The Blight - IC

[TaintedKiss]

OOC: http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...e-Blight/page1

[[ooc: I've gone against my own rules and God-Modded Alistair and Morrigan in this post just to get us started. I promise it'll be the only time I do it, I just wanted to get something up. Most of the conversation is taken directly from in-game for this post because I'm still not feeling 100% today and that lazy voice in my head insisted that this was the best option. Anyway, feel free to jump in anyway you like and let's get this thing started ]]

Starter:

Lydia

"Well, there it is. Lothering. Pretty as a painting," Alistair murmured as we stepped up over the last hill of the Kokari Wilds and could see the gates of the village, below. It was

a relief to finally be free from the tall, looming trees and the ruined remains of the few structures in the Wilds. There was on unsettling aura to the area and Lydia had felt as though there were constantly a set of eyes on the party, though they had seen little in the way life save for the odd wolf. She'd been on edge, constantly scanning the area around them and straining her ears expectantly for some sound that would alert her to any unwanted presence. Morrigan, in contrast, had seemed at ease; used to her surroundings and seemingly unaffected by the ominous feelings that Lydia was experiencing. The town was pretty; all green fields and farmlands. Lydia didn't know a lot about Lothering, but recalled that it supplied goods to Redcliff and the surface dwarves outside of Orzammar.

"Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?" Morrigan spoke up, turning her gaze on Alistair.

He came to a stop, his arms crossing over his chest and Morrigan slowed too, watching him in amusement. Lydia, on the other hand, sighed and continued walking. She was eager to be within the village now and didn't want to waste anymore time by listening to the two of them bicker. Hunter trotted along next to her and she scratched behind his ears. She didn't have far to reach; the head of her Mabari was above her waist and he was as stocky as he was tall.

"Is my being upset so hard to understand? Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?" Alistair demanded behind her. Lydia

was torn between letting them fight it out and telling Morrigan to be more sympathetic. After all, she knew exactly how he felt. She had also lost everyone close to her and it was not an easy burden to bear. She pushed away thoughts of her family before they could evolve into something darker and focused instead of the soft padding of her leather boots on the flagstones beneath her feet.

"Before or after I stopped laughing?" Morrigan asked, and when Lydia slowed her pace and turned to face them she could see no hint of either remorse or laughter on her face.

Morrigan's relationship with her mother seemed...strange. She appeared somewhat emotionally disconnected from her in a way that was unusual to the rogue. Though, perhaps she would be too if her mother were centuries old and a very powerful witch. One that could save two people from a tower filled with darkspawn. She hadn't ever told them how she'd done that...

"Riiiight, very creepy. Forget I asked," Alistair muttered, starting forward again with a roll of his dark eyes. Lydia was thankful when Morrigan said no more for the moment and

the two women picked up pace beside him once more. Lydia bit down on her bottom lip for a moment; surveying Alistair's expression and wondering if perhaps he wanted to talk about what had happened in Ostagar. They hadn't had much of a chance as of yet.

"You have been very quiet, Alistair," she said gently, not wanting to upset him further. He looked down, avoiding her gaze in preference for his boots while he answered.

"Yes. I know. I was just...thinking," he responded quietly and I opened my mouth to offer him some words of comfort, only to be cut off.

"No wonder it took so long, then," Morrigan piped up; her mood seemingly lifting while Alistair's dropped. She really was not helping. Then again, Lydia imagined it was never

her intention to help where it didn't suit her. Hunter whined, sensing the tension in the air, and Alistair's expression hardened once more as he rounded on her.

"Oh, I get it. This is the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend your entire life," Alistair shot back, his voice laced with sarcasm as he glowered

at the alleged Witch of the Wilds. Lydia resisted the desire to cover her ears with her hands and hum the Chant of Light.

"I can be friendly when I desire to," Morrigan objected, though there was still a smile in her voice. Clearly she was enjoying this. "Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not

make it so."

"Enough. Both of you," Lydia scolded, finally. I will throw myself to the darkspawn if they continued on like this for the rest of our time travelling together, she thought,

suppressing the heavy sigh that would most likely only serve to irritate them more. "We're here now so let us just find somewhere that we can have a hot meal. I wish we'd stayed for some of Flemeth's stew," she tacked on, her tone tinged with regret now that she realized how hungry she was.

"My stew," Morrigan corrected. "I was the one who prepared it."

Alistair perked up a little at that and didn't look so much like he'd like to feed Morrigan to an ogre.

"Oh, you can cook?" he asked with obvious interest and Morrigan seemed reluctant to answer. She narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head slightly to one side.

"I...can cook, yes," she allowed, finally, and Hunter barked happily in response. He bounded over to the apostate and pressed his nose against Morrigan's hand, wanting to make

friends. Lydia, too, was pleased to learn this about her companion. Having grown up within a noble family she had never had to prepare food for herself before. As a result, her cooking skills were close to non-existent.

"Good, you can substitute for Alistair," Lyd teased, nudging him with her shoulder and then wincing when the action reminded her of her recent wound. While Flemeth had all

but completely healed her skin where the arrows had shot through, it still ached dully on the inside; especially when she knocked it. She would have to build up her shoulder muscles again if she was going to use her bow. There was no time for her to be weak and useless.

"Right, my cooking will kill us. That's all I meant," Alistair agreed with a nod, not so hostile towards Morrigan now that he'd learned this new tidbit about her, but she still didn't

look all that impressed.

"I also know of at least fifteen different poisons that grow right outside of this village. Not that I would suggest 'tis at all related to cooking." She offered them a smile then and

for a moment Lydia thought she really might be planning on poisoning them. She shared a brief worried glance with her fellow Grey Warden, before speaking once more.

"Alright," Lydia began, a little unsure. "Let us just buy ourselves a meal, for today. There should be a tavern, nearby. I feel like I'm starving to death," She grumbled, resting a

hand over the midsection of her leather armour while her stomach rumbled in response to the mention of food. She had never felt such desperate hunger as she did in that moment and she was sure that she would die if they didn't hurry A result of the taint? she wondered, absentmindedly.

Lothering was much more populated than Lydia imagined it would normally be. What with everyone was fleeing from the Blight, Lothering provided the first of many stops where

people could rest and rebuild their supplies. Many escapees had set up tents just outside of the village gates - most likely unable to get a room within the village due to lack of space or coin. The guards, who looked like they'd rather be doing anything else, were urging everyone to move on before the darkspawn invaded and warned those entering the gates that both the Chantry and the Tavern were incredibly full as it was. Perhaps they wouldn't get a meal, after all. At Lydia's insisting they stopped a farmer, regardless, and asked him to point them in the direction of the tavern.

"You know," he grumbled impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brows at them. "I'm not here just to give directions to every refugee that passes by."

"We're not refugees," Lydia assured him, inclining her head towards Alistair. "We're Grey Wardens."

She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, really. Recognition. Respect, perhaps. The Grey Wardens had always been regarded highly throughout Ferelden and the rest of

Thedas. Instead, the farmer looked disgusted.

"Then you best clear out," he spat, glancing towards the guards at the gate before returning his disapproving gaze on the group. "We're loyal to the King here and word from

the North is that the Wardens betrayed King Cailan. Teyrn Loghain has a bounty on any who survived."

[[ooc: Dun dun duuun. I realized after I'd finished typing this up that it would most likely have taken several days (correct me if I'm wrong) for them to travel from Flemeth's hut to Lothering but for the sake of my sanity can we pretend it only took them the best part of a day? I've got to go for a bit and I don't have time to rewrite. Sorry for my clumsiness! The indent button also doesn't like me. The lines look fine when I preview the post but when it actually saves it comes out strange. I'll fix it later.]]

[Aydan Tenaebra]

Delicately pointed ears picked up the words Grey Wardens and the figure clothed in hooded robes of black with blue stitching and embroidery took a few more steps forward and stopped. The Elf stood discreetly to the side a short distance away and listened. She held back a snort and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Yes, that makes sense. My comrades and I betrayed the king, lets announce who we are where ever we go! I think that farmer's a bit twisted in the head, that or Grey Wardens are dumber than they've been made out to be. All the same.... Wardens.... Chezaeri shook her head. Taking a better grip on her rune-carved staff, she turned and moved a few steps back to the small group by the farmer.

Face hidden beneath her raised hood, she studied each of them in turn before locking on the farmer, "I can't quite decide if you're stupid or just an ill-tempered old man who needs a nap. Either you believe the Grey Wardens are traitors and you quietly hand them over in return for a part of a bounty or a piece of glory without a huge struggle, or you don't believe they are and you politely tell them they should leave, but a combination of those actions only sets you up for failure, my friend. Why don't you go back to your chores and I'll take over from here since you can't seem to play nicely?" She did not wait for an answer from him before she turned her back. To the trio of travelers and Mabari hound she gave a polite nod. She didn't often put herself in a position to deal with strangers, but if they really were Grey Wardens then they would be in the fight against the Blight and that was where her interests lay. She desired to learn how to combat the darkspawn more efficiently and effectively.

"My name is Chezaeri Merula. We should probably move from here quickly, if what he was saying is true. I'd say it's possible I'm not the only one that over heard, and just as possible than someone else may not have as much of a... pleasant interest in your profession, Grey Wardens." She said quietly and gestured in the direction of the main area of town. "If we can manage to blend in it will buy you time for a meal and some rest, but I don't recommend you stay here long."

Cheza slid her hood from her head, allowing her black hair to spill down to her mid back in waves and her brilliant blue eyes to study them directly. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and waited patiently for any of their responses. She didn't offer a smile but her expression still held a soft sincerity beneath her cool tones. Absently, the fingers of her free hand traced some of the runes on her staff. Her gaze traveled back to the hound and she couldn't resist slipping a hand in to her robe pocket and pulling out some left over meat from her earlier meal. She gives a questioning look to the group before offering it to the hound.

[Gunther]

"When you seek out to betray someone, it is important that you cover up all loose ends."

"... the Wardens betrayed King Cailan. Teyrn Loghain has a bounty on any who survived." Alistair went from calmly seeking his next meal to instant rage with those words uttered. The words hung in the air like some dark storm cloud about to unleash its fury upon the land. "Are you mad, man!?" Alistair yelled at the farmer. "Wardens betrayed the King!? What sort of visceral rubbish is this?! Who's spewing such vile lies. I am a Grey Warden. The two of us were with King Cailen and the other Wardens at Ostagar," pointing toward Lydia. "We fought the blight. I watched in horror as the beast picked up our dear beloved King and squeeze him as if he were a cursed insect," pausing to let that image sink in. "Then cast him to the ground. I watched Duncan, the finest Grey Warden who ever lived jump onto the beast's chest and slay him, only to succumb to his previous injuries. He gave no concern to his own life, only that of the King, just as every other Grey Warden present at Ostagar! If you are looking for traitor, I would susggest you start looking where the atroscious lies are coming from."

"The King had a pre-arranged signal with his uncle, Loghain Mac Tir. Loghain was supposed to counterattack the blight once the tower signal fires were lit. The fires were lit, I guarantee you that my good man. But did Loghain or any of his men charge into that boiling cauldron of carnage at Ostagar!? With King Cailen dying, his body broken upon the ground and the Grey Wardens' blood spilling, seeping into the soil, Loghain turned tail and left! He left the King and the Grey Wardens to die at Ostagar! Be a wise old fool and stop spreading this uniformed bilge like your fertilizing your crops. The Wardens betraying the king?! Rubbish! It is Loghain who betrayed the king!!"

Alistair was furious. He knew the farmer was only passing on whatever rumor Loghain was spreading about what happened. There is no way anyone but Loghain and those loyal to Loghain would know what happened, what really happened; except of course Lydia, Flemeth and himself. He stepped away from the conversation. He wanted to weep for his friends, for his family. Alistair walked away and knelt behind a tree, where he did indeed weep for the dead. 'Bugger off, Morrigan, I don't need your condescension, you heartless witch,' Alistair thought as he considered the scene he just left. 'But why would Loghain betray the king?'

[Atri]

Morrigan raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, bemused at the apparent hostility of the farmer, Alistair’s reaction and this new Merula person, who just happened to come along. Perhaps this journey, she had been so reluctant to go on, would still turn out to be entertaining.

“My, my...this Loghain fellow moves quickly, does he not?” Her voice carried a touch of admiration for their opponent. “To label you traitors for a deed that was his; an intelligent move.”

The farmer noticed her then, gave her a slow once-over and paled drastically as she gave him the small, vicious smirk she reserved for fools. He looked into Alistair’s direction, at the newcomer and then at Lydia and Morrigan.

“I...I better go,” he stammered and quickly stumbled backwards, away from the group.

Perhaps he was not a complete fool, Morrigan grudgingly admitted, as she looked at the retreating figure of the farmer. Ignoring Alistair, which wasn’t difficult at all, she turned instead towards the more interesting arrival.

Quickly, Morrigan assessed the newcomer. If the robes had not given it away, then the rune-carved staff would have; a mage. And an elf, too. How interesting.

“A sensible suggestion.” Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “Though I wonder why an apostate would wish to help Grey Wardens. Surely, you have other concerns? Perhaps...templar problems?”

While she did not fear templars - indeed, she had killed too many of them to do so - Morrigan was not keen on having to deal with those fools in their oversized metal cans in addition to darkspawn.

“But it is your decision, Warden,” she said to Lydia, “as our senior Grey Warden seems to be reluctant to take up the responsibility of leadership.” Morrigan gave a scathing glance into Alistair’s direction. “Whatever you do, though, I suggest you do it quickly. Undoubtedly, more of this Loghain’s men will be coming after you, when they hear that you are still alive, and Lothering is the first village that the Imperial Highway leads to from Ostagar.”

Morrigan did not mention the darkspawn horde, which would soon fall upon this unprotected village and raze it into the ground. It was the truth, but she had discovered that her companions reacted poorly to such things, and she did not want to deal with Lydia’s disapproving looks.

Shrugging, she walked a few steps and leaned against the old stones of the ruins bordering the Imperial Highway, her gaze turning to the rest of Lothering. It certainly had changed since her last visit. The meadow nearby had tents pitched on it and the few wooden watchtowers of the village were unoccupied. Lothering was completely unprepared for the horde and most people knew it too. She smirked as she spied some templars loading a wagon in front of the Chantry, undoubtedly securing the Revered Mother’s tithes. Morrigan could imagine the Revered Mother blessing and praying for these “poor souls”, before deciding that perhaps the praying should be done from the safety of Denerim.

Ah, hypocrisy at its best.

But for now, she turned her attention back to the situation at hand and waited for the Warden’s decision.

[TaintedKiss]

Lydia

Lydia was not pleased to hear this new piece of information. She had presumed that Loghain had thought that all the Wardens had died in Ostagar. It seemed, however, that he had recalled King Cailin's order to send both herself and Alistair to the tower and away from the main battle. Of course, they would still have been dead, regardless, if it weren't for Flemeth. It hadn't crossed her mind that Loghain would dare declare the Wardens as the betrayers - and to put a bounty on their heads! She didn't know how he planned on defeating the Blight without them, or his reasons for deserting his King on the battleground, but the people needed to see just what kind of a traitorous bastard he really was. They needed to clear the Grey Warden name.

While Lydia was not surprised by Alistair's reaction to this news, she did not quite expect the ferocity of it. It did make sense that he would find this harder than she did. He had known more Wardens than Lydia, and for longer too. He had had the time to build up relationships with them and consider them friends and, in Duncan's case, family. If there were a negative word said about her own deceased family than she would have responded just as aggressively, she was sure.

Lydia watched her fellow Grey Warden retreat before refocusing her attention instead, on the mage that had approached the group. Her words, along with Morrigan's scowl, made quick work of the presence of the farmer and she remained silent while they did so, deciding that it was most likely the best option considering she and Alistair were walking targets now. Lydia considered the elf as Morrigan questioned her, trying to determine herself whether she was genuine in her concern for the Wardens. Surely it couldn't be so surprising to happen upon some who would find it difficult to believe the stories of the Grey Warden's betrayal. It had always been known that the King had good relations with her brothers in arms. But, she supposed, so had Loghain. Lydia didn't miss the fact that the girl had offered her Mabari some leftover meat and though the detail may have been trivial, it worked in the elf's favor. She always did like a person who was pleasant to her hound. Hunter ate the hunk of meat and then pressed his nose against the mage's hand, sniffing about for some more.

"Hunter," she scolded and he ducked his head, letting out a low whine as he trotted back to her side. Morrigan, too, moved away once she'd warned Lydia to be quick in her decision; leaving her relatively alone with the mage. Lydia offered her a warm smile, deciding it wouldn't hurt for her to make a few friends along the way and that being friendly was the best way to go about that.

"Chezaeri Merula," Lyd repeated her name, holding out her hand for the elf to shake if she'd like to. "My name is Lydia..." she trailed off, not offering her second name. Becoming a Warden meant giving up all titles and it was customary for them to drop their surname as a sign of showing their commitment to their cause.
"It is good to meet someone who is not so quick to believe Loghain's lies. You have our thanks. We will take your advice and move as quickly from Lothering as we are able. There is much we must see too outside of the village, regardless."

Lydia's stomach growled again, insisting that food better be top on the list of priorities for the moment and the idea of stopping for a meal tempted her again. There would be no harm in it, surely? Once they had eaten they could gather some supplies and be on their way before dark. It seemed like a good option to Lydia, considering that they had no food in their packs and she wasn't sure if she trusted Morrigan's cooking as of yet.

"Perhaps you could lead us to the tavern, Chezaeri?" Lydia asked, still smiling warmly at the elf. "I think it would do each of us good to have a hot meal in us before we continue with our journey and buying you your dinner seems like the least we can do for your help with the farmer."

[Aydan Tenaebra]

She had quietly observed the reactions of the man and the woman who gave rebuttles to the the farmer. The man appeared genuinely wounded by the local's words and his defense had left even her somewhat surprised. Such a violent end with a strange cover up to boot. Well, of course, if what he said was true this Loghain would certainly want to spin guilt away from himself then, wouldn't he? Her bright gaze followed him briefly as he walked away before returning to the woman who had not claimed to be a Grey Warden.

Well... Isn't she a cheer and a half? Cheza held the woman's gaze evenly as she was questioned. She patiently waited out her warning and watched as she walked a few steps away to wait. It was then that the elf offered her response, "I suppose you'll just have to wonder won't you? You seem to assume an awful lot. I've not asked to join you so it's not really your business of how I handle my Templar problem, is it? "

Cheza chuckled lightly when the Mabari, apparently Hunter, was called back after starting to sniff around for more meat. She gave a small smile to the animal- she did have a rather soft spot for animals, after all- and said, "Sorry my canine friend. That was the last of my left overs." The sound of her own name being repeated drew her attention to the beast's companion.

The elf extended a slim, pale hand to shake the one offered, her smile gone but expression still soft and sincere. "Well met, Lydia. I don't mean to dash your hope, but I don't really care whether or not this Loghain is lying. It simply seemed suspicious that were you truly the 'bad guys' so to speak that surely you wouldn't announce it in such a crowded area with so few of you, yes, but my interest in the Grey Wardens is of another thing entirely. I am glad to see your business here is short, though."

When the warden's stomach growled and she asked if Cheza could lead them to the tavern for a meal she nodded. "If you can get both of your... delightful companions I can take you there, yes. There is no need to buy my dinner for something so simple, but thank you. I just don't suffer fools very well. That is all."

At least one of the women has manners. I wonder if the man will be more similar to Lydia or the other one? She thought to herself. The group was already seeming to be an interesting one- particularly if the tale of the death of their King was true. She could only wonder what their purpose was now with their king and companions dead and apparently betrayed by this Teyrn Loghain. Still, taking them to the tavern wouldn't hurt anything and would certainly be opportune for asking them about ways she might be able to better deal with darkspawn. Yes, she was confident she had made the right decision to step in when she did. If she wasn't? Oh well, mistakes were how you learn anyway.

Eventually, she would have to ask for the names of the other two as well, she supposed. It would be terribly strange in her head to continue referring to them without names and the ones she might think up to denote them in her head would likely not be terribly appropriate to call them out loud- particularly the woman... And if she thought them up, they would likely end up coming out of her mouth. The last thing she needed was to offend someone else. She had enough people wanting to kill her between the Templars and the darkspawn she fought.

[TimeMasterX]

Duran's breath was growing heavy; in the three days since he had left Orzammar, 'Since i was exiled' he reminded himself, there had been very little in the way of food, water or rest. Water rarely flowed cleanly through the Deep Roads; the rising population of Darkspawn made any wild stream a gamble, due to the Darkspawn corruption, most were black and noxious. Duran had risked a few mouthfuls of water from a small stream in a cavern he had chanced upon the first day of his exile and, after no ill effects, had filled the small empty flask that he had been allowed to keep. 'Empty,' He cursed, 'just to remind me that I deserve nothing!' He had laughed in relief at the thought that he would not die of thirst. However, moving through the dry and dusty Deep Roads was thirsty work and the following morning had seen him drain the last of the small container. The lack of food was similarly problematic; Duran had received no supplies from Orzammar before he departed and was definitely suffering. He had so far resisted the impulse to eat the giant spiders that had crossed his path, knowing full-well the effect that they were rumoured to have on the body and mind. However, he was not sure that he could keep this discipline for much longer.
It was the lack of rest that was affecting Duran most. For the past two nights, as far has he could tell anyway-night underground is dependent upon the man telling the time after all, Duran had slept for no more than three hours. His sleep was restless; plagued with nightmares and a subconscious worry that his sleeping body would attract predators. In addition, his nerves were growing frayed; since venturing along the Deep Roads he has begun to hear shuffling, whispering and tapping. None of the sounds lasted for long or even were very audible but Duran was sure that he could hear them. Darkspawn roaming the Deep Roads most likely; indeed, it was a miracle that he hadn't run into any as it was. Unfortunately, clothed in rags and armed only with an unwieldy sword that Harrowmont had thrust into his hands before Duran had been pushed out of Orzammar, Duran was feeling quite vulnerable. He had expected to run across something of use; a corpse or a long-abandoned chest would have likely contained something, anything! But no, his luck appeared to be running out and, as he made his way slowly through the dark and dusty ancient pathways, Duran found his resolve growing weaker.

It had been so simple, even as he was pushed out of his home with the door closing resolutely behind him, Duran's mind had been racing. He had decided that his best course of action would be to locate the Legion. Easily the best equipped force in the Deep Roads, the Legion of the Dead would surely be able to provide him some form of aid if not support as he decided what to do next. But so far Duran had found no trace of the deceased warriors.

Duran continued to march wearily on, his throat scratching and his stomach gnawing his insides; he would not die down here in the ruins of his people. He would find safety and allies once more before returning to Orzammar. This had been in his mind for the long hours of his solitary wandering; he would return to Orzammar and explain his innocence to his father. Surely the old man would listen to him; Duran hadn't even seen his father since they had all been together in the Aeducan Thaig. He was certain that Bhelen had been the one to order his exile, Endrin would at least have given him a trial.

Duran nodded bitterly; Bhelen had played the game well, turning everyone against each other, knowing that suspicion and mistrust were so commonplace in court that a well placed word would ensure everyone was taken out of the picture. Duran sighed, had he only been allowed to speak, he'd have had the Assembly feed Bhelen to the very nugs the little traitor had been expecting on his own plate. But then again, that was precisely the point, Bhelen had been clever in bypassing the trial.

Duran stopped walking; his pace had slowed to an amble anyway, he found himself sliding against the side of the road and dropping the sword next to him. His eyelids felt heavy and the forced march that he had set himself for the past few days did not help. Halfheartedly Duran tried to rise, he was too noticeable here, all it would take was for a solitary Genlock to pass by and he would be done for. But then he slid down even further and felt his weary body give up; Duran moved his tongue over his cracked lips and felt, for the first time in many hours, his body cry out to him for water, food and rest. He could not grant the first two needs but the third was attainable. He tried to offer a prayer for safety: 'Ancestors-' He heard himself croak softly before his eyelids dropped and he felt the release of sleep.

[TaintedKiss]

Lydia

Lydia's satisfaction at easing the tension in the air when the elf shook her hand was short lived, as the words that followed were not the kind she wanted to hear. She supposed she had jumped to conclusions when the mage had stepped in and offered them advice about leaving Lothering as soon as they were able. It seemed Morrigan had been correct in her suspicion that the elf had been looking for something in return. Perhaps she had judged Morrigan too quickly. It seemed that she was more cunning than the rogue had given her credit. She wouldn't consider Morrigan's words a little more closely in the future.

"That is unfortunate to hear, but never mind. It is enough to know that there are at least some doubts to Loghain's claims among the people of Ferelden." It was more than they could have hoped to ask for, really. What were three voices against an army and a Teyrn who's only daughter was the Queen of Ferelden? It was a relief, at least, to see that Loghain's lies were being questioned; even if was only by a few. Thank the maker they had the treaties. Lydia was not sure what would become of the two remaining Wardens if the documents were still lost to the Wilds. It was a relief to know that Flemeth had been guarding them and that they hand come to rest in the right hands. She only hoped that she and her companions would succeed in convincing each region of Ferelden to offer their aid to them, despite the lies Loghain was spreading.

"As you wish," Lydia nodded when Chezaeri politely refused the offer of a meal. "I do hope you will forgive Morrigan. Her suspicions are not so hard to understand considering the position my companions and I find ourselves in. She is simply trying to ensure that we do not stray into any harm." Lydia was not so sure that her words were true and she hoped that Morrigan would not feel the need to call her bluff should she be able to hear the conversation between them.

Lydia glanced over her shoulder in search of the witch and met her gaze. She had enough sense not to call her over so that they could find Alistair and continue on to the tavern. She would not be barking out any orders to Morrigan anytime soon. The woman had a temper, Lydia imagined, and she was not about to test her patience. She did not doubt that she was a very talented mage and she did not want to be on the receiving end of any of her spells. Plus, there was the matter of poison...

Lydia turned back to her Mabari and patted his shoulder, encouraging him to move ahead and locate Alistair for them. The hound barked twice, starting off ahead of them with his nose to the ground. Lydia glanced at Chezaeri once more before following Hunter. She imagined the two mages would follow in their own time - or perhaps they would prefer to wait until she returned with her fellow Grey Warden. Either way, Lydia moved to catch up with her hound as he rounded a tree and nudged his nose insistently into an armored leg.

"Alistair," Lydia began as she stepped around the tree and into view of the young man. She kept her gaze from his face, aware suddenly that he had been grieving and did not want to risk embarrassing him should he not want her to know. Instead she focused on stroking Hunter's head while she continued to speak.
"The mage, Chezaeri, has offered to lead us to the tavern. Come and get something to eat," she encouraged, gently.

[Gunther]

Alistair slowly came back around. Lydia called out to him. He knew it was time to move on. It is no use beating yourself up over what some ill-informed villager dribble. Obviously Loghain is spreading lies to cover his own arse. If you want to betray someone, you need to make sure all your loose ends are wrapped up.

Hunter, the Mabari hound sniffed the tree he was standing next to. "Yea, I'm coming," Alistair called out to Lydia. "I'll be with you in a moment." Now Alistair was feeling embarrassed. He didn't want the women to see him looking weak. He tried to compose himself as quickly as he could and forget what just happened. He resolved himself to remain quiet and go with whatever Lydia and Morrigan intended to do.

He looked at Lydia and shared a smile. He still felt awkward, then noticed the blue eyed, black haired elf who went by the name, "Cheza" or Chezari, something like that. "I hope everyone can forgive my outburst. Some people have poor manners about calling war heroes traitors?" He smiled at everyone, even Morrigan. "So what's for dinner? I'm starving!" He smiled and was ready to follow the group to the tavern. Alistair so wanted to put that embarrassing moment behind him. Hopefully his companions would do the same.

[TaintedKiss]

Lydia

Lydia breathed a mental sigh of relief as Alistair broke the tension in the air and the topic of conversation moved onto something much more appealing. Food. She was pleased to be back on route to filling her belly and she clapped a hand down onto his shoulder, lightly, before moving forward with the group in the direction that Chezaeri was leading them. Her step was much lighter now as her mood lifted.

"Hopefully something good. I am too," Lydia told him, rubbing a hand across her midsection absentmindedly as her eyes scanned the people in front of them for any sign of trouble heading their way. It seemed like it would be something she would be doing rather often now that she had learned that she and Alistair would not be welcomed everywhere they went. She would need to train herself to be constantly aware of what was happening around her so that they would not get caught off guard. Maker, she was exhausted already and they had scarcely begun their journey.

Lydia's gaze fell onto the elf once more and she picked up her pace until she fell into step next to her. There was something that Chezaeri had said that she had picked up on but hadn't questioned yet and she hoped that - if the conversation went the way she wanted it to - they would have an ally in the mage. Even if that simply meant that she would believe their words over Loghain's.

"You mentioned before that you had interest in the Wardens," Lydia started carefully, wanting to choose her words in just the right way so that the girl would not shy away from her curiosity. "Is there something that you wished of them? Something that Alistair or I could help with, perhaps?" she asked, glancing sideways at her though she kept her head facing forward as the tavern came into view. It's appearance had little difference from the other buildings in the village, but the handful of stumbling drunks just outside it's door were the tell-tale sign that it was a house of drink.