After weeks of travel, Adela had gotten used to sleeping with nothing between her and the ground but the material of her bedroll. Still, she winced as she rose, stretching, arching her back, wishing for a real bed. She sighed, wondering if she would ever again sleep indoors, on a real bed with bedcovers as opposed to a sleeping sack ever again. She pulled her fingers through her silky hair, grimacing slightly at the dirty feel of it, and wondered if there was somewhere she could get a bath. Most likely not, she ruefully thought, and pulled on her breeches and tunic. She looked over at her mother's armor - well, now it was her armor. Breakfast first, she decided, attempt to find a bath, and then she'd try on the armor. Her plans for the morning set, she grabbed her boots and pack and stepped from her tent.
It was early - so early the sun was just coming up over the horizon. The fire pit still contained remnants of last night's fire and was easy for her to get started. There were soldiers and messengers already bustling about, but, judging from the noises coming from the other tents in their camp, she gathered she was the first to rise in the recruit camp. Frowning, she scanned the area, trying to recall just where the mess tent was located. Spotting it, she pulled on her boots, shouldered her pack and hurried over.
There were few inside (either it was too early or not early enough), but pans full of bacon and eggs and other breakfast items lined one wall, Grabbing a plate, she spooned out some eggs, grabbed a roll and set these on a nearby table. Locating a steaming kettle of tea, she poured herself a cup and settled down to eat. No familiar faces were seen, and so she finished her meal quietly and quickly, and decided to go on the hunt for a bath.
DA:O
Alistair didn't know what to do. Jory and Daveth had risen shortly after he had, but there was still no sign of Adela. He stared gloomily at her tent. Should he just walk in? He had tried calling her name, quietly, but had received no response. He had even tapped on the tent flap and again was met with silence. Daveth had offered to creep in and ease her awake, but the grin the rogue wore on his rugged face only confirmed that that would not be the best idea. With a shrug and glance to each other, the knight and rogue decided to head off to the mess tent for breakfast, leaving a bewildered Alistair behind.
Rubbing a hand roughly over his close shorn hair, the former templar had no idea what to do. He had been raised in a Chantry and had little experience with women who were not priests. He did know, however, that just barging into a woman's tent, uninvited, and while still practically strangers, would be a big no-no. He wished Duncan was there; the commander would not have any reservations, he was certain.
Steeling his resolve, straightening his back, Alistair made the decision. He'll just poke his head in just barely…
"Alistair?"
Jumping, a guilty flush staining his cheeks, the young Warden turned around to see the elven woman who had been the cause of his dilemma standing behind him, her long blonde hair hanging, wet, down her back, her cheeks rosy, and a towel held in one hand. A questioning look in her eyes as she stared at the man who had opened the flap to her tent. Jumping back, Alistair stuttered. "I, ah, was just…ahmm…" he looked at the tent again, and then back the young woman. The questioning look in her eyes had brightened to amusement, and she grinned as she stepped up to him, waiting for him to move aside from her tent so she could deposit her damp towel and sundries within. She turned her amused gaze back upon the Warden.
Taking a deep breath, for all the world feeling like the little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Alistair mumbled, "I thought you were asleep."
Biting her lip, unable to keep the smile from spreading across her face, Adela whispered, "So you were going to go inside…?"
His head snapped up, his embarrassment clear, and he adamantly shook his head. "No, no, no, no…I was just going to…open the tent flap and call to you," he said sheepishly. His brow furrowed. "How long have you been awake?"
"Oh," she nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders, "Since sun up." She looked at him appraisingly, "Shouldn't you all have been up then?" she asked.
"Well, usually, I am, but, I, ah, didn't sleep well last night," it was the truth. Alistair had lain awake thinking about the newest recruit and wondered about her relationship to the king. He glanced down at her hands, noticing her turning the gold band that set upon her finger. Her ring finger. He started. A wedding ring? "You're married?" the question was out of his mouth before he had time to think. Oh, maker! She's married!
"What?" she looked confused, and then glanced down at her hands. Looking back up, she peered into Alistair's eyes. Well, tried to. The young man was trying very hard to look anywhere but her eyes. "No, not married. I was betrothed…but…things didn't work out," there was a touch of sadness in her voice, and she dropped her gaze back to the ring. Although overjoyed she wasn't married, Alistair did notice the sadness that spread across her face. What should he say?
Before he could even come up with a rejoinder, Duncan strolled into the camp, Jory and Daveth not far behind.
"Ah, good, you are all here," Duncan turned his gaze to Adela, "And I see you managed to find the bathhouse." Adela smiled happily at that, pulled her hair and wringing more water from it. Jory and Daveth by then had joined them and Duncan motioned them to the fire, now burning hotly in the center of their camp.
Alistair stepped away from Adela and took his place by Duncan's side. Daveth went to stand beside Adela (a little too closely for the elf's comfort, but she didn't want to insult the man by moving a step away), Jory taking a place slightly behind the two.
"Today you three will be going into the Wilds, each of you to retrieve a vial of darkspawn blood," Duncan instructed, his eyes going from one recruit to another. Adela met his eyes, but her brows raised slightly, a questioning look in her eyes; Daveth's face took on a slightly green pallor while Jory frowned intensely.
"Wait," Adela started, "is this part of the joining?" She asked, wondering if now she'd get an answer.
"In fact, it is," Duncan confirmed. "I cannot go into further detail, but suffice it to say this is part of the joining."
Adela nodded. So, the test required they face darkspawn and retrieve the blood. Why the blood? Her quick mind settled on the most likely explanation: as proof that they were each able to face the monsters and bring them down.
"There are also some old Grey Warden ruins located in the Wilds," Duncan continued, "Within those ruins you should find a chest with a Grey Warden seal upon it. Retrieve the documents contained therein and return them to me."
"What kind of documents are these?" ever curious Adela asked.
"Old treaties," Duncan answered, "promising aid to the Grey Wardens in times of Blights."
Alistair was confused, "I don't understand. If they're so valuable, why were they left behind, the rot in old ruins?"
Shaking his dark head, Duncan replied, "It was always assumed we would return someday," he sighed, "A great many things were assumed that did not come to pass." A frown marred his rugged features. "The treaties were once considered merely a formality. Now, with many forgetting their obligations to the Grey Wardens, it will be wise for us to have these to help remind others of those same responsibilities."
"Get the blood and retrieve the treaties," Adela was saying. "So, when do we head out?"
His eyes skimming over her form quickly, he replied, "As soon as you are armed and armored."
Glancing down at herself, the elf grinned ruefully. "Okay, okay, off I go," she stopped, looking back at the elder Grey Warden, "Unless you have further instruction?"
He chuckled. "No. Alistair, of course, will be accompanying you. However, he will not be leading, but observing, as well as guiding and assisting with trouble. Listen to him carefully, as he has fought darkspawn before." With that, and a nod to the junior Warden, Duncan left the camp to go about other duties he no doubt had to see to.
The three recruits exchanged brief looks, and then Adela went to her tent to put on her armor and gather her weapons.
She picked the armor up from where it lay upon her pack, running her hands over the intricate designs stitched into the supple leather. She remembered seeing her mother wearing this set, and she hoped she would make her proud. She quickly divested herself of breeches and pulled on the leather skirt, lacing the sides and letting it fall to below mid thigh. She remembered that the skirt had fallen higher up the leg on her mother. Grinning, she pulled off her tunic and pulled on the top piece, lacing the sides. Next went on her shoulder guards and boots. Strapping the knee guard of the boots securely around her knees, she then pulled out the gloves. Like the armor and boots, the gloves were designed for someone who fought mostly with a bow, but could easily shift to wielding a blade. The leather guard covered her forearms, elbow guards strapping securely and comfortably about elbows. The gloves covered the entirety of the backs and palms of her hands, and half way up her long, slender fingers. The leather ended, exposing naked fingertips that could feel the string of a bow fair better than leather clad fingers could. Fully armored, Adela took a glance down at herself. She blushed faintly at the amount of exposed midriff as well as upper arm and leg. She moved about a bit in the armor, twisting at the waist, assuming an archer's stance. She had to admit, despite being a cloddish bigot, the quartermaster certainly knew his work. The armor fit snuggly where it should, and gave away in other areas allowing for comfortable movement. She was also impressed with the quality of the stitches. Rebraiding her long hair in a single braid that fell down her back, she then twisted it in a knot and secured it at the base of her neck. Maybe I should cut it off? Pleased, the elf slung her bow and quiver full of arrows over her shoulder, strapped her daggers to her hips, took a deep breath and stepped out into the camp.
She expected a reaction - open leering from Daveth, certainly, even a scandalized expression to cross Jory's face. But, she could have almost laughed as Alistair's face, after one look at her in her armor, turned crimson right to the tips of his ears. Daveth's reaction she could almost tolerate - she knew his sort and was prepared for open ogling. Jory's reaction was superbly predictable. With Alistair, she was actually expecting a joke tossed her way. His embarrassed reaction was a bit more than she had expected, and she had to restrain herself from laughing at him.
"See now, Ser Knight," Daveth said with a sweeping motion toward the elven craftswomen-turned-Dalish-archer, "that is why I joined. The women. 'Course," he turned appreciative eyes to Adela, who met his frank admiration with a raised eyebrow, "I had thought I'd be the warrior impressing the ladies, not the other 'way 'round."
Jory's expression didn't change, but she did note that Alistair's face was beginning to assume its normal hue. Clearing his throat, trying very hard not to look there, Alistair found his voice. "Okay, all." Well, okay, there was a slight hitch to his voice. Where did she get that armor? Maker! It looked…she looks…"Let's go." And with that, Alistair led his charges to the gate that led into the Wilds.
The small group passed nearby Loghain's encampment. Several soldiers and guards had looked up to watch the four, eyes inevitably straying to the elven figure. Scowling at the sudden lack of attention his men were paying, Loghain glanced over. Spying Adela, he nearly did a double take. With her blonde hair up, dressed in the Dalish armor and carrying that bow, Adela was, despite her lack of height and size, the spitting image of Adaia. No, he corrected himself. While he had always found Adaia to be a striking woman, Adela was more. She was beautiful. The Teryn watched as the young woman and her companions approached the gates and, after a brief discussion with the guardsman there, she and the others passed through and headed out to the Wilds. Anxious that she was left in the care of the fool Alistair, he prayed that she would return, in one piece. After another moment, Loghain turned back to the soldier he was speaking with.
DA:O
A 'twang' from her bow, an arrow shot straight and true, and the final adversarial wolf fell at Alistair's feet, dead. Panting hard, leaning his hands on his knees, the young Warden shot Adela a grateful smile as she trotted up to him. Scanning the area quickly, assured there were no more foes at the moment, the young elf slung her bow back onto her shoulder, and carefully started running her hands over Alistair's neck, shoulders and arms. Forgetting his own shyness, the Warden appreciated her attention. "So, am I in one piece?" he asked, that jovial laughter back in his voice despite his panting.
Adela returned his smile and nodded, "Looks like you'll live," she responded, then left to go check on Daveth and Jory.
Daveth had escaped the fight without so much as a scratch, but Jory's armor had a few pulls where wolves had sunk their teeth into the leather straps of his scale armor. However, he didn't appear injured. Adela, her strong suit being archery, had stood back and shot at the pack of wolves that had inexplicably attacked them as they passed the boundaries of the Wilds. She glanced back at the bodies of about a dozen white wolves, thinking that it was too bad they did not have time to skin the animals. She knew a leather worker in Denerim that would love to work these hides.
Her gaze stopped at a pile of something lying near the shore of one of the swamps. Alistair noted the frown that formed on her face. "What?" he asked as he stood straight and went to her side. "Do you see it?" she asked, pointing in the direction. "It almost looks like…" and the frown turning in a scowl the elf broke off and began trotting away from the Warden in the direction of the pile. Muttering under his breath, Alistair glanced back toward the knight and rogue, who were both drinking water from flasks, and ran to catch up with the nimble elf.
Adela stopped quickly, her heart in her throat. The pile she had noticed was the decomposing body of a man. Despite the time in the weather, she was able to make out that he had been a young man, and dressed in what could have been Chantry robes. Not very practical for the Wilds, she thought grimly. She spied a scroll tube clutched in one hand. Stepping up to the body, she crouched down, and gingerly pulled the case free of the man's stiff fingers. She winched at the sucking sounds her feet made, there in the muddy shore of the pond. Pulling it free, she rose, holding the tube carefully. She stepped away from the body, pulled the ceramic cap from the tube and pulled the parchment rolled up inside out. Alistair had by this time moved to stand over Adela's shoulder, curious as to what the scroll said. Adela read, her eyes tearing a bit as she realized the fate of the young man mentioned in the note:
"My dear son, Jogby,
"I fear this is the last letter I will write to you, I have had difficulty finding the Chasind to bring them the Maker's word. I have, however, seen evidence of their passing. They appear to have left this area in great haste, possibly fleeing the so-called "darkspawn" that are rumored to be gathering in the Wilds in ever greater numbers.
"I have left you a weapon and everything else I can spare, my son. I will try to find you once I have found a safe place. I only hope that you will be safe. With luck, we will meet again.
"If you see her, tell your mother that I love her. And take care of you family.
"Your loving father,
"Rigby "
Adela bowed her head and Alistair looked back at the body. "Poor fellow," he murmured. Placing a hand on Adela's shoulder, the Warden gestured that they should rejoin their companions. With a final look at the body, regretful that they had to leave him there, a victim to the Wilds, they went back to the others, the young woman tucking the parchment back into the scroll tube and tucking it in her pack.
Jory and Daveth watched the pair approach. Tucking their water flasks back into their packs, the pair picked up their weapons and followed the pair, their eyes staring out into the surrounding wilderness with fear and apprehension.
An anguished, choking sound rose to Adela's sensitive ears and she stopped, putting a hand on Alistair's arm. The Warden stopped and cocked his head, listening. Yes, he heard it too. Exchanging a look with the elven archer, he trotted ahead and Adela turned to the others advising them to be prepared and to follow, weapons ready. She pulled her bow from her shoulder, notching an arrow, and followed the junior Warden.
There, dragging himself across the muddy ground, leaving a path of blood behind him, was a young soldier dressed in Highever livery. Adela replaced her bow and pulled from her pack healing poultices and bandages as Alistair knelt beside the man.
"Hold on, man," he whispered.
The injured solider glanced up. "What? Who?" he noticed the emblem on Alistair's shield. "Grey Wardens?"
"Hmm…he's not half as dead as he appears," Alistair deadpanned. Adela shot him a look and gently eased the man over on his side. He had numerous wounds along his chest and stomach, and while obviously painful and the man was fatigued, he would survive the injuries if he was taken back to camp. She voiced this, but the solider only shook his head, "Just…just bandage me up. I need…to report to Teryn Loghain and tell him that our patrol was overtaken by darkspawn!"
As Adela continued to bandage the soldier, Alistair continued asking him questions: Where was the rest of his patrol? Where was Fergus Cousland, the nobleman who led this patrol? Each question Alistair posed was answered in the negative - he did not know.
"There," Adela said as she tightened the last bandage and handed the man another poultice with instructions to place it on the deep wound on his chest once he returned to camp. With a grateful nod, the soldier pushed himself to his feet, and staggered back in the direction of the camp.
As Adela repacked her medical supplies, Alistair rose. He met two pair of dark, concerned eyes. It was Jory that spoke first. "Did you hear that?" He anxiously glanced about, as though the trees themselves would suddenly jump out and tear him apart. "A whole platoon of seasoned soldiers, wiped out."
"Calm down, Ser Jory," Alistair spoke in soothing tones. Adela stood up, pulling her bow from her shoulder.
"Calm down?" Jory's tone was incredulous. "How can I remain calm with a hoard of darkspawn about? Now," he straightened his shoulders slightly, "I'm no coward, but this is reckless and foolish. I say we return to camp."
"Ser Jory," the elf caught the human's attention. She almost winced at the fright she saw clearly in his eyes. Why did Duncan recruit this man? "This is part of the joining, the see if we are worthy to join the Wardens…"
Jory scoffed, "Have I not already earned my place?" He demanded. "If I had known there would be more tests…!"
But Alistair was shaking his head, "There are darkspawn about, but we are in no danger of encountering the hoard or suffering an ambush." Maintaining that calm, comforting tone, he continued, "That's why I'm here."
"You see Ser Knight," Daveth piped in, "we may be killed, but we'll be warned about it first." Adela just rolled her eyes at the rogue.
"That is….reassuring." he conceded, albeit quite unwillingly.
"Fine, then," Alistair said, shouldering his pack, his shield and sword held at the ready. "Let's get a move on, shall we?" And, indicating for Adela to move on, the Warden stepped away from the two men. Shaking his head, Daveth followed after, while a still reluctant Jory numbly followed behind.
DA:O
The small band found themselves still in the Wilds as night fell. They had battled through several small bands of darkspawn and Alistair had to admit he was most impressed with the little elven archer. She knew how to follow orders and also to give them as necessary. She would fall back, bow and arrow ready, and send forth a steady stream of missiles as Alistair and Jory would meet the foes head on, Daveth sneaking around behind to put his daggers to work. The Warden was also impressed with Daveth's blade work as well as the rogue's courage, which surprised the young man greatly. At first glance, Daveth would not be someone that the word "courageous" would spring to mind.
Of the three recruits, Alistair found himself most disappointed with Jory. The man could wield a blade quite well, and could put a great deal of force out, and willingly took the brunt of most of the attacks. However, he always seemed on the verge of running once the battle was over, and he could never quite get beyond the fact that although he was a knight, and his fellow recruits a rogue and an elf, he was not the most qualified member of the team. That, added to his constant whining over his wife, was cause for Daveth to, several times, make a point of accosting the knight verbally with sneering, snide remarks. As the day went on, even Adela's even temperament was nearing its end.
Deciding it was unsafe to continue through the Wilds at night, the band set up camp. They had packed light, so none had a tent, but they did have bed rolls and means to start a fire. Alistair questioned whether it was wise to have one, but Adela figured that the darkspawn would find them regardless, and it was best to have the fire to hold back other predators. The other two recruits quickly agreed with the elf, and so a campfire was set up and lit. Unfortunately, there would not be any fresh meat to cook over the flames, and the group had to settle for iron rations.
After the camp was set, Adela had walked to the perimeter, staring out over the Wilds. Frowning, she realized she spotted the body of a man, laying within the deteriorated ruins of what must have been a gazebo. How many have died here recently? She wondered as she motioned to Alistair to come with her. Alistair followed quietly as the elf led him to the body. It did not appear that he had been there for very long. Frowning, shaking his head, the former Templar offered up a word of prayer for the man. Adela searched his body, finding a note. Opening it, her frown deepened. "Oh," she whispered, glancing back at the body, "the poor woman."
Wait? Woman? Alistair walked over to the woman's side. She handed him the note and went back to the body.
"To whoever finds this note,
"This is the last will and testament of Rigby the missionary, proud speaker of the Maker's word. I have come to the Wilds to speak the Chant, but I fear I will die here at the hands of the darkspawn.
"I leave all that I came with to my wife, Jetta. Should the reader of this note feel charitable, I have buried a sealed lockbox in our camp, nestled in a Tevinter ruin in the western reaches of the Wilds. It is my will that this lockbox finds my wife in Redcliffe, and that it is still sealed shut when it reaches her.
"To my wife and my son, I apologize that my work has taken me from you, but I know that I die in service to the Maker.
"Rigby"
Adela's blue eyes met Alistair's amber. "We have to find that lockbox and return it to her," she stated matter of factly, her eyes going back to the body. Alistair frowned. "Adela," he moved closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. He was sympathetic, but, "we have to find those treaties and get back to Duncan as quickly as possible."
But her eyes remained on the body of the missionary. He had risked so much to bring what he considered hope to the Wilderfolk. She shook her head, "Alistair. We can't give this man - or his son - a proper burial. His wife will be waiting in Redcliffe for word from either of them," she turned her penetrating gaze to Alistair, and he almost felt he could not deny her anything at that moment. "Waiting for word that will never come, unless we bring it to her."
Various wildlife chirped and howled throughout the Wilds. The pair stood over the body of a man whose only dream was to bring the Chant of Light to the barbarians of the Wilds. And Alistair found himself staring into the bluest eyes, now sapphire in the grief expressed for the wife of the dead man who lay before them. Adela placed a soft hand on his armored arm. "If this was me, laying here, my last thought of my family, wanting them to find peace, I would want someone to find the heart to do this one small task." She said the words so softly, so earnestly. Without a thought, not questioning it again, the junior Warden found himself nodding. His heart lifted at the appreciative smile that crossed Adela's face. "We'll search for the lockbox. And, if we find it, after the battle," he said, "I'll ask Duncan and we can both take it to Redcliffe."
"Thank you," she whispered, rising on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his scruffy cheek. With a final look at the body, she stepped away and went back to the campsite.
Alistair stood there for several moments longer, staring out into the Wilds, thanking the Maker for sending this strong hearted woman to the Wardens. As he stepped away, he amended that prayer. To him.
DA:O
The last genlock fell, its body littered with arrows. Jory lay on the ground, groaning, while Daveth went about looting the darkspawn bodies. Cursing lightly under her breath, Adela pulled out healing poultices and bandages and ran to the knight, shaking her head at his stupidity. When Jory fought, he seemed to have eyes only for his current opponent. What did he think tournament rules applied to real battle? She thought angrily as she tucked a poultice into a tear in his armor. The knight winced, trying to push her hands away. She slapped them away impatiently, binding the poultice in place with the bandages. That was the last of the bandages, most of them having gone to patching this very same knight up. She really could not believe Duncan recruited this man. "Next time I say 'duck'," she gave the man a shake, "I mean 'duck'!" Staring at her stupidly, Jory pushed himself to his feet, wobbling a bit.
Adela turned her attention from the man to the camp they found themselves in. According to Rigby's notes, this should be his camp. Now, where was that cache…she scouted around, scouring the ground. She glanced up briefly to see Alistair walking back into view. He had chased after a particularly nasty hurlock, but now returned without a mark on him, well, save for some blood. Ugh! Glancing down at herself she allowed a moment of utter revulsion to pass through. It's going to take a week of baths just to get the smell off her! Alistair raised a hand in greeting, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Shaking her head, she went back to searching out Rigby's lockbox. Ah…there it is. She noticed the rocks that created the border of the fire pit were arranged strangely. There was no way that this arrangement would allow for a good, strong fire. Pulling the rocks away, she was rewarded by the sight of a metal box. A strong sense of relief swept through her, and she pulled the box free, tucking it into her pack.
"What, you're not gonna take a look inside?" Daveth, walking up to her, asked. She shook her head. "No. The contents are for Rigby's wife and her alone." Adela stood up. The rogue stared at her a moment. Then, with a shrug went back to his looting. She shook her head, and then turned to find Alistair watching her with great interest.
A tired smile, and she said, "What? Too much darkspawn guts in my hair?" She meant it as a joke, even knowing she probably wasn't too far off the mark. Alistair grinned. "But you really can pull that look off quite well." With a "ha ha" Adela shifted her pack onto her shoulders. "Where to, oh guide of Warden-ness?" she asked of the junior Warden. Chuckling, Alistair pointed to the north. "I believe the ruins are that way," he glanced at the two men who now approached the pair. "We should be able to reach it in a couple of hours."
Taking a deep breath, hoping that this little excursion was soon over (she really wanted a bath), Adela nodded and took her customary position up front.
DA:O
Two hours later, after several more minor skirmishes and one fairly tough battle - facing off against their first magic-wielding darkspawn called an emissary, the group arrived at the ancient tower formerly controlled by the Grey Wardens. Alistair ordered them to spread out and search out the chest. Adela picked through fallen rubble and rotten beams, making her way deeper into the ruin. She could hear Jory and Alistair both clumping along and the only sign Daveth was nearby was the occasional call out he gave so everyone knew his position. She made her way into what appeared to be a courtyard. Glancing up, she saw that it wasn't a courtyard, but had once been a great hall. The ceiling had fallen in long ago, and only remnants remained, clinging to the support walls. She lightly skipped over the rubble and spotted what they had come here for. Lying against one of the walls was the ruined remains of a metal chest, engraved with the Grey Warden seal. Frowning, believing that the treaties had long since been destroyed, Adela called out to her companions, and then stepped toward the chest. Kneeling down, she carefully examined the ground before and around the chest, checking for any traps that may yet still be operational. Finding none, she turned her attention to the chest itself. Rubble from the ceiling lay upon the crushed cover of the once ornate chest. The lock had been smashed and hung useless by its mechanism. Pulling the granite off the chest, she pushed the lid up, revealing a chest full of rubble and dust, but nothing else. She rose as the others walked into the chamber. Turning to them she opened her mouth to let them know what happened when a sultry voice echoed from one of the chambers off the hall.
"Well, well, well," the voice said, and in walked a young woman, about Alistair's age, sauntering into the room. Raven haired, with eyes yellow as a predator, clothed in bits of rags, leather and feathers that barely covered her graceful form, she continued her slow, seductive walk. "What have we here?" she asked. "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones have been long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of... easy prey?"
She stopped in front of Adela. "Well? What say you?"
"Don't answer," Alistair had moved closer to Adela and whispered to her. "She looks Chasind and others may be nearby…"
"Oh, you fear barbarians would swoop down upon you!" she raised her arms dramatically.
"Yeeesss…." came Alistair's snide reply, "swooping…is…bad."
Adela frowned, turning back to the strange human woman, "We are not intruders. This tower belongs to the Grey Wardens."
"'Tis a tower no longer," the mysterious woman replied.
"She's a witch of the wilds, I tell you!" Daveth nervously broke in, his voice fairly humming with fear, "We shouldn't be talking to her! She'll turn us into toads"
"Witch of the Wilds?" she 'tsked' at the frightened man. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the elf. "You there, girl. Women do not frighten as easily as men. Tell me your name and I'll tell you mine."
Adela felt Alistair move closer. Although the woman seemed strange, she didn't get a strong feeling of danger from her. Taking a small step away from Alistair (she heard his sharp intake of breath when she did so), she replied. "My name is Adela." she offered a small smile.
The witch returned the smile, "And I am Morrigan." She paused. "Let me guess, you've come here in search of something…something which is here no longer?"
"Here no longer?" Alistair broke in, irritation evident in his voice. "You took them, didn't you," he accused. "You're some kind of…sneaky witch thief!"
"How very eloquent," the woman's archaic, clipped voice held a touch of amusement. "I wonder, how does one steal from dead men?"
"Very easily, it appears," Alistair's voice took on an authoritative quality, and he faced off against the woman, "Those treaties are Grey Warden property, and I demand you return them."
"I will not for 'twas not I who took them." She scoffed. "Invoke a name which means nothing here any longer. I will not be threatened."
"Who took them?" Adela asked, remaining calm, hoping Alistair would do the same.
"Now there's a sensible question," Morrigan chuckled lowly, "I like you."
"Careful," came a warning from Alistair, "First it's," and his voice went an octave higher, "'I like you'" and then lowered to normal, "and then 'zap!' Frog time."
Morrigan scowled at Alistair, clearly not liking the man. "'Twas my mother in fact," she replied to Adela's question, deciding to just ignore the man completely.
Adela frowned. Things were not going as they should. Finding Morrigan, a lone woman just wandering around while darkspawn were about was more than a little disconcerting and suspicious. Still, they needed those treaties. "Can you take us to her?" she asked. All three men behind her gasped, and Alistair this time grasped her arm. She shook her head at the man, her eyes never leaving Morrigan's strange yellow eyes.
The witch smiled and nodded. "Indeed I can. Follow me, if you will," and without another word, led them from the ruins and through a part of the wilderness they had not traversed. They soon crossed a small wooden foot bridge over a swampy part of the marsh, and into a clearing in which sat a small hut. An elderly woman with eyes similar to Morrigan's stood at the door, as though she had expected them.
"Mother, I bring before you four Grey Wardens…" Morrigan began, but was cut off by her mother. "I see them girl," she turned those strange eyes to the newcomers. "Just as I expected," she said in deep, breathy tones.
"What?" Alistair said, "Are we to believe you were expecting us?"
"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe." She chuckled. "Believe what you will," the old woman replied, smirking at the man. "For it is not I who decides. Open one's arms wide or close ones eyes tight, either way, one's a fool." Her attention shifted to Adela, her eyes brightening with interest. "And, you. Does your elven mind tell you something else?" The old witch watched the girl with great interest. Trepidation came over her. Was she being tested? "I'm not sure what to believe," she answered honestly. Her answer apparently pleased the old woman for she cackled with pleasure. "Now there's an answer that indicates more wisdom then it implies. Be always aware, or is it oblivious," she looked down at her shoes. "I can never remember." she muttered that last part.
Alistair smirked, whispering to Adela, "Sooo…this is a dreaded witch of the wilds?" Adela shrugged one shoulder, still not believing they were even having this conversation.
"Witch of the Wilds?" the old woman cackled. "Morrigan must have told you that! She's always loved old tales. Oh! How she dances under the moon!" she cackled some more. Morrigan merely placed a hand on her forehead, as though trying to forestall a headache. "They did not come to hear your wild tales, Mother."
"True. They came for their treaties. And, before you start barking," she said clearly as she handed over the documents to Adela, "I have kept these safe."
"You…you kept them safe?" Alistair just couldn't believe it.
"Of course. And, tell your fellow Grey Wardens that this Blight is more than they realize." Sagely spoken, the woman seemed quite pleased with herself.
"More than they realize?" Adela asked, "How?"
The old woman laughed, ""Either the threat is more or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing!" she cackled.
With a glance to Alistair, Adela replied, "Thank you for keeping safe the treaties and the information regarding the Blight."
"Such manners! And always in the last place you look... like stockings!" Again, she looked down at her feet - actually her stockings.
"Now is time for you to leave," Morrigan broke in, in hopes of forestalling any further nonsense from her mother.
"Don't be rude, girl," the old woman admonished. "These are your guests."
"Oh," Morrigan sulked. "Very well." She glared at the group. "Follow me." and reluctantly guided the four from the clearing and back to where they had entered the Wilds. Turning to thank Morrigan, Adela was acknowledged with a slight scoff, a toss of a raven haired head, and then Morrigan just walked off. Daveth, having gotten over his initial fright, gave a whistle of appreciation to the woman's swaying hips. "What?" he asked when he spotted Jory and Alistair glaring at him. "She may be a witch, but, boy, those are some fine hips!". Still frowning, Alistair led the recruits from the wilderness and back to camp.