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[In for a Silver]
Daveth crossed his arms, leaning against the side of a building and stroking his chin as he sized up his mark. He chuckled at the feeling of déjà vu, shaking his head slightly. The man he was after was a dark-haired Rivaini; a mercenary, Daveth thought, looking at the man's ornate armor and weapons. Too risky to try and snatch one of his blades, he thought, pursing his lips. Tabby might be able to, though…he mused, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
Daveth began walking, losing himself in the crowded market as he crept closer to his target. He stood right behind the man and cut the strings of his coin-purse, turning to slip away before anyone noticed. A bolt of fear jarred through Daveth, and he slowly turned his head – the man had grabbed his wrist, and was holding him in a vice-grip.
"Thief!" a woman screamed nearby, and the man gripping Daveth's hand started slightly. Daveth swore and managed to squirm out, nearly wrenching his shoulder from the socket, the way he was flailing about. He bolted through the market and down an alleyway, nearly yelping with surprise – the old bugger was faster than he looked, and was catching up fast.
"Sod it," Daveth muttered, leaping up a stack of barrels and getting onto the rooftops, swearing again as the man continued to chase him. "Of course I pick the one man who can climb the sodding rooftops!" he growled, leaping across a gap between buildings and yelping – his foot slid on a loose shingle and he skidded down the side of the roof, falling into an alleyway below and landing on a pair of guards taking a smoke-break.
"Hold it!" one of them grabbed him, pinning his arms down as he held Daveth to the ground.
"Hey! That's the guy the captain was telling us about – he said this man's gotten away from him for nearly six years, now," the other one said. "The ol' Cap'll want him strung up before noon," he added, and Daveth bucked violently, trying to get away.
"Right, sorry about that," the first guard said, talking to Daveth.
"If you were sorry you'd let me go you sodding son of a–" Daveth trailed off as he spotted the old man he had tried to rob – he had dropped down from the rooftops and was walking towards the guards.
"Excuse me, but I would ask you to release that man," the Rivaini man said, and the guards looked up at him oddly, shaking their heads.
"Sorry, can't do that Ser," the guard sitting on Daveth apologized. "This one's a wanted man – he's going to the gallows." Daveth struggled again, gritting his teeth and bucking, but the guard was too heavy to throw off in his full armor.
"What is his name?" the man asked, and the other guard snorted.
"Sod if I now," he retorted, crossing his arms. "He's a dead man, either way."
"Daveth," Daveth spoke, looking up at the man. "My name is Daveth." The older man smiled slightly, nodding and kneeling next to Daveth.
"Daveth, my name is Duncan," the man introduced himself. "That you were able to cut my purse nearly undetected shows great finesse." Daveth wondered why Duncan was complimenting a dead man, and the man who had stolen form him, no less. "There is a horde of darkspawn forming in the south," he continued, and Daveth and the guards balked. "I would like to offer you a chance for freedom – a place with the Grey Wardens."
Daveth stared at Duncan with an open mouth, not sure what to say. A Grey Warden! Of all the people in all of Denerim, I cut the purse of a sodding Grey Warden!? Before Daveth could speak – because sod yes he was accepting, if it meant not getting strung up – the guard sitting on him cleared his throat, shaking his head.
"Excuse me, Ser Duncan, but this man is wanted for innumerable offenses," he argued, and Daveth snorted.
"I'm a thief not a murderer," he scoffed, and the guard scowled at him.
"Regardless, I find myself in need of recruits – this young man has skills that would benefit the Grey Wardens' ranks," Duncan replied. When the guards looked at one another, and he sensed that they were going to be difficult, he let out a sigh. "Then I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription – Daveth is now in the custody of the Grey Wardens," Duncan said, and the guards stared at him.
"B-but what will we tell the captain?" one of them asked. Duncan helped Daveth to his feet, making sure the man was unhurt from his fall earlier.
"Tell him that this man is under the direct protection of the Warden-Commander of Ferelden," Duncan replied, and Daveth stared at him in awe. Warden-Commander!? Maker's breath, I should count my lucky stars that I was spared, Daveth thought. He jumped as Duncan glanced back at him, a small smile on the man's face. "Come along, now – I would like to leave Denerim immediately," he urged, and Daveth followed quickly behind the man as he left the alley. Unable to resist it, Daveth turned back to the pair of incredulous guards and gave them the finger, smirking as he ran after Duncan.
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And so ends Daveth's tale, which picks up in Ostagar. I hope you liked it :)