Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.
Rating: T+
Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Awakening, Origins DL content, and Dragon Age II as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.
Chapter Thirty-Six: The Joining
"You know, if you pooch that lower lip out any further, one of those little flying creatures is going to come along and perch on it, and it'll probably take a shit in your mouth," Laz said.
The man - boy, really - she spoke to turned down the corners of his already turned-down mouth. "I really just don't want to be here. Not like this," he said.
"What's your story, Duster?" she asked. "You here to be a Warden, too?"
He shrugged. "Guess so. They didn't give me much choice."
"I didn't have much of a choice, either, but I'm glad to be out of Dust Town. At least as long as I know my Sis is safe. Name's Laz Brosca - what's yours?"
"Loghain Tabris."
"Loghain, eh? You know, I just met another guy named Loghain this morning. Big fucker."
"Probably the guy I was named after. General Loghain. My mother fought under his command, once. Guess he impressed her as a decent shem."
"That's the guy. Where you from?"
"Denerim. The alienage."
"What's an alienage?"
He looked at her then. "You mean you don't know? It's a walled-off city quarter where elves like me live. It's a slum."
"Oh! So you really are a Duster! Me, too. Hey, that's great. I was startin' to think the Wardens was chock-full of stuck up born-rich prigs like that Aeducan jerk."
One corner of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. "No, I guess we're not all that way, are we?"
"So you don't want to be a Warden, huh?" Laz said. "Why are you here, then? Di'you get busted, like me?"
"Busted? You mean, like, arrested? No, nothing like that. I was actually celebrating my cousin's wedding when the recruiter showed up. He asked our Hahren for me by name, said the Warden Commander told him to recruit me. I was supposed to get married myself in just a few weeks, so I said I didn't want to go, and he said he didn't have time to argue, and conscripted me right then and there. My mother was furious - I thought she'd try and kill him - but Father stopped her. They'd tried to recruit her, too, years back, and that's how they knew my name. I guess they're hoping I'm as good a fighter as my mother."
"He didn't even see you fight, first?" Laz asked in surprise.
Tabris shook his head. "I've trained, my mother taught me. But I don't know how to fight darkspawn. I was supposed to get married," he said again, and his lips trembled as his eyes teared up.
"Hey, salroka, don't cry. We'll look after each other, you and me. A pair of Dusters against the world. We'll teach 'em to show us a little respect, eh?"
He smiled shyly at that. "I wouldn't mind a chance to prove myself. I just feel like I got yanked out of my life like a fish out of the river. Even if life wasn't all that great, it was all I knew. I'll cop to being a little bit scared."
"I get ya, salroka. If I was going to get hitched, I'd probably be a little sad to leave that life behind, too. What's yer girl's name?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. Mother and Father paid a lot of money to her parents, is all I know. She was from the alienage in Amaranthine. I wonder what they'll do, now? I don't have any brothers she can marry."
"They…bought you a woman?" Laz asked.
"They arranged a marriage. The money goes to pay for the trip from her home, and her wedding dress usually. Your people don't have arranged marriages?"
"Maybe, in the upper classes. Dusters like me don't typically get hitched."
"You don't marry? Then who do you spend your lives with?"
"Whoever'll give us a tumble, usually. Then when we're old and used up, like my Ma, we drink ourselves to death. If we can steal the liquor, that is."
"Suddenly the alienage doesn't seem so bad," Tabris said. "Your home sounds like a living hell."
"It is," Laz said, without sounding remotely concerned about it. "But I'm shut of it, and good riddance. My big Sis Rica is living in the Royal Palace. She got the looks in the family, landed herself a real and truly prince who's taking care of her now." She nodded toward Kaldon Aeducan, sitting crosslegged on the other side of the bonfire. "That one's brother. He got kicked out of Orzammar for murdering his other brother, the heir to the throne. Makes my offense of crashing the Proving and killing a crime lord seem fairly mild, don't it? The only reason I did it was to show off for the Grey Wardens. I was hoping they'd recruit me."
"You killed a man to show off?"
"What? Oh, no - I killed Beraht because it was him or me. But the reason it was him or me is because I put on a drunk warrior's armor and took his place in the Proving. I would have won, too, if the Duster didn't wake up and come reeling into the arena."
"It sounds like you've led quite the life, Laz."
"Eh, it's had its moments. Here's hoping it's got a few more to go."
She looked around at the other recruits, gathering now before the campfire. She'd met several of them already - Daveth, and that slightly stone-brained knight Ser Jory. Then there was a cute redhead from Highever, Ser Gilmore. The others, she hadn't been introduced to yet. The Joining was dangerous; evidently not everyone was keen to make friends until they learned whether their new friends were going to live or die.
Under the watchful eye of a Senior Warden, a big, blocky fellow by name of Gregor, the recruits went out into the Wilds to gather darkspawn blood and ancient treaties. They ran across Teyrn Loghain along the way. The big bruiser was chasing down a genlock and it looked like he had it running scared. Laz liked that. If more nobles were like him, she might like them better.
Gregor turned to watch the man run past. "That would make one fine Warden," he said in his thick Anders accent. With a sigh of regret, he led his charges on.
The darkspawn blood was obtained without too much difficulty. The treaties were another matter. They weren't there. What was there was a funny-looking broad who dressed like an under-sponsored noble hunter. Gregor was quite short with her, and she was acerbic in return, but eventually she told them that the treaties were in the hands of her mother, and led the way. The treaties were obtained, but not before the crazy old bat had her say.
"One small twist of chance throws all the world off-kilter," she said. "I thought I knew what was coming. Now I'm as curious to see how this plays out as anyone else. What a strange turn of events this is! I haven't been this entertained in centuries."
She handed over the crumbling parchments. "My plans have been dashed, but for that I bear no ill will. I will make other plans. For now, I am content simply to watch as events unfold. There may be a chance for me, yet, if I play my cards right."
"Yeah, whatever. Whackaloon," Laz said, in an undertone.
Daveth was the first to die.
Laz actually felt bad about it. He was a horn-dog, but he had guts. He turned out to be braver than good Ser Jory, who tried to cut and run, but instead the old guy, Duncan, cut him. With the three surviving recruits seemingly dead on the ground, Daveth dead in fact, and Jory bleeding out his last pint at Duncan's feet, the other recruits looked spooked. Laz felt a little spooked herself.
She looked at Tabris. The poor kid was white as a ghost. She thought he might try to do a runner of his own if someone didn't do something quick, so she did the only thing she knew to do. She squeezed his arm, stepped forward, grasped the chalice, and drank. She knew nothing after that.
"Not a bad Joining," Gregor grunted. "Three dead out of eleven."
"It could have been less," Duncan said, with a sorrowful head shake.
"Yes. Well, sometimes they spook. Nothing can be done about it."
The first three to take the Joining survived: Kaldon Aeducan, Rory Gilmore, and a Dalish elf named Aladric Mahariel. Daveth and Jory, of course, were dead, along with one of the Circle mages that had been recruited, a woman named Hester Gablin. The other two Circle mages, Seanna Surana and Bannistre Amell - who had volunteered that very day in camp, shortly after he awoke from Alistair's Smite - survived. Loghain Tabris survived, as did a rather taciturn woman from West Hill named Adina. Laz, too, survived. Once they awoke, the new Wardens were sent to bed. Duncan had business to attend to, however, at the war council.
Teyrn Loghain was speaking as Duncan walked up. "Maric, I know you're prepared to forgive and forget what happened today, but I can't. You need to find another strategy, and you need to do it without me. I can't trust myself."
"You never trust yourself, which is exactly why you're the man with the plan," Maric insisted. "The strategy is perfectly sound."
"But I'm not."
Maric sighed. "How do you feel?" he asked. "You knew, right from the start, that something was wrong with you, and now you know what it was. So how do you feel? Do you feel sick?"
"I feel fine, actually. Nevertheless…"
"You are fine. The blood mage is dead. End of story."
"It bloody well is not the end of the story," Loghain said. "I almost killed you, Maric."
"But you didn't. And you won't. Moving on."
It was Loghain's turn to sigh. "At least put someone else in to lead the charge. I don't belong at the head of an army right now."
"That's exactly where you do belong, because you scared the living piss out of our men today, and they need to see you there, at the vanguard, to know that everything's all right. If you're not there they'd cut and run the first time a hurlock gibbered at them. They'd do that even if you hadn't scared them first. Your presence bolsters, Loghain. You give our soldiers courage."
"What a load of - "
"I could lead the charge," Cailan broke in. Loghain snorted.
"Cailan, your place is on the flank, with me," Maric said. "You can't stand with the vanguard."
"But I'm ready for this. How am I going to prove myself if you won't let me?"
"What you'll prove is how quickly a man can die, Cailan," Loghain said. "You've never even been in a real battle before, and you think you're going to lead a charge, just like that?"
"You haven't let me fight!"
"Children, please," Maric said. He sighed. "Cailan, if you want your chance at glory I'll not stand in your way, but you're not leading the charge. I'll put you next to Loghain, and if he tells you to do something, you do it. On the battlefield, he outranks you. Loghain, I'm trusting you to keep my son alive."
"Wonderful. Just what I needed."
"Let's go over the plan again, now everyone's assembled, so we're sure we know our roles," Maric said, and leaned over the map pinned to the table. "You, Loghain, will stand here, with the main army - "
"And me," Cailan said.
" - and Cailan, and draw the darkspawn into the gorge. I will be here, at the head of Maric's Shield, ready to lead a flanking assault at the pre-designated signal. Did we decide who will light the fire?"
The senior-most Circle mage, a bald-headed fellow named Uldred, spoke up then. "Your Majesty, if I may, the double-signal system you propose could easily go awry. One mage with one spell could signal the flanking army directly from the main corps, and if something were to happen to that mage another could immediately take his place. Fail-proof."
"After what happened here today, do you think we'd trust any more lives to your spells, Mage?" the Revered Mother of the Denerim Chantry said, angry.
"I beg your pardon, Madam, but are you here to talk strategy or are you here to pray?" Loghain said. "I believe you're here to pray, so why don't you stand over there in the corner and do that?"
He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest and jerked his head in Uldred's direction. "I like his idea, Maric. Ishal has a hinky feel to it, to me, and after what happened today I don't trust the preparations I made there."
"It would certainly be quicker," Maric said. "All right. Let's do that. Senior Enchanter, you can arrange that with your fellows?"
Uldred bowed. He had a simpering but altogether superior sort of smile that Loghain didn't like, but the man did just see a high-ranking Priest get taken down a peg. That would make any mage ecstatically happy.
"So then the Wardens will stand here, with the vanguard soldiers?" Duncan asked.
"Interspersed with the main army," Maric said. "Given your most vital function is to slay the Archdemon, and we haven't seen an Archdemon yet, there seems to me no sense in risking all of you on the front lines. I think that knowing there's a possibility that a Grey Warden is standing next to him will boost the morale of the rank-and-file."
Cailan seemed both shocked and dismayed. "They won't be on the front lines? But they're the Grey Wardens."
"If you want to stand amongst the rank and file with the Grey Wardens, Cailan, you're more than welcome to do so," Loghain said.
A/N: About the Warden's rather high-handed tactics in conscripting Loghain Tabris: If I'd known in advance I was going to do a mass-recruit I'd have shoved in a scene where Duncan recruits him himself before leaving for Orzammar, or offhandedly mentions the boy to an underling who misconstrues the meaning and, not having much use for elven feelings, comes busting in to grab his conscript. I did not, however, know I was going to put him in this. So just assume that the latter eventuality is what happened, off-stage. And no, I don't believe darkspawn feel fear of humans, but if they did, I know who they ought to be afraid of. ;)