(M) The Age of the Dragon Lords: The Door of Night IC(M)

[SikstaSlathalin]

Rated M for possible mature content including sex, violence, language, graphic situations, alcohol, and drug use.

The Age of the Dragon Lords: The Door of Night


https://i.imgur.com/XdvveKT.jpg

Across the seas
To the land of Endor
The Darkspawn come from below
Like the hand of death they flow
Like a wave they burst through the Door of Night

Vigil's Keep, Arling of Amaranthine, Ferelden.

Dawn broke over the mountains of Amaranthine rushing up the valleys and roads to dart through the barely opened windows of Vigil’s Keep. For most that would be the wake up call that marks the beginning of their day. But for the Wardens of the Keep, it is just another hour closer to making history. The Elves of Endor have been in Ferelden less than a week, but they’ve already flipped the entire history of Thedas on it’s head.

It was by the sheer grace of the Maker that they found the Wardens before one of the venomous monarchs got ahold of them. Many of the battle-hardened Wardens shudder at the thought of the Empress of Orlais or one of her power hungry cronies meeting these foreign Elves first. One such warrior is the Constable of the Grey himself Zadkiel Cousland. Hunched over his desk scribbling out the last few lines of his Last Will and Testament. His father, the Arl, instructed everyone going on this voyage to fill one out before they left, just in case. He didn’t have much in the way of material possessions, but what he did have he would simply leave to his family to sort through if something happened to him when overseas in Endor.

His most prized possessions would be coming with him, his dog, his weapons, and his armor. The rest were silly clothes and commemorative trinkets that have no use outside of looking pretty. His quill scratched quickly across the paper.

"How are you awake so early?" Elissa's voice was muffled against the pillow, reddish locks sprawled across the pillows. "Can you get back to bed? The writing is annoying."

Zad chuckled lightly, placing his quill back in the inkwell before rolling up the parchment and pressing his signet ring upon the warm wax to seal it. “How can you still be asleep on a day like this?” Standing up he stretched his back out and shrugged out of the loose robe he was wearing before returning to the bed gently brushing the mess of hair away from his lover’s face before kissing her. “Besides, I had to get some water after last night.” He winked at her.

"Mmm, if I sleep in, I can pretend this day is like any other," she retorted, moving to snuggle in against him. "Otherwise, we'd never get any time alone."

The Champion smiled sliding under the covers next to Elissa wrapping his arms around her, contentedly returning her snuggles. “I suppose I can’t argue with that logic, but aren’t you a little excited about the upcoming mission? Going beyond the sea to this Endor?”

“I suppose,” Elissa murmured, still trying to enjoy the simple bliss of being near this man - her man. The idea of an adventure somewhere beyond the sea to a far-off land seemed so...far that she didn’t want to think about it just yet. “Do you think it is really the homeland of the Elves?”

He hmmed gently pulling her warm body closer to his before resting his chin atop her head. “I have no idea honestly, from all I remember of the history lessons I received as a child. Elvhenan was over here somewhere. But I suppose how else can we explain these new Elves? What do you think?”

“Do you not think it strange that they come here, claiming a Blight in their lands? How did the Darkspawn get there and what is the Archdemon we will face? Is it even one of our gods or,” she paused, biting her lower lip, “or one of theirs?”

Smiling softly he lifted her chin and kissed her bitten lips softly. “Now that’s something I don’t want to think about. The Thaigs the Darkspawn abandoned go for many miles underground and a lot of them cross paths with volcanic tubes, so maybe the monsters just kept digging and hunting until they found Endor?”

“Maybe,” the woman replied, but she didn’t seem convinced. Kissing him back and sighing in content, she closed her eyes, hoping to catch another half hour of sleep but there was a sharp rapping on the door. Looking up into Zad’s eyes, she huffed, seeming to read his expression before he could fully formulate an answer. “I guess I should start getting ready for today otherwise whoever is trying to barge in will catch us like this again. I’d rather not face your father so soon after last time.”

Zadkiel chuckled, rolling his lover over, pinning her hands down upon the bed gently. “It’s just the Steward coming to see if I’m awake. You don’t have to leave yet, like you said might be our last time alone for a long time.” Settled deeper atop her, his voice a little husky.

“You think the Steward doesn’t report back to the Commander?” Elissa gave in to his advances, smiling up at him and raising an eyebrow however she didn’t pursue the topic, instead reaching up to kiss her man’s lips, biting the lower one teasingly. “I’m glad that you’re coming with me.”

He smiled more, settling atop the woman wrapping his arms around her fondly. “And I you Eli, no one I’d rather have watching my back. As for the Commander finding out? What of it? Think he’ll ground us like children and forbid us from going to fight a Blight?” He kissed her deeply one last time. “But that’s enough talk, let’s enjoy ourselves one last time like normal people before we need to remember we’re Wardens.”

She smiled against his kiss, arms wrapping around his neck and her fingers running through his hair. What he said was true - what could the Commander do if they were leaving for an unknown land in a matter of hours? Ban her from not going? He may as well sign her death warrent then. Pulling herself closer to his bare chest, she let him lead this intimate dance, once again wondering how it was that she ended up with such a man.


~An hour or so later~

The rustling of clothes and soft clanking of armor filled Zad’s room in Vigil’s Keep. He and Elissa were working in quiet diligence preparing their kits for the long trip to Endor. Mumbling to himself Zad was wrestling with one of the straps of his breastplate. “Ugh, I think I pulled something with that last round...hehe… can’t twist very far.”
“Is the Constable of the Grey finally admitting to his age?” Elissa smiled as she put the last of her vials into their special holders across her belt. Blowing away an annoying strand of red hair, she straightened and stretched, playfully catching Zad’s gaze and giving him a wink. “Don’t worry love, that last round was quite something.”

The warrior laughed watching the fiery redhead twist and tease him as he finally caught the strap tightening it and feeling the familiar hug of his red steel armor around him. “You’re only four years behind me my love, you’ll get there soon enough.” He moved to her and lifted out a bit of worn green ribbon from the night stand and helped Eli tie her hair back so it wouldn’t drape in front of her face.

“I feel like an old maid often enough, I don’t need a reminder,” Elissa laughed, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. “Seeing some of the young recruits, I wonder what drew some of them to this life.”

Returning her kiss, he went to grab a large cloak that was hanging on the door of his wardrobe before stuffing it into his rucksack. “I’ve often asked myself the same thing, there hasn’t been a Darkspawn sighting in over four years, and even though we all now know why. The Commander has broken his back to keep that information from crossing as many lips as possible.” With a soft grunt he tightened all the straps of his pack and placed it on his desk alongside his other bag. “In training I’ve heard a few of them say the Warden’s have regained some of their former glory and they want the perks that come with taking up our mantle.” He laughed and shook his head. “You know the short life full of fighting, exclusion, and an inevitable grisly death .” Grabbing a couple of journals, he tucked them into the side pockets of his pack.

“Had I known it would mean meeting someone like you, I would have reconsidered,” Elissa muttered under her breath, folding her clean clothes neatly and putting them inside her pack, hiding her blazing gaze from Zad. It wasn’t that she ever pictured marriage or love in her future - the day she had decided to become a Warden, she had said goodbye to all her infatuations and desires. It was a small sacrifice to benefit the world and rid it of evil. Zad had just...fallen into her life and, try as she might to push away, she did allow herself a few times to wonder if they could have had a future in another life. Shaking her head at her thoughts, she looked up. “At the very least, we now have a chance to die like true Wardens. Facing the Darkspawn head on, not waiting for the slow decay of time and the Taint.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes dying with a blade in my hand and a cause behind me is one of the greatest deaths I can picture. Warden or no.” He moved back to her side and helped her finish packing, more so wishing for closeness with her again than actually thinking she needed help. Romance was never something he took much notice of. Before he even underwent the Joining, he was raised as a Warden, fighting, learning, preparing for a glorious death before he became an old man. But two Wardens can’t have a child without a lot of extra work...and not that kind of work...his mother was a former Bard from Orlais. And she did her best to sneak in lessons of things like romance and intrigue when the young man wasn’t being drilled in swordplay or learning the best place to hit an Ogre to get a quick kill. But even those lessons were few and far between, even more so after she passed many winters ago. This left a strange...longing within him, but like everything else in his life his inevitable future as a Warden pushed thoughts of finding a wife and beginning a family aside because he already knew he’d die before he learned the joys of being a grandparent. So when Eli joined the Order a few years after him he found an answer to that longing in her. As he reached the bottom of her clothes pile he smirked and held up a pair of black lacy undies to her. “So how did this hot little Orlesian item get here love?”

“Those were supposed to be a surprise,” Elissa snatched them back, playfully swatting at her partner. “Something special for your birthday but I guess you couldn’t wait a day or two. Typical Zad.” Their usual playful banter came without much effort, a defense mechanism against the future, knowing that once they were back in the field fighting Darkspawn, there would be no guarantee either of them would return from a scrimmage. When the Commander’s orders came to all who were to depart to Endor, she didn’t give them more than a quick glance, tossing the scroll to the bottom of the bag. From the few things that caught her eyes, she wasn’t exactly optimistic about the outcome of their trip. Four years...It wasn’t long but she feared she had gotten rusty when it came to sensing Darkspawn. It scared her but she hadn’t even brought it up to Zad, constantly persuading herself that Ferelden was finally experiencing peace and the next Blight would be beyond her years. Now...she didn’t want to think about it.

“Those Elves do not seem like any I have met,” she mused, thinking back to her brief encounters with the Endoran delegation. She had been late to arrive, traveling back from the Free Marches only a few days ago and spending most of her time sleeping and resting. Even so, the few interactions she had proved that these beings were not like anyone she had met. They were old and resonated a hidden power that didn’t seem natural to Elves. Their eyes held knowledge of years beyond count and they carried themselves with airs that would make even the highest nobles of Orlais appear like mere commoners. “Do you think the people they spoke of will be as strange as them?”

He smiled as she snatched the undies back and stashed them in the very bottom of her bag. He was already picturing his lover’s fit Tempest body hugged into the sensual little garments, but he moved back letting her finish her bag in peace as he returned to his own packing. Her words resonated with him, he had talked more with the Endoran Elves. And even then they were a mystery. “I know, not even the few Elves we have in Vigil’s Keep know what to make of them. Even if they aren’t related to our Elves, these Enodrans are what I always pictured the Dalish ancestors being when they were still around. Their leader Laurenas says she’s actually considered more of a Commoner than a Noble herself so that speaks volumes to what we can expect once we land.” He tied the last straps and tightened the last buckles of his bags before he carried them to the door thunking the heavy things down. “There’s Men and Dwarves over there from what she told me. But even they seem to be more noble than our own. Imagine that...a whole continent full of noble knights and mighty warriors who don’t bother with idiotic squabbles like “The Game.” Not sure if we should feel honored or be worried they’ll see us as primitive savages.” He laughed walking back to her leaning against the bedpost.

“I grew up in the place that is quite frequently referred to as the Backwater of the Marches. I Think you will do much better than me,” Elissa teased as she moved to put her warm Warden cloak into the bag, a few light tomes and, much to the man’s amusement, a barely started embroidery piece. It was a hobby that she never had much passion for but considering how much time they were to spend on the boat, she decided it was good practice. Besides, the design sketched roughly on the fabric was one her grandmother etched with her own hand and now knowing she would not see Thalia Aurum again, it seemed like the proper tribute to the woman who replaced her mother. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she swept her gaze around it. “They didn’t mention anything about the Qunari?”

He shook his head slowly picked up the woman’s bags and placed them besides his own. “No...at least not how we know them. When the Qunari were described to the Endorans they thought we meant something called...Or...Orcs? Whatever the hell those are, but when they saw Grif they had no clue what he was. I think one of them said that’s "the prettiest Orc I’ve ever seen" actually.” He laughed sitting down besides her. “Imagine how much that made Grif’s day?”

“The first time I saw Grif I wasn’t sure what he was. Have you ever seen anyone devouring a whole three tiered chocolate cake by themselves?” Elissa grinned, remembering the scene. “I wasn’t sure what to make of him. Although if he is the prettiest Orc they have ever seen, I am not certain I have the imagination to picture a regular looking one. Speaking of Grif - you did make him aware about the time we were leaving?”

“Haha I’ve seen Barqspawn give the big oxman a run for his money. While you were away they challenged each other to an eating contest to show the Elves how good our food was. Had to stop them before they ate up everything in our larders.” The Champion then stood up and pulled the woman up after him laying his hand upon her hip. “He’s even more of an early bird than me, he’s probably been busy making our provisions since before dawn. But we’ll be leaving with the morning tide, so let’s head to the armory and make sure we have all our weapons ready.”

“I still do not understand how either of you can be awake at such bloody early hours,” she responded, interlacing her fingers with his and letting him lead the way out of the room.

He laughed holding her close, giving her one final kiss before they left. The Paiges and new recruits would be along to bring their gear to the docks shortly. “Because we’re a couple of sad old men who can’t sleep very long.”

“Speak for yourself.” A vaguely deep voice said as they left the bedroom. “I’m only 11.” The big man was sprawled comfortable in a chair in Zad’s sitting room. “Your old man wanted me to wake you up.”

The rogue’s sudden voice made Zad jump a little before he let out a low laugh. “Yes, a 7 foot tall, 11 year old, that can carry a hundred pound beer keg in one hand. How silly of me to forget, so been waiting out here the whole time huh?”

Grif smirked, “I know, aren't you glad my people haven’t tried conquering the world?” He then shook his head to the Constable’s question. “Nah, maybe 20 minutes or so. Though had you made me wait any long I woulda opened the door and let that monster into your room.” He motioned to the corner near the door where Barqspawne chewed a damp rubber ball.

“Oh my god, who is a good puppy?!” Ignoring the two men in the room, Elissa rushed over to give the Mabari a pat, smiling and cooing over him as she rubbed his ears. Growing up in a family of avid hunters and huge Mabari lovers, she was unable to ignore any dog that came in her path. Barqspawne was one of her favorites. “How have you been, big guy? I have missed you, you know that? Such a smart boy.”

Zadkiel laughed as he was promptly abandoned in favor of his dog. “Well glad you abstained doing that, then we might've never left the room. So are you all packed and ready for this Grif? Not sure you’ll like the food in Endor. I’ve tried some of the Elves’ and it tastes far too strange for my own liking. Sweet and bland at the same time and that’s just their Lamb-base bread.” Crossing his arms the Champion kicked the door of his bedroom shut and leaned against it watching Eli and Barq.

The dog stopped chewing and rolled over, the ball gripped in his teeth. His short tail wagging. Grif chuckled. “No, he’d just had a bunch of water so was about 80% drool at the time. I’m sure that would have gotten you out of the room quickly.”

He smirked and shrugged. “Actually the bread isn't bad. They did seem a little shocked when I asked for more though. Guess it’s supposed to fill one up. And packed I am. Packing is easy for me.” He motioned to his nearby bag, and armored self.

“And is Sir Barqspawne all packed up? Are you ready for an adventure?” Elissa grinned, rubbing the muscular chest of the animal and ignoring the drops of slobber that ended up on her hands. Listening to the men’s conversation, she raised an eyebrow. It was a mystery exactly how much food could fit into the bottomless pit of the Qunari’s stomach. Knowing about the recent food contest, she did wonder how the strange Elves perceived such a spectacle.

The warrior laughed. “You’d think watching you eat half a castle’s supply of food would’ve told them that much already.” Looking out the nearby window he pushed himself off the wall and began walking down the hallway again. “Either way shall we go fetch our weapons now? I think the Commander wants to give us some kind of last minute pep talk or have a Mother from the Chantry bless us with the blood of Andraste or something before we go. Though I don’t know if the Maker has any power in Endor, Laurenas and her Elves seemed lost whenever he was mentioned.”

As his master began walking away the slobbery hound jumped up and licked Elissa’s face in answer to her questions before he gently gripped her sleeve and began pulling her after Zad. Laughing and ruffling the dog’s fur, Elissa followed along, speaking softly to the Mabari as the group made their way to the armory. As they passed a few recruits, the youths bowed slightly as a sign of respect. Elissa reflected back on the conversation she had with Zad earlier that day. Would any of them be coming on the ships to Endor? Did they truly understand what was happening, the full weight of their decision to pledge to the Order or did they, much like herself, want to become another hero in the tapestry of history?

Carrying on in companionable silence the four Wardens reached the Armory and quickly found their weapons each one stained with blood or nicked from fights with both Darkspawn and Bandits in their long runs with the Wardens. Grif’s pair of cutlasses sparked as he picked them up and spun them artfully around his hands before they slid snuggly into their sheaths at his hips. Elissa’s twin daggers were barely seen before she cleverly stashed them in their usual places and her bow slung over her shoulder just as quickly. And lastly Zadkiel lifted his twin swords up with an almost reverent air, the one glistened with it’s Silverite Rune and the other simply glistened from a long life of careful maintenance.

The last thing he picked up was his family’s shield. It personally saved his father’s life once upon a time and hopefully it would save Zadkiel's should that time come. Once everything was secure, they left the Armory passing quiet jokes back and forth as Eli threw Barq’s ball down the hall, watching him faithfully fetch it and return it. They pushed past the large doors of the keep and felt the warm fingers of the sun upon their faces. None of them knew when the next time they would feel the Ferelden sun, so they walked slowly to the docks soaking up as much of it as they could before they’d be trapped below decks crossing the treacherous sea to Endor.

As Zadkiel predicted, the Commander of the Grey Raziel Cousland was already there waiting for them alongside the Endoran Elves on the docks. On the shore behind them no less than a hundred Legionnaires on loan from Orzammar and a clan-sized group of Dalish Elves stood packed and at the ready. And a little ways behind them a collection of Warden Mages called in from Orlais were approaching their own bags and gear on horses behind them. Like any other time a Blight threatens the mortal plane it took a collection of nations to defeat it and who said the Endorans should be the only ones supplying those nations? This group would likely be causing all kinds of rumors and stirrings among the gentlefolk of Theadas, but that is why many of the current Wardens were staying behind with only the most experienced being chosen to come along and fight this Endoran Blight.

Once everyone was assembled Raziel stood upon a small stage looking equal parts embarrassed as honored. He was never one for big speeches, but he knew this was a historic time that required some kind of speech.
“My friends, today you are embarking on debatably the most historic event in the history of the Wardens. Maybe even in the whole of Thedas, Blights have always been our curses to bear and we bared them superbly through our chaotic history. But now our curse has spread to parts of our world we never even knew existed. The People of Endor are experiencing it right now and these noble Elves have journeys far beyond their own lands to find help...and they found us. We are that help and how can we call ourselves honorable or just if we do not do all we can to help them? Now I will not insult any of you by lying or giving you false hope. This mission will be as dangerous a task as any of you have undertaken and some of you may not be coming back. Your remains will be brought back home that I can promise you and your name will live on in the annals of history forever. While all of you may not be Wardens, you have proven your bravery here today and I will end this little pep talk with a prayer of sorts that every recruit hears before they undertake the Joining. “The Grey Wardens hold a lonely vigil, enduring lives of hardship and sacrifice to protect the world from an evil that can never truly be conquered. Few would volunteer for this: the suffering, isolation, and promise of a violent death. But the path of a Warden is also one of valor, and those who give themselves to the cause are rewarded with the knowledge that they have become something more than they were. “ As Commander of the Grey I give all you not already part of our Order the title of Warden-Ensign and welcome you to our Order!”

Cheers erupted among the Legion and Dalish with congratulatory claps from the normal Wardens present. Once it all died down the Commander stepped off his little stage and shook hands with Laurenas and each one of her comrades bidding them safe journey and the best of luck defeating the Blight. He then went off to oversee the last minutes details before the group set sail. The group intermingled enjoying their final few minutes on solid land before everyone’s bags and supplies were loaded aboard.

[Breggo13]

Nienor sat on the ledge of her window, observing the white city below her and the Pelennor fields beyond with a far-off gaze. The cool stone of the citadel was growing colder as the sun hid behind the horizon, making the distant Ephel Duath peaks turn to an angry red, the colour of blood. From her vantage point, it was impossible to make out the details of the mountain range and the darkness beyond it but regardless of where she looked, distant fires were blazing, signaling various groups of warriors preparing for another night they hoped to survive. On the walls of Minas Tirith, the lights were light one at a time, each tier of the city erupting in dancing flames. Further in the Pelennor fields, small fortresses connecting the outer wall flickered into existence, the beacons of hope. Hope that was dwindling fast in the realm of Men.

Hugging her knees to her chest, the young woman allowed her tumble of black hair to fall over her face, obscuring the view. Four years...She had always pictured herself to be a warrior, to gain valor on the battlefield and be sung into the legends of old. From her first lesson with the sword, she had an unexplainable longing to hold the weapon and stand shoulder to shoulder with her brothers in arms, rising up against the threat of the East or the South, pushing back tides of Easterners and Corsairs. She had been looking forward to her first tournament, her first opportunity to prove her worth and her skill. She trained each and every day to be the best, to bring honour to her uncle and to be ready for whatever was to come. What childish dreams those were! An angry tear managed to race down her cheek, leaving behind a hot wet trail. Four years ago, the world was different…

Now, Nienor was ready to hang up her sword. She was ready to forget the vile scent of men and monster insides spilling onto the ground from the swing of her sword. She wanted to stop burying her friends and looking at the wounded, knowing there was absolutely nothing on this Earth that would save them. Four years, she had seen men - brave, fearless soldiers - leave the gates of Minas Tirith, few to be seen again. Most were ripped apart, those wounded were dragged away. The few who came back couldn’t even be called deserters for how could anyone blame them for wanting to fight another day? Slowly, the ancient defenses of Gondor were starting to fall as the Wrong spread from the East, climbing over or under Ephel Duath and Ered Lithui, destroying everything in their path. Fire and swords only stopped them for so long yet each night, the hordes came back, relentless as they pushed forward.

In the fading daylight, the distant city of Osgiliath cast shadows towards the dark mountain ranges, barely visible against its backdrop. The sight of it made Nienor’s heart tighten - the old city, rebuilt by her predecessor King Aragorn II, was once again under constant siege, its magnificent walls covered in marks and stains, reminders of the fights gone by. If by some miracle the city would stand the Wrong until the end, she wasn’t sure the stains would be removed but would remain for generations to come. All but the soldiers have already been evacuated from the city-fortress, some staying in Minas Tirith but most continuing to the Western lands of Gondor and South to Dol Amroth. As Beren had told her a few years back, Osgiliath now resembled the camp his own predecessor struggled to protect in the late third age during the War of the Ring.

A cool breeze flew through her open window, ruffling the fine silk curtain and pulling at her dress, slipping under the skirts and causing goosebumps to cover her legs. Shuddering, the young woman turned away from the darkening landscape, looking down at her clasped hands, grasping the cord of her Palantir fragment, the smooth piece of blue glass-like material echoing the shadows from the outside. The thin leather cord that usually attached the stone to her belt wrapped tightly around her wrist, resembling a crude bracelet. Slowly, her voice barely above a whisper, she heard herself remembering an old song she loved so much.


Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing;
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea.

The verses were old, a story tied to a time when Osgiliath was barely a century old and Minas Tirith was not even a fleeting thought. Gil-Galad, an elven king of old, a lord among his people, a friend of Men and a protector of the right. Gil-Galad who died in the Battle of Mordor, leading the last alliance of men and leading up to the initial destruction of Sauron who took years and years to come into some sort of consciousness. A hero who faced the dark straight on and stood side by side with all who fought the fight. Now, a new threat has arisen and with it new heroes. Men, elves, dwarves...orcs and goblins and Uruk-hai. There was distrust and hatred, blood feuds stretching to the end of the third age but a common enemy has forced an alliance of armies for the mere survival of middle earth.


His sword was long, his lance was keen.
His shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.

She had learned the heraldry of every single noble house from across Gondor and even most of the orcish clans at this point. In a war against mindless monsters, the armies coming to aid were friends no matter where they came from. A few times help came to her from Uruk-hai, their vicious nature and grotesque forms making her stomach turn but she stood shoulder to shoulder with them, pushing away any logic she had to survive the Wrong. A few times, she came to the call of the horn that sent goosebumps running down her spine, remembering the same call in Orcish raids in the past. As soon as the Wrong disappeared, both groups patched up their own and left, rarely exchanging any words among themselves. The most she ever spoke was with a young Uruk Hai warrior but even then, there was a huge level of discomfort.


But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star --

“In Mordor where the shadows are,” Nienor whipped around, startled by the melodic male voice finishing up the third couplet. Leaning against the door frame, a tall man crossed his hand over his chest, watching her with amused blue eyes. The plain uniform of Gondor was misleading, a bow strapped to his back and a sword hanging from his belt. “I thought I would find you here.”

“It is my room - where else would I be?” The young woman raised an eyebrow. Laughing, the giant walked forward, pushing his golden locks out of his eyes.

“I see your good mood has not returned,” Beren chuckled, stopping beside her and looking out into the dim landscape. For a few moments, the pair observed the view, each thinking about their own. “I haven’t heard you sing since Hilgard passed a month ago. His death affected you hard.”

“Each death affects me the same,” Nienor shrugged before looking at her friend. “His aligned with a great many burials.”

“If you are asking me to believe he was just another death for you, you are lying only to yourself,” his blue eyes met her green ones. “Do not lie to yourself, Nienor.”

“If I do not, how can I carry on?” her words were no more than a whisper. “How can I continue knowing that one day soon - tonight, tomorrow or in a fortnight - one of us may not be coming home? How can I allow myself the time to grief when each night there are fewer and fewer who return?”

“You cannot hold onto that grief forever,” Beren looked down, breaking their eye contact. “One day, I will grow old and withered. I will draw my last breath and perish. You - you have the blood of the elves running through you, Elessar blood. You will live for years after. If you hold onto that grief, you will be miserable.”

“I have as much a chance as you to die before that ever comes to pass,” Nienor responded with a sad smile. “With this plague to hit the land, no one can be certain how long they have anymore.”

“Another reason not to hold to grief and to enjoy each day as it comes. Are you joining us on the walls tonight?”

“Aye, in a bit,” she waved at her current wear. “One of use does not get to attend the White Citadel court dressed for war.”

“I’m sure your uncle would understand given the reality,” Beren offered, fixing his tunic. “After all, you are more often out with the rest of the men than attending a banquet.”

“His majesty wants the court life to continue in a manner that gives light and hope. I cannot blame him for his attempts to raise morale,” Nienor moved so that her bare feet landed softly on the carpet covering wooden floors. Standing up, she took one more look into the night sky before closing the window, blocking the cool air from entering the room. “Soon enough, what remains of our old life will end. He is planning to send us to Dol Amroth with the rest of the refugees. Minas Tirith will become the next fortress after Osgiliath.”

“Just get dressed, milady,” Beren smirked, tossing her the tunic draped across a chair as he headed back to the door. “I will see you on the walls.”

“Bumbling half-troll,” Nienor swore half-heartedly. Standing up, she stretched before locking the door on the inside, a light precaution to avoid anyone bursting in as she began to change. Although she doubted anyone else being as bold as her friend to enter her chambers without knocking, depending on the night and the war, messengers from her uncle would arrive at all hours, banging on the doors and averting their eyes when she greeted them in her nightshirt. Struggling with the ties for a few minutes, Nienor finally loosened the top dress enough to shimmy it off, ending up in the under gown. That one came off easier and she slipped into her usual gear, sliding the tunic atop of her chainmail and sliding her sword over her back. Grasping her Palantir stone, she slipped it over her head, tucking it under the chain main. Grabbing her arm guards, she left the room at a brisk pace.

The halls of the White Citadel felt abandoned - it seemed that life had been drained from within the ancient walls, sapping at the lifeline of the elder halls a drop at a time. Her steps echoed in the tall corridors, passing closed doors and dimmed lights. The eerie silence was unnerving - Nienor could hear her breathing bouncing off the walls. Trying not to let it get to her, the young woman picked up her pace, pushing into the courtyard. As she turned towards the path leading to the lower ring, she glanced at the White Tree, rising tall in the courtyard. Smiling sadly to herself, she turned away, continuing to the lowest walls of the city.

As she passed by the streets, people stopped and moved out of her way. A few reached out to touch her armour. Smiling and nodding her head in acknowledgement, stopping to grasp the hands of a few elders gently and exchanging a few words with them, Nienor remembered the first time something like this had occurred - the people of the city wanting to touch her as though she was a ghost. She felt uncomfortable and bewildered as hands reached out, trying not to break into a run to escape. It wasn’t until she brought it up to her uncle that he explained to her why it was happening - people wanted assurance. Assurance that someone could go out and return and who better than the king’s beloved niece? After that talk, Nienor took some time to think but now, she tried to talk to as many as she could, reassure and inspire all that wanted something real to hold onto. On some nights, her walk to the wall took twice as long as she took the time to support her people.

“The gods watch over you, Lady Nienor,” the old woman grasped her hands with her old frail ones, shaking slightly. The young lady felt tears pricking her eyes but she held strong, only nodding in gratitude as the elder slowly let go, hugging her black shawl closer around her frail body. She didn’t stop by as she continued on, walking briskly towards the main gates of the white city. As the guards saw her approaching, they brought out a horse, saddled and ready to go, snorting in the night as his ears twitched, catching distant sounds. Running her hand down the velvety nose, Nienor looked up at the flag of Gondor, flapping in the wind, snapping as it straightened with a distinct echo, resembling the flick of a whip.

“It appears a quiet night today, my Lady,” one of the cornets approached her, the white tree emblem shining a pale silver in the night. “There have been no messengers from the Rammas Echor and no pigeons from the Causeway Forts.”

“Did Lord Beren leave for the Forts then?” Nienor asked, slipping on a pair of thin riding gloves. The cornet nodded, keeping a steady grip on the horse’s reins as the animal shifted back and forth. “Has there been any new orders passed down from the High King?”

“None my Lady,” the cornet declined, standing on the right side to hold her stirrup as the warrior swung up, waiting for her to find her comfort in the saddle. “We had a new eored arrive a few days ago - they are ready to replace the one currently at the Causeway. They asked to ride with you.”

“Who’s eored has come to take their stand?” Nienor stroked the strong neck of the dark bay, her eyes looking down into the man’s.

“Judging by the sigil, the eored of the lord of Fenmarch,” he responded, evoking a look of surprise from the girl. “Do you know him, my Lady?”

“We have met before although I know him poorly. Where are they waiting?”

“Beyond the gates. Good speed - I won’t hold you any longer. May the sun shine upon you in the morrow,” Nienor didn’t respond, the farewell weighing her down like a stone. Would the sun still shine tomorrow or would it plunge into eternal darkness like she so often dreamed, removing all hope for survival? She had spent hours looking at ancient books and manuscripts, trying to read about Mordor as it was when the dark lords ruled the East. There were tales of red clouds covering the sky, providing a shield from the sun for the dark swarms of Mordor, allowing them to move further away from the dark gates. Although it was claimed that the unnatural darkness belonged to the powers of Sauron and before him Morgoth, she wondered if the flying demon circling the remains of Orodriumth possessed the same attributes.

Shortening her reins, she pushed her horse forward, his horseshoes clanking on the stones of the courtyard as the heavy gates of Gondor opened for her to ride through, the men giving her the same sad looks that she had gotten so accustomed to receiving each time she rode out of the White City. In all honesty, she was just as guilty of giving those same glances to all who left for Pelennor Fields and beyond. As her mount brought her at an energetic walk out into the open plains, she tried not to think about anything but the next few hours, subconsciously gripping her stone under the light mail shirt.

“Hail thee well, Nienor daughter of Leod,” Nienor smiled, not turning her head as a band of men dressed in the green and gold of the Riddermark closed in beside her, one of the warriors riding up beside her, his helm making it difficult to make out his features. Only the mark of a leader made it clear who she was talking to.

“It has been a long time since I was addressed as such, Elftheort son of Elfdarn,” she responded quietly. “In these lands, I am referred to as -”

“As Nienor Elessar,” the man responded, reigning in his steed to walk side by side with hers. “I watched you grow up girl and you will always be a Rohirim by blood, like it or not. You were born in the saddle with the fair wind in your hair and the heart of a true warrior.”

“I am an Elessar,” Nienor countered, glaring down at her hands. “And darn proud to be one.”

“Surely stubborn as one,” Elftheort snorted. “Why you push away a part of yourself is beyond me child.”

“We’re wasting breath,” Nienor retorted, squeezing her horse into a gallop. The men were not a second behind, the sound of a hundred horses snorting and heaving spreading across the land. It wasn’t fair to say they were alone - the fields of Pelennor flat as they were provided a fantastic view to see other mixed groups heading out to the various defenses across the huge exterior wall. Seeing as the Causeway Forts were the furthest away from the city, most who so desired rode horses to ensure they could provide aid where it was most needed. Over the centuries, the Rammas Echor grew in size and strength, rebuilt and repaired as needed after the historical Battle of the Pelennor Fields. White and impenetrable, made from the stone of the White Mountains and fortified long ago by the dwarves of Erebor, the outer defences standing tall and proud against the Wrong. The last defense of Gondor.

“Make way for the eored! Open the gates!” As the cavalcade approached the Southern fort, there came calls and signals of lanterns, the inner gates opening for the riders to come in, gathering in the tight courtyard, horses moving against each other still fired up after the four league gallop. Turning her horse in a circle and trying to take in everything at once, Nienor saw the tired eyes of men and dwarves, a few orcs and even a couple women. As a warrior came to take her horse, she slipped off and started towards the keep, clasping hands with a few commanders as they followed her, most knowing that there would be a brief war counsel before the usual attack of the Wrong. She saw Elftheort follow along, hugging another Rider of Rohan as he went, the two conversing in their tongue.

“You finally made it,” Beren grinned from his seat near the head of the large table, feet resting on top the stone and lazily carving a piece of wood with his knife. From the embarrassed looks the officers already in the room gave her, it seemed that the young man was not in as good a mood as he seemed.

“What is it?” Nienor’s tone immediately became void of emotions, ready to hear the worst and determine the right plan.

“Shall I start with the good news or the great news commander?”

[SikstaSlathalin]

The moors outside of Minas Tirith, on a field of blood and death.



“Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day
To seek our pale enchanted gold.” A dwarf’s low droning voice echoed along the small improvised ramparts around the Free People’s camp no more than half a mile from the very walls of the Rammas Echor. A bad skirmish, as has always been the case in the most recent months of the Invasions of the Wrong, turned into a bloody battle where inches are fought like miles. Only the truly mad or those with a death wish go into these battles with hopes of them staying simple.

“The dwarves of yore made mighty spells
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep
In hollow halls beneath the fells.” No sleep, scarce food, and the screams of the infected warriors before the Surgeon put them out of their misery. For old vets like Jagmar though, the silence has always been worse than the screams. This skirmish has been going for the better part of a week, the monsters never seem to lose numbers. He’s personally killed sixty some of the freaks himself and you’d never know by looking.

“For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.” The call of a crow put an end to the Bounty Hunter’s singing. Lifting his hand Sorbel alighted upon the outstretched finger carrying a note attached to his leg. Taking the note the old Dwarf spat a wad of chewing tobacco onto the helm of a sleeping guard. The glob hit like a stone causing the young man to jump up and nearly trip over his own spear. Luckily Jagmar caught it as it sailed through the air aimed for his chest.

Quickly snatching the projectile from the air the Dwarf quickly smacked the young man with the butt of his own weapon. “Awaken young fool, if I was one of the Wrong you’d be a feast by now. I am being summoned to the Commander’s Tent.” With that Jagmar shouldered his halberd and began walking up the steep hills towards Lord Beren’s tent.

Two other crows flew across the allies camp, one heading for the front line and the other towards the Orcish camp.

Lu had quietly sheltered herself in the shadows of the trees well out of reach of her kin’s encampment but close enough that she could hear the orcs lively feasting on what they had caught and scavenged, possibly from the battlefield itself. She drew her lips in a disgusted hiss before turning her attention back towards the wall, She was certain she could catch the low tune of a Dwarven voice but she could not make out the words.
She had come to admire the voices of the other races since being forced into close proximity with them. She particularly liked the low thrum of male Dwarven voices while human voices seemed to be varied among its members. Much more soothing to listen to then the rough growls and shouts of her Orcish kin. Even so she preferred the company of nature's silence in the night.
These lands were certainly much more to look at than Mordor, provided much more shelter and a host more to eat, that was for certain. But they were certainly not welcome here and she didn’t blame the other races for that. She hardly liked being around her own kind as it was.
Lushak’s attention was brought up to the sky. Through the thick foliage of the leaves she could just make out the stars overhead, and the soft rustle as a shadow passed across her vision. A bird? A black bird at that. She turned her attention towards the Orc encampment hearing a high pitched caw followed by the usual uproar of the male orcs. Stupid bird.
The she-Orc picked herself up from the shadows as a second caw was cut short. She picked her way slowly and stealthily through the brush. It had taken some time to adjust to the new landscape but she had quickly learned how to move pretty quietly even with the soft rustle of leaves underfoot.
She could hear the male Orcs searching the surrounding area, mumbling about more fresh meat. If they found her so close by they would be mumbling about more than just food. Still her curiosity peaked as she caught something flailing under a nearby bush. So easily spotted if it wasn’t for her less observant kins frantic searching.
Upon closer inspection it was a good sized black bird. It cawed weakly at her as she approached, but she pinched its beak shut with a small frown. Stranger still there was a white bit of paper tied around its leg. Curious. She scooped up the bird, pinning its wings as it struggled before she tucked it under her cloak and quietly began to move away once again, just in time to as a male Orc tramped through not a few moments later.
The bird’s muffled squawking was further quieted under her cloak as she picked up the pace till she was safely away from the encampment once again. Once she was satisfied with the distance she pulled the bird from her cloak. It cawed at her as she released its beak. She looked around before moving further where the moonlight allowed her better vision.
The bird was obviously injured, its little chest heaving. Normally she would have little issue with eating such a creature but the parchment tied to its leg spoke of its importance to someone. She carefully untied the note and unfolded it, Her understanding of the written language was basic at best but with a little bit of time she was able to understand the jist of the note.
It was summoning an Orc to some important figures tent. She couldn’t help thinking that they clearly hadn’t thought this through. She turned her attention back to the bird, laying on its side. It appeared that one of its legs was broken, perhaps a wing as well. It probably would not be wise to eat it, and whether or not it was wise to go to the tent she was not sure, but clearly none of her kin would be going.
Lu took her time in tending to the bird as she contemplated whether or not she should take the summons seriously or discard it as the other Orcs would. She really didn’t have an interest in meeting this man up close, or anyone for that matter. But… she was curious. Her internal struggle between her curious nature and her caution knowing their hostility towards her people was eventually won out as the crow was settled into its wrappings.
There was no way the bird could make it back to its master on its own. She sighed for a moment remaining in the moonlight for a little longer before she once again scooped up the bird and started towards the hill. Somewhere she would find the tent of this important person who had summoned her.

Frontlines

“Oi, Jocko!” Shouts a man’s voice from atop a barricade.

“What do you want, Haskil? I just got back from almost dying trying to scout the caves for wherever these bastards come from.” An indignant and somewhat drunk sounding Hobbit answered from around a nearby fire.

A man’s head poked over the catwalk tossing a crumpled up note that landed lightly at the drunken Hafling's feet. “Messenger crow came from Lord Beren and Lady Nienor, they needed volunteers for the Gray Docks welcome crew. And you just got elected for it.” Haskil’s voice laughed before going back to watching the walls.

Jocko Took (https://i.imgur.com/9cM7NDO.jpg) picked up the note swaying lightly on his feet trying to read the note through one eye. “Fuckin’ longshanks.” He grumbled, tossing the note into the fire and grabbing his two swords sloppily slinging them over his shoulder, stumbling his way towards the center of the camp.

Despite the fighting the walk wasn’t very long, but as he approached he saw a sight he wasn't sure was there. A young She-Orc skulking about carrying a messenger crow. He’d never been that drunk but as he tried to hail her he tripped over his own two feet and fell down the small hill into the Orcess. “Well…*hic* guess…*huc* Guess you are real.”

Lu’s instincts were telling her this was an awful idea as she moved from one tent shadow to the next avoiding men and ducking back into the shadows as they passed. They were easy enough when they wore such heavy suits of armor, no stealth so easy enough to out maneuver in the dark. However as she was preparing to cross a rather large open area within the camp, she just caught the sound of something falling.

She turned, but not in enough time to avoid the collision. She crashed to the ground as the tumbling halfling knocked into her legs leaving them both on the ground. She drew her breath in a soft hiss as she looked around before looking to the man as he spoke. Was he dying? Or was this what race of men called being drunk? The bird squawked once more as it flailed lightly on the ground with its one good wing.
Scooping it up once more and trying to quit it by pinching its beak closed, she sat on her knees for a moment looking down at the short drunk being. “If you have to question your eyes, perhaps you have drunk too much.” She said finally in a low deep tone before getting back to her feet as she reached back and pulled the mask of her hood over her face effectively hiding it.

Jocko laughed rolling around for a few seconds before he staggered to his feet. “You can never drunk too much my fine Orcy lass.” Staggering lightly he picked up a little slip of paper and unrolled it slowly mumbling it to himself. “Hehhehehe...looks like someone else is being summoned to play escort.” He gripped the Orc woman’s cloak and began pulling her towards the leader’s tent. “Come on lassie can’t leave the human waiting too...long they get brown...and…*hic* crusty like a spud left out in the...in the...sun...too…*hic” long.”

That was a first, even among the Orcs she has never been considered ’fine’. But she chalked it up to the fact that the little man must be drunk and therefore had poor judgment on fine. But as she looked back at him and noticed the note within his hands she frowned. “Escort?” That would mean there were indeed others, This was in fact very unwise then. But before she could think more more about leaving, the Halfling grabbed her cloak and began to pull her through the camp. For someone so small he was surprisingly strong. “I don’t think this is wise.” she said quietly attempting to pull herself free as her eyes cast about for signs of trouble, which likely if she was spotted by anyone else who wasn’t drunk there would be.

Laughing still Jocko heedlessly pulled her through the camp Men, Dwarves, and the few Elves watched them go, but no one bothered to stop them as soon as they saw where the strange pair was headed. No one was dumb enough to mess with the Brass’s antics.

“A fine battle that one,” the tall blonde grinned, lowering himself awkwardly into his chair. Nienor followed along, tossing her weapons onto the table and crossing her arms in annoyance. Her face was covered in dirt, highlighting her green eyes. “They are becoming more bold.”
“You are becoming more reckless,” Nienor’s voice was cold, a stark contrast to her companion’s bemused tone. “We had a plan.”

“The men needed a push,” Beren shrugged, pushing back his hair.

“If you stuck to the plan, we wouldn’t need a push and a few of them could still be alive.” The girl walked over to the corner, pulling out a flask of wine and angrily opening it, the red liquid spilling slightly on the ground by her boots. The man watched her, concern etched alongside his smile, the adrenaline of the fight slowly fading from him. As Nienor took a huge sip of the wine, he let out a sigh.

“Your uncle will have me flogged if he sees you acting like such a brute,” he muttered, ignoring the glare she shot him. Losing his previous jolliness, Beren reached to the table, pulling the map of Gondor and the nearby lands closer. “Did we notice where they came from?”

“They came from the same bloody place they always do lad. The arsehole of all our nightmares.” Jagmar answered as he pushed through the tent flap, his crow flapping in landing atop Nienor’s wine flask staring at her.

“I am no miner, Master Dwarf, so maybe you can illuminate if there are new holes in the ground or not,” Beren responded, glancing up at the warrior that entered. Nienor waved at the crow, annoyed that there was someone stopping her from being irresponsible. The Crow cawed indignantly, clacking his beak at her hand.

Another high and mighty Lord of Men...what a nice surprise. The Dwarf thought before kicking a chair up to it and climbing up to get a view of the map. Picking up a quill he studied the map. “You don’t need to be a Miner to use your eyes lad. A horde this size can only come from natural caves without your hawk-eyed little pony boys seeing them.” He drew a couple of quick black X’s over much of the field. “That leaves the Glittering Caves south exit the Greymoor Cave system.” He drew an X over the Glittering Caves. “They never would’ve made it through those caves without my people seeing them. So that leaves the Greymoor Cave system.” He circled the small ridge line along the western edge of the map.

“Your knowledge truly is priceless,” Beren shot Nienor a glance, the girl’s lips twitching with amusements. Although Durin’s kin was not unseen in Gondor, sometimes their manners made the young noble's raise their eyes. Certain expressions of the stout warriors with beards would have caused quite a few women to faint, were they to hear them with their own eyes.

“Is that a system we,” Nienor paused, “you have explored in the past? I know of its existence but I have yet to find any details of them in the library of the Citadel.”

Jagmar snorted, shaking his head. “I’m a Bounty Hunter lassie, I haven’t been in a cave or mine in over thirty years. I like seeing the sun too much. But from what I remember it was an ambitious plan of a lord from out in Shire country. He started digging in hopes of finding his own Dwarven treasure free of Dwarf or Dragon, all the dumb bastard managed to do was dig a new door into a natural cave system with some hot springs. Waste of time and money so he abandoned it, about the only way I can see them getting this close so quickly.”

“Not all of us have seen as many summers,” Nienor responded before finally shaking the crow off her flask and taking another swig. “Is there any way we can…collapse these entrances? Make it harder for them to reach so close to the city? I know Osgiliath and Minas Ithil are overrun but…”

Sorbel landed atop Jagmar’s shoulder ruffling its feather staring at Nienor. “The Dwarves have tried that many times. It killed a few of them, but only slowed them down a day or so. These...these things need not sleep, food, or water. The only thing I’ve ever seen that stalls them is finding whatever counts as the leader and killing it, they scatter...or...get bored...or decide they need a shite I don’t know, they leave, but always come back.”

“A wishful dream Nienor,” Beren sighed, looking at the markings etched onto his map with fresh ink.

“Sir,” a soldier popped his head into the tent, his armor still covered in the dried blood of the monsters. “My lady. There is a messenger from Minas Tirith. The scroll bears the royal seal of Elessar.”

“Bring it here,” Beren responded as the man bowed and disappeared. Frowning, Nienor walked closer, closing the flask and placing it on the table. A few seconds later, the messenger entered, saluting the three people in the tent and striding forth to hand the blonde leader a scroll.

Jagmar chuckled, tossing his own note upon the table bearing the same seal. “Looks like one of you sprats get to come with me to see if our long lost Elven saviors have found some Gods to come help us fight the Wrong.” Grabbing the discarded wine he lifted it to his lips and drained it in one gulp. “Been longer than thirty years since I’ve been to the Grey Havens.” He chuckled, tossing the empty skin aside.

“Obviously the less pretty one,” Beren grinned, glancing at Nienor. “Your uncle demands that you make the trip with that cranky Dwarf right there.”

“He wouldn’t,” the words were out before she could stop them. Her uncle had finally let the court’s blinding light blind him. He didn’t see a strong warrior and commander, only a girl he needed to protect and send as far away as possible. Far away from the fight and the pain and…

“According to this, he just did,” Beren waved the paper in the air. “Even you are not reckless enough to disregard a royal degree, are you?”

Jagmar saw the quick conflict wash over Nienor’s face upon seeing the note. “Don’t worry lassie, I’ve done it before you go get drunk at the Prancing Pony and send someone to watch the shore for any sign of the ships. Sleep the day away then come right back here. The Wrong will be here when you get back.” Hopping down from the chair the Dwarf went to find something else to drink. “But usually one from every race is sent, should be more coming.”

“It’s not the fact that the Wrong will be gone that bothers me. It is the people,” crossing her hands across her chest, the girl turned away, hiding her gaze from the men as it was touched lightly by tears.

Jagmar saw the young woman turn away already feeling how this was going to go. “Oh lass, don’t cry it makes my knees hurt besides…”

“Come on my bonny Orcy lass this is Lord Bernie’s tent!” Was the only warning anyone got before a female Orc wearing a wolf skin cloak was shoved inside followed by a drunken Halfing who staggered to the side tossing a sloppy salute to Beren before he tumbled over sideways his weapons clanking loudly. “Chief Scout Jocko Took and...and...my Orc friend...reporting for duty surr.”

It has been ages since Lu had been inside anything resembling a tent, and nothing near as nice as what the human's had set up. Still as she stood there having caught her footing she watched the Halfling stagger and fall once more with something of a tense grimace under her hood. She didn’t like this feeling of being enclosed or so close to a handful of people who had some form of animosity towards her kind. She clutched the bird a little tighter making it warble in complaint so she forced herself to relax her grip. Before looking up through the eye holes of her mask to study the other occupants of the room. Two Humans and a Dwarf.

“What the….” Beren stood up, watching as the pair fell into the tent and his soldiers’ bewildered and apologetic faces. Waving them off, he turned his rather bemused blue eyes to his new guests, crossing his hands. Nienor looked around her shoulder, frowning and wishing her sword was closer to her.

Jagmar only quirked his eyebrow as the Hobbit and Orc entered the tent. “By Durin’s Beard, a drunken Hobbit now there’s a shock.” He said in a deadpan voice as he grabbed a jug of water and dumped it over the Scout’s face. “Wake up and show some decorum Master Took.” Jocko sputtered and jumped back to his feet. Immediately getting hit with a rushing of his hot head meeting cold water. “A rude Dwarf, be still my drunken heart.” Jocko said keeping on his feet and strapping his swords on.

As the dwarf drew closer with the water, the She-Orc stepped to the side and back towards a corner away from the others to keep some distance. Cradling the crow in one arm and eyeing the two Humans before regarding the Dwarf and Hafling duo for a moment as her free hand gently fiddling with the feathered arrows in her quiver.

“Master Took is it?” Beren quirked an eyebrow. “What a familiar name. What is the meaning of your state and your bewildering entrance?”

Jocko planted his hand against the tent post a quiet hiccup answering the Lord’s question. “We Took are the bravest of the...the brave among Hobbits! My great great great uncle Peregrin Took, helped beat that Sauron arsehole. As for me, I just came off a twelve hour scouting mission and got thrown a messenger crow to come here to play escort.” He nodded to his female Orc friend. “Like the one she has.”

Once again the She-Orc grimaced as the attention was turned to her. Exactly what she didn’t want. “Yes.” she said slowly. “Your messenger crow made it to the encampment. But clearly whoever sent it did not think their intentions through well.” She said looking down at the injured bird that cocked its head eyeing the others.

“Whoever it was,” Beren repeated. The half Orc alongside the Hobbit made an odd pair. With her clothing covering dark skin, she was as reserved and distant as the little Took was drunk and exuberant. “May I?” He asked for the Took’s letter, glancing it over briefly, Nienor drifting to glance over his shoulder.

Reading over the Hobbit’s note Beren quickly glanced at both Nienor’s and Jagmar’s. They all had the usual pleasantries and declarations of standing as one against The Wrong. He’d seen these messages before. Every week since the Elves left a group of chosen warriors would be tasked with heading for the Grey Docks to await their return so news could be brought back to the Free Armies as soon as possible. Looks like this week it fell on his own little army to fill these roles. Handing the note back to the Hobbit he shrugged, patting Nienor’s shoulder smirking. “Looks like you have your work cut-out for you, representative of Mankind.” He chuckled again moving back to the map.

“Oh shut it,” she grumbled, sighing. “Does it say when we leave?”

“As soon as possible, the way to the Grey Docks is where a lot of our scouts have been seeing pockets of the Wrong.” Beren said, sliding the note towards the young warrior woman without looking up from the map.

“Yes sir,” Nienor responded after a moment, bowing her head and lifting her sword from the table.

Jagamar nodded to the Human lord taking some wine with him. “I’ll fetch my ram and meet all of you on the East side of the camp.” Without waiting for dismissal the Dwarf left bustling from the tent.

Jocko feeling a touch more sober nodded. “We Hobbits don’t do horse or ram so…*hic* I’ll just grab my kit and meet where the miserable old Dwarf says.”

Lushak had nothing to grab, she carried all her meager belongings on her. But she could make the excuse and simply not show up, it’s not as if they would be able to find her again, at least not tonight. The Orc felt a hand grab her cloak and looked down to see Jocko again. “Come on my bonny Orcy I may need help with my beer stores.” He began pulling her out of the tent again.

“I want to check my equipment and get some sleep tonight,” Nienor didn’t look at Beren again, focusing absently on where the Dwarf once stood. “My liege.”

“Nienor,” the blonde started but she strode out of the tent without another glance. Exasperated, he sat down, running a hand through his hair. He could understand his friend’s exasperation and cool anger, knew what was running through her head but there was nothing he could do to help. “That damn Dwarf took my last skin of wine.” The Lord grumbled into the silence of his tent.

Despite Nienor’s wishes she was at the Eastern edge of the camp with the rest of her merry band a half hour later. The Dwarf was the first one there, his old gray battle ram munching moodily on some grass looking just a grumpy as his rider. But considering she should be sleeping right now Nienor could relate, last to arrive were the odd couple of the Hobbit and the She-Orc and somewhere between Beren’s tent and Jocko’s tent they had borrowed a draft horse with the black and white spots. The great creature hardly looked bothered by it, but the sight of Jocko sitting in front of the Orc holding the reins in a death grip told Nienor he was worrying enough for all three of them. Lu simply looked like she was still trying to grasp what was happening.

With a low yawn Nienor took point and began leading her little welcoming party to the Gray Havens. It was at least a month's ride at a good pace, so hopefully they could get there without meeting a single Wrong.

[P.K.]

Having ridden hard since they left the Gondoran Camp. Dawn was poking it’s eyes over the distant hills of the East. The grumpy Human and equally grumpy Dwarf were riding a few feet ahead of the others. Jocko had worked out his nerves and was riding quite easily now. Glancing back he smiled at his Orcy friend. “How you doing back there my bonny Orcy lass?”

Lu who had found it bafflingly difficult to say no to this halfling found herself mounted on a horse behind him as the dawn peeked over the hills. The ride had been… uncomfortable but even as the man sobered up his demeanor towards her didn’t seem to change. Mostly she just didn’t know how to hang on so had finally settled with a hand on his shoulder while the other cradled the injured crow which had its head tucked between her body and arm.

As her companion turned and asked how she was doing, She was honestly not sure how to respond. Releasing him she pushed her wolf mask back so it fell to her back shaking out her tangled braids with something of a frown. “As well as one can Imagine, I suppose.” she said quietly glancing up ahead at the others that rode before them before taking the time to read the landscape. “How far are these Gray Docks?” She asked, finely peering down at the Halfling.

Jocko shrugged looking around him. “A few days to the East, have you never been there Orcy Lass?” He smiled back at her.

“I’ve never been far beyond Mordor.” She replied quietly, her quite blue stare taking in the landscape in the early hours. “This is the farthest I’ve been from my homelands and it’s only because of The Wrong. Otherwise I’d be less than welcome then I already am.”

The Halfing scoffed, reaching up patting her hand gently. “Oh pishaw, you’re plenty welcome around me Orcy, especially once we get to the Prancing Pony! Warm mead, big fluffy bed and the freshest mutton around!”

The she-orc was left a little baffled by the halfling’s gesture, his warm hand patting hers. It was not something she was accustomed to, to have one of the other races not be hostile towards her, a part of her wondered if maybe he was still drunk. “Is it possible that you're still drunk?” She asked leaning around to peer at him more closely. “It is not like the other races to be so friendly with my kind.” she said suspiciously.

Jocko laughed, giving her a wink. “No, I’m as sober as a wizard during a troll march! And that I can understand, but you’ve never met a Hobbit before have you my bonny lass?”

She mulled over this for a second before relenting. “No, I have not.” But she failed to see what that had to do with it. Surely the small folk feared and reviled her people as much as the Elves, Dwarves and Men.

Jocko laughed loudly. “Well then lesson one! Not all Hobbits are easily scared, especially if he’s a Took! Just stick with me Orcy, you’ll be the bell of the Pony! Bonny wee thing like you!”

Not scared huh? That still left her with some questions but she simply set back on the horse listening to him to stick with him and she’d be a bell? She shook her head. These people were certainly strange to her, but again so far much more pleasant than her own kind. “Wee thing? I’m taller than you?” She said with some confusion. “You are very strange.” She said finely. And very loud.

He laughed. “That’s lesson number two, don’t get ahead of me my bonny Orc! Just remember someone is only as tall as they carry themselves! I think that’s more Lesson Four, but lesson three will be names, as bonny as you are. I think I should get a proper name.”

He was strange, but she had to admit his company was more welcome than she expected, if it came about in a bizarre turn of events. She looked down at him as he spoke of names. She supposed it was only fair after all she knew Jocko Took’s name all too well now. “They called me Lushak.” Though hardly anyone had spoken her name, at least not close enough for her to hear it, for some time. “Lushak the Quiet.”

Jocko smiled. “Lushak the Quiet, Lu-shak the Q-uiet. Lu-Lu Shaka Shaka!” He laughed loudly bouncing in the saddle some. “Such a fine name for such a fine lassie!”

Once again the half Orc was left baffled. “You are very strange Jocko.” but there was something of amusement lacing her quiet voice. A first to be sure. “Orc women are not thought to be fine like your Elves and Humans, not even to Orc males themselves. You have questionable taste.”

Jocko hmmed lightly looking back at Lulu studying her face and body. “That must be why I thought Orcs just climbed out of mud all these years. They don’t know a pretty lass when they see it. Worry not Lulu, my tastes are quite refined.” He chuckled, giving her another wink.

The she-Orc raised a slight eyebrow. She wasn’t sure how to take his words, she didn’t understand the strange mannerisms of these people. Their behaviours were so strange to her, especially this one who was being unusually nice. She wasn’t sure how long alcohol truly lasted but considering how small he was and how much he must have had it was something she had to consider. “I’ll take your word for it.” she said finely.

Jocko chuckled, patting her hand again. “That’s lesson number five!” He cackled loudly knocking his heels into the Draft Horse’s side, catching up with the others.

[Koti~]

Fen let out a grumbled sigh as he sat about his den. Scattered about him were several weapons and items that had been left by adventurers, relics of encounters fighting rouges or saving animals. He kept them safe from all who traveled the forest grounds from harm. When they became too much, he would transport them to the wardens hall for either training, or for them to sell off for funding. Sure, they didn’t need it, but it was better than letting weapons and armor pile up in this place. The pile was becoming much larger than he planned, but people had become more eager to visit after words of the wolf spread. Nothing major to call in the Wardens, but Fen was not liking becoming the local fable to scare children. Those always backfired with keeping people away.

Da’lenfen knew that leaving for a while would help to calm the stories that were starting to grow, but the downside would be that his lands would be unprotected. How would the young kits stay alive with people hunting the forest for their furs, or the very trees stand tall. Abandoning the forest to go traipsing across foreign lands would be akin to him forsaking his kin just for a bit of adventure. The irony was not lost on him as he continued to wrap the items tight into a pack, the chattering of birds drawing his attention to the nest in the canopies above. A sound that he would never get tired of hearing anytime of the day. Would the other lands even have birds like this, or would the uncertain landscape yield just bizarre creatures that held no warmth to them.

He had already heard several of the stories about the wayward elves from both passersby and messengers. High and mighty, much the opposite of the elves he had grown up with and trained under. What would they even think of him, a savage even to his own people. Would they consider him a deranged mongrell that needed to be laid in peace or some strange wolf that had gained sentience? Would they even be like the elves he knew? Curiosity held sway more than he ever planned as the last of his stock was ready to be moved. He had a few days before he desperately needed to be there, so his travel could take time.

===a few hours later===

With nothing left to occupy his mind, he thought in earnest about the mission, and if it was something that needed to be done. Fen knew that fighting the darkspawn was both his right, and his honor as a Grey Warden. To shirk both would ensure a miserable death in the swamps, and the loss of any honor he held within himself. The call had been made, and with such a massive threat, he couldn’t ignore it like other calls. The spawn that had invaded their own lands had spread under the very seas and now threatened the lands beyond the clouds. A glorious fight was promised at that very idea, as all walks of life were pledging themselves to the battles ahead, even his own kin. With one sigh he had his mind made up he moved back into his den, packing up the last of what he needed before making his move. Fen would be able to keep a pleasant pace, but he would easily arrive on time for the trip.

Walking from the heart of the woods, the animals joined him, keeping their distance from the stoic man. They could tell something was different with the old man, the scent from his body exuding an aura of both resignation and excitement as he moved like a shadow. Even without making any sounds, the comical parade of woodland creatures following him was something out of a fairytale, a silent honor guard to the leader of the woods for most of them. They remained silent out of both respect and worry, a strange silent prayer for their brethrens return to the woods, whole and unharmed. Only the birds remained at the edge of the forest as the man finally exited, picking up the pace some as the open plains and dirt roads greeted his path, ready to move onto the woods.

==== The day of travel ====

“Pretty words for ugly truths.” Da’lenfen spoke in a grumble, arms crossed as he sat away from most of the groups, getting several stares from all about. The few wardens he didn’t remember gave him a polite nod or bows after his introductions, while both the Dalish elves and mages looked at him in quiet contentment. He knew several of them didn’t much care for his personality, but several dare not approach him for the intimidating presence he commanded just about himself. Their faces did bring a slight smile to his mind, knowing his presence and powers spoke pretty good for himself. He had yet really spoken to the endoran elves, but there would be plenty of time on the boat ride over if he so wished.

The only one he had any honest desire to speak with was Zad, the young man he could see had grown into a much more commanding man, if his stance and words spoke of anything. He felt a small bit of pride in the Wardens who he could see joining them on the trip over, knowing that their lives were in good hands through them all, knowing that when it came down to it, they would not run like cowards. Fen gave a small huff though as he stood up, feeling joints pop some as he made to join the Warden group proper, knowing he was to be stuck in a small area for some time. He might as well get to know them better than the few words he had spoken with them in the past.

[P.K.]

Lushack set with her back against a tree carefully feeding small chunks of dried meat to the bird resting in her lap. As near as she could tell he seemed to be healing fine, but she couldn’t say that she was any good at the art of healing. The others had since dispersed to start setting up a camp before the night fully set upon them, Lu was content to sleep huddled in her cloak and wolf skin and this would likely be the only time Jocko didn’t talk at her till he fell asleep.

Nienor checked the horses, resting her forehead against the warm neck of her grey stallion, opting for the lighter mount on their trek across the lands of this world. It had been barely a week and as the group set up their camp once again, falling into some sort of routine, Nienor opted to check on the mounts. The grey twitched his ears and flared his nostrils, calmly taking in the night air and allowing the young woman enough time to compose her thoughts. Like usual, her mind drifted back to Beren and their men, the nightly battles near the Gondorian cities and the gamble with death. This is the best chance they have, she reminded herself, giving the horse one more pat and heading back towards the campfire.

Around there, the dwarf and the hobbit were already fast asleep. After a few days, they had determined a schedule to watch the night, Lushack typically being first watch. Nienor had been able to fall asleep the past nights but today, looking at the slightly red moon in the night sky, she wasn’t ready to sleep a wink. The red was a sign of spilled blood.

Lu watched the human women walk back into the camp from her tucked in position between the roots of a tree. A week may have passed but the two had hardly spared a word for each other, Not that the half orc blamed the human women and she certainly wasn’t one to start conversations herself, Unless it was Jocko Sober or drunk the Halfling always had something amusing, or perhaps inappropriate to say judging by some of the expressions of the other members.

She turned her eyes back into the darkness beyond the light of the fire for the time being, fully expecting the human woman to lay herself to sleep under the light of the red moon. But after a stretch of silence she glanced back among the sleeping figures only to see that she was still awake. Lu let the silence stretch for a moment before she slowly unwrapped her cloak and stood slowly. She checked on the bird quietly settled in a patch of soft grass before she crouched down across the fire from the women. “You usually sleep by now.” Lu observed quietly, glancing off into the darkness studying the shapes and shadows in the moonlight.

Nienor froze as the orc’s rough voice broke the quiet silence of the fire, quiet and somewhat resembling the rumble of the earth. Not looking at her, green eyes focused on the dancing flames, she gave her a shrug. In the week that passed, she hadn’t gotten any closer to accepting her forced companion, try as the hobbit may to bring them closer. It wasn’t hate but - there was so much history that could not be erased between their people, history that made it hard not to see her as an enemy and constantly watch her back. The young Gondorian had gotten used to sleeping with her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready for anything.

“It’s a red moon,” she responded cooly. “The elves say the moon turns red whenever innocent blood is spilled. I fear for what is happening in Gondor.”

Lu looked up into the sky studying the moon for a moment. She couldn’t help wondering why the moon hadn’t been red for the past several days then. “Doesn't seem that different from all the other nights.” Lu responded quietly. “Surly innocent blood has been split for many nights in a row. But I suppose I don’t know much about elven suspicion, or man’s.” The orc picked up a stick and poke at the fire, pushing some of the logs further into the waning flames to feed them.

“Warriors are not considered innocent - if you have spilled blood of an enemy, you are no longer pure,” Nienor moved to hug her knees close to her chest. “My uncle told me stories about his great grandfather and their friends. The War of the Ring has left many blood moons, killed many people trying to simply survive. In Edoras, in Gondor, in Moria..” She sighed, her eyes growing distant and sad, nostalgia and home-sickness washing over her. How she missed the White Citadel and the High King, the Ridermark and the Golden Halls. In a rare bout of emotions, she was ready to fully embrace her Rohirrim side.

Lushack cocked her head slightly. Curious. But she said nothing as the women went on growing distant, lost in some form of thought. The orcs told very different stories, but she was less inclined to believe them. She let the silence stretch for a moment as she thought over what Nienor had said. The war of the ring, so far beyond her time, beyond many of those who lived now. “I don’t understand the other races easily.” She said finely. “But even the orcish stories tell of how the free races won that war. Perhaps there is… hope?-” she paused briefly in thought before continuing. “...Yet. It doesn't seem within the free races nature to give in easily to encroaching darkness.”

“Last time there was hope - hope that the Ring would make it to Mordor and be destroyed. There were two brave hobbits who carried a burden and Mithrandir who brought the light and the lost king of Gondor.” Nienor wasn’t certain how comfortable she was discussing her past with the orc, knowing that Lushack’s past was very different to her own. In the orcish stories, the free people were not heroes but murderers and ruthless killers, those who destroyed and pushed them far east or north. “What do we have now? We have no guarantee that the elves would be back at all when we get to Grey Haven. They are further than any bird can fly.”


Lu wasn’t sure she could argue with the women, not that she had much hope in the first place. She tossed her stick into the fire. “So hope is tangible.” She mused thoughtfully. “I wonder if the hobbits thought about their guarantees.” she wondered out loud wrapping her cloak around herself. “Did they feel as forsaken as you do now?” It was idle musings with no real answers as they were long since gone. “I don’t know what Hope is like to feel or hold…” She said finely. “So I won't pretend to understand what it’s like to feel Hopeless, I find the notions a little strange but interesting.”

“Do you find pain interesting, orc?” Nienor raised an eyebrow, turning her cold gaze at the dark skinned female.

“Not really.” She responded simply. “Pain I understand, Fear, desperation, loathing even. A will or longing to survive. I understand these well enough. But I’m not really familiar with the feeling of hope, contentment or what you might call joy. Perhaps that is why Jocko is so Baffling to me.”

“Jocko,” Nienor’s voice didn’t warm up at the name.

“I don’t hold anything against you.” Lu said, finely pushing herself to her feet after a short stretch of silence. “I don’t care to talk to my own kind either but You are the least baffling to me, your reaction is normal.” She said brushing off her knees.

Normal reaction, Nienor thought, absently watching the flames. Nothing about this current war was normal.

Lu gazed down at the women for a moment. Jocko couldn't say she didn't try, though as she glanced at the sleeping halfling she knew he'd likely never find out about this akward exchange between the two. There didn't appear to be anything left to say so Lu quietly moved back into the shadows and wrapped her cloak around her to star into the shadows to leave the women to her thoughts once more.

[Dnafein]

The afternoon sun burned overhead as the Wardens and their small army bustled around the two ships doing the jobs of the usual sailors. Swabbing decks, repairing line and sails. Skills not many of them possessed, especially the Dwarves, but they were all skilled warriors so adaptation was beaten into them from day one. Some still seemed rather lost in the finer points of nautical life, but under the careful direction of the Endoran Elves they had been saved from dashing themselves on rocks or beaching upon partially hidden islands just under the surface of the waves.

Zadkiel was currently acting as a rope repairer seated upon some upturned barrels dressed in just his pants, boots and his sword slung over his shoulder in a modified sheath. Never in all his years did he expect to be a sailor, but his father had gone to great pains to keep the mission and the Endoran Elves a secret. The ships were loaded and stocked by Wardens and Initiates unable to join in on the journey to Endor, and as no one who didn’t have a stake in the new Blight would be willing to undergo a journey that they might never return from the Wardens, Dalish, and Legionnaires would be taking the places and jobs of the crews. Many grumbled, but luckily their sense of duty overruled their complaints and they all fell into line.

The Endorans were also the most patient of teachers for the newly minted crewmen. The six of them had manned a single ship themselves the whole journey, once more proving they were something far beyond even the revered ancestors of the Dalish people. Zad wouldn’t be surprised if members of the Clan that came with them chose to live on with the Endorans after all this was over. Having gained a nice tan from these months at sea Zad was in mostly high spirits even singing one of the few sea shanties he knew to himself.

Eli absently leaned against the railing of the ship, the soft breeze pulling at her loose white shirt, allowing for the material to briefly expose the silhouette of her body before dropping down to become a simple garment once more. Having been up for the past night, she was planning to go hit the hay so to speak in the next half hour but she couldn’t help herself enjoy the sunrise and the small pod of dolphins that had, at the break of light, come to play in the ships’ waves. According to Eglerion, the Endorian Elf, she had developed a friendship as he showed her the ropes of sailing, it was rare to see these fascinating creatures close to land as Orcs and sometimes even men fished them for tender meat and food.

Scrunching her nose at the thought, she wondered once again where they were going to where the Elves were so knowledgeable and the men so...vile? Sighing, she left for her nap, tossing and turning as she started to get the nightmares, something she had forgotten about for a few years. It was a sure sign that the Wardens were approaching darkspawn, something that both excited her and scared her. Deciding that sleep was overrated, she ended up walking back into the afternoon sun, smiling when she heard the rather off-key voice of her man. Standing not far, she absently listened as he finished another shanty before finally turning towards him, leaning back against the railing.

“Your singing hasn’t improved in the past month, you do know that?” she teased, red strands of hair framing her face, eyes sparking with mischief.

Hearing his partner’s voice Zad chuckled glancing up from his work. “I sing like a lark in spring and you know it madam.” Grabbing a small water skin besides him he tossed it to her before sliding off the barrel stretching his legs and back out in the sun. “You look tired my love, haven’t you gone down to sleep after your night guard shift?” Picking up his completed rope he began winding it back up.

“Nightmares,” she responded, catching the waterskin and taking a sip. “Though a lark is a stretch. More like a seagull.”

His smile shrunk a little as he slung the rope over his shoulder and moved to embrace her gently. He had heard her tossing around in her hammock the last couple of nights. He thought it was just normal nightmares, but he had been having them himself the past week. It meant they were getting close to Endor and it’s Darkspawn infection. The Archdemon would be sensing them soon if it hadn’t already. Pulling back he gave her a smile. “I’ve heard seagulls are quite musical themselves. Maybe you just don’t have an ear for music?” He joked reaching up and tickling her ear some. Before he gathered the rest of the rope and moved it to the pile he’d been working on. He knew what the nightmares meant, but didn’t mean he couldn’t try to uplift his woman’s spirits.

“My grandma ensured I attended enough music lessons in my youth to dislike them, thank you,” Eli leaned into his hug, breathing in his familiar scent with the salt air. Had it really been a month and a bit already since they started their journey? It seemed at once much longer and not long enough. “You too?”

He nodded slightly picking up another rope placing it on his barrel but left it moving back to Eli. “Yes, hopefully, it doesn’t mean what we think it means. Got a lot of plans ahead of us.” He kissed her gently on the lips, on the ship there wasn’t any kind of privacy so it has been awhile since he had felt her lips against his. “I’m feeling a little hungry, shall we go see what’s left of lunch in the galley? Maybe some food will help settle you?” He cupped her face smiling.

“You think there is anything left?” the woman raised an eyebrow but the shadow of concern had passed, leaving behind her usual optimistic self. “I do believe I saw Grif and Bart heading that way earlier.”

Taking her hand he smiled. “Hehe Maker I hope so, Dwarves are grumpy normally, I don’t even want to picture how they’d be hungry.” Looping his arm around her waist he chuckled again. “They might try to eat Barq then.”

“I guess we should go stop the blood bath,” Eli chuckled, letting him lead her to the galley.

Zad nodded pushing open the door to the galley hearing some kind of ruckus emanating from beyond the steps, he frowned a little. “Maybe we’re already too late.” Keeping a hold of Eli he moved down the steps following the sound of loud barking and what sounded like some kind of angry shouting in a foreign language. Was that singing? He thought upon reaching the bottom of the steps.

Eli didn’t know what to expect as they entered the galley but as they got to the door, she pulled back in surprise, narrowly avoiding a red flying object close to taking out her nose. Blinking away her surprise and thanking her reflexes, she watched as the Qunari and a Dwarf joyously passed the ball back and forth, the great Mabari hound barking and jumping to snatch it. Exchanging a glance with Zad, she grabbed the ball mid flight as it made another arc. “What is going on here?”

“Walking the dog.” Grif said without missing a beat. He also shifted a little at the table, drawing attention to a pair of covered bowls resting opposite him at his table. “Why? What's it look like?”

“Is there anything still left that is edible….and not Barq?” the redhead asked, exchanging an amused smile with her man.

Zad chuckled, shaking his head. “It looked like you were trying to deprive my dog of his one joy in life.” He took the ball from Eli and tossed it at the big drool machine who happily grabbed it and retreated to a corner to keep it safe. “Next time just try a rope around him and toss him into the sea for a bit.”

Grif tossed a thumb over his shoulder at the covered bowls in answer to Eli’s question. “No to be honest he has tw.. Three, no fou… He has at least four joys in life.” Grif said counting off with his fingers. “And that was the plan till the Endorians started getting huffy. Something about drag?” Grif shrugged. He had experience long before his joining with sailing. His people did originate in a distant land after all. “This was the second best thing.”

“Monsters,” Eli rolled her eyes, coming to inspect the covered bowls and the food inside. A variety of Lembas bread and Fereldan provisions of salted meats and pickled vegetables appeared before her alongside the remains of what used to be a medium sized wheel of cheese. Breaking off a piece of the Endorian food, she ended up nibbling it, watching Barq happily chewing on his toy and the men exchanging their playful banter.

The Dwarf, a young man who had barely grown into his beard chuckled. “Monsters indeed Mistress Warden, I’ve only known a few Mabari in my time and all of them love being in water.” Standing up the young Dwarf grabbed the weapons he had hung off the back of his chair nodding to Grif. “Thank you for talking with me Master. Grif, never thought any of you oxes could be such jolly fellows.” He picked up a small flask of purple liquid. “And thanks again for this little potion, seasickness was never something I had to worry about in Orzammar.” Giving the two humans a friendly nod the young Legionnaire left the galley.

The Champion nodded to the young Dwarf before joining Eli by the food. “A smiling Legionnaire,leave it to you Grif to make the impossible happen. Maybe you can work your magic on that Arawn fellow, looks like his face is made of stone.” He cut up some of the leftover cheese and sandwiched it between some meat and the Lembas bread.

“It’s all part of my facade.” Grif started. “Another five minutes and I’d have had him signing up to follow the Qun.” The Tal Vashoth joked. “As for Arawn, it’s hard to make them laugh when they're already dead.”

“So Rumor has it we’ll be landing soon.” Grif started. He left it hanging hoping Zad would offer more information.

Zadkiel nodded biting into his food. “Yes, last I talked with Laurenas we’re a few hours out, we’ll be pulling into some place called the Grey Havens I believe she called it.” He swallowed his food and chuckled. “Rather fitting, I suppose, said we’re meeting some kind of escort as well. You hear anything about that?”

Eli piled a few bits of food into a handkerchief and tied it up into a small bundle before a small yawn parted her lips. “Looks like you boys will have to talk shop without me.” She leaned down and kissed Zad’s cheek. “See you later Zad.” She gave Grif a smile then headed out of the galley leaving the men and the dog alone.

“Well, from what I heard it was supposed to be a detachment from each of the races providing troops.” Grif said. “A symbol of welcome and thanks or some such. Whatever units they could spare.”

Grif shook his head. “I certainly hope they are doing better than they suggested if they have that many blades to spare.”

Zad nodded he had heard something similar, but nothing much about how many would be there or what state they would be in. “One can hope, but I don’t know honestly. I’ve talked with each Endoran Elf, and even they seem conflicted on the state of Endor. A man named Talisu said this Blight has surpassed their War of the Ring that nearly spelt the end of everything at the hand of some kind of Magister level dark wizard or something. But one of the women, a younger one named Glisi said the Free Nations were winning the Blight.” Leaning back he took a sip from his waterskin. “Not impossible I suppose, but not sure how they would manage that without a Warden or someone similar to one.”

“Didn’t dear ole dad have to deal with someone who thought they could just win the Blight?” Grif asked with a shrug. “If they were winning, they wouldn’t have bet on this horse.So speaking of betting, Next three baths Ole’ Bartholomew gets says there’s less than ten troops to greet us.” Grif smirked as he made the bet. Odds were he could shirk the duty of bathing the dog on someone else easily enough either way. But this was more fun.

Zad nodded slowly remembering Loghain Mac Tir, the man who thought he could save Ferelden, but almost killed it instead. “Yes, that crazy bastard, but the Endorans told stories of a White Wizard and Rangers of the North who beat back and defeated a god while two hairy footed young fools ran up a volcano. So part of me thought maybe this was all more a precaution than a desperate plea for help.” Going back to his food he listened to Grif’s bet smirking between mouthfuls of food. “I’ll take that bet, I say we’ll have eleven there to greet us.” He offered Grif his hand, he didn’t mind bathing the dog, besides once they got to shore Barq would probably be the first to dive off the ship and try to tow the boats to shore.

Grif started laughing at hairy footed fools, wondering why that was included in the story. Shaking the man’s hand. As he slowed he waved away the story. “Your Chantry claims the maker married some woman and that humans were to blame for the darkspawn.” Grif’s hand tightened around Zad’s. “Since you picked a specific number that means any more or less and you lose you know.”

Grif let his friends hand go with a satisfied smile. Easiest win ever, he thought to himself before questioning whether it would be cheating to eliminate a greeter or two to make victory assured.

Zad nodded giving the big Qunari a wink. “Oh I know, but you never said how long the baths need to be nor when. I dump a bucket of water on him every hour for three hours and it’ll count.” Zad finished his food patting his big friend on the shoulder before another swig of his water and wiping his mouth off with his hand.

“You do that and I’ll tell your father you shirked your duty when we get back.” Grif chuckled.”Last time that happened you did the dinner dishes for how long?

Zadkiel laughed, rubbing his chin in thought. “About as long as you had to polish the Order’s armor when you told a young Initiate you were the brother of the Inquisitor and tricked the pup into doing your guard shifts because you had “important intel” to share with the Inquisition.” He tossed Grif a pastry. “Didn’t we catch you at the bakery in town “taste testing?”

“Our armor was the shiniest in Thedas for that week.” Grif said, catching the pastry. “And Ser Lucian personally thanked me. Remember the tourney he won that week; Said the shine blinded his opponents.” He finished and took a bite.

The man let out a loud laugh leaning back in his chair. “And I’m sure it had nothing to do with the free Riviani wine that was there or how most of his foes were too drunk to even put their armors on correctly.” He looked over at the dog and shouted to him. “Isn’t that what you heard Ser Barq?”
“A true chevaliar understands moderation in all ‘es temptations.” Grif said with a flawless Orlaisian accent, and an exaggerated wink. “I honestly think it was overcast at the tourney anyways.” He added in his normal voice.

Zad smirked, shaking his head slightly at the big man’s accent. “Oh the life of a Warden is lost upon such a skilled thespian as yourself Master Griffin.”

The Mabari paused mid chew and looked up at the men conversing. He huffed and returned his attention to the ball. Gnawing relentlessly at it.

“If you’re finished you may want to hunt down Laurenas. Go over what we need to know regarding landfall.” Grif said with a slightly sadder note. “Work comes sooner every minute that passes. Or some such.”

Zadkiel chuckled and nodded standing up adjusting his sword’s shoulder sling. “Why yes of course First Warden your eminence, right away ser.” He winked at the Qunari before clicking his tongue signalling Barq to his side. See if you can round up the rest of the group, once we get close I’m sure we’ll all be briefed on what to expect.” He patted the dogs head and moved to leave.

“The Dwarf is probably already close the elf lady.” Grif stated. “He’s been bugging her for more speed as I understand it. But I’ll seek out the Keeper and whoever’s in charge of the slingers. Then I’ll wander around and make sure our people are up to speed. Even if I have to dump them from their rack.” He stretched before standing, ducking slightly to keep his head clear of the ceiling.

Giving one last smile Zadkiel clapped Grif on the arm. “Sounds good my friend, be gentle with some of the flipping. The Dalish are twitchy, don’t need anyone becoming a pin cushion before we even get to shore.” He slipped out the galley followed closely behind by Barqspawne.

“Ha. Pin Cushion.” Grif chuckled to himself. “Why do you think I’m already in my armor.” He muttered as he exited from the galley.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Ruins of Garth Uireb Maethor Jagmar, Nienor, Jocko, and Damina


The cool breath of evening rolled through the ruins of the old fort a stone’s throw from the docks of the Grey Havens. A group of six individuals sat around a fire occasionally glancing through the broken walls of the fort. Jagmar One-Eye was seated with his back firmly against a broken pillar smoke listing up lazily from the bowl of his pipe. “It’s been two days, how long do we plan to sit here and wait?”

Besides him crouched an elegant Elven woman with silver hair, she was slowly sharpening a pair of black bladed knives. “Until the sun sets today Master Dwarf.” She said quietly.

Across from the Elf, a stout young woman was carving a stake of some kind and glanced over at the Bounty Hunter. “Tis the second time ye’ve asked that in a matter o’ a ‘alf ‘our Dwarf. Yer gettin’ as bad as the wee Princess over t’ere.” Her Northman accent, a harsh contrast to her light melodic voice.

Nienor raised an eyebrow, continuing to sharpen her blades in easy motions. Leaning against the old, faded with time, stone walls, she imagined the old harbor at its time of glory, surrounded by Elves and music. Even now, every night, she was lulled to sleep by the soft murmur of the nearby stream running through Grey Havens and the whispering of leaves. “I always thought wasting time was a crime punishable by flogging. I should finally bring it up to the High King and see if he approves it for the White Guards.” she muttered to herself before looking at the Northerner with her usual gruffness. She hasn’t had much interactions with her kinsmen from The kingdom of Rhovanion, but she always considered them more akin to the Dwarves than her own people. Same level of bluntness and disregard for the high courts of Gondor and Rohan. She wouldn’t call them dishonorable, but the Northmen sure weren’t knights or warriors for the greater good.

Silence carried on for a few more minutes before the jolly singing of Jocko made itself known. Thumping merrily down the make-shift ladder that connected the first level from the second the Hobbit was always in the highest of spirits. “Well there’s my two hour look-out shift done who's next?” He asked dropping his swords down upon his sleeping mat before pulling out a skin of ale from his pack to enjoy.

“I believe it is mine,” Nienor stopped the whetstone halfway down the blade and moved to push it into its place. Straightening and sheathing her sword, she stretched like a cat, her hair braided up away from her face. “Unless the Master Dwarf wishes to keep me company.”

Jagmar gave a low chuckle and slowly stood up, using his halberd to aid him. “I think I shall lassie, ale makes the Hobbit gassy and I needn’t smell it so soon before dinner.” Lumbering to his feet he let out a shrill whistle and called Sorbel to his shoulder before following the warrior woman up the ladder. His legs were falling asleep as well so the movement would do him some good.

“Why a crow?” The young warrior raised an eyebrow as they began moving the second floor of the fort.

The Dwarf chuckled, pulling a bit of bread from his pocket, feeding it to the bird. “Crows and Ravens are wickedly smart animals. Smarter even than horses in some cases.” Resting his polearm against the wall Jagmar whistled again directing Sorbel to hop upon the cross guard of the weapon like a perch. “But I saved his life as a chick and once he was well he saved mine.” Moving to a large hole in the wall Jagmar restocked and relighted his pipe puffing away at it thoughtfully. “Ya hear anything from your friend Beren?” He asked bluntly, watching the young woman.

“No,” Nienor looked out into the distance as the pair climbed up the ruins to the vantage point giving a better view of the sea. “There has been no news from...from Minas Tirith. I worry about what is happening there. We can’t keep waiting for long.”

Letting out a long puff of smoke the Bounty Hunter nodded. “Aye, despite the words of the young brute downstairs, it is a worrying waste of time. Sitting here for three days just watching the endless horizon. I’m not an educated Dwarf, but is there even land beyond those waves? Last I knew it was just water in all directions.”

“The Elves speak of Valinor and Eldemar across the Great Sea,” Nienor smiled, stopping to examine the old frescoes atop the walls. While the group was welcomed by the Elves living in the East wings, the remaining shipbuilders of Valor, they decided to live in the half-destroyed ruins as the Elves were uncomfortable around so many outsiders within their halls. It had made Nienor sad as she had longed to look upon the ancient halls of the Elven citadel, but with a few broken Sindarin phrases, she was allowed an evening to roam among the fairest of Endor, drinking their wine and listening to their stories. “I am not sure that is where help will come from though. Those who return to Valinor remain there forever.”

Jagmar hmmed low in his throat. “Sounds about as possible as there being nothing but water in every direction. So if the Elves and their godly powers can’t help us, and the Wizards have all left with them. Where would help come from? Are the Gods of Man any help at times like this? My people will only bury themselves deeper and deeper in the earth until there is no way out.” The old Dwarf had long decided his life and fate were hardly worthy of some kind of divine being taking an interest in. He woke up every day expecting it to be his last and his only reward would be, being dead when the worms begin to eat him.

“From what I remember, hiding deeper and deeper never helped your people,” Nienor commented, using her hand as a visor against the sun and looked out into the endless blue. “Evur help us, I can only wish that help comes from anywhere at this point.”

Jagmar chuckled again, blowing a smoke ring off into the sky. “Aye it never has, but you try to convince one of our Kings of that. If you think I’m stubborn those gray bearded fools wouldn’t believe in rain if it fell on their heads. Just always hunting for their own Arkenstones so they can say their rule is divinely blessed like what happened in Erebor. Does your King have a plan if help never comes?” He asked quite out of the blue, but his type of tobacco has a way of bringing the darkest thoughts forward sometimes.

“The king….my uncle,” she paused, sighing as she finished her sentence. “There is no plan. If there is no hope, there will be no future. Last time, only the Elves migrated West. They brought no one with them. Now, we will witness the last of the fair folk depart Middle Earth for good.”

The Dwarf frowned but nodded. “Maybe they’ll take some more of us with them this time.” He mulled quietly, his eyes catching a faint shadow on the horizon. “Twist my beard is that...a ship? We have a ship on the horizon!” He shouted down to the others.

“Marauder Orc Tribe attack from the Northeast!” The frantic shout of Tinnu the Elf answered forcing him to duck behind some rubble as arrows began smacking against the stone. “BY DURIN’S NAME!” He shouted at the sudden volley.

“Surely your eye betrays you!” Nienor shouted, copying the Dwarf’s movements and using the stone as a shield for her back, pulling out her sword and readying it. With one hand she reached for the horn attached to her belt, ready to call for help from the Grey Haven Elves. “You really think that a ship would just appear on the horizon?!”

Jagmar snorted, pulling his halberd in close as another crash of arrows struck the wall. “Go see for yourself lass! I may have one eye, but it knows a ship when it sees one!” He rolled across the floor and tumbled down the ladder landing with a heavy thud on the level below as he rushed to grab his throwing axes and a crossbow given to him by a Dwarf from the Glittering Caves he did a job for. He hadn’t had much time to practice with it, but being under attack was as good a time as any for practice.

“For who but a Dwarf could grow up near the shores of the seas?” Nienor rolled her eyes as Jagmar rolled away. Sensing a pause in the arrows, she snuck a peek at the dim orange sky and darker waters, her eyes growing larger as two white sails steadily came closer. A stray arrow nearly catching her ear and grazing it forced her back to reality. Quietly swearing like a Rohirim, she followed more steadily after the Dwarf, slicing a few black missiles in the air as she moved down the stairs.

Back on the first floor Jocko and Damnia had joined Jagmar in losing arrows and slingstones at the rapidly approaching Orc Horde. None of the three were experts at ranged combat, but the closer the Orcs got they better they got.

Jocko quickly looked up as Nienor came into view. “Might want to give that horn a toot Princess! I don’t think those ships will get here in time before we’re all killed!”

Holding her sword in her right, Nienor grabbed the horn, bringing it to her lips. The low call of Gondor filled the Western shores with its deep sound, making its way through the yells of the Orcs and the exchange of weapons. Three calls then a pause. Again, three calls and then the Orcs were coming to them. Dropping the horn to hang from her belt, she grabbed her weapon and easily caught a strike heading for her head. The beast snarled, exposing foul teeth and a black tongue. Pushing the creature back, she struck it in the stomach, tossing back a strand of hair before shaking the body off.



Outside the fort, Lu and Tinnu

Lu had settled herself against the wall of the old fort on the outside. With Jocko busy with his watch she’d felt more comfortable to leave the company of the others and settle herself outside to gaze at the landscape and tend to the injured bird. It could now hop about on its own, but its wing still seemed too tender to use whenever she tried to mess with it, it pecked at her hands so the opted to leave it alone for now as she picked apart bits of her meal and offered it tidbits to keep it occupied.

As silent as a leaf upon the wind Lu soon found herself looking at the deep green eyes of the Elf Woman Tinnu. “He is growing strong young Orcess, you have been giving him the poultice I provided I see.” Her voice soft and almost nurturing sounding and her touch just as soft as she stroked the animal's feathers gently.

Lu only gave a short start before she realized who it was. She shifted against the wall as she nodded. “Yes, he has improved.” She agreed, offering the bird another tidbit of food. “Thanks to you.” She spoke quietly to the elf, wondering if she felt more uncomfortable in her company or the Halflings.

Tinnu chuckled musically her long silver locks swaying in the sea breeze as she sat besides the young huntress. “I just gave you the medicine, you are the one who has been caring for him. You two seem quite attached. Have you named him yet?” She asked, giving the bird a little drink from her canteen.

“Attached…” She murmured thoughtfully as the bird cocked its head up at her, its beak wet from its drink. She looked up at the Elf again as she asked if she had named it. “No.” She said after a pause. “Why would I?”

Tinnu’s smile brightened as she recapped her canteen. “Well if you plan to keep him around might be a good way to keep track of him. Especially with our Dwarven friend upstairs having a crow himself.” She tickled the bird’s neck gently before watching it hop up into Lu’s lap. “Plus naming him might make him happy. These birds are very intuitive and can sense things like emotions and react to them.”

Lu listened quietly, What would she even name it? She thought looking down at it perched on her lap. She reached out and gently pet the bird’s head as they stared at each other for a moment. “What would I name you?” she asked the bird. It cocked its head once before spreading its one uninjured wing and let out a caw. “...Caw…” She nodded with the bird and rubbed it under its chin.

Tinnu giggled approvingly. “Caw...a good strong name for a good strong bird. Once he’s well he’ll be a fine hunting companion for you my dear.” Turning to the sea Tinnu closed her eyes letting the crisp salt air wash over her. She had journeyed to this fort with Damina a day or so before Lu and her companions arrived. She loved the sea and often dreamt of the day when she would join the rest of her people on the waves as they waved good-bye to Endor and all it’s splendor. It was a day she knew would both uplift her spirits and dash them upon the rocks.

She was very young by Elf standards, being born well after the War of the Ring to the last conclave of Elves left. Her Elders told her all about their history, but much of the magic and greater tales left with Elrond and his High Elves two hundred years ago. This world and this life was all she knew and it tore her apart to think about leaving it one day. But with the arrival of these creatures she was glad some had remained to fight them off. “If you don’t mind my asking Lushak, what do you make of all this? These Wrong and their Winged master?”

“Hum.” The she-orc was quiet for a moment in thought. “It is certainly strange, They are fouler then any Orc, and far less forgiving than even the lands of Mordor.” She said looking out over the water. “Terrifying perhaps is the best way to describe it.” She said.

Tinnu’s brows furrowed as she nodded slowly. “Yes...terrifying is a good word for them. I’ve spent most of my life hunting down the last stragglers of the Dark One’s army, trying to wipe his stain completely from our home.” She looked down at her legs with a troubled expression. “But they were nothing compared to these...these...things. Mindless and savage, but also unnaturally organized acting like a single entity in every skirmish. I would slay one and two more would take its place.” She let out a low sigh and kicked her legs out towards the slowly setting sun. “I’ve never been a pessimist, but it is quite difficult to muster up hope in the face of that.”

“Yes, The human warrior said something similar.” Lu replied quietly, not seeming to have any kind of reaction to her remark on the Dark One's stains. “And yet, despite that we still fight.” She murmured looking to her hands. “It leads me to believe that Desperation and Hope are similar.”

Tinnu hmmed at the young Orc’s words. “Two sides of the same coin as they say, you are quite wise for one so young Lushak. I do hope more people come to see things from your perspective. My Elders often said the new generation would become wiser than their parents having to grow up in a war like this. Seems they were right.” She smiled, patting Lu upon her shoulder.

The She-Orc was not sure about that, but she was even less sure what to say in return. She looked to the Elf for a moment. “You and Jocko both baffle me.” She said finely. “So easily accepting, even if I’m only a half of the enemy you had before.” She said looking down as Caw pecked at her hand, wishing for more to eat, She pulled apart some more of the meat and offered the bird a small portion. “I thought Jocko was odd, or just perpetually drunk but you are neither it seems.”

Tinnu couldn’t help but let out a small snort upon being compared to the mad Took. “Well, I myself am not sure if our Hobbit companion is half drunk or just fully mad most of the time. But I’ve always found Haflings have an innate knack for reading someone perfectly after only spending a few minutes with them. Drunk or mad it doesn’t matter, once they decide upon their opinion of someone it rarely changes. As for me…?” She half asked, looking at the horizon. “I may not be as magical as the High Elves or have their otherworldly sense of the world, but I’ve experienced enough to know friends and allies can come from the most unexpected of places. And if Endor is to survive the Wrong we need to let go of old rivalries and bad blood and stand united against them.”

Lushack listened quietly to the Elf speak, following her gaze as she mulled over her words. “I don’t imagine it will be easy for most.” She said finely. “I doubt my kin will be as willing, but for now we do have a common enemy. Perhaps something will be born of that with time.” She said. “I suppose… one can only hope?”

Tinnu smiled sadly bringing her knees up to her chest before resting her chin upon them. “Indeed it won’t be easy, but that will be our only option if my Kin do not return with aid. But until then hoping is the best.” She opened her mouth to say something else when her whole body tensed she dove over Lu and the bird as a black barbed arrow embedded itself in the wall where Lu’s head once was. And just as she heard the Dwarf shout about a ship being spotted she shouted back. “Marauder Orc Tribe attack from the Northeast!” She helped Lu up before pulling them both behind the protection of the ruined stone walls of the fort.

Lu followed the Elf to shelter, clutching Caw in both hands as she ducked into safety. She growled lowly over Caw’s protests. She set the bird down safely behind the wall and peered back out. Her bow and quiver had been set right at her side, but Tinnu’s movements had jostled them over and she’d left the She-Orc little time to snatch them up along with the bird. There they lay next to the wall. She hissed softly glancing back at the Elf briefly as arrows cracked against the stone.

Lu reached back and pulled her mask over her face just before she ducked out after the second volley hit the wall. Lu was nimble enough as she slid to a stop and snatched up her bow and quiver and ducked as a second arrow attempted to pierce her head, it caught the ear of her wolf hood and tore it as she dived back behind the wall. She grumbled angrily as she got back to her feet checking the bow string before pulling free an arrow.

Tinnu quickly stepped out, covering Lu as she retrieved her weapons, an Orc dropping with each pull of her bow string. “Lushak! Get back to the main room with the others! I’ll cover you!” She said as a black arrow whizzed by her head.

Lu attached her quiver and picked up Caw. The horde growing ever closer even as they were picked off bit by bit. She didn’t say a word as she quickly ducked off, keeping low as arrows flew. One passing inches in front of her nose before she reached the safety of the door to the main room where the others were already engaging. She bent down, dropping Caw on top of a bag before stringing the arrow she had clutched with her bow and quickly finding a position she could cover Tinnu from.

As soon as Lu was safe and could cover her Tinnu moved as quickly as she could, feeling the sick buzz of arrows all around her like angry hornets. She too reached the safety of the main floor then moved a little up the wall using a fallen pillar as a platform to continue her defense. “Where did these Orcs come from?! The Marauder Tribe would never be able to get this close to the Grey Havens without the Elves knowing!”

“I don’t think any of them will tell you.” Lu called back. “Even if you asked kindly.” She watched as one of her arrows felled an approaching marauder and quickly notched a new arrow and released it, catching one in the leg making it drop to the ground. They were getting too close, close quarters combat was not her style. Lu hissed in frustration before she turned and moved for the stairs quickly scaling for the second floor to perch herself and focused her attention on the rival archers.



The hills around the Grey Havens

The Defenders could see the black eyes of the attacking Orcs as a loud trumpeting sound similar to that of an Elk call finally answered the boom of the Gondor Horn. A literal storm of golden arrows rained down upon the attacking Tribe, felling nearly a quarter of them, but this wasn’t your typical raiding party...no...this was a fullly armed war party with almost the entire Marauder Tribe present and hungering for the precious treasures that were rumored to be sailing into the Havens at this very moment. Anything that could pull warriors from the frontlines of a war must be more precious than any shiny bauble currently in their coffers. And Overlord Thrak was always looking for the next shiny bauble to add to his massive collection.

He commanded his tribe from the back seated upon a large blond Warg covered from head to toe in gold. Heavyset and very gray of skin the greedy Overlord could see the ships approaching his mouth already watering at the prospect of treasure. Holding his jeweled sword aloft he shouted his warriors forward even after the valley of arrows from the Elves hiding among the trees dropped many of them.

[Breggo13]

The Wardens, before the Orc attack.


“Land ho!” Shouted a Dalish from the crow’s nest high above the desk of the lead ship. Barq jumped to his feet and ran to the brow barking at the faint shadow of land in the distance. The crew was gathered around the helm where Laurenas stood getting ready for the briefing for shore. The second ship was floating abreast with the lead one. Most of the people were gathered, just a few stragglers were left before the briefing would begin.

As his dog ran to the front of the ship Zadkiel now dressed in his full armor followed the excitable pooch chuckling to himself. “Soon ya big galoot, quiet down.” He gripped the war dog’s collar pulling him away from the railing, the beast’s armor clanking lightly as he tried to pull back towards the waves.

Eli was one of the last stragglers, covering a yawn as she tightened her arm braces and checked her daggers in her belt. Her various arsenal of vials was carefully stashed away in their small nooks and holders all within easy access. Absently, waiting for their briefing in the back of the group, she started braiding her hair to stay out of her face, ending up beside Grif’s huge figure. “Ah, my personal umbrella,” she teased, ending up in his shadow.

Fen finished adjusting the wolf helm into place, rolling his shoulders out from the rough voyage. While having had worked as diligently as the others, the travel on the sea had not been the most pleasant, and he was more than eager to set foot on land again. Traveling light had allowed him to remain at the ready despite the time, so he could more than understand Barq’s desire to be upon land again. Though somewhat loath to admit it, Fen was not a sea dog like the mabari.

The Tal-Vashoth had spent extra time on his Vitaar on this day. Taking care to make his warpaint look as much like a Shrieker as was physically possible. At Eli’s jab the big man donned the wildest smile he had, widening his eyes to the limit and turning to look down at her. “Always happy to help.” He stated in an eerily sing-song voice.

Upon seeing his friends Zad dragged his slobbering hound towards Grif and Eli realising the dog, who saw the pair and let out a loud bark bounding over to them standing on his hind legs to lick Eli’s face. “Glad you two could make it, you ready to get off this ship as much as the mutt here?”

“What? You think I wear my best for any old occasion?” Grif said motioning to his warpaint. I got a bet to win anyway.”

“Hello Barq, hello handsome,” Eli cooed, scrunching her nose as the thick, wet tongue smacked against her skin in a happy hound greeting. Pushing the mabari down, she nodded to Zad, ruffling the dog’s fur.
The few Legionnaires on the flagship gathered together. Awarn stood at the head of them, his face was blank; And yet still looked impatient. The sooner they reached the shore the better, as far as he was concerned. The Dwarf had already considered the first move he and his men would make upon reaching landfall, and time was burning.

Azoca tried his best to keep from getting trampled underfoot of the other wardens, the sense of importance heavy in the air. Though he had been plenty excited to join the Wardens, the travel on the ship had not given him much time to actually talk with them. He had done plenty of work helping around the ships, keeping him almost running around the ship himself. Now though, having the chance to actually meet the veteran Wardens, his nerves got the better of him for the ship. Even being close to them, he couldn’t find the words to say to them, and with mission details needed, he just decided to remain silent for now. Mission first, gawking at the legends later.

Laurenas watched the varied group with a sharp eye, waiting for the rest of the Fereldans to assemble on deck. Over the past few months, all the Wardens have started to see the Elves as more than abominations of nature though not all trusted them. Unfortunately, that was a problem seen often among any Free people according to her experience and the lore of her people. Mistrust could be deadly but there was no way to heal it aside from time.

“Welcome to Endor, mellyn,” her melodic voice was soft but carried over the group like water in a bubbling stream, cool and full of some sort of raw power, dormant for now but able to be awoken if one pushed back too hard. “I welcome you to the land of my forefathers and friends. I know the journey has been hard but once we dock at Mithlond, we will be greeted by Lord Círdan as honoured guests, provided food and time to rest.”

“Laurenas, im see trast!” Eglerion’s voice cut the air with notes of tension. Frowning, Laurenas turned to look at the younger elf.

“Where? In Mithlond?” her voice was hesitant, nervous even. As much as she tried to keep her mask of calm on her face, it cracked a bit. “What do you see?”

“Orcs!” A weight seemed to be immediately lifted off Laurenas’ shoulders. “A couple dozen attacking the West ruins. There's a group under attack - I see a few humans, a hobbit and one of Durin's kin. I think I heard the horn of Gondor!”

“So did I Laurenas,” one of the other Sindarin elves responded gravely. “Someone is in trouble.”

Fen already could feel the tension and unease rolling off his body like water. Though unwelcomed, the thought of battle greeting them was a familiar weight to his bones. He had been born for war, and ready for fight at a moment. He pushed through the group and onto the edge of the bow. Straining his eyes he could see the blurry images, the sky peppered dark with arrows.

“Seems larger than a raiding party, and our side is pinned. Looks like they’re rolling out the full welcome party for us.” Da’lenfen addressed the crowd, tensing and shifting his stances, ready to start the fight.

Azoca could feel a pit deep form in his stomach. He knew they were going into a war torn land being ravaged by darkspawn. Now, they were to land in the middle of this new land surrounded by Orcs? He tried looking across the lands from the boat, not even able to see from them.

“I .. hate to ask this, as I haven’t had much chance to ask, but .. what are Orcs?” Azoca dared to ask his question, looking towards Laurenas.

When word got out that there was a party under attack, Zadkiel’s grip loosened on Barqspawne’s collar. The massive wardog slipped free and charged the rail; Leaping over with an excited bark as he cleared it. Landing with a splash and paddling furiously towards the nearest shore.

“Really wish we packed the catapult.” Grif muttered to himself before turning to the mages. “I need a shover and a catcher. A Telekinetic Burst as I jump and a Pull of the Abyss on the shore. Drop it the minute I land.” He barked. Motioning for the deck to be cleared between him and far rail. Once his path was cleared he charged forward and leapt into the air.

Azoca pulled himself back into the moment as Grif made his request to the mages. While he didn’t know the spell for burst, he could do the pull. Moving onto the bow, he watched Grif sail, pulling his eyes back to the shore as soon as the burst spell was launched. Focusing his energy, he pointed his staff towards the shore and launched his spell, focusing it onto the land. Controlling the spell, he adjusted it to only grab Grif, enough to keep him in the air just long enough to slow his fall before gently allowing him to land on the ground safely.

“Barqspawn!” Zad’s voice echoed as the mutt launched himself into the water followed by the huge Qunari. Eli rolled her eyes though her gaze focused on the large dog as he paddled towards the shore. Whatever Orcs were, she wondered what they would think of the hound and if they could cause him more harm than Darkspawn. While Eglerion seemed to think that nothing was as terrifying as the Wrong, she couldn’t be sure of something she had never seen before.

“As long as they can be killed,” she mused, flexing her fingers to warm them up.

As both his dog and his Qunari launched themselves over the rails of the ship the Constable. Shouted across the bows as the ships nearly crashed into the docks and the gangplanks were dropped.. “TO ARMS! TO ARMS! ELVES FIRST SCATTER TO WHEREVER YOU CAN GET A CLEAR LINE OF SIGHT AND DROP THESE THINGS LIKE LEAVES FROM A TREE! DWARVES! FUNNELING WALL OF STEEL! FORCE THE FRONTLINE BACK AND GIVE OUR ESCORTS SOME BREATHING ROOM! MAGES REINFORCE THE ELVES AND RAIN SOME FIRE DOWN UPON THE ENEMY'S REAR GUARD!”
With the orders given Zadkiel was the first to traditionally leave the ship and ran towards the fort to check on the escorts, his shield pinging with many angry arrows.


Ruins of Garth Uireb Maethor, Defenders of Endor.


Madness filled the air as the small group of Endroans held back the rushing horde of Orcs. Dozens littered the once lush green fields of the Grey Havens. But the horde kept coming, climbing over their dead or wounded comrades or stealing their much nicer weapons and armor for their own. This greed-fueled distraction is what allowed the Defenders to hold on as long as they did.

Lu and Tinnu were on the second floor of the ruins sniping who they could.

Jagmar and Jocko were keeping their heads down, dropping what they could when they could from the first floor.

Damina joined Nienor in front of the ruins slashing down the extra quick Orcs who had run ahead of the rest or avoided the ranged assault of the rest of the defenders.

Each warrior was sweating from the exertion and no small tinglings of fear as the Marauders drew closer and closer.

Jocko saw the ships pull into the docks and not one but two creatures leaping overboard and rushing headlong into the fray. A small barking bear and a...giant flying Orc? “What in the world was in that ale?” He asked aloud watching the pair rush by. Still in surprise he barely ducked an arrow upon seeing the “Orc” up close. “That is a very pretty Orc.” He suddenly felt the haft of Jagmar’s halberd crash upon his armored skull, “FOCUS ON THE FLYING ORC LATER HAFLING WE STILL HAVE A FIGHT TO WIN!”

As the ships arrived Tinnu let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. Hope had nearly left her heart, but seeing such a large number of allies storming from the ships filled her with a long extinguished fire. Gathering up some of the arros the Orcs had embedded in the stone work she moved closer to the broken window she was behind and began firing at as rapid a pace as she could manage.

Damina’s axe was black with Orc blood, her arms burned with effort. She had never felt so alive as when she was so close to death. She barely even registered the arrival of their helpers until a giant dog and even more giant horned man crossed her vision crashing into the brutes she had been about to strike down. Next to cross her path was a man with white hair dressed in dark red armor and wielding a silver and blue shield with some kind of winged creature on it. He bypassed her and rushed to the Princess. At first the young logger felt somewhat snubbed, but then she remembered she was a Berserker not a frilly princess. It has been two years since she used her family’s signature technique, but now was the perfect time to see if she could still do it embracing her exhaustion she belted out a fearsome holler and followed the dog and giant man into the frontlines.

Lu’s wry gaze caught the sight of the strange… orc? flying , quite literally, onto the shore. Followed by what she could only assume was a breed of warg, if a bit smaller. Still she couldn’t afford to take her attention away for long as she loosed her last arrow with a hiss of frustration and ducked back peering around and the scattered remains of the arrows flung at them. She gathered a few as quickly as she could, and used them to the best of her abilities and picked off any more archers.

Nienor growled, shouldering back the assault alongside Damina, not bothering to look to the sides, all her senses focused on the battle. Sweat rolled down her forehead to the tip of her nose but she ignored it, parrying and counter attacking the monsters as a few yells and awes called out about flying orcs, allies and help. Shaking away any desire to lose focus, she managed to push forward a few steps, leaving the woman to cover her flanks. “Fucking brutes,” she cursed, grabbing her dagger into her free hand as the strikes came faster.

In moments Zadkiel had gathered much of the information he needed upon just setting foot on the battlefield. But there were only about six defenders in the ruins and an unknown number of archers hidden in the high trees nearby. None of them looked to be in charge, an ax swinging woman screaming like a wounded she-wolf, a one-eye Dwarf and a child? Were hiding on the first floor of the ruins and he couldn’t tell exactly who was up there but at least two more defenders were on the second floor sniping the black skinned monsters. The only one who looked to be wearing some kind of military uniform was another young woman, this one with a large white horn hanging from her belt. The Warden decided she was the closest thing to a leader among these defenders.

Holding his shield close to his body he soon reached her side, cleaving the head from a monster that had gotten close to her left side. “My good Lady Knight! I am Zadkiel Cousland, Constable of the Grey, and field commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens! We and our comrades, the Dalish Elves, and the Legion of the Dead, have answered Laurnas’s call. What are these things we’re fighting?”

The first second that the flow of Orcs stopped, Nienor felt relief and had a moment to breathe. The next reply left her stunned and numb - Grey? Warden? Ferelden, Dailish and….what were the Dead doing here? Another force of Oathbreakers? Her eyes gleefully looked around, hoping to glimpse half-faded shapes sweeping the field like clouds but she saw nothing of the stories of old. The snarl of a rather large Orc brought her to reality and in a fell swoop, she sent her dagger heading to the monster’s throat.

“Orcs of the Northland. They rarely come so south but Grey Havens isn’t a fortress and many of the Elves departed. I am glad Laurnas is back,” She didn’t have time to continue, once again clashing with an opponent, breathing hard as she finished him off. Were these newcomers friends?

Zad nodded, smashing another face of an Orc before he plunged his shining sword through its chest. “Orcs of the Northland got it!” He said as if he knew what that meant, but that would one of a hundred questions they would all be asking once this was all over. “You are very mighty warriors to have held off such a horde, but I think it’s time to turn the tides.” He banged his sword upon the edge of his shield, the fine materials ringing loudly across the battlefield. Sending something like a rallying cry signalling the Dalish and Mages to begin their assaults, hails of arrows and various bolts of dangerous magic began raining down upon the Orcs.

After Zad gave his signal, it was echoed back enmass before a hundred black clad dwarves charged into the front line. Sixty of them carried shields and formed a half circle around the weary defenders. The remaining forty swung their heavy weapons over the heads and shields of their kin. Axe blades biting Orc skin, while hammers shattered orcish bones. In the center of the line Arawn’s maul launched his foes back into their brethren.

“Typical men,” Nienor wiped off her forehead against her arm, falling back and allowing the new forces to clash with the Orcs. Watching the usual Men, Dwarfs and, what she assumed, some sort of Elves, she couldn’t help staring at the horned Orc happily swinging his weapon among the group while a dog nearly the same size as the warg ripping apart Orcs like paper. Shaking her head, she cleaned her weapons off in a fell swoop before starting back toward her companions, wanting to know the current state of their small troop.

[Koti~]

Da'lenfen and Damina



Da’lenfen had sunk any emotions or exhaustion as the ship finally docked, allowing Zadkiel to take the first stride onto the docks and rush to the aid of the greeting party. As he had finally seen the Orc’s that the Elf had mentioned, he could understand why they had seemed so fearful. They looked close in figure to the Qunari, but much more mutilated. Had the Darkspawn truly twisted the beings of this land this much? Or was their lands just demented that far from their own. He barely let these thoughts register as he moved onto the docks, charging magic in through his body. The enemies in front of him seemed at least intelligent as they stopped to salvage the weapons of their fallen family, uncaring as brother and kin dropped from arrows or close weapons.

His skin rippled as he let his spell fly, allowing fur to contort and shift his body. He dropped to his hands as the form finished, changing that into the familiar form of the large wolf, getting some looks from others as he finally charged, taking up onto the ruins to peer down upon the field, letting a low growl fill his chest as arrows sailed around him, having to duck some before he finally pulling into fierce howl, letting the sound rip from his throat. It bounded across the stone and fields, drawing attention from those closest to the wall in some surprise at the large wolf staring them down. Da’lenfen took advantage of these spare moments before bounding onto the ground, claws slashing through the bodies as he moved into the fray, finding himself close to that of an axe wielding woman.

Damina’s blood boiled and her heavy axe moved like a great scythe ignoring the finer points of conflict instead dropping as many of the Orcs as she could in a single strike. She didn’t always kill them, none would be able to stand to bring a blade to meet her. A particularly large savage carrying a large jagged spear tried to use it’s reach to his advantage, but she splinted the shaft and was just about to finish him off when a sight she never expected to see lunged forward. A Warg? Fighting against the Orcs? She thought jumping back as the wolf took down her target.

“Ya fuckin’ mutt! T’at one was mine!” Her voice was still husky with rage, her accent becoming even thicker.

Da’lenfen looked to the source of the voice, glaring at the woman before tossing the dead body into the swarming horde, knocking down a few with the body parts. The rumble was still deep in his chest as he studied the woman, smelling the mixture of blood and sweat upon her from dead Orcs. One could see sarcasm in his eyes as he lunged into the next horde, claws and fangs ripping into the Orcs that had tried to overwhelm them. Fen couldn’t believe the strangeness that the woman would be complaining about who killed what, when their lives were on the line. There was some anger at having been called a mutt by one that they had come to save them. In earnest though, he had been called worse, so mutt almost seemed a compliment at this point.

As the strange wolf looked back seeming to understand her words, Damina shook her head as the creature went back to battle. “Oi, Ah’m naw gunna allow some mad warg tae kill moare t’an me!” Leaping after the dog she changed her approach once more focusing on single or maybe two foes at a time making sure she kills with each swing smirking madly at the wolf. “Caume on puppy!” She laughed striding past the wolf dropping two more Orcs.

Was this woman insane? She now addressed him as some type of warg, that Fen guessed was a large wolf of some sorts. Even now, he was trying to make the fighting into a contest of battle. He had to give her a small bit of confidence, willing to brave a massive army just for a battle of numbers. The brash actions of her made him shake his head, wondering what kind of training that this woman had gone through to be so brazen. They were in the middle of a battle, a fight for their lives, and she was worried about how many he could kill over her?

He let out another large howl, letting the sound ripple through the mass of black flesh as he pounded forward. The combination of Orc blood pooling across his fur and flesh was just enough to stop some of them, allowing him to bowl headlong into them, fangs ripping into them as his claws struck hard. He ripped through them, striking down hordes to forge ahead. While there some may have still been alive, his goal was to push through enough, letting dead corpses act as the shield while cutting a path forward.

Damina swore loudly as she began falling behind. This wasn’t a normal Warg, even they couldn’t move so fast. And this mutt had some kind of intelligence behind it’s savage eyes, what in the flame of Mordor was she fighting besides? As the Dalish and Mages began their assault the horde thinned and Damina caught up to the blood-soaked wolf. “Wut the fuck are yu?!” She shouted at the Not-Warg not even being sure if it could respond to her.

As the horde began to thin some, Fen was given a chance to pause for a moment. Magic from the shores began to rain down, sending the battlefield into a state of chaos. Letting himself shake off some of the blood, the woman from before finally caught up with him. She questioned just what the fuck he was. It was somewhat refreshing to hear such bluntness, though they just had a moment to respond. Looking down at his form, he wondered if they had wolves in their lands, looking over his blood soaked form and back at her. He looked back towards the ruins at the iron wall of shields. He pointed one paw back towards them, taking the moment before taking down Orcs that had gotten just within range. Hopefully her brutish nature had enough training to understand that he meant ally.

Focusing back into the battle at hand, he could just make out the obvious leader, cowering behind the horde, decked out in gold. Even without the strong light, he could easily see the glittering buffoon atop a very ugly beast of sorts. The only reason Fen knew it was the king, was just the decadence of his attire. Feeling a deep rumble of his chest, Fen pointed to the two of them, and then to the king as he ripped through another Orc, Orc limbs falling in chunks as Fen crouched down, ready to charge into the hordes again.

Damina understood the mutt’s odd signals, but the fact they were coming from a weird Warg just left the woman nodding her head absently. Her rage was still burning within her, but the longer she delayed between killing the quicker it would fade. The last things she saw before the Not-Warg ran towards the Orc Overlord were fireballs and arrows falling all around them, but whoever was slinging them were skilled and accurate because she didn’t even feel the heat as a fireball incinerated six Orcs to her left. And thundering toward her and the Not-Warg was a wall of grim faced Dwarves led by a glowing Dwarf of some kind with a giant maul. She had never bothered to fantasize about what type of help would come if any, but this would likely be what she would think of. For the first time an ember of victory began burning with her chest. Letting out another wild yell she caught up to the Not-Warg killing with him, but still keeping track of their kill count.

Fen paid barely any attention to the shadow that followed him, only noting her by the sudden death of an Orc, or the flash of her body as he sliced an Orc that had gotten close. He wasn’t sure if it was the fever of battle, or just the exhilaration of battling again, but he could find himself enjoying this. The woman who fought with him reminded him of a bear, one of the larger creatures he had walked with before. There was no finesse or elegance in her movements. She was brutish and bold, smashing and striking Orcs that he let move beyond him, or those that he had left alone on his path. It felt akin to fighting with an animal in the woods, and it did bring joy knowing that the lands of the Elves were not full of those types of people.


Revion and Azoca

‘Okay, now is the time to prove my skills!’ Aszoca thought, gripping the staff as he responded in unison with the mages, moving off the ship into a defensive position along with the other mages. He felt that small bubble of eagerness grow inside his gut, finally having a chance to prove that he was the right choice for this mission. The nervous energy was enough to carry him onto shore, but upon setting himself up, that bubble burst like swamp gas, leaving nothing but a foul stench and nausea residing. The field before him was nothing like he expected, not by a long shot. He swallowed the rising panic as his senses were assaulted on all fronts.

The fields in front of him were chaos, small pockets of people killing the Orcs. Body parts and blood littered the grounds, the visceral fluids turning the ground to a foul soupy mud. The clash of metal and bodies assaulted his ears, the shouts and yells barely reaching over them. Azoca tasted bile in the back of his throat as he gripped the staff tight in his hands, lost in the confusion of all that was going on. He wasn’t sure where to even start, watching the other mages around him launching spells into the writhing black mass, casting wards or defensive barriers for allies, even some he could see were already set on healing those who had become wounded.

He felt lost, completely overwhelmed by the sheer hysteria of battle around him.


Revion looked upon the young mage, his eyes glancing over the boy as he sent another volley of fire upon the enemies. He felt annoyance rise in his mind as he moved over to the man in a few swift strides, hand raised and cupping the young man just behind the ears. He had already been frustrated that the circle would send one so inexperienced to the fight with them, but now the boy couldn’t even keep his wits about him.

“Focus, you daft child! This isn’t a time to be looking like a lost sheep, there is a battle to fight.” Revion shouted to the boy over the din of fire, erecting a barrier to stave off a volley of arrows, feeling his energy drain as they plinked harmlessly to the ground at their feet.

Azoca was jolted forward as the blow landed on his head, shaking him from the rut as he saw Revion leaning over him, berating him for being lost just as he defended them against Orcish arrows that had nearly skewered them. Azoca’s face was pale, knowing that if it hadn’t been for the older mage, he would have already died. While he had studied and learned combat.

Another blow to the head stopped his thoughts short, but much softer than before.

“Idiot child, this isn’t the time for fantasy. We were given orders, so get to work. This isn’t a class training, and you will die, so get your head out of the clouds. I’m not here to babysit mages.” Revion shouted. Azoca nodded solemnly, turning back to the fight as he began charging magic. Now he understood why Revion had been unhappy that the Elders had allowed this young upstart to replace Oolan in the mission.

Azoca looked to the field, trying to find the best spot to cast his spell, wondering what would be the best place to unleash it. He didn’t want to take long, so once he found one of the more dense packs of Orc’s, Azoca unleashed the makers hammer, feeling the mana leave him as the spell smashed down. He could feel his stomach roil as he watched bodies become flattened to the ground, limbs crushed by the unseen force, those around stumbling from the unsuspecting shockwave.

“Fool! Don’t just be casting spells without thought. Use them wisely. Just casting them without thought is going to waste your magic before we even get through the start of the battle.” Revion shouted at him, scaring the young mage as he set out a concussive volley of immolate, giving it a few moments to catch his breath as several Orcs fell in flaming heaps upon each other.

“What? But, I did as asked.” Azoca shot back, not sure at all what the older mage meant.

“You know pull of the Abyss, yes?”

“I d-”

“Then pull more targets together before using Makers hammer. You’ll use more magic, but hit many more targets. This isn’t mage basics.” Revion ordered the young mage, having to pause and catch his breath. He knew casting this much magic would be draining, and was more than pleased to let the other mages in his detachment take over for a few moments as he glared at the boy.

“Well? Get to it!” Revion shouted when the boy stalled again.

“Yes Sir!” Azoca shouted, jumping in his skin as he turned back to the field. Planting his feet into the ground, he pulled his magic together, picking a spot that looked rather packed. Focusing on a spot just above them, he funneled his mana into his Pull spell, pulling Orcs, bodies, and even arrows into a giant pile, the sound of rushing wind lost as he quickly switched over to casting Makers hammer. His pull spell had just run out when He cast the spell, watching with much more devastating effects as several bodies were smashed into the ground, body parts flying outwards as the Orcs were smashed into an almost unrecognizable pile of flesh and bone.

Azoca couldn’t help as his stomach roiled heavily at the gruesome sight, nearly making him vomit. Only shock kept it down as he stared at the destruction he had caused, even with the minor disorientation at having cast the two spells so close together.

“Good. Do that again once you catch your breath. Don’t stop until the bodies stop twitching or the enemies are gone.” Revion instructed as he returned his focus back onto the fight. The boy would be a hindrance for the start, but he couldn’t lie that he was at least quick on the uptake, if it took a bit of rough handling to get him to actually fight like a mage.

[P.K.]

Lu peered over the wall. The battle field had taken on a new shape in a matter of seconds. The ships had arrived and delivered not one new ally but hundreds. they flooded the shore with their unfamiliar armor and yet she recognized men, elf and dwarves. the only thing she didn't recognize was the large horned Orc Driving his way into the black hordes below and two very different looking wargs? It was baffling but the show had only just started.

Magic, the likes that she'd never seen, not that she'd lived when the wizards were around, rained down upon the enemy, dropping numbers in swaths. even more terrifying was the invisible force that crushed groups into unrecognizable chunks. Lu was not so easily sickened by the sights of blood and gore but even that made her stomach roil a bit. She turned her attention else where, eyes peeking over the edge of the wall. Once again she'd spent her arrows, her arms ached and her chest heaves as she studied the new dwarves shinning defense, and the wizards all from the vantage point of the wall as the numbers slowly thinned.

She glanced down as Nienor approached once more, their new allies now taking up their place and allowing them some reprieve. Lu decided to remain on the wall, gathering up the unbroken arrows littering the wall, replenishing her supply for the moment as she had a moment to breath. the fight wasn't over just yet but she was grateful for the moment of rest as she slunk back over to the cover of the wall, testing her string as she gazed back out over the battle field. Help had arrived, was this what hope felt like?

[Dnafein]

Griffin almost hit the ground running. While the mage who gave him a push was spot on, whoever cast the pull held it till the Qunari hit the ground. This slowed the warden briefly, as he still managed to force himself forward towards the skirmish. A smirk appeared on his face at the barks that followed him from the water.

His long legs ate the ground between the shore and the fort quickly. He charged into the orcish horde. His drawn blades slapped the first several he passed. Causing the orcs to stiffen as electricity surged through their muscles. Grif twirled his blades as shrieks of orcish terror reached his ears from behind as the massive dog ripped into the first of the orcs regaining their ability to move.

The Oxman still managed to tower over his opponents. And so was obviously the first thing spotted by those orcs who glanced towards the screams. Orcish eyes took in a massive horned figure with wild yellow eyes in it’s skull-like face. With a roar, Grif started slashing the orcs around him. The visual sending foes screaming in terror into the horde. Unable to contain himself Grif started laughing as he cut those who turned to face him down.

Opponents who managed to block the Qunari’s attacks stiffened and screamed in pain as lightning flowed through them. Behind him he could hear growls, barks and huffs as Barqspawne tore through the orcs as well. The pair spread terror as they carved a path.
Grif winced as a fireball incinerated a group behind him, This caused more orcs to flee before him. A word reached his ears from those fleeing. “Balrog, Balrog!”

Grif cocked his head wondering what the word meant. His eyes landed on an impressively ugly orc coated in gold. Deciding he’d found someone to ask Grif charged in that direction. His blades cut a path through the horde between him and the target. The Qunari sheathed a cutlass and ripped an axe from a surprised orc’s hand as he passed. The axe exited the wardens hand in a smooth throw. Taken an Oleg in the knee.

Grif used the Oleg as a springboard, running up the large orc and leaping towards the gold coated overlord. Grif’s massive empty hand grabbed Thrak’s face as he passed. Pulling the orc from his mount. The Warden rolled as he hit the ground coming up on his feet, a cutlass in both hands. Thrak recovered and turned to face the Qunari, stiffening at the site. Grif offered a horrifying smile and spoke. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but could you tell me what a Balrog is?”

Thrak recoiled at the sight, confusion coloring his eyes. The orc had no idea who this creature was, but he heard a reassuring growl behind him. The Overlord smiled wickedly as the sound of his bodyguard rushing to his aid reached his ears. “Yer’ll find out when we feed yer body to one.” The overlord smiled readying his wickedly curved sword and moving toward his large foe.

Grif smirked as a howl ripped through the nearby air and a grey and brown streak slammed into the side of the warg. The two rolled each trying to get a better position on the other; The ball of muscle fur and armor rolled into the Overlords body guards pulling them into the conflict. The two separated briefly as the bodyguards fled. The blood coated Mabari clinked in his armor as he growled low at the blonde warg, who returned the favor as they circled each other.

Thrak jumped in surprise as his support was stripped from him. With a snarl he turned back to the oxman. “Yer’ll pa-” Was all he got out as the Tal-Vashoth closed as he was distracted. Metal met metal and the Orc squealed. The Qunari spun his blades and pushed a furious attack, lightning trailing in the path of the weapon as he struck. The overlord managed to deflect attack after attack. His weapon barely intercepting the strikes.


~~~~~

Nearby the Warg lunged at his armored foe, the hound shifted to impose his armor between his opponents attack. This teeth reaching for the warg’s leg. Again the canids combat rolled into a ball as each throw their weight around. Twisting and snapping as they reached for purchase. Snarls, yips and growls drifted from the conflict.


~~~~~

Grif ceased his barrage of attacks, his smile hadn’t left his face. Thrak sensing the slow in attacks pressed his own. The orc ground his teeth against the bites that flowed down his arms every time his strange foe’s weapons met his. Still this was the orc’s chance. Throwing the strength that had beaten dwarf, elf, human even his fellow orcs into his strikes he attacked the horned man.

Grif slapped most of the strikes away, studying the orc’s movements. Finally, he simply blocked a massive overhead swing with his crossed cutlasses. Shifting in his grip he pushed the orc back a step. Thrak’s eye’s widened as he was pushed off balance; the Qunari’s feet shifted and he kicked the orc’s ankle out from under him.


~~~~~

The Canid’s conflict had moved them clear of conflict between their peers. The warg limped as the combatants slowly circled each other. Barqspawne had his armor to thank for avoiding major injury. Both canids however sensed the end of the fight was upon them. The lunged again, the warg aiming for the armored throat. Barq sensed the move and ducked his head, protecting his shorter throat as his mouth clamped down. The warg’s lower jaw caught in the warhound’s grip. Throwing his weight behind his every twist and tear Barqspawn tore at his opponents weakness. The warg leapt and tugged trying to free itself, trying to escape. A sharp crack filled the air as did an ear piercing yelp. Barqspawne’s grip tightened as he tugged again, harder. Flesh ripped as the two foes separated; A spray of blood splattered the trampled grass. The warg stumbled trying to run. The Mabari leapt upon his injured foe, more bones snapping. The warhound seized his opponents throat and with a jerk ended the conflict.

With a satisfied “Hurf” Barqspawne looked back to the conflict; His head cocked as he looked for where he was most needed. With a howl he charged back into the conflict.


~~~~~

The two humanoids fell, the orc to his back while the oxman stopped himself on a knee. The orc’s blade tumbled away from his hands while the Warden’s cutlasses moved to control his opponent. These weren’t Darkspawn and as such Grif felt it only fair to offer the orc his life. Thrak however had another idea. A poisoned dagger pulled from it’s hidden sheathe slashed across the Qunari’s face.

With a victorious laugh the orc shoved against his opponent and met a wall. Grif’s eyes held a hint of anger as the smear of poison across his war painted face dripped away. Thrak’s eye’s widened at the lack of a cut, struggling incredulously against this impossible foe. Grif ended the overlords nightmare, his cutlasses separating the head from the body.

Getting to his feet, the warden reached down grabbing a golden chain attached to an ear, flinging it towards the Legionaries and the horde attempting to force their way past. The overlords body twitched at the warden’s feet as the remains of the lightning played with his nerves. Straightening to his full height Grif released another roar.

[SikstaSlathalin]

With the arrival of the Wardens the battle quickly turned in favor of the Defenders. The Orcs were either wiped out or run off by the sheer ferocity of the counterattack. Such a large force landing on the shores of Endor was already unheard of, but they came hurling magic. No one but the Five Wizards or Elves have ever been able to use magic. It was a sight to see for the Endorans, but questions would come later. Right now the defenders needed to take stock of who was hurt.

As the reinforcements took over the defense the defenders lowered their weapons nearly dropping them from exhaustion. Jocko was the first to sit down and began pouring some ale on his bleeding wounds before wrapping them. Tinnu while far from as exhausted as the Hafling still let out a tense sigh and slumped to the ground of the second floor dropping her head back in a pose of sheer relief that this wasn't meant to be her last day.

Jagmar on the other hand stood tall and at the ready enthralled in how the black armored Dwarves moved and fought like a single creature very much like how he witnessed the Wrong doing. But with how efficiently they moved he was sure their skills were just the result of unwavering training. Keeping his crossbow ready he moved to meet Nienor outside the ruins nodding to her as she approached. "So who do we owe free drinks to lassie?" He asked keeping one eye on Nienor and the other on the Orc horde as it was being completely demolished by their Saviors.

“I wish I knew,” Nienor responded, wiping the sweat off her forehead with her armguards, wearily looking at the newcomers and hoping to at least see someone she knew in the mix. Thankfully, the Endoran Elves were easily distinguished from the newcomers and, try as she might to hide it, that allowed a weight to come off her shoulders. If the Elves trusted these strangers, perhaps they were not that horrible.

Jagmar chuckled, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. “I saw you talking with the man in red armor, did he not introduce himself?”

“If he did, I didn’t care much for it,” Nienor shrugged, thrusting her sword into the ground to rid the blade of blood. “At that point, I was glad for a moment to wipe the sweat off my brow.”

Jagmar laughed loudly looking towards the group of warriors he assumed to be the leaders. The man in red armor, the tall grey man, and one of the grim Dwarves, the one with a large maul. Seems he would need to be the Ambassador this time around. “You young'uns, no manners whatsoever.” He laughed leaving Nienor to her own devices moving towards the men.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

Zadkiel sheathed his sword and slung the shield over his back before he dropped onto a large stone to catch his breath. “Well guess those are Orcs.” He said softly leaning back on the stone.

Arawn marched among his Legionaries. “Day’s not done. Back to the docks boys. We need to tear our ship apart.” The Dwarf barked, chivving his Dwarves towards the docks.

Looking up Zadkiel sighed looking for the Qunari, not finding him he decided to handle it himself.
“Arawn.” He said moving to the stout defender. “Why are you planning to tear our ship apart? And I do hope you don’t plan to destroy the Elves’ ship too?

Arawn turned towards the voice at his name. “Ship’s made of good strong wood.
Properly flexible to. Should be able to get a ballista or three out of it.” He answered the first question. “The Legion doesn’t steal, Constable;” The dwarf answered the second. “Although, additional ballista would allow us to kill more Darkspawn, and faster. Think we should?”

The Champion hmmed lightly. “And how do you plan to harvest and carry all this wood Master Dwarf?”

“Tear the ship apart.” Arawn said as if it was obvious. “Then the legion builds the ballista. A number of us know how.”

The man chuckled lightly. “And do you all plan to rebuild the ship exactly how it was when the time comes to leave?” He crossed his arms over his chest watching the Dwarves.

“For four years the Darkspawn have torn through this land Constable. Relatively unchecked, that’s four years of breeding we will have to face and hunt down. If we manage to kill the Archdemon the job will be easier.” Awarn shrugged diffidently. As if it didn’t matter what he said. “Do you really think any of us are going home?”

“I most certainly will be.” Griffin said as he approached the pair, smirking.

“I plan to as well Master Arawn, I’m sure the Endorans have siege weapons already built. I do not think we need to destroy our one means home.”

“Aye, the Men and Dwarves all have many siege weapons. Name’s Jagmar One-Eye.” The gruff voice of a much older Dwarf was heard sounded by the soft clink of a polearm on the dirt. Jagmar said as he approached the three males a new bandage on his cheek.

“Those are likely to be on the other side of the walls we will likely find besieged.” Arawn said simply.” Turning to study the new voice. “However if your orders are not to proceed as planned…” The Legionnaire trailed off, leaving the statement as a question.

Jagmar rubbed his beard slowly. “Lad, you talk strangely for a Dwarf. Despite the numbers of these...Darkspawn, they have yet to lay siege to any of the Men’s mains cities.”

Zad glanced at Grif before glancing back at the Dwarves. “Yes, please don’t proceed with tearing the ship apart for now.”

The Qunari’s hand made a back and forth motion behind the Dwarves. His brow drawn down at the local’s comment. “None of the human cities have been attacked?”

Jagmar looked up and up at the big gray man. “So you’re the pretty Orc Jocko’s been claiming he saw flying into battle. I said none have been besieged, the freaks have attacked every settlement in Endor. But for the most part they leave once we kill what the Men have come to call the Warlords of each skirmish. Or they just seem to get bored and leave.”

Zad stifled a chuckle at Grif being called a pretty Orc to his face. “We call Orcs like him Qunari.” Upon the one-eyed Dwarf’s mention of how the Darkspawn have been acting. “We call those Alphas or very rarely an Omega, Master Jagamr. But getting bored? That’s a new one on me.” He looked at Grif and Arawn for some kind of confirmation.

“They called me Balrog,” Grif said, throwing a thumb towards the corpses still on the field. “Whatever the hell that means. And Darkspawn don’t grow bored. Unless there isn’t anything to kill.”

Arawn went still at the description. “Sounds like early Deep Road attacks. Legion records aren’t perfect, but seems like when they started probing the Thaigs for weaknesses before they learned what they needed to know.”

Jagmar once again watched the strange dark armored Dwarf as he talked. “Not sure what a Thaig is, but that’s something we have discussed back in Minas Tirith. We didn’t give the Wrong that much intelligence though. How much do they need to learn before they decide on a full plan of attack?”

Arawn shrugged. “I wasn’t there, I don’t know.” He stated. “What one normally needs to learn before attacking their target I would surmise. Weaknesses in the walls, where the ground is softest, thinning the defenders.”
Grif nodded. “Makes sense. The Fifth Blight probably would have gone a different route if Cailan didn’t get wiped out with half his army.” He smirked at Zad, “Or if there were more than three of us in Ferelden when the horde marched on Denerim.”

Zadkiel laughed lightly. “If there were more than three of us, the Fifth Blight likely wouldn’t have been so bad. Still the Legion of the Dead would know more about how the Darkspawn act between Blights. Warden records have also talked about other kinds of Darkspawn The Architect and The Mother. So I guess the Darkspawn testing a fortress's wall wouldn’t be that far-fetched.”

Jagmar pulled out his pipe and loaded some tobacco into the bowl lighting it. “I thought these Wrong were confusing before. Now there’s Architects and Mothers running about.” Taking a long few pulls from his pipe he continued. “So I assume the big bloody Dragon the Wrong have on their side is important too?”

“Nah,” Grif started, throwing a smirk at Zad. “Giant unkillable dragons leading hordes of creatures intent on killing everything they come across are never important.”

Zadkiel shook his head, chuckling before he grabbed Grif’s horn, shoving his head lightly. “Yeah so unimportant only one of our Order can kill it.” Turning back to Jagmar he nodded. “That is called an Archdemon. It’s the leader of the Darkspawn, created from a Dragon that got corrupted by the monsters...somehow.”

Jagmar closed his eye puffing on the pipe more. “And only one of you can kill it?” He looked at Arawn, Zad, then Grif. “Which one and how does that work?”

“The Legion of the Dead just hold the line in the Deep Roads.” Grif said. “You need a Warden to kill an Archdemon. And that’s a trade secret. So unless you wanna sign up.” He chuckled and threw a questioning look at Zadkiel.

The human nodded slowly placing his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Yes, only a Grey Warden can kill an Archdemon. Fate works funny like that.”

Jagmar grumbled lightly puffing more on his pipe. “Sounds like more hassle than it’s worth, you lads can keep your Warden nonsense. I do thank you for all for coming to our aid though.”

Zadkiel nodded to him once more. “As Grey Wardens, it is our duty to fight Darkspawn and wipe out Blights as they pop up.”

Jagmar simply nods slowly puffing on his pipe. “Lucky us then, well I’m sure my comrades have many more questions to ask you lot, but mayhaps we should move off the field of battle first. Not far from here there’s an inn called the Prancing Pony in the town of Bree. There’s lodging and good food there. Should be a better place to ask questions.”

With a nod Zadkiel found no flaw with the one-eyed Dwarves reasoning. “Sounds good Master Jagmar.” He turned to Grif and clapped his shoulder nodding back to the other Wardens and Dalish. “Gather up the troops Griffin tend to our wounded if any. It doesn’t look like we lost any one.” He then looked down at Arawn. “I doubt even less of your men are injured, but gather them up as well please Arawn.” He looked up at the sky judging the time. “We’ll move out in an hour and a half.”

“Not far, you mean a week’s journey, Dwarf?” Nienor couldn’t help the jibe, coming close to the group with Laurenas having been exchanging with the Elf in Sindarin much to the Elf’s pleasure.

Jagmar smirked, blowing a ring of smoke at the human woman. “For a Dwarf that’s not far at all Princess. Besides I doubt our Elvin friends would want to put up with so many stomping around their home.” He nodded to Laurenas.

“I am not sure Bree would be happy either,” Nienor muttered though Laurenas put a calming hand on the warrior.

“Peace, Muinthel,. There is truth in this proposal - you need horses for your journey East and the road will be treacherous. Men, Dwarfs and Elves are fighting for protection. We may be allies but the nature of the Free Men will force them to protect their own,” sadness passed across the fair features of the woman. “We can come with you as far as Rivendell.”

Nienor frowned, crossing her arms but she had nothing to reply. She herself was aching to be back with her men in the front lines, fighting with Beren and her uncle, protecting those who looked up to her.

Zadkiel still had his arms crossed listening to the exchange between the armored woman, one-eyed Dwarf, and the Elf woman. “We do not wish to impose upon anyone, my force is full of veterans who have spent much of their fighting lives afield. We can sleep anywhere big enough to pitch tents. I will just need time to gather our people and take them...somewhere. I suppose this Rivendell will do.”

Grif shrugged, “The Dalish Keeper will most likely just want to head wherever we’re going.” The warden scratched his cheek idly. “You know how El-” He laughed throwing an apologetic look towards Laurenas, “The Dalish are.”

“Would rather take the direct path myself.” Arawn added. “Not many see the Legion marching and think easy prey. Those that do never repeat the mistake.”

Jagmar chuckled, taking a few more pulls of his pipe. “And once word gets around you have Wizards on your side no one will even come around to see your Legion march lad. Our job is to escort you to the Kingdom of Gondor and meet the King of Men. It’s an even longer march there.”

“If Gondor still stands,” Nienor glared at the ground, clutching her hands into fists. “Excuse me, I want to pay my respects to the Lord of Grey Haven if we are to leave shortly.” Spinning on her heels, she strode towards the wing of the city still containing the Elvish dwellings. Laurenas watched her go before sighing.

“It has been a long four years my friends, Princess Nieonor has been on the front lines of many conflicts. Seen many friends die, please excuse her...brusqueness. You are all welcome to stay with my Kin until you are refreshed. Just seek me out whenever you are ready to leave.” She bowed slightly before turning to see to her comrades.


Zadkiel sighed as well. “Will do Lady Laurenas.” He looked towards Grif and Arawn once more. “Same orders and time frame gentleman, but I suppose we’ll be heading for this Rivendell place instead. Also Griffin, ask the Keeper and Senior Warden of the Mages to meet with me for any injured or dead they may have. I will be keeping a log.”

“Sure, although unless this Rivendell has a couple hundred mounts odds are some of us will be marching anyways.” Grif pointed out the obvious. “And the Dalish aren’t likely to ride, the stuffed to bring those Halla of theirs; Do the local Elves use those landships as well?” He directed towards a local in earshot.

Having been quiet for most of this exchange Jagmar chimed in to answer the grey man’s question. “Our Elves use horses, but on foot they are nearly as swift and sure-footed as deer. But if a landship is anything like a wagon, aye they have those and we can pile most of you into those for the trip. Now if you’ll excuse me lads, it seems my de-facto human leader is crying somewhere so I need to tend to our comrades in her stead.” Tipping his pipe in farewell he turned and walked his way back towards the ruins.

Grif shrugged. “Well I guess we’re off to Rivendell?” The Qunari started off to gather the troops. “Yay.” He muttered sarcastically as he did so.

Arawn marched off calling the legion to order. The dark clad dwarves scurrying to report in.

Now standing alone Zadkiel let out a low sigh rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re off to Rivendell.” He answered Grif’s question quietly to himself before moving back to the battlefield.

[P.K.]

Safe on the upper levels with her elven companion Lu watched the tides of battle turn in their favor with the arrival of their new allies. Not an unusual sight of men, dwarves and elves. But that horned being was certainly odd as well as the fact that they had magic. As the orc raiders started to flee she let out a sight and sank down behind the wall to rest her wry arms.
As she caught her breath she once again peered over the wall at the commotion below. Nienor and Jagmar had ventured off to speak to what appeared to be those in charge of the allies that had come from the ships. Including the tall gray horned orc.
Doubtless discussing the raid and their next move. Nienor would doubtless be eager to return back to the front lines of her people. She had yet to see Jocko out and about. A little worried for her halfling companion, and Caw who she’d left below she picked up her bow and the few scavenged arrows she had left and began to creep for the stairs, leaving the elf to continue to rest.
She crept down the stairs as she looped her bow over her head so it hung across her back. Caw was hopping about the floor, thankfully not under foot now that things had settled down. And once he spotted her let out a loud Caw and hopped her way, flapping his good wing.
She scooped him up and scrutinized the small bird but there were no new injuries. “I am glad you are safe.” She told the bird who cocked its head at her as she gently rana finger over its head. “Now where is Jocko?” she wondered and began to creep around the fort to seek out her slightly larger companion..

Azoca had kept an iron grip on his staff, his nerves completely frayed. The battle had been chaos from start to finish, the sounds of crushed bodies and agonized screams bouncing around his skull. Revion had already left to check up on fellow mages, making sure they were alive and mostly in one piece. Azoca was tunnel visioned on the gore that used to be a battlefield. He could see Fen and the barbarian woman finishing off the last bits of this prey, and Zad meeting up with the supposed leader of the group they had just saved. Grif had returned after killing the obvious ruler of the orcs.

Regardless of all that, this had been nothing like the mock battles and missions he had been on. He was sure that the second he let go of his staff, he would have fallen over. His attention was drawn by the distraught cawing of a crow, snapping his focus towards the woman orc that now held the small bird. The lady was similar to the orcs they had just killed, yet her outfit and relaxed demeanor didn't quite fit. None of this fully registered in his mind.

All that he saw was another orc in their midsts, unaware and ignored by most others. He couldn't work up his voice to say something, worried he would just hurl, but his body was still able to react. Drawing on what fumes were left in him, Azoca rushed towards her, stumbling some as he raised his staff to strike her. He let out a choked yell, barely heard by most as he came into range, trying to bury his panic underneath bravado.

The half-orc hadn’t gotten too far in her search as Caw seemed rather agitated, gaping his beak up at her and cawing. Perhaps he was also unsettled by the scene of battle, or perhaps he was hungry again. “There’s nothing out there worth eating.” she grumbled at the bird. Her wandering eyes caught quick moments coming up on her side making her turn quickly. A young looking man was charging with a staff. Even in her quick glance she could see him stumbling clumsily with his attack and in the next moment she quickly leaped to the side quickly putting distance between her and the young man.

A small hiss left her but she stilled her hands from reaching for her dagger as she moved into a semi crouch position, carefully cradling the protesting bird in one arm away from the stranger. He was dressed similarly as the allie from the beach, she wasn’t entirely surprised at the attack, after all she too was an orc. She held out one hand towards him. “I am not your enemy.” She said tensely.

Azoca pushed himself off the wall, having nearly planted himself into it. Hearing the orc woman speak was enough to make him pause, though the shock was starting to wear off. He released a shaky sigh, gripping his staff while holding himself upright. His eyes studied her, trying to discern if she was telling the truth. Right now no one seemed to be attacking her, and those who they had come to defend were not rushing to end her.

"Sorry.. sorry it's just. This was, what I mean is… I have no idea what is going on." Azoca spoke, letting it all out in a rush. Now that the adrenaline was wearing down, he couldnt help but replay the battle in his head. The orcs not being human had certainly helped separate the fight, but that bloodshed.

"Did all that really just happen?" Azoca waved back to the field, daring not to turn his head back towards that field.

Lu relaxed a fraction as the young man began to apologize. “There’s no need.” She said simply. “I am a half-orc after all.” She raised an eyebrow though as he went further and began to spill just how new he was to the battlefield. “You’ve never been… in a real fight before?” She questioned watching him closely as he waved to the battlefield.

She turned her head, regarding the field of carnage for a moment, her stomach settled now from the initial shock of… seeing orcs being smashed into unrecognizable bits. She cleared her throat before turning her full attention back to the young man. “Yes.” she replied quietly. “And it's unfortunate for you, but this is likely what the future will look like for you as you enter into the war torn fields back at gondor.”

"This was a real fight? That seemed more like throwing rocks around." Azoca spoke with a hiccup in his voice, letting out a deep shaky sigh. He was glad that she wasn't an enemy, but there was nothing that he wanted more than to forget all this. Was this honestly what everyone had known going into this? Did they all expect that this was the norm for being out here. The weight of the situation had finally begun to sink in, and it showed upon his face as it paled more than he thought possible.

"I.. I never thought it would be like this. I can't even imagine how things must be further if you said it gets worse. All the books and theories I've read are about honor and duty in battle. Complex strategy and cunning plans." Azoca began feeling himself get rather heated before looking to the people around him. He could see the exhaustion and warriness on those alive, the pain and sadness that he felt hung above him like a cloud. No, he couldn't let this swallow him up. He wanted to prove himself a warrior and had been meant for this mission.

"Sorry. Again. It's just, I had not expected this first thing off the boat." Azoca said with a sigh, allowing himself to finally slump down and rest against the wall. He could feel himself shaking some, his staff resting by his side.

The half orc watched the young man slide back against the wall. And from here she slowly stood to her full height and looked down at him. “The first time is often the worst.” she said. “You’ll get used to it.” she said. She wasn’t sure how to comfort someone who did not know the horrors of battle and war and death, but she had been raised beside such horrors so they were not so new to her.

“You do not need to apologize to me.” Lu said simply shrugging into her wolf cloak and readjusting the bird who gripped in complaint. She sighed after a moment and crouched down She, setting the bird down and pulled free her water pouch and cupped her hand pouring a little into it to allow the bird to drink. As the bird drank she held out her pouch to the boy. “Drink.” she said simply.

"Thanks." Azoca spoke as he took the pouch. Taking a swig of the water, he let it rest in his hands for a few moments before taking a second lower swig and letting out a deep sigh. Being able to address everything that had happened was a huge relief, even if it didn't wash away the feelings. He studied the orc lady in front of him, watching the crow drink from her hand.

"My name's Azoca, by the way. I don't think we've had a chance to properly meet." He spoke offering her drink back. It was eerie how silent things had become after the insanity of the battle that had just wrapped up.

Lu took her pouch back shaking her wet hand dry as Caw finished his drink. “I am Lushak.” The bird pecked at her hand causing her to look at him. “And this is caw.” She said petting the bird who seemed satisfied with being included in the introduction. She looked over the battlefield once more, over the miling forms of strangers and allies alike. “Your people come from very far, and yet they all look similar to the free races I’ve met, accept for that tall horned orc among you.”

"You mean Grif? He's not an orc, he's a Qunari. Though I can see that mistake." Azoca chuckled with a smile. He smiled down at Caw as the two interacted. They seemed rather content with each other. Shaking his head, Azoca looked back into the field of bodies. He let a small shudder pass through him before returning towards the conversation with Lushak.

"Strange to say, I'm glad I tried to attack you. I don't think too many of my people would have been as .. bluntly kind as you were? If that is even a thing. They are all seasoned vets with battles and wars under their belts. I wasn't expecting all of this right off the bat." Azoca spoke with some ease, looking down at the dirt. Giving a shaky sigh he pushed himself upright, using his staff more than he would have appreciated.

"As for everyone looking the same? Maybe our people have a common heritage? It might be fun to learn if we get more free time." Azoca responded with a bit of energy before moving closer to her. He held out a hand, offering some help up in manners.

“Qunari.” The half orc murmured mulling it over before looking back to Azoca as he spoke further. She shrugged. “I am not as volatile as my kin,Your reaction is normal towards my kind.” she said watching him get up. “To be fair, we weren't expecting a raid either, but we were lucky that you came when you did.”

She looked up at the young human as he offered her his hand. She hesitated a moment before she took it, scooping up Caw as she stood.”Perhaps.” she said.

Giving a smile, Azoca helped lift Lu onto her feet, having to step back some while helping her up. He was glad to have met her, yet knew that they needed to keep things moving. He wanted to know her more and they would have more time later, but he could already hear Revion coming for him, and the luxury of rest be replaced by work.

"It was a joy meeting you, but seems like the world is calling again. I promise we'll talk again." Azoca bowed to the woman before finally heading over to start on gathering the items needed for their travels.

Lu watched the young man move off. Looking down to her hand for a moment in thought. “It was nice to meet you too.” she said after a moment. She was not sure how well he could hold onto that promise of talking again later, as likely she’s skulk off back near her people's camp. If jocko let her. Thinking about her options she wondered if she really would return or why should she?

She gently pet caw. “Perhaps.” She mulled quietly out loud. “We should continue our search for Jocko.” She said finely glancing down at the bird who blinked back at her before she started picking her way once more around the fort.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Eli spat out the blood from the corner of her mouth, stopping her chase of the Orcs and watching the last of the flee into the woods. Joined by a couple of the Endorian elves, she watched the enemy flee although an unfortunate dodge from a thick, crude arrow caused her to collide with a branch, leaving the red on her skin. Now, breathing hard, she wondered if she should have just allowed her allies to handle the chase - these were not the Darkspawn after all.

“You alright?” Eglerion approached her almost soundlessly. “You did well for your first match with the Orcs.”

“Och, the Marauder Tribes are wee babbies compared tae tha other Tribes.” A harsh female accent was heard from slightly further down the wooded path. Damina then emerged covered in blood, her axe resting on her broad shoulder. “But aye, ye didnae die sae ‘hat’s a plus.”

“Please, I will teach you all about real war,” Eli replied good kindheartedly, nodding to the elf beside her and turning to the women. “How many tribes are there?”

Damina chuckled pulling out a rag to wipe her axe blade off, leaving the blood on her face and body though. “Aboot, nine, but Ah dare say we jus’ killed tha ninth tribe sae...eight naow.” She says simply slinging her axe over her shoulder before picking up a wine skin dropped by a fleeing Orc and taking a pull from it.

“How do you know it is not blood?” Eli raised an eyebrow making Eglerion beside her choke on laughter and turn away his grinning face so that the women wouldn’t see.

Damina swished it around in her mouth contemplating the taste before swallowing it. “Orc blood doesnae taste sae sweet.” She looked at the Elf and lopped the wine skin at him. “Ye keep yer laughter tae yerself Master Elf! Yu lot didnae even come outta yer trees tae fight! At least the Elves thee wee lassie brought fought like real warriors. Where did ye find’em?” She asked Eli directly.

“Around Ferelden, I guess,” Eli shrugged, shooting Eglerion an amused look. The elf waved his hands, walking around the dead orcs with his comrades to look at the bodies, seeing if there was anything.

Damina quirked her eyebrow. “F...erel...den? What the fuck kinda name is that? Sounds Elfish.” She said walking past Eli kicking over some dead Orcs looting them like the Elves were.

“No better than Endor,” Eli watched them before sighing and sheathing her blades. Leaving the elves and the brisk woman to their ordeal, she made her way back to where she left the Wardens, thinking about what she had seen. Ferelden had no real equivalent for what these people called orcs - how does one describe something evil that wasn’t a Blight?

Zadkiel had visited his fellow warriors and as he had hoped no one had died and their injuries were minimal. Mostly Mages who over extended their powers. Some of the Dwarves and Dalish had been helping unload the ships and Zad nicked a small bottle of wine from atop a crate sitting back down on the rock he had sat on before drinking it slowly. He hadn’t seen Eli yet...he hoped she was ok.

Walking back to camp, Eli looked around absently, her eyes glazing over the mass of warriors busy with one thing or another. Dwarfs seemed to pass in every direction, scurrying to get something done. In the distance, she could see the Qunari’s tall frame standing with some of the other humans, laughing as he munched on something or other, the group absently throwing Barq his red ball that he happily caught in the waves of the ocean. Smiling, she started towards the shadows of the ruins, guessing that was where she would find her lover.

The Constable had kicked his legs out enjoying the warm evening breeze as it rolled off the sea. Well no matter what hell they find here at least it’s warmer than back home. Turning his head as he heard heavy boots coming his way he smiled catching sight of his woman. “Hey there Eli, figured you’d find me eventually.” He scooted over on the rock so she could join him.

“I got carried away by the hunt,” she grinned, sitting beside him and stretching out her legs, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Her eyes gazed over the early evening landscape, intrigued how the land echoed home and was, at the same time, extremely foreign. “Something told me you would be away from the troops.”

Smiling more he wrapped his arm around her lower back pulling her closer before handing her the bottle of wine. “Well even Champions need a breather from cheating death. Grif, Arawn, Revion, and Thelhen know their men better than me so I needn’t hover anywhere.” He kissed her head fondly. “I hope all that blood isn’t yours.” He chuckled, wiping some off his mouth.

“Mmmm, I still am not convinced that these people here don’t drink orc blood. Perhaps it makes them Warden like against these tribes of monsters?” Eli pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off her lips and the dried up trail of blood, making a face at the spots on the white material before taking a sip of the beverage.

Laughing lightly Zadkiel nicked her handkerchief away to wipe his mouth off a little then began wiping the blood off her hair and parts of her armor. “Sounds like a story behind that one. One of the local drinking Orc blood now?”

“She denied it,” Eli rolled her eyes good naturally. “Although, I don’t think I would have the stomach to drink anyone’s blood again.”

Zad nodded slowly, finishing wiping her shoulders off. “Agreed, once was enough for me.” He tossed the ruined little cloth aside and helped himself to some more wine being sure to keep Eli close. “Quite a collection of characters so far. A Dwarf who thinks Arawn talks funny, a whole race of god-like Elves, and a warrior princess who doesn’t want to be here.” Taking another swig he sighed feeling the breeze again.

“You seemed to have a better overview of who is present,” the woman grinned, playfully pulling the flask from the man’s fingers. “All I get are Elves and simple men with an accent thicker than Orlais.”

Zadkiel laughed. “By the Maker I can barely understand those fops on a good day. Hope this simple man is at least amusing to listen to. The Dwarves here seem about the same as ours though.”


That evening in Rivendell


The time passed quickly and as Zadkiel had instructed the entire group was marching through the gates of Rivendell, even with most of the Elves gone it held an ethereal aura about it. Like the mystic beings still graced it’s silver hallowed halls. The small army moved in silence, Dalish in sheer awe some of them rewriting the history of their people as they walked. The Dwarves, even as grim faced as they were looked on with wide eyes and gently murmured words. Before this, Orzamar was the most beautiful city most of them had seen.

Even the humans looked amazed. Though exhaustion from the fight wore heavily on everyone so their wonder would have to wait until morning. There were plenty of rooms for the picking, and their gracious Elvin hosts had promised a fine meal to be served a few hours before midnight.

Until then though the warriors would be free to settle in and finish unwinding from the battle.

[P.K.]

While normally never one to shy away from a scrap the surprise Marauder tribe attack made the stout Halfing Jocko Took wishing he had foisted this escort mission off on someone else.

In the four since the Wrong appeared he had never been in such a one-sided fight. Six of them and some crumbling stone walls against a whole Tribe of angry Orcs. But just as Jocko was about to jump on his own sword a miracle arrived in the form of "Grey Wardens, Dalish Elves, and the Legion of the Dead" fantastical names for three fantastical groups.

Jocko happily dropped his weapons and slumped against the stone wall to watch these new arrivals mow down the Orcs like a tidal wave to a sand castle. Their magic is what astonished the warrior the most, since the beginning of time only the five great wizards have been so skilled in magic and most of them were dead or gone away with the Elves. But Jocko saw a young man no older than twenty-three out there slinging fireballs around like Gandalf the White. Had the Elves found Gods in their travels and convinced them to help?

Jocko had no idea, but he planned to ask one of them about as soon as he could. But right now he needed a drink, and he'd likely have to do it quick because it looks like the man in red armor and his cohorts were planning to move the whole group somewhere soon. He thought he heard the name Rivendell get tossed around a few times. That'd be good...Elves have some fine wine.

The time came and everyone packed up and began moving out. Jocko managed to catch Horsey before anyone could swipe him, he looked around for his friend Lu, but couldn't find her in the sea of faces and shiny metal things so he kept to the back in hopes she would find him herself.

Lu's search for Jocko ended only after the group started moving out. She watched from a sheltered place, gently petting Caw's beak to keep him quiet as she searched the moving bodies for her companion. Finely she spotted him with their mount keeping to the back. Doubtless he'd been looking for her as well so she wasted little time in picking her way carefully out of her hiding place and over to her friend who lingered near the back of the marching party.

"Jocko." She hissed as to not startle him to badly as she came closer and looked him over for any visible signs of injury. "I'm glad to see you are not badly hurt." She said finely. She fell into pace with him and Horsey, not seeming to mind walking, they would not be traveling fast with such a larger group after all. "I suppose this is what you free races call getting lucky?" She asked peering at the Halfling.

Despite her best tries Jocko did jump up a little as his Orcess friend approached. Looking down he gave her a broad smile offering her his hand. "Och worry not my fine Orcy lass! Ole Jocko tain't one to die! Come on, I can't stand the idea of making you walk when Horsey is big enough for us both! And ay this was very lucky for us."

"We won't be traveling very fast I imagine." She said eyeing his hand for a moment in thought. Horsey has indeed done well for the both of them she still preferred her feet on the ground. But after a moment she figured her Halfling friend would simply insist so took his extended hand and hefted herself up into the back of the steed. "Well, they have almost everything, except Halflings. I haven't been able to spot any at least." Weather that was a joke or not was hard to tell as Lu gazed out out the small army that had arrived to their aid. She couldn't help but wounder if they were truly able to help them, even if they did have experience with these Wrong. "Do you really think they will be able to help us fight back these creatures?"

Jocko chuckled looking out across the army. "Naw, we Haflings only come from one place!" He clicked his tongue lightly and moved Horsey a little off to the side of the marching group so no one would get stepped on. "And I sincerely hope so, though we don't have much choice. They're here and they handled the Marauder Tribe quite explosively." He laughed lightly imagining the fireballs and other spells they were throwing out. "I will admit though, I did not expect magic. I've only ever heard of it myself."

"Indeed, the magic was quite surprising, I to have only heard vague stories about it till today. Its truly terrifying its no wounder the Orcs didn't much like the wizards when they were around. It will be a boon for sure against the wrong." she agreed quietly once again surveying the fighting force they were returning with.

In Rivendell

The Orc looked over the old Elven city with awe. She'd been rather reluctant to enter through the gates with everyone else, feeling less then welcome in a city, though old and somewhat worn, still held a vast beauty that she had yet to see anywhere else in her short lived travels. She stood aloof, having dismounted from Horsey at some as they picked their way through the precious paths that lead here, and now held Caw to her as she studied the city quietly. Taking in all the details of the worn stone and carvings. The beauty outside hinted heavily at the beauty inside and strangely she really wanted to go inside but felt even more out of place then usual.

Jocko was far some as quiet as his Orc companion in his awe at the splendor of Rivendell. "By the Shire! Do all Elven cities look like this? I need to get out more if they do!" He dropped from Horsey's back and let one of the Elves take the horses to be tended to. Moving to Lu's side he gripped her free hand happily leading her into the city proper. "Hmm come Lu-Lu, I smell food and fine wine, it's been absolute ages since I had second lunch!"

Lu made an uncomfortable grumble but followed the Halfling as he pulled her along. "It is very... beautiful." She agreed. She'd spotted the humans architecture and while it was very fine on its own it was clearly out shown by even these worn ruins. Lu's eyes traveled over the arches, and carved stone warn smooth with time from the elements but even still with the few elves that remained a mystical charm still clung to this place. "How do you put it... it is breath taking." she said finely.

As she followed the Halfling through the city, moving past clusters of men and women, wizards and warrior she couldn't help but notice some of the searching looks. sure their allies knew of her now but that didn't mean they trusted her. not that she minded so she ignored it. So long as no one attempted to attack her she didn't care.

The sound of flowing water was quite pleasant to her ears, even the roar of distant waterfalls was quite calming in the cool of the evening. "The air here is different to." She murmured. Caw let out a small relaxed caw as it to agree as he ruffled his feathers. "I wounder if they would care if we ventured into the abandoned buildings." She murmured eyeing some of the elves cautiously. The elves that arrived from the show didn't seem to carry quite the same calm and majesty as the elves of these lands. It was strange.

Jocko breathed deep as they stopped by one of the tables that looked to be holding finger foods of some kind. The Elves of Endor weren't big on meat, but Jocko still saw plenty of edibles he could gorge himself. "Hmm everything here oozes magic, you know my cousin came here during the War of the Rings, before he left with Frodo and them. He said this place is like no other on Endor, said it was even better than the Shire. I never believed him, but damned if he wasn't right." Once his plate was satisfactorily high he carried it to an empty table giving a huge smile. "And I'm sure as long as we don't break anything they'll be fine with us exploring a bit."

Lu looked over the table of edibles but she wasn't really familiar with anything that was on the table, it all looked very strange to her. She watched Jocko pile his plate full for a moment before glancing at others doing the same thing. Hesitating a moment longer before she took one herself and carefully looked it over. It felt fragile in her hands and light, Orcs didn't use such things while eating and neither did she.

The Half-Orc took a deep breath before she picked out a few things for herself and Caw before following Jocko to the table. Awkwardly holding the plate in front of her till she sat down. Caw hopped onto the table and immediately grabbed something off the plate. She didn't chide the bird, after all she wasn't one for manners either as she picked at the food after sitting down. "I don't intend to break anything." She said cautiously taking a bite of some of the strange food. It was... different but it wasn't bad, and she'd eaten some bad things.

Jocko laughed clapping his large Orc friend on the shoulder. "Don't be afraid my fine Orcy lass, I'm sure the Elves make their plates good and firm! Just like the rest of this place." He tossed some seeds from an apple to the bird and laughed some more watching the bird gimp around grabbing up each and every seed. "So this is what it's like having a pet."

Lu took another bite of food as Jocko clapped her on the shoulder, she was barely moved by the force. She'd observed men doing the same thing in greeting, or other forms. Still she didn't seem to mind as she watched Caw pick up the discarded seeds with gusto,but he couldn't be famished, she'd been feeding him well. As the seeds vanished she offered him another bit her of her own food watching him gobble it up. "A pet?" she asked cocking her head in Jocko's direction curiously.

In the middle of biting into a peppermint tart Jocko quirked his head at the woman's question. Did Orcs not have pets? What did they consider the Wargs or the Goblins? Placing his tart down he wiped his mouth and took a sip of the wine the sweetness filling his face with smiles. "Ay a pet, that's what you call animals you don't eat, ride, or use for work. Companions and in the case of our one-eyed Dwarf and his raven, partners. Have ya never had a pet 'afore Lu-Lu?"

Lu didn't need to think very hard to answer that. "No." She said. "Beasts in Mordor are..." She mulled over the right word for a moment. "...More savage then the beasts in these lands." She said. "They are harder to tame, it has been done by a few, but even then they can still turn and devour their masters." She looked to her plate as she enjoyed the taste of something sweetly unfamiliar. Elves had interesting tastes, but she liked it. "I couldn't catch any such beasts on my own, I spent most of my time staying well out of reach of my Kin."

Jocko frowned, the expression very strange to him. He'd heard stories of how things in Mordor were before the War of the Ring, and even more stories after the Orcs that weren't wiped out clanned up. Outsiders were always quickly dispatched, but he'd never thought of how things were for the Orcs themselves.

Reaching out he gripped her hand fondly and turned his smile back on. "Well worry not Lu-Lu...ole Jocko, Horsey, and Caw will make sure ya never have to hide again."

Lushak glanced down at Jocko's hand. She hadn't thought to much of her past experiences as being abnormal until observing the free races more, and it made her dislike her kin more then she'd had grown to before, but with it her understanding of why the free races hated them so. Jocko had shaken up a lot of old and new thoughts since he'd tumbled into her that night. She slowly placed her other hand over his offering the faintest smile, as unsure as it seemed it was genuine. "That... sounds nice." She admitted quietly.

Jocko smiled big and brought his hand atop her's patting her again. "Only the best for my Orcy friend!" Freeing their hands he went back to his food tossing Caw a few more morsels chuckling like a young boy at the bird's happy little dances to get more food. "I've heard seeing a crow dance is a sign of good luck. Hopefully that's true for us."

"I'm sure Caw is very good luck." Lu agreed gently running one finger across his head before she finished the remnants of her plate. "Soon he should be able to fly again." She murmured pushing her mostly empty plate away and watching the bird peck at what crumbs that were left as she laid her head on her arms as her eyes moved to the abandoned buildings scattered across the eating area's edge. Feeling her curiosity grow, but unwilling to go alone as she might have once. "Why would the Elves leave so much behind?" She wondered out loud.

The jolly Hobbit finished his food and wiped his mouth of crumbs following his friend's eyes at the more derelict building feeling a strange sadness overcome him as he saw how much they've deteriorated in two-hundred years. "I'd wager, because you can't carry whole buildings on a ship with you. But come Lu-Lu let's see what exactly got left behind." Half-climbing half falling from the high bench he brushed his front off freeing a few more crumbs before he walked behind the She-Orc to the edge of the pavilion to see how they could reach some of these buildings.

Lu watched the halfling walk to the edge of the Pavilion before pushing herself up from the table and following after him to look over the gap. "There." She said after a moment of quite, spying an old vine cored bridge in the growing gloom. It looked old and unused, but sturdy enough to cross to the other side.

[Dnafein]

The Qunari loaded a platter with a little bit of everything the elves set out to greet the travellers, taking it to a table that gave him an unobstructed view of the gathering. Grif pulled his journal out as he ate. He made notes about the food, and added sketches of the view in margins. The Tal Vasoth added embellishments to the edges of the sketches.

Griffin’s pointed ears picked up conversations, and his eyes scanned more than just the buildings. This trip had the oxman slipping into hats he thought left behind. During the voyage Grif returned to his roots as a sailor. Now he found himself slipping into far more dangerous shoes. His Ben-Hassrath training had made a resurgence.

Grif found himself slipping back into suspicion. Watching body language for tell tale signs of deception, even while picking out all the signs of war fed anxiety. The Qunari began looking at ways to take advantage of the situation, and then he took a deep breath.

That wasn’t who he was anymore. Now he was a Grey Warden; And his mission has changed. Although there were advantages to the paranoia inherent to being Ben-Hassrath. The Qunari simply had to figure out the best way to do so. Of course he had some questions he needed answers to, like what the hell is Balrog?

[Koti~]

Da'lenFen
Fen hated the calm after battle, even more the stillness from so many dead. After his shifting spell had ended, he had lost sight of his battle companion, a brash woman that he had honestly enjoyed fighting alongside. He couldn’t help but admit he was pleasantly surprised to find a human that wasn’t warden fighting like a tornado covered in thorns. Even one that had kept a count of fights between the two of them. Though, being called both a pup and a Warq had him questioning just what kind of land this place really was. He had not gotten a chance to take down the King, having to allow Grif to take the kill of the king and letting Barq fight the ugly mount. Once they had a better moment, he would for sure ask what the hell kind of beast was a Warq, even though he had a good idea. Leaving it for the moment though, he joined in hunting through the corpses, taking it slow to allow his stamina to recover mostly. The fight had been as brutal as it had been quick, so he was glad it was over.

For now, he would keep to himself and just help with the move out.

Azoca

Azoca found himself sitting out most of the clean up from the bodies, relegated to helping finish the unload and prepping for movement. The talk he had with Lu had helped address some of the fears that had started to grow during the fight. He felt much calmer than when it all started, but the visage of battle was still painted in his mind. Just having the tasks of loading and moving the gear was not enough to distract him from the war in his mind. It didn’t take long, but he truly couldn’t help but marvel at how so many people were just so .. matter of fact about it all. So many questions bounced around his skull that he wanted to ask, but it didn’t seem the right time just yet, and before he could even get a chance to ask, already they were on the move to their next destination, a place called Rivendell.


Rivendell
Azoca felt completely lost in the Elven city, his eyes spastic as they danced around the place. He had seen beautiful towns and design, but this place had sucked his breath away. Everything looked as though made by magic, with beautiful arches and intricate patterns that seemed too delicate to have been made by mortal hands. Having listened to the few stories of people talk in awed voices about their magic, he had no doubts that this land held some sort of magic. He stood in the entryway, the battle and war momentarily forgotten as he just allowed himself to soak in the beauty of this place.

So lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the man moving beside him, startled how such a man could manage to move so quietly.


“Quite a place, huh.” Da’lenfen spoke up, looking over the place with such a strange look upon his face. Azoca looked to the man, surprised again that the man would choose to talk to him so readily. Clearing his throat, he could only manage a grunt of acknowledgement while looking to the city.

“Such extravagance abound here, and yet… it feels like this place has always been here.” Da’lenfen looked over the city, feeling a bit off about the entire place. Everything about the decadence made him upset, knowing that this was what his people could have, no, should have been living. And yet, he could helped feeling amazed at this city. Rivendell was the most beautiful place he had seen, standing out in its splendor, and yet appearing as though it was made from the world itself. The forest seemed to encase and live with the town, allowing it to feel as though it was just a part of the world to him.

“Ye...yeah, they really seem to know what they were doing when they made it.” Azoca responded in kind, allowing himself to relax some while talking to the man. He didn’t know where to go with the conversation, not knowing what to say to one of the wardens, even more the warden of the woods. It had been a surprise to hear that he had joined in this mission, but seeing him here in the flesh.

It was a bit surreal. Azoca had read the stories behind some of the Wardens, and so far most of them had been rather close, yet this one… From what he had learned, Da’lenfen was a warden who’se sole goal was defending the woods against all humans, more beast than dalish, not wanting to help a single human being ever.

Yet, here he was, talking like a normal person, having a normal conversation.

“So… why come talk to me?” Azoca blurted out before he could think of anything else to say. Fen turned to the boy, looking him up and down a few seconds, an unreadable expression on his face. Giving a sigh, he pushed himself from the ledge and stretched his body.

“This seemed the most quiet, and even the most aggressive animals feel the need to meet with others. Besides, I was just passing through. Get yourself some food and enjoy the peaceful moments while you can over here.” Da’lenfen spoke before heading off further into the city, planning to find a place to rest on his own.

[Breggo13]

Nienor sighed, looking out into the wilderness that opened up from the building’s veranda. The old open hall which had once hosted the meeting of Elrond was wearing out ever so slightly at the edges but that didn’t make it appear any less enchanting. The calls of history - the past of her people and all of Middle Earth - seemed to permanently float around in the air, filling it with determination and purpose.Leaning against one of the white stone pillars, the young woman rested her cheek on the cool stone, she watched the light fade, the sky covered in shades of orange, pink and red. In the darkness of the indigo night that was just starting to appear in the east, a few loans stars started to appear.

Sighing, the young warrior thought back to what Elladan had told her as he walked with her among the old Elven halls, leaving his brother to entertain the guests. She had dreamed of making it to Imladris since her youth, knowing that was a key place for her ancestors, but to be here and stand in the same place as the legendary heroes of Gondor - it frightened her. She was sure the Elf could sense her emotions but he didn’t say anything, instead leading her to the frescoes of the Ages past, letting her soak in everything. As they passed the old shrine or Narsil, Elladan sighed sadly and turned away. Rivendell is not a fortress, only a place of learning and knowledge. It will be a shame if it falls.

If. Nienor gritted her teeth. Another place that needed protection, another gem of this world and a whole lot of lives that will be sacrificed if Gondor falls. Or has fallen. Looking out, the wilderness seemed oblivious to the blood being soaked up in the Lands of Stone. Everything was blooming, fragrant, pure. Birds sang and bees flew by. Nothing echoed what she had seen in the past few years - no screams of the dying, no bodies of the dead, no continuous smell of fear, helplessness and hopelessness. Her people were always the first to fall and the first to die - some days she wondered if they all were born with a disregard for death.

The soft clank of mailed boots were heard down the corridor heading for Nieonor’s position. A low whistle followed and soon Zadkiel appeared atop a small flight of stairs. While he still wore his plate boots the rest of his armor was back with his gear and he only carried a single sword at his waist a gray warden jerkin wrapped around his torso and form fitting pants being the rest of his ensemble. “You know how many Elves back home would start wars over living somewhere like this?” He chuckled slowly approaching the warrior princess placing a goblet of Ferelden whisky on a dusty table near her before taking up a spot on the rail watching the moon and clouds overhead.

“Your Elves are...strange,” Nienor responded softly, not bothering to look at the newcomer. During their journey to Rivendell, Nienor was able to observe how the few Elves from afar acted - there was no ancient power surrounding them, only some sort of submission to their circumstance even when they pushed back. The contrast against Endorians was that much more stark when they walked side by side with those beings the young woman associated with the word. “This is one of the eldest Elven cities. My ancestors grew up here - it’s strange to think that this place has not changed for centuries.”

Zadkiel chuckled, shrugging as he sipped his drink. “And my Elves think your Elves are their long lost ancestors. I’ve heard the Dalish call this place Elvhenan when they think no one is looking. It means “Place of our People” in their language. Wouldn’t be surprised if you get some new residents once this Blight is done.” Turning around, he leaned his back against the railing looking around. This place was as desolate as it was beautiful. “Heh looks like it could use some new blood to be honest. So if your ancestors grew up here does that make you...part Elf?” He asked, swirling the whisky about his cup.

“Dalish?” Nienor raised an eyebrow, a shadow of a smile on her lips. “What a strange name for them. Dale used to be a city in the North but it was destroyed by one of the great lizards Smaug when he took over Erebor, sending the Dwarves and people to seek new places to live. Only Mirkwood is close enough to have known Dale in it’s former beauty...although that memory is fading slowly.”

Hearing his question, she bit her lip, thinking. It was strange to discuss the Elessar bloodlines and dig deep into them - especially since with enough iterations, it was rather odd pairings of two lines merging once again. “I have some of the old blood in me but I am not half-elven like our hosts. I am of the race of Men. Is it not the same where you come from? Ferenen? Ferwalden?”

Zadkiel shrugged and sipped his drink again. “Well in Ferelden all Elves have what you might call “the old blood” as in they have ties back to ancient Elves that once ruled Thedas, what we call our world. But nowadays having Elf blood in you makes you little better than unwanted refuse. Many Wardens I’ve recruited were Half Bloods...and becoming...like me.” He said waving his hand over himself slowly. “Is the only way they can avoid being killed by Men and sometimes by the more...radical Dalish Clans that roam about. Hell being Elf-blooded is almost as bad as being born with magic in some parts of the free world.” It was said very casually, but the tone under his words hinted at it being deeper than that.

“Magic?” Nienor frowned, turning away from the deepening sunset to look at the man with curiosity. “There are few in Endor who wield it and most that could, departed from Grey Haven at the beginning of the Fourth Age. They were respected and were friends of all people - at least listened to. Why do your people treat Elves like that? Do they not unite against great threats as equals?”

Zadkiel let out a low sardonic chuckle. It was the chuckle of a man who had asked himself that same question too many times to count. “That’s the million oren question isn’t it? You see Princess, Ferelden and honestly Thedas in general is a land of near constant warfare. If it’s not the Orlisians trying to take over Ferelden iit’s the Tevinter Imperium trying to take over Orlias and Ferelden. And if it’s not the Imperium threatening to bury the world in blood magic and demons, it’s the Qunari trying to conquer everything and spread their religion, the Qun to all corners of the globe. As for why Elves get treated so badly? It’s the same reason those with magic in their blood get treated so bad. Because history is a constant game of Eye for an Eye and a Tooth for a Tooth, way back when the Elves were ruthless conquerors. Immortals that didn’t like scrawny humans wanting their own slot of land, humans united and wiped them pretty much off the map. But then the Mage ruled Tevinter Imperium and their Dragon gods took over and became the ravenous conquerors. If you believe the teaching of our Chantry they’re the ones responsible for the Darkspawn and Blights. The memories of the oppressed are very long so the cycle just continues. And ironically it’s only crap like this.” He motioned all around him and the dried Darkspawn blood on his boots for emphasis. “That can even hope to bring all the angry children together as equals. And Wardens like myself are usually the only ones that do the leg work for peace.”

“Wardens? I still don’t understand,” Nienor sighed. “Is it a Fellowship? A...what did you call it….a religion? Your world is so strange and different from ours. We fight evil too - our ancestors did - but if there was disdain, it was race against race, hating them for their faults. The Elves were too reserved and wanted peace, the Dwarves were after the gold and treasures,” she paused, her face darkening, “the Men were after power.”

The Champion chuckled, winking at the woman the drink coloring his cheeks a little. “All the above, more or less, but it sounds like your world isn’t all that different from mine Princess. My people fight over faults and differences all the same. We just have Dragons, Golems, and Darkspawn thrown into the mix. As for the Wardens...well, I’ll tell you the way it was pitched to me by my father.” He cleared his throat standing up tall. “The Grey Wardens are an ancient and honorable order of elite warrior-monks. Gifted with extraordinary powers and trained at the highest levels of combat and tactics. Blessed with being the only ones able to end a Blight, but cursed with a short violent life that only ends in death either from madness or endless combat.” He clicked his tongue lightly draining his goblet, his eyes hardening a little as he shook his head.

“Will the cure be more dangerous than the disease?” Nienor’s own eyes hardened, meeting Zadkiel’s. It was one that always bothered her deep down - bringing in people not of this world with no attachment to it and no precedence. Never in history were there mentions of Thedas or any other land but here she was, living in a time that would make history. The end of the Fourth Age, most likely. How the Fifth Age was to begin and be would depend on how much she could trust these people. “I will not hesitate to kill every single one of you if you betray us - this land doesn’t need another evil like Morgoth and his successors.” She casually placed her hand upon the hilt of her sword for some emphasis.

Despite his gentleman upbringing, Zadkiel Cousland found himself chuckling smugly at the woman who might’ve been close in height to him, but a much slimmer build. Eli was bigger than her for the Maker’s sake. “The only cure for a Warden is death princess, and unless you have Gods stronger than the Darkspawn and their Archdemon, killing us will only seal your own death warrant if you can even manage that mind you.” He shook his head and smirked at her. “You lot were being beaten by your own home grown Orcs when we arrived. There is no way you could stand up to a full Darkspawn charge without us.” He chuckled once more and crossed his arms moving back to the rail he was leaning against before.

“Orcs kill in hoards, Master Warden, and they aren’t as witless as the Wrong. You think I won’t be able to kill you or stand up to the monster flying over Ephel Duath? I do not need you nor your kind,” the young woman crossed her own arms, her face becoming void of clear emotions. “We have defeated Evils before and we will do so again. For whatever reason, you think you have the answer to our problems. I think your help is too exaggerated or the price is too steep. Regardless of your order, you are a man with weaknesses like the rest. If those come into play, the price is not your order or your land - it is mine, the East and West alike. And I will not let anyone destroy it even if it costs me my last breath.” She gave a slight growl and pulled her blade free holding it at the low ready as if expecting a fight.

Zadkiel chuckled lightly picking up the forgotten goblet and pushed it into the young woman’s hand. “Ah the fires of youth and patriotism, I’ve seen so many recruits with that same fire come through the Wardens. But relax warrior princess, I’m not about to duel one of my allies in a strange land.” Turning his back on her he moved to a pillar and leaned against it studying her up and down. “But that fire won’t win you the day girl, you can kill all the Wrong you wish, but unless you kill the Archdemon, that giant dragon looking monstrosity that’s no doubt roasted scores of your allies? Unless you kill that thing the Wrong will never leave your lands and the only way to kill the Archdemon is with a Grey Warden. So kill all of us? What do you think will happen?” He smirked again, this time quaking his eyebrow like a tutor waiting for a slow pupil to answer a simple question.

“For an ignorant guest in these lands, you are all too smug,” Nienor reigned in her fire, thankful for the years of practice. “The Wrong - or the Darkspawn - may scare you, but you do not know the horrors of Sauron and Melkor. You came to help so help. Teach me how to kill the beast. Or whoever you seem worthy.” Looking down at the drink in her hand, she swirled it around in thought. “In cín honestui im estel,” Nienor raised the glass before taking a sip, letting the whisky burn down her throat.

Zadkiel shook his head slowly, smirking still. “If you knew the full horrors of the Darkspawn you would be scared of them as well Princess. And if by “killing the beast” you mean the Archdemon? That cannot be taught, you and anyone who wants to try will need to be turned into Grey Wardens first. ‘Tis the only way, you can send your own King and any Immortal Elf Lords you have left at it and they will all be killed before they could even get within striking distance. And it’s only through striking with a sword or axe wielded by a Warden that the Archdemon can be killed, not even a Warden with a bow and all the arrows in creation can get the job done. The head must be cleaved from it’s neck in other words. One of Fate’s strange little rules that one.”

“If you are so intent on calling me by my rank, Warden, you should follow it with your actions too. Where I come from, a princess’ will is always done. I assume it is the same in your lands,” pushing the cup back into Zadkiel’s hand, Nienor pushed past, leaving the veranda and heading towards the quarters that have been given to the group for their short stay.

Zadkiel chuckled lightly picking up both goblets. “I’ve yet to meet a Princess that had authority over Fate girly.” He said it quietly enough so the fiery young woman wouldn’t be able to hear him. He was sure the conversation would come up again so he let it lie and went off to see what trouble the rest of his band was getting up to.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Eli tried to finish the mead as fast as she could, gulping the drink until she felt herself choking on it but she couldn’t get to the bottom. Slamming the almost complete pint onto the table, she gasped for air, her cheeks flushed to the cheering and chuckling of the people around her. Although Rivendell was identified as the house of Elves, there were Dwarves and Men as well. The Elf in front of her finished her cup and placed it with more reserve, crossing her hands and grinning with amusement.

“How...do you….do that?” Eli grinned back, trying to regain her breathing.

“It’s an old drinking game that somehow got passed along,” the blonde shot Tinnu a bemused grin but the Mirkwoodian (at least that was what Eli thought she was) shrugged completely unaffected. “You drink until the last one is standing.”

“I can’t stand,” Eli chuckled, the drinks slowly starting to affect her. “Sitting is very good. And so is this wine - what is it again?”

“Thilivern,” Seleria replied as she picked up the jug. “Do you keep playing? Or are you done?”

“Another round,” Eli grinned. The group cheered as Seleria filled both cups before raising hers. Nodding to the Ferelden, the Elf brought her cup to her lips. Following the motion, Eli’s hazel eyes focused on Tinnu’s raised hand, tipping the tankard up the second the Elf gave her signal. This time, she tried to pace herself to finish the drink and while she was slower than her opponent, most of the mead ended up in her stomach in a continuous stream. Breathing in satisfaction, she giggled, raising her hand to observe it. “I think I feel something...tingly. Is that normal?”

“Aye,” Seleria responded after a few minutes when all the nearby elves broke out into a laugh. “I am impressed - most daughters of Men do not last as long as you.”

“It’s a professional courtesy,” Eli smiled, thinking back to the amount of parties and celebrations she had to attend as the Darkspawn disappeared. Her father’s wedding alone was an ordeal - thankfully she had Zad there with her. Now that he crossed her slightly swimming mind, she did wonder where the man had gotten to.

“Eli,” Seleria moved closer as the rest of the Elves and viewers dispersed. “Do the Elves at home look at you this way?”

“Professional courtesy but not really,” Eli mumbled to herself, trying to focus on her companion and get her eyes to focus on something stationary. “What, hic, do you mean - this way?”

“Like I have a second head,” Seleria’s eyes widened slightly to emphasise her point. “Mind you, a very pretty second head.”

“Elves at home don’t look at me if they can avoid it,” Eli shook her head, trying to concentrate a bit. The sweet, fresh mead with its slightly buttery tones had seemed to light and harmless a little while back. She couldn’t remember how she was roped into a round of the infamous drinking game but now the wine was making her content, relaxed and rather sleepy. Problem was, there was no way she was making it to bed on her own as the world was softly spinning. “To them, you are like...um, well like….What did you say was the name of the king in the what was it age that killed a whomever it was?”

“Gil-Galad?” Seleria chuckled. Eli huffed in affirmation.

Before Eli could respond a pair of strong familiar hands gripped the top of the woman’s chair and Zadkiel;s smiling face appeared in the dim candlelight. “Our Elves don’t look at you because they’re afraid you’ll try to conscript them or throw a Flask of Fire at them.” He picked up Elissa’s half empty cup and took a long sip of it coughing lightly. “O-ho-ho they gave you the strong stuff love.”

“Mmmm, it was fine a few cups in…” Seleria snorted, trying to cover her laughter. “I don’t try to conscript every Elf I see.”

“What are Flasks of Fire?” the blonde raised curious eyes to the man.

He chuckled, finishing Eli’s drink for her. “It’s an elixir of sorts that Tempests like Elissa here can use to give them a little extra edge in battle. It heats up the body and gives you a type of battle fury that lets you attack harder and quicker. But it only lasts for a short time then you’re pretty burnt out.”

“Tempests like me also like to be carried to bed without being dropped because the carrier is too drunk,” Eli watched Zad finish her drink but she doubted she would have gotten through it herself. “I’ll leave you a sample before we leave tomorrow.”

“Really?” the young Elf’s eyes lit up. Earlier in the night, Eli noticed Selenia’s interest in alchemy, examining any vial from the newcomers with care and curiosity, giving it sadly back to the owner.

“A Warden’s promise,” the red-head grinned, before looking back up at Zad. “I am beat.”

With a roll of his eyes and a fond smile the stout warrior pulled her chair out and picked her up in his arms like a bride nodding down at Selenia and the other Elves still gathered around before making the woman comfortable in his arms. “You plan to teach her the specialization in its fullest as well my love? Complete with the Demon Essence and the book needed?” With another smile and a nod he bid the party good night. “Thank you all for showing Eli a good time tonight, with any luck she’ll be happy to do it again the next time we stop.” Turning he began carrying the woman to their shared little camp area.

“She’s interested in alchemanine,” Eli giggled, trying to say the right word a few times before giving up and nuzzling her nose against Zad’s neck. Her lips curled into a sly grin. “I could show you some Demon Essence if you carry me safely to something soft.” Settling comfortably, she ended up looking at the night skies and the stars there, trying to find any of the constellations that had been mentioned. Shaking her head, she gave up. “I can’t decide if the night sky here is the same or different than in Ferelden.”

Zad smiled, leaning down kissing the woman’s lips as she grined. “That a promise?” He joked cradling her head some more glancing up at the sky with her. “Hmm seems everything in this land is just as the same as it is different in Ferelden. I talked with that warrior princess of theirs before I came for you. Seems their free people don’t always get along as well either. Elves wanting solitude, Dwarves wanting treasure, Humans wanting power. It’s all very...similar.” He chuckled, spotting the bulk of their tent against the night sky. No fire was made, but it looked in one piece still.

“The warrior princess….Nienor?” Eli blinked, surprised that Zad would have gone to find the young woman. They were both hard headed and determined, with enough zest to light fires at night. “You didn’t do anything stupid, hic, did you?”

Zadkiel snorted and smiled, laying the woman down on her bedroll inside before he began pulling his sword and boots off. “Me? I would never. You know I was raised better than that.” He winked at her quickly wiping Darkspawn blood off his boots before putting them outside. “Just...tested her a little.”

“If I didn’t know you better, I would almost believe you,” Eli sat up, starting to pull off her own boots and slipping the daggers from her hiding places. Her motions were a bit sloppier than usual but she slowly managed to get her boots off before flopping back down. “I am not sure why people here do not get along - the Elves at Rivendell are quite fun!”

The man watched her struggle with her boots and blades in amusement before pulling off his jerkin and placing his Silverite sword next to his bedroll with easy arm’s reach before partially tieng the front of their tent shut. “Why do our people not get along?” Once that was done he laid back folding his hands under his head stretching a little. “Seems anywhere you go someone has a reason to grumble.”

“Oh, you grumble the same as any of them,” Eli teased, happy that her wit remained clear if not her motorics or speech. Flopping down, she shimmied over to rest her head on Zad’s chest. “About Wardens, about Darkspawn, your dad…” she giggled, remembering something the man had said a long time ago about his father.

He laughed rolling over wrapping his arms around his woman pulling her close enough to kiss again while his hand slipped under her top a little to brush the skin of her hip. “I never said I don’t grumble, besides that still proves my point about never being able to escape it.” Laying his head in his hand before he began to swirl his fingertips around Eli’s stomach. “But yes I seem to have been grumbling about my dad a lot recently haven’t I? Imagine the blood vessels he’d blow seeing us like this.” He chuckled softly.

“Oh I’m sure he knows about it,” Eli giggled. “He did catch me in your bath at one point - the look on his face was priceless. I wasn’t sure if he was suffocating or having a heart attack. He stormed off though rather quickly.” Kissing Zad, she settled down, her fingers rubbing his chin gently. “I think you are overdue for a shave love.”

The man smiled inching a little bit closer. “Yes and he stormed right into my room where he nearly flipped my mattress over on top of me. Luckily I had redressed in my clothes so I was able to convince him you just wanted some privacy to bathe after an early morning training session.” He slipped his hands under her vest more exposing her firm midriff to his exploring hands. “Hmm you did promise to show me some Demon Essense just a few minutes ago I think.” Winking again he leaned down and kissed her neck and chest gently.

“Oh did I?” Eli grinned, responding to his kisses and arching her back slightly.

Zadkiel smiled pulling the woman up to straddle his waist before he finished pulling her vest off completely. “I believe it was another Warden’s promise.” Gripping her hips he pulled the woman down into the first passionate kiss of a very passionate night.

[P.K.]

Lu had found her way across into the old portion of the elven city. Though it had grown dark and there wasn’t much firelight here, it didn’t bother her as she moved through the darkness feeling some comfort in the shadows as her eyes cast around through the moonlight that illuminated the pictures and etching upon the walls.
Caw huddled upon her shoulder, ruffled his feathers from time to time but had remained silent occasionally pecking at strands of her tangled braided hair.
With awe she gently caressed one of the paintings upon the wall with her fingers, trying to take every fine detail in through the pale light of the moon. She would never have dreamed to come to such a place when she was younger, and though these times were dire and much strife back the way they had come and were to go once more, she couldn’t help but find herself settling into the quiet, graceful stillness of this magical place. There was no sense of danger, and though a sense of discomfort loomed over her it rested quietly in the back of her mind as the others were far from her.
She stepped quietly across great stone walkways caressing the stonework. There was no such works of art in mordor, carvings were crude and made carelessly, after all there was no time to waste on making something look nice but here not only was it beautiful, it was sturdy.
She paused at another mural and could only wonder what story it was telling as she traced her fingers along the figures.

Fen trailed the halls slowly, taking in the dusty halls and overgrown walls. The scents were strange amongst the elven home, the images strangely preserved despite the call of time. While he had gone to hunt a place to rest among nature, the halls had called to him. Knowing that this is what the Dalish could have been, architects of the lands and people, left a sour note in his mouth. Nothing about these lands they were upon seemed natural or familiar, even the trees held a different scent to it.

His wanderings pulled him around the visual paintings and etchings along the wall, the lengthening shadows giving them an ethereal visage that etched in his mind. He paused though as a new scent caught his mind. The shifting dust and the scent of sun baked flesh and fur drew him up short. Hands rested upon his weapons as he shifted the wolf helm down upon his face, readying for anything. Was it enemy or other? Had another been drawn the mysteries and intrigue of the forgotten treasures carved into the stones. Fen shifted forward, keeping his body still as he watched the ground, waiting for the shift in shadows.
What first caught his eyes was the visage of pointed ears and elongated snout of a wolf. Fen smirked to himself, not surprised that a creature would find its way into these halls, a cozy dry home, with more than enough room to claim as their own. He had thought first of confronting the creature first, but caution drew him short. These were not his forest kin, nor would they know his calm. A look over his shoulder told him that the people in the main city would not falter in killing this kind beast for its flesh and meat.

Shifting the cloak over his form and lowering the helm more, he scuffed the ground, moving into the fading light, allowing his form to cast his own shadow down the halls. He would lead this creature out of the halls, back into the nearby woods.

Lu had been sucked into the story she didn’t understand detailed on the walls before her, her steps slow as she paused every now and then to study the weather faded colors. As enthralled as she was with this place she still caught the sound of shuffling down the hall and stopped casting her eyes down the hall. In the moonlight she could make out the telltale form of what looked to be a large wolf.

Lu quietly cursed herself for laxing her guard, She’d been so caught up in her exploration she’d all but forgotten to be wry in this place that she assumed she would be at least safe. All to used to seeing massive wargs roaming the waists of her home she could only wonder how one had made it this far into the evelen city without being spotted? Had another stray orc tribe attacked? And why did she not hear any fighting?
Fortunately Caw remained quiet but she was certain that it had spotted her, out running a warg was impossible on foot, but they were large and graceless she might be able to lose it in the halls and forge her way back to the city to warn the others.
Lu ducked suddenly into the shadows and pounded down the hall in the opposite direction fumbling for her dagger as she ran.

As soon as Fen heard the pounding steps and vanishing shadows, Fen knew his plan was botched. The creature had decided to take flight into the ruined halls, and he knew letting it run free only let it get closer to the army. Giving a low grumble in his chest, Fen took off after the fleeing shadow, slipping on his metal claws quietly. Already thoughts of neutralizing the creature in hopes to bring it away from the people.

*Cursed beast* Fen grumbled through his chest as he kept even pace with the wolf shadow, trying to gain distance over the beast without causing it to turn on him in aggresion.

Caw flapped his wings as he clutched into her shoulder keeping himself tucked against her as closely as possible as she ran, knife in her hand. To her confusion she didn’t hear the click of massive claws on stone or the ragged breath and growl of a warg right on her heels. She glanced over her shoulder noticing the shadow following her but at an even pace.
This was not the way of a warg, at least none that she’d ever known. Could it be a Caragor? But that seemed even less likely. But it was far too large to be a regular wolf.
Lu ducked around a piller and made for a set of stairs leading down, half way down she made a leap off the side and into some trees and shrubs below. She landed heavily on all fours before she began to hastily pick her way through the brush. Wargs were not graceful and if it was indeed one she’d hear it crashing around behind her as she found a suitable spot to hunker down.

Fen was surprised at how quick it had managed to keep ahead of him, the shadow his only mark to follow. He kept up his pace as soon as he heard the massive thud as a body hit the ground. Moving closer, Fen stalled at the top set of stairs, scanning the ground. Looking across what he could see, the beast had either misstepped and dropped onto the ground, or had taken an unplanned shortcut. Looking across the wall, he tested it's strength and how well he could grip into it. Gripping it, he swung his body over it, letting his weight pull him down, his metal claws slow his descent to land onto the damp ground nearby.

"Now, where are you?" Fen whispered to himself, shifting his weight as he inched forward, his body coiled and ready. He knew how the woods worked, shadows offering sanctuary and scares. The beast, if it decided to attack him, would be able to attack from any moment, so Fen had to be ready for anything. Years in the forests prepared him for his lands, but this world was not his, so the shadows held no warmth for him. If he wanted to survive it, he would have to be alert for anything that may come his way.

Lu hunkered in the deep shadows of the trees, knife held in front of her at the ready as she strained her ears. She cocked her head, she shouldn’t have to strain this hard to hear a warg, but what she did hear instead was the strange metallic strace against stone. She was taken back. Was it not a warg chasing her? Then what was it?

She heard a whisper of a voice but could not make out the words. Was she being followed by a person? Lu did not move as she thought over her options. If it was a person she could wait them out. But were they friend or foe? Caw seemed to grow impatient with the quiet and picked at strands of her hair. She ignored him as she strained to hear where this thing might be moving before she’d attempt to move around it in the opposite direction preferring not to have a confrontation of any kind.

Caw shifted his weight, beginning to bob on her shoulder not seeming to sense the tension or not seeming to care before he was swept off her shoulder by a low hanging branch. The bird burst into complaint, as he struggled to right himself from his back and back into his feet. Lu whipped around trying to locate the black bird in the dark.

Fen stalled as the distressed sounds of a crow in the air, his eyes pivoting around the shadows. Had the wolf startled a crows nest? Had he done so while hunting his target? He tilted his head towards the tree line, looking for the source. He hunched to the ground further, coiling muscles and slowing his breath. Fen needed to be ready for anything that might strike him. He began shifting around his weight, scanning the trees for darker shades. He scanned, his ears straining for any noise outside the crow...There!

"You're mine!" Fen growled deep as he pounced, aiming for where both the sound and darker shadows had resided. Muscles snapped apart as he directed himself, arms outstretched to catch the wolf square in the chest.

Lu had located Caw by sound and could just make out the frantic bird though the sheen on his feathers. But before she could scoop the bird up into her protective arms she heard words she’d only heard once before when she was still young.

Lu felt something collide with her, knocking her to the ground. A heavy grunt was pulled from her upon impact with the ground before she started flailing wildly at the heavy weight on top of her, knife glinting in the vague light. She’d survived for so long she was not about to be brought down here.

Fen rolled off as the two bodies rolled across the ground. When he had managed to connect with the shadow of what he figured to be the wolf, feeling the flesh and muscles instead of sinew and fur. As he righted himself, he could see the silhouette of the orc woman that was with him. Fen hadn't the chance to talk with her, but he recognized that helm of hers, the shadows having made it harder to tell.

"Ah, you're not a wolf." Fen responded as he raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

Lu felt the weight leave and she quickly rolled to her knees, knife out in front of her. She however froze as she heard it speak. She cocked her head but remained tense. “And you are not a warg.” She responded by studying the shadow for a moment where it stood before she started to skirt around, keeping at a distance still as she made her way to the still struggling crow.

With her empty hand she scooped up the crow, but in this light she couldn’t make out if he was injured or not, just the faint glint of his black eyes. But she made sure the stranger's shadow was always in sight as she slowly pushed herself to her feet. “You're from the far lands.” She said after a moment only relaxing a little. “With the strange Elves and men.” Perhaps that was rude, they were only strange to her, as she was to them. Against her instincts she sheathed her knife.

"I did not mean to attack. I thought you a wolf." Fen spoke as he placed his weapons away, drawing himself upright from his crouched position. Giving a slight stretch of his body, he moved towards an open area, able to view her in the waning light. He could make out the dark clothing and the dark crow that rested in her grasp. Rolling his shoulders, he studied her even further.

"You're one of those strange Orc people from before." Fen responded after he shifted the helm upright to see the woman orc better than before.

Lu hesitated for a moment as he moved into a more open spot, where the moon revealed more. But after a moment she moved after him, though remained a wry distance. He wasn’t hostile now, perhaps it was a misunderstanding, she two thought he was an animal after all.

She pushed her hood back allowing it to fall revealing her tangled braided nest of hair. She glanced at him once before turning her eyes to caw to examine him. “Yes, I am an orc.” she confirmed. It never really seemed to matter to differentiate between a full orc and a half orc so she didn’t bother as she carefully examined Caw’s healing wing. “I was not expecting anyone else to be in the ruins.” She admitted after a moment. She was glad it wasn’t an elf though, they would be less friendly with her being here she thought.

" I am not. They are rather enticing and quiet." Fen spoke as he settled against the wall, taking in the ruins before taking in the woman. He studied the girl, taking in the dagger by her side and the crow on her shoulder. The wild tangle of her braided hair, giving her a much more wild yet human look from the creatures they had fought not long before.

"My name is Da'lenfen, grey warden and dalish elf of the woods. I go by Fen." Fen introduced himself.

The she orc nodded in agreement about the ruins pausing to look them over once more but pulled her mind from the tantalizing pictures in the halls and back to her company. Lu perked a little as he mentioned that he was, in fact, an elf. Curious, he had not been able to tell in the moonlight The elves she knew and these Dalish were… different.. She mulled over his name for a moment. “I am Lushak. And this is caw.” She said as the bird pecked at one of her braids as if to remind her that he was there and deserved an introduction as well.

There was a pause before Lu leaned a little closer, but did not step closer. “You're different from the elves in these lands.” Even here there were different elves, but they all seemed to share the same high magical air about them but from a distance she’d noticed the Dalish carry themselves differently.

"I have noted that. I am not sure what caused it, but seeing what could have been, I feel at a loss. Our lands are a vast difference from what this is." Fen spoke, nodding at Lushak at her notice of their differences, yet just as it was. There was no avoidance or distaste in her tons. Just stated fact.

"So, why fight on our side?" He asked her quite bluntly, fixing her with a steady gaze.

Lu blinked slowly at the direct question. A good question. “I’m not the only orc that’s fighting with the free races.” She responded. “Some tribes have an... Uneasy truce, Mordor was the first to be claimed by these wrong and they were pushed from their hunting grounds. some had at least enough sense to know they could not survive without… a fragile alliance.” She gave a shrug. “Besides that, I hold little love for my kin to begin with.” she said recalling the few she’d killed at the raid when their new allies first arrived.

"A fight for mutual survival. I can understand that." Fen spoke with a now of his head, giving the orc a genuine smile. His only worry was how passive she was of fighting her own kind so easily. Would that lead her to joining the winning side if it came down to the wire, or would whatever honor she had keep her on their side.

"So what brought you to these ruins? Looking for a place to rest?" Fen asked the woman, eyes wondering over caw.

Lu nodded in return, watching his smile. The smiles between orcs and free races were vastly different, when an Orc smiled it meant something terrible was going to happen to someone, when a free race smiled it meant something entirely different. It was curious but much nicer.

“Not really.” She said after a moment. “I was… curious. There’s no such structures in Mordor, nothing quite this… beautiful.” She admitted. Compared to all the new places she’d seen, Mordor was quite bleak.

"I can understand that feeling. Thedas has its places, but nothing the Dalish have retained match this beauty." Fen spoke, waving absentmindedly around the place. He could relate to looking over the place for its history and possibilities. She was in awe of its looks while Fen was enjoying it for the potential that could have been.

"We shouldn't linger here for long though. Not sure how long we'll be here, and rest would be good." Fen commented to Lu, stretching himself to his full height.

“Yes, I suppose you are right.” Lu agreed almost reluctantly.

[Dnafein]

As the evening stretched into night the largest Warden in Rivendell helped himself to what he could. He sampled every type of food and drink present, and a surprising number of them made his journal. Grif wandered the streets, studying the architecture and people. And when he found it, he dove deep into the library; He read those histories and journals written in the common tongue until he was pulled from the library and dragged back to the feast. The rest of the evening turned into a blur of delicious drinks and company.

Until Grif could smell smoke and blood. And then he was in the middle of it, a massive blade cutting a swath through orcs. Shrugging off attacks that would fell smaller creatures; Around him the clash of steel and screams of the dying surrounded him. A deep throaty laugh dripped from his throat as he charged a group of foes. Suddenly he was circling the battlefield above his focus pulled from ogre below. His wings flapped and he tilted into another turn.

Landing at the outskirts Grif felt the cone of purple flame leave his mouth, melting the flesh and metal of his targets. Charging into the conflict the dragon lunged clamping its teeth around an orc. Grif could feel the crunch and grind of the orc between his teeth. Lunging up from sleep the qunari snarled, hands ready to fight The companions he shared the bed with stirred slightly at the move.

Grif panted as the nightmare began to fade. All doubt this was a blight was wiped from his mind. He had read of the nightmares Wardens suffered when an Archdemon roamed the world. What he could recall felt real as if he was actually the Archdemon. Even still he could feel the presence of Darkspawn.

Griffin leapt out of bed grabbing his blades as he dashed out the door, oblivious to his naked state focused instead on the innate sense granted to wardens by the joining. The Tal-Vashoth raised his voice to a bellow as he slammed into the vague shape stalking down the street. He stopped on the neck of the creature he had charged into. The lithe shaped darkspawn twitched as it died.

“Wardens up!” Grif bellowed, his voice joined by the ear-piercing shriek of the Darkspawn sent to assassinate the threat to the Archdemon.

[SikstaSlathalin]

After a few rounds of fun with the woman he loved the last thing the Constable expected were nightmares of the Archdemon. But considering what they were here for those should've been the first things he expected. As he tossed and turned on his bedroll though no doubt jostling Eli as she was tormented by the same nightmares.

Before he even heard Grif's call to arms he was up and out of his tent sword in hand and a cold wind whisking through the thin fabric of his smallclothes. They hadn't been dumb enough to leave no guards posted even in the heart of the Elvin defenders. So they must've found some weakspot to exploit which means a guiding intelligence again or inside help. But he couldn't even begin to think of anyone who would help Darkspawn into the camp. So that just meant the guards were either taken out or they had left a hole somewhere. If they survived all this they would need to fill up all the holes.

Grabbing his shield he blocked the first swipe at his head and took the Shriek's head off with a single slash of his sword. He could hear the Rivendell Elves shouting in their native tongues followed by the ear piercing screams of dying Darkspawn.

[Breggo13]

The archdemon was unlike any she had seen previously. The beast towered over anything depicted in paintings or even her own dreams - it was more massive than the whole of Rivendell or even Redcliff. The wings seemed to stretch across the sky, covering the horizon edge to edge, blocking out the sun and allowing the monsters to march out into the fields. Unexplainable anger and hunger for blood echoed in the golden eyes of the creature, so intelligent that it made her skin crawl. His scales were scratched and worn, holding onto the battles and memories of the past. With her breath caught in her throat - from awe or fear, Eli couldn’t quite tell - the Warden tried to recall everything she ever knew of the legends and lore surrounding the archdemon. How was it that in all their training, few spoke or cared about the origins of the monster but only about how to kill it? Purple flames erupted from the mouth and the call, the sweet and tempting call that made her tremble to her bones…

Grif’s loud below and her lover’s aggressive movements beside her jerked her from the nightmare, her hand holding her daggers and panting loudly. The commotion outside the tent made her curse and slip into discarded garments with lightning speed, her head pounding as though her brain was evolving into something dark. “Maker save me from ever challenging these elves to a drinking game again,” the woman cursed, slipping out into the dark and immediately blending into the shadow. As hazel eyes observed the surrounding, she activated the runestones in her daggers, sending the weapons into a slight hum. Stalking in the shadows, she tried to slowly grasp what was happening though her mind remained sluggish.

“Grif,” she gritted her teeth, watching the naked Qunari in the middle of the battle, the darkspawn attracted to him as the most aggressive - and the most tasty. Slipping between the beasts and adding a few injuries to the monsters as she passed, she attacked those trying to get the large Warden from behind, ending them in a flurry of precise cuts that barely met the eye. Panting as she ended up back to back with the taller man, she gripped her weapons in both hands. “Has your mother never taught you courtesy? There are unmarried women around!” She exclaimed, faking anger as she fought with the beasts attacking them.

“A few of them kept me company.” Grif answered, kicking a Shriek in it’s pointed nose. His blades quickly gutted the stunned beast. “One of them even offered a recipe for that bread of theirs. I see you had time to get dressed.”

“I had to make sure I could stand up without falling,” Eli grimased, hissing as a creature almost got her, forcing her to duck and roll to the side. Bouncing up on her feet, she finished it off in a few movements but the motion made her stomach turn. Obviously, all she needed was to discharge the content of her stomach in the middle of a fight. Would that disgust the creatures enough to go away? “I am impressed - I thought it would take you more to get the recipe.”

Grif stabbed an attacker briefly letting go of his blade to grab another by the throat throwing the creature aside before retrieving his cutlass. “You and I never got the chance to ‘Negotiate.” Grif grunted, shoving his blade into a shriek's gut. “Seen anyone else up?”

“Mmm, make sure Zad never hears you say that,” she grinned, wiping sweat from her forehead as the shrieks pulled back for a second, giving them both a moment to breathe. “Speaking of that leader of ours, he must be around here somewhere. The rest - I was too busy trying to save your touche.” She butted him with her own butt in jest before the fight began again. “Where did these creatures come from?!”

“A broodmother,” Grif shrugged, his eyes flickering over the shrieks. As he turned his head he strained his ears listening for the sound of combat elsewhere. The echo of a familiar bark reached his ears, causing Grif to smirk. “Well the alarm’s definitely been sounded.” The Qunari swept his blades across in front of him causing all but one to jump back the one who didn’t being cut down. Grif than reached back and hooked an arm inside of Eli’s and pulled, swinging her towards the ones who had jumped back from his blades. Turning himself to charge at the shrieks who had faced her.

“Such a gentleman,” Eli rolled her eyes, blocking the attacks of the shrieks with her blades and making a face as the stench of their breaths reached her. “What, oh what, would I do without you taking on the blunt of the attack?” She didn’t mind, knowing it was the most logical approach. With her short blades and close-quarters style, she was better to face off with the odd foes as opposed to a mob. She had done it before but that required more concentration and preparation than she was ready to undergo now.

“We need to make sure that they don’t make it to the upper levels,” she called, her lightning blades burning holes in the dark flesh of the beasts. The smell of burned meat made her stomach turn and she pushed away the corpse with her leg. “We should head towards the rest of the team.”

Grif kicked the corpse at his feet. He held up a hand in Eli’s direction and stepped back into the room he had been sleeping saying. “Hold on, don’t wanna scare everyone.” Pulling his pants on carefully before exiting the room. “Do you know where they bedded down?” He asked, motioning her to lead the way. “I was a little drunk and distracted.”

"And here I was enjoying the view," Eli teased, cleaning the blood off her blades. Looking around, she found a water skin that was half full. Opening the top, she gulped down a few sips before offering the Qunari. "I was a bit….distracted to care." She confessed.

“Make sure Zad never hears you say that.” Grif quoted before taking a mouthful of water. Swishing it in his mouth he spat it at the nearest corpse. He pointed in the direction he heard barking. “Sir Bartholomew is that way. He’s loud enough to gather the rest and who doesn’t show up he can sniff out.”

[Koti~]

Wind rippled through my scales, biting cold bringing both a sense of dread and freedom rippling along my spines. Powerful wings pushed down, sending me spear-heading into the air. I angled downwards, sinews of muscles and wrong bones bracing as I dug into the mountainside, screams echoing as bodies and blood mixed into the air, talons digging deeper into the stone as I pumped my wings, body coiling as I pulled higher into the air, the cries falling into the lands as I pulled higher up into the cloud banks, the stench of burning corpses mingling with ash and..

Azoca sucked in air with a gasp, his entire body clenching as he bolted awake. He couldn't describe the dream as the world slowly returned to focus, yet the screams didn't end. He could feel the cold air as he twisted himself free of the tangled blankets that he had been given for the night. He wiped the sweat off his body as he finally got himself upright as he finally realized that the screams he could hear were not just part of that strange dream, but real. Moments after finally grabbing his staff, he could hear the sounds of blades meeting bodies and beasts shrieking around them. Having camped up on the upper levels with the other mages, to accommodate the number of people they had with them. Most were already scrambling to join the fights, others going to shore up the weaker points and to avoid getting in the way of the wardens already clearing a path way.

Azoca though, was at a bit of a loss as where to start. He had already grabbed his staff and was moving with his group, but there was little to help with. His only real offensive spell was too destructive for the halls they were roomed in. The other would do great for holding them off, but if he had no way to kill them off, it would be an effective bottle neck. Azoca already let his mind start to run on everything he had learned to kill shriek as fast as possible. Most involved silverlite metals and just stabbing them through the brains or chest, with the simplest being to cut them down to pieces. His staff would work for that, but Azoca had never been one for close combat fights. He had been distance fighting, and the staff was meant for a last resort.

"Gods, why am I so useless for this. There's nothing I can do short of bashing them in the head with my staff… my staff. Wait.. that's it." Azoca smacked his head for sleep having addled his brain, having remained in the back to avoid getting in the way. Channeling some magic into the rune of his staff, he sent off a fireball into the boards of monsters, watching one stumble and shriek as it smacked away the small flames along it's chest. Azoca launched more of them as spells began to fly around him, watching monsters stumble from his spells before others took them out. He felt a small bit proud that he could still help, but it was minimal over what the others were doing to help out.

"This is insufficient." Azoca grumbled while launching a few more volleys into the grouping of monsters. Even with that help, creatures were still piling up faster. The dead were trampled or bodies out of the way. He had an idea though as he looked to them, and felt a bit of pride swell as he dropped back, piling as much magic together as he looked towards the larger boards that kept moving forward.

"Pull of the abyss!" Azoca unleashed the spell into the group, watching as the creatures were pulled into the center, aggravated screeches as they were pulled higher. Holding the magic with one hand, Azoca pointed his staff and sucked in as much air as possible, focusing as much as he could to keep the pull going while activating the fire rune on his staff once more. With a grunt of effort, he began pelting the growing mass of bodies with fire, their shrieks growing louder as the fire stuck, turning the shriek into a burning pile of limbs and burnt flesh. The scent was enough to turn his stomach, breaking his concentration and allowing the pile to slide more into the ground, yet the damage had already been done, and allowing the smog of ash and burnt flesh finally start wafting around.

On the plus side the hall was much more lit than before, and it clogged up at least one of the paths for the shriek. Hopefully he had done the right thing.

[SikstaSlathalin]

Nienor wasn’t able to sleep - the conversation she had with the newcomer kept echoing in her mind, forcing deep dark fears to surface. Her mind filled with the dead being dragged away into the shadowlands, the flight of the great dragon in the horizon and the dread filling her heart. Not bothering to try falling asleep, the young woman ended up making her way to the hidden bridge that was the secret meeting place of her ancestors. The area had been left mostly alone - the small bridge was worn with age and the plants grew more wild but the serenity remained. Pausing to take in the cool shadows of the hidden oasis, Nienor let out a sigh. What did the stranger mean - become a Grey Warden? Become like him...he said it as though he no longer was a Man but something entirely different.

Taking one more look at the water and her own pale reflection, the young woman started back towards her rooms, absently playing with her necklace. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t right away focus on the constant feeling of unease presently distracting her. Only her instincts, her body trained to act on reflexes, saved her - she stopped short of the corner, a dark blade colliding into the wall where her head was about to be. Cursing, Nienor grabbed for her weapons, stepping back as her eyes took in the evil beings streaming into the lower levels of the elven city.

“You dare?!” The yell was pure anger, enough to make the creatures stop for a second and the young woman to pull out her sword. The hesitation was momentary - almost immediately all those looking for a fight turned to her body, chattering with excitement.

As one of the lanky beasts charged at the warrior woman there was a loud twang from the left and a crossbow bolt took the creature’s head off before Jagmar charged through the others with his halberd swinging in a wide arch it didn’t kill many but it made the rest jump back a little so he could get to the human’s side. “Couldn’t sleep either lassie?” He shouted, taking the legs out from another close monster.

“Can anyone with this ruckus?” Nienor muttered under her breathe as she swung her sword, dodging one of the creatures’ attacks. Pushing back her unruly hair, some of which ended up in her eyes, she looked around at Jagmar, inwardly happy he appeared. Judging by the amount of beasts she could see, no thanks to the dark light, it was very much more than one could handle alone. “What in Mordor’s name are these things?!” She exclaimed, using her foot to push off a dead body from her blade, having pierced the said thing clean through. The effort left dark stains on her steel, resembling dark runes she could not decipher.


The Dwarf let out a low laugh cleaving one of the creature’s heads before he brought the put of his halberd into it’s chest sending it tumbling into one of his comrades. “On my way here, I think I saw the Hobbit asleep in an apple barrel. If anyone can sleep through this attack it would be him, I heard some of the Wardens call them...Shrieks on my way down here.” Jumping back he swung out wide again, keeping the creatures from surrounding them.

“Gods above, more Warden nonsense,” Nienor growled as she parried a blow, wincing when her wrist echoed in response - she had blocked direct as opposed to smoothly guiding the opponent’s weapon away. Annoyed, she twisted her blade in a riposte, ending up cutting the Shriek’s body from ribcage to stomach and scrunching her nose as the fowl scent of half-rotten insides filled her space. “Hopefully that Hobbit stays hidden for the remainder of the fight, sleeping or not.”

Laughing again the Bounty Hunter took out the last of the attacking group taking a deep breath hearing sounds of battle in other parts of Rivendell. “Ay, considering the sound the damned things make the name make sense, but doesn’t seem to do them justice. These fucking things turn invisible I’ve seen it.” Planting his weapon on the ground he wiped sweat from his brow. “Sounds like we aren’t the only ones these things woke up.”

“DUCK!” Nienor yelled, grabbing the closest thing to her and throwing it at the face of the Shriek coming upon the Dwarf with all her might. The beautiful vase, white and blue, probably of the Third Age if not the Second, threw the creature back, breaking and ricocheting all over with sharp shards of porcelain. Raising her arm and wincing as a shard scratched her, Nienor wondered how much the Elves cared about that particular relic and how much trouble she was going to be in once the fight was over. If it ended in their victory…

Duck was never something a Dwarf expects to hear, but he instinctively dropped his head. The creature screamed in pain as it hit the ground. Reacting, Jagmar stabbed the spearpoint of his weapon into its head, killing it on the spot. “Thanks Princess, come on we best find some of the Warden and mount some kind of defense.” Pulling his weapon free, he moved back to the woman’s side nodding up at her.

“You’re right,” Nienor bit her lip, deciding there was no way she could resurrect the old vase and if the Shrieks had overrun the place, it would have been destroyed anyway. Looking at her bloodied sword, she shook off whatever drops she could before looking around. “I guess we should head the way Shrieks entered - would be stupid to expose the same path for a breach.”

Jagmar nodded looking around them, the darkness making it difficult, but following the sounds of battle he could narrow it down to the hills in the forest. “Sounds like they came from the hills.” He shook the black blood from his weapon. “Did you see where that red armored man was sleeping? He seems to be the leader of the group.” Shouldering his weapon he began walking towards the area where most of the group had eaten dinner.

Nienor let him go forward to hide her pained expression. Her mood was still sour when it came to the leader of the Grey Wardens, whatever it was they were, whatever made them different. Not wanting Jagmar to see her face, she grunted something to signify she had no idea. Letting out a breath, she got over her pride enough to give a more coherent answer. “They were camping out in the east wing. Well, camping or using the rooms, I don’t know.”

Jagmar nodded, taking off at a Dwarvish jog. “Ha I bet the Elves loved that idea. Come on sounds like it’s centered out there. I guess whatever is in charge of these Darkspawn wanna kill the best chance we have to fight it!” Running has never been a Dwarf’s strong suit, but the old stump managed to keep up with the long legged woman well enough seeing the bulk of the Shriek’s indeed swarming on the small ring of Warden tents in the East Wing many of the Fereldens fighting naked or in their small clothes. With a loud bark of a laugh Jagmar shook his head. “Well at least we know the Wardens weren’t surprised.”

“What a relief,” Nienor couldn’t stop an eye roll before flexing her fingers and getting a better grip on her sword. Regardless of her own mixed feelings, she couldn’t turn her back on these people at least because if they fall, Rivendell falls. At most, because she was a goddamn hero. Some days, she hated being raised as a warrior.

With only a nod in agreement Jagmar charged into the fray barreling through the outliers bashing and slashing his way through the assassins. Marvelling at how many the Warden had slain before they arrived. Whatever sentires they had seems to have cut off reinforcements might be coming. He soon reached the half naked leader amazed at how pale he was for a human. “Hail Grey Warden I hope these freaks didn’t disturb anything more pleasant.” He joked chopping at the weirdly bent legs of the Shrieks.

Zadkiel’s muscular body was already coated in a fine sheen of sweat when the one eyed Dwarf and Warrior Princess showed up, and despite having held his own he was glad for their arrival. “They did sadly, but we’ve had worse.” He let out a deep yell and caved a Darkspawn’s head in with his shield.

Nienor couldn’t help being slightly impressed as the Wrong fell down, his skull crushed and mauled inward. Sidestepping, she nodded in approval, immediately throwing her hand out to slice the limb off of another creature, finishing the movement with the blade in his chest.

No more words were spoken as the three warriors battled the Darkspawn. It was unclear what numbers they attacked with, but by the time the monsters were on the run at least ten were lying dead around Nienor, Zadkiel, and Jagmar. The old Dwarf was the first to take a knee sweat tricking off the tip of his nose as he learned against his halberd. “Tell me this won’t be a nightly occurrence Warden.”

Like Jagmar Zadkiel was panting and sweaty, but before he answered the Dwarf he retrieved his pants and a jerkin as the cool night air began to needle at his cooling body. “I can’t say for sure Master Dwarf, attacks like this are not uncommon during a Blight back in Ferelden, but usually the Archdemon doesn’t waste it’s forces on sending constant nightly attacks. Here though...everything is new so maybe...maybe not. I would like to know what happened to our sentires.” He wiped sweat from his brow before pulling on his boots and sheathing his sword.

“Dead, probably,” Nienor did one of the most unlady like things - she spat on the ground, wiping her mouth with her arm. The smell of blood - thankfully not her own - seemed to overwhelm the air and she could practically taste it. She kicked one of the dead bodies, frowning when she saw the face. “How are they made?”

Zadkiel bit his lip at her question, he knew how every Darkspawn was made, but just shouting it out in the open like this might cause undo panic. “Huh it’s complicated, come with me if you really wish to know. We must check on the others, I sincerely hope the sentries aren’t all dead there should’ve been someone from Ferelden at every post and we know what to look for when it comes to Shriek’s.”

Jagmar waved the two younger warriors on. “You two go ahead, I’ll help with clean-up here.”

Nienor shot the dwarf a glance before pursing her lips and following the Warden. Silently, she gripped Jagmar’s shoulder in thanks as she passed him, knowing deep down that she needed to understand as much as possible about what they were fighting.

Moving swiftly across the small battlefield Zadkiel was disturbed to see that more than a few of the Sentries were indeed dead and most of those were on the Endoran side. Many of the posts were overwhelmed before a proper defense or alarm could be given. They would need to double future guards. So much for Rivendell being one of the safest places in Endor. After a few posts were checked Zadkiel shook his head once they were far enough away from the bulk of the group. “Do you really wish to know where the Darkspawn come from?” He asked almost nervously.

Nienor raised an eyebrow, not understanding why the man was suddenly acting so nervous. Her lips were drawn in a line though she said nothing as they passed the dead Elves, only her lips whispering a last blessing. She no longer cried for the dead - she had no more tears to spare. The irony of her name was all the bigger for it.

Leaning against a railing he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “The Darkspawn come from creatures called Broodmothers. Women are kidnapped by Darkspawn and then continuously violated by them. She is then forced to only drink Darkspawn blood and eat Darkspawn flesh. Soon she is corrupted enough and becomes a Broodmother, each race makes a different kind of Broodmother and every Broodmother births a different type of Darkspawn. Human females make Hurlocks, Dwarves make Genlocks, Qunari make Ogres, and...Elves make Shrieks.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “We don’t know what every race in Endor would make, but rest assured if it has a female version around the Darkspawn will find her and turn her into a Broodmother.”

Nienor’s hands balled into fists. She said nothing, only looking down at her feet, her boots covered in splatters of dark blood. It wasn’t just her boots - all of her clothes were covered in the sticky stinky substance. She simply had gotten used to it over the years. For the first time, she found herself smirking darkly, her mind thinking over what the Man before her had said. In her history lessons, they were taught that Orcs, driven mad by the ring of power, were monsters and murderers. Oh, how silly all those who remembered that time were! Just murder...just death….It was so simple. Yes, bodies were mauled and decapitated and grotesquely ripped apart but in comparison, what the Orcs of Mordor had done was pure innocence.

Zadkiel didn’t expect her to speak, but her smile was the most unexpected thing. Still responses to learning the dark and sick truth about Darkspawn and Broodmothers were always unexpected. Giving her a small nod, he moved off the railing and went back to finishing the check in.

Nienor watched him go, shaking her head in thought. The Wrong was infecting much more than just the land - if people knew, they would be broken, shattered. This secret and - the young woman gulped, suddenly pale - this fear has to stay with her and her alone. “I will not fall,” she whispered into the wind, persuading herself, “I will not let this fear grip me. Nor will I let it destroy me. I….I will not fall.”

[P.K.]

Lu's had slept sparcly that night. She'd been unable to locate Jocko when she returned from the ruins. She'd found herself seeking out a secluded height to watch the city from. She'd wrapped her cloak tightly around her and watched the starlight dance across the waterfalls. At some point she'd fallen asleep but some hours later Caw began to tug on her braids and squawk. Lu rubbed at her tired eyes pushing the bird away as she let out a yawn. The day had been long and she'd already staid up late enough but as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretchered the ache out of her body she became awear of an uneasy feeling.

the eerie feeling making her group around for her bow. Alert now she carefully got to her feet, Caw having gone quite, only the soft click of his talons as he hopped across the stone as she gingerly made her way over to the edge. And that is when the sounds of battle erupted somewhere below.

Lu dropped over the edge, keeping as quite as she could as she turned, scooping up Caw and began making her way towards the commotion. It wasn't long before she was able to slip behind the supply crates that were brought in. Most of the commotion was seemed to be further away but she could hear the sounds of fighting all around her. She moved herself into a more suitable position to peek over the crates into the more open space beyond.

Elves and men scattered as the wrong flooded in. The only reason she knew was because of how sickeningly unfamiliar they seemed. But worst of all the gathered combatants seemed to be having a difficult time, these things were fast, and worst of all she watched as one vanished after bringing down a man. She crouched behind the crate with a frown, hopping that Jocko was somewhere safe, or at least in a group of suitable fighters. How did one fight something they could not see? She didn't have that man from last night, Fen, to ask, he'd dealt with these things before, likely he'd have a answer. But she was one her own.

She winced at the dying scream of another man before glancing at her bow. She couldn't hit something she couldn't see. And she didn't have enough arrows to waist on a blind shot. She huffed softly unwilling to go out Physically, close combat was not her strong suit. Her eyes narrowed however as they spotted a familier bag, Flour. She was familier enough with the stuff, but a thought accrued to her about the powdery substance. Much like the first time she'd witnessed snow and watched it settle over her fur cloak. Even if something appeared to vanish, it must still be there right? She supposed she only had one way of knowing, and knowing it was a risk, a risk she normally would not have thought of. She dove forward grabbing the bag and hefting it up.

She turned pulling herself to her feet and threw the bag with all her might before she snatched up her bow and as quickly as she could drew an arrow. Her shot missed at her clumsy attempt to hurry, but just as she thought her attempt had failed another arrow pierced the bag causing it to burst in a glorious powder spray. Not quite like snow but good enough. She glanced in the direction the arrow had come from and gave a nod to the Elf on the other side, perhaps he'd caught on to what she was doing.

The flour settled over the ground, and outlined the invisible forms that darted here and there, their footprints leaving marks in the substance as she pulled free another arrow and pierced the skull of an invisible beast charging her. With their assailants now visible, the small fighting force located here was able to rally and more then just men's blood began to spill along the ancient stones.

As the numbers dwindled and eventfully the night became quite once more Lu sighed as her arms ached once more. More powder littered the area, she'd thrown 3 bags in the course of the fight as new monsters had seemed to wader into their area from were ever the main force was. She began retrieving her arrows, any that could be salvaged anyways. and as she picked up barrels and helped clean up the area she could just make out the faint sound of snoring coming from an overturned barrel on the other side of the collection of supply's and upon investigation she could only shake her head at the sleeping form of Jocko.

[SikstaSlathalin]

An hour or two passed after the attack before order was fully regained. They had lost a score of Endorans and a couple of the younger Wardens. As Zadkiel suspected the attack had come too quickly and taken out the sentry posts before they could raise the alarm. Now fully dressed in his clothes and armor. He was carrying a few scrolls of paper with names and words scratched out. He had called a meeting in the main dining hall of Rivendell the man was exhausted, but he knew none of them would be getting anymore sleep tonight. Plopping down in the chair at the head of the table he threw the scrolls down dropping his head into his hand while he waited for the other leaders to arrive.

Arawn clanked into the room. His blue eyes scanning the hall, as if looking for another darkspawn attack. He and the other Legionnaires had avoided much of the combat as the target had obviously been the Wardens. He moved to the table Zadkiel had claimed and slid into a chair. “Glad to see you survived.” He stated.

Zadkiel let out a short yawn nodding to Arawn. “Glad to see you’re still with us as well Arawn. Though it seems this Archdemon is smarter than the ones we’ve ever come across in Ferelden.” Looking into the dark the Grey Warden hoped Eli hadn’t fallen victim to the attacks.

Next to arrive was the equally distraught looking Keeper of the Dalish. “I am inclined to agree with you Constable Cousland. Many of my clan weren’t even aware of the attack until Warden Ataash sounded the alarm. How many did we lose?” He asked sitting stiffly down in the char next to Arawn.

“Not enough, whilst still being too many.” Grif stated with a mouthful of bread and jam. He entered from the kitchen and strolled to the table pushing through the maps locating the one of Rivendell. His finger then traced where the breach was and nodded. “They’ve obviously scouted the place. Though they chose poorly.” Grif took another bite of the bread he’d snatched.

"That they did, but the element of surprise did help them." Revion spoke up as he entered the room, brushing ash off his coat and nursing several cuts along his arms. One could smell burnt flesh lingering on him as he moved himself to the table, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"One of my mages had the brilliant idea of turning those things into a pyre. I will never eat pork again." Revion groused a moment to himself.

Nienor slipped in, talking quietly in Sindarin with her companion. The Elf paused as they entered, looking at the group with sad eyes. Whispering something, she slipped out, leaving the exhausted warrior alone. The fight hadn’t been as easy as she let on - she ended up with a nice new scar on her arm to remind her of it. Thankfully, it was simply made by a blade and was no different to any before it. That the Elves had confirmed. Sporting her white gauze wrap, she came to stand by the table, crossing her arms as she waited to hear what was discussed.

“I’d skip breakfast then.” Grif suggested after the Orlaisian finished muttering. The Qunari’s eyes taking in the Princess’ entrance. His finger moving through maps again. “So, now that we know the brain is aware of us we should up the pace. While we broke this spear, it likely has others not aimed at us.” The Qunari’s voice took on a serious note for a moment before his cheerful tone returned. “So... Anyone know any shortcuts?”


Nodding slowly Zadkiel listened to everyone's comments and waited for the murmurings to die down before starting the meeting. “According to the latest reports I could get we lost twenty Endorans and four of our younger Warden Mages. As I’m sure most of you gathered this attack was much more calculated. They moved right to where most of the Wardens were sleeping, slipping by even Wardens at full alert.” He pushed the scrolls deeper onto the table watching them slide over Grif’s maps. “We didn’t even lose that many supplies or sleeping Endorans which tells me this Archdemon is much more sentient than the Archdemons of the past. Usually supplies are destroyed as collateral damage as they close in on their first target and their blood lust would never let them ignore
easy prey to kill. But I saw tracks that show the Shriek actually hopping over supply crates and bypassing sleeping warriors without killing them. And that...is just unheard of...like they were being completely controlled by the Archdemon.”

Silence hung over the war table. In Ferelden Dragons, especially the High Dragons that are usually turned into Archdemon are far from being mindless beasts. But they could be called sub-sentient by most metrics even after becoming Archdemon. They are driven by the same basic desire to destroy everything that isn’t like them just as the dumbest Genlock at the bottom of the Darkspawn ranks is. But if a Dragon was already sentient and was given the powers of an Archdemon...they would truly be like the Old Gods from Tevinter legend.

The Keeper mimics Zadkiel’s grim face leaning back in his chair. “If this Archdemon has that kind of control over the Darkspawn would a shortcut even help us?”

"A short cut would be a miracle." Revion spoke, having listened to Zad quietly, having taken the time to think the events over. Learning that the Archdemon was potentially controlling the darkspawn, even to the point of targeting them directly, was horrifying. Taking a breath, Revion stood, feeling the need to pace to help settle the unease growing and to help give his musings thought.

"So, going by that logic, there are two things I can guess from that information. First being, that was either a test of our skill, or this Archdemon may not know of the warden's strengths. If the former, this was just the tip of the blade. If the latter, the Archdemon may just throw larger waves upon us." Revion began, placing a hand under his chin, his footfalls helping him think.

"The next question this brings up, with what we have seen of the Endorans of this land so far, how large of an army may he have. We have been on this land less than a night, and already he sends his darkspawn to try and kill us." Revion posed the question to the sitting group, looking towards the wardens around the table.

Grif started mocking the mage making talking motions with his hand as the mage went on and on. “If you’re scared go home. Let’s make this simple. When you know someone’s going to try and kill you you try first. And when that fails do you do the same thing over and over?” Before anyone can answer, Grif laughs. “Only if you want it to fail again. So I wouldn’t count on this being a nightly thing. And even if it was We.” Grif motioned to himself and Zad, “ ARE WARDENS. Facing waves of Darkspawn are what we do. Grow a pair, and remember your duty.”

“As far as we know we can still kill the archdemon whatever it can do right?” Grif asked, looking at Zad.

The Constable nodded in agreement with both Grif and Revion. Both men had valid points and considering both were basically the same rank in their Order civility wouldn’t be expected at least not yet. Still as they stopped talking he rubbed his eyes again. “You are both right, but this is a new land with new Darkspawn and a new Archdemon that is potentially smarter than anything we’ve come across so I believe it’s safe to say our usual tactics and plans could hurt us more than help us. While I don’t think there will be a nightly attacks, I do think it’ll keep testing us and our allies. We Wardens may have been the targets tonight, but next time it may learn that Wardens are forces to be reckoned with so it’ll go after our allies who are less likely to see them coming. And the next time after that it may decide to simply wipe out our entire army before we reach the Kingdom of Gondor and join the bulk of the Endoran armies.”

Thelhen sighed standing up and moving to the maps and charts spread across the table. A lifetime as a hunter must come in handy somewhere. Many of the maps were old, but from what he had gathered by talking with the Endoran Elves and reading their own writings the land itself doesn’t change much. “I don’t know the Archdemon’s plans, but looking at this map there are very few underground passages the Darkspawn could’ve come through undetected. Maybe someone saw where they came from? And maybe we can scout it out before it tests us again? Possibly even find out what new threats we may face while we move to Gondor?” He tried to keep his voice confident, but he wasn’t a hardened military vet like most of the people around this table.

“This is a drake of the olden days,” Nienor’s voice was soft, shoulders dipping a bit. She had feared as much. Part of her wanted to believe that the monster flying in the East day in and day out was whatever semi-sentient beast that the strangers mentioned, the Archdemon or whatever. But the more they spoke, the more she thought it was a creation of the first Dark Lord, a demon to rival Smaug or perhaps even Glaurung. The thought of it made her tremble on the inside - she had so wished to fight evil when she was a girl, picturing adventures to Lonely Mountain and Eboras but now….Coming closer to the map, she leaned on her palms, looking it over. The pain in her recent cut throbbed but she ignored it.

“We can follow the same path as the Fellowship,” she said, voice distant and talking to no one in particular. “From here, go through the Ruins of Moria and then through the woods. Rohan would welcome us as friends and from there…” her gaze traced the route she knew so well. From the Golden Hall to Minas Tirith and her men. To Beren…

"That sounds like a solid idea." Revion spoke, having moved closer as Neinor ran her hands over the map. The path seemed as good as any other, and the ruins would hopefully provide more cover for them instead of leaving themselves in the wide open for them to be picked off at the dragons leisure.

"Though a glut for knowledge, sending a party to scout them would cost us lives and times. We've lost men and women tonight, and who knows how many the Endorans lose as we speak. We should move to follow the route and meet up with the army awaiting our returns. Splitting even a small party would be ill-advised." Revion spoke to Thelhen, letting his eyes travel the maps.

"And no, I am not afraid of fighting the Darkspawn, Grif," Revion looked to the Qunari, hoping to stall out the barb that was sitting on his mind, "I just have enough self preservation to not rush balls first into enemy forces."

“No,” A gruff voice stated. “You just seem to be the only Warden who simply wants to sit and wait.” Arawn broke his silence. He had watched the discussion and listened to the various sides. “Lives and time will be spent whatever we do. There’s a reason we of the Legion are already dead.”

He crossed his arms and took in the eyes turning to him. “We know little to nothing about the land or what we face. The Legion will stand against the Darkspawn wherever and in any form; And whatever we learn we will happily share.” Arawn turned to the princess. “The Legion will march on, will you provide us with the best route?”

“There are no best routes, Master dwarf,” Nienor smiled wryly, “only more convenient ways not to die. If these...darkspawn….travel by tunnels, braving Moria may be as dangerous as trying to climb the summits or spend precious days going around the mountain shain. Perhaps more so. Not to mention whatever old evil may still lurk in those caves.”

“The Dead do not fear death Princess.” Arawn stated, “So our request stands.”

Nienor shrugged.It was not as though she wasn’t willing to risk everything to make it to Gondor with all possible speed. “As you desire.”

“Hold it everyone, before we go rushing off to some glorious final battle let’s decide on a course of action for the rest of the Blight first.” Standing up Zadkiel moved to the maps looking over the other’s shoulders for a few seconds before movin on pacing like Revion had been doing. “Once again everyone has some good points. We should gather whatever intel we can on the new Darkspawn and maybe even on the new Archdemon. But I will not be sending a large detachment on any scouting mission anywhere, the more boots we got in the underground the easier it will be for new threats to find us. No more than six will go and they would need to be the best of us, because once we leave Rivendell.” He stopped, looking around at his comrades as if making a list of who would be selected if they move forward with the idea. “I have a feeling communication will be extraordinarily difficult and if the Scouts get in trouble they may be on their own until the rest of us reach Gondor and can send a rescue party. And we would need a guide for this Moria, if I remember the Tale of the One Ring that Laurnaus told me on the crossing. It takes someone who has been through the old mines to find a safe passage. And on top of Darkspawn wild Orcs and Goblins roam those halls as well.” Standing at the end of the table he leaned on the end and planted his hands on the smooth stone surface still studying the faces of the leaders around him. “We could also save any scouting until we reach Gondor, but by then it might be too late. Now without taking jabs at each other’s courage or resolve what do you all think? Send six of our people into the caves at first light or stay together and double time our forces to Gondor?”

“Why not both?” Grif asked. “If the route to Gondor is clearly defined then it’ll be hard to miss an army on that trail. And six can move faster than an army.” He shrugged. It made sense to him as both unexpected and the best of both worlds. “Do you have a six in mind?”

Zadkiel smirked at the Qunari. “Well no matter what the bulk of our forces will press on to Gondor, and if we decide against sending six at all then we’ll be leaving at first light. But while I do have six in mind, I’m not about to send anyone unwilling into what could be a suicide mission, so this vote will help decide all that. Now what say the rest of you?”

"While I don't think this is a good plan to split our group, it's the sanest. Just the possible knowledge is worth the risk if it helps turn the impossible into improbable. I have a few mages who might be willing to enter the tunnels. Both are experienced in close range and focused magic." Revion spoke with a calm voice, giving voice to his concerns to the group.

The rest of the group were either undecided or too tired to answer so after setting two Veteran wardens at each sentry post. Dawn would come with answers and plans for the future of this motley army.

[Koti~]

REVION AND AZOCA

The man looked over his people, studying the men around him preparing. He had already addressed them of the plan moving forward, urging patience and promptness to prepare. He had already called up the people he would plan to send into the tunnels, noting both their pale faces, yet determined eyes. He promised them when it was all said and done, they would either return home as hero’s, or buried on familial lands to the best of his skill. They knew the risks, and yet they would rise to the occasion. The meeting still stung deep to him, aggravated at being called out by the others as he had been. He knew the drive of the wardens and even the dead legion, so did they expect the same of him? They were all madmen with a sword. To rush forward with no plans to even survive or learn of their enemies was just insanity. IT was nothing he would say outright to them all, not for lack of confidence. They were right with their desire-

“Sir Revion?” A voice drew out his attention, looking to his side at the young mage. A grimace barely passed across his face as he spied Azoca, the memories of burnt flesh returning to him.

“Sorry for barging in, but I heard you plan to send a party into the tunnels. I was wondering-”

“No. You will be remaining with the main forces as we make our journey. I already know who is going into the tunnels for that plan.” Revion waved the young man off, returning his gaze out wards to the prep work happening in front of him.

“Sir! I know that I am not as skilled as the others, but I know I can prove!” Azoca began, calling up as much indignant rage that he would at his superior officer. Revion turned to look at the young mage and let out a deep sigh.

“You are trying my limited patience and sleep. I know you have promise and skill, which is why you will be staying with us. You are not suited for fighting in tight spaces.” Revion spoke, giving the young mage a deep stare. Azoca gave a stare in return, feeling reluctant to turn away, hoping to will the man to change his mind. He wanted to do whatever it would take to join the tunnel party, to do whatever it would take to prove he was the best choice to join the party.

His glares got him nowhere before bowing with a short ‘yes sir’ and headed to continue his preparation. Revion had gotten onto him about his lack of forethought in the ambush. He had thought he had done rather well with fighting the group that had attacked, but the elder mage had belittled him over setting the enemy in flames. If not for him forcibly bottlenecking them, his flames would have done nothing but sent flaming enemies against them. He had hoped that he would be able to prove that he was skilled when it came to fighting, by proving his worth within the tunnels of the enemies, but Revion was right. Azoca was more skilled in long range bombardment and fighting, and even he knew that thin tunnels would not allow his fighting to work to the best. Despite that, he had wanted to prove himself and go above and beyond. With a sigh, he moved to finish the rest of his prep work, which was just the minimal stuff. He would not argue with Revion on this, at least not with how tired he felt under the desire to move and prove himself. Killing the darkspawn thankfully was not as draining as their fight against the orcs like before.

Was he already becoming numb to killing people, or was it just the darkspawn that he held little care for.

FEN

Da’lenfen gave a sigh, shuffling the last of the dead corpses off the main grounds. He knew the other wardens were already discussing their plans for moving forward. Fen had fought his fair share of the spawns, having used the shadows to fight the groups. It was a tight fight, and he had gotten a few wounds during the fighting that he had already attended to. Rumor had already spread that a party would be sent into tunnels that the Darkspawn had used. He wanted to follow them down, hunt down the creatures and kill them at the heart. The desire to kill the bastard things was strong, and knowing a small group would be sent in to fight these bastard demons, he wanted in.

Fen made his way through the milling people, some trying to find a few moments of sleep, others helping sort out the jumbled mess of bodies to be buried, and even more just existing from the horrid attack. He knew the feeling well, the sudden dawning comprehension of death lurking in every shadow, even your own. It was both a comfortable knowledge, and a frightening truth to grapple with. Fen shook his head though, brushing the thoughts aside before finally making his way over to his planned target.

“Sir Zad, I have heard plans to enter the tunnels with a small party. If you haven’t already chosen people, I would offer my services to hunt for them. I can move silently more than others, and my wolf form would be great for tracking into the tight spaces underground.” Zad spoke, waiting to see how the leader would respond.