Feri's heart seemed to jump slightly as Rannon finally walked through the door, relief washing over her like a great wave.

"There you are! I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up!" She blurted out before she even thought about answering his question. "And you're hurt." Feri's own minor injuries of scuffed palms and bruised bottom were completely forgotten at the sight of the cut on his cheek. Swiftly reminding herself after a moment that it was rather normal for one to sustain an injury in a tourney - and he was lucky to come away with just a small cut - Feri's cheeks flushed at her over-protectiveness. "Um... yes. We picked up a few interesting stories from around town." Waving the serving girl over, some food and more drinks were ordered before Feri could launch into her and Gideon's adventures of the day.

"First of all, I can say without doubt that the townspeople and visiting merchants are absolutely bloody clueless as to what's going on." She began in a hushed tone, glad she had picked the quietest, darkest corner of the inn for their conversation. "Asking about Ostagar is pointless - everyone seems to still be under the impression that King Cailan is some knight in shining armour, ready to vanquish a handful of Darkspawn and be home in time for tea. And as for Lothering? I came far too close to losing my temper and telling the truth just to shut those bastards up about speculating. Innocent people have been slaughtered, it isn't right for some jumped-up Orlesian merchant to spread rumours about rogue mages or wild Qunari going doolally in the village." Her voice began to rise a little in anger in the middle of the rant, and she swiftly had to tone it down before people started looking over. Quietly simmering, Feri took a small break, finishing off the rest of her pint, and remaining silent as the serving girl returned with more food and drinks.

Taking another enthusiastic gulp of her fresh pint, Feri wiped her mouth with an increasingly dirty-looking sleeve, watching the girl leave with narrowed eyes before deciding she was again out of earshot. "Anyway... I hope you haven't been shouting your mouth off about Ostagar either." Eyes darting back to Rannon, they now looked more concerned than angry. "After a little snooping and a good climb, I was able to find the esteemed Guard-Captain and listen in on a little conversation he was having with a pair of his recruits. What I heard was interesting, to say the least." At that, Feri recounted everything she had heard and seen in the Guard-Captain's office as she and Rannon ate. Recalling the brutal way the man had acted brought back the shivers down Feri's spine, and she dreaded what would happen if he found out about herself and her companions. Especially Rannon... one of the few survivors of Ostagar? Maker only knows what that sick son of a bitch would do to him.

"This guy is bad news, Rannon. By the looks of his clothing and office, he's definitely being paid off by someone to keep this charade up. This Bann... Flower, or whatever he's called, most likely. It would explain why his guards know nothing, and why he seems intent on going ahead with this tourney. Didn't turn up anything about his wife's death though, other than a few fishwives saying how awful it was." Feri paused, suddenly grasping Rannon's hand from across the table, eyes wide with concern. "You must be careful. Fair enough, they might turf me out of the place for asking too many questions, but if they find out you were there? They could kill you! And I can't let that happen." Their current situation - and the daunting threat of the Guard-Captain - ensured that Feri wasn't going to feel embarrassed at this sudden rush of caring for someone she barely knew. This young warrior had already been through enough shit, and he went through even more just to save her life out in the wilds. Maker knows she'd return the favour... but then, Feri had an inkling that she would be willing to risk her own life to save his regardless of settling any debts between them. Whether they'd bonded over near-death encounters, the Blight, surviving the Wilds, or even just forced companionship for about a week... there was a bond there, and it was strong enough that Feri would feel hurt at it's breaking.

@POOHEAD189

Rannon had sat down, his powerful frame plopping onto the chair, and Feri's acknowledgement of his cut had him blinking. There was even a slight flush to his face, though he waved it away and chuckled, rubbing the cut. "It's nothing, I-" but she was already bounding to the next subject. He smiled to himself as she spoke, but realized he probably looked like a fawning fool and snapped himself out of it. Though when she began to speak of more serious business, he snapped to attention as if shouted at by a superior officer. She had his undivided attention.

Rannon tilted his head as he listened, eyes on the tankard of his drink. The man's jaw clenched, and he soaked in all of the intel she had found. "You did good." His brow raised next. "Impressive actually, I couldn't have done that." Indeed, he wasn't exactly the boisterous type, but he wasn't sneaky or smooth either. He was more like a hammer. Really quiet until it hit something.

When she gripped his hand, he looked very much like a hound that had had its named called suddenly so attentive was he, and he listened further. Her concern was very warm, and he nodded, looking straight into her exotic eyes to show her he understood. His next words were a promise. "I'll be careful." He said. He knew that right now, all they could trust was each other.

It took him a few moments to realize they still held hands, and for a moment he didn't know if he was going to let go. It felt nice, and there was a tinge of recognition in his eyes as he looked back at her, as their hands lingered for a bit. But suddenly he pulled it away, and he wasn't sure which of them pulled it away first.

He felt the heat on his face, and he decided to bulldoze into another topic before he made a bigger fool of himself. "I'm curious," he said, and he took a sip of his drink. "I was wondering on how you got to Fereldan. Or, how you became so good with Knives and finding out secrets. I guess I don't know much about you," well that wasn't entirely true. "or about your past, I should say. If you're willing to talk about it."

Rannon scratched Gideon's stomach with his foot, the Mabari laying on his side. The small amount of fluff that a short coated Mabari had was heightened from the position, and he licked his lips as Rannon rubbed him idly.
@MiddleEarthRoze

The shift in conversation was plenty obvious to Feri, but completely welcome after that sudden softness she had just exuded. Rannon's face flushed as red as hers, but a slight tinge of embarrassment flooded her regardless. She believed him when he said that he would be careful, but worry still remained - along with the question of why? Why did this man mean so much to her in such a short amount of time? Like he had just asked, they barely knew anything about each other.

Still, the change in subject didn't make the new one entirely easy to talk about. Which question to tackle first? How she got here? Where she learnt her skills? Really, they all went back to the same person and place. Although certain aspects about her past may have been better to keep quiet, she felt she could trust Rannon with the more delicate details that she hadn't told anyone before.

"Well... as you can probably tell, I wasn't born in Fereldan. I wasn't born in any country, actually - on a pirate ship, 20 miles of the coast of Antiva in the Amaranthine Ocean." She began with a smile of reminiscence; obviously, she couldn't recall her birth, but her childhood had been a memorable one. "My father was a pirate. Still is, actually. He met my mother at the port of Kirkwall, and they fell in love immediately. Much to her family's disapproval, she joined his crew, married him, and I was born shortly after." Before Rannon could interject - or to avoid gaining a look of horror from him - Feri swiftly continued with a light laugh. "Now, pirates aren't all as scary as the stories would have you believe. The crew was like a family; and far more democratic and fair than most nation's armies and navies are. My father was a good captain, and a great parent. He never raided poor, defenceless people. Just nobles with too much fat on their bellies and greed in their hearts. It was usually more lucrative than pillaging some poor fishing village anyway. I didn't get involved with things like that as a child, but he still taught me how to defend myself. As soon as I could walk I was being taught how to fight and sail."

She stopped now, waiting to gauge his reaction. "It wasn't the most functional of families, but I still had a good life on board that ship."

@POOHEAD189

Rannon was impressed, to say the least. He knew she was a foreigner, and was bound to have a story about her. But being born outside of any nation was something he'd never even thought of. The pirate aspects about her made sense as well, by the way she moved. He'd only seen the sea once in his life, but he'd met a few sailors before. Those men weren't like her in most ways, but they had a certain walk that suggested they were steady on their feet even in an earthquake.

Still, most pirate stories he'd heard of were less than honorable. He'd even had a few notions in his head on what he'd do if he found a pirate with his weapon. The last thing he expected was teaming up with one, or trusting one for that matter. Not for the first time did Rannon feel like his life was taking a turn for the unexpected. He gazed into his drink, and then lifted up his mug to take a long sip from it.

Setting it down, he had a small smile on his face. The flames of the torches within the tavern caused light to dance along the scar he had on his left cheek. "That's unlike my life by a bit," he said. He shook his head, reminiscing suddenly. "Training, fighting, formations, and orders." He paused for a moment. "You'd think I'd be lost with what to do without all of that. But I still have orders in my own way, I guess. Guess I have the nose of a hound." He must have sounded like he was rambling, he realized. His thought process was on how hounds were single minded and didn't stop until they caught their quarry. He guessed the only reason he wasn't lost now was he still had Loghain to kill.
@MiddleEarthRoze

To see him smile - even a small one - was comforting after telling the story of her birth. One never picks where or to who they're born, so she always tried to avoid judging people for wherever they grew up. It was nice to see Rannon had the same kindness, although as he continued the conversation, a familiar look of ice appeared in his eye. She didn't have to have been with him long to recognise it, and what brought it about. She was sure he'd act very hound-like if he got his hands on Loghain... she couldn't think of anyone else that would bring out that cold look in his grey eyes.

"Your life must have held more than that." Feri began, hoping to perhaps coax some more memories out of him. She could tell he was suffering from loss - likely due to Ostagar - but it did no good to avoid memories surrounding that which had been lost. You started to forget all the good things and times surrounding it, and suddenly, you find yourself with just bitterness over losing them in the first place. Something once thought fondly of should never turn into that. "I know what you Fereldan's are like with learning how to fight at a young age; understandable, with everything your country has been through. But your life must have contained more than just learning how to follow orders and use a sword. How about you tell me about Ironbrook? What was life like there?" It seemed only fair that he'd spill some beans about his past, considering the controversial backstory she'd just given on herself. Still, Feri gave him a warm smile, hoping that could ease him slightly. She would hate to make him uncomfortable.

@POOHEAD189

He met her eyes, and it seemed to loosen him up somewhat. He smiled back and stared into his cup. "Sometimes I almost forget what it was like there," he admitted. It seemed so long ago, now. His life had been shoved into combat since he was recruited by the Bann into his service. Not that it was a terrible thing. He would have never met his truest friends otherwise, or Feri he supposed. "But not the memories. The memories always stay, you know?"

He let the words linger a bit. Gideon's panting was the only audible thing as he began to recount a few images in his head. "When I was little I'd help dad with making saddles. I'd help tan the leather and strip it into sizeable pieces. Sometimes men would let me ride their horses while they had business with my dad. They always thought I'd go too far, and one time I did. But that was just me not knowing how to ride a horse..."

He shrugged at the memory, almost looking sly while doing it. "I'd help my mom pick flowers and herbs for her work. She'd make medicine for the townspeople. And I'd beat up anyone messing with my siblings too, though not in front of my mom picking herbs...other than that one time. Well, it wasn't in front of her, but I did leave her to do it and she found out about it later when she wondered where I had went. I guess it was surprising to her that her son went from picking flowers to bashing someone's face in but..."

She couldn't stop a grin growing on her face as Rannon recounted stories from his childhood. Feri could feel the warmth and nostalgia in his voice, and it was almost infectious. What with how grim he'd looked when thinking about his past since she'd known him, she'd expected some depressing tale of slavery or abuse. A common tale for peasants, and not just in Ferelden. More than a few of the crew of her father's ship were runaways from some horrible life. She wondered then what Rannon would be like on a pirate ship; the image in her mind was both amusing and... rousing. Before her imagination ran away with her, Feri thought up a response for her friend.

"Well, you'd be surprised how much fighting and flower-picking have in common." She responded jokingly, amused at the thought of a tiny version of Rannon throwing punches at village louts while clutching onto daisies. "And it's always nice to stick up for siblings. Nice to have siblings, actually. I remember as soon as I hit the age of 6 I was begging my parents for a little brother or sister. I don't doubt they didn't try plenty of times, but I think a union between a human and dwarf was too rare to yield more than one child." She shrugged idly, gazing into the dregs of her tankard. "I had to make do with the mousers we had on board, but they soon got sick of playing soldiers and darkspawn with me." They also couldn't hold swords, or attack her when she demanded. But the yowling was a pretty good impression of a genlock, though her 6 year old self certainly didn't know that.

"How many siblings do you have then? Did they join the army like you?" She asked, realising that Rannon hadn't mentioned his family at all before now, and certainly hadn't mentioned any brothers or sisters. Glancing down at the panting Mabari, Feri also wondered how long Rannon had had Gideon. Judging by their bond, she could only guess a good few years.

@POOHEAD189

Rannon gave a small laugh, smiling at her joke and watching her eyes. Below the table his right knee bounced, and he rested his chin on one of his hands as he watched her talk. There was a warmth in his chest and a restlessness to his body, yet at the same time he was comfortable. In essence, by the maker was she cute. Her smile and her exotic eyes, and the curl of her hair waving down her shoulders. Not to mention she was funny and witty.

And of course, those thoughts led to him appreciating how...attractive her form was too, but he did his best to suppress those thoughts. She was both adorable and hot, but she wouldn't ever consider the same about him. Now wasn't the time in any rate, even though he very much would rather think of her than dwell on the burnt remains of his current life.

"You played soldiers and darkspawn?" He asked, letting out a chuckle. "You know if we weren't already doing that more than enough, I wouldn't have minded playing that with you. I love sparring, honestly." It was one reason why he was in the tournament. Or, why he didn't mind being in the tournament. He was there by necessity of their situation of course. It was just, if this was a normal day in normal circumstances, he could see himself joining recreationally too.

"How many siblings do you have then? Did they join the army like you?" She asked. He gave a softer smile this time, and his eyes traveled down to the table. "No, none of them did. Edmund's an armorer's apprentice, and Wilfred I hear is going to follow my mother's business." Rannon said, thinking inwardly. "They're both younger than me. Edmund by 2 years and Wilfred by 4. I haven't been very close to them in awhile, though. Me beating up those people who messed with them was when I was a kid." He breathed in deep. "After I joined the army, I'd only seen them a few times."

He wondered if they were ok. He knew they had to be. Ironbrook wasn't without its outposts and watch, but still... Rannon pushed those thoughts away and focused on the present. His eyes lifted back up to Feri's face. He didn't know what to say next, actually. I know this will sound weird but I like listening to you talk, can you talk more? Yeah like that'll be smooth. He paused, simply looking at her contentedly. "I think I'm kind of too tired to think of anything to say, but I also don't feel like sleeping yet." He said, hoping she caught on instead of thinking he wanted her to leave. It was nice sitting here, honestly.
@MiddleEarthRoze

The thought of sparring with Rannon, in play or not, brought a flush to Feri's cheeks and a strange warmth to the rest of her body. She almost didn't hear the rest of his conversation about his brothers as her imagination ran wild. She had noticed the way his body had moved on the battle-field, and even in the most deadly, sickening of situations that the Darkspawn brought forth, she had noticed his form. He was so tall and powerful, his movements brutal and merciless, and yet, there remained a dancer's touch about him. The way he wielded his sword, the almost effortless way he pushed his opponents to the ground, and the ever-stoic intensity in his steel eyes. Feri could rightly imagine herself in the place of his foe during a sparring session; grappling with Rannon as they both strove to win, emotions running high despite the harmless nature of their contest. The thought of that situation - the context and the proximity that Feri would have with him - was a certainly provocative (And distracting) one.

Without her knowing, Feri had settled into a relaxed position - arms propped up on the table and hands cupping her chin and keeping her head aloft, an almost dreamy smile resting on her face. Upon realising Rannon had stopped talking, Feri snapped out of her daydream, though she noticed that she'd been doing that a lot lately around him.

"Two brothers? Lucky guy. Though I guess being the oldest of three has it's downsides too. There was a family in Lothering where the eldest was always chasing after their younger sister and brother. Pretty sure the girl was a mage though, so life was always a bit more hectic for them." Feri replied with a light laugh, and then continued talking. Whether Rannon was done speaking because of the subject or... another reason, she didn't mind. The only complaints her mother had had about Feri when the pair had made it to dry land was that she talked and day-dreamed too much. It turned out you could get away with both of those traits aboard a pirate ship when your Father was Captain, but not so much in a quaint village mostly filled with suspicious Ferelden farmers. In short, Feri could talk endlessly, and it was quite refreshing to hear someone was willing to listen rather than being told to shut it.

"Over the years at sea, it wasn't very often that I met someone who was around my age. As a child it didn't bother me so much, because I had my mother, the very unwilling cats, and usually most of the sailors who would play with me when they had the time. A lot of them had children back at wherever their spouses lived on dry land, so I think they enjoyed spending time with a kid when they couldn't see their own. But... when I turned into a teenager, things became far less comfortable." Her pose shifted so that her arms were resting lightly on the tabletop, left hand playing with a woven leather bracelet on her right wrist as a fond smile appeared on her face. Although having moved, Feri remained leaning into the table, so that her face remained only a few inches from Rannon's.

"Most of the crew were strapping, young men at this point. Still several years older than me, but by the time I'd reached 16, I was the same age as the wenches they chased after in every dock we stopped at. Probably fearing the wrath of the Captain, they'd avoid me like the plague. I must admit, I wasn't making things easy what with being at that time in my life - I'd find myself giving lingering looks at the more attractive of the men as they worked on the deck, and I was losing my childish looks more and more as the days went by. At the time, I was irritated at how much they skirted around me. In hindsight, they were being extremely sensible." Feri laughed quietly, shaking her head at her own childish silliness. Although she had looked more womanly at that age, she still had the naive mind of a child.

"But the first man I met that really paid attention to me took my breath away. Keep in mind that it doesn't take much to take an idiotic teenage girl's breath away, especially under the circumstances. It was a reunion, of sorts. Some of the more respectable pirate Captains are friendly with one another, and it's commonplace for them to meet up every couple of years or so. The crews all mingle, the Captains swap war stories, drink to fallen comrades, that kind of thing. There's usually music and dancing, plenty of food, and of course, alcohol. The man in question was one of these Captains. Unusually young, as he'd taken up his father's mantle after his untimely death a few months prior to the reunion. The crew seemed to love him though, so he was the perfect candidate. Made it all the more flattering when he paid special attention to me during that time. Maker, it didn't take much to impress me back then." Feri's laugh was a bit louder this time; this story was one she had told a fair few friends as it usually garnered a couple of laughs, but it suddenly occurred to her that perhaps Rannon didn't want to be hearing about this story. Or would he? She wasn't sure. It felt different, somehow. Not because they hadn't been friends for long, but because she felt that Rannon could be made uncomfortable about hearing her past crushes, rather than just laughing along with her like comrades in the past had. Feri wondered if she had better change the subject, but part of her reasoned that the end of her story would be a comfort to Rannon... if he was feeling what she thought he was feeling, anyway.

"This guy was older than me, though still at an approachable age. An attractive, powerful Captain all interested in the pretty young daughter of Captain Ianto Kobald? Of course, I was overwhelmed. But the thing is, he was an utter bastard. It wasn't obvious at first, especially not to the naive little thing I was back then, but underneath all that charisma and charm, he had some pretty skewed morals. Ones that I didn't exactly approve of." Feri's head dipped forwards slightly towards Rannon, the nearby fires casting shadows across her face and making her green eyes glint all the more brightly in the reflection of the flames. The lighting was making fine work of Rannon's profile too; highlighting his strong features, deepening his scars, and illuminating his grey eyes so that they looked like steel in a forge. It was certainly a face one could easily get lost in, even when one was busy thinking about past flings.

"I suppose the morale of my story is to not give in to emotions so easily. I was lucky I had some wits about me, enough so that I could realise I couldn't have a happy future with this man. After that close call, I dealt with my lack of age-similar comrades much more readily." As she said this, her gaze left his and met with the table, her forefinger idly tracing the scratches on the scarred, wooden surface. "To this day, he's been the second most captivating man I've ever met." Feri's eyes flicked back to Rannon, a knowing smile on her face. "Though nowhere near the kindest."

@POOHEAD189

Rannon leaned over his muscled arms, set on the table in front of him as he sat and listened to Feri. He tilted his head as she spoke, his normally stoic and fearsome face merely curious, almost like a puppy. He really did like listening to her speak, and her smiles and eyes caused him get a bit restless. His left leg began to bounce up and down like a tail wagging.

But he had to admit, he felt a bit of jealousy tightening within himself when she began to recall her previous boyfriend. Or what he perceived she meant as boyfriend. He sobered up a bit at that. He wasn't resentful or angry, just his tone went from enraptured to more neutral, seeing how she remembered him fondly initially. He couldn't blame her for that, after all. He decided to merely listen then, his leg having stopped shaking for the moment and letting her mind wander back into her past. He had to admit it was good to hear some of her backstory, even considering the subject.

Once she started saying how much of a mistake he was, however. He tilted his head again. "Yeah?" He asked, understanding how that feeling was. He'd never been serious with anyone, but the one or two girls he'd gotten somewhat close to turned out to be similar. He could definitely relate. He could also relate with a guy being a jackass. A lot of guys he'd known growing up treated their girlfriends like shit. He leaned in a tad closer naturally as she finished her story, his broad shoulders lowering a bit as he enjoyed the look of the firelight dancing across her pretty face, her green eyes and lush hair.

"To this day, he's been the second most captivating man I've ever met." Feri's eyes flicked back to Rannon, a knowing smile on her face. "Though nowhere near the kindest."

He felt heat rise up into his face, and he let out a light chuckle of disbelief. "I'm not..." he began, shaking his head. "I just...you know. I look out for..."

Even as blunt and forthright as Rannon usually was, he didn't quite know the words to say as she looked at him. He'd always felt like the term 'getting lost in their eyes' was cliche but, by the Maker he was all too lost at the moment. "Thank you," he breathed, his lips parting ever so slightly. They had quite the height difference, but he felt his face sinking lower as he gazed at her, his leg beginning to shake again before they-

"Here's the check." The tavern maid said, slapping a bit of parchment before them. Rannon swallowed and pulled himself back up, face as red as corrupted lyrium. "Oh, um. Thanks. I got it." He replied, patting his chest. Gideon gave a small 'harum?' as he lifted his head from beneath them, as if to say 'we leaving now?'

---

The trumpets blared along the sidelines, musicians standing before the audience seats bedecked with banners and cheering townsfolk. The sun was high in the clear blue sky, a wind drifting lazily across the contest field as the champions made their way out of the tents and into the sight of the crowd. All of them were carrying their own equipment and weapons, helmed and armored. Some had shields while others had larger, heftier weapons.

Only half of the Champions from the day before were present on the field, but that still left about a dozen men. Rannon walked out among the center of the procession as the warriors marched out, halting in a line before the crowd and taking off their helms for a moment, as they had been bade.

Bann Heathor sat upon a small throne at the very middle of the stands, snug within his own private viewing chambers above the rest. Beside him was his shapely blonde daughter, a flawless green dress hugging her feminine body, bright blue eyes gazing at the wonder of this spectacle before her. Many of the men looked up at her with longing, while some of the older veterans, as well as Rannon, simply looked forward at the crowd as the warriors saluted with their fists to their chest.

Rannon did take a glance at the private boxes' way for a moment however, taking note of the Bann. He was fighting to speak to him after all. His eyes flicked to the side, and he saw Feri along with Gideon for a split second. He wished he hadn't seen them. Not out of any desire to not want to be around them, but he needed to focus on the task at hand.

"Glorious warriors!" Bann Heathor called, his arms out wide. He looked positively plump, though in his younger years he might have been a soldier himself by the look of him. But now his trimmed beard was all but grey, and the bejeweled rings on his fingers, along with his belly, betrayed just how long ago his fighting years had been. "Today, you fight for honor and glory. Today, let Andraste shine upon your swords, and whosoever proves to have her favor, I shall reward thee with gifts, and honor a wish. Today, one of you shall attain fame! Luck be upon you, warriors. May the Maker watch over us all."

"Blessed be the Maker," the Warriors repeated in unison. As one, they placed their helms back on their heads. Rannon did so with the rest of them, closing his eyes and trying to un-muddle his thoughts. He needed to remember the sacrifices of his friends. He needed to save these people from that fate.
@MiddleEarthRoze

Although the sky above held blue skies and a merry sun, there was a cold bite to the gentle wind carrying across the air. Whether it was because she sensed the beginnings of winter approaching, or impending doom in the shape of a darkspawn horde, Feri felt unsettled. There was but a moment of sweet bliss she held in the early morning, awaking in the comfortable (Well - more comfortable than the wilderness, anyhow) tavern bed to the hustle and bustle of an excited town. The memories of the night before; her conversation with Rannon, the closeness of them both on the table, and the bittersweet sensation of having a barmaid ruin their little bubble... all of it was recalled fondly, and with a touch of excitement. But as older, more foul memories returned to her still half-asleep mind, her happiness drained and was replaced with worry. Not just for what they had seen and encountered already, but what was to come. Rannon was in grave danger being in this town, what with having witnessed the traitorous events of Loghain Mac Tir at Ostagar - with a bent Guard-Captain and complacently widowed Bann, there was too much going on for Feri to have watched the tourney at ease. While she didn't doubt Rannon's capabilities, there were too many threats present for this to seem like a fair fight.

Placing what she hoped was an encouraging smile on her face as Rannon briefly looked their way, an unusually serious expression swiftly replaced it as Feri scanned the crowd. Eyes locked on Bann Heathor as he spoke to the crowd, the uncomfortable knot of concern in Feri's stomach tightened. This wasn't a man who was grieving a wife of many years whom he had loved with all his heart. It certainly wasn't a man who knew about the impending Blight practically knocking on his doorstep either. He sounded too out of place for the circumstances, and that alone stank. Noticing the rich fabric of his (tightly fitting) clothes and the rings on his fingers, Feri's eyes narrowed. They looked of similar make to the kind she had noticed in the Guard-Captain's office... was the Bann paying off the Guard-Captain? Or were they both being paid off to turn a blind eye by somebody else entirely? Perhaps Loghain's reach was longer than they had anticipated.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Giddy." Feri murmured to the Mabari, sejant beside her and peering at the crowd just as intently. As she looked, she noticed the man in question; having suddenly appeared behind the rather comfortable looking seat of the Bann's prim daughter. Nudging the strange man that stood beside her, Feri offered him a grin.

"Who's that strapping fellow over there? If he's after the Bann's daughter, I'd have thought he'd be participating in the tourney." She asked in a gossiping manner, knowing full well what small-town villagers were like for spreading stories. As anticipated, the man in question nodded in response, a somewhat leering grin appearing as he looked at the pair.

"Aye, she's a pretty one alright. Not worth the trouble though, if the stories from the maids up at the manor are anything to go by. That man though..." The man's expression sobered up slightly. "That's Guard-Captain Ransen. Only recently got the job too. Nasty piece of work, though you didn't hear it from me. I'd steer clear of him while your and your man are visiting."

"Recently, you say?" Feri murmured in response, still looking at Ransen before she fully realised what the man had said. Blushing furiously, she turned to look at him. "Rannon's not my man! He's just -" Trailing off as she realised the villager had left the crowd to source some food, the half-dwarf turned back round huffily, arms crossed and cheeks still red. "Just a friend." She muttered. Gideon woofed in disbelief, and the tourney began. Feri couldn't decide whether or not to keep her eyes on Rannon, or potential foes in the crowd surrounding them.

@POOHEAD189

The melee was fierce that day. Steel gleamed and dust billowed. Even the guards were impressed at the skillful brutality that was displayed among the field, at least with a few of the more notable last standers. But even the men who were defeated earlier had fought tooth and nail for their winning until they were injured enough to call out, or were thrown out by their opponent.

Rannon did not have the same eyes he did when Feri first met him, with no true feeling or thought except that of survival. However she could still see that his simmering expression and iron gaze betrayed his determined and dark thoughts as he moved on instinct, sometimes giving off a roar of exertion or a crisp, feral shout as he struck. Rannon's mindset, military training, and large size gave him an edge against most of his opponents, flinging a few of them out personally with his great strength. A few times, as there were many men, it would have seemed to Feri like he was to be back stabbed. Indeed he received a few knocks, but he knocked right back and then some!

It was when there were only two left in the tournament that a hush fell on the normally boisterous crowd. It was just as Rannon was throwing out the last opponent whom he had grappled into submission, that he realized there was just him and one other. The last man was an older Knight, with a gloriously curled mustache who still held himself well in his now-scuffed armor, a long handled warhammer in his guantleted hands. His hair was streaked with grey, and he had a gleam in his eyes. Feri would remember that he tossed out many other combatants with an experience that even surpassed Rannon's earlier fights.

"My, you're a young one. Seems age is catching up to me," The knight chuckled.

With a slow advance, measuring one another's stances, they met at the center in a clash of steel. The two traded blows for a what seemed like an hour, though honestly it was merely a few moments. The exchange was a ruse by the older knight however, for he thrust his warhammer forward and yanked it back, hooking Rannon's left leg in the hammer and sending Rannon to the ground. The younger Fereldan had to roll near instantly to dodge the next hammer blow, rising up and blocking the hammer with his heavy sword, only to receive a strong punch to his face. The guantlet nearly knocked Rannon out, and blood was spat on the dirt. But there was an instinct that overrode his senses, and the older Knight was now near the edge of the ring. Rannon surged forward, grappling the man and struggling for many moments before he finally managed to hook his leg around his opponents to get him off balance, and he shoved the knight out of the melee ring, effectively making him the winner.

It was a victory more from luck than skill, based on the terrain. But it counted.

Rannon then fell to his knees, holding his head. His shoulder and skull ached terribly, as did his leg and lower back. He felt the wet heat of blood around his body, but he was victorious, and moments later he stood to his full height. He was stoic as the crowd suddenly erupted in cheers.
@MiddleEarthRoze