[IC] [High Casual] In death, sacrifice. [Dark Fantasy]

[Ozymandias]

I

In the candle-lit enclosure of the royal tent at the king's encampment there stood two men, hunched over a pine table laden with thick parchment maps and piles of papers containing orders for the king's army. The two men looked as though they were knights from a childrens story. One was a young man with long golden hair and gilded armour with a permanent grin on his face. The other was a dour, surly man more than twice his companion's age, clad in shining silver armour. His black hair framed his pale Ferelden complexion.

“I understand, Loghain,” laughed the man in golden armour. “We've been over this a hundred score times.”

“Time is fast approaching when we may not have the chance to revise these plans again, Cailan,” replied the other man with a hint of warning in his low, dark voice.

“We have the armies of every Bann and Teyrn in the country, and Eamon's knights are on their way here also. All we've seen in the Wilds are a couple of raiding parties, and most of them were already harried by the Chasind. I'm not even sure this is a true Blight.”

“Here for the glory, Cailan?”

“I'd hoped to have my name remembered in tales. The king of Ferelden riding in to battle against a tainted god. What man would miss out on that chance?” the young king sounded genuinely enthused.

“Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing. We must attend to reality! The enemy has not shown his hand yet, but that does not mean he is not out there.”

“Then we should seek him out and destroy him! What use is waiting here?”

Loghain gritted his teeth angrily, but held his tongue. He returned his attention to the plans before him.

“I fail to see the danger, Loghain. We have the power here to defeat an Orlesian army. With you by my side we cannot fail,” said the king. Loghain quietly sighed a painful breath. “What threat could these few Darkspawn pose?”

“More than we give them credit, my liege,” said a third man. As if appearing on hearing the word Darkspawn, a Grey Warden entered the king's tent without warning. “These war parties may the equivalent of scouts, but they lead the way for a much more terrible foe.” His elven voice floated calmly through the tent, greatly contrasting with Loghain's rough, war-like speech. The Warden took a few steps in to the tent, his grey cloak trailing behind his exquisite robes. Withdrawing the hood of his cloak, the elf unveiled his fair countenance. “And I believe that threat has now presented itself.”

“Hail, Grey Warden!” said the king with palpable glee. “And with the Wardens here what chance do they stand?” he added, directing his gaze to the man in silver armour.

“Garviel.” said Loghain with a curt nod of his head.

“Good evening, Teyrn Loghain,” replied the elf politely.

“That may not be so if what you say is true, Warden.” he replied.

“Alas, I bring grave news. Bann Caius' men were sent on a scouting mission in to the wilds yesterday to observe the passage of the Darkspawn, and, where possible, to harry them. Fifty men in total were sent, and travelled less than two miles from Ostagar. None will be returning.” said the Warden with a bowed head.

“You are sure of this?” said Cailan, suddenly less confident and sure as he had been moments before.

“I laid eyes upon their remains myself, your majesty. I returned forthwith.” In its sheath on his back Garviel's sword still dripped with black blood.

“This is most troubling. I shall have to attend to Bann Caius immediately. If you will excuse me for the time being Warden, I shall return shortly and discuss this matter with you.”

The king was glad to be rid of Loghain and his strategies for the time being, but news of an entire company of soldiers perishing so close to Ostagar had him ill at ease. Cailan left his golden tent and emerged in to the darkness of the camped army. It was late in the evening and the valleys far below the camp were hidden in darkness, save for the light of a few dozen lit torches and camp fires. Thousands of his men were down there, level with the Darkspawn. If what the Warden had told him was indeed true, of which he had no doubt, then he would soon be down there with them, regardless of what Loghain would have him do.

“What do you intend to do to remedy this Blight, Warden?” said Loghain.

“Should the archdemon present itself I know what is required of me.”

“Glory and legends,” sighed Loghain.

“My lord?” replied the elven warden, his voice soft and melodious in comparison.

“He believes the tales, Warden. He intends to stand before the Blight with you beside him and he thinks the Darkspawn will flee.”

“My liege must maintain a posture of confidence for the sake of his people, Teyrn Loghain, though I do not believe that confidence to be arrogance.”

“He is a very young man.”

Loghain said no more, and turned his back on the Warden. Garviel bowed slightly and withdrew himself from the tent. He breathed deeply and smelled the scent of burning wood. A large bonfire burned within a circular structure of ruined walls, casting great shadows across the camp. Upon returning to the king's camp, Garviel had sent a young elvish messenger to find a small number of his subordinate Grey Wardens, with orders to meet with him near the king's tent, and to prepare themselves for a venture in to the wilds.

[McHaggis]

Ostagar was a place that Morven could not feel safe in. It was a theme common to human settlements – she knew that much – but the overpowering sense of dread was not as strong in other places, like Denerim or Lothering; the hustle and bustle of city life was understandable but even that was undeniably different from being a part of an army.

The keep itself, a crumbling ruin that miraculously managed to stay standing, contributed quite a lot to her unease. The darkspawn hordes that lurked in the wilds, the Korcari Wilds of all places, might break through the cracks in the walls, sneak in, kill her in her sleep without her any the wiser.

It was a foolish worry, Morven knew. The guards and scouts would see them first, relentless in their protection of the camp. She was far more likely to be stabbed by a deserter from her own ranks, or – she thought morbidly as her legs dangled over the soon to be battlefield below – for her to simply trip and tumble over the edge.

Dusting herself off as she pulled herself to her feet, ornate staff creaking in protest under her weight, her eyes narrowed at an approaching figure – an elf in civilian gear, likely a messenger. “Warden Talathrien?” he asked tentatively, reminding her of a mouse about to be set on by a hawk, and Morven stared unblinkingly at him.

It often paid to be so obviously Dalish, at least when it came to intimidation. Weak-willed city elves often seemed to be either frightened or in awe of her, depending on what stories they had been told as a child. Feral savages or free-spirited heroes? She didn't much care about those tales any more.

“Yes, that's me,” she said eventually. “What is it?”

“Warden Garviel would like you to meet with him near the King's Tent, and to prepare yourself to venture into the Wilds today.”

Morven didn't sigh, but the minutest of frowns spread across her face. “It's rather short notice isn't it..? Perhaps we're being sent on a fool's errand?” she mused aloud, more to herself, before nodding stiffly at the messenger. “Dismissed – I have received the message, and I'll let you deliver it to the others. Run along, now.”

Turning to pick up her satchel of herbs and poultices and scattered Dalish scrolls – her only belongings in the camp – she looked out once more over the landscape below. No doubt she would be down there soon enough, fighting with the human soldiers, unless what Garviel had in mind took priority.

At least she would get to feel nature beneath her feet again in the Korcari Wilds, grass and dirt rather than freezing stone. At the King's Tent and staying a healthy distance away from any group of humans nearby, she made a beeline for her own leader. “Garviel,” she greeted, inclining her head. “Am I the first to arrive?”

[Saarebas]

"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written." The soft, soothing voice of a young woman dawning Chantry robes chanted the words to a small group of soldiers who were bowed in prayer. The crowd gathered around the faired skin priestess who was perched upon a small stand that was placed in front of a roaring fire, its light causing the priestess' shadow to be casted over the gathering of men and women.

As the young woman continued the chant a figure that had been in the shadows leaning against the trunk of a tree at the edge of the group began to steer. It moved from its position in the darkness and into the light of the fire, revealing a grizzled looking man with unruly raven colored hair. It was no other than the Warden Paxton. A slight smile was on the man's lips as he approached the priestess, as he did so a number of the soldiers turned their gaze to him with a expression of awe on their faces.

"Pardon dear sister, I would address the men if you would allow it." Paxton said interrupting the woman, though she seemed more confused by this than upset by it.

"Uh... o-of course Ser Warden." The sister managed as she stepped down from the stand, brushing back a strand of her blond hair. The Warden took the woman's place, elevating him slightly above the rest. Paxton looked over the crowd before him with his sharp amber colored gaze before he cleared his throat.

"Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven. Field and forest shall burn, the seas shall rise and devour them, the wind shall tear their nations from the face of the earth, lightning shall rain down from the sky, they shall cry out to their false gods, and find silence." Paxton spoke the chant, unlike the sister's the man's voice was not soothing but instead invoking and inspiring. It could be seen the words roused the spirits of troops, they repeated the chant with extra vigor.

Paxton grinned as he stepped down from the stand, giving a slight bow to the now smiling sister who reclaimed her position on the stand. "May the Maker bless you Ser Warden." She said warmly before looking back to the crowd.

The Warden had just walked away from the group, who had returned to chanting with the sister, when a young elven boy ran up to him, slightly out of breath. "Warden Arkwright?" He asked and quickly bowing his head slightly to avoid eye contact, many city elves had developed this habit when speaking to humans as some of the more bigoted took offence of being stared at by so called 'knife ears'. Personally Paxton found it ridicules for someone to be treated poorly for being born different, but as a mage his opinion was quite biased.

"Yes my lad, I am Warden Arkwright. What is it you need?" Paxton said with a soft smile and placing a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder, prompting the elf to meet the man's eyes.

"I was told by Warden Garviel to inform you that he wishes you to meet him by the king's tent and for you to prepare to journey into the Wilds." The elf said in a more relaxed tone than his previous one.

Paxton gave the boy another soft smile before fishing out a silver piece from his pocket and placing it in the elf's hand. "Thank you for the message lad and may the Maker smile upon you." He said, the boy growing a large grin at his reward before running off to deliver the rest of his messages.

The Warden did a quick survey of his limited supplies that consisted of two sword hilts holstered on his waist, a dagger strapped to his leg, a cloth bag containing what little coin he had, and a satchel containing his journal and a few other books for light reading.

With a soft smile on his face that persisted his whole way there Paxton made his quick trip to the King's tent then turned to the sight of his fellow Warden and leader. "Commander." He said placing his fist over his heart and bowing his head slightly. He then turned and offered a slight smile and nod to his sister in arms. "Morven."

[Silver Fox]

Lynare glowered as she trudged through the settlement of Ostagar, the elvan woman looking quite a bit uncomfortable in such a populated shemlan place. Long beautiful red hair, the regular pretty elvan face and eyes and the slender curved body. Dark red tattoos along the forehead, the middle oddly depicting a wolf. Shemlan most likely won't understand what it means, but any Dalish would. It was a mark depicting the god she served under, which was the Dread Wolf, the trickster of the gods. It wasn't something that was looked highly upon, but the young elvan woman didn't seem to give a damn what others thought or spoke her reasons. Despite looking pretty like most elves, Lynare was more scary.

She was young, only of twenty one years of age probably, and had joined the Grey Warden's just a year ago and was known to have a sharp tongue, and a bit temperamental. However, no one could deny her skill with dual wielding swords and her skill at the bow and arrow. Wearing her traditional Dalish rare Ironbark light armor and a Halla's beautifully carved horn around her neck as a necklace. Confirming she was obviously a Dalish Elf. She carried her leather satchel made of deer on her hip, her dual blades strapped to her back along with her bow and arrows.

Walking along, she momentarily paused as chanting could be heard. Scoffing as she recongized a Chantry sister, she moved along, rather not having to deal with religious dirt eaters. However, this was not to be as a sister seemed to spot the Warden and moved over with a slightly friendly smile, though hesitating, probably because this Warden was a elf.

"Ah Warden, would you like a blessing of the Maker to watch over you in this coming battle?" The sister asked softly.

Lynare clenched her teeth as she looked at the taller shemlan female, before shaking her head. "Sorry, but I have the Dalish Gods to watch over me, I do not need your God's caring eye." Lynare replied, seeming to try and be polite about it, of course this did not seem to please the Chantry sister.

"Then begone heathen!" The Chantry sister hissed with venom, the pretend sweetness gone.

Narrowing her eyes, the cold blue gaze gave a deadly glare and a almost feral growl rumbled in her throat, causing the sister to lose a little nerve at the intimidating glare. "Ar'din nuvenin na'din." The Dalish elf hissed, and although the shemlan didn't understand, the intimidating way the elf said it was clear enough and the shemlan scoffed and stormed away.

Scoffing again, Lynare turned away before glancing toward a elvan messangers who hesitantly moved toward her, though froze a little as her cold blue eyes glared at him. "What is it?" she asked, obviously still annoyed at that Chantry sister.

Gulping a little, the boy fidgeted where he stood. "U-Um... Miss Lynare?" he squeaked a little, seeing that this Dalish elf wasn't quite as calm as the other he encountered.

"Yeah, that's me. Spit out the message kid before you tremble yourself in a puddle." Lynare said, taking a deep breathe to calm herself, before crossing her arms over her chest.

"U-Um.. I was told by Warden Garviel to inform you and Adale that he wishes you to meet him by the king's tent and for you to prepare to journey into the Wilds." The elf boy stuttered out.

Lynare rolled her eyes, before nodding a little at the message as her arms relaxed. "Good, I was getting stir crazy being in this place." she muttered before flicking a silver coin to the boy, who caught it with a look of mild confusion on his face. "Thanks kid, don't worry about Adale, I was on my way to fetch him anyway." she said as she lightly ruffled the top of the elf's head before walking off.

Near the Mabari pen, was Adale the elvan Mage from Orlais. He was a very beautiful fellow, with long golden hair, pretty green eyes, and golden brown robes with a hint of emerald green designs upon them. Silk white gloves with silver and gold decorative designs. He stood to about 5'3 in height, and his beautiful appearance made him look a bit older than he was. In reality, he was probably the youngest Warden, being at the age of eighteen, having joined only a year ago and had the joining with Lynare. Both of them survived, though their third joinee did not.

Smiling a little as his emerald green eyes watched the Mabari hounds in the pen, he jumped a little when Lynare poked the tip of his left pointed ear. Whirling around, he sighed in relief to see it was Lynare but soon he scowled, or more like pouted, in her direction.

"Lynare! I told you not to sneak up on me like that! It scares me to no end!" Adale complained, sounding a bit like a child despite his elegant appearance.

"Who else would I test my sneaking capabilities on?" Lynare mused innocently as a grin crossed her red lips.

"Anyone else!" The Mage groaned as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

"Mhmm nah, you're waaaay more fun to sneak up on. Now stop sitting around, Graviel wants us to meet him at the King's tent to head for the Kokari wilds." Lynare instructed.

"K-K-Kokari wilds?! But.. Umm doesn't a witch live there? And wolves... And bears... And hordes of Darkspawn?!" Adale said nervously.

Rolling her eyes, Lynare grabbed him by the hand before dragging him along toward the King's tent. "Well hopefully, Asha'bellanar doesn't have a interest in little fledgling mages like you. Plus you've had plenty of battles of your own. Now hurry up." she instructed as she continued along, not slowing down.

When finally reaching the King's tent, ignoring the shemlan around and simply made a straight beeline to the Grey Wardens, she let go of Adale and crossed her arms. Glancing toward the elvan commander.

"Commander." Lynare greeted before glancing to the others, though first to Morven in which she gave a more polite nod. "Aneth ara, Hahren." she greeted her elder Dalish politely before glancing toward the single Shem currently among them. Paxton." she greeted with a curt nod before looking to the Commander.

"So what are we doing in the wilds?" she asked.

Adale shifted in place, glancing to the others but bowed a little. "Commander, Morven, Paxton... Nice to see you." he said in his accented voice before curiously looking to the Warden Commander.

[Ozymandias]

II

“Bann Caius,” said Cailan as he entered a much smaller and less grandiose tent containing a hunched nobleman in simple grey chain armour and golden clothing. “The Grey Wardens have informed me of the disaster in the Wilds. You have my sympathies.” The young bann looked up from his seat slowly. It took him a long while to respond.

“My liege,” was all he managed. The banns were the lords of relatively small areas of land within the Bannorn in the centre of Ferelden. Each of them only had a hundred or fewer men to raise when the levies were called. Bann Caius had lost nearly half of his bannorn in the wilds. It was his impetuous decision to send his entire levy out at once which resulted in this, but the king decided against addressing this. Now was a time for mourning. However, far more than fifty men may be lost in the upcoming battle, and so Cailan was inclined to be brief.

“Though it may not bring much consolation, Bann Caius, the Grey Wardens are venturing into the wilds tonight to harry the Darkspawn that killed your men. It will not bring your people back, but the Wardens will make them suffer.” said Cailan. Caius gave him a brief nod of approval, but said nothing. The king had not yet given the order for the Wardens to skirmish with the Darkspawn in the wilds, but he said so nonetheless. Would Loghain allow him he would go with the Wardens to the heart of the Blight and slay the archdemon himself. He had said so to Garviel, who had only smiled humourlessly in return. Cailan was unaware of the cost of slaying an archdemon. Many things were kept secret from those outside the order, for good reason. Cailan exchanged a few phrases of condolences with Bann Caius and then took his leave of the tent, returning to his own forthwith, followed by two heavily armoured guards. On his way back to the golden palace that was his royal tent he passed a group of Grey Wardens near a towering burning pyre. A lithe, golden-haired elf in violet robes was running a white linen cloth along the blade of his curved sword. The cloth turned black as it absorbed the tainted blood clinging to the steel. Cailan moved to join the warden at the pyre when others began to congregate around the elf. He decided to leave the wardens to their business and return to his tent for the time being. He imagined that he would not need to command them into the wilds. If Bann Caius' patrol had been killed so close to Ostagar, Garviel and the wardens would already know it was necessary to scout the wilds themselves. Garviel silently returned his sword to its sheath as he was approached.

“Good evening, Morven,” he said with a faint smile as a fellow elf warden appeared near the bonfire. “I suspect the others will not be long.” He refrained from offering too much information at this point. He intended to wait until the others arrived at the designated place. The wait would not take long, as the other wardens arrived with impeccable timing, displaying their professionalism as wardens. “Paxton, Lynare, Adale,” he said softly in greeting to each warden as they appeared. “Normally I would offer more notice before assembling you, but I'm afraid we have a grave matter to attend to. Bann Caius' men have been massacred in the Korcari Wilds not two miles from Ostagar. Fifty armoured men, butchered and gnawed upon in a matter that can only be attributed to the Darkspawn. I travelled alone this morning and discovered their remains. During my return I was harried by the Darkspawn. If their scouts are less than two miles from Ostagar that may mean that the Blight is much closer than we anticipated. I had intended to delay this mission until King Cailan could provide us with a cohort of knights. However, they may not be arriving for another week. We cannot afford to wait that long. Tonight, under cover of dusk, this small number of us will be venturing into the wilds to recover a number of treaties which bind the people of Ferelden to assist the Wardens during a Blight. If we are successful in recovering these, we may have enough time to send messengers to the magi, the Dalish and to the dwarves, that they assemble their people and prepare for battle. However, if the Blight is as close as we now believe, Ostagar stands alone. There will be no time for them to assist us. We have the forces here to resist a large number of Darkspawn, and there will remain a dozen Wardens in the valley below to do what they must in the event that the archdemon shows itself in our absence. I suggest you four gather what you need and be prepared for a difficult journey.

[Saarebas]

"Maker's breath..." Paxton mumbled slightly to himself at the news of the slaughter of Bann Caius' troops. They were good men, but also they were all well trained and armed. For them to be completely wiped out meant that the suspicions of a large Darkspawn force near by were true, something Paxton was secretly hoping was just misinformation and the paranoia of others. Despite finding out that his worries turned out to be true Paxton kept his focus on Garviel, no point of developing two problems when one could be dealt with by simply listening. Paxton remembered reading about these treaties years ago, apparently they were written up after the first blight as a way to show appreciation to the Wardens and their slaying of the first Archdemon Dumat. They would be able to do something almost completely unthinkable, actually get Mages, Dwarves, Dalish, and Humans to work together for something greater. Though it was for a dark reason they would joining forces the thought brought a odd sense of hope to Paxton, he couldn't explain why but he felt that this alliance had greater possibilities. But none of that would matter if they couldn't stop the Darkspawn.

Paxton refocused on Garviel, giving a slight nod as the commander finished. "I am ready to fallow you to the steps of the Black City and back Garviel." He said with a confident tone and a smile to Garviel, Paxton trusted the Garviel's judgment as the elf had yet to lead him astray. He looked over to his fellow Wardens, extending his warm smile to them. "And I am sure that we will be twice as fierce than any Darkspwan out in that blighted horde."