Welcome Guest. Please Login or Register. May 25, 2013, 8:25pm
The nutritional adequacy of plant-based diets
Dragon Age: Warden's Vigil is a Dragon Age: Origins based roleplaying community within the world of Thedas.
Our timeline is set approximately three years after the Fifth Blight and the events that happened in Dragon Age: Origins.
Keep in mind that all members are expected to RP, and also please note that this forum contains spoilers about Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age 2!
Please visit our information For New Players, linked in the Site Links portion below. Any questions or concerns may be directed towards the staff!
The Ill-Starred Life « Thread Started on Mar 15, 2012, 4:54pm »
[Cloudreach 14, Evening, just off the road south of Highever]
“Not wholly starless is the ill-starred life, Not all is night in failure, and the shield Sometimes well grasped, tho' shattered in the strife.”
Tho' Lack of Laurels and of Wreaths Not One Trumbull Stickney
Cauthrien crouched beside the fire, patiently feeding larger twigs into the tiny but growing flames that had caught in the carefully piled tinder. Twilight was well advanced, stars already twinkling in the purple velvet of the eastern sky, while the west was a fiery display of red and orange chasing the last edge of the sun below the horizon. A beautiful sight, for one of a mind to appreciate it, but Cauthrien had only seen an evening clear enough for more walking and kept traveling well past the time that she normally would have stopped to make camp.
It had been well into the afternoon when she had parted company with Nathaniel at Sarim's Luck. She could have gotten a room there, stayed the night and set out at first light, but having made her decision, she'd felt a strong urge to put Highever behind her as soon as possible. The past that it represented was something that she could never reclaim; she could only move forward now, and she had no desire to stay and encounter anyone else for whom her presence would be a reminder of past pains and betrayals.
Iain's voice. “The King pardoned you for a reason... You say you want to atone your action. Then do it.”
And Aedan Cousland's. "It's not about you. It's about Ferelden. What's best for the country. What you—what we—do now to fix things."
Each man had been right. She still did not know if this path was truly the one that she sought; she had thought that serving Arl Teagan would be a proper atonement, only to run headlong into a wall. It might be that she encountered similar obstacles that would keep her from joining the Grey Wardens, but until she did, she would proceed to Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep. And if it was not for her...she would keep seeking. Going to sea had been a passing fancy given strength by despair. She would make a passable sailor, but she was already a damn good warrior and soldier, and it was in this capacity that she could best serve Ferelden.
With the kindling burning well, she began arranging larger branches gathered from sheltered areas at the bases of trees, protected from the wetness of the snowmelt and spring showers. As the flames licked hungrily around the fuel and old sap began to pop beneath the bark, she turned to the business of setting up the rest of camp. Her seabag was no longer half empty; most of her remaining coin had been used to purchase basic provisions for the six-day walk. Unfolding an oilcloth tarp, she strung a length of rope taut between two trees at waist height, securing one end of the tarp to the rope and staking down the free end to create a small lean-to with the open end close to the fire. The night promised to be clear, but there would likely be dew in the morning, or perhaps even frost. She was out of sight of the road, but close enough that the light of the fire would be visible to anyone traveling by night; she planned to bank it before she went to sleep, but the slope of the lean-to would catch some of the heat radiated by the coals, providing warmth for part of the night, at least.
Unrolling her blankets beneath the lean-to, she pulled out the sacks of dried meat and fruit and settled back beside the fire. She had hooks and line, if she chanced upon a stream on the way, but simple fare would do for tonight.
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #1 on Mar 16, 2012, 3:37pm »
Wrenna winkled her nose a little as she took measure of how much light there was left. Not much, to say the least, and she had to make a decision.
The hunter had left Highever on very good terms. She's managed a few odd menial jobs that put some coin in her pocket and travel goods in her pack. Lady Evelyn and Ser Iain -- folks far too kind to a near stranger -- offered to let her stay longer at their place, but she politely declined. Once she heard they would soon be off to Edgewater she decided to get out of their hair so they could set their affairs in order.
There was also the matter of there being just too many people in Highever for the Teyrn's wedding. One would think that with more people around she's stand a better chance at finding one of her siblings. Turned out to be the opposite. With so many people to talk to it became difficult to figure where to start and who to talk to. After a few dismissive replies Wrenna gave up trying.
City dwellers. Damn rude bunch sometimes.
She said her goodbyes, promising to look Ser Andrew, Lady Evelyn, and Ser Iain up if she ever came through Highever or Edgewater again, then set out for Amaranthine.
It wasn't as if she's not traveled on the roads by herself before. She'd done so rather often, but the single traveler had to play it differently. Safe travel on the roads by night might have sounded like backward thinking, but for Wrenna doing so was the wiser course. She could quietly pad the roads and pass the detection of sleepy-eyed highwaymen. The most she'd have to worry about would be a night critter brave enough to come close to a human traveled path.
Now she had to make that last minute decision; keep to the road well into the night and sleep by day or break camp now then hit the road at dawn. While she hadn't heard much from folks in town about road troubles it wouldn't take much to guess that the increased number of travelers into and out of Highever would naturally mean more bandits laying in wait.
She was just about to come quickly to the choice of traveling by night when the faint smell of smoke and a flicker of light through the trees caught her attention. It wasn't too far off the road, but it was still obscured enough that she couldn't tell what it fully was. The flicker was likely from a campfire of some sort. If not then the woods had somehow mysteriously caught on fire and it would be her partial duty to stomp it out before the forest would become an inferno. Burning due to a lightening strike or severely dry grass was one thing, burning due to a careless hand was another.
As she turned slightly and started heading for the light, a voice in the back of her head warned that the campfire could have been made by a bandit. That's when she softened her step, trained her eyes on the area about the fire, and kept herself partially hid behind one tree or another.
Now closer, she could make out one solitary figure sitting under a lean-to. There didn't seem to be any others around and the camp seem set for only one person. A tree closer and she was getting the sense that this person -- a woman from the look of it -- was a traveler herself.
Wrenna weighed her options. After a while she suppressed a snort as the scale tipper turned out to be the fact she wouldn't mind some company on the road. Hopefully who ever this woman was wouldn't mind it and was heading the same direction she was. There was only one way to find out about that.
She purposefully made some noise with her feet, shuffling leaves, and came forward with her hands open, palms toward the lady. Stopping a fair distance away, she kept herself in full view.
"Ho there, at the camp," she called out, her Bannorn drawl only lightly touching her accent. "A word with you if you don't mind? I'm meanin' no harm."
Again she found it funny that anyone would find her threatening at all, but might as well say it and put a person's mind at ease.
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #2 on Mar 17, 2012, 8:09pm »
The sound of feet shuffling in the leaves close to her camp – too close – had Cauthrien's right hand dropping to the hilt of the sword that lay beside her, but she paused when a single woman stepped into view, carefully displaying her empty hands. The firelight flickered upon what seemed at first glance to be a mask, but closer inspection revealed that it only covered half her face.
"Ho there, at the camp. A word with you if you don't mind? I'm meanin' no harm."
Almost Cauthrien could take her for a dwarf...but only almost. She had the short, stocky build, but the facial features – at least those of the visible half – spoke of human blood, a faint scar at the corner of her mouth suggesting a possible reason for the half-mask. And Cauthrien had never met a dwarf who could move quietly in the forest; the noise that had alerted her had been deliberate, she was certain. It was that more than anything that decided her.
“I suspect that if you were, I wouldn't have heard anything,” she replied calmly, allowing her hand to fall away from the sword, though not so far away that she could not have it in play within seconds. No sign of any companions, no hint of movement in the trees. Not that it guaranteed that there were none there, but again, if they were that stealthy, they could have taken her down with no warning at all.
“There's room enough by the fire, if you're in need of rest,” she told the newcomer, motioning for her to approach, watching as she did, taking note of the shortbow on her back, the archer's gloves and vambraces, the simple economy of her movements. “Are you bound for Highever?” She'd seen no shortage of folk on the road bound for the teyrnir, with the wedding set for the morrow, but she had encountered no one else traveling in the opposite direction.
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #3 on Mar 20, 2012, 6:07pm »
She was immediately alert, hand upon the blade next to her.
“I suspect that if you were, I wouldn't have heard anything.”
Wrenna bobbed her head once slowly. It was both an acknowledgement and an apology for the action. Last thing she wanted to do right now was piss off the armored woman with a sword that could probably cut Wrenna in two. Luckily, she was reasonable, if still a shade wary.
“There's room enough by the fire, if you're in need of rest.”
And apparently was not unfriendly, thank the Maker.
She lowered her hands, getting nearer the fire and opposite side of it from her, "Don't mind if I do. Thank you kindly."
As she squatted down to move a twig and a couple of rocks away from where she was going to plant her rear, she got a better look. The armor and weapon were maintained well enough so she got to suspecting that she was a mercenary of some sort. Probably on her way in to Highever to see if the increased number of folks there meant more work for one of her kind.
“Are you bound for Highever?”
Wrenna shook her head, removing her bow as she sat, placing it in her lap. Even if the woman across from her might not be heading her way, it wouldn't hurt to get some information on what the road heading out was going to be like. A little chat, then she'd be on her way.
"Just came from there," she drew her legs up a little and put her hands out to the fire to warm them. "I'm headin' myself in the other direction. Eastbound. Wouldn'ta happen to hear anything about the road between here and Amaranthine, have you?"
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #4 on Mar 23, 2012, 3:57pm »
"Don't mind if I do. Thank you kindly."
The woman approached the fire carefully, not rushing and keeping her hands in view even after she lowered them, but her movements spoke of a calm deliberation, rather than nervousness. She was aware of the risks of antagonizing an armed and armored stranger, but not fearful. Cauthrien allowed her guard to relax a bit further, though she kept an ear turned to the deepening night for any hint of someone attempting to come in behind while she was distracted.
The newcomer crouched briefly on the opposite side of the fire, clearing a spot to sit, then settling in and shifting her bow from her back to her lap.
"Just came from there," she answered in response to the query about her destination, holding her hands out to the fire's warmth. "I'm headin' myself in the other direction. Eastbound. Wouldn'ta happen to hear anything about the road between here and Amaranthine, have you?"
A choice, then. Say nothing about her own destination, sleep in a bit in the morning to give the other woman a head start and continue to travel alone, or speak up and find out if she was interested in a traveling companion. Two made more sense than one, but once the woman found out who she was...
Cauthrien gave a mental shrug. Either the woman recognized her name, or she didn't. If she did, either she accepted her company or she didn't. There was the third possibility: that she might find herself facing someone who had lost a loved one at Ostagar, but in close quarters, she would have the advantage if it came to fighting. Besides that, the woman didn't strike her as the type to act rashly. She might even prefer traveling alone.
Nothing ventured... “I haven't heard anything, but I'm bound for Amaranthine myself,” she said, pausing briefly before adding, “Cauthrien MacLean,” leaving it to the stranger whether or not to extend their acquaintance beyond this chance encounter.
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #5 on Mar 26, 2012, 12:28pm »
There was a pause in thought. Either the woman was considering her question or deciding something else. Wrenna couldn't tell, but since she wasn't in any great hurry she just concentrated on warming her fingertips.
“I haven't heard anything, but I'm bound for Amaranthine myself,” the woman finally said.
So she wasn't heading to Highever. Well that--
“Cauthrien MacLean.”
Wrenna blinked once.
The name rung a bell in her head and the sound echoed back and forth in the space between her ears until it finally hit something. There was one Cauthrien she knew of. One Ser Cauthrien that was spoken enough in Gwaren that the name stuck in Wrenna's head. The only thing connected to it were grumblings from folks, mostly paired with equal grumblings about Teyrn Loghain.
Some of it was good, some of it was bad, but when she got right down to it, there wasn't much for Wrenna to fuss about. Lots of things happened during the Blight and the Civil War. Lots bad, some good, but that was then. Unless the woman was going around right now doing unkind deeds, then it was no skin off Wrenna's nose.
Besides that, there was a look the woman had in her eye that said wrong doing wasn't on her agenda. Though her solitary state on the road made sense to her now.
The hunter bobbed her head once, "Wrenna Hammond."
A small grin was quirked, "I think we might be the only two folk in Ferelden not heading to Highever right now. Lass can hardly find space to walk around there without bumpin' shoulders."
"What you think the road might look like? All these travelers, ripe pickin's for highwaymen I'm thinkin'," she motioned a hand to Cauthrien's sword. "Though I reckon you can handle a bandit 'r two easy enough."
The question was leading, she knew, but she wasn't about to just throw herself in with suggesting about traveling together. Known name or no, they were both still strangers to one another.
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #6 on Mar 30, 2012, 5:35pm »
A brief flicker of something that might have been recognition in the woman's eyes when she gave her name, but her expression remained impassive.
“Wrenna Hammond,” she offered, her tone as matter-of-fact as it had been, adding, with a hint of a smile, "I think we might be the only two folk in Ferelden not heading to Highever right now. Lass can hardly find space to walk around there without bumpin' shoulders."
Cauthrien felt the tension that was almost always coiled along her spine these days ease up a bit, and she allowed herself a chuckle. “It is a bit crowded at the moment,” she agreed. “Too many people in one place for my tastes.” Between the need to keep a watchful eye out for anyone who might try to get revenge and the simple homesickness that arose when she found herself evaluating the guard patrols, picking out points of vulnerability in the security, musing over contingency plans for one incident or another, being on the road had been a relief.
"What you think the road might look like?” Wrenna asked. “All these travelers, ripe pickin's for highwaymen I'm thinkin'." She gestured at the sword that lay beside the warrior. "Though I reckon you can handle a bandit 'r two easy enough."
Cauthrien nodded. “I can hold my own,” she replied simply, “And I think you're right about bandits, though I didn't hear of any in Highever. The smart ones will wait and pick folk off as they are returning to wherever they came from.” And the smart ones would be the dangerous ones. “Two sets of eyes would likely be better than one,” she suggested, deciding to take the other's comment as an expression of interest.
She held out the sacks of dried meat and apples. “I've enough to share, if you're hungry,” she said. “I've got hooks and line, but no water to try them in at the moment.” The archer could likely provide her own meat, but Cauthrien wanted her to know that she could offer something besides her blade on the journey.
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #7 on Apr 10, 2012, 4:22pm »
So far the woman was being amiable. She felt likewise about Highever being just a shade too crowded. Cauthrien also nodded her admittance that the sword definitely wasn't just for show, something Wrenna didn't doubt.
“And I think you're right about bandits, though I didn't hear of any in Highever. The smart ones will wait and pick folk off as they are returning to wherever they came from.” Wrenna nodded her head slowly in agreement as Cauthrien paused for a breath. “Two sets of eyes would likely be better than one.”
Something had to be said for those moments when things were nice and simple. Wrenna liked things simple. Not that she hadn't been in complicated situations before -- Maker bless it but she certainly had -- and was not able to handle it. It was just that sometimes in life things didn't need to be complicated. Things could go in a straight line, and she preferred it that way.
Wrenna kept her smile and nodded one more time, "I don't mind being those second set of eyes if you don't."
Cauthrien then held out a sack, “I've enough to share, if you're hungry. I've got hooks and line, but no water to try them in at the moment.”
"Don't think there will be much need for fishin' along the way," she said while removing the bow from her lap again, "but if it means resting our feet for a bit then by all means, try away."
She reached over and took the sack, plucking out an apple from it before handing it back. Wrenna wasn't hungry, but breaking bread was a step in showing trust. That and all she had in the way of fruit was some dried berries. A fresh apple would do some good.
After a bite and propping her bow against a tree, she spoke before finishing chewing, "Take it we're away in the mornin'? I did have notions of travelin' by dark, but that was before 'me' became 'we'."
Even before Wrenna got her expected answer, she started removing some of her gear. Slightly hampered with one of her hands occupied with the apple, it was slow going. Not that Wrenna minded. Now that she wasn't in any rush to get a move on the road she was getting herself to settle down.
"So you headed to Amaranthine for any particular reason," she tossed the question out there idly. More for something to talk about rather than for curiosity. "Or is it just a direction to head off into?"
. . . but she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't just a shade curious as to what the Ser Cauthrien of Maric's Shield was up to.
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #8 on Apr 14, 2012, 10:32am »
"I don't mind being those second set of eyes if you don't." The faint smile on Wrenna's lips made the scar at the corner of her mouth more pronounced, but apart from the mask, she displayed no self-consciousness, comfortable in her own skin in a way that Cauthrien recognized. The woman was a veteran – if not of war and military service, then of some other sort of battle; she had survived and gained not only strength, but a knowledge of herself that few were fortunate enough to obtain. Maker knew that Cauthrien had not found it yet, but she'd seen it in others...in him, before he had changed...before everything had changed.
“Your company would be welcome,” she said, and meant it.
"Don't think there will be much need for fishin' along the way," she said in response to Cauthrien's mention of hook and line, "but if it means resting our feet for a bit then by all means, try away."
Cauthrien chuckled. “That's part of the reason for fishing, isn't it?” In her youth, sitting by a stream or pond with a cane pole in her hand had been a way that she could spend time alone, in peace, while still providing for her family. Conal MacLean had never tolerated idleness, but as long as she returned with a string of fish, he had allowed her that pastime.
Her new companion accepted the offered bag, selected an apple, then passed the bag back, leaning her bow against a tree. "Take it we're away in the mornin'?” she asked as she took a bite of the apple. “I did have notions of travelin' by dark, but that was before 'me' became 'we'."
Cauthrien nodded, pulling a strip of dried beef out and tucking the bag away, watching Wrenna begin to remove her pack, her quiver, one hand still holding the apple, her movements practiced and unhurried despite the handicap.
“My night eyes aren't bad, but I prefer to move by day,” she confirmed. “I'm usually awake before dawn and on the road by sunrise.” She would not object to adjusting that schedule, though she would likely still be awake at her usual time; a decade and a half of habit was not easily broken.
"So you headed to Amaranthine for any particular reason," Wrenna asked as she continued to settle into her chosen spot. "Or is it just a direction to head off into?"
“I have business with the Grey Wardens,” Cauthrien replied, then winced internally. Maker, but that sounded pretentious, didn't it? She had no talent even for half-truths, it seemed. “Actually, I'm to join them,” she admitted with an awkward shrug. “Or attempt to, anyway.” She was still more than half certain that she would arrive to find that Nathaniel had changed his mind, or that Aedan Cousland or the King had stepped in and forbidden it. They had refused to consider Loghain, after all, and he would have been a far more valuable addition to the Wardens than she. “And you?”
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #9 on Apr 18, 2012, 5:31pm »
Cauthrien wanted to be off by dawn and Wrenna nodded her head, agreeing with that. As to her not-really-trying-to-prod-too-hard question . . .
“I have business with the Grey Wardens.”
While Wrenna had other ideas, her eyebrow couldn't help but react. It arched quite a bit as she looked over at Cauthrien, her actions slowing a tad to consider the words. Was she meaning 'business' as in actual genuine business or 'business' as in 'matters are unsettled and she planned to see to some payback' business? She was really hoping it was the former because she wasn't looking for any trouble. Wrenna didn't want to be suddenly known as the woman who came along with the ex-Gwaren Knight bent on revenge against the Grey Wardens.
"Oh . . . ?" Wrenna really did try to keep her voice nice and neutral, but damn it all if there wasn't a shade of worry there.
“Actually, I'm to join them,” Cauthrien's shoulders raised and lowered in an unsure manner. “Or attempt to, anyway.”
That sent Wrenna's mind to whirling in circles. Her worry about the woman heading to Amaranthine to shed the blood of a few Wardens was apparently misplaced, thank the Maker, but now . . .
“And you?”
The question made her mind break free of the mound of questions that was piling up in it. Wrenna supposed they could wait for a little bit, especially since she needed to sort it all out in her head. Most of her gear was now shed and she took a moment to pause and gnaw at the apple.
"Lookin' f' family," she said before really finishing chewing. After swallowing she continued,"Lost track of some of my kin during the Blight. Found some of 'em, but I think I can find more."
She motioned her head in the direction of Highever, "Figured port towns would be good ta try, but Highever's a full haystack and I like my needle findin' to be a shade easier. So it's off to Amaranthine I go for now."
Wrenna squatted down to start separating her sleeping roll from her pack, but not before tossing another question in Cauthrien's direction.
"Grey Wardens, huh? Most I know rather not see another darkspawn if they can help it, but you want to keep findin' and fightin' 'em? That's mighty brave of ya."
It was the most simple thing Wrenna could think to say at this point without getting into the whole business of retribution and revenge. The hunter knew those subjects a little bit too well. Wrenna clenched the apple in her teeth to free up both hands so she could untie, unravel, and flatten out the bed roll.
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #10 on Apr 19, 2012, 7:12pm »
"Oh . . . ?"
Cauthrien did not miss the faint flicker of apprehension on Wrenna's face when she said that she had business with the Wardens, or the smoothing of her features when she clarified her intent. She hadn't wished the Wardens ill since well before the end of the Blight, but she supposed that there was no shortage of people who might believe otherwise.
"Lookin' f' family," Wrenna said through a mouthful of apple in response to Cauthrien's question about her own reasons for traveling to Amaranthine. "Lost track of some of my kin during the Blight. Found some of 'em, but I think I can find more."
"Figured port towns would be good ta try, but Highever's a full haystack and I like my needle findin' to be a shade easier. So it's off to Amaranthine I go for now."
Cauthrien nodded. “I hope you find them,” she offered quietly. She hadn't seen her family since she had left with Loghain, hadn't ever been tempted to return, but she did wonder sometimes what had become of her sisters. She had heard that Meghan had been wed to Ewan Brodie at the age of fifteen: the fate that their father had initially intended for Cauthrien. Beyond that, nothing. She didn't know if any of them had survived the Blight.
Wrenna crouched to liberate her sleeping roll from her pack. "Grey Wardens, huh?” she tossed over her shoulder. “Most I know rather not see another darkspawn if they can help it, but you want to keep findin' and fightin' 'em? That's mighty brave of ya."
“Brave doesn't have much to do with it,” Cauthrien replied with a shrug, watching the other woman lay out her bedroll with the apple clenched unselfconsciously in her teeth. “I'm a soldier. Fighting is all I know, so I might as well go where the fighting is.”
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #11 on Apr 20, 2012, 1:53pm »
“Brave doesn't have much to do with it,” the words came with another shrug. “I'm a soldier. Fighting is all I know, so I might as well go where the fighting is.”
"Hur," was all Wrenna was able to grunt out at first, the apple in her mouth preventing any sort of words from forming. She took a moment to gather her thoughts and remove an offending stone from under her bedroll.
It would be crushing to be part of something that was once considered grand and be part of it no more. Wrenna had only ever heard tales from her grandfather of Maric's Shield, but her grandfather had a habit of embellishing the story. The most elite of Ferelden's fighters, protecting the King and country. The stories were more meant for the boys so she never did quite remember all that was said. It didn't involve any romance so -- in her youthful foolishness -- she rolled her eyes at most of it.
Her mind went briefly to the grumbled words of strangers she heard back in Gwaren. They were part bitterness, part blame, part defensiveness. Teyrn Loghain's death also included the end of Maric's Shield and a lot of pride went with it. How does a soldier who used to be part of something like that move on?
Wrenna dusted her rear off with a hand, then plopped herself down to sit on the bedroll. Dislodging the apple from her teeth, she swallowed the juices, then motioned at Cauthrien with the fruit.
"Brave still. I know what it's like fightin' 'em and don't aim to again," she took a smaller bite from the apple before continuing. "And really, anyone with enough of a nose for it can find themselves a fight. Flames, just head down to Gwaren 'n tell a logger that his wife smells like a fisherman. That'll get you a fight started quick enough."
She snorted at her own joke, though she wondered if bringing up Gwaren was such a wise idea.
"I'm guessin' that's not the kind of fight you're lookin' for, though," she said with a little more seriousness. "Lots of mercenary sorts wanderin' around these days who used to be part of this Bann's army or that Bann's army. I take it you've tried the route of pokin' your nose at a Chanter's board? Nothin' really suit your fancy there?"
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #12 on Apr 23, 2012, 7:38pm »
"Brave still,” Wrenna disagreed with her, settling back onto her bedroll and gesturing toward Cauthrien with the half eaten apple. “I know what it's like fightin' 'em and don't aim to again. And really, anyone with enough of a nose for it can find themselves a fight. Flames, just head down to Gwaren 'n tell a logger that his wife smells like a fisherman. That'll get you a fight started quick enough."
Cauthrien had to smile at that. “I remember that well enough. I spent more than my share of time dragging soldiers who couldn't keep their mouths shut out of fights with angry loggers. And fishermen.” Pour a few pints of ale in some fools, and they thought they could take on the world. It had seemed an onerous duty then, but compared to what had come later, it was enough to provoke a tickle of nostalgia.
"I'm guessin' that's not the kind of fight you're lookin' for, though," she went on before Cauthrien could say pretty much that. "Lots of mercenary sorts wanderin' around these days who used to be part of this Bann's army or that Bann's army. I take it you've tried the route of pokin' your nose at a Chanter's board? Nothin' really suit your fancy there?”
No fool, this one, but then, what else would she be expected to do in the months since the Blight? “I tried it,” she admitted. “Some companies were good, some...not so good.” She wrinkled her nose slightly, deciding that it was unnecessary to add the obvious: some were bastards. Wrenna struck her as one who would know that. “I could have made a decent living at it, but,” she paused, dropping her gaze to the fire, “it wasn't the same.”
The same questions hovered, eluding easy answer: did she have any right to seek, or even expect, something even close to what she had destroyed? But if not, if she avoided any causes that were worthwhile and honorable, could there be any chance of atonement?
“You're from Gwaren, are you?” she asked, lifting her eyes back to her new companion. She thought she could recognize the dialect now.
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #13 on Apr 25, 2012, 4:25pm »
“I tried it,” she said. “Some companies were good, some...not so good.”
There was a slight crinkling of Cauthrien's nose, a sign of distaste, and Wrenna snorted at the apparent understatement. Briefly, she thought of a dwarf with a penchant for explosives, a blond haired fellow with a pet weasel, a fellow hunter with a wolf for a friend, and a shape changing apostate who had an odd fixation on her chest. While she didn't consider any of them to be "not so good", there were moments with each where some head butting certainly occurred.
“I could have made a decent living at it, but,” her eyes lowered, a despondent look touching her features,“it wasn't the same.”
Wrenna said nothing in reply and silently chewed on the apple while examining the woman more steadily. She was apparently right about why she was out here by herself, but maybe wrong about it being by choice. Cauthrien was apparently doing what a lot of folks have had to do in Ferelden; find a path in life after the Blight. While Wrenna might not have known what being in an army was like, she knew what feeling lost could feel like. In that, she could sympathize.
“You're from Gwaren, are you?” Cauthrien asked as she looked back up at Wrenna. It wasn't a complete change in subject, but Wrenna wasn't going to press further on the matter.
Swallowing, she shook her head, "Not from there, but I spent most my time after the Blight around Gwaren. I'm from the Bannorn, really. Round about Lothering, closer to a place called Lostwhithiel. That's where my family 'n homestead used to be."
She was tempted to ask if Ser Cauthrien was familiar with Lostwhithiel, but another part of her didn't want to know if she was familiar with the Bann there, old or new. Any line of questioning following that could get . . . uncomfortable.
"As for Gwaren, well . . . " Wrenna paused to try and recall her reasons back then that didn't simply involve running from her past. She examined the apple for a moment, then thought to ask a question instead. "Y'ever have to head into the forests to hunt or patrol there, Miss Cauthrien?"
Re: The Ill-Starred Life « Reply #14 on Apr 28, 2012, 9:01am »
The woman's steady gaze might have made Cauthrien uncomfortable, had there been a trace of judgment, or even the gawking curiosity that so many displayed around her. Even when they didn't ask openly, she could all but hear the questions rattling around in their heads. Had she really slept with Loghain? Had she slept with Cailan? Had she conspired with Loghain to kill Cailan? Had she betrayed him at the end to save her own hide, or to get revenge for the murder of her lover? It was not so much the questions themselves that made her uncomfortable, but the morbid glee that so often accompanied them, the way that some seemed to relish the idea of the Hero of River Dane tumbling from hero to tyrant, killing a king in the process, as though the whole sorry spectacle was nothing more than a play staged for their entertainment.
Wrenna's blue eyes were thoughtful, but whatever those thoughts might be, her expression indicated that they did not involve wondering who had bedded whom. She chewed at a mouthful of apple, swallowed. "Not from there, but I spent most my time after the Blight around Gwaren. I'm from the Bannorn, really. Round about Lothering, closer to a place called Lostwhithiel. That's where my family 'n homestead used to be."
Cauthrien nodded. “I've heard of it. It's known for its wines, isn't it?”
Wrenna went on. "As for Gwaren, well . . . " She paused, seeming suddenly reticent, studying the half eaten apple in her hand as though it might contain answers. "Y'ever have to head into the forests to hunt or patrol there, Miss Cauthrien?"
Miss Cauthrien. The warrior felt her lips twitch slightly. That was a new one, and as ill suited to her as 'Lady'. “Just Cauthrien is fine,” she responded with a slight smile to show that she'd not taken offense. “And yes, I did that a few times when I served in Gwaren.” She paused, considering. The area immediately outside the town was one thing, but once the Brecilian Forest took over, it became another prospect entirely. You could see nothing at all, or find yourself battling something that seemed to have escaped from the Void. Spirits walked beneath those trees, and not all of them were benign. “Not a place for the faint of heart,” she concluded, regarding her companion with a new interest. “You've been there?”
![[Home]](http://i900.photobucket.com/albums/ac207/wardensvigil/Welcome%20Menu%20Buttons/home.png "[Home]")
![[New Topics]](http://i900.photobucket.com/albums/ac207/wardensvigil/Welcome%20Menu%20Buttons/newtopics.png "[New Topics]")
![[Help]](http://i900.photobucket.com/albums/ac207/wardensvigil/Welcome%20Menu%20Buttons/help.png "[Help]")
![[Search]](http://i900.photobucket.com/albums/ac207/wardensvigil/Welcome%20Menu%20Buttons/search.png "[Search]")
![[Login]](http://i900.photobucket.com/albums/ac207/wardensvigil/Welcome%20Menu%20Buttons/login.png "[Login]")
![[Register]](http://i900.photobucket.com/albums/ac207/wardensvigil/Welcome%20Menu%20Buttons/register.png "[Register]")
![[Search This Thread]](http://i900.photobucket.com/albums/ac207/wardensvigil/Buttons/search2.png "[Search This Thread]")
![[Share Topic]](http://i900.photobucket.com/albums/ac207/wardensvigil/Buttons/share.png "[Share Topic]")
![[Print]](http://i900.photobucket.com/albums/ac207/wardensvigil/Buttons/print2.png "[Print]")
Author
Logged