He fled, using his long legs and making his way up a rocky outcropping and into the ruins of Ostagar, knowing the only way he could survive was if the Darkspawn played with the corpses of his friends. And the fact that he lived to tell the tale was testament to that. Still he heard their shrieks, and tumbled out of the worn out architecture towards the northern woodlands, making his way into the unknown.
Leopold...
Powerful legs pumping with the limits of their strength, Rannon stumbled through the Kokari Wilds with all of the will he could muster. His eyes bloodshot and his breathing ragged, muscles spent not only from exertion, but grief.
Aart was gone...
The wilds held terrors unknown to man, but he traversed them just the same. He needed to make it out. Needed to live and tell of Loghain's treachery.
Rochen...
He nearly fell when his foot hit a root, bowling over to catch himself. Why was he alive? Why did his friends not survive, but he did? By the Maker, what made him so Goddamn special?
Gavin...
He found a river. He fell into it more like, soaked and cold. The powerful young man pulled himself out of the tugging river's flow with the last of his strength. He would not give in! Dawn was fast approaching, and the Darkspawn would not stop.
Loghain...You will fail.

---

By morning he found himself in a small path through the shrubbery made by passing beasts, stopping his march by stamping his boot in the ground and hitting a tree with his shoulder, stubbornly. It took him a moment to realize he was being watched, and he turned to regard the young Mabari warhound staring at him not seven paces away. The one he had seen not days before at the camp. He held his huge sword before him in defense, until he realized just how stupid he was being at this moment. If this Mabari saw fit to kill him, why should he stop it? He planted his blade into the ground and slunk down. Instead the beast approached and sat, mirroring him. It panted and looked at him. "What are you doing here?" he croaked, his voice as tired as his body. It popped up and jumped from side to side, the dog spry and full of youth. It then dawned on the soldier, and he shook his head as his heart quivered. How could he lose all of his friends in one night, and receive the companionship of this noble canine the next? What world did he live in?
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and since all laughter had been ripped out of him the night before, he fell to the ground and wept. Why would this dog think him good enough? He had run. Dirt and tears stained his face, and when he lifted his head he half expected the canine to be gone. But it sat there, expectantly.
Minutes past as his tears flowed, and when they were gone, he grabbed ahold of the Mabari's powerful body and had his new friend carry him onward for a time...
Gideon...

---

Days later...

It started with the birds.

In the sleepy village of Lothering, animals were everywhere; particularly birds. Sparrows and wrens diving for snails and worms; the occasional hawk from the nearby Kokari wilds scaring away pigeons; robins singing merrily in the trees while crows circled the farmer's fields for any sort of carrion they could get their beaks on. As it happened, the crows were the first to go. They must have sensed or smelt it before anything else - the stench of destruction, of death. The carrion birds flew south, towards Ostagar. As the hours ticked by, the other birds also fled, but in any direction other than their black-feathered kin. News began to trickle in to the town, most of them ridiculous rumours and stories that only children could dream up in a nightmare... but the message was very clear. The Blight had begun; Ostagar and their King had fell. The Grey Wardens had abandoned them all. That was what the people were told by soldiers of Teryn Loghain, and most believed them - who would doubt the war-hero Loghain MacTir, after all that he had sacrificed and given to King Maric and his son, Cailan?

Rumours flew about Lothering, and most believed the story... except perhaps one.

---

Ferirev had no idea why she felt bad about the whole situation. Of course, there was that dread set deep within her about the coming of a Blight, with Darkspawn forces marching north towards a rather unprotected village. But something about the story of the soldier's didn't add up. How could such a small amount of Grey Wardens be responsible for the death of the King? The numbers of Cailan and the Teryn's armies far outmatched the Wardens - unless they slaughtered the King himself, she couldn't work out how the blame was shifted entirely to that one group. There was also some discomfort in the fact; say what you would about the patchy history the Chantry offered to the masses, but it was clear that one needed Grey Wardens to end a Blight and kill an Archdemon. If this Blight was being left unchecked, Lothering would be the first to fall.

As the birds fled, Ferirev began sowing seeds of discomfort among those in Lothering; they had to pack. They had to flee... or the Blight would take them all.

---

Despite her worries and her preparation, Feri still remained aghast at the attack. Not two days after Grey Wardens had passed through, the Darkspawn descended on the refugees and villagers still remaining. Feri watched on as helpless men, women and children were slain in their haste to run away from the beasts. She could not help herself in feeling frightened, but fear would have to wait until she was safe. Even then, she could not simply abandon those who needed help. After slaying several Darkspawn and saving a handful of people, the north of the village became overrun - she could not follow her neighbours to the safe north. The Hinterlands to the west were undoubtedly crawling with beasts - not just Darkspawn either - and the west seemed to hold even more of the monsters. Although more and more of the beasts were spilling in from the south, Feri was able to find a somewhat safe path, towards the Kokari wilds. From there, she made a plan to circle round and head north-west, towards the Frostback mountains. For the young rogue, this seemed like an easy enough plan; slip away and hide in the last place the Darkspawn would think to look.

However, after several days of sleepless nights and tireless wanderings, Feri's luck ran out. In the midst of a clearing in the wilds, she stumbled upon several Genlocks and Hurlocks. In her sleep-deprived state, her presence became known to them immediately. They didn't seem pleased at the intrusion.

"Oh, for the love of..." Shaking her head at her own foolishness, Feri swiftly launched one of her knives into the throat of an approaching Genlock, her swords ready in hands before it hit the floor. There would be no out-running the tall ones, not with her short legs. That left her with just the one option.

"Come on then, you tainted bastards! Give it your best!" A somewhat wild smile accompanied Feri's words - if she was going to go down, she may as well do it smiling.

A genlock was hurled into the clearing of the forest, hitting one of the Genlocks that attempted to close in on Feri and sending them both crashing to the ground. Following them from the tree line was a massive Mabari Warhound, pouncing and slamming into the two Dwarkspawn, massive paws pressing them to the ground as the dog rend and tore with his great maw.

One of the Hurlocks turned, his head getting cloven in two by a notched Bastard sword, before his fidgeting body was kicked to the ground by a powerful boot. From where the Hurlock had been stood a tall, strong fereldan youth with iron eyes and the scars of war. He regarded Feri for a moment, only long enough to give her a nod, before engaging a Genlock, sword leading. A few brutal moments later, the Genlock was slain.

The few Darkspawn that were between this soldier and his Mabari were easy pickings for Feri, and once the battle was over she had merely received a minor cut at the midriff. The soldier was covered in enough blood for his injuries to be very well hidden, and the Mabari was...well it was safe to say he wore his prey/food more than having eaten any of it.

Rannon tore his sword out of a Genlock corpse, favoring one leg by the looks of things as he wiped his face with his hands. His and his Mabari's entrance had been brutal and swift, and with Feri's quick blades they'd ended it even more swiftly with the darkspawn too surprised to react. But despite his gruff look and bloodied appearance, his words were underwhelming.

"Hey," he said breathlessly, slumping down and holding himself up by his sword, using it like a walking stick. The Mabari trotted over and looked at Feri curiously, tall enough to be eye to eye with her. "You alright?"

Breathing heavily with exertion, Feri regarded the human somewhat incredulously before her. She figured it was just exhaustion or something that made his greeting so casual, and her eyes shifted quickly between the blood-stained warrior and his equally-bloody hound.

"A right sight better than you, by the looks of things." She replied with a slight wince, noticing the slight limp in his leg. She could barely tell the difference between his own blood and that of the blighted creatures slain beneath them. And from what Feri knew, a mixture of open wounds and Darkspawn blood was a bad idea. Starting forwards suddenly, now somewhat concerned with the injured soldier, she winced and attempted to ignore the pain in her side as she approached him. It wasn't a serious cut; hadn't hit anything major, at least. It could wait.

"I think there's a stream nearby - we should get cleaned up. It would be a damn shame to be tainted after surviving such a fight. And... thanks, by the way." Flushing slightly in embarrassment, Feri realised that this stranger and his dog had just saved her life. Without even thinking about it, it would seem. Offering forth a somewhat hesitant hand for him to shake, Feri smiled slightly at the young man. "I suppose you're a survivor of Ostagar? I came from Lothering; had some stupid plan about doubling back because the blighted creatures wouldn't think to look for victims in the south." A chuckle was cut short with another realisation; introductions. "Oh! And I'm Feri. Ferirev Kobald, actually - but most call me Feri."

His eyes were downcast and his powerful form looked tired beyond the physical, but he nodded at her comment she was better looking than he was. Usually he would be pretty receptive and responsive to such an upfront and hard fighting woman, but the only companions he'd had the past three or four days was Gideon and the combat, along with the cries of Darkspawn and the cleaving of his sword. Still, he looked up just in time to see her approaching with a look of somewhat concern. He got to his feet, and this time he couldn't help but give her a gruff nod and a shake of his hand. His grip was strong and true. "Don't mention it." he told her. "Yeah I...I was there. I'll tell you more about it when we get cleaned up."

Upon hearing the second part of her explanation on why she was here, he couldn't help but bark out a laugh at the absurdity of all of this. He'd been trying to get north for as long as he could remember, and not only was Lothering gone but this...Dwarf girl(?) had gone south. He gave her a grin at that, and a rough pat on the shoulder. Some of the fire that had been doused out from his grief had returned for a moment, making his grey eyes look like cold iron being smelted with with what could only be described as a fiery daring.

"I'm Rannon," he told her. "Borf!" was heard from the left, and the Mabari Warhound strutted toward them, sniffing Feri's hair with audible 'snoofs'. "Oh sorry, this is Gideon."

The Mabari tilted his head, now sniffing Feri's face. Beyond the Mabari, the tall human was backing up and heading toward the stream, for he had seen it earlier too. "C'mon Giddy! Don't be rude." As he walked, he realized why the woman had been concerned, but he'd slept with nightmares and horror for what seemed like an eternity. If Darkspawn blood had not already gotten into his system, he doubted it ever would. @MiddleEarthRoze

Feri couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved at the soldier's reaction; a laugh, a warm grin, and a spark lighting up his grey eyes. Even in battle, she had seen a dullness there - and if he was a survivor of Ostagar, it was no wonder he seemed so haunted. From the stories she had heard, she could only imagine how much worse it would be in person. Especially if he lost someone there.

Looking somewhat uncertainly at the large dog, Feri carefully patted the top of Gideon's head after deciding he wasn't going to take a chomp out of her fingers. Even after all of her years in Ferelden, she was unused to the size of dogs. Any dogs, actually - you never had a hound on a ship. A mongrel got on board once when they docked in Antiva, and it had taken 3 whole months to coax the cats out of their hiding holes. The mice population really boomed during that time.

Shaking her head slightly as her thoughts drifted, Feri followed Rannon to the stream, Gideon trotting behind them. She stayed in silence for a moment, wondering if she had been somewhat insensitive in asking about Ostagar. But then, they were in quite the desperate situation - now wasn't the time to play along with social niceties.

"We had some Grey Wardens come through Lothering a few days before the Darkspawn arrived - I was wondering if anyone other than them had survived." Feri said as she knelt at the stream, running her blades through the bubbling water. She glanced at Rannon again, smiling slightly. "Glad to see someone did - otherwise I'd be Blight fodder."

Rannon methodically unwound the harnesses on his upper armor as they walked. Gideon trotted beside his master, though he often kept his ears up and alert. They would twitch every time Feri stepped on a twig. "I'm glad the Grey Warden's survived." he replied, his voice rough. He needed a drink as well, he realized. His throat felt far too parched. He had been too busy chasing those Darkspawn to stop and take a sip from the stream earlier.

He shook his breastplate off, as well as his bracers and pauldrons, letting them hit the earth with an audible 'thunk', before he fell to his knees at the edge of the stream, and began to toss water into his face and wounds. Cold water spilled into his vision, and crimson ran down his arms, chest, and back. He still wore a linen shirt underneath his armor, but it was very torn. Feri would see prominent muscles crisscrossed with training scars through the sheared linen, as well as very recent cuts as well.

Rannon and Gideon both stuck their heads into the stream to get some of that sweet water. His rough leather trousers actually matched Gideon's dark fur. Rannon rose up again, coughing and wiping his mouth with his strong forearm, standing to his full height. He turned to Feri, giving her a nod and a wink. "Don't mention it," he told her. "I saw you back there. You're pretty good yourself. I'd not seen many Dwarves fight before."

He'd planted himself on a fair sized rock next to the stream, looking to Feri. Her forthright manner and wit seemed to speak to him. Or perhaps he was just glad he had met anyone that wasn't Darkspawn. Behind him, Gideon still lapped up some water, before he pounced and leaped into the stream to play in it a bit. "What are you doing so far into the wilds? Or, Lothering I guess?"

Removing her overcoat and laying it on a nearby rock away from the water, Feri undid the buckles of her braces to roll up her shirt sleeves. Her teal gloves were so stained with blood and dirt they had turned black; her hands hadn't fared much better either. Now kneeling close by the water's edge, Feri began scrubbing at them in the water, darting a glance at Rannon as she washed. From under his shirt she could see a worrying amount of cuts, but they didn't seem to be too serious. They were clean at the very least. Older wounds were littered across whatever skin she could see... and she could see quite a bit of it through his ruined shirt. Feri's face flushed red as she realised she was staring and her eyes quickly returned to her gloves in the stream. Most of the grime had been washed out, thankfully.

"Oh! Thank you. I'm no warrior, but I know how to make my blades dance." She replied with a chuckle, standing up and wringing out her gloves. Feri herself was no stranger to scars; from underneath the rolled up sleeves of her shirt (That seemed nearly as dirty as her gloves, at this point - the bleeding from her side wasn't doing it any favours either) pale lines could be seen dotted about her tanned forearms and hands; hands which, while certainly more slender than the average Dwarf, were calloused from years of hard work.

Dousing a handkerchief in the water before stepping away, Feri ran the sopping cloth across her face and neck, smiling at the cool relief as she walked back over to Rannon.

"I moved to Lothering a few years back, with my Mother. We're not from Orzammar, or any of the Dwarven Thaigs. I don't think I've even been underground, actually." She answered with a somewhat uncomfortable laugh. "I doubt I'd be let in. I'm half-Dwarven, you see. My father was - is - a sailor from Rivain. The traditional-thinking Dwarves down below don't think highly of half-breeds like myself." She laughed again, this one sounding bitter. While Feri had never felt any want or need to go underground, there was always that niggling feeling of discomfort that people she could well be related to would shun her because of her blood. And speaking of blood, the wound on her side was now beginning to soak into her trousers. Pressing the handkerchief to it with a grimace, Feri retrieved her things and threw her coat over her spare arm, motioning back towards the clearing.

"I have a make-shift camp not too far from where you found me. I have a bag there, with some bandages - I always like to scout ahead before I choose a path, so I dumped my things before leaving. Thank the Maker I did, otherwise all of my supplies would be covered in Darkspawn blood." Pausing before moving on ahead, Feri glanced at the lolloping Mabari in the water, stifling a giggle at the daft sight.

"I'll bet I have a treat for Gideon too." She added, waggling her eyebrows encouragingly at Rannon.

Rannon wrung his clothing and let himself dry off in the sun as Feri spoke. He knelt down to wash his hands of his blood, and then sat down again, merely listening. His look steeled when she mentioned she would not be welcome in the Dwarven society simply because of her mixed blood. He realized that he and her had more in common than he'd originally thought. He was not of mixed race, but all Ferelden people were here because they had been seen as barbarians by the outer world.

He looked her up and down, realizing that she did look a bit more human than he initially thought. If it was another time and place, he realized she'd look very attractive to him with her curves and girlish features. He looked away, and got to finishing up collecting his gear once more. Once she was done speaking, he gave a rare smile, and even a laugh. "Smart," he replied. "And Gideon'd love that, right fella?"

The Mabari had trotted out of the water, and then violently shook his hide. Water droplets flew everywhere, and his tongue was hanging out as he looked between Feri and Rannon. "I'll take that as a yes." Rannon replied, standing up. "Lead the way, Feri."

Giggling again at Gideon's response, Feri began leading the way towards her make-shift camp. Only as she approached did she realise that she was laughing and smiling again. These past few days, Feri had been uncharacteristically grim - but judging by the circumstances, that was an appropriate response. While Lothering hadn't been her birthplace, she still considered the place home, and had made plenty of friends there. It was heart-breaking to see it destroyed and overrun by creatures as foul as the Darkspawn... not to mention the amount of lives that were lost. But now, with this soldier who had survived against all odds, and his wonderfully silly Mabari, Feri's horizon began to look just that bit brighter. At the very least, it was nice to no longer be alone; to have someone to talk to as they traversed the kokari wilds.

After perhaps 15 minutes of brisk walking, Feri shifted a low branch to the side to reveal a small clearing. Within was a burnt-out campfire, and a worn patch of dirt from where she had been sleeping. Heading for a particularly knobbly looking tree, Feri - using a large stick - prodded the foliage until her knapsack came loose from above, falling into her ready and outstretched arms.

"Ah, good. No tree-climbing Darkspawn got it." Said with a smile, the young rogue backtracked to where the campfire had been, kneeling and putting her things on the floor. After a few moments of rifling through, she had found bandages, oinment, and even some stale beef jerky for Gideon. Throwing the meat at the jumping Mabari, Feri handed some of the first-aid to Rannon. He didn't seem to be in enough pain to warrant a potion (of which she only had a few), but for all she knew, he could be shouldering his pain. She could understand that; sometimes it was easier to hide what you really felt rather than risk seeking help from others. Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"I have some potions, if you need something with more punch than ointment. Also, whiskey. Better for drinking than applying to wounds, or so I've found." She held a bottle in each hand; whiskey in the left, health potion in the right - looking up at Rannon with a grin. "Or how about both?"

Rannon hadn't expected such a turn of events. Already he was feeling a bit more lighthearted than he had been the past few days. There was something about this girl...

Whatever it was, he felt more casual and natural around her. He'd never met a Half Dwarf before, either.

He gathered his gear up, Gideon bouncing left and right as if to tell him to hurry up. Rannon would make jerking motions side to side to get Gideon more riled up just for fun, but in the end he realized all that did was get him...well, more riled up. "Fine, if you're so full of energy..."

He strapped some of his armor on Gideon so the dog would get some weight lifting exercise, and they followed Feri back to her campsight, letting her check for traps. Rannon did gaze about the woods with a experienced eye, his pack casually over his shoulder and his other hand gripping the bastard sword he held, just in case. Once the place was cleared though, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"I have some potions, if you need something with more punch than ointment. Also, whiskey. Better for drinking than applying to wounds, or so I've found." She held a bottle in each hand; whiskey in the left, health potion in the right - looking up at Rannon with a grin. "Or how about both?" He matched her grin with one of his own and took the offered whiskey in one hand, taking a swig. He wouldn't get drunk, per say. He wasn't about to let his guard down that much in a Darkspawn infested forest. But a drink or two wouldn't hurt. He dropped his pack and slumped down on a log, scooting over so Feri could have a place to sit.

For all of his combat and gruff nature, Rannon still was a fairly young man and he let out a gasp as he finished a few swigs, blinking. "Thanks, girly," he told her, handing her back the Whiskey. "I'm fine without a potion, least at the moment. But here..." He produced some choice jerky out of his own pack, handing it to her. It was juicy and sweet. He tossed some to Gideon too, who caught it midair, and then slumped down as they had and started nomming on it busily.

"Sorry about earlier," he said suddenly, running a hand through his thick brown hair. "I've been...well these past few days have been fucked up to say the least." He muttered 'maker' under his breath, and let out a sigh. "I didn't think I'd meet anyone out here, much less someone who wasn't a Darkspawn or a fleeing family."

Feri's smile grew as Rannon reached for the whiskey - she couldn't blame him for wanting to take the edge off, really. In fact, some whiskey sounded rather relaxing for their current situation; taking the bottle from Rannon as she sat beside him, she took a few eye-watering gulps of the liquid herself. It had been fairly cheap, and cheap stuff was always the harshest. Regardless of the taste, it got you drunk fast - and while temping to just get hammered at the moment, Feri decided against it, instead opting for the jerky given to her with a grateful smile. It definitely tasted better than the stuff she had given to Gideon, but he didn't seem to mind.

Her bright expression - mostly because of how good the jerky was in her rather empty stomach - faded somewhat at Rannon's apology, being replaced with some sympathy and a touch of concern.

"There's no need to apologise. You've clearly been through some hard times these past few days. Well... I suppose I have too, but nothing like..." She hesitated a moment, gauging Rannon's expression. "Nothing like what happened at Ostagar, I mean. It's understandable for you to be feeling... well, a lot of things, I suppose." Gently placing a hand on Rannon's forearm in some modicum of comfort, she offered up a softer smile than before; more supporting than anything. "You don't have to worry about me - I'm just glad to have found somebody too. In fact, I was lucky enough to get two for the price of one." She finished with a light chuckle, looking at Gideon who was gnawing happily on her stale jerky... all of Rannon's had disappeared down the dog's gullet.

Realising that after a few moments her hand was still on Rannon's forearm, she removed it quickly, busying herself with her bandages while trying to hide the slight blush creeping along her cheeks. The bandages weren't really a distraction; that wound on her side was still annoyingly oozing blood. The cut seemed shallow, but was long and seemed to have no intention of clotting any time soon. Getting to her feet, she undid her corset (Which would need repairing; again.) and rolled her shirt up, tucking it under her bra to wrap the bandage around her exposed midriff with more ease. From behind, Rannon would see flickers of a deep, knotted scar on her back when Feri's long hair swayed out of the way.

"So, where were you thinking of heading to? I bet Redcliff would be safe enough." She suggested to the warrior, tying of her bandage and turning to face him as she pulled her shirt back down. Picking up her corset from the floor, she decided putting it back on would be beneficial too; it would save her carrying it, and while damaged, it would apply more pressure to the wound.

Rannon gave Feri a grin that showed his teeth when she took a swig or two of Whiskey. Ferelden grew hard men, which is what he tried to live up to. That, and a good, loyal soldier. He'd heard the Dwarves were good at keeping their Whiskey down, so watching her downing it like he did was impressive, considering how small she was. Then again, he'd never been the biggest drinker himself. He'd been too much into his drills to do that more often than once every blue moon.

For the first time in nearly a week, Rannon felt a bit better with her words. He returned her smile with one of his own, his iron eyes almost looking blue-grey in the sunlight. He realized that her hand lingered on his forearm for a few moments, before she hastily went to bandage herself. Rannon hadn't minded it at all truth be told, though his thought process was interrupted by seeing that long scar on her back. It sobered him up right quick. He wouldn't pry about it though. Maybe if they got to know one another better.

He was going to ask if she was alright with her wound, but she seemed to be fine when she stood up. Gideon was happily chewing on the last bits of the Jerky Feri had given him. He seemed to be enjoying the chewing more than the prospect of eating the food at the moment, letting out small 'hhmmrrmmph" noises as he chomped.

"Redcliffe?" he echoed, nodding. "That sounds as good of an idea as any. It's a trek westward, but there's bound to be some places between here and there." Rannon admitted that now he had sat down, he didn't quite want to get up again. But he wasn't one to rest while others felt like going, and there was still daylight left. He stood up, and began tying his belt around his waist again. "I wasn't thinking of a particular place to go after Ostagar. Only I needed to find an Arl, and tell them about Loghain's treachery, and the Blight in general."

Suddenly, he remembered something. He was just finishing his belt when it hit him. He glanced to Feri at his left. "...I never told you about Loghain, did I?"

Feri would have suggested staying at her small camp before moving on in the morning after some respite, but honestly, she didn't feel safe staying in one place too long right after a Darkspawn attack. Admittedly it was a small group, but for all she knew they could have been scouting for a much larger army to pass on by. If that were the case, she would not want to be stuck in the middle of it; moving onwards would be a better option, at the very least until nightfall.

When Rannon stood up and spoke, Feri's fingers had found their way to the top of Gideon's head and was scratching his furry ears quite happily; she seemed to be enjoying it as much as he. However, her wandering hand paused at Rannon's query.

"Loghain? As in, Loghain Mac Tir, the war hero?" She asked, one eyebrow raised quizzically. If you lived in Fereldan for even a year, you were soon educated about the war against Orlais, and the bravery of King Maric and his most trusted friend and General, Loghain. Their children had even been wedded together, showing how strong the Mac Tir and Theirin families were. She was aware that Loghain and his troops had joined the assault in Ostagar; with King Cailan there, he had a duty to protect both his King, and Son-In-Law. But at Rannon's words, Feri's heart fell. "What do you mean by treachery? What happened at Ostagar?"

When she called Loghain a War Hero, a very dangerous look entered Rannon's face. It was good his back was turned to her. He closed his eyes, and breathed. "Don't call him that," he told her, finally tying his belt up. He realized she might think he was mad at her, and he let out a sigh. "Sorry," he said. "But Loghain is no longer what he was, if he ever even was what the stories told." Well, of course he had to have been noble at one point. The Hero of the River Dane wouldn't be called as such without witnesses.

Rannon turned to Feri, though he looked mainly at Gideon to hide his (possible) look of simmering anger, for he tried to keep it just below the surface. He did noticeably clench his large fist though. "The battle was going well, or...as planned at least. There were so many Darkspawn pouring out of the forest, but we were holding the lines. I fought for hours in that hell hole, beside Grey Wardens and even our King."

He could see it all clearly now. "But when the beacon had been lit to signal for Loghain and his soldiers to enter and flank the enemy, he never came. I saw him on the hill. He watched, and then fled. I saw that bastard leave." Now the rage was evident, if not from his look then the sheer hatred in his voice. Rannon was not one to get angry. He was someone who spoke bluntly and gave his two cents when needed, but he'd never had someone to truly do something so heinous, and then Rannon was too far away to do anything about it. He took a deep breath, and cleared his throat.

"Feri," he said after he'd calmed down. His voice was strong and confident once more. "I'll go to Redcliffe. But before this war is over, I'll kill him. If you don't want to follow me into that, I don't blame you."

The sudden change in Rannon's demeanour was disconcerting; even though the two had only known each for less than an hour, it was clear that this was uncharacteristic of him. He'd gone from apologising for being down after killing a bunch of Darkspawn, to having the urge to kill light up in his eyes. But when she heard what had happened, she could understand his reaction. It was unthinkable.

"He... he abandoned the King? He abandoned the battle?!"

This went against everything Feri knew of the great Fereldan war heroes. They never backed down from a fight; even when things looked hopeless against Orlais, they never gave up. But for him to leave when there was a chance of winning? For what? To kill off the Grey Wardens? To take the throne for himself or his daughter? It made no sense. And for his men to blindly follow his orders was extremely concerning too. On the thoughts of Grey Wardens, something clicked together in Feri's mind, and she gave a slight gasp of realisation.

"Of course! That's why his soldiers were in Lothering, looking for Grey Wardens! He wants to cover his tracks." Even saying it out loud, it seemed unbelievable. To have been in that battle, watching your one hope for surviving leave... no wonder Rannon was out for blood.

"Look - let's just get to Redcliffe first; the Arl may not even know about what happened yet. If we can get his support, we'll be able to take Loghain down together, with a force behind us. You're not alone, Rannon." Feri didn't have to be Fereldan to want to help in this - while Loghain's treachery was bad enough, his actions made her think that he wasn't taking the Blight seriously. And if it wasn't kept in check, everyone would fall thanks to his betrayal. However, she also didn't want Rannon to blindly run in to this. Loghain would be untouchable at the moment.

Rannon wasn't one to not say what he meant. If he found Loghain, he knew he wouldn't stop until he saw the man dead. Not only for what he did to Ferelden, not only because Rannon had given his word, but because his best friends had all fallen on that field. What right did Rannon have to still be breathing (Or Loghain for that matter)? A swift death avenging them only to be killed by Loghain's guards seemed ideal, he realized. So he could see his brothers again. So he didn't need to live with this shame, and so he could die honorably. Not in some bed sixty years from now. Where was the glory in that?

Still...he supposed the Blight could swallow them all up eventually. Somehow in this war, he would die. He couldn't shake the feeling he was living on borrowed time now that all of his squad had been destroyed. He'd keep that a secret for now. It wasn't exactly a feeling that one brought up in conversation, and he didn't want to worry Feri anymore. Right now there was wrongs to be righted, and two friends to be seen to Redcliffe.

"You're right," he said, honestly agreeing they needed to see the Arl. He reached up and rubbed one of the 'X' scars on his cheek, feeling it, as he sometimes felt his scars when trying to think properly. "Let's head over there and see the Arl. Sorry I just..."

He realized he'd apologized quite a bit recently. He wasn't used to it, honestly. Usually he was blunt and he didn't care who heard it. He guessed Feri was already growing on him. He let out a frustrated groan as he grinned at himself in a self depreciating manner. "Thanks Feri. How's about we walk for a bit? I think we're just a few days short of a town if we head northeast, and stretching my legs would do me some good I think."

Gideon barked in agreement, wagging his tail so hard it shook his body, which was in turn rubbing into Feri.
@MiddleEarthRoze

Glad to see a smile back on Rannon's face, Feri agreed, laughing as Gideon's wagging hind-quarters kept bumping into her.

"I think we've made him excited at the word "walk"." Giving Gideon another scratch on the ears, Feri gathered her things together; putting her corset and coat back on to save her carrying them as the trio journeyed.

---

---

After a good few hours of hard walking, the trees around them began to thin out, marking the end of the Kokari Wilds and their entrance into the Hinterlands. While not exactly safe from the Darkspawn, Rannon and Feri had been lucky in avoiding any other attacks during their trek through the forests, and they had travelled quite some distance by keeping their breaks short and infrequent. However, as they entered safer lands, Feri felt spent. For Rannon, perhaps it was easier to walk so long and so fast with his long legs... but Feri was rather short, and her legs did not fare well over long distances. As told to her by her mother, Dwarves were natural sprinters, and were very dangerous over short distances. They were not however, built for cross-country jogging. Her human half wasn't doing much to help her, and with slightly winded breath, she collapsed onto a rock near a large outcropping, holding her head in her hands for a moment.

"Rannon - I think perhaps we should get some rest. The light is dying, and we'll need to be up early tomorrow to make the most of the daylight." She said, tone heavy with exhaustion as she sat up and looked back to him. The sun was on the cusp of setting, lighting the sky with brilliant orange and pink hues, casting long shadows across the grassy earth. "Besides, I don't think my legs will work again now that I've sat down. My feet are killing me." Feri kicked her boots off with a groan, looking at the still upright Rannon expectantly.

"Well? Let's get a fire going! This is a good a place to camp as any." She said, struggling to her feet in just her socks with a strained smile at the soldier and his dog. There were plenty of trees nearby, the grounds littered with dead sticks and branches - with the lack of rain for a few days, it meant everything was bone dry. Perfect for a warm, crackling fire against the cold of the night.

In no time at all, the three were settled by the fire, the sun completely set and the sky clear enough to see the stars above. Head upturned to gaze upon the wondrous sight, Feri smiled before turning back to her small cooking pot. The stew inside was plain, but it would fill the two rumbling bellies of herself and Rannon.

"Are you from Redcliffe, Rannon?" She asked as she sprinkled some salt into the pot, giving it another stir before turning back to him. Their walk had been so exhausting, the two hadn't had much time to discuss anything; also being on edge all the way up to the border of the Wilds, hoping they wouldn't run into more of the Darkspawn, yet every noise they heard was assumed to be such. Those creatures were so foul that even long after a fight, they left a mark on you. It was no wonder their blood was poison, thought Feri. Their mere presence is enough to turn your stomach.

@POOHEAD189

Rannon looked about, vigilant when they stopped. It was hard to imagine they might be relatively safe for the time being, but...that's what it seemed like. He let out a breath, his broad shoulders swelling and lowering like a wave. He cleared his throat, and began to take off his armor once more just he did less than a day previous. He couldn't help but smile as Feri plopped down and grumbled a tiny bit.

Not because he enjoyed her discomfort, but her endurance despite her short legs was admirable to him. He was also used to the other soldiers keeping their discomforts hidden within and not being voiced, and it was a nice change. He settled down, wearing his trousers and linen (albeit cut up) shirt, but keeping his large sword close just in case. Gideon, much like the dog he was, sat right next to Feri after they had collected the firewood, sniffing the food and looking at it hungrily.

Rannon was very much like a dog himself, something he often didn't notice. Vigilant and alert when on the move, but having very loyal and kind eyes when near comrades, and often giving a lopsided smile when happy or content. That and, of course, being protective of his friends. Perhaps he'd found a new one in Feri. "You can sit back and I can grab the food," he told her, pushing himself off the ground to shuffle over to her on his knees. He knew how much the trek took out of the ruddy skinned Half Dwarf.

The heat of the fire and the steam of the pot along with the salt gave Rannon a feeling of openness. He couldn't rightly guess it was his sinuses clearing, but something felt a bit good being so close to it. The light of the fire caused his eyes to look like polished steel, and his hair the likeness of bronze. He gave her a smile and a wink to let her know it was ok, and nodded for her to sit back over by the soft blankets. "No," he replied. "I'm from Ironbrook, next to the wilds." His voicing that brought back many memories of growing up among the townsfolk, and the leaving as well...

"I've had a lot of experience around the Kokari and, I guess I'm used to them now. By the way, I was wondering how you got so good with those Knives."
@MiddleEarthRoze

Feri leaned back with a content sigh, stretching her sore muscles and folding her hands behind her head, cupping it as she reclined. Rannon seemed far more at ease now; the flickering of the fire bringing out new shades of light in his hair and eyes - as for the latter, perhaps he was just happier? Feri was sure the colour of one's eyes could change with emotion. Anger can light flames of fury in iris', or dull any once-inviting hue to a harsh cold. As for Rannon, his eyes seemed to do the same. Feri had never considered gray to be an appealing colour in the least; after spending only a day with the Ferelden soldier, she was beginning to think differently of it.

As he answered her question, Feri's hand seemed to make it's way back to Gideon's fur, petting the hound in a very familiar manner. The Mabari seemed not to mind; in fact, from what she could tell, he'd taken to her quite nicely. He was curled up by her side, after all - but then again, his eyes were glued to the cooking pot. Perhaps he was wanting some more jerky? At Rannon's query however, she paused in her stroking of the hound's fur as she straightened up, a grin on her face.

"Oh, you were, were you?" She asked, a mischievous tone in her voice. "If you're wanting lessons, I'll have to say no. I'm pretty good, but you're way too big to handle something that delicate." Laughing lightly, she pulled one of her knives from it's scabbard, stroking the edge of the blade lightly with her forefinger. "They belonged to my father - he's the one that taught me how to use them. Taught me most things about fighting actually. My Mother wanted me to learn something sturdier, more dangerous. I remember him laughing at her, at the notion that because something is small, it's safe." Looking back to Rannon, she tossed the blade in the air, catching it nimbly by the hilt and twirling it around effortlessly. While slightly showing off, it was more of a hobby for her to do things like that. The more dexterous you were with it, the more damage you could inflict.

"It's all about balance, you see. And not just the balance of the blade, but of the situation. Big guy like yourself with a big sword, you can storm on in and most definitely inflict some damage, and at a good arm's distance away from your enemy too. With knives like these, you have to be a bit more careful. Choose your opponent, where you'll attack them, and use everything you possibly can to your advantage. Balance the good outcomes against the bad - then make your mark." She shrugged then, placing the blade carefully back in it's scabbard. "But I'm no expert. Certainly pretend to be, but I'm far from mastering the art of duelling - I'm just glad it can keep me alive in this blighted world."

As the stew continued to bubble, she couldn't help but notice how quickly Rannon had changed the subject of his home. As far as she knew, Ironbrook had been free of calamities, and was a good way away from the Darkspawn horde. Had he lost someone there, to avoid the subject so? Or perhaps he was just homesick?

@POOHEAD189