Rainne watches Alistair as he meticulously cleans and polishes Duncan's longsword and dagger that had been recovered from the corpse of a reanimated ogre earlier in the day. "Alis-"

"He's going to want them cleaned and ready when we find him," the young human declares, his focus never deviating from the blade held in his hands, "He always says that you can tell what kind of person someone is by the condition of their weapons, and I don't want anyone to look down on him for having cruddy weapons."

"Do you want to talk about this? About Duncan?" she gently inquires in hopes of distracting her friend from his manic actions, "He was my friend Alistair, and I miss him too."

His eyes blacken with fury as they rise to meet her own gaze, "Don't you dare say was. Duncan. Is. Alive. Until someone shows me his stone cold body, there is nothing, I mean absolutely positively not one single thing, that is going to convince me that he is anything but alive and really pissed off about what happened."

"Fine, I won't. But you cannot simply sit there and polish swords while the horde-and Loghain-lay waste to your home," Rainne argues while shifting closer to the distraught man, "Alive or no, what would Duncan think of us if we did not do everything in our power to stop what is happening?"

"When we find him, he'll know what to do," Alistair desperately insists, the first tears spilling forth from his eyes.

She blows out a heavy breath, briefly wonders how sane the man is currently, then pushes onward, "Yes he will. But do the people of Ferelden have that kind of time to waste while we search for him? I highly doubt it, with all we've encountered so far. We must do something now. Enough time has been wasted already, looking for treaties that are obviously not here. Every day we throw away in hopeless pursuits ends with more people dying. People we could save, can still save, if we remember what our duty is."

"I...you're right," he concedes, his shoulders slumping out of their defensive posture as she stares him down, "If we don't keep an eye on things and do our sworn duty, he will be more than a little upset with us when we do finally find him. But who and what are we going to deal with first? I don't know how to decide."

"The darkspawn is our highest priority, obviously. Loghain is a sodding thunderhumper, but he is still just one man amongst many and his madness can be contained. The Blight could-and will-end the world if it isn't stopped," she declares, making an effort to push aside his grief inspired delusions, "Whether we have the treaties or not, we are going to have to amass another army in order to face the darkspawn before Ferelden, and everything else, is destroyed. I'm a dwarf, trust me when I say that Loghain is no more than an annoying pest in comparison to the horde and the damage it will do if left unchecked."

Alistair is silent for a long minute before giving her a solemn nod of his head, "Okay then. Urm, Lothering, Redcliffe, and South Reach are the closest towns from here that maintain their own militia. Out of them, Lothering is nearest distance wise, so we should probably stop there first."

"Isn't Lothering that foul little place we passed through on our way to Ostagar?" Neria interjects now that Alistair isn't appearing to be so unhinged, "The one that had the merchant who smelled like cabbage and refused to serve me, Rory, and Ash because we're elves?"

The human nods again, his breath hitching when the duster relieves him of the enchanted longsword of his mentor, "Sounds like the place, but we have few alternatives at this point. We need supplies and information desperately if we hope to pull any of this off. It's also likely that any others who survived the battle would have traveled through Lothering for the same reasons we are. If we are very lucky, some of them might have lingered."

"Alrighty then. Neria, you snag Rory and inform everyone that we will be setting out for Lothering after breakfast," Rainne sheathes Duncan's longsword and hands it back to Alistair, "Use it. It's better than you've been making due with, and someone less skilled can have your old one. I'm going to take his dagger, if you don't mind, since one of mine broke on the necromancer's skull."

"I think he'd want you to use it, knowing that you needed a dependable weapon. We will have to find something else by the time he gets back though," the Templar states, and she has to-again-resist the urge to grab her comrade by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, "I'm off to bed then, now that we have something that resembles a plan. Good night all."

The sentiments are repeated as he shuffles his way through the group and to his own makeshift tent.

When things finally settle and most of her comrades are snoring, Rainne sifts through her pack to retrieve several sheets of vellum, then grabs a charred stick from the fire. Once the wood has sufficiently cooled, she dampens it with some melted snow, then begins compiling a list of supplies they'll immediately need for the massive quest they are preparing to undertake.

Halfway through the second shift of watch, Rory wanders over to where the dwarf is still diligently toiling by the fire. "What in the Maker's name are you still doing awake?"

"I'm making copies of the list of stuff that we're going to need to procure in Lothering. If we split up, we'll get everything done faster, and that will put more ears out there for news as well," she leans against her pack and rubs the grime from her tired eyes, "Also, we will garner less attention if we entered town in little groupings of two or three instead of marching in as a group, looking like a mercenary gang or something. We don't have a lot of coin, so I know that at least I plan on filching whatever I can, and if we are noticed when we come in, the authorities will pay more attention to us than we can afford."

"Where did you learn all of this stuff?" the elf asks as he seats himself beside her, "I mean with all you've said about where you came from, it doesn't fit with this, this take charge side of you..."

"An old client of my mother's taught me and Rica a lot of useful stuff," she readily admits to her fellow Warden, "After he and our mother were finished with their whatever, he would get my sister and I and tutor us. Reading, writing, mathematics, you name it. Stohn never tried anything perverted or hurt us, so it was easy to deal with him...and I loved to learn new things, especially if it helped me with my goals of taking my sister to the surface."

"You keep saying was. What happened?"

"He was killed when the matriarch of his clan went after the wife of another clan patriarch. His family lost, mainly because they attacked on the day one of the rival house members was made a paragon and declared the new head of the clan. The clan house was packed full and his family was unprepared for so many defenders to be present when they barged in."

"So he died in the battle then?" he prods when her words falter.

"No. He was only a member of the clan through marriage-his brother had married into them-and wasn't allowed to fight. Not like he wanted to anyways. But when it came to the reorganization of the house, he was screwed no matter what. Because all he and his wife had ever produced were daughters-which went into her family's clan instead of his-he was fat to be trimmed when his family was absorbed. It didn't help that his wife was half human-he married her after I was born. Sometimes I think the only reason he kept visiting my mother after he got married was because of me and Rica," Rainne pauses to get her thoughts under control, then lets out a ragged breath, "Anyways, the rest of the family disappeared into the Deep Roads a few years back, only days after they announced the list of those they had executed during the take-over. The new head of the house, a completely batty blacksmith, took them down over some mad quest of hers in search of only Ancestors know what."

Rory's curtain of black hair drapes over his face when he dips his head in respect, "I'm sorry Rainne. No one deserves to die in a bout of senseless violence like that. That's how I lost my mother and my wife. Sounds like the Alienage and Dust Town aren't as different as I'd been imagining."

"We've all lost someone or something dear to us salroka, but we cannot allow that pain to drown us, lest we become the monsters ourselves...At least that's what my sister tells me."

"What do you believe?"

"I believe that a healthy dose of retribution is justified every now and again. You can always claim that it was for some greater good later on. Never let it consume you though, because you could lose yourself and what you stand for if you do," the dwarf pats his arm reassuringly, "And I sincerely hope that it doesn't happen to you because you are one of the truly intelligent people I've met up here and I'd hate to lose you."

"You're not too bad yourself duster," the elven warrior chuckles as he stands and adjusts his cloak, "Try to get some semblance of rest. The trek to Lothering will be most taxing in this weather."

After he resumes his rounds and she begins to settle in for a nap, Rainne can't help but wonder who benefited more from their conversation.

~C~H~A~P~T~E~R~B~R~E~A~K~

"And there it sits-Lothering-pretty as a painting," Alistair grimaces at the sheer volume of refugees who have invaded the dingy town, "I think it smells worse than it did before..."

"This...this is not how I remember this place," Neria comments, her crimson eyes wary as they push their way through the writhing throng.

"Well, you've seen the damage the darkspawn have already wrought," Rainne counters from behind Mickey, who is quietly clearing a path for his vertically challenged mistress, "See the desperation on their faces? Smell it in the air? This is why we must enlist aid in fighting the scourge."

"So they can go back to killing each other you mean," Rory snarks from just ahead, ignoring the confused looks the maul strapped to his back is receiving, "I'm beginning to think that this was a bad idea."

"Alistair? Hey Alistair! Over here!" a voice to their far right bugles and they collectively swing around to discover Gabriel, Ash, and the snippy swamp witch Morrigan walking towards them. "By Andraste's right arse cheek, I thought we were the only survivors!"

"Do you have the treaties, by any chance?" Rainne queries after greetings and introductions have been exchanged, "We went back to Ostagar in hopes of finding them, but we found nothing but blood and death..."

"We have them. Ash, would you do the honors?" the Cousland gestures to the archer, "He hasn't let go of that damn bag since we recovered the treaties in the first place."

In front of her, Ash wordlessly raises the haversack she recalls him showing them once before, then lifts the flap to reveal the ancient scrolls.

"We've spoken to a fair number of knights and that Templar in charge here. I would have had words with the Bann, but he is long gone," Gabriel confesses after the precious treaties have been safely tucked away, "Apparently Loghain has declared himself regent of the throne and named the Grey Wardens king-killers and agents of Orlais. There's even been a bounty placed on our heads. A whole sovereign for each Grey Warden captured or killed and brought in."

"He's expending a lot of energy, trying to discredit us," Rory muses, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, "Methinks he protests too much to be an innocent bystander in all of this."

"Anything worth doing is worth overdoing," Rainne sarcastically chuckles as they leave the clogged masses behind and enter what turns out to be the other groups encampment, "Still, our primary focus should be gathering this army and putting a stop to the Blight. The arshole-who-would-be-king can wait until we have a better idea of what he's planning."

A scarlet haired woman clad in Chantry robes bounds over to the cluster of Greycloaks, "More Grey Wardens? How wonderful! I knew the Maker would not lead me astray!"

"Okay, this is where I back away slowly, then run for my life," Rainne throws her hands up in self defense when the woman tries to hug her, unfazed when the human woman's gleeful expression melts into perplexed hurt, "Gabriel, didn't you ever learn not to make friends with people crazier than you?"

"I'm not crazy!" the Chantry sister simpers, folding her hands in supplication, "The Maker sent me a vision and bid me to do His will!"

"Do shut up, you blithering fool," Morrigan snipes, earning herself one irate scowl and several smiles of gratitude.

"I'm not a fool, you rude, foul woman!" the redhead screeches, her attention fully diverted from the Wardens.

Ignoring the ensuing verbal death match between the two women, Gabriel swipes his auburn bangs out of his emerald eyes, "You missed Bettina by less than a day. She and a qunari she conscripted left this morning to seek aid from outside of Ferelden."

"Have you seen or received word from Duncan?" Alistair suddenly interrupts, prompted into speaking at the mention of the Chaisnd mage.

"We burned his body ourselves," Ash reveals, the seldom spoke archer's eyes filling with the pained truth of his words, "We honored him like the leader and true hero he was."

With a disconcerting crash, the Templar crumples to the muddy ground. Rainne hurries to his side, "Alistair, it's going to be-"

"No, no, no, no, NO!" he wails, his fingers digging into the clay mud as he keens, "He can't be dead, I will not accept that!"

"Whether you accept it or not, we still have a job to do," she bluntly retaliates when he shakes her hand off with a hard jerk of his shoulder, "The darkspawn are not going to stop invading because our Commander is dead, so we can't either Ali. Use the fear, the grief, the pain, and aim it at those responsible. Make them pay for taking Duncan away."

"It's not fair," he warbles at the ground, "Duncan was the only person who ever cared about what I wanted, the first person to truly see me for me...and now he's gone...I don't know what to do..."

"Wonderful, now we have a blubbering Templar and a flea bitten mongrel. This is going to be such much fun," the swamp witch rolls her ocher eyes in annoyance, "I'll be packing my things, call me when it's time to quit this place."

After barely restraining herself from knocking the apostate on her face as she walks away, Rainne tugs her friend to his feet, "Come on Ali, we still have some things to purchase before we leave."

He doesn't utter a word as the duster doles out coin for goods, then drags him after her to pursue a few Chantry jobs to supplement their anemic funds. Thankfully there are enough odd jobs to go around that everyone-mainly Alistair- is kept busy into the next afternoon.