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

[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.