Arcane Warrior

Chapter 7: The Deep Breath Before the Plunge, Part 1

Alim didn't know where he was. He was floating in midair in the middle of what looked to be a gorge within an ancient hall hewn from stone, such a feat he knew to be the sole capability of dwarven craftsmen. But the majesty and grandeur of the many elaborate geometric carvings and towering statues of what looked to be mighty dwarven kings and paragons from ages past subsumed by a cloak of filth and grime, the nobility of the designs all but consumed by corruption.

Any further looking around he might have done was interrupted by a terrible pain that pierced his head like so many tiny daggers scraping against his skull until he felt as if he were about to burst.

He hunched over and grabbed his head with a silent scream of pain.

Thousands, if not tens of thousands of voices erupted into being, screaming, growling and snarling until the voices blended together in a cacophonous humming that pierced his mind and soul. A teeming host of shadowy figures suddenly appeared all around him, surrounding him and passing through him but not physically touching him.

Alim opened his eyes and would have backed away if he were standing on solid ground, for all he was able to see in any direction were the shadows. More and more shadows appeared as the seconds turned into minutes, and now all he could see in any direction was a solid wall of shadow.

But then a new presence appeared at the edge of his senses, the new one forcing its way past the others, completely drowning them out with its overwhelming presence. The presence caused a feeling of utter wrongness that chilled his spine and curdled his blood. Slowly and fearfully, Alim turned around slowly to see that the wall was now moving, and not simply the same churning and writhing it had been doing, but as if something large was forcing its way into the center of his vision and pushing the others to the side. As the shadows moved away, what was revealed to him was beyond explanation.

It was massive and would have been magnificent if not for the rot and decay that reduced it from whatever it had once been to the mere facsimile he now beheld. But even reduced from its former splendor, it was still a towering and overwhelming presence, he couldn't even tell what it was save that it was pitch black in color. Huge red membranous wings spread from its sides and blocked out his entire range of vision, casting shadow onto the rest of its body until all he could see was a pair of milky white eyes larger than two adult elves pressed back-to-back or stacked atop each other.

He shivered, as in those eyes he could see a great and terrible intelligence, as well as a seething hatred fit to set the world aflame.

It was impossible to tell from the lack of markings of any kind in its dead eyes, but he would swear upon his life that it was staring directly at him.

It opened its mouth and a deep, ominous chanting in a language he couldn't even begin to recognize filled the ancient city. He had to cover his ears to block out the sound, but still the chanting bore right into his brain until he felt that he might burst at the seams. Every inch of his body felt like it might vibrate apart.

He couldn't open his eyes through the haze of agony he felt, but he was sure if he did, he would see his flesh sloughing off of his bones like meat being boiled from the bone in a stew pot.

And then the elf awoke, gasping desperately for air and covered in a sheen of sweat, the relieved faces of Duncan and Alistair looking down upon him, the latter laughing quietly, an expression on his face at his survival. "It is finished" the older Warden said quietly, offering his hand.

Alim started in surprise as he extended his own hand to take the proffered one, having removed his gloves before the Joining. He hadn't been sure of the purpose, only that he was told the lack of touch would somehow take away from the experience of the ritual. Gazing at his hands now in the pale moonlight, he could see that his skin was no longer waxy or translucent. His flesh had regained its normal smooth texture, and his normal pallor, only slightly darker for the past few days' exposure to the sun, was back in full.

"Welcome Alim Surana, to the Gray Wardens" he said in an official, prideful voice.

"Thank you, Commander Duncan", he replied with a smile, mentally swearing that he would do whatever it took to live up to the pride in Duncan's eyes, he took the proffered skin of water to help sooth his dry throat.

Breathing deep to calm himself, he glanced at the bodies of Daveth and Jory, now lying on twin cots with a death shroud thrown over them, their weapons on the table nearby.

Jory's huge greatsword proudly bearing the crest of Highever on the hilt, Daveth's fine silverite daggers which had been gifted to him by Duncan upon his recruitment, two belt knives and the winged shortbow Daveth had shown such a familiarity and mastery with despite such a short time possessing the Warden relic.

He closed his eyes to offer them a moment of silence. Daveth had gone honorably, a far cry from his less than humble origins on the streets of Denerim. 'Maker, Creators or whoever is listening, please give Daveth an honored place at your side. He did not deserve the death he so cruelly received.' Jory on the other hand had died with dishonor staining his name and memory.

Deserter and oathbreaker, no one should be forced to die with such shame, but Jory had labelled himself with both when he drew a blade upon his commanding officer in his cowardice.

"Two more deaths," Alistair grumbled, warily eying their bodies. "In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was… horrible." He said solemnly with his head bowed in prayer, "I'm glad at least one of you made it through."

He gave a reassuring nod to his comrade, 'dammit Jory! Your life wasn't just your own! Why did you have to let your fears get ahead of your other priorities like your wife or child!'

He cradled his face in his hands, 'Oh what shall I tell Helena? Should I tell her the truth of her husband, or a pleasant lie? Should I tell her that he died as a hero, fighting against the Blight to the last?'

"How do you feel?" asked Duncan.

"I... the Joining is over, I feel fine." Indeed, he did, he was no longer burdened by the immense pain of the taint, and he even felt better than he ever had.

His senses, it seemed, had only increased from what they were before. His hearing had sharpened and increased slightly in range, elven hearing was already a great deal better than a humans as their ears were capable of swiveling in place like a cats to listen to sounds coming from different directions, and his eyesight was better than it had ever been, he picked up details they used to pass over as unimportant, such as the cracks and chips in the stone, the artful swirls on Duncan's armor and how lifelike the griffon standard on Alistair's breastplate seemed.

His body felt lighter but stronger, and his magic more potent. He didn't feel any more powerful than before, there wasn't a greater quantity of mana flowing through his veins, but what was there felt like it was of a greater quality than before, like any spell he cast would have more bite to it than he was used to.

That would likely take training to get under control.

It seemed to make some sense to him, he had heard stories about how one must be among the strongest to be considered for the gray warden ranks, and actually becoming a gray warden only made them stronger still. Many people thought it was because of some secret training regimen of the wardens, and perhaps there was, but now he suspected that the Joining ritual itself had something to do with it.

Alistair stepped in to change the subject. "Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after my Joining."

"Dreams... yes." Alim stared off into the distance, thinking back to the terrifying specter from his nightmare.

"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do" explained Duncan. "That and many other things can be explained in the months to come. For now, take pride in that you have become a Grey Warden in full."

"Before I forget, there is one last part to your Joining," Alistair interjected.

Alim said nothing in response, simply turning his attention to Alistair.

"We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant, something to remind us of those who didn't make it this far." He said solemnly, and Alim accepted the pendant without a word. He had been looking forward to working with Daveth, crass as he was, and even Jory, provided that he improved his attitude.

The deaths were still fresh in his heart, and the grief still too near.

"I know this is a great shock to you Alim, but there is little time to waste," said Duncan. "Take the opportunity to regain your bearings and get used to the changes you are now experiencing, there will be more to come, I assure you.

"In one hours' time, head over to the ruined hall directly beside the gorge. King Cailan will be briefing his officers on the next battle against the horde and has requested your attendance."

"The King?" asked the elf. "Did he happen to say why?"

"Regrettably not," Duncan replied with a shrug. "All I can ask is that you attend promptly. Until that time Alistair, I'd like you to assist Alim in getting ready, then wait for us by my tent once the meeting begins."

"Of course, Duncan," said Alistair, looking relieved he wouldn't have to rub shoulders with the King and nobility. After Duncan left, the former templar turned to Alim with a relieved smile. "Well, since we have a little time, how about some supper? You haven't eaten since breakfast, right?"

The elf's stomach growled. "I probably should, but after seeing all that, I'm not sure how much of an appetite I'll have."

A strange smile crossed Alistair's face. "Trust me, you'll eat well."

Having eaten a few bowls of hearty stew with Alistair, he now approached the ruined hall where the war meeting was to take place. Daveth's shortbow was now strapped to his back along with the quiver. His staff had been taken by the quartermaster to be improved, a peace offering he said.

"You've arrived on time. Excellent," said Duncan, meeting Alim at the entrance of Ostagar's ruined great hall.

"Yes Duncan," replied Alim. "Have I missed anything?"

Duncan's frown told him everything he needed to know about the tone of the war meeting thus far. "Nothing good."

Like the rest of the fortress, the ruined hall had been re-purposed to serve the needs of the army, and while the roof had long since caved in, the walls were still solid, and it was large enough to hold all of the senior officers. A mosaic of banners representing the army's various contingents had been put up, and Alim was still amazed at how many bannorns and arlings and knightly orders were present.

The place was packed with about thirty men and women, mostly nobles and officers of all stripes and social standings, though the elf had to stop himself from grinning ear to ear when he caught a glimpse of Hawke standing next to a graying captain, the dark-haired woman giving him a small smile and a nod in recognition.

Off to one side he caught sight of a tall man in heavy silver armor who must have been Fergus Cousland, for the sword Aedan had given to them was strapped to his belt and the shield to his back. Alistair must have spoken with him sometime before he awoke. The man stood tall and proud, though his face was notably haunted.

In the furthest corner, he saw Senior Enchantor Ivo fretting idly under the stern watch of a quartet of templars. From behind another unit of templars, a woman in the vestments of a Revered Mother of the Chantry examined the assembled gathering, her cold blue eyes finding them all wanting. Her gaze focused on Alim for a moment but then withdrew in disgust, turning back to the argument raging in the center of the hall.

"Loghain, my decision is final," King Cailan declared. His golden armour had been polished bright, and he looked every inch the shining King, ready to lead his countrymen to victory. "I will stand beside my men and the Grey Wardens in this assault."

'Commendable' he thought admiringly, respectful of King Cailan's intent to lead by example like his father before him.

"You risk too much Cailan," responded Loghain. Ferelden's greatest general was staring at his sovereign as if he was a drunk or a madman, and Alim felt a selfish sense of relief that the Hero of River Dane was not leveling his dark gaze in his direction.

"The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines" Loghain said, a statement that he found very pragmatic, but also very hypocritical. The darkspawn horde, even so numerous as they were, were no more dangerous than the Orlesians in the war. Yet Loghain not only allowed, but encouraged Maric, himself and the other generals to fight on the front lines, and by all accounts Cailan was as fine a warrior as any of them were in their prime.

"If that's the case, perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us after all," the King stated lightly, drawing astonished gasps from some of those assembled and some murmurs, and shouts, of agreement.

Alim himself also agreed, the recent history between Ferelden and Orlais was filled with blood and deceit, and the only way to improve affairs between the two nations was to unite against a common enemy.

Or so were his thoughts anyway, as he had read about many great moments in history when nations united under a common banner to fight an unfathomable evil. An example that could be applied here when Ferelden and Orlais were brought together along with many other nations to combat the fourth blight.

Loghain clearly disagreed, as his jaw clenched so tightly Alim could hear the man's teeth grinding in utter hatred. "I must repeat my protest at your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves!"

"It is not a fool notion," the King answered with surprising steel behind his words. Well, it was surprising for most of the assembled nobles, but Alim was an excellent judge of character, and the king was not as foolish as he seemed as anyone who actually fought at his side could attest to. "Our soldiers deserve better than to stand alone against this threat, and I would not see a single one of them fall for the sake of your pride. Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past, and you will remember who is king!"

He had to agree with Cailan, the darkspawn were a threat to all of Thedas, not just Ferelden. He would welcome the aid of Orlais in this, hell he'd even take Tevinter's aid to see the darkspawn brought to heel.

"How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!" came Loghain's bitter retort.

"You go too far, Loghain!" one of the assembled nobles shouted, his face was red as his well-trimmed beard, and his tabard displaying a green sun on a white field.

This man was Urien Kendells, the arl of Denerim. "Cailan is your rightful King. Your place is to carry out his commands, not trod upon them!"

Loghain was a hero of Ferelden sure enough, and he had been made a teryn by King Maric. But even so he was but a farm boy from no great bloodline. He may not have necessarily agreed with the notion of bloodlines and nobility, but it did seem as though Loghain was growing paranoid as in his advancing age.

Needless to say, but it seemed that the man was wearing out his welcome as far as the other nobles were concerned. Even if only a few were open to the suggestion enough to actually give voice to it.

"Thank you, Urien," added Cailan, quickly composing himself. "I suppose that our current forces will have to suffice for now. I will assume that your units are all assembled and ready?" he asked to those assembled, receiving a chorus of affirmations. "Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"

"They are, Your Majesty."

"And this is the young recruit I met earlier on the road?" Cailan inquired, as all eyes turned towards Alim, some more welcoming than most, a few he would even go so far as to call scathing, but worst was the cleric he had identified earlier. She looked down her nose at him as if he were nothing, no... less than nothing; a worm so far beneath her feet that it was not worthy of being stepped on. "I understand congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said Alim with a salute. "I stand ready to serve, wherever I am needed."

Arl Urien gave Alim a smug look. "Eager to escape the templars, are you?"

'Of course he would choose to comment on that. I'm a mage before an elf, after all.'

"Enough, Urien," Cailan interjected. "I don't care if he is a mage, for young Alim here possesses the honor and courage I would expect out of any of my knights. I know of many men twice his age who lack these qualities."

Urien huffed indignantly at the King's reproof, but did not challenge him, reserving an angry glare for the elf instead. "Every Grey Warden is needed now," Cailan continued. "You should be honored to join their ranks."

"Yes ser."

"Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan," Loghain remarked tartly, barely sparing the two Wardens a glance. "We must attend to reality."

"Fine then, speak your strategy. The bulk of our army and the Grey Wardens form up our battle line in the gorge and provoke the darkspawn into charging our position, correct?" He asked, drawing a finger across the map of Ostagar to indicate the battle line.

"At which point," said Loghain, belaboring every word, "you will alert the tower to light the beacon and signal my men to charge from cover-"

"To flank the darkspawn, I remember. I assume you've designated which units will form your force?"

"Of course, Cailan. All trustworthy and loyal men." Alim narrowed his eyes slightly. It may be that he did not know the man well, but it seemed to him as if Loghain was hiding something. The fact that no one else seemed to notice anything off did concern him however, either he was just jumping at shadows or those gathered trusted Loghain to the point that they did not want to notice anything off about him.

The fact that he was betrayed by one thought trusted himself did not help his suspicious thoughts.

"Excellent, that's what I like to hear. Now, this is the Tower of Ishal you refer to, in the ruins? Who shall light this beacon?"

"I have a few men stationed there," stated Loghain. "It's not a dangerous task, but it is vital. My forces will be concealed from the darkspawn, but so too will they be out of our line of sight. We need the beacon to inform us of the precise moment to charge."

"Then we should send our best, send Alim and Alistair to see that it's done."

"With respect my King, if it's not a dangerous task I can do it myself." Alim said, earning a scathing glare from the mother at the audacity of a mage talking back to his betters.

"No, it's important that you both go."

There was a knowing look in the king's eyes as he said this, but Alim couldn't read the look and simply nodded.

"Yes ser" he bowed and retreated to Duncan's side.

Loghain of course, had his objections, and pitched in his own opinion with a gesture of disdain. "You rely on these Grey Wardens too much. Is that truly wise?"

"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain!" Cailan shouted in exasperation, dismissing his general's concerns with a wave. "Grey Wardens battle the Blight no matter where they are from."

"Your Majesty," Duncan interrupted before the argument could go any further. "You should consider the possibility of the Archdemon appearing."

"There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds," Loghain stated bluntly.

"Besides, isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?" asked the King.

"I… yes, Your Majesty,"

"Then it's settled. Now then Loghain, if you'd like to go over our specific tactics for this battle in more detail-" Cailan asked, only to be interrupted as Ivo approached the war table. The hands of the templars immediately went for their weapons, the Chantry's knights taking no chances with him, especially with the King within range of his magic. "Does the Circle have a suggestion, ser mage?"

"Your Majesty, the tower and it's beacon are unnecessary," suggested Senior Enchanter Ivo, obviously expecting a templar to smite him or one of the nobles to strike him down for daring to stand and speak before the king, as if his voice alone would bewitch the man. The balding man looked around nervously as he felt the piercing glare of the honored mother boring into his back, he licked his lips before proceeding in as confidant a tone as he could manage. "The Circle of Magi can-"

"No!" Came the cleric's expected reprisal, the elderly woman hobbled away from her templar escort, her cane clacking on the ground, sending shudders up Alim's spine. "We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage!" boomed the mother, barely contained revulsion evident on her withered features. "Save them for the darkspawn, lest your unwillingness to bow before the Maker's commandments bring him to anger and doom upon us all."

"I am aware of his commandments, and what do you think we are doing?" the mage snapped in frustration. "Our powers can help Ferelden win this battle! We serve! We can do far more good in this one evening than all your pious prattling and empty platitudes will achieve in a lifetime!"

"Blasphemy!"

"Of course," Alim heard enough and brushed past Duncan despite his better judgement. "Because the task of saving lives should belong only to murderous, lyrium-addicted templars and holier-than-thou priests who demand tithes and donations from beggars who can barely buy bread for their families." Alim ranted, earning a burning glare from the mother and most of the assembled nobles, a nervous look from Hawke and a proud look from the aequitarian/libertarian Ivo.

"Enough!" Loghain roared, the sheer fury in the voice enough to make the belligerents back down. "The plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens shall light the beacon. Your Majesty, the King's Own will hold the center of the main battleline, as you desire. Arl Urien, you will command the right wing, and Bann Darren will hold the left."

"Thank you, Loghain," Cailan said, sighing in relief as the tension had died down and some semblance of order was restored. "I cannot wait for that glorious moment when I ride with the fabled Grey Wardens to stem the tide of evil." He said, his pose and manner of speech conveying nothing but hope, but Alim could detect a gleam of sadness in his eyes.

"Yes, Cailan," came Loghain's answer, his expression unreadable as he looked down upon the map. "A glorious moment for us all. Now then, when the darkspawn begin their advance-"

As Loghain continued his briefing, Alim weighed Cailan's words. Were two Grey Wardens really necessary to see that the beacon was lit? His posting simply might have been a diplomatic concession, a chance to show how the Wardens were truly instrumental to victory, and to ease the minds of those Chantry officials present, though he wondered how Alistair would take it.

It didn't really matter to the elf where they asked him to carry out his duties, as long as he had the opportunity to show the world that mages were not all evil beings who would give in to blood magic and become magisters without a second's notice if given the opportunity.

Sharp violet eyes glanced over the map, and Alim took in the small figurines representing the positions of each unit in the army. If he was reading this right, then Loghain had brought all of his troops from Gwaren with him in his flanking charge, along with the army's heavy cavalry and the regiments of a few other nobles. The elf was trying to identify which heraldry represented each noble when he noticed Loghain glaring at him. Before he could react, the teryn swiftly rolled up the map, dark eyes never leaving Alim for an instant.

"I apologize, my lord. I merely wished to understand my duties within the larger scheme of the plan."

"That is not relevant, Warden. Simply complete your assigned duties and leave strategy to those qualified for it."

"You said something, Loghain?" asked Cailan.

"Nothing worth mentioning."

Loghain shrugged and waved his hand before his face, dismissing any further input on this matter, and Alim sighed at the snub from the older man. Though as it held no real venom behind it, just the curt dismissal of a lower ranked soldier, he payed no further mind to it.

"Then perhaps I might be able to address my officers?" came the gentle demand, and Loghain quickly moved to let him speak. "When do your scouts estimate the horde will be upon us Duncan?" Alim perked up, he did not know of any scouts, he had assumed that those he had found killed in the Wilds were all that there were out there.

A foolish assumption it seemed, given the size of the assembled host.

"After the last battle, the darkspawn forces had drawn back farther than we had initially estimated to regroup. It will be three days at most, and two days at the least before they will be upon us.

Loghain nodded at this, for the very first time showing something other than indifference to any warden. "This will give us ample time to bolster our defenses and modify the battle plan where needed."

"Very good, this will give you time to train your new recruit then" Cailan gestured towards Duncan, and the older man nodded towards the king with a smile.

With that, you are all dismissed."

With a wave and smile from the king, the officers dispersed with Loghain leading his coterie to the flanking position, and Urien and the rest following at the heels of the King. Hawke and the grey-haired captain lingered behind for a moment, observing the elven Warden, reassured by his solid stance despite all of the faces looking down at him during the meeting.

It was a front of course, despite his resolute posture and expression, he was deeply shaken by the events of the last few minutes. For a war meeting he had expected something much longer and with less than half as much squabbling as there had been.

"Corporal Hawke tells me you're a reliable man, Alim of the Grey," said the older man, "and I have learned to trust her judgement."

"That is wise of you, captain. I doubt Ferelden has soldiers any more loyal or dedicated than Hawke."

The Captain let out a barking laugh and looked over at the beaming dark-haired woman. "You shouldn't listen to this kind of talk, Hawke; it'll go straight to your head."

"Too late, Captain Varel," Hawke replied with a playful smirk leveled at the elf, making him smile in return, though not quite as confidently. If she had any doubts about the King's plan, then she was certainly keeping quiet about it. At the moment, her attentions were centered on the elven mage, and Alim felt his face burn at her gaze.

"It's a shame you won't be with us on the front lines, Alim. I suppose I'll have to take all your kills for myself."

"Well, ladies first, of course," Alim jested. "It would be rude of me to deny you the honor of first blood."

Hawke chuckled at as he bent forwards in a playful bow, and Duncan smiled wistfully at the antics of his recruit.

"There will be darkspawn aplenty for all of us, I'm sure," Varel declared. "Duncan, Third Company would be honored if you'd fight alongside us tonight."

"And it would be an honour to accept, but I must decline. The King has insisted that the Wardens take up position alongside his personal guard," Duncan said with an apologetic bow.

"Yes, it makes sense that the King would want you beside him when the time comes. Still, we'd best get on with it. Wardens." Varel saluted them and made to depart.

When they relayed their orders, Alistair didn't bother hiding his disappointment. "What? I'm not going to be part of the battle?"

"This is by the King's personal request, Alistair," Duncan explained. The wind had begun to pick up, carrying with it a taste of frost, and behind them Duncan's campfire blazed warmly against the growing cold of night. "Without that signal, Teryn Loghain won't know when to charge."

"And he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch, just in case, right?" Sarcasm positively dripped from the young man's tongue as he rolled his eyes, but he bowed his head with a sigh at Duncan's disapproving look.

"I have to ask, Duncan... Is this the right call?" asked Alim. "I'm not questioning my orders, I'm willing to carry out whatever duty is required to stop the Blight, but it does seem like we could be of more use to you on the battle line."

"The King will not deviate from the battle plan now, and there are advantages to keeping you both in reserve," Duncan reiterated, his tone all business. "The demands of duty are often not exciting or glorious, but they are necessary, and I expect you to carry out this order to the letter."

"Just so you know," piped up Alistair, "if the King asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line, darkspawn or no."

Duncan gave a labored sigh, and Alim had to stifle a laugh at the former templar's antics. "Well then, should we head down to the valley to join you once the beacon is lit?"

"I do not think that will be necessary. Loghain's flanking charge should end the battle decisively if all goes according to plan. If you are needed, we will send for you. Until that happens, stay inside the Tower."

"And if the Archdemon does make an appearance, what then?"

Alim's voice was trembling as he asked, he didn't want to even think about the archdemon after his nightmare, but the thought that the monster would make an appearance in the coming battle had him too shaken to not voice his concerns.

"Then we soil our drawers, that's what," Alistair quipped.

Not particularly reassuring, that.

"Leave it to us," ordered Duncan. "I want no heroics from either of you."

He wanted to protest, say something about the plan. But Duncan had a great deal more experience than he did, he must have known aught to allay his concerns.

"Is there anything else you would have us do Duncan?" the elf asked.

His expression darkening further, Duncan brought forth some familiar scrolls. "One last duty, before the battle begins."

"The treaties?" Alim asked. "What do you wish for us to do with them? Surely two to three days isn't enough time to secure allies from all over Ferelden."

Duncan smiled grimly and shook his head and continued; "We've had the Circle re-apply the protective spells to them, but they must remain secure at all times. These are your responsibility now, Alim. Whatever happens, you must protect them with your life, and if the battle here does not go as planned then you know what you must do. Alistair, you will assist him in this duty."

"I… I understand," replied Alim, placing the treaties in the leather satchel at his waist. Beside him, Alistair accepted Duncan's command with a nervous smile, all levity vanished.

"Remember that you are both Grey Wardens now, and I expect you to be worthy of that title. Now then, you must sleep. It has been a long day for all of us, and we only have a few days to prepare for war."

"Yes Duncan" the younger recruits said before they both headed down for the main army camp to the Gray Warden's tent. As Commander, Duncan would of course stay in the King's Camp.

Alim walked out of the tent the next morning, stretching his stiff muscles in the crisp morning air of Drakonis, he had already eaten his breakfast with Alistair and the other dozen or so wardens in camp. Jory had not been lying when he had told him that all the other wardens camped out here were human, though to his not inconsiderable delight, and not a little trepidation, there were some female wardens as well.

He was still blushing slightly at the laughing he could still hear at his eating habits, even though none of them had been any better. Particularly the 'leader' of those camped on the ground level, a tattooed dwarf named Korith.

But the fact that had him most on edge was that none of them were terribly... Modest. When they changed their attire for bed, they did so in front of everyone else.

He understood that the battle bonds between the other wardens led to a lot of trust between each other, and he would've thought he'd be used to such things from his upbringing back at the tower. But the other mages tended to be a great deal shyer when it came to such gratuitous displays of flesh, and all but the most shameless of mage apprentices would change behind privacy curtains or behind corners with rather nasty spells to ward off any would be peepers.

With a sigh to calm his nerves, he decided to head over to the archery range to practice with his new bow. He didn't know if he would ever be good enough with it for it to ever be a reliable skill on the battlefield, but Duncan told him there were always other applications for archery.

Once there, he unhooked the bow and drew back the string, the shortbow having a much greater amount of draw weight than he had been expecting after watching Daveth work this bow with such speed and precision. Keeping his arms as steady as he could, but unable to stop at least a little bit of wavering, he closed one eye and fired an arrow at the red and white target.

With his enhanced vision, he could shoot a lot better than he thought he would for his first time holding a bow, but it was still not good enough. His arrow hit the outermost ring of the target, though he supposed he should've felt grateful he had managed to hit the target at all.

He quickly knocked another arrow, aimed and fired. It hit the with the second outermost ring with a thud, though this time it was the target next to the one he was actually aiming at. He sighed, he had been at work for an hour already and progress was slow if indeed there had been any at all. His ears twitched when he heard light footsteps "hello again," spoke the voice of one Marian Hawke.

He turned to look at her with a smile, "Hawke, good morning, and..." There was a man with her, he had rather short black hair in a somewhat plain style, blue eyes a shade darker than Hawke's and a square shaped face. He had a farm-boy's build and wore a rather simple outfit consisting of a white sleeveless shirt that laced up in the front, dark brown trousers, a leather belt with suspenders, knee high boots, and leather bracers with metal plates riveted to them.

"This is..." Hawke began, but was interrupted "Carver, and I suppose you're that elf my who was flirting with my sister yesterday?" They clasped each other's wrists in greeting, Carver squeezing slightly in an effort to intimidate him, and considering he felt the larger man's tight grip through his hardened leather gloves, he had to say it was working.

"Um..." he said intelligently, grimacing as his had was squeezed even tighter before Carver's overprotective brother act was met with a slap upside his head.

"Don't worry about him, he was just leaving" Hawke said meaningfully while leveling a stern look at her younger brother, and Carver went grumbling over to where they held the sword drills.

"So, aside from the ever so slightly embarrassing greeting, how are you doing?" She asked, drawing her longbow and lining it up for a shot. He took a moment to examine at her no less than flawless form, unable to help comparing it to his own fumbling attempts at the archery range. Her feet were spread shoulder distance apart, her back was completely straight, the bow was held in her left hand with the arm perfectly aligned with her shoulders, and the arrow was held on top of her extended index finger, and she drew it back to her ear with the upper left arm being in perfect alignment with her left.

She loosed the arrow, and it hit dead center on the same target he had been working on earlier.

She turned to look at his wide-eyed face with a smirk that told him that she knew of his admiring of her body. "I-" he tried to explain himself, but she shushed him and grabbed his arms and lined them up at the target.

"You need to spread your legs more." She said, correcting his stance with her feet, and she lifted his arms to the appropriate position to shoot correctly. "Alright, shoot." She ordered and, looking down the shaft of the arrow and exhaling evenly, he let it go.

It hit the second innermost ring.

He lowered his bow with a disbelieving look on his face, Hawke chuckled and asked, "are you sure this is your first time using a bow?" she asked lightheartedly.

"Well... there was this one time when I was six when I shot myself in the foot with Grandfather's bow." He said causing her to grimace. She shook her head to rid herself of the mental image and grabbed his wrist. "Come on, you won't get better right away and you need a break." She began pulling him toward the sword ranges.

"Now I have to ask, what has you all flustered?" Hawke asked with a smile over her shoulder "you were so eloquent last night and now you're tripping over your words like a fresh-faced schoolboy."

he hadn't even noticed, but it seemed he had been acting differently today, a great deal more reserved than he usually was. Ever since leaving the tower, he had become quite the chatterbox, trying to learn as much about the outside world, and the people therein, as he possibly could.

"Well, the female wardens have this initiation that they put all the new recruits through... or so they told me. I managed to hold out last night without having to go through it but..." He ended his tirade with a heavy blush, the memory of half a dozen women advancing towards his cot like hungry predators, though perhaps only jokingly he thought in hindsight, leaving him lost for words.

"Initiation? What... oh" she made a perfect 'O' with her mouth, "and you actually said 'no'?" she asked teasingly, an amused smile on her face and laughter in her eyes.

"Well I... yes." He said, and now she actually laughed at him. "I don't know, if a bunch of beautiful grey warden women were propositioning me like that, and perhaps a few handsome young men as well..."

After a moment of silence from Hawke, Alim grew increasingly more curious, and not a little bit concerned, and couldn't help asking what she meant by that.

"Well, it wouldn't be my first rodeo." She winked at him impishly, making him wonder if she wasn't just joking, before she continued without giving him the chance to ask. "You need to learn a lot more than just archery if you want to survive here." She said, pushing him into a small ring and unsheathing the beautiful saber at her side and giving it a few test swings to warm herself up.

"You want to do it here then?" She smirked at his use of innuendo, and he tightened his grip on his staff which he had since gotten back from the quartermaster. He didn't know what he expected the man to do with it, but he was both disappointed and not surprised in the least when he found a blade fixed to the end. He was lucky if he could get one or two sword duels a week back at the tower, now here he was actually being dragged into one. He almost laughed in spite of himself.

"Alright, I'm ready Hawke." Almost before he could finish his sentence she had blurred into motion, and he almost didn't have time to get his staff in position to parry it to the side. She was a lot faster than he thought, certainly more so than any of the templars he had sparred with.

The two circled each other, trading only minor blows while she coached him about all the small errors he was making with his footwork. Apparently, the melee training he had undergone at the tower was flawed, perhaps purposefully so. But then again, he supposed he couldn't really expect any different from mage hunters.

She rushed him, and when he tried to parry her sword, he quickly found that it was only a feint when she hooked his staff with the curve of her blade and used her momentum to knock it out of his hand before she bellowed out in victory and slapped him on the backside with the broad side of her sword. He yelped and looked at her like a surprised deer at a hunter.

She giggled and blew him a kiss playfully before sauntering over to her side of the ring, her hips swaying seductively the whole way.

She pirouetted on the spot, the tail of her coat flapping noisily in the cold air as she posed melodramatically with her blade and faced him again, as he picked up his staff turned glaive.

Looking down at the weapon thoughtfully for a long moment, he kicked it over to the arena boundary and drew his blade hilt from his belt and ignited the blade. "Oh, now that's a neat trick."

She smirked wider and rushed him again.

Alim and Marian sat against the side of the ring, leaning against each other and panting heavily, him more so than her. "You should... you should be a general" Alim commented on her stellar performance, "yes well, I don't really want to draw too much attention to myself" she jested in return.

He suppressed a grin when he saw that her swords were stabbed into the ground, his blade hilt a short distance away in an ironic display of her many victories over him on this day. His staff/glaive and her spear were at opposite sides of the ring, and her longbow was still perched on the fence.

They had spent a good portion of the day fighting their mock battle, attracting the attention of several passers by, both combatants and non. They had used every weapon in their arsenal, and she had beaten him handily every time.

True the Joining had increased his strength and stamina, but he was still too inexperienced to make any real use of it yet. He still needed practice, much more practice, before he could fight on her level. Hawke had been training her arse off her entire life in order to protect her family and had only increased her regimen three years prior when her father died.

He yelped indignantly when something large and heavy plopped down on top of his head and a feminine voice said joyfully "oh! So, this is why you skipped out on the initiation last night," he paled slightly when he heard the loud and boisterous voice with the thick Rivaini accent that could only belong to Jena.

He leapt hurriedly to his feet to see none other than the most well-known warden in the entire camp aside from the commander, though perhaps not for the right reasons. She wore the grey warden warrior uniform, though at the moment it was missing its breastplate, and the top of her uniform slightly undone to show a generous amount of cleavage. He gulped and backed away, but she advanced forward to close the distance and reached a hand up to caress his face "so you skipped out on spending the night with me because you wanted the sexy tomboy?"

If Hawke was insulted by that remark, then she certainly didn't show it, simply eyeing the woman up and down and smiling amusedly at her over the top antics.

"That hurts me, you know?" she said, cupping her face with her hands and pretending to cry.

"Uh..." he uttered intelligently, 'damn it!' He thought to himself. He didn't know why; she was clearly just teasing him but for some reason he couldn't pin down it still bothered him to see her acting this way.

"Hey now, don't..." he started, but when he got within a few paces of her she simply grinned maniacally and moved to get him in a chokehold.

"So how about it?" Jena asked, her voice instantly taking a turn from seductive to playful as Alim gasped in her hold. Hawke was visibly stunned at the sudden mood switch, not knowing what to make of the beautiful dusky skinned woman. "You, me and the sexy elf?" He almost sputtered at her proposition.

Alim was incredibly nervous when talking about sexual topics, though of course he was quite carefree when actually doing it... but even then, he never did it with more than one person at a time... or anyone besides other elves.

He was distracted from his thoughts by Jena dropping him, he quickly caught his balance again and straightened up to see the woman's wide, goofy grin and considerably more relaxed posture with her hands perched on her wide hips.

"Relax, I'm joking! Well, at least partially. You really need to learn to lighten up.

Alim and Hawke simply blinking owlishly at the woman, astonished by her mood shifts.

"You didn't think I really wanted to... well that could be a lot of fun, but I just came over to mess around with you guys. You're taking this all too seriously, it's bad for your health"

Not knowing how to react to this strange woman, Hawke and Alim started laughing. Small at first, the two eventually bending forward and letting loose deep roaring laughter.

"Finally, I was wondering how long it would take to get through to you guys" Jena chuckled and crossed her arms under her breasts as she watched the two leaning against each other for support as all the stress disappeared from their faces.

I apologize for the overly long hiatus; I was suffering from severe depression.