Daveth was ten when his mother died. The boy packed up what food he could and headed west, hoping to find Denerim. Instead, he found Ostagar, abandoned and crumbling. He lasted three days until he'd scared himself with thoughts of witches and wildlings coming to eat him and went back to the village. His father had thrashed him doubly hard that night.
He was sixteen when he ran away the fourth time and actually ended up in Denerim. After hours of heading north on the Imperial highway, some traders spotted him and offered him a ride on their wagon. He promised himself he'd never go back as he watched the hinterlands fade into the horizon - but a lot of promises were broken in the name of survival. Daveth felt a bitter taste in his mouth, and for moment he wondered how much of that boy was still in him. He pushed the thoughts away.
He glanced over at Jory, who had taken a liking to sitting mournfully by the fire each night, moaning about his fat wife in Highever. It was hard to believe the knight had won some fancy tournament, given how much he complained. Tonight, Jory sat chewing on his bread like a cow, his blank stare fixated on nothing in particular. Duncan had retired to his tent for a few hours rest.
"What's on your mind, Ser Knight?" Daveth asked, lazily tossing a stone into the fire.
Jory turned his head slowly and frowned. "I was just thinking about my wife. She's heavy with child and I regret leaving her."
Daveth smirked and leaned forward. "I'm disappointed in you, Ser Knight, getting all worked up over a pretty face."
"That's not how it is at all," Jory replied sadly, his large eyes pricked with tears.
"Oh? My mistake then. It's even worse if the woman is ugly, but I suppose it's what's between her legs that really counts." Daveth winked at him.
Jory's face reddened. "My wife is the most beautiful woman in all of Highever. I thank the Maker every day for her! You… you have no right to talk about her like that. We may be brothers in arms, but I would not hesitate in defending her honor!"
Daveth rolled his eyes. "Fat lot of good that would do you out here, Ser Knight." He pulled his cloak over his shoulders before leaning back and closing his eyes. He heard the knight mutter something under his breath, and he gave himself up to the Fade.
Duncan led them down the old Tevinter road into Ostagar, and Daveth felt a chill. It hadn't changed much since he had been there as a boy, save for the armies. He listened as Duncan filled them in on the situation: a Blight was looming, and King Cailan hoped to end it before it began by bringing the fight to the darkspawn. Jory had paled at that, though for once, kept his complaints to himself. Daveth clenched his jaw and walked on, following Duncan to the Grey Warden tent.
"Duncan!" a voice called out merrily as they approached. Daveth turned to see a young man jogging toward them. "I was just about to send out a search party."
"Alistair," Duncan said warmly. "I'd like you to meet our newest recruits. This is Ser Jory, from Highever, and Daveth, from Denerim. Would you mind showing them around Ostagar? I must seek counsel with the king."
Alistair nodded. "Welcome to Ostagar, I'll be your tour guide. To your left you'll see the scenic crumbling ruin, and to your right you'll see… oh, looks like more scenic crumbling ruin!" Daveth grinned back, thankful that this one at least had a sense of humor.
"So, Ser Jory, is it? Duncan said he was hoping to recruit you. But Daveth, I'm afraid I haven't heard much about you aside from Duncan's letter."
"Oh, I'm not nearly as accomplished as our esteemed Ser Knight, but this beats cutting purses any day." Daveth grinned, punching Jory on the arm. "Isn't that right, brother?"
Jory snorted. "I am not your brother, and I cannot believe I am to share rank with a common thief."
Alistair glanced at the knight and smirked. "Funny, the Wardens only recruit uncommon thieves."
Daveth snickered as Jory's face turned red and turned back to their guide. "What about you, Alistair? How'd you end up in the Wardens?"
"Oh, it's pretty boring, really," Alistair said with a shrug. "I spent years rotting in the Chantry and training as a templar before Duncan came and recruited me. That was, what, six months ago? Anyway, here I am, a Grey Warden."
They found Duncan later, plotting out a trail on his map. He said he would be heading north in search of one last recruit, and would send a letter when he was coming back. Daveth watched him walk away and rubbed the back of his neck.
"He's a pretty decent fellow, that Duncan," he thought aloud as Duncan's silhouette disappeared on the horizon.
"He's the finest man I've ever known," Alistair replied and cleared his throat. "Come on… let's get you fellows some food."
Several weeks passed before Duncan sent news of his return. The armies and Grey Wardens alike were preparing for something big, and Daveth had overheard hushed conversations. Duncan would be putting them through some sort of ritual upon his return, though just what that ritual entailed never found its way to Daveth's ears. He'd even gone as far as to ask Alistair what the big secret was, but the templar was not exactly forthcoming.
"I'd tell you if I could," Alistair said with a sigh. "But Duncan will explain everything soon enough."
So, Daveth did what he did best and snuck around the camp looking for marks, though he hadn't actually cut a purse since Denerim. Except Jory's… once. He'd spied Jory talking with a priestess, forlorn and oblivious, and before Daveth really knew what he was doing, he'd gone up and slipped the knight's purse right off his belt. Later on when the knight noticed it was missing, Daveth grinned and tossed it to him.
"Better watch where you leave your things, Ser Knight," he said. Jory had thrown a fit and threatened to tell Duncan upon his return, though he couldn't prove Daveth had actually taken his purse. And none of his things were missing. Daveth just laughed and went to sleep.
A few more days passed when he saw the dwarf, and he knew that Duncan had returned. He'd been flirting with one of the king's soldiers when he spotted her. She was taller than he'd expected dwarves to be - not quite so tall as an elf, but built much stronger.
"Well, you're not what I expected you'd be," he called to her. She stopped and turned to him, eyeing him curiously before approaching.
"And who are you?" the dwarf asked, quirking an eyebrow. She was pleasant to look at, Daveth thought, though nothing about her was particularly striking. Well, maybe the tattoos. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a look about her to let on she'd seen more than most.
"The name's Daveth, and it's about bloody time you came along," Daveth grinned at her. "I was beginning to think they cooked up this ritual just for our benefit."
"I'm Natia," she replied, brushing a stray hair away from her face. "What do you know about this 'ritual', anyway?"
Daveth leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. "I happened to be sneaking around camp last night, see, and I heard some Wardens talking… so, I listen in a for bit. I think they're planning to send us into the Wilds."
Natia frowned. "The Wilds? Never heard of them."
"Oh, right, don't expect that you would have. The Wilds are full of witches and barbarians, and other beasts. Scary place, if you ask me."
Natia cocked her head, smiling. "I'll watch your back if you watch mine."
"Oh, I'll watch your back alright," Daveth shot back, grinning.
"Just don't get too distracted back there," Natia purred.
"I'll try not to," Daveth called behind her as she walked away. He whistled softly to himself, and made his way back to Duncan's tent.
He was staring at the fire and nursing his flagon of water when Jory flopped down beside him, a foul look on his stupid face.
"What's the matter, Ser Knight?" Daveth asked.
Jory stared into the fire. "What do you think about the dwarf Duncan recruited?"
"Natia? She's got a nice ass and a sense of humor," Daveth replied. "Which is more than I can say about you."
The knight scowled. "I didn't even know dwarves could join the Grey Wardens, and she's a woman, too. And she told me I was stupid."
Daveth spit out his water and laughed. "What's the matter, Ser Knight? Afraid she's more of a man that you are? Besides, the dwarves were fighting darkspawn long before you were suckling at your poor mother's teat."
"I… that's just… I'll have you know I worked very hard to get here," Jory stammered, his face turning all shades of red.
Daveth smirked at him. "You keep saying that, Ser Knight, but in the end, a dog is just a dog."
"I'm going to find Duncan and… you'll regret saying these things to me!"
"Are you going to tell him I hurt your feelings? I'm sure he'd love to see you for the blubbering mess you are."
Jory's face crumpled and tears began streaming down his face.
Daveth rolled his eyes and groaned. "Oh, Maker, pull yourself together." He awkwardly patted the knight's back, and looked around him. Duncan had returned to the tent and Natia and Alistair were walking up as well.
He pulled Jory to his feet and listened. It was time to start the ritual, and they were going into the Wilds, after all.