Dragon Age: The Sixth Blight

[Hecatoncheires]

Saal looks the big armoured fellow up and down before grinning.
"Really, a Templar? And here I had you pegged as an Orlesian nobleman."

He nods to Gwinnis before continuing. "Pretty much same reason as her. Kill monsters, get paid for it. Pretty much fuck all else for work round these parts, like. Most mercenary companies in Ferelden are long-term contract types, or else they don't wanna hire on folks like me. I suspect they're jealous of my ears."

Squatting down next to the fire, Saal retrieves the remaining bottle of wine kindly donated by the Dalish and starts removing the seal with his knife. "And yeah, you didn't fancy joining up with our strapping young Warden Commander? Signing up to save the world and get magical… Warden powers." He glances up at Letif. "Wait, do they even have those?" Shrugging, he finishes removing the wax from the wine bottle, offering it up to the Templar. "Anyways, I'm Saal. We're apparently gonna be fighting the good fight together, so let's be having a drink."

 

[Snowflake]

Hearing those words that smile on Sep's face only grew wider and wider. "Well then, Commander, lead us to that delicious feast." He exclaimed joyously as he followed along. The smell of roasted food was hard to miss and the fact that they managed to muster out a small party in this kind of situation only spoke about the strength of heart of these people elven or otherwise. What's more, Septimus himself was riding a high of adrenaline and dopamine having just realised he didn't, in fact, choke to death and also having fulfilled one of his life dreams of joining the Wardens. He was more than happy to take a seat next to what seemed about the first people that didn't straight out denounce him for being a "bloody 'vint" which was most likely because now he was a Warden and that came before his national heritage. Or maybe burning all those darkspawn helped.

"Oscar, come here sit down, let's eat together and maybe later you can play us a tune. I think we sure as hell earned it after that." Sure enough, Septimus worked hard almost all day to ensure no corpse remained unburnt and now he was ready to party even harder by taking a swig of his first mug of ale and downing it all in one go and shouting a hearty: "Another!" Bringing about the joy of other Ferelden citizens around him as someone poured him another mug. "Keep pouring friend, I grew up drinking only the strongest dwarven ale and Antivan wines this mage can drink any of you big guys under the table." He issued forth a challenge not just to the peasants and fighters but to other members of his group. The fact that there was freshly roasted venison did not pass him by and within seconds of seeing it, there was a large portion on his place which he started digging in promptly. A bit light on the spice for his taste but perfectly roasted, crisp on the outside and soft and moist in the inside. In a way, it may have even been better than what he was hoping for.

"Come on everyone, we survived and found the last Warden, that's cause for celebration, oh and I guess some of us are Wardens too now!" He laughed almost forgetting that part. "You there, Templar Connors, come here and drink with us!" Septimus wasted no time encouraging the man to join them and others caught on that and seeing the Templarthey all trusted they too wanted to drink with their protector and guardian calling him over to share in drinks in food until fatigue takes them or someone throws up.

 

[junebug]

Kahra was more than eager to take on the challenge Septimus issued her and her fellow Wardens. She could outdrink that Tev in the blink of an eye. She snorted at Septimus' dumb, nonsensical confession and grabbed a bottle of unopened wine, popping the cork off with her hand. She grabbed a few pieces of venison nearby and chewed on some of it.

"I've been drinking for more years than you can count. I doubt you're anything but a mage who can drink me under the table," she stated with an playful, yet underlying threat on her tone. She took out a few gold coins and dropped it down between her and the Tevinter.

"Play me and we'll see who wins." Kahra took a seat across from the mage at the wooden table. She took a large swig from her wine bottle and glanced over at Septimus.

"What do you say? Are you up for a little game?"

 

[Dipper]

Oskar snickered. "Orlesian noblemen stand out. They flash. This man is no nobleman."

A man of Oskar's caliber would know. He'd seen many young noblemen during his travels, and none of them could manage an arduous trip such as this.

Oskar took his seat by the rest of the group, unstrapping his lute from around his shoulder. With practiced fingers, he strummed the lute's strings until he found the right tune. "Any requests? No? Ah well." Propriety out of the way, he began a song-- a cheerful thing with a tune that may have stemmed from lyrics, but coming from Oskar, was little more than catchy, soothing noise. The bard was too worn to sing much, anyway. Something would surely come to him later, when the party least desired it.

"Oh!" Oskar leaned forward at the mention of game. "What's the bet? I want in!"

 

[AceSorcerer]

Arrahel the White

The senior Grey Warden slid into his tent for a moment, wherein he removed his armor and simply returned to the campfire in the center of their small group of tents, which formed about three-quarters of a circle. Arrahel had his sword on his hip and popped his neck, raising a bottle of Grey Whiskey, opening the cork as the scent that would waft to the other participants of their small group, the unmistakable smell revealing that the elf's drink was almost entirely pure alcohol. Not one to be outdone, the Warden-Commander downed the entire bottle in a single attempt without a flinch, giving a hearty chuckle before reaching for a piece of venison and placing it on one of the wooden plates, grabbing from the combination of travel rations and Dalish cuisines present as they sat amongst the groups of Dalish and refugees, some of which joinined their little group to exhange jokes and stories to keep up the hope and joyful mood that blanketed the camp.

Arrahel kept fairly quiet as he watched the members of the adventuring party decided to drink to the world and until passing out, to which he smiled softly and called out to them.

"Just don't drink yourself too far down, eh? We've got to go at first light!"

After speaking, the elf chuckled heartily, seemingly as pale as ever although he was a good amount more relaxed than he was earlier. The elf had missed this feeling, this sense of camaraderie that had been rather absent when he was last conscious. It was the fuel that sustained the invigorating fire of determination that was spoken of in many Grey Warden legends, and something he had only witnessed briefly before being sent on his own in order to attempt to build the order. But with these three new recruits, despite the dream that may come, Arrahel had a wonderful feeling- a feeling that the future was not as bleak as it had been made out to be.

 

[Snowflake]

At the mere sound of Kahra's voice, Sep knew exactly what was going to happen so even before she finished answering his little challenge, he had a massive smirk pasted on his face. What's more, be it arrogance and pride his fateful companions or actual legitimate belief that he could in fact out drink her he reached under his cloak to his hip and retrieved a flawless looking ceremonial blade adorned with intricate engravings and sigil of house Avernus at the centre of the handguard a cloud of smoke decorated with diamond dust so it always reflected light in a different way. Sep raised the dagger and impaled it into the wooden table. "You're on." In his mind there was no way he could lose to her, he was a mage with willpower beyond simple men and women, his own body was the result of decades of selective breeding and yet he failed to account for his biggest weakness and misstep, his pride and arrogance.

He brought the tankard he was holding to his lips and downed it in one go before extending it to have someone refill it. This wasn't his first drinking competition and the fact that food was aplenty only meant it would go for too long and they would all regret it in the morning regardless of the winner. "I drank liquids from which a single cup would poison and shock your body and leave you blind, I tasted village brandies that will burn a hole in your throat and stomach and once almost stood toe to toe with a dwarf, you stand no chance Kahra." That last one was a bit of an exaggeration since the dwarf had already taken down three other 'Vints before him so the fact they were nearly matched was a matter of attrition and even then the Dwarf won in the end. However, drinking was not just a matter of body and will clashing, there was also an underlying mind game and boasting was part of it. Whoever could boast better tended to win out against their opponent. Or at least that's what Septimus picked up in one of the rural regions and it was a fun activity thinking up both real and fake accomplishments to throw against the opponent and if it discourages them or sets them on fire even more.

 

[junebug]

Kahra beckoned Oskar to sit down next to her and take in the fool's word. The bet was that the Tev couldn't outdrink her and his ego would drink him under the table. Kahra strongly believed Septimus was an awfully long way from her drinking skill. She rolled her eyes at Arrahel's gentle command and leaned forward, tapping the table; she'd drink herself dry before he even got the chance to fall asleep.

"Place your bet Oskar. We have a rat on our tail. Septimus thinks he can outdrink a lady. I've drank poisons that could kill you and concotions that bring your worst fears back to the center of your nightmares. Septimus is beyond help. Do you have your wine? We'll need more than just our bottles."

Kahra took another large swig of her own wine and ran her hand through her hair, undoing the tie which held it together. It was an action that made her feel empowered that she would win.

"We might as well get even. What's first? I'll be nice and let you pick your drink of choice for our first round, Septimus."

 

[Dipper]

Oskar's eyes shimmered with excitement and settled at Kahra's side, leaning forward with equal interest. On days like this, after a long trek through the woods, a bet or two was just what they needed to get back on track, and as any good Bard would be, Oskar was eager to take part. "Outdrink a lady, huh? Well then, allow me to commend your confidence, ser. Let us see if it holds up."

The pair were boasting before the game had even begun, giving rise to a snicker he couldn't contain. Like two posturing children who could kill in the blink of an eye. He liked that.

Oskar rubbed his hands together and sat back. "Right, then. Get started will you?"

 

[Hecatoncheires]

"All this chat about poisons and potions and the like," comes an amused voice from assembling participants of the drinking challenge, "but y'see, unless you've ever woken up on an Antivan dock in nothing but some lady's corset and a hangover that'd make the Gods weep, you lot ain't been doing it right."

Sliding into view from behind Kahra, Saal spreads his very best shit-eating grin across his face as he pulls up a seat next to Oskar. "Anyways, I've heard about the Grey Warden constitution even before our good Commander decided to demonstrate it for us in person, so I'll be sitting this one out. Youse lot have an unfair professional advantage, now you're all newly anointed Wardens and all." He peers around the trio, eyes narrowing slightly. "How we all feeling after that? Anyone feeling the sudden urge for noble action, to shoulder the world's burdens and all?" Lifting another recently liberated bottle of wine from his belt, Saal takes a swig. "Heard some rough shite about the Joining, so I have. Glad to see youse all walked away without dying horribly." He chuckles again, adding, "Apart from anything else, we need all the fuckin sword arms we can get."

 

[Aero Blue]

Karasten was not the kind to find uneasiness in standing idle, hands limp upon his sides, seemingly without purpose -- in some ways, the Qunari almost revelled in it. Besides, he was at rest, and the process of resting with not some simple purposeless thing. Idle chat, on the other hand, was very much something a thing of tenuous value, and 'Gwinnis' seemed just as eager as the templar to engage in it.

And yet, the question did pry at some fleshy, vulnerable part of Karasten.

"No." He allowed himself to concede, "My part in past campaigns has never called for it. Seems a foolish place to settle for… your kind; hemmed in and bordering the cavernous dark. The whole arrangement seems as a whole tactical blunder."

@Kitti

 

[Kitti]

There was drinking afoot and Gwinnis had been listening to the saucy back and forth with little comment. Her thoughts had drifted to a mental debate on her decision, a back and forth of the reasons to join versus not to join that turned the bragging and bravado into an insect hum over the fire's crackling. How could she put what might be her last breath into something she wasn't sure she believed in? That was the strongest. Those initiated could have died and she'd make an Embrium crown with these elves before she threw her life away for something she didn't believe in.

The reply to her question drew her back to the conversation, the voices suddenly flaring loud again in her senses. She was a little glad for the mental image of Saal waking up on a dock in a corset that she managed to catch in the background. Her smirk quickly soured, though, as she heard the Qunari's reply. She hadn't expected him to like being underground, not really. Giant brute like him would probably need half a thaig to himself just to turn around in. But to call it a tactical blunder.

"Sounds to me like you just don't know what you're talking about," Gwinnis said after a moment, eyebrows drawing together. "And any fool knows that the empire of the dwarves is older than any wretched blight."

 

[Snowflake]

Even though the crowd was quickly gathering around them Sep kept his eyes trained on Kahra never once letting his game face fade away. The man was determined to win ready to go long into the night with this competition. "Oh come off it, everyone knows Deathroot extract is a strong numbing agent in small doses. A buddy of mine tried to turn it into a narcotic." He grinned right back as she asked what they would be drinking. "Ain't much choice to be had, Ferelden Ale and Wines. Let's stick with wine, I'd rather not take regular bathroom breaks." He said matching her drink for drink. Perhaps it was the rate at which he had already started drinking or perhaps the Elf was already cheating when she let down her hair but it was hard for Septimus not to notice the beauty of her feature and even more the beauty of her determination.

It was exciting to finally be part of a group having spent years travelling alone only occasionally riding a caravan with others. The joy only heightened now that he was a member of the Wardens, something he often imagined he would want to be not only as a means of escaping the pointless and deadly politics of the Imperium but also to join the ranks of those that saved the world so many times before. By all accounts, he should have heard the Commander's warning but it just went over his head as he kept downing one drink after another and grinning like a fool at Kahra.

When another one of the rogue-ish elves joined them to share the story of his own overdrinking it reignited a suppressed memory within Septimus' mind to which he almost spat out his drink but managed to hold it in, to a point where it almost started dripping out of his nose. After coughing through a laughing fit and slamming his fist against the table a few times he managed to regain his composure and take a normal sip to calm down. "Actually, now that you mention it I have done that." He said pointing at Sal with his index finger. "Except it wasn't a corset, it was a whole outfit, makeup and all. And it wasn't the Antivan Docks, it was the Female Ward of the Minrathous Circle Academy." He started laughing uncontrollably again having barely gotten through those few sentences. "Funniest part is, I don't even remember how or why I did it. But I couldn't just ask others so I lied and said I did it to get in with the ladies." Once he regained enough of his composure he continued drinking along with Kahra letting her pick the next drink once the bottle was finished.

 

[Aero Blue]

The conversation and drunk mumblings were simply staccato annoyances that Karasten pushed back against, tuning them out as part of the ambience. Their shared stories, and their drinking contests did not concern him, and were as vaporous to him as the idea of idle smalltalk. But Gwinnis' words, and her furrowed brow -- that was more than smalltalk. It was a challenge. For better or worse, they were of the same travelling group, and jousts such as this - physical, or verbal, or otherwise - concerned matters of dynamic, and matters of hierarchy.

It would be shameful if he did not hold his own.

"Your empire is old, yes, and feeble, weak to match. Tainted, of seed infertile, and hard-pressed in the face of the darkspawn. We would not have fared so poorly."

@Kitti

 

[junebug]

Kahra had heard Arrahel's warning, however, she'd decided not to follow through. If this pesky mage truly believed he could outdrink her, he was sorely mistaken. It hurt a little though, to know that while everyone else, even Saal, had fun making fools of themselves, the last time Kahra truly got drunk, she was beat afterwards for insolence. It was a story she'd never intend to tell anyone and simply laughed along with Septimus before taking another large swig.

After this night, she'd need water. Lots and lots of it. Kahra picked their next wine, a flavor of the dry, fruity variety. Red in color, with a smooth body. She poured Septimus a glass and her own. The night carried on without much regard for time in her eyes. Kahra drank herself into a sea, eager to get rid of her worries, even if it was just for one night— not that she could really tell any more after seven drinks. She had to be careful now, how much she let slip.

"You truly are something else, Septimus. I'd never heard of a damn Tev doing all this crazy shit before. I thought they were prouder than that. What was it you said again before? You sang a child's song while leading your fellow apprentices? You drowned?"

She laughed and took another drink before passing it over to Oskar.

"Are you sure you don't want another, sir?" she asked her fellow rogue comrade.

---

@Snowflake @Dipper

 

[Snowflake]

[MORNING]

It was a shock to the face that sent the twisting sensation in his head and gut into overdrive and made him wake up startled and confused as he sat upright immediately. The water he was splashed with was cold as ice, maybe from the night's air or maybe because it came from a mountain stream nearby. He had no clue but it almost stung in the brisk morning air. He looked at his assailant and saw Kahra taunting him. He squinted his eyes as he came to realise what she was saying.

---

[PREVIOUS NIGHT]
"Aye, twice! Once in a public fountain while wrestling this large sorceress. She came to taunt us and call us all weaklings so I can to accept the challenge." He explained. "I know how it is with the Imperium, few bad apples spoil the bunch. Believe it or not, most of the people treat their servants better than Orlais treats their supposed citizen elves. Hell, even Ferelden here puts elves in alienages." Perhaps one would avoid this kind of topic considering he was surrounded by Elves and Ferelden citizens, but Septimus had a bit much to drink, though he wasn't without restraint. "Anyway, I get it, slavers show up all over and then sell people up with us. It's a serious problem for us too, you know? We try to eliminate every single one but the handful of official and trusted groups who genuinely help folks without any income. Refugees who enter Tevinter without any money can find easy employment and at the very least won't have to worry about lodgings, food and medicine. Their children can grow up learning useful skills and even attend lessons. I know the system is flawed, but it sure beats begging and living in the streets, or at least that's what I think." His eyes seemed distant for a few moments and as he looked down at his tankard he brought it to his lips then simply put it down. "That's it for me." He added before standing up and walking away towards his bedroll and promptly passing out.

---

[MORNING]
He wiped his face off with the edge of the bedroll and almost embarrassed went to pack up his things. He sighed audibly as he was doing it and offhandedly said to Kahra. "Don't sell it, please. I'll win next time and take it back. It's an important object for me. Others won't give you a lot of money for it. It's ceremonial." After saying that much he made sure he was all packed up and then went about his morning routine which seemed to request his immediate attention after a whole night of drinking. From the breakfast and onwards he was in the hands of his Warden-Commander.

 

[AceSorcerer]

Arrahel the White

The Warden-Commander watched their drinking contest until it was well and done, rather amused by the whole endeavor before going to sleep and hearing those roars. Those damned, insufferable roars. Arrahel absolutely loathed the fact that he could understand fragments, although the main things he could understand in his broken interpretations of the Archdemon-speech was "Kill Wardens. Must not live. Kill Wardens!" in such an insufferable tone. Either way, when day broke and everyone was ready, he quickly and respectfully parted with his Dalish friends and began the day's trip to Denerim, the bustling capital of Ferelden.

It wouldn't be long before twilight when they arrived at the city walls, only to be stopped along the main road by two young-looking guardsmen. Arrahel had chosen this gate to enter as there was a small Warden armory he had the key to nestled inside the nearby guard station. The guardsmen were haughty, smirking as they spoke up. With their attitude, they were clearly either noble bastards who thought they could get away with anything or former highwaymen pressed into service as the shorter of the two spoke up in a smooth tenor.

"Ah, travelers? And who might you be? You'll have to pay the entry tax regardless, y'know."

Arrahel smirked, speaking with a smooth chuckle. "I, guardsman, am Arrahel the White, Commander of the Grey."

"C-Commander of the Grey?!" The guardsman squeaked out, looking nervously to his cohort as they went from a cool demeanor to sweating cannonballs in an instant.

"That's right. And I believe the queen's writ for my summons implied that she would be extremely cross were I delayed on my trip to the palace with my fellow Grey Wardens because, say... some random guardsman decided to hold me up at the gate instead of going to let her know I had arrived, as duty indicates."

"Y-yes, sir! Pass through, sir! Honor to help the Wardens, sir!"

Moments like this made the elf laugh internally as the guard quickly began to jog towards the Palace District- knowing how to flex the title to get through those who would be great annoyances otherwise was part of the job, after all! Making the sign for his companions to wait as he entered into the guardhouse, he would emerge a few minutes later with chestpieces and blue cloaks, as well as a ceremonial ten-foot-long polearm with an attached horizonal bar on which a banner could be displayed. Setting the polearm against the city wall, he handed each of his three junior Grey Wardens a blue cloak and a chestpiece, the former of which would be attacher to the latter (whereas the latter would be worn with the aid of a leather harness). He spoke bluntly, speaking as he moved the polearm to lean diagonally across a few crates before dropping his rucksack, fishing out what appeared to be a blue cloth as he moved to the crossbar.

"Put those on- they're ceremonial and you don't have to wear them into battle, but they'll be good in formal scenarios or situations like this one, when a lot of people have lost hope and think the world is dying. This will bring some comfort to the sorrowful, and stir a fire in the hearts of the brave. They well help bring this message to Thedas; that we are living and we refuse to fall!"

It was then he held the polearm up high, the blue cloth revealing itself to be an old Grey Warden standard that was in good condition, a memento of his former allies. Still, when all were ready, Arrahel hiked up the polearm so that the banner flowed above his head, supporting the haft with both hands as they began slowly processing towards the Palace District.

The blue and silver caught the attention of many. Chanters at their boards stopped in astonishment before quoting canticles that praised the champions of the just, children playing in the street stepped aside. A small elven boy who had snuck out of the Alienage gasped and ran to tell his fellow elves, who would all soon power through the guards and make their way to watch the return of the Grey Wardens. It would all be silent until a small girl stood before the procession and tugged on Kahra's pants, prompting her to kneel and placing a crown of flowers on the womans brow before running away giggling after the elven pair shared a quick hug.

After the display, the crowd began to become vocal. At first, there were whispers. Then, there was open talk. Finally, there were open shouts and cheerings, the people of Denerim not caring that two of the Grey Wardens were elves, nor that two of them were mages, nor that two of them were foreigners. Right now, they simply seemed to be happy that the Wardens had returned. On occasion, other kids stopped the Wardens as they walked along. One of them wanted to touch Anselm's ears to see if he was really an elf, and the man let him before ruffling his hair and having him scoot along. Members of the Chantry proclaimed the Maker's blessings upon the Grey Wardens as they passed through, only for it to continue after they were let into the gates to the Palace District. Seeing a pair that were none other than the queen and the prince, the children of the previous generation of Grey Wardens, Arrahel bent from the waist, his spare arm crossing his torso as he smiled faintly, the standard of his order firmly in his left hand as he rose and spoke up.

"Your Majesties, my name is Arrahel the White, Warden-Commander of Ferelden, and I am at your service. I hope that we may come together to work to end this Blight, as your parents did in the Fifth Blight and as all our ancestors have done in the ages before."

 

[junebug]

It was quite the start to a new day after a terrible night. Nothing said "Wake up" like dousing herself and her fellow companion in ice cold water after the archdemon came to visit them in their sleep. It was more amusing for Septimus to be drenched in it, however, considering he'd overslept. Kahra found his pleas rather weak and paid no mind to his declaration that he'd win his ceremonial dagger back. That was over her dead body.

The trip to Denerim, a city she loathed, brought back nostalgic memories the moment it came into view. Nostalgia faded into a deep, emotional place. She remembered her screaming and her mother's pleas as she was taken away from her family by those mangy humans, taken far away to an unknown keep. Her father's grunts and effort to keep her mother at bay were well grounded and his words cut deep into her skin.

'It doesn't do us any good to dwell on this matter. You know why we sold her.'

'I didn't have any say in that matter! Please sir! Don't take my child away! She's all I have!'

'Sale is final, knife ears. She's a slave now for Westlake. Don't be stupid enough to cry. Ya let him sell her,' A man with a gruff tone spoke and yanked at the young girl's wrist and bound them tightly with rope that itched and reddened her skin. Kahra could remember every detail so vivid, her father's urgency, and the scrapes that built against her knees and arms because of her resistance, and the hard, hot slap from one of the humans when she didn't cooperate.

'We need the money for our future, Cecila. We'd be damned if we hadn't given her away.'

'Mama! No! Don't take me away! Papa! Don't let them take me away!'

Kahra stared ahead and her hand consciously went to the back of her left ear, heart pounding as she felt the small, thin bump on the back of it, a warning sign that the damn Westlake men would cut off her ear if she didn't sit still and keep quiet. Kahra held back her deep rooted anger and sadness as the group approached a few guardsmen, humans that reeked of disrespect and dishonor. Once Arrahel managed to shoo them away so they could, she flipped the ceremonial dagger and her glare at them as warning to back down.

The presentation of chest pieces and cloaks awed Kahra for a brief moment before she considered how they'd look on her lowly attire. She barely wore anything fit for a knight, so to wear a chest piece felt rather awkward. The cloak was okay, but it felt heavy. Kahra only prayed that she didn't have to wear these items for long; that they'd get their business done quickly and be out of here just as fast, especially because of the steady climb of discomfort she felt.

She took a deep breath and willed herself to get her shit together and stood up to follow Arrahel and the others towards the palace district. Kahra's steps felt like making her way through tar. She didn't want to move forward, however, she had to. When the commander stopped, she noticed a deadening silence take over and glanced over at Arrahel like there was supposed to be next step, like he was dumb. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment and just as she was about to open her mouth to say something, she heard an awful high pitched shriek of joy.

"Auntie Kahra!"

A sudden force met her leg and Kahra glanced down, brow raised before she knelt down.

"I'm not your aunt, little kid," she told her and the girl giggled. Unexpectedly, the young child also hugged Kahra and for a few moments, Kahra was still before she returned the hug as well.

"Wait, how do you know my name?" she questioned to the girl and the girl only smiled before she placed a crown of flowers on Kahra's head and ran off. Kahra stood and glanced up to where the girl ran off and noticed a few strangers waving her way. She raised a brow, puzzled. Who? Was that her sister? She immediately became more aware of her surroundings as people began to grow louder and louder, until there was cheering.

Kahra felt a wave of insecurity wash over her. Why were they cheering? Why were they screaming with joy and crying? She swallowed hard and struggled to keep on a straight face as the group began their walk once more. She felt lost in the crowd, even alongside her fellow wardens. She felt like no one. Kahra tried to smile a little, at least, for the people. They were cheering for something, quite certainly not for her though. After they were let into the palace district, Kahra continued to stand her ground.

A regal visage of the highest accounts appeared in her vision and she immediately recognized the woman to be the queen who'd allowed her to be set free. She owed everything to her, however, Kahra couldn't find herself to at least nod in the beginning to acknowledge Queen Alexandra's presence. She forced her head down the moment Arrahel bent at the waist and anger boiled inside her once more. She wasn't here to say hello to the queen or bend at the damn knee. She wouldn't bend to anyone, never again, not after Westlake, never.

The queen approached the Grey Wardens with such a stride that she appeared to almost float above the ground. Kahra hated it, that femininity and power she carried so well on her shoulders. Kahra was nothing, the Queen was everything. Kahra hadn't realized how much she'd been unconsciously clenching her fists until the queen gave everyone permission to raise their heads and she immediately released the tension in her fists. The Queen was too precious, the way she smiled and acted on such kindness was heartbreaking. Kahra couldn't bring herself to thank the woman in front of everyone. She was far too prideful.

"Such familiar faces. I'm so glad to see all of you here, and it warms my heart to see some of you, as Grey Wardens yourselves," the Queen stated, grace and dignity laced in her voice. "Congratulations Oskar, Septimus, Kahra. You've all come far and your journey to help end the blight has only just begun. Arrahel, it brings me great joy to see you rise above in the ranks of a Grey Warden. It's been too long, dear friend."

---

@AceSorcerer @Dipper @Snowflake @TheOthers

 

[Dipper]

Visions of hellish catacombs and darkspawn kept Oskar from sleeping that night. The evil tongue that had spoke to him still rang in his ears, dashing what optimism and inspiration he'd hoped to turn into a song or two. Nothing came to mind now, his fingers still against the rough leather strap of his lute, and his throat too tight to say much during the journey. A sickness had taken root within him that seemed so entrenched that he didn't think he'd ever be rid of it.

The life of a Warden, he supposed.

The mental images of that night pursued him the entire way, and only gave him time to himself when Denerim's city walls rose over the horizon. The sight of a foreign nation's walls did little to sooth his discomfort, but it was better than the woods. He followed the Commander inside and graced the guardsmen with a playful salute.

"Got family around?" Oskar spared the fleeing child a glance, then offered Kahra a genuine smile. "Kid seems to think so."

Regardless of his rather flippant demeanor, he was happy for her. Grey Wardens didn't have much family in his experience-- you had to take what you could get. He wouldn't be surprised if most found family amongst one another.

The ceremonial armor pieces eye-catching and reminded Oskar of the fancy garments he'd worn to court nobles. A rich blue, finely forged steel, and thought it probably wasn't a perfect fit, it looked comfortable enough. He would enjoy wearing it, and be quite disappointed when he could not. But they were here to meet with royalty, so Oskar carefully spit-shined the smudges out of the metal before donning it and testing his movement within its confines. Not bad.

Not bad at all. He could get used to this Warden stuff.

They were all well dressed and prepared to meet this Queen. The Ferelden Queen. He'd heard some tidbits and gossip in Orlais, but nothing quite matched with what he saw.

She was noble, that was for certain, but there was a sincere kindness to her as she greeted them, as if she spoke to the lower classes frequently. Combined with her beauty - the offspring of her parents, truly - she was a sight to behold. He inclined his head in a curt bow.

Bowing to a foreign queen. What would his cohorts back home think?

 

[Snowflake]

There would likely have been more protest and banter had Sep not been rather grateful he was woken up so quickly. He could handle the usual nightmarish hellscapes of the Fade where he had gotten used to never trust even a single mouse, but this... This was a proper vision. Not a dream the way regular folk experience it, but rather a vision of the shadow and festering blood as the corruption seeped deeper into the body of the Archdemon. The evil eye seemed to almost sense him as it stared right at and indeed through him leaving a nauseating feeling in his gut and mind. To think that once these were the beings of ultimate power, worshipped by his people and now serving as vessels for this festering evil another thing that came from his Imperium. To stare at the mighty beast as it was consumed created mixed feelings of awe, fury and shame. More than any of that he felt a sense of pride. His Oath hanging by his neck, next to his house crest. He was a Vint, a Warden and a Mage. He was Septimus Maerie Avernus. He would help fight this thing and he would change the world as much as he could, for the better.

Or so he hoped. At any rate, it kept his mind occupied and his mouth shut as they walked. Walked all the way to Denerim. Their brief exchange at the gates did serve to break him out of his own world of thought as he felled a bit peeved at the guards. However, as a mage and a 'Vint, he would likely only make things worse. At the very least he got to witness the awe that his Commander had despite the fact he was an Elf and a Mage as well. In a way, it made him hopeful that one day people will see beyond his garb and look at him not as a member of the Imperium but as a Warden. He followed along and once he was handed a set of ceremonial gear he gladly put it on more than happy to be out of his tattered cloak. Most likely he could have had it replaced by sending it back home or simply sending a letter requesting one to be sent to him but he didn't find it to be necessary. Clean and new cloaks made him an easier target to bandits and they rarely backed down when he was alone so they often had to be seriously injured before they started to run away.

When they walked the streets it was hard to miss the gathering crowd and cheers given to them. Especially interesting was the way people rejoiced as if hope had been restored but oddly enough even more than that was a little shrimp that ran up to Kahra. It seemed she had some roots here which got Sep equal parts concerned and happy. He didn't want to think of her a too cynical of a companion, after all, she was a great drinking buddy at the very least, but he did get concerned she might be holding some grudges against the people here. Still, she was a grown woman, assassin if he had to guess by her garb and behaviour. Surely she could handle a little homecoming, regardless he would want to make sure she doesn't steal his knife. Perhaps Oskar could be persuaded to keep an eye out and buy it out if need be.

Coming to face a Queen outside a castle and not only that but having her address them was not something he really expected. It must have been a humbling move for her but then again, she did seem like the saviour of the world considering she sent them out to find the Warden in the first place and now they came back four times as numerous as was rumoured. Regardless of his opinion on royalty and their little games, he played the part of a pawn and bowed deeply, placing his dominant hand over his heart and his off hand to the side with a flourish. What else could he do but let the Commander handle everything, he was the Hero after all.

 

[Hecatoncheires]

Civilisation at last. After weeks of roughing it in the wilds, Saal can't help but find himself grinning at the sight of it all. It doesn't hold a candle to the sights and sounds of Antivan city life, of course, but it's still a hell of an improvement. Markets to browse, taverns to get sauced in, humans to pick fights with: what more might a mercenary ask for?

Other than getting paid, of course.

This most potent of all mercenary motivators is what has brought Saal along with the Warden posse to the gates of the Palace District, against his better judgement. More guards round these parts, and not the sort of guards you can slip a couple coins for them to look the other way. These are the sort of career buzzkills all high on the smell of their polished armour, as straight and narrow as the sticks they have lodged up their arses. Not the sort of guys you want to cross, given that they seem to have had their senses of humour magically removed as part of the joining requirements. Still, that's where the client lurks, so that's where Saal is headed.

Their less than subtle approach to the district means that the welcome wagon has already been rolled out by the time they pass through the district's gates. The bigwigs are out on force to greet Arrahel and his new Wardens, up to and including the queen bee herself. Royalty has always been a concept Saal has struggled with. It wasn't a concept he had any dealings with until he was already a man, and even now the ridiculousness of the whole affair is still noticeable for him, but he manages a bow of his head as Alexandra comes sauntering in like she owns the place.

Which, to be fair to her, she does.

"Just as we said, your Queenliness," he says with a grin once he thinks the formal shit is concluded, "you need someone found, you come to the professionals. One Grey Warden Commander, as per request. I hope he's to your liking, might be tricky finding another."