The Savior
September 2nd, Mid Day
There was a reason the Korcari Wilds were talked about in legends. There was a reason everyone feared it, invented monsters and evil creatures to occupy its darkest depths, and avoided the place like the Alienage Plague. It was creepy. Not the tame kind of creepy one uses to describe graveyards and abandoned buildings. No, this was the shiver up your spine, always looking over your shoulder, kind of creepy; the kind where you never feel alone and it seems like hostile eyes are always trained on you; where the slightest noise makes a person jump in fear. Fallon could barely sleep when they finally got a few minutes to do so, so frightened that some sort of bog creature would come out of nowhere and drag her down into the muddy depths. She had never been one to frighten easily, but somehow death by mythological bog creatures seemed like an appropriate fear in the Wilds.
The trio had succeeded in avoiding almost all confrontation, having just a handful of small battles during the two days they had been travelling. It took longer, as they were avoiding the main roads, but Morrigan said Lothering was getting closer. It was hard to be cheerful about this news when mud fills your boots.
They were taking a much deserved break after several hours of trekking through the wilderness. The group had stumbled upon a relatively dry clearing, sheltered by some swamp trees. It was comparatively safe, with Morrigan's enchantments still in place, and they were finally able to make a fire and warm up. Fallon cooked up some of their rations while the dark haired witch set out to gather a few herbs and mushrooms to add to the pot. It was a meager lunch but decent enough. As she stirred, Fallon kept an eye on Alistair, who hadn't spoken to either of them except for the occasional grunt or nod. He sat away from the fire, sharpening his sword. Fallon remembered how it felt when her mother was killed, like her whole world was ending. It took a long time for her not to wake up at night, expecting to see the woman's signature red tresses on the pillow next to her father. She had cried for months, and for several years there was a certain sadness when she picked up a sword. But at least she could comfort herself in the fact that she had spent twelve good years with the woman, poor Alistair had only gotten six months.
As they sat beneath the stars, boiling a vat of chicken and vegetable soup over the campfire, Fallon thought about her family and how much she missed them. Absentmindedly, she twirled Nelaros' ring on her finger. A deep voice broke her concentration.
"Did your mother give you that ring?" Duncan asked, stirring the soup.
"No," Fallon said as she ceased twirling it. She paused for a moment before speaking again. "How well did you know my mother?"
"Not very well. I met her shortly before she was to be married. She showed promise to be a great Grey Warden and I wanted to recruit her into our order but Valendrian talked me out of it. Since there was no Blight at the time I was in no hurry to recruit and let her go. I am thankful I did." He added with a nod in her direction. Recently Fallon had raised their conversation level to strained, with the occasional awkward silence. It was slightly better than her completely ignoring him.
"It's nice to know that she was actually a good fighter, the way my father talked about it, made it seem that she was just pretending to know what she was doing"
"Your father sought only to protect you. I understand this."
"Tell me about your son, Duncan." He paused a moment, as if he was considering Fallon's statement.
"He is not my own blood."
"That doesn't always matter. My cousins were like siblings to me. Tell me about him."
"He is an idealist and he loves dairy goods."
"Dairy goods? What, like cheese?"
"Especially that." They sat together in silence for several minutes as Duncan ladled out the soup into their individual cups. Fallon took a large gulp of the warm golden liquid and felt the warmth slowly travel down her throat and into her stomach. Her tongue was burned but the pleasant feeling in her belly made up for this. Duncan continued. "Alistair was going to be a templar, but it was obvious when I met him that he was meant for much greater things. He was absolutely elated to join the Grey Wardens."
"Well why wouldn't you be?" Fallon said sarcastically as she took another sip of her soup. Oh how tired she was of only having soup for dinner.
"You only protest because you fear the unknown. You will make a fine Grey Warden. I believe you will enjoy being one."
"Will I enjoy this Alistair fellow that you speak so highly of? Will I even get to meet him?"
"Yes, to both of your questions. His humor seems….complimentary to yours. The two of you will likely get along quite well."
"How do you know this?"
"Because there are very few things in this world that make me smile, but both you and Alistair have made me laugh. If I like you, then you will certainly like him."
Fallon shook the memory out of her head. Even then, she hadn't been able to remember ever making the Warden Commander laugh but didn't want to argue against him. He was right though, she did enjoy Alistair. His sense of humor did compliment her own. The tin cup held in her hand warmed upon contact with the soup and very soon it became difficult to hold. The heat spread angrily through the metal and into her fingers and palms, nipping at her skin. She quickened her pace as she walked toward the former Templar, placing the cup on the log beside him.
"Duncan told me much about you during our travels, like your obsession with cheese, for example." Fallon noticed a small hint of a smile on his lips as he put his sword away and brought his shield out to polish. "I know it doesn't help, because he is gone, but I thought you should know he did love you. No matter how things are now, no one can take that away from you." Alistair still didn't say anything, so Fallon continued. "I lost some people too, quite recently in fact. One was my friend, Kora. She was a bright and beautiful. Completely bubbly, almost to an annoying degree, and she was probably the most devout Andrastian I've ever met. The other was my… friend, Nelaros. He was brave and kind. I owe him my life. I was silent for most of the trip to Ostagar because of their deaths so I understand if you need some time. Just know that, when you do want to talk, you can always talk to me." She left him alone with his dinner, sucking slightly on her burned fingertips as she turned back to Morrigan.
"Still silent I see." The woman said with one of her dark eyebrows raised, fire casting unflattering shadows on her face.
"Yes, how do you like dinner?" Fallon said as she sat down on the mushy ground beside the fire. Morrigan scoffed.
"This is absolutely unacceptable. You, my dear, are in charge presently. You have been a warden for a week, have no formal training, and are only nineteen years old. He is the Senior Grey Warden and is giving his power to you in favor of moping about. How does he expect to the lead the troops to battle if he cannot even lead us through the Wilds?" She gestured wildly with her hands and Fallon was half scared she'd cast a spell on accident.
"He's upset. It will pass and he'll be able to take charge again." She scooted closer to the fire, hoping to warm her hands.
"My troubled heart can finally rest." She said with an edge of sarcasm.
"How old are you, Morrigan?" Fallon said, trying to changed the subject.
"My mother did not care about age, only prowess." She waved her hand again, disregarding the question.
"Well I care about age. So humor me, how old are you?"
"Such useless trifles," She said with a sigh. "but alright. If I must. I am most likely….around twenty three. However time feels much different in the Wilds, take from that what you will."
"Ah, well no wonder you find Alistair and myself so maddening." Fallon thought about how irritated she'd be taking orders from her junior.
"I am not quite as maddened by you as I initially assumed. " Morrigan said before turning away from the elf to look through her pack. Fallon simply smiled as she warmed her hands on the fire. As far as the apostate witch was concerned, that was probably the best compliment one could be given.
September 3rd, Late Afternoon
Fallon speared the hurlock's eye on the end of her sword, slashing it across the face with the second one. It spurted blood all over its companions as it died. Some of the others that had ambushed them were dodging behind trees, hiding beneath the muddy waters, and it was impossible to find them during the chaos. A genlock messenger started to make a run for it, heading back to the horde, but Fallon threw her sword, pinning it dead to a tree.
They had barely any warning before this group of twenty or so darkspawn attacked. Neither Fallon nor Alistair had felt anything since the blocking spell Morrigan used worked both ways. However, they stumbled across a dog. He acknowledged them momentarily, before turning and growling angrily at the trees. Morrigan thought he was mad with Blight sickness, Alistair said nothing, but Fallon could tell something was going on. She ordered them to be ready and when the first wave hit, they were.
It had been several minutes of nonstop fighting and Fallon had lost track of the others. Morrigan kept changing shapes every few seconds and it was impossible to tell if there really was a brown bear helping them or if that was just the apostate. When Fallon looked around this time she saw a crow, flying around and confusing the darkspawn while the dog leapt at their throats. Seeing that neither of them needed her help she turned instead to the blonde Templar, who was currently combating three darkspawn at once. She jumped in to lessen the load. A darkspawn with a heavy mace set its sights on her, attempting to bash in her head and crush her knees. It was hard to block the attacks with her swords, they shook with protest at each blow. Fallon found herself fearing her swords would shatter and sought to end this before they did. She swept both blades across the creatures torso, puncturing through the thin armor and into his flesh. It tumbled over.
Before she had a chance to gather her thoughts, a Darkspawn had sprung up from the waters behind her, dripping in mud. It was frightening to see that terrible grimace beneath a suit of distorting sludge. It caught her off guard, knocking one of her swords from her hand, and stabbed at her with its own dagger. The splint mail she had on took the brunt of the attack, but it still left her abdomen bruised. Fallon took her remaining sword and stabbed into its throat, getting blood and gunk all over her hands, but the sword had slipped and only nicked the main artery. The darkspawn fought back with its last remaining bit of life, it lunged forward, taking the red haired elf down into the muddy water with it.
Wrestling with a darkspawn underwater when you don't know the first thing about swimming wasn't Fallon's idea of battle. The things black blood spilled from its wound as it slowly died, darkening the already murky water. Its grasp loosened on the elf, and the thing finally died. But Fallon had no idea how to swim, so panic began to set in. The pond she had fallen in was just deep enough that she couldn't reach the bottom, and now the blood made it impossible to even see where the surface was. Before her lungs forced her to breath in the dirty water, Fallon felt a force pulling her upward by her armor collar. The sludge dissipated and was replaced with sunlight as she was dragged onto the land once more, breathing deeply and ignoring the stench that flooded her nostrils. Turning to see who her savior was, Fallon was not met with human eyes, but the dark brown eyes of the mabari.
"Thank you." She said breathlessly at the animal, who barked happily in reply, then sat down beside her. Fallon laid back for a moment, allowing her heart rate to slow.
"Fallon, are you alright?" Alistair asked her, looking haggard and tired. She was happy he was speaking again.
"Yes. I'm fine. The dog just saved me." She propped herself up on an elbow and used the other hand to tickle the dog under the chin.
"You are lucky the mangy mongrel found us when he did." Morrigan said after transforming back into human form. Both Fallon and Alistair averted their gaze as the witch wandered around the battle field, recollecting her clothing and putting it onto her naked body.
"I don't think luck has anything to do with it. I think this is the dog I met back at Ostagar."
"You think he's been following us then?" Alistair asked, patting the dog on the head.
"I don't know, but he's here now, and I am certainly glad for it." Fallon started to get to her feet, Alistair helped her up, Morrigan threw her a rag from one of their packs.
"Wipe yourself off, Warden, you look like a darkspawn." Morrigan cackled at the comparison, and returned to searching for the remainder of her clothes and then looking over the dead creatures for anything of use. Fallon cleaned the gunk from her face, trying to wipe as much of it out of her hair as she could but relegating her locks to a muddled and dull auburn for now.
"So if you are gonna follow us around does that mean I get to name you?" The elf got down on one knee in front of the enormous dog, looking it straight in the eyes. She had wanted a dog her whole life but Soris was allergic. She had a million names in her head and tried to sort through them quickly to settle on the perfect one for their new companion when she noticed a metal tag on his collar. Dawson, was all it said. "I guess you already have a name. Alright Dawson, if you'd like to join our group you'll be expected to pull your weight. I won't have you slacking in your duties just because you are a dog." He barked at her indignantly. "Good. Come along then."
They gathered their things quietly. Morrigan, now fully clothed, well as clothed as she had been before, handed the two wardens back their packs and took up her position at the front once more. Alistair regressed once more into silence but Fallon decided not to let it bother her. He'd come around eventually.
"Come along Wardens. We are getting close to Lothering."
