Thursday, January 8, 2015

Dragon Age Diaries: The Templar

Justinian 30, 9:30 Dragon

Maker, I hope Duncan knows what he's doing.  He promised to return today or tomorrow, and if you ask me, it can't be too soon.  Only three new recruits seems a small number, and the wardens may not even see that many through the Joining.  More importantly, our warden-commander should be here, especially since King Cailan seems eager to battle.  I hope he continues to wait for Duncan.  The inactivity is making him seem rash.

There's plenty of work, though.  Regular patrols to keep the darkspawn pushed back from Ostagar as the armies continue to ready and assemble.  Just today I went out with Brynk and Ash, just to the edge of the wilds.  Scouting business, and all.  One of the other wardens claims he saw a woman when he was checking the swamp the other day.  Of course some of the more experienced wardens called him crazy.  I don't know.  The witches of the wilds is a tale I'd be willing to believe.  The Circle certainly believes the stories.

Ser Jory keeps approaching the wardens.  He's worried about the Joining, and has no one to allay his fear.  The other gray wardens have taken to ignoring him, and Daveth has grown impatient.  I suppose I do feel sorry for Ser Jory; it is easier to stomach the duties of a warden when there is no close family.

Daveth keeps to himself.  He has a small, needle-like dagger he takes to spinning around in his fingers.  Duncan told me that he'd caught him pick-pocketing in Denerim.  Another use of the right of conscription.  Never trust a cutpurse, if you ask me.  But for all that, though, his views on the Blight are firm, and he wishes to fight.

Best not to speak of the recruits, though.  The Joining will determine who will be a gray warden...and who will not. comes the Reverend Mother, with a particularly determined look in her eye.  I wonder what new menial task she has devised to twist the knife.  She can't get over how Duncan got me out of Chantry service just in time, but far be it from me to tell her that these past six months have been some of the best I've ever known.

And there's the sound of the scouts' horns--that must be Duncan.  Best finish this task quickly; if I know Duncan, he'll direct whatever new recruit he's dug up to me.  First impressions, I suppose.

...which apparently shouldn't include a shouting match with a mage.  Apologies aside, I can't say I'm entirely impressed with Duncan's choice.  I'm not sure which is rarer--that the recruit is a dwarf, or that she's female.  Not many women choose to be a gray warden, it seems.  We tend to be seen as a brotherhood, almost.

Her name is Lay-lin...Laylynn?  I should have asked how to spell it.  There's a couple of rusty swords strapped to her back, so either a warrior or a rogue, most likely.  I haven't met many dwarves in my lifetime; only a couple ever came to Redcliffe when I was a boy, and none bothered with the Chantry.  Their beliefs are different; they revere the Stone as their creator or deity.

There aren't even any stories or rumors about dwarves that I know of.  I'd guess them to be blunt and surly at times, but not this one.  Rather, she's startled.  All the time.

Of course, I imagine I had the same wild look in my eyes when I first came here, too.  It was only to be expected, though, coming from the Chantry.  Being trained to chop a possessed mage's head off while praying to Andraste is a far cry from guiding recruits through the wilds in search of darkspawn.

But enough of that. We've gathered Ser Jory and Daveth, and now all we need is some darkspawn blood.  Let the junior warden responsibilities begin.

P.S.  Laillyn.  I had it mostly right.

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