Fuzzy, everything so blurry. Was she moving? It didn't feel like she was lifting her feet off the ground. The feeling was like she was floating, or more likely she was being dragged. Her robes felt heavy for some reason, maybe she was wearing the winter robes that the Circle gave the mages to keep out the cold that seeped through the tower during the winters. This all felt like a dream, maybe she would wake up in her chair after falling asleep in one of Wynne's lectures. No, no she wasn't in the Circle anymore, she dedicated her life to something greater than sitting in a tower her whole life.

Wearily her eyes began to flutter open and she turned her head to see Arnor's face plastered with mud and the rains. Memories flooded back to her of the battle, the beacon, and the betrayal. Loghain had left them all to die! Left the Wardens to darkspawn! They were given up for dead! But they were still alive, at least that was something.

"Did, we get away?" Luthien choked out, her throat felt incredibly dry for some reason.

Arnor jerked his head towards her half in surprise and half in relief as he saw the mage regain lucidity.

"Yeah we did, thanks to you."

"I... Don't think I should try and do that again, at least without a bit more practice."

"You're probably right..." The other Warden agreed while his boots submerged into the swampy mud before surfacing back up again for more steps.

"Anybody else make it out?" Luthien asked as they found a small clearing with some fallen logs.

Arnor met her eyes for split second before turning his head forward again and acting like he didn't hear the question, but the silence gave her enough of an answer. "You better enough to walk yet?"

Walking, putting one foot in front of each other. Could the loss of mana and lyrium take that from a Mage? No, she'd make it through. All the times she used to tease Finn about his hatred of the outdoors came to mind now. He hated the mud, and the, rain and the walking, and the hiking and the exercising. He would've never made it as a Warden.

"Just... Give me a minute, or better yet, a potion." Luthien requested as her face continued to pale under the moonlight and lack of lyrium.

"I've got a flask or two in my pack, but I only have a pinch of dust..."

"That should be enough to make one potion, c'mon you need to sit down anyway." She noticed as she could see blood starting to seep through his gloves.

It seemed even Arnor could listen to reason, and the human Warden let up and sat down upon the rough bark of the fallen pine. While Luthien as took the chance to rest her feet for the walking Arnor rummaged through his backpack and pulled out an empty flask and a small pouch filling with a fine red sand. Lyrium dust. Luthien watched as Arnor took his waterskin from his belt and took a few sips before handing her the well worn item.

"I don't have any concentrators or distillers so you'll have to make do with water."

Screwing the top off the container, she mixed in the lyrium dust with a few sips worth of water to create the potion of choice for mages and templars. It felt like life itself was flowing back into her again. The lyrium charged the mana flowing around her and the world seemed more defined, colors seemed sharper, and her senses in general seemed to get back to their usual levels.

"You better?" The human asked as color started to come back the elf's face and he applied a minor red poultice to his scratched up arm.

"I guess." She mumbled while she leaned on her heartwood staff for support. "No, actually not better! How could you think better?! Back there, there was someone who knew something about me be before all this crap! Back there, everybody I called brother and sister died! I don't think there's room for that in the definition of 'better'!"

"No, I guess there isn't." The ranger replied under his breath.

Luthien took a harder look at the other Warden's face, and in the glimmer of the moonlight she thought she saw a stream of tears flowing down from his eyes. While it could've been just the rains. Luthien remembered Arnor's spawn sense reached a level he could sense the other Wardens distinctly. While she thought she could remember feeling something when the others fell around them, to Arnor it must've been light flickering out in the darkness. So much hope was lost there in that valley. So many chances. The chance to regain a sense of who she was before the Circle, and the chance to end the Blight and stop untold amounts of carnage.

"We a task set before us. We're still Wardens. Ostagar didn't void the oaths we swore. We promised Duncan we'd end the Blight somehow, I'm not giving that up." Arnor proclaimed while lightning streaked across the sky and rain continued to torrent down on them

"Oh and how are we going to do that?" Luthien replied kicking a rock in frustration, "You studied the past Blights with the rest of us, no archdemon has been slain without an army behind the us to help fight the horde. Our army just got wiped out, how do you plan to get a new one?"

"I don't know..."

"Our order just got wiped out! What are we supposed to do about that?"

"I don't know..."

How do you plan on getting close enough to a huge dragon?"

"I don't know! I'll think of something..." The ranger

"Well, you do that. Most of my plans to try and do anything go up in smoke."

They'll take away everything that makes me a person Luthien! You have to help me!

"What do you mean, 'All up in smoke?'"

This is your chance! Run!

"None of your business!" She yelled extremely defensively that did nothing to dissuade the

Hard to breath, had to keep running, templars after her.

"I think it might be."

Join us Brothers and Sisters

"Leave me alone, I don't wanna talk!" She finally shouted while simply looked at her both puzzled and intrigued by the outburst.

I um... I'm not a blood mage!

"Whenever somebody says that there's a good chance they actually need to talk to somebody."

"Oh and I suppose you want to hear the thrilling tale of me running for my life? I wonder if you want to hear how I blew the best chance I had in the Circle? And then you'd want to hear about how the only group of people to believe I could do something good with my powers is gone! But not before you listen to me talk about me having my hopes crushed, about having something you thought lost snatched away from you!"

"I'll listen," Arnor said with unlooked for earnesty "I'll listen to the only other Warden I've got left."

"I-I- Just- Leave me be!" Luthien glowered, this time Arnor chose not to continue speaking, and instead left to search for materials to make something of a fire.

Now along, Luthien rolled up her sleeve for as she examined the scars from the infiltration of the Tower basement. Things always seemed to go to the void as soon as they started to get good. She's made a mage and might even be given permission to leave the tower once in a blue moon, and then the templars try to make one of her best friends Tranquil. She'd passed their Harrowing, it wasn't her place to be involved with apprentices and escape attempts. That test was supposed to prove she could be trusted to stand against demons, but now faced with the possibility of losing a friend she threw all she'd worked for away.

Then she ran. Ran as fast as she could. It was all kind of a blur to her. They'd been cornered the templars were closing in. Then she couldn't remember much of anything, all that she knew was Lily and Jowan were gone, and the templars were still on the floor unconscious. So she fled as fast as she could through the doors and out onto the dock where there was still a spare boat to be had. Then it was two weeks of danger before the Wardens found her. The rest they say is history. She had a chance to find out more about her own history, but her own nervousness ruined that chance. The elf had to try to console herself knowing that after they won the battle she would get answers, she would ask the right questions and get some insight to her past.

All that was shattered to the wind by one man's inaction, and now Estel Tabris and two dozen other good Wardens were corpses in a forgotten ruin. Did the Maker like to see her suffer? They say the Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens, but was that really true? Did her being an elf and a mage discount the sacrifice she had to make to fight the darkspawn? Then again it felt like the Maker and Andraste had just said 'To the void with this place'. To top off her grievances she could hear the maddening scribbling of a pencil and she turned her head to see Arnor back and hunched over writing trying to protect his book from the rains, using sporadic lightning bolts for illumination after failing to find kindling.

"Would you knock that off?"

To her surprise Arnor only turned his head in silence as a sign of recognition but there were no jokes, no barbs, no protesting as he slammed shut the red leather covers together and bound them back together with string. While often the elf wished he would stop contesting whenever she asked him to stop being annoying, did it have to be now after everything else familiar was ripped away? As he fumbled around with his backpack to stuff the journal back in Luthien noticed his eyes seemed to become wide as dinner plates as he excitedly reached for a group of yellowing papers bearing the Grey Warden seal.

"I think I've got something now." He grinned as he unfurled the papers and the rains began to soften.

In ink and blood signatures of groups long gone and a few still remaining were etched on the yellow paper. The Circle of Magi, the wandering Dalish tribes, and the Dwarves of Orzammar had all given their word that in the time of a Blight their full might would be brought to bear on the darkspawn. But a few others, less prominent but no less useful were also in included. The Ash Warriors, the Blackstone Irregulars, and even several Avvar tribes were among the allies the Wardens were afforded. Maybe there was still a chance to end this Blight before everything the two of them knew was destroyed. Maybe the sacrifices of Duncan and the others wouldn't be in vain. Maybe there was still hope.

"Dwarves, mages, mercenaries, that does sound like an army..." Arnor arruged while Luthien read of the hundreds of names, "We could try and..."

A rustling sound then went through the woods, bringing the duo to their feet and on alert. The two didn't feel the tingling sensation that came with the presence of darkspawn, but that didn't mean they were safe. The presence must be human, most likely a scout from the Teyrn's army. If he was willing to abandon them and the king who knew what they would do to the survivors? There was only only one arrow left in Arnor's quiver, and Luthien only enough energy for a single arcane bolt. But if they were going down, they weren't going down without a fight.

As soon as Arnor brought his bowstring to draw length and the sound of the string straining filled the trees a desperate plea reached the two from the direction of the newcomer.

"Don't shoot! Maker's mercy don't shoot!"

The voice was young, and slightly familiar at to least Arnor, who lowered his bow and gestured for Luthien to put down her staff. But not before she threw him a questioning glance and she had to settle for a shrug from the only other active Warden. More rustling as a lone figure rapidly approached the firelight. He was adorned in the heavy armor of a Ferelan man-at-arms which was tore and cut up in several places, with his face obscured by a heavy helm now coated with blood and grime. The lad threw off his head guard revealing the raven hair and boyish face of one Carver Hawke, who gazed upon the Wardens before him with both a sense of wonder and disbelief.

"You?!" Arnor puzzle as the warrior flopped down on the fallen log and took in several shallow breaths.

"You're that... Warden. Aren't..." The boy managed to wheeze before he collapsed unconscious.

Before the lad could hit the ground with a thud, Arnor caught him and laid him down on the ground. Neither of them were really healers or medics, but they knew enough. Luthien reached out with creation energy while Arnor scavenged around for some elfroot to help patch over the boy's wounds. Luthien could feel the energy draining from her body, the minor lyrium potion's mana gave her a quick fix, but for a task of this difficulty most wouldn't have tried with how much mana she had to work with. But Ms. Surana wasn't most mages, she was a Grey Warden, and if she could help it another person would not suffer because she failed.

With the energy of the Fade Luthien got to work closing the major bleeding cuts that could potentially be life threatening. She didn't have the energy to close them all completely, but the soldier would live. Her hands began to tremble and mind started to strain as she got down truly to the end of her magical rope. There was one last gash on his side that needed to be treated, and Luthien fought through a skull pounding headache to accelerate the healing process. Just in time Arnor came back bearing the elfroot as the mage stepped back and allowed the ranger to use more conventional methods.

The tricky part was removing the boy's armor, done incorrectly there was the possibility of tearing the wound further. If the amount of red fluid that saturated the armor was any indication, he couldn't afford too much more blood loss. It was difficult, but Arnor had done this before. Many was a mission where one of the older Wardens needed help, and he was the only one who could provide it. Wiping away most of the blood with a spare cloth, Arnor resorted to tearing off some of his cloak to form a turicut to stop the bleeding after he applied the hastily brewed poultice.

Their new guest apparently had been running like hell since the battle, although considering he was behind them he must've heard the last horn call or been at the very front of the lines. If that was the case two things were to be considered: That that was the the reason for his extensive injuries, and that he was skilled enough to fight through a good number of the darkspawn to flee to this spot. In another life or another time he might have made a good Warden.

Her mind seemed to be fighting her, and exhaustion caught up to her once again as her legs began to wobble and refuse to support her body weight.

"You take first watch." She managed to say before laying down on the ground and finding out that Arnor's journal didn't make such a bad pillow.


Great. Now he was the one who would have to keep watch all night. How could he blame her though? He'd asked her to bring down an entire bridge with her magic, and to do something like that took time, focus, and energy. Something that was a luxury on the battlefield. Should he have asked her to do that? Could they have found a way out of there without resorting to massive destruction of property and exhaustion? Maybe they could've, maybe they couldn't have, his father told once him that dwelling too much on the what ifs would drive you crazy. And unless you were a berserker, crazy wasn't good in a fight, and it definitely wasn't good if you were in a position of leadership.

Leadership, what an interesting word. A word Alistair feared, and a word some like Duncan seemed to naturally fit into. If he was the senior Warden in... No! He had to stop that train of thought. He had to be alert. Anything from darkspawn, to hostile soldiers could be lurking around here. It was funny, Arnor never thought he might have to fear Ferelden soldiers, especially that of Teyrn Loghain. He would never try and betray his homeland! And yet now the Order he dedicated his life to was abandoned along with the king.

Nothing made sense anymore, Duncan dead, King Cailin dead, Alistair most likely dead, but him... He was alive, and so was the mage who was currently smashing the red book with her head. Turning his gaze to the ground he also remembered they had another guest along with them. Oh sod... the lad would turn into an icicle without something over him. It would be no good to patch up Carver's wounds and then have him freeze to death. Digging once again into his pack, Arnot found the spare cloak which served as a sort of padding for the bottom of the rough skin bag. Taking a small moment to throw the green cloth over the sleeping warrior, Arnor then tried to wrap himself with his now torn and bloodied cloak.

The chilly night's breeze was both a blessing and a curse as it made him extremely uncomfortable, but helped to keep him from falling asleep. There was supposed to be a balance to this thing. After a few hours another Warden would be woken to take his place and he could lie down for a few precious hours. Somebody had to make sure the wounded warrior and the exhausted mage were safe though. Even if it was a bedraggled and bloodied corn shucker from Redcliffe. At least the trees meant most of the rain was kept out. The rain was also a thing he remembered as a curse and blessing. Rain could either flood the fields, or nourish them. It's all about the amount, and the ground it's falling on.

What would he would give for a fire right about now... But alas all the tinder and kindling in the area was soaked and he couldn't leave these two out here. A howl reached his ears and Arnor got a little on edge at the prospect of a wolf attack. If they were attacked now by anyone though he wasn't sure how well they'd do. It would be nice to have Fluffy here, nothing got past him. Bella would be taking good care of him though, and the wolf would be taking care of her.

Would he ever see Redcliffe or his family again? Any of his friends from the life he'd been forced to leave behind? As a Warden he'd never gotten the chance to go back to the scarlet hills of his home. Now with the Blight raging and the last Teyrn turning his back on the king who knew what would happen if he tried to go back? Arl Eamon could very well have been apart of this mess at Ostagar. After all he hadn't sent any of his troops to aid the battle, what could be going on that he didn't know about?

With those troubling thoughts in mind the Warden found his will failing him and his eyes closing. The cold didn't seem so harsh and the wind didn't seem so biting as he let his mind wander and drift into the fade, or a much darker place.


A red haze seemed to fill his vision as he stumbled blind through an unfamiliar landscape. What was all this? Fog? Mist? Gawain's Sunday Special? Where was he? He was walking on the side of a cliff of some sort. With the ravine going down far below anything he had ever seen before.

Rock and dirt seemed to surround him and he looked down to see more darkspawn than the army at Ostagar. A multitude of every type and shape. With hurlocks, shrieks, and genlocks filled into lines of battle. Others were among them, some so strange and horrible they must've been from a time long before. For there are old and foul things in the deep places of the world beyond archdemons and darkspawn. Creatures unleashed by the Tevinters or the dwarves now in the thrall of the corrupted Old Gods.

Turning his head back up he saw the beast. Saw the cause of all the death and destruction that was sure to rain on his homeland. The Archdemon, if the writings were true this was Urthemiel. Who the magisters worshiped as the dragon of beauty. Larger than the mightiest ships of Orlais, the creature let out a terrifying roar that seemed to split his ears with a mixture of shrill cry and a triumphant roar. A call to arms, a call for war, a call for a Blight.

He tried in vain to cover his ears with his hands, but his body didn't seem to listen. All he could do was stand and watch and harken to the voice that started to worm its way into his ear. He tried to scream, to move, to run away, but the voice and the dragon kept him locked in place. The voice kept getting closer and closer and louder and louder until he couldn't hear himself think.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the others, Duncan, Gawain, Hurin, and the rest of the Wardens trapped at Ostagar, they all were corpses or ghouls, it was hard to tell which. He even thought he could see Danson, Turgon, and Estel, people he had just seen through their Joining now shambling and corrupted. They all stood beckoning. Their horrid beautiful voices ringing in his ears.

"Death! War! Pillage! Kill!

Arnor! Arnor!"


"Arnor!" Luthien shouted again as she shook him several times in an attempt to wake the sleeping Warden who was thrashing violently about.

"Agh!" He cried out as he stumbled back only to hit his head on a tree trunk behind him. Was it over? Was he awake?

"Hey?" The elf asked as she waved her hands in front of the fallen Warden. "You good?"

It only took one look from him to tell the whole story. Every Warden knew what it was, every Warden had different ways of coping. Arnor style was to melt away on his own for awhile, and this was no different. He slowly got up to his feet and stepped into the foliage. Even with the shining metal plates he somehow managed to disappear from sight leaving a minimal trail behind him.

"Stupid question..." The elf mumbled under her breath as she got back to the makeshift campsite where Carver sat wincing from his wounds and wrapped in the green cloak.

"What's going on? Is he alright?"

"Nothing that need concern you." She muttered too quickly to not arouse suspicion.

"He looked pretty spooked, bad dream?"

"You could say that..."

"It looked pretty bad though, if I didn't know better it looked like he'd seen the Archdemon itself." Carver said as he remembered waking up to the sound of the human Warden moved about violently in his sleep.

"He just may have." Luthien finished and a thick cloud of silence descended over the small clearing. The only noise audible was the wind and the occasional bird. Including a swallow which seemed to stare at them for awhile before flying off.

"So... You two both Wardens then?" The boy asked, trying to awkwardly start a conversation and break the monotonous quiet.

"Did the griffons tip you off?" Luthien questioned as she tore a piece of dried meat in an attempt to make it more palatable.

"Well... Maybe a little..."

"Who are you anyway? Farmboy seemed to recognize you, and you him but I've never seen ya before."

"Me? My name is Carver Dane Hawke, I am, actually I was a soldier in Bann Kenobi's army during that mess over there. Saw that old man shot full of arrows, he was a good Bann, Blighted darkspawn..."

"So how do you know Arnor?"

"We talked a bit before the battle, told me to swallow or vomit my fears. Kind of sounded like my older brother, he never takes anything seriously." Carver spat with the slightest bit of resentment in the word brother.

"Not a lot of love between siblings I take it?" Luthien asked curious how someone could hold such bitterness for their kin.

"It's my own business thank you very much." The warrior growled and Luthien gave up that line of thought.

The two sat waiting for a while before Arnor came back still with a glassy look on his eyes. The ranger sat down and all became silent for a few minutes before hunger won out over somberness.

"Got any more of that salted pork?" He asked Luthien who tossed him the last article of food.

"All we've got left, unless you got more it that magical pack of yours. Don't see how it can hold so much, and how you carry it around all day..."

"You'd be surprised by the things you can fit into the average light backpack if you plan the storage right."

"We're gonna have to fill up that and maybe a pack animal or two if the plan's to trek around Ferelden and gather up an army."

"You two should probably stop by at Lothering." Carver suggested, as he slipped on his worn armor and strapped on his sword, "Wherever you plan going it's on the way there, and there's bound to be merchants passing through this time of year."

"Do you know the way?" Luthien asked while Arnor plucked a few more elfroot leaves in case they'd need them later.

"It should be just a few days north of here if we take the main roads. Ostagar and Lothering were both built on the Imperial Highway if what I heard's right."

Arnor then turned around from his foraging and shook his head at the suggestion, causing Carver slight irritation and confusion before he elaborated.

"We can't take the main roads. Chances are the Teyrn's army is going to be using it, and I don't want to chance that happening. I say we continue through the woods. We can still make due north, but the chances of us wandering into unfriendly eyes isn't as bad."

"Are you sure we need to do that? Even if he didn't show up, I doubt the Teyrn would order his men to kill Fereldens."

"He ordered his men to leave us for dead. That's almost as bad." Luthien mentioned dryly as the soldier went over the facts in his mind for a few moments.

"Alright, you've made your point Warden. We'll brave the wilderness."

"Good then," Arnor replied as slung his bag and bow over his back, "Let's get going, unless you want to stay a rest a bit?"

"I can cut across country easily enough." Luthien retorted as she got to her feet and dusted herself off, "Just lead the way shem."

Before the group broke the poor excuse for a camp, Luthien looked back behind him for a second. A great plume of smoke rose to the south from the direction of Ostagar. The darkspawn will have destroyed and corrupted everything they didn't burn. To anyone left in that valley, death would be a mercy compared to what the darkspawn would do to them. As she turned back around to follow Arnor and Carver, she wondered whether Loghain knew what he was abandoning good men and women to. Did he know of the horrors of being made a ghoul? Of the torture and the rape and and the pain that would come to those he left behind?

How could anyone who hadn't seen it, know what was in store for the victims of power-plays and betrayals? There was still hope though. The treaties could bring the armies, and their were still two Wardens to unite them. They would end the Blight, or die trying.


Pandemonium, absolute pandemonium. Rumors spread faster than plague or wildfire, and the rumors of Ostagar had already embedded themselves in the minds of the people. It didn't help that refuges from the southern bannorns and arlings had already shown up in droves, and Maker only knew how many more would be forced from their homes. This made the feeling in the Landsmeet chamber confused and tense. Each Bann had a different story to tell, and many cast wandering eyes on the many empty spaces left by those Arls and Banns that had been lost at Ostagar. In particular, the missing Teyrn Cousland brought great distress to several of the nobles who looked to him as a voice of reason and experience.

Queen Anora presided over the chamber in a gilded yet practical throne with her face and eyes betraying no emotion whatsoever. No sadness, no depression, no feelings it seemed as her face was as impassive as ever, it was no different from the look when she negotiated treaties or ordered the execution of criminals of the alienage who escaped justice by running to the Grey Wardens. While the whispers about the rift between Cailin and Anora were commonplace, many people expected at least some emotion from the now widowed woman. Others though, remembered that she was Loghain's daughter, and that was something that carried more weight than even her father knew.

Of all the figures assembled though one in particular stood out. While the rest of the nobles had come dressed in their finest silks and linens he had brought his best suit of mail bearing the white horse of Rainesfere. Bann Teagan, the Bannhammer of Ferelden, eyed the returning Teyrn Loghain and his entourage warily. While it was no surprise that Ser Cauthrien was beside him, but the big nosed Arl of Amaranthine was a new ally for the man who, if the rumors were true, was about to declare himself regent. A silence fell over the room as the aged Teyrn stood from the chair he'd requisitioned for himself, and started to speak.

"My lords and ladies of Ferelden, it is with a heavy heart I bring you the news of the death of our King, Cailan Theirin, as well as many other esteemed figures in the Landsmeet. In the battle with the darkspawn massed in the south the king and many nobles, including the Arl of Denerim were betrayed by the Grey Wardens and led to their deaths."

"While I tried to convince our liege of this folly he failed to heed my advice and was slain on the field. I alone saw the Warden's trap, and withdrew my forces to prevent their slaughter. Without a clear heir to the throne, and after conferring with the queen, the decision has been made to appoint me regent of the land until the next Landsmeet can be called."

A pregnant pause fell over the crowd as each noble took in the information, and the it was all shattered in a cacophony of noise that filled room. Questions, accusations, demands, they all flew around the chamber as each tried to make his voice heard.

"How can you be sure of the king's death?"

"The Grey Wardens would never betray the county!"

"Who will defend us?"

"Death to the Wardens!"

"This is our punishment for raising a commoner to royalty!"

"This is folly if I've ever heard it!"

"You abandoned the king!"

And on and on and on the words were shot. Swords, ceremonial or otherwise were nearly drawn until a loud voice echoed through the wooden halls.

"Enough!" Loghain declared, as he slammed his mailed fist on the balcony rail, gaining the attention and silence of the room. "The darkspawn are still a threat to the nation, while this may not be a Blight we will need to rebuild from what was lost at Ostagar. What is needed now is decisive action, and sensible conduct. The loss of an army and a king does not equal the loss of a nation, while free Fereldens still live, I will not let this land fall!"

It seemed as though the general was daring anyone to stand up to him. As of anyone would dare challenge the Hero of River Dane, the savior of Ferelden, the commander of her armies.

Except one Bann, from a backwater section of the country known throughout the land for speaking his mind, stepping forward to the view of the entire chamber.

"Your lordship, if I may," He began, ever polite despite his bluntness, "You ask of us men, and undoubtedly there will be money needed to supply them. But what of the army that was lost under your watch at Ostagar? The King's Army, the Royal Army, your withdrawal of Gwaren's forces was most... Fortuitous. The king is dead, and now before the mourning begins you have already declared yourself regent. Is there more to Ostagar than what we've been told?"

"You would dare slander my lord!" Ser Cauthrien exclaimed, drawing her sword and leaping from the balcony to the main chamber, "If you would challenge the Teyrn's honor you would challenge me to a duel!"

In response, Tegan drew his own blade and readied his shield in a direct challenge to the knight. "You wish for a duel captain? Then I will give it to you!" The assembled men and women gasped and eased back as the two circled around each other with their weapons free. Like mabari hounds or wolves in the wild each waited for the other to strike and reveal their hand. The temper of the Gwaren native pushed through the warrior' straining and she made the first strike.

The Summer Sword leaped forward with great speed as it's wielder moved to put all her force behind the strike. The blow staggered the Bann who was forced back only to face another swipe from the greatsword. This time Teagan bore the brunt of the attack with his shield causing pain to jolt through his arm like lightning. This didn't stop him from using his shield in a series of quick strikes that threatened to overwhelm the Captain of Maric's Shield.

The Bann and used the extra speed afforded by a longsword to his advantage as he struck diagonally and pushed his offensive. Ser Cauthrien caught the blade in a block and the two strained as Teagan had the advantage of a downward motion while Cauthrien had the strength and support of both her arms behind her. With a cry she pushed the longsword off and made another sweeping strike that Teagan tried to block with his blade. Instead the sword was flung from his hand and he was left with only his shield for a weapon.

For many warriors the next downward stroke from a knight would have been the end, but instead of submitting or cowering behind his kite shield, Teagan bashed with the veridium metal and the forced the knight captain back across the room. The fight might have gone even further had two guards from the hall not strung their bows loudly and called the belligerents to cease their fighting.

"Stand down! Both of you!" The guard captain commanded, a grizzled greying man who'd seen the worst of the Bannorn, "I will not have more fighting in these chambers!"

The two warriors, already panting and feeling the strain of combat sheathed their blades and backed away from each other. Loghain took this moment of silence to make another announcement to the nobility and affirm his authority.

"Do not try to misconstrue my actions Bann, everything I have done has been to keep Fereldens free, I have not worked to undermine the sovereignty of the throne, and neither will any of you!"

"The Bannorn will not bow to you simply because you demand it, or because you tried to coerce us with violence!"

"Understand this, understand all of you, I will brook no threat to this nation, from you or anyone! No force shall destroy our home if we stand together! You must stand beside me, or you will see our country torn asunder!" With that final statement Loghain cleared out the room with his guards and Arl Howe. He was followed by Ser Cauthrien who exited to meet him outside.

As soon as the self proclaimed regent left the chamber was again filled with the sound of bickering nobles that seemed to divide itself right down the middle. It was a battle of wills and interests as a good majority of the banns spoke in disgust for the man who pushed himself into this position of power. Who could unite them though? The Couslands had been wiped out for ostensibly working with Orlais and Howe now well known as Loghain's ally.

The next best candidate was Arl Eamon, but word hadn't come from Redcliffe in weeks. Many started to wonder what had happened to the king's uncle, and a few whispered this had something to do with the treachery of his Orleaisan wife. Without him though, the Bannorn turned to the man who dared speak out and stand against the most powerful man in Ferelden. Bann Teagan found himself surrounded by disgruntled and angry nobles, free men, proud men, men who would not bow to any man they themselves did not appoint. Loghain would have to learn the hard way what Maric once had to discover, freeing a nation is not the same as keeping it together.

All the while the blonde dowager queen silently scanned each noble, and with cold green eyes turned the gears in her head. She was Fereleden's queen, while her father had the power now, she would always do what was best for Ferelden, Maker help whoever got in her way.


They'd been traveling through the woods for days now. She wasn't sure if Arnor exactly knew where he was going, but the boy they'd met said it was just north of Ostagar. How hard would it be even for Arnor to get them going north? Exactly how long had she been sleeping in the mud and having to forage for food in this Maker forsaken wasteland? She'd seen the moon what was it, four times, maybe three? How many days ago was group who she expected to work with for years to come killed in one fell swoop?

She'd always knew she'd escape the Circle one day. Maybe she'd be able to live a normal life, or maybe go to Tevinter where she could actually use her magic without getting thrown into a tower. But when the Wardens offered a place, a purpose, a chance, she jumped at it and jumped headlong. Warden mages were free, Warden mages had no Templars looking over their shoulders. She knew that there was an inherent danger to being a mage, what a terror and menace demons and abominations were, but that shouldn't justify the loss of freedom. Should it?

At least at Circle trained her, gave her a bed and books. It could've been worse, she heard stories about the lives of mages in other Circles. They made Kinloch Hold seem like a palace by comparison. There was a price to freedom, there was a price for everything, like the price of becoming a Warden. The tainted blood that would one day call her to a violent early death in the Deep Roads. Right now though, the price of being a Warden seemed to be living like a refugee and hoping the town you're searching for is in the direction you're heading.

The weather seemed to be getting slightly warmer. Although that may have just been an indication of the seasons changing and not them getting any further north. If only they had a map and maybe a compass! Then they'd be able to get somewhere. She was reminded of Krebs, a Warden from the Anderfels who always seemed to have his head in maps and books. He was always the one to map out and chart the various missions Duncan planned. But here she was, relying on Arnor for long term travel and navigation. He'd been leading them north north-west for awhile now. His brilliant plan was to get as far away from the roads as possible for a few days, heading north east, then slowly work their way back to the direction of Lothering.

"We're out!" Arnor suddenly declared as the trees began to part and Luthien thought she could see the light breaking through the woods.

"I still don't know why we couldn't take the bloody road! All this wildlife's getting everywhere!" Carver grumbled as he stumbled his way through the bush and roots,

"A little time in the outdoors isn't so bad Hawke! Just gotta get used to it!"

"Well, I don't think getting used to mud and twigs and rain is high on my list of priorities right now. And anyway, why do keep calling me by my last name? People usually only ever do that to my brother." Carver asked as his foot found leafless dirt once more.

"Sounds better, and anyway, just cause someone's the older child doesn't mean they're the only with the family name." Arnor sounded like might have been was joking with the first part, but Luthien heard something a bit more personal, something a bit more somber in the second. Arnor spoke scarcely about his family, and when he did it was usually positive, but she always wondered why he never spoke much about them. Especially as Alistair and her prodded him as to what it was like to live a normal life.

The trio exited the trees and found they'd ended up right near a stretch of the Imperial Highway. In the distance the village could be seen. Windmills, hovels, and of course a Chantry, all the things common to a Ferelden town. The group marched on towards now on the hard cobblestone of the old Tevinter roads, but to get into Lothering one had to pass through an old toll station that blocked both entrance and passage through the trading settlement. Like any respectable ruin some very unrespectable were using it to perform unsanctioned tasks. A group of seven bandits had set up shop and decided to waylay the party.

"Well well well, lookie what we've got ere boys! Some more travelers who need to pay our toll to get by!" The leader announced as the others flashed their weapons in a show of intimidation.

"Bandits," Carver cursed and swore as the pain from his wounds flared up again, "These bastards are preying on the people fleeing the Blight! I say we cut them down!"

"Wait for a moment." Arnor commanded as the Hawke grumbled a bit but fell in line.

"You don't look like you're from around these parts so I'll cut you some slack, and I'm not gonna charge you for telling you the rules, everybody has to pay a toll to get anywhere past us! Fourty silvers, or else!"

"How generous..." Luthien muttered under her breath as she tried to work out the best way to deal with these thugs.

"Umm boss... Look at the birdies on their clothes." One of the larger members of the group pointed out "That a big yellow birdie right? Does that mean them's Grey Wardens?"

"Intresting... Grey Wardens killed the king and tried to betray the nation. There's a big bounty on their heads!"

"What are you talking about?" Arnor asked, as his hand fell towards his blade and he quickly gestured to Luthien to prepare for trouble.

"Nothing you're gonna need to know!" The lead said whilst drawing his crude sword and shield, "The poster didn't say you needed to be alive!"

The outlaw leader swung his sword downward just as Arnor unsheathled his blade to block it. Throwing off the offending weapon Arnor slammed the pommel of his sword into the leader's head and tried maneuvered his way so that the man's body was between him and the lanky bandits wielding crossbows. Another lad with a mace struck out but Arnor sidestepped just in time for the thug to be hit with a bolt of spirit energy from Luthien that tore through his armor and insides.

The three crossbowmen in the rear of the enemy lines tried to fire their bolts in excitement only to find their dilapidated weapons were more fit for intimidation than actual combat. These cowardly scavengers hadn't come across anyone willing to resist them, but Grey Wardens are not easily deterred. Two of them managed to get his weapon functioning and with trembling hands they shot out managing to hit Arnor in the shoulder and right arm. The ranger lurched in pain as the force of the close range shots dug the projectiles deep past his armor, but for the archers' troubles Luthien gathered up the energy for a cone of cold that froze them all solid.

Carver found himself in the unamiable position of fighting the last and largest of the bandits who held a claymore of considerable size. The soldier's heavier greatsword meant he was often reacting to the other's attacks and the man he was fighting clearly had the edge in raw strength. But strength was be developed and training counts for more that people think. The larger man swung wide and wasted energy. His attacks had power but no focus. Carver kept his blocks firm and waited for the opening that would come. Then he saw it, a horizontal strike too wide and too open for Carver not to exploit. Now was his chance, Carver brought his sword down hard and cleaved through the man's iron chainmail taking the man down and out.

The last outlaw holding out a chipped axe thought he'd found an easy target with Arnor bleeding and struggling to hold his sword in his off hand. The man chuckled as Luthien moved to step between the two, evidently he'd not paid attention when the small elf had frozen three of his compatriots.

"Back off," she growled while the bandit moved to strike.

'This will be easy pickings' he thought as he brought the axe down only to find it stopped by twisted heartroot and a intense pain in his gut soon followed, as the mage slammed the back end of staff first into the outlaws gut and then unto his head knocking him out cold.

With the belligerents contained Luthien took the chance to turn back around and see Arnor grinning despite wincing in pain and a clear trail of blood seeping down from his arm. He managed to get up back to his feet, but stumbled again

"Guess I need to work on dodging don't I?" Arnor chuckled while Luthien scowled looking at his wounds.

"We're gonna need to patch you up fast if you're ever gonna keep shooting that bow of yours." The mage remarked as she let her comrade support himself lightly on her shoulder for the time being before turning to talk to Carver. "Kid, you know anywhere we might be able to hide out and get Arnor fixed up with attracting attention?"

"My family's house is probably the best and only place you're gonna be able to go, the inns are almost always busy and if there's refugees coming here, I don't you're gonna find any rooms open."

"I'd rather sleep in a stable than be a burden to your family." Arnor informed while he bit down on some of the extra elfroot he'd picked earlier.

"I'm not going to be that ungrateful bastard that lets people who helped save his life sleep on the ground, and I'm sure my folks isn't that way either."

"Come on farmboy, we've probably got no better options. Let's just go!" Luthien demanded as the frown on her faced deepened with the growing amount of blood Arnor was losing.

"Fine, fine," The ranger relented, "Which way to your homestead then?"

"It's just over here, let's go and maybe have a hot meal for once..."

"I hear that!" The two Wardens said almost simultaneously as the adventure of a lifetime prepared to get itself in full swing.