Recruitment Speech

So, the Mad Hermit of Brecilian Forest is now living within your walls. Wonderful. In some ways, you appreciate what Xandar was trying to do, but at the same time you cannot help but feel that he is only causing you trouble. The hermit still refuses to tell you his name, for example.

"Sir." Anneth comes in with a salute. "Grey Warden Duncan is here to see you."

"Is he now?" You ask thoughtfully. "Alistair too I assume?"

"No sir." Anneth shakes her head. "He's alone."

"How unusual." You muse. "Very well. I will meet him."

"Sir." Anneth salutes. "Are we still meeting later?"

"Yes." You state. "There is a project I want your input on."

Duncan is dressed for battle. His armour is engraved with what might be wind or perhaps are simply abstract patterns. Over his shoulders the hilts of two swords can be seen, one long the other short.

You would criticise him for the needless hostility such garb engenders, were it not for the hypocrisy of doing so. Still, you cannot help but think that he is missing a chance to put people at ease with his dress.

"Lord Russandol…" Duncan pauses. "Do you mind if I call you Nelyafinwë?"

"You may refer to me by whichever name you wish." You reply placidly.

"Thank you, I wasn't sure what with the formality of your introduction." Duncan says, with a nod of his head.

"My name is not as yours are. None of them are a 'family' name as the nobles of Ferelden bear." You state calmly. "Each may be used, as the one who speaks deems appropriate. However, I doubt that you came here to discuss naming conventions."

"Yes. Though I must admit to some curiosity." The dark skinned man smiles. "I have spent much of my life travelling, and it is hard to not become interested in the cultures one passes."

"Perhaps, once business is concluded, I could indulge your curiosity." You reply. "However, I am busy, and cannot simply take time out of my day for idle chatter."

"Yes, I suppose I should come to the point." Duncan says, stroking his beard. "I don't suppose I can convince you to change your mind about joining the Grey Wardens?"

"No." You answer flatly.

"I understand your hesitation, especially given what Avernus' research revealed, however the Grey Wardens are a noble calling, and vital to stopping the Blight." Duncan argues, with more passion than you expected from the usually reserved man. "Yes, it is a sacrifice, but it is a noble one, done for the betterment of all who live. Surely you, of all people, understand how important it is that the Blight is defeated."

You shake your head. "Even if I was able to accept, which I am not, I would be unable to. The Taint has a strange effect upon my body, and I doubt you would like the results of using enough that it actually affected me."

Duncan looks surprisingly understanding after the first line. "Would you be willing to share your own order's methods? Are they effective against Archdemons?"

"I do not belong to any order, save that of the princes of the Noldor, and that is not what you speak of." You state firmly. "The effects had by the Blight upon me are those that apply to all the quendi."

Duncan gives you a long, considering look. You meet it, hand on the table, muscles forcibly loosed. This conversation has not devolved into threats, yet, but you are ready if it does. Finally, Duncan sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

"I understand." He sighs again. "Do you have any objections to me asking the people who work for you?"

A wicked thought of throwing Maeglin under the dragon by recommending him to Duncan sneaks into your head. You discard it almost immediately, Maeglin does not deserve to be forcibly injected with Taint, no elda does.

From there you consider whether to object to Duncan's request or not. On the one hand, there is no reason to refuse out of hand. The Blight is coming and you refuse to be one of the stubborn princes that refuse to acknowledge the only viable solution. This is doubly true if it is truly impossible to end a Blight without a Warden.

Yet, you are far from comfortable with the whole process of becoming a Warden. Four Blights would argue in their favour, but five hundred years of experience argues that nothing good comes from Morgoth. That attempting to use his own power against him is a road to defeat.

Then there are those who you would spare the burden. Xandar, for example, would likely say yes, driven by ideals and youthful optimism. Merrill is less likely, yet she might be leant on. Perhaps not, you could be underestimating her strength of will.

At length, you reluctantly speak. "I have no objection in principle. However, I would ask that you refrain from spending your efforts on my students and guards. My students I must protect, and the fate of a Warden, though honourable, is a heavy one. My warriors are few in number, and I cannot spare them."

Duncan grimaces. "While I appreciate the struggles you face, we are short on time. Surely you can spare one or two, even assuming I can convince them to join. Will you not let me try at least?"

You shake your head. "My students are non-negotiable. If they choose to join once they depart my tutelage, that is their choice, until then they will not. As for my warriors, I have fifty at best, and even then I must press myself and my students into service.

"For a lord without a formal duty or land grant, that is an impressive number." Duncan offers.

"Yet, in the face of the Blight it is nothing." You observe. "I cannot spare them, not without endangering the hundred non-combatants that dwell here, or those who live in Gladesville."

Duncan's hand twitches, hovering somewhere between his side and his belt pouch.

"The Grey Wardens can conscript people, should it prove necessary." He says neutrally.

"Are you threatening me? Or those under my protection?" You ask, equally neutrally.

The hand falls back to his side. "No. No, I am not."

"Very well, then are my terms agreeable?" You ask.

Duncan shakes his head. "No. But I fear I have no choice."

"Then I hope you will not take offence if I escort you around?" You ask.

Duncan closes his eyes for a few moments. "Doing so might intimidate your staff into refusing."

You shrug. "Or they might refuse you as they think you are trying to, I believe the word is 'poach' them."

Duncan sighs. "Very well."

Contrary to what Duncan expects, you are not trying to prevent anyone leaving. Unfortunately, as he predicted, your mere presence is enough to stop some of those who were clearly thinking about it.

None of the elves are interested. Which is not a surprise, given the lives they have led. His closest success comes with Wesley. When asked if he wishes to join the Grey Wardens, he looks wistful, clearly yearning for adventure.

Then Crowsfoot speaks up. "Farm boy, do not leave me."

The farmer turns back to his beloved and walks up to her. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her deeply.

"As you wish." He whispers.

That is the closest Duncan comes to success. Few of those who are interested are willing to brave the danger, and the fact that most of the staff know the Blight is coming means few are interested to begin with. To his credit the Grey Warden does not grow visibly frustrated.

Eventually the two of you return to your study.

Duncan breathes in sharply then states. "You know we are on the same side."

"I do." You agree.

"Grey Wardens are necessary to end the Blight." Duncan continues. "You know this too."

"I do not know it for certain, but nor do I have the evidence to disagree, so I do not contest the claim." You reply.

"Then why are you insisting on impeding my recruitment efforts?" Duncan asks reasonably.

"Do you believe you are the only person who foresaw this Blight?" You ask. "I selected these warriors, equipped them and trained them to face the darkness. Now you have come to me and demanded I surrender them to a certain death."

Duncan takes several long breaths then says, "I understand, it's asking a lot. But we need more Grey Wardens if we are to end the Blight. Their ability to sense the Darkspawn, resistance to corruption and the unique ability to slay Archdemons will be of paramount importance."

"At the completely insignificant cost of dooming themselves to join the forces of the enemy unless they die before then." You observe dryly.

"I will not deny that it is a sacrifice." Duncan allows. "But do warriors not lay down their lives for each other already? Have you not known someone you would trade your own life for to ensure their safety? It is a sacrifice, but a noble one. And one I have made myself."

You pause a moment. It is a surprisingly good point, if admittedly one that does not address your true concerns. Still, you will grant that you are perhaps too suspicious of one who has led the way in the actions he seeks to encourage. However, it changes nothing.

"I will not dispute that you have demonstrated more fortitude than many in your position." You state. "Nor will I denigrate the sacrifice of those who choose your path. Yet, I cannot allow you to take from me the warriors I have trained. I will have need of them here, and I cannot ask your order to defend the forest in their place."

Duncan sighs. "I understand. But ending the Blight sooner will keep everyone safer. The more Wardens we have the safer everyone will be."

"Perhaps you are right." You say. "Perhaps in days to come I will look back upon this decision and curse myself as a fool. Yet, here where I sit, I cannot justify allowing my warriors to depart. Nor will I allow my students, whom I am sworn to defend, to place themselves in a position of certain death."

Duncan's face falls slightly, but he presses on. "And the others? Why do you step in to prevent me recruiting them?"

"It may be difficult to believe but I did not accompany you to prevent your success." You inform the Warden. "It was potentially a side effect, however in truth I feared that they might be pressured or tricked into agreeing."

Duncan's face twists in a mixture of emotions. "I would not force anyone into anything. I had no plans to conscript anyone."

"I had no way to be certain, and more reason than most to distrust the word of a human." You explain without heat. "Further, for those of us with power it is easy to forget what it is to be powerless. One does not need to draw a sword for it to be a threat."

Duncan is good at concealing his emotions for a human, or perhaps he is naturally slow to stir, however you can see the disappointment and resignation on his face as clear as day.

He sighs once more, then says, "Well, I had best be off. I have a meeting in Orzamar, to try and get the current king to send some help against the Blight."

"There is a shortcut to the Deep Roads nearby." You offer. "It is a dangerous way but it may speed your journey if you believe you can manage it. I might provide escort if necessary."

Duncan looks surprised, but shakes his head after a few moments' thought. "No thank you. Dwarves are rather set in their ways. It is best to come in the manner they expect. I, appreciate, the offer."

"Very well. If you change your mind, let me know." You stand, extending a hand. "I wish to stress that this incident does not indicate any distaste for your order. Nor do I wish any undue animosity between us."

Slowly, Duncan extends his own hand to grasp yours. "We can ill afford such things with the Blight on our doorstep. I hope to see you on the field, and will do all I can to end it."

"I hope you find recruits worthy of legend." You reply.

You depart on tolerable terms. You do not doubt that Duncan does not think of you as an ally per se, but you do not think he is your enemy, nor that he believes you his. It is perhaps the best you could hope for.

Choosing the Battlefield

When Duncan has departed, you find Ranger.

"Kid. Wasn't expectin' ya today. What can I do for ya?" He asks.

For a moment you stand in the door, trying to understand what you are seeing. Long experience tells you that it is better not to ask.

"Ranger…" No, you cannot do it, your curiosity overwhelms you. "Why are you dangling Witherfang out a window on a stick?"

Ranger blinks twice looking from you to the dog. "Ah. I guess it looks pretty weird from the outside. It's not that high, we're trainin' grip strength."

You take a long calming breath. "If Yavana's servants come to murder you for animal cruelty I will neither stop them nor hide you."

"Ya know what? Fair." Ranger grunts, putting his pet down. "What can I do for ya."

"I had hoped to prevail upon your expertise in matters of fieldcraft for a project." You explain briefly. "If you have time?"

"Sure. Gimme a turn[1]." Ranger says with a single shoulder shrug.

So it came to pass that in the final week of the twenty ninth year of the age of the dragon, that Maedhros the Tall set out to determine where he might fight the servants of Morgoth. He called to him all his scouts and guides, including his friend Ranger, the master of hunts in his lands. There, in the heart of the forest, he took counsel with them.

"My project is as follows, with the Blight imminent I deem it wise to have a detailed understanding of this forest in which we dwell." You tell your rangers, and Ranger. "Thus, I think the time has come to map the forest to the best of our abilities."

Anneth holds her hand up in the air with an expectant expression.

"Am I to assume you have a question?" You ask.

"Uh, yes. Well, more a comment?" Anneth says, obviously unbalanced by your response.

"Speak." You command.

"I don't know if it's a good idea to pull us off our patrols." She says hesitantly. "I mean, it's been quiet these last few weeks, but I'm not sure how long that will last. I mean, we only dodged disaster by a hair's breadth the last time the Dalish decided to attack us out of nowhere. What if it happens again?"

"A valid concern, and one I have given great thought to before I called you here." You reassure the officer. "Right now, what we are going to do is to pool our existing knowledge to make a foundation for the map we will create. Then we shall divide the forest up according to the design I have prepared."

"Right. Sorry, I just wanted to be sure you know." Anneth smiles nervously.

"Do not apologise." You state. "Such concerns are your duty, and in raising them you have performed to the expectations I have of you. I continue to be pleased with your performance."

With Anneth reassured, the group begins to construct the map. After a few additions by the others, you soon take over sole responsibility of committing the details to parchment. This map focuses on the forest, but it soon proves important to note some of the more important details, like the orientation. It is not something you have personally much experience with, but some things are obvious when trying to work as a group.

The area around Endataurëo is most easily mapped. Everyone in the room has travelled it extensively, and the road network provides a useful scaling tool. Though, even with this advantage you have to start over once or twice when you realise you cannot fit the whole forest onto it.

However, such easy work does not last long and all too soon you are explaining your design to your scouts.

You turn your options over in your mind. First, you must decide how many shall be searching. It may seem strange to begin there, but you cannot lay plans to any kind of acceptable standard without knowing how many are searching.

Obviously, more cartographers will finish the map faster, on the other hand, you very much do not want to strip your land of its defences. Therein lies the crucial contention. You and Ranger could search alone, and it would likely take multiple weeks, or you could call up your rangers to hopefully finish this week.

You waver between the two options, torn between the urgency of the oncoming Blight and your lingering suspicions of Lanaya's intentions. On the one hand, future danger, on the other a very much present danger.

In the end it is the words of Teyrn Loghaine that sway you. Six weeks he had said, even accounting for mustering and the like you should have time before you need this map. Hopefully you do not prove to be as blind in this matter as you did in the War of the Jewels.

"Anneth, thank you for your assistance." You state. "You and your men are dismissed. Go back to your duties."

"Sir." The rangers salute and turn to leave.

"So it's you and me then kid." Ranger says with a grin, at his side Witherfang barks proudly. "Yeah, and Witherfang too."

"Indeed." You state calmly, rapidly sketching a pair of maps on new paper. "We shall each take one of these, and use it as a basis for further mapping. While you do so, I encourage you to take notes and measurements to ensure the highest degree of accuracy possible."

Ranger accepts the bundle of papers you pass him. "Sure. Not my first time throwin' one of these together. First time doin' it on this scale mind, but I've sketched game trails and the like."

"I am glad to hear it." You say, standing. "Then I shall head north from here, you south. I leave it to your judgement how best to cover the whole width of the forest."

"Race ya." Ranger grins.

For all Ranger's confidence, he quickly finds the whole situation more challenging than he expected. It's one thing to learn the routes and paths of the forest himself, it is quite another to do that while mapping down the trails he takes.

By far and away the worst of it is juggling the paper he's carrying. Often he'll find himself stopping to draw the paths he's found only to realise he doesn't remember the trail. Thus, he must turn back and seek it out, only to realise that the path back was filled with branches and leaves that sought to destroy his limited supply of paper.

It is all immensely frustrating, only made more so by the realisation that the animal trails he used to travel the forest would be useless on a map, as they wandered with some frequency. Not enough that he could not rely on them or swiftly find them again once lost, but enough that they would be misleading to someone not familiar with the territory.

Ranger sighs in annoyance. He's going to have to change the way he approaches this whole affair, and he's already burned most of the first day.

He hopes the kid is having a better time of it.

Ungweliente's get are hardier than you gave them credit for. You had thought that with the purging of the darkness in the land, they would have been driven out with it. However, here you stand amidst a great number of their foul spawn, wondering where exactly you went wrong.

There had been no webs to warn you of the territory you were wandering into. You had merely been walking through a thick clump of trees when they descended upon you.

Now that you look upon their corpses, you reflect that they are likely juvenile in nature. Their fangs too short to pierce mail, and their spinners unable to spin web. That would explain the ease of your victory and the lack of warning.

Yet you find no comfort in the revelation, for where there are children there must be a mother. Unless you are willing to allow this to go unaddressed you will need to divert your attention from scouting to track it down. There goes much of your week to no benefit.

Perhaps an alternate strategy might be pursued.

For a long moment you weigh your options. The spiders must die, for practical reasons alone you cannot let them reestablish themselves. The only real question is if you should do it yourself.

On the one hand, you have the experience and the might. Few indeed could withstand you, and you are already in the area. On the other hand, the whole point of recruiting people was to free yourself from the burden of doing everything yourself. Further, some experience is a good idea, to help cement your warriors training.

Of course, going all the way back to Endataurëo would take up too much time. Fortunately, the Chasind are much closer, and also in dire need of some experience.

Yes. You will find the Chasind and have them hunt the spiders while you continue to try and map the forest.

Velkind does not like the fancy man. The Brightstar had sent him, and he is a skilled combatant, but everything about him screams frivolous northerner. Were it not for the fact that he had been repeatedly humiliated when challenging the seemingly flippant man, he'd probably do so now.

The Brightstar had defeated him in little more than two moves.

His thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of their subject. The Brightstar himself rides upon that great black beast. His words with the teacher are too fast for even his improved grasp of the tongue of the iron men to follow. He picks up parts, enough to know that he was asking to lead them somewhere.

It seems strange to him to ask a subordinate for permission for anything, but perhaps this was some bizarre custom of the men of iron. Or the stars. He does not know if stars had chiefs the way most humans did.

"Warriors of the Chasind!" The Brightsar calls, voice loud but words slow. "Are you ready for war?"

Velkind leads his comrades in roaring back.

"To the north of here, the dread children of the dark spider gather!" The Brightstar continues. "Foul spiders of hideous size seek to take back the land that was freed of them. Your task is to see to their destruction!"

More roars of approval.

"I shall not tell you how to disperse yourself, nor shall Cocycus lead you!" The Brightstar finishes. "This is your task, and your test! I trust you shall rise to the occasion and slaughter all those who would defile this beautiful land!"

Velkind's grin is savage as the Bear Claw's warcry fills the sky.

Command issues rear their head in the Brightstar's absence. Perhaps not as strongly as they once had, he had accepted that they were at peace with the Morning Stars, but he did not wish to follow them. He is chief, they are not.

In the end, the two groups split up and the whole affair becomes a somewhat glorified hunt. For long hours they slowly scout the north parts of the forest, all on edge, yet never encountering the foe.

Then suddenly Giran blunders into a web and brings the entire forest down on top of them.

In times past this would have been the end, but this new land has come with new benefits. Iron tipped javelins fly, keeping many of the biggest spiders at bay. Steel swords cut webs far faster than bronze would. Though their armour was not much improved, the fact that everyone has a shield keeps injuries to a minimum.

That was not to say that nobody is hurt, but far fewer were than Velkind had expected. For his part the world narrows to him, his sword and shield. It is only due to extensive training beside them that he did not accidentally impede his guards.

In the end they slew all twenty of the spiders that ambushed them and only took seven injuries. Only one of those is any serious danger, but they are slowed by the need to treat the venom.

In hindsight, Velkind should have done more, should have directed the battle. He had simply been too busy surviving to even think of it. He still has a long way to go. When they eventually meet the other groups they find this was a common experience.

He wonders what Brightstar would have done, were he here.

With the spiders distracted, you should be making excellent time in scouting. This does not happen, and you waste much time getting lost. You go to bed the evening after you sent the Chasind out thoroughly frustrated with yourself.

Then, in the night, you dream of an elf maid of Thedas.

When you wake the next morning you see something move in the trees, and think you hear distant singing. Curious but wary of ambush, you pursue. The shadow leads you on a merry chase for nearly an hour, then slips between two trees that grow so close together it is almost impossible to enter.

Once you too pass through them you find, hidden in a thicket otherwise impossible to enter a village. The houses stand empty and there is an eerie feeling to the place.

Despite your curiosity, you have a task to do and this thicket serves as a navigational aid, letting you scout the north of the forest with ease.

Buying and Selling

Delora was NOT avoiding Martin.

It is very important to stress that, while she hides, stands, stands behind a conveniently placed pillar and waits for him to leave. Then she can talk to Anneth where he wouldn't be able to crow about being right. Listening to the woman is going to be bad enough.

Martin frowns and looks around. Urrrgh! He's looking for her, she knows he is. The dumb, stupid, stupid-face probably knows what her mother said. Old people are terrible gossips.

Delora buries her red face into her hands. The whole Alienage probably knows by now too. Why? Why is this her life?

Martin is still looking around for her. Come on, the cart's loaded, just go!

He's talking to one of those workers that are still hanging around despite having finished their work now. She tries to eavesdrop on the conversation, but they're too far away. Wait! Now the worker is walking off, he kind of looks like he's looking for something…

Oh that stupid man! She's a grown elf, she does not need to be fetched like a disobedient child! Well, she wasn't going to stand for this.

Delora walks out from behind the Pillar and past Martin. "I'm going to chat with Anneth. Don't wait for me!"

She slams the door to Anneth's office/storeroom/random room she called dibs on too loud to hear Martin's reply.

Anneth smiles at the elf as she enters. "Delora. What can I do for you?"

"I uh, well thing is." Delora chews her lip. "I was talking to my ma, just about my week, and I'm not scared you understand, but she was worried. She insisted that I should probably get an escort. Just in case that Maeglin fellow tries anything."

"Of course." The soldier replies. "I'll chat to the infantry, we can have say two people ride with you? Will the cart take that?"

"Uh, maybe?" Delora says.

"Right, come on, let's go have a look at it. If not I can probably pull some men off patrol." Anneth stands, walking towards the door.

"Yeah. Uh, thanks." The elf says, hurrying along beside the human. "I appreciate you taking the time."

"It is no trouble." Anneth states firmly. "It is my duty to protect the people who dwell here, and it is my honour to be trusted with it."

Delora doesn't respond. Truth be told, she'd felt embarrassed to have to ask, and part of her was still bracing for the laughter and the 'I told you so's.

"Yeah, but like, I said that I didn't need your help, so I thought…" The elf trails off, not sure what she wants to say and regretting that she even decided to speak.

Anneth shrugs. "The offer was made and it was your right to refuse. Truthfully, I've been wondering if it's right to let you two off without guards for a while now. You seemed to prefer it though, so I didn't want to lean on you too heavily… I guess what I'm saying is, the offer's open anytime."

"Yeah, uh, thanks." The elf merchant says quietly.

She ends up with a man in armour riding with her and two horseback mounted warriors escorting her.

Yet another week passes and she still hasn't seen Maeglin again. It's, well it's something. She prefers it to having to deal with him constantly. The guards seem pretty chill about the whole thing, not minding the fact that there's pretty much nothing going on.

Unfortunately she now has a much more unpleasant task ahead of her. She's managed to avoid him for most of the week, but now she needs to speak to him. She might, maybe, owe him an apology for blowing up at him, but she also needs to let him know that she's picked up the metal.

She finds him quickly and waits until he's alone to speak.

"Hey. Got that metal." She tells him.

"Good. Good. Did you have any trouble?" Martin replies.

"No." She answers.

For several long minutes there is silence. Delora fidgets in place for a moment, then forces her hands to still. Martin chews his lip and coughs awkwardly. Eventually Delora turns to leave.

"Uh, Delora?" Martin says. "I'm sorry if what I said came across as condescending. I only want you to be safe."

"It's fine." Delora mutters to the floor. "I probably shouldn't have snapped at you either."

"No worries." Martin replies. "Just stay safe, ok?"

"Sure." Delora says.

[1] A turn of the glass. Medieval Thedesian equivalent of 'give me a tick'