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Scouts of the Inquisition (Alvis & Sync)

Disa smiled after Loriel's departure. She was finding that backbone of hers, and it was giving her a fair amount of snark. He appreciated that. No sense having someone on the team that couldn't hold their own off the battlefield as well as on it. Disa shook his head a moment, the flicker of memory coming to him, but he pushed it back. Never lettign himself go there, he couldn't, wouldn't, knew better. He could never forget it, but he'd not dwell on it. He and Saren traded a simple nod, adn moved on. Both men wanted to be places.

Disa was looking around at the various warriors, seeing if any of them might be earmarked for the scouts. After all, he needed a new archer of some kind, what witht he results of his last mission. The scouts did have something of a high mortality rate, the job being dangerous adn outside of normal support range. Disa paced along the training fields, seeing how the recruits were coming. Cullen knew his business, Disa had respect for the ex-Templar, more so than most other people that were around. He heard a few rapid strikes of a blade into a training dummy, and he walked to the sound. Most of hte recuits were working with other people, training in actual comabt. He expected to find some raw recruit, barely able to hold a sword working on a stationary target.

He was wrong.

He actually straightened his back instinctively as he saw the Seeker working on the dummy with swift precision, taking chips and slices of wood free from her target. She stepped back, wiping a thin layer of perspiration off fo her brow, noting that she had an observer.
"Is there something I might help you with?" She asked him, her tone suggesting that the answer might want to be in the negative. Disa bowed his head in a gesture of respect.
"No, my apologies Seeker. I did not mean to interupt, I was only admiring your form and precision." Disa answered as he raised his head to look her in the eye. She cocked her head as she looked at him, studying him.
"Have we met before?"
"Yes, once before, I delivered a report to yourself and Miss Leliana at Hardings request. I am a Sargeant in the scouts. Disa the Restles." She nodded her head, eyes flickering as she recalled the incident. Disa had to expect that there was very little that got past her, and that she forgot very little.

"Yes, I recall now. You were part of the team that was captured in the Mire. How is your team?" She asked, and while some might consider it to be concern for their wellbeing, he knew better. She was checking on an asset to the Inquisitiion. Task oriented, relentless, these were qualities that he could assign to the Seeker easily. He knew she wasn't without compassion, he'd seen some cracks here and there, but this wasn't one of those times.
"Recovering. The new one, the elf, is a bit rattled still I think. She might not know it yet, but I'll make sure she's settled before we go out again." He answered. She nodded in acknowledgement. There was a pause before she looked at the dummy.
"Did you wish to use this? Am I in your way?" Disa smiled at the thought.
"No. My weapon would likely rediuce the thing to kindling, and then no one would make use of it." She noted the flatblade, nodded again before she turned to walk away.
"Good luck out there." She said it simply, without any real effort behind it. It was a soldiers departure.
"And you as well Seeker." He replied. He watched her go, and then heard a faint chuckle from nearby.

"Something funny Saren?" Disa asked. The older man only smiled.
"I didn't know the angry driven ones with scars were your type." Saren answered.
"Reminds me of the girls back home is all, aside from the rampant faith in the Chantry and Maker." Saren nodded, still smiling at Disa.
"Got time for a little work, keep me in shape for when the elf gets here?" Disa nodded, unlimering his sword, and the two paced back to square off. A few of the recruits forms a rouggh circle, wanting to get a look at this.

Saren made a brief spin of his spear into a ready position. He scanned the edges of hte crowd, looking to see if what he was hoping for was present. He smiled, seeing Loriel starting to approach the field. He turned back to Disa. The two men came at one another quickly. Disa made a wide swing, using his sword ot try and keep reach on his opponent. Saren spun his spear, using it to shift the blade up slightly, letting it pass over him, and hammered hte butt into Disa's torso. The big man didn't flinch, dropping his pommel down at Saren. Teh other man spun away from Disa, swithcing his grip on his spear, stabbing out from a distance, using hte length of the spear. Disa bat it away, bore in hard after Saren. The smaller man gave ground, swinging his swpear in a wide arc to check Disa for a moment before the spear came to rest across his shoulders, jabbing it out at Disa quickly, each move meant to draw a response. Disa didn't bite at the bait, but did have to avoid the sarpened point as it came near him. Saren smiled, came closer, and Disa smiled.

The big man swept his foot forward, kicking a spray of snow into the air, making a wall of white to block any vision. Saren stabbed through it, guessing what Disa was attempting. He was wrong. Disa caught the spear in one hand, and heaved, pulling Saren through the snow and salmming a punch into his jaw, laying teh man out. There was some appreciative murmuring from the assembled recruits, and Disa helped his Saren back to his feet. He caught a glimpse of the Seeker from the very fringes of the ground, thought he might have caught the edges of a smile on her face as she turned to walk away. Disa put his attention back to the crowd, picking Loriel out, and nodding to her.
"Just in time Mageling! I'm sure that Saren is ready to start your lesson!" Disa told her. He also looked at the recruits. "And get back to work! There's a war going on!" He roared. The men snapped back to their tasks.
 
A small crowd had gathered in the area that was ostensibly used for training in martial talents. The Inquisition mages, few in number as they were, had no such area they could use for training, except to maybe leave the camp and travel a short distance into the mountains. It wasn’t difficult to pick Disa out in the crowd, given that he stood nearly a head taller than most others around him; the question was, why was he in the middle of the group?

As she drew closer to the gathering she spotted a couple of other high-profile faces: the Seeker, Cassandra, was there, watching the middle of the gathering; also another, the Grey Warden known as Blackwall, standing at the rear of the crowd and eyeing proceedings critically. Loriel had had little to do with either person: Cassandra she avoided, the elven mage preferring to not keep the company of the hard-nosed woman; Blackwall she just had never taken the time to talk with, although his presence was reportedly just as formidable as Cassandra’s. Both were tough, no-nonsense types, skilled with their swords and shields; neither would have any real useful fighting instruction for the young mage.

It seemed that there was a fight occurring – Disa and Saren? That’s what was going on…the pair were engaging in a bit of sparring, she realised. Why such drew the attention of a crowd, Loriel didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to try and get them to disperse and get back to their own training and duties. There was no denying the skill of either man, though – Disa she’d already seen fight in the Mire, and Saren’s spear was apparently up to the task of holding back Disa’s blade. Instinctively, though, she knew that any stabbing actions would be wasted on her; she would be wielding a staff, not a spear…even if the staff did taper to a point at the base, and not all staves were constructed like that.

Soon, though, the sparring session was ended, and Disa was calling for those gathered to disperse…and then calling out to her? She sighed softly to herself; even with a small throng of folks around them, he couldn’t help but address her by nickname…expecting him to use her name in public would be just too much to ask, she supposed. She waited a few moments before approaching the pair, came to a stop a couple of paces from them.

“Not a bad little display, I guess,” she offered nonchalantly. “Certainly it seemed to impress the people who’d gathered.” She paused as she turned to regard Saren. “You do realise, of course, that your style won’t fully work for me and my staff, don’t you? The staff is not generally a stabbing weapon, and while my current staff does have a small blade at the end, it is not wise to assume that all staves are constructed that way.”

Saren shrugged his shoulders slightly as his jaw worked to iron out the blow Disa had given him. “In the end, Loriel, I don’t care. If you can’t stab, you can’t stab. You can still block and swing, though, can’t you?”

Loriel blinked quickly. Saren had actually addressed her by name. Whether that was to just put her off, or an offer of some respect, she didn’t know, but… She stopped and chided herself – she had to try and stop being so defensive. She simply nodded to his question.

“Good enough, then,” Saren noted, then gestured towards the rear of the training area. “Shall we?” Loriel simply nodded again, unlimbered her staff from her shoulders, held it loosely in her hand as she followed the spearman to a small area away from the soldiers that were engaging in their sparring drills.
 
Disa folded his arms, and stood waiting and observing. Saren had a good handle on dealing with Loriel already he had to admit. Cutting through any and all of her objections with quick and effective repoonses that didn't leave much room to argue was effective. Now that he was a little less...vehement in his issues with Loriel, Disa mighjt have to keep that in mind.

Saren looked at Loriel as she squared off.
"Widen your stance. Better balance that way." He suited actyions to words, spreading himself out some, and leaning a bit forward. He shifted his stance again, putting his choulder forward, narrowing his profile to Loriel. She wasn't stupid, nor inept, and she seemed to be catching on to match his approach easily enough. He moved her through some basic stances, some way to make sure that she knew what she was about. Rotations of her staff to deflect incoming thrusts, making sure she knew that if she was quick enough, a rotation of her staff could potentially deflect an arrow or thrown weapon, but such was risky if one didn't also simply try and avoid it.

Stances and blocks were worked on, the basics. At his prompting, Loriel whoed a few of hte motions she used to throw attacks from her staff. Once he'd seen that, he started to work on tailoring attacks and defences to flow from bolt of power to physical attack or defence as smoothly as possible, and there were quite a few good opportunities within that realm of motions.

When it came to attacking with the staff physically, Saren did show how to use the reach of her staff to it's best advantage, showing that she could strike from beyond the reach of most weapons, making her a good deal safer. Disa was also quick to point out that against foes that lacked much int he way of armour, simply ramming the end of her staff into someone's sternum wasn't likely to kill them, but it woudl certainly take a lot of the fight out of them.

So much of the staff work came down to it's length, and that a wide sweeping blow could still deliver a punishing blow, even from one as slight as Loriel.

They kept at it for most of hte day, Saren being relentless in his approach, even to the point that Disa seemed to be curios on it. When Saren finally called a halt tot he training, he had to plant his spear adn lean on it for balance, keeping himself up. Disa approached the man.
"Are you all right?" He asked.
"Getting old barbarian. Be fine." he took a deep breath of hte cold air, letting it refresh him a little, and then looked to Loriel.

"Keep practicing this, the excercises we startedshoudl be repeated at least once a day. Keep at them until they're second nature, until; you don't have to think about them." He told her.
 
The training session was…useful, in a way. Also a bit informative. Loriel knew she had a long way to go, but she got a grasp on the basics well enough. Widening her stance a little did help her, and she realised she’d be able to use that to help her with her magical combat as well. Blocking was a bit harder to work out, given the staff was almost the same height was herself, but once she adjusted her grip on the shaft she started to work it out. Attacking was easier, especially when she discovered (or was she shown? So many things a blur…) that she could start with a short length and let her grip slide to lengthen the distance she could strike at…although she also realised that the staff was harder to control when it was swinging further out. Something else to think about, she knew. She also figured that she could possibly combined magical and physical attacks with her staff – strike a person with the head of the staff and release a magical bolt at the same time. So many things to consider…

Saren was apparently satisfied with the progress they’d made, and Disa also appeared to be less-unhappy. Loriel was breathing hard when the spearman called a halt, but not quite as hard as Saren seemed to be; she didn’t have to use her staff to lean on, at least, but that as about it. She remained silent, watched, as Disa checked on the other man; then she nodded at his instruction.

“I’ll try to practice what you’ve shown me,” she promised. “There’s a lot there, and some of what you’ve shown me may just be caught up in what becomes my own style.”

Saren snorted softly as Disa looked on. “If it becomes your own style, so be it,” he acknowledged. “Having your own style is not a bad thing; it means others are less likely to know what you’re doing for them to be able to counter it. Just make sure you don’t ignore what we’ve just done. Your sergeant likely won’t be happy if you do.”

A small smile flicked over the elven girl’s face. “Probably true,” she agreed, and she risked a furtive glance at the tall warrior near them. Saren snorted, almost in humour, at the mage’s quip.

“I think she’ll do you just fine, Disa,” the spearman offered casually. Loriel just flushed in response, although she did collect herself quickly and straightened up.

“Yes…well…” she began, now slightly flustered as well as recovering from exertion, “I, ummm…if there’s nothing more, I think I need to go and fix up my tent…” As she spoke, she slung her staff over her shoulder, enjoying the weapon’s comforting presence against her back as she quickly looked form one to the other.
 
Disa jerked his head at Saren.
"Get moving old man." He said with a tone of false scorn in his voice. Saren only smiled, and made good on the instruction. Disa watched him go, and shook his head. Saren was getting old, and it was clear from the way he walked away that there were old wounds that pained him to this day. Not an uncommon fate for old warriors. It was mildly discomforting to think that he himself wasn't too far off of such a fate. He'd been doing this for a long time, but his retirement plans had fallen through long enough ago to sting less than it used to, but it wasn't something that he was going to swell on.

Disa started to walk, waving for Loriel to go with him, aiming towards where she'd had her tent. There was something else that he wanted to address.
"That fight in the Mire, that was your first action, wasn't it? Tell me Mageling, how are you feeling about that? The fight, the losses, the killing?" he asked her. He was not fond of this line of speaking, but the point had been well made. It was the responsibility of a sergeant to make sure that his people were in good condition, both physically and mentally. Loriel was young, and he had known some people that had not dealt well with the first time they ended a life. Some had been fine while under the pressure of hte fight, only to go to pieces later. Both were something he had to keep an eye out for. He did hope that Loriel could cope with it easily enough, she'd acquitted herself well in the fighting. For all the gried he offered her, having a mage on the team did make them considerably more capable of dealing with anything they found that offered them violence.
 
Having Disa fall into step beside her as she made her way to her tent was something Loriel had most certainly not expected. More surprising was that he engaged her in conversation – he was wanting to know how she was feeling. Her initial thought was that he was searching for information about her to try and use as an excuse to get her off his team, or as fodder to use as the basis for more insults and put-downs…she dismissed the thought. It wasn’t reasonable to continue to think harshly of the man, not when others seemed to think well of him and that he just put on a rough exterior. If Disa’s more-recent comments were anything to go by, he was starting to appreciate her and her value to his team…and she needed to step up and act like it.

She nodded slowly as they walked.

“I…it was,” she admitted in a quiet tone. “I’ve never killed a person before then. I was never very good with combat spells when I was an apprentice, anyway; I was better with defensive and supportive magic. I guess…” She hesitated, then sighed.

“The Circles officially dissolved…what…fifteen months ago, now? I undertook my Harrowing just two weeks before that vote was cast, and the Grand Enchanter decided to let the result to dissolve the Circles stand even though it was only carried by a small margin. Before my Harrowing I was an apprentice, spent most of my time studying and learning and practicing; I never left the Tower in all that time. Then, suddenly, the Circles no longer existed, and ten years of my life just vanished in a vote I didn’t agree with or want. I and a few other mages from the Tower found ourselves outside the Tower with mages streaming everywhere to leave, and the Templars at that moment undecided on whether to let us go or chase us down. The group I was with…we headed towards the Storm Coast, found a small hut we used for shelter and refuge. We heard that the Rebel Mages we holing up in Redcliffe, but we weren’t rebels ourselves; we heard that Loyalist Mages were gathering where they could but we had no means of joining them. We took turns in shopping and foraging and scavenging, because there was nothing else we could do. We hid for almost a year before we were finally found by rogue Templars. I alone escaped when they attacked, and only because I wasn’t near the hut at the time…the Templars killed everyone in and near the hut and burned it to the ground. By that time we’d heard of the Inquisition and had decided to join it to save ourselves, mostly, and to try and right some of the wrongs in the world…but we never got the chance. Instead, six good people, people who just wanted to be safe and left alone, were killed simply because they were mages. I slowly made my way to the Hinterlands, hiding by day and moving at night when I could, because I’d heard whispers that the Inquisition had set up camps there…I found Corporal Vayle at the Crossroads and asked to join him.” She chuckled softly. “I must have looked a sight after four weeks of travelling through scrub, because he took one look at me and shipped me off to Haven to recover. Then Harding grabbed me and added me to your team.”

By now they were nearing her tent – still lying in the crumpled heap she’d left it. As she’d spoken, Loriel had kept her gaze in front of her, and this didn’t change as she continued speaking.

“I guess it’s…easier…? Killing from a distance like I do. I’m not there hacking them apart with a sword or daggers, or beating them to a pulp with a mace – I’m standing back and firing spells and energy. I…I don’t want to kill, but I recognise that there are times when I must, because my opponent would do the same to me.”

She finally turned her head slightly to regard the large warrior next to her. “That probably doesn’t answer your question, I know, but…right now, it’s all I’ve got. I think…talking to Garret while I was helping him recover helped me deal with my fears, at least a little.”
 
Disa nodded as she spoke, having her lay out all that had happened to her since everything had come apart. He had the thought that her story might not be too terribly unique amongst mages who simply wanted to be left alone. He couldn't fathom that approach to the situation, trying to stay neutral in a war like that was doomed to failure, as her story did prove. Had they made their way to Orlais, they could have linked up with loyalist mages, though that ran the risk of being pressed into service, they wouldn't have been isolated and vulnerable.

Disa gave himself a mental shake. It was entirely too easy to slip into the mindset on expecting others to have a similar outlook and upbringing to himself. It didn't work that way. Thedas might be a better place if it was so, but there was no point in wishing for that. Not when there was a giant hole in the sky.
"It tells me more than you might think Mageling. Sometimes ending the life of a person can be a hard thing to shoulder after awhile, and dealing with that is important. I'm your sergeant. If you feel like you need to talk, try to work something out, you can talk to me. I'm supposed to make sure you're at your best going into the field. That means more than just making sure you're armed and armoured for the occasion." He told her.

The sight of her collapsed tent made Disa half smile. He stepped to it, and crouched.
"Now come here, I'll show you a trick or two about the tent. Make sure some asshole can't just come along and kick it over." He told ehr turning that half smile at her directly.

It wasn't a hard task to do, showing her better ways of securing her lines, the right angle to drive in her stakes, and he also made sure that she had the small mallet to drive in the stakes, especially in Haven with the hard frozen ground. Well set up, the tent walls were tight, maximizing the interior space, and making sure that it would help maintain any heat within it.
"If you don't have a good one yet, requisition yourself a good bedroll. If anyone gives you any trouble, tell them I sent you." He informed her after they'd gone over the tent completely.
 
She nodded slowly at his words. They may not have been filled with the most awe-inspiring wisdom, but they made a kind of sense. In any case, he was her sergeant, duty-bound to ensure his team was up to scratch as it headed into the field…and that included her. It sounded – felt – odd, hearing him almost open to her, and ask her to open to him, but that’s what it was: her sergeant wanting to know each of his team was up to the task ahead.

Loriel didn’t offer a reply, instead continuing to her crumpled mess of a tent, lying in more-or-less the same pile of canvas she’d left it in. She found herself returning that half-smile as he crouched by her tent: she knew he was referring, in part, to himself when he spoke of assholes that might kick a tent down, but she let the comment go. If she knew him better, she might have made a light quip; if she was more annoyed with him, she might have fired off a barb at him…instead, she was neither, and neither degree of response was warranted. She crouched by the tent when he did, shuffled inside when he did, did her best to absorb his instruction on how to better set up a tent…by the time they were done – maybe a good couple of hours later – she felt she had a much better idea. Time would tell, as always.

“A bedroll…of course,” the young mage agreed with a deep nod of her head. “Probably one of several things I missed last night when I slept…or tried to. I’m sure my quality of sleep last night wasn’t as good as it could have been. How I’m going to carry one as well as my tent and staff I’m not sure…you may not have noticed, but I’m not as large or muscular as you are.“ She paused to give a faint but cheeky smile, before letting it fade as she continued. “No, I’m not asking someone to carry my gear for me. I’ll pull my own weight. I’ll figure it out.”

She paused again, then looked back towards the chantry briefly before focussing her gaze on the large barbarian.

“Do you have any idea when they’ll send us out again?” This time she was speaking with plain curiosity. “Varric suggested I might find Vivienne and have a chat with her about…magey stuff. If we’ve time, I’d like to do that, see what insight and help she can offer me. She might even have better ideas for a staff, ideas on how to be more effective in battle…things like that.”
 
Disa heard her out, listened as she spoke, always having to remind himself that he was dealing with someone younger than he was, someone that was still trying to make sense out of the world. And the world they lived in was a world gone completely mad. As she lamented the lack of a bedroll, adn carrying, he was about to give her a light admonishment, and possibly see about doing a little temporary shuffling of goods, but she beat him to it, dismissing hte idea outright. Taht was a good sign. Trying was how one learned. And learning was how one became better.

"It's not as heavy as you might think. But a little carrying will help put some meat on those bones of yours." He told her with a light wink. "We'll make sure you get a proper pack to carry, something that'll distribute the weight better for you. I'll have a word with Seggrit about sending my people into the field without even the basic gear. He may be running a business, but he's not going ot be running one for much longer if he keeps this up." Disa said with a bit of a glint to his eyes, something in them spoke of a buried anger. There was a flicker of something past that anger, something deeper, something...primal. He blinked, and the moment was gone.

"We're likely to deploy in a few days. Harding has a few options for a new member lined up, and she's letting me take my pick this time. So once that's sorted, it'll just be a matter of us being sent out again. Somewhere likely a bit less...exciting and infested with the walking dead." Disa observed, a tinge of hope in his voice, but if one listened, the hope was false. If Disa was hoenst, he could spend months in the Mire, charting it, and facing down all that there was there to fight. He had long ago made peace with the idea of who he was. He lived for hte glory of battle, to measure himself.

He had changed from that mindset once. Tried to be someone else.

But that chance was gone now, and who he was now was all the world needed from him.
"If you plan to speak to mages about your talent, I encourage it. The more you know, the better. Best not tell Vivienne you report to me though. Not much love lost there I fear." He admit to her. "Buy me a beer in the tavern sometime, and maybe I'll tell you the tale, such as it is. Until then, sleep mageling. And until you get your bedroll.." he popped the clasp on his bear cloak, and tossed it to her, gently this time, giving her a chance to catch it. "...use that. I'll be back for it in the morning." He nodded to her, adn turned away, leaving at a quick but even paced march. Likely finding his own tnet for the night. For a man as large as he was, and armoured as he was, he managed to vanish intot he night with surprising ease.
 
She caught the cloak with some measure of surprise – that she hadn’t expected. She hadn’t expected him to give her his cloak in the Mire, either, but she was no less surprised by the gesture this time…it was just that this time she saw the cloak being handed to her. She’d listened carefully to the man as he’d given his thoughts and opinions…so many things to try and remember. Well, not that many, really, but…well, she was finding she had a lot to learn, although she wasn’t as surprised by that.

As she watched Disa’s departing back, she wondered about the man her sergeant really was. He wasn’t as rough as he portrayed himself, Loriel was certain of that. He could be calm and polite and rational…although maybe that was now due, in part, because she’d pulled her weight and done the best she could in trying circumstances. He’d probably never address her by name, though, and she reluctantly resigned herself to that – she knew that she’d forever be “mageling” to him.

The young elf turned and slipped into her own tent, cloak bundled in her arms, and closed the tent flaps behind her. She laid the cloak out on the tent floor and settle into it, her mind going over the past hour or so. She hadn’t missed the slight anger in his voice as he spoke of being unprepared in the field. There was a story there. Likewise, there was a story in the near-wistfulness in his voice as he spoke of being away from the Mire…she got the feeling that he’d be happier there. Just how, she couldn’t say, but from her experience of the Fallow Mire, Loriel knew she’d be far happier away from it. That wasn’t necessarily her call, though; if the Inquisition sent them back there, she’d go.

She curled up in Disa’s heavy cloak and settled for a few moments. Things she had to do tomorrow, after breakfast: get a bedroll from Seggrit; figure out how to wrap and carry both a tent and a bedroll; try to find Vivienne and speak with her about mage-0relate matters (and not mention Disa to the other mage if at all possible). Disa had mentioned getting another member for the team; maybe Disa might ask for her opinion? She rather doubted that, though; after all, Loriel herself was still very green when it came to the field. Maybe she’d talk with Garret instead, see how the scout was doing. She rather liked the man, and was curious to know what he was up to.

She sighed softly as the silence settled upon her. The young mage closed her eyes, relaxed, allowed a small smile to form on her lips…and slowly drifted into sleep.
 
Scaling the rocks once more to reach his tent, Disa let out a breath, the exhale fogging the air around him. He kept going, glad of the exercise. He'd yet to meet a rock face he couldn't climb, and it was a kind of solid, practical exertion he appreciated. Another night of Haven stretched out in front of him, the collection of fires glittering in the night. So many people. They had the aid of the Templars. They had hundreds of soldiers. They had skilled leaders, and the Herald of Andraste.

They were probably all doomed anyway.

He wasn't going to lie to himself. Demons from the sky, the great tear they fell from, breaches all over the lands, and some other forces that seemed to be moving against them. The odds were against them on almost every level, especially with how they'd been denounced by the Chantry. Yes, they had made strides to mend that issue, but any hope of success was going to be a long shot.

And yet here he was.

A fight that needed fighting. If they failed, there wasn't going to be anywhere to run to. Demons didn't care if a swamp was unpleasant. They'd come for his people. And while the Chasind were fierce as could be, they would not hold for long against that kind of numbers and foes. Everyone was at risk. Running from the fight only offered more chances for the enemy to win. Every soul that would face the coming darkness was a blessed one in the eyes of the Gods. He sighed, letting his eyes close.

And helping the Inquisition was what she would have wanted. And perhaps he still felt like he owed her that much, even after the years had passed.

Disa banished that thought, all thoughts of her really. There was a word for what that brought on in his home tongue. Heimthra they called it, a sickness for home and the past. Strong warriors had been felled by it before, succumbing to the weakness of it all. Disa woud not let himself be taken by it. He turned back to his tent, climbing within. It was a little more brisk without his cloak, but it mattered little. He'd manage nicely. He always did. He let sleep take him, knowing he had things to do in the morning.

* * * * *​

Disa was up at the sound of boots by his tent. He stuck his head out, staring nearly eye level with Harding.
"Sergeant." She said brightly. Disa crawled out, stood, stretched, before looking back to his commanding officer.
"Ma'am. Getting an early start I see." Disa point out.
"A lot to do Disa. Now come on. We've a few volunteers to work with you, and I want you to pick one out." Disa sighed, followed her. The sooner they got it over with, the better.

Four people were waiting by a camp fire. Disa had a momentary pang of envy, wanting the breakfast they were doling out to one another, but eating built a sense of familiarity. And he didn't want that obscuring his choice.
"Scouts. This is Sergeant Disa, and he's here to pick which of you will be going with him on the next outing." Harding announced. Disa looked at each of them. Two men, two women. He discarded one of the men right away, noticing the flicker of a sneer on his face, the way he held himself. Noble. Or at least once upon a time. Might be useful in the battle lines, but Disa didn't some misplaced sense of superiority getting in the way of orders. The other man showed some promise. Not young, and scarred in the face, looked like claw marks. His hands had the rough wear on them that only came from hard labour. His build suggested a farmer at some point. If he was quiet, then he'd be useful.

The first woman looked like she belonged on the arm of a noble, willowy grace and an angular look to her face. She smiled at Disa, a look of admiration there. There was a story there, he was sure. Harding wouldn't have put her here if she was useless, so he didn't discount her. The other woman made him think of home. She was nearly as tall as he was, and built strong enough to look like she'd be able lift and throw most men without trouble. That kind of strength was appealing. But it was also somewhat redundant, given his own skills.

That left the farmer and the slight woman. The woman was almost right away a question to him. Why she was here, and why she had apparently volunteered to serve not only the scouts, but him directly.
"Your names. You two." Disa pointed at the pair he was interested.
"Jacques sir." The man answered without hesitation. There was the tinge of an Orlesian accent in his voice.
"Alexandra." She said with a smile.

There was something in the answer from the farmer that had Disa curious.
"You were a farmer then?" Disa asked.
"Not for a long time. I...served as a squire to the Chevliers for many years. I am here to serve as best I can." The man replied. Disa nodded. A veteran then. He looked to the woman.
"And your task before now?"
"I served in the household of my mistress. When the estate was burned, I came looking for a task. I've worked with my Lady's Master of the Hunt for some time. I'll be no burden to you sir, this I swear."
"Where was your mistresses estate?"
"Amaranthine sir." The name was like a thunderbolt. Disa looked to Harding.
"Jacques. I'll take his experience." She nodded.

"All right. The rest of you wil have assignments soon enough, Jacques, get your kit together. You'll be leaving with Disa as soon as his team is ready for action." Harding ordered. Alexandra looked crestfallen to be passed over.
"Aye ma'am." Jacques bowed low, adn took his leave, Disa simply walked away.
 
Loriel’s eyes slowly opened to the encroaching daylight that was shining through the tent walls. She’d managed to sleep better last night – maybe not a lot better, but still better. She was warmer, at least. And not quite as sore or uncomfortable as yesterday. She yawned, stretched her gangly limbs out to try and wake herself up, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She had things to do, she knew, to make sure she was ready to travel again: get a bedroll, work out how to pack her tent away, work out how to carry a tent and bedroll and staff without collapsing under the imagined weight of it all…and find Vivienne and speak with her and try to not mention Disa’s name through the conversation. Breakfast first, though…might help her achieve a few things.

The young mage hauled herself out of her tent and stood up, stretched once more to work the kinks out of her back, then looked around. Life was returning to the makeshift camp she was staying in, and she even got a few nods of greeting from a few others who were emerging into the world as she was. So far, life in the Inquisition was proving to be more amenable than life in the Tower. She gave a few faint smiles and nods in reply as she closed her tent and headed to the mess area where breakfast was being served. She thought she saw Disa and Harding walk past the area, but wasn’t sure, and she was soon lost in a crowd and couldn’t see the figures she’d thought she’d seen. Instead she bumped – not quite literally – into Garret. The scout reacted first.

“Morning Loriel,” he greeted her pleasantly. “I trust you slept well?”

“As well as I could, I suppose,” the mage conceded lightly. “Disa’s cloak helped a bit – kept me warmer, at least, let me sleep better.”

“Disa gave you his cloak…?” Garret raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s-“

“Unusual, I know,” Loriel finished for him. “I have no idea why. Maybe he’s actually starting to like me.”

“I’ve already told you he does,” the scout pointed out. “He’s just not as open about it.”

“You told me that, too,” she countered. “It’s one thing to hear it; it’s another to see it.”

“That’s true,” Garret agreed, as the two made their way to the serving tables. “What have you got lined up today?”

“I need a bedroll from Seggrit,” she offered. “I need to work out how to pack my tent and bedroll so I can carry them. And I want to try and speak with Vivienne, the mage from Orlais who seems to have fitted in with the Herald’s team.” She paused for a moment, then gave the scout a curious look. “You’re looking much better, by the way.”

Garret shrugged lightly. “I guess I am,” he acknowledged. “No small thanks to you. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have joined Zander in the Mire.”

Loriel flushed slightly. “I did what I could…” she muttered in a small, embarrassed voice.

“You did more than that,” the scout rejoined, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. “I never thought I’d say this to a mage, and an elven mage at that, but I owe you my life, Loriel.”

For a few seconds Loriel was silent, as they received their bowls of hot, nourishing porridge: she clearly didn’t know how to respond. Finally she smiled faintly. “Just…keep being a friend, Garret, and I’ll consider the debt repaid.”

Garret grinned. “I can do that,” he agreed. “And I’ll get that bedroll for you. Disa’s tab, right? I’ll fix it with Seggrit, don’t you worry about it.” He paused and cut the mage off as it looked like she was about to reply. “No, it’s fine. It’s not as though I have lots to do today, anyway. I’ll also catch up with Disa – he mumbled something about getting a new person into the squad, so I’ll have a chat and find out who the new person is. I’ll catch up with you later and let you know, okay?”

Loriel sighed softly in resignation. “Sure, I’ll do that. I might have even managed to not feel degraded by Vivienne.” She snorted softly as she felt Garret’s hand lightly slap her shoulder.

“You stop that, you hear?” Garret almost sounded annoyed by the mage’s comment. “You pulled your weight when it counted in the field. Without you we’d have been cut down faster in the Mire, don’t forget that. You gave a good account of yourself and made those Avvar work for their prize. You saved my life, and our asses, out there. That’s more than most can say. You’re all right, Loriel. Don’t you doubt that.” He paused, then gave Loriel’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “I’ll find you later, and bring you that bedroll. I’ll show you how to pack them together, too, if Disa hasn’t already done that. Okay?”

Loriel nodded, her cheeks fairly burning at both Garret’s rebuke and the attention he’d drawn to the pair of them. “Okay, Garret. I will.” It was a rather vague reply, but it seemed to appease the scout; then, bowl in hand, he disappeared into the throng of bodies.

Loriel found a table of mages and joined them; there were a couple of elves, but most were human. They knew her to be Dalish, it turned out, but they gave that no heed as the group talked about magic experiences and understandings. They swapped stories of recent events; few, like Loriel, had been in the field, so they were interested in hearing of the rift she’d encountered; others brought tales of research and tricks uncovered. Without realising it, they were all keeping an eye on the Templars that were nearby – the Herald had recently returned from Therinfall Redoubt in south-east Ferelden and had secured the assistance of the Templars, and more were arriving by the day, and that had the mages already gathered on edge. Curiously, not long after the Templars started arriving, news started filtering in from Redcliffe that the city had completely closed up and was locked down; no-one was getting in or out any more, and no-one knew what that meant for the Rebel Mages that had been using Redcliffe as their base.

Finding Vivienne didn’t take a lot of work, once breakfast was done – she eventually found the dark-skinned woman in the Chantry, sitting at a desk in a small nook to one side of the main hall. The woman looked to be reading a book, and had a mug of water next to her, and there were a few candles providing much-needed light. Loriel almost hated to intrude, but she knew she’d get some good guidance here. She took a step closer and cleared her throat slightly.

The woman’s head lifted gracefully and slowly half-turned to regard the new arrival. “Yes, dear?”

“I’m sorry to intrude, Miss Vivienne, but I’ve been told-“

“Wait…” the other woman all-but commanded as she turned fully to face Loriel. “You’re the mage who was in the Fallow Mire recently…Loriel, am I right?”

Loriel nodded her head quickly. “That’s right…but how did you know…?”

“…who you are?” Vivienne gave a small laugh as she watched the young elf before her. “My dear, I am – or was, I suppose – the First Enchanter of Montsimmard, and I nominally lead the Loyalist mages across Thedas. There isn’t a mage in the Inquisition at the moment that I don’t know or find out about, and given there aren’t so many of us here, it’s relatively easy for me to know who the Inquisition mages are.”

Loriel blinked slowly, then nodded her head. “I…I suppose that’s true,” she agreed, clearly not having even remotely considered that.

“Indeed, my dear,” the older woman agreed smugly. “Now…what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping I could get some advice from you,” Loriel began simply. “I’m part of Scout Harding’s team, as I’m sure you know. We’ll b going back into the field soon, and I wanted to know if there’s any advice you can give me about…well…developing as a mage.”

“You mean other than not giving in to demons?” Vivienne asked lightly. Loriel nodded her head, and the other mage continued. “I suppose I could, but I would first need to know what advice you seek…?”

Loriel almost shrugged helplessly. “I…I don’t know, to be honest,” she admitted after a slight pause. “I guess…the spells I know, really. How to develop the ones I know and learn new ones. In the Mire I found a couple of spell patters just pop into my head as we fought Avvar – I don’t know how, but-“

“Just like that?” Vivienne interrupted. “You were in the middle of a fight and new spells just appeared to you?”

Loriel nodded. “One, yes – Barrage, I think it was. The other – Immolate – came to me outside of fighting, but it still simply appeared in my mind.”

“Curious, darling,” Vivienne mused thoughtfully. “Normally mages have to be taught how to identify new patterns, but you…what you’re doing, as you’ve described it, has not been done for a very long time.” She smiled warmly at the elven mage. “You’ll bear watching, I think.”

“You…you think so?” Loriel looked somewhat perplexed.

“For certain, darling,” the other mage agreed. “But, to try and give you a little help…”

The two women spent the next hour talking about magic, experiences, learning and study, and even touched on the construction of staves. Loriel’s head was not-quite spinning when Commander Cullen approached the pair, made his apologies, and asked Vivienne to join the Herald in the War Room.

There was a lot of knowledge that had been dumped on the young elf, but Loriel knew that if she could retain it, it would be invaluable. A father flustered elven mage stepped out of the Chantry.
 
Disa was a bit aimless after securing the services of his newest scout. He wandered down to see what was going on with the merchants, surprised to find Garret having something of a heated discussion with Seggrit. He approached.
"I'm not a blasted charity! Unless I get some actual trade and not just the dregs that you people can give me, I'm going to go broke!" Seggrit protested. Garret didn't look overly flustered, the man knew what he was doing.
"Disa has an accumulated tab. You agreed to that. So we need this stuff for missions. And the Inquisition has been reimbursing you for basic gear anyway." Garrett countered. Before Seggrit could speak again Disa stepped up to the conversation.
"Seggrit. Are you trying to tell me that you're refusing to issue equipment to my people?" He asked. His tone wasn't loud, but it had the undertone of someone that was not interested in hearing any argument.

"No! I'm saying I need to turn a profit here! This...scout..." Seggrit seemed to menally catch himself before leveling an insult Garret's way."...is asking for a tiny deduction from your tab to cover the costs! And I won't stand for being taken advantage of!"
"Neither will I Seggrit. You're being paid what you agreed was a fair price for your goods. And now you want more? Would anyone miss you if I just tossed you out of Haven adn gave your goods to the Inquisition? We could get a merchant from Redcliffe in here to replace you in a few days at most." Disa countered. The fire went out of Segrit as he realized the big man wasn't joking. Seggrit hadn't done much to really ingratiate himself with the people here, and that could cost him very dearly.
"Bedroll. Okay." Seggrit mumbled.
"An officers bedroll. And a set of cloak clasps. And you'll do it as a favour to me." Seggrit mumbled something under his breath, but grabbed what was asked, adn handed it to Disa. "Always a pleasure Seggrit.'

Garret took the bedroll from Disa.
"I promised Loriel I'd bring her this." The scout explained.
"Fine. Keep an eye on her, all right? There's a few around here that might want to cause her trouble." Disa ordered. Garret nodded slowly. There was something in Disa's tone that made him wonder. The big man was a bit mercurial in his moods and actions, Grret had to wonder if that had something to do with being a Berserker? He'd met one or two in his time, but Disa was different. The way he lost control made him seem almost animalistic in his fury. Vicious. But somehow still fiercely loyal and devastating.
"Of course. Oh, and do we have a new member of the team?"
"Yes. Veteran. Orlesian. A lot of service. Jacques. He'll be with us soon." Disa paused. "When you see Loriel, let her know I want to have a meeting witht eh team tonight. My tent. Get everyone acquainted. Bring them in towards dusk. We'll share a drink, know who each other are." Garret nodded. It was a good idea.

"I'll pass it along sir." Garret promised. Disa nodded, and moved away from his subordinate. Garret trot off looking for Loriel. Disa had been serious in asking him to loo out for her, but frankly, Disa was going to be keeping an eye on Garret. Having friends among the squad was fine, but there was the potential of Garret getting a little too close to her. But time would tell. Disa turned a corner, and almost ran over Harding.

"Ma'am. Sorry about that." Disa apologised. Harding waved it away.
"Not worried about that. Seggrit complained about you, said you threatened him." Harding stated. Disa sighed. That had been quick.
"He was trying to extort money from me for basic gear for my unit. I disagreed."
"Just...try and keep it a little more diplomatic?"
"Aye ma'am." Harding smiled.
"And did I hear right? You're hosting a meeting or your people?"
"Yes. Relations were strained on the last mission, I want to avoid that again."
"Good. I might send another unit or two to join you. Make it a scouting party." Disa nodded.
"Send booze with them." Disa countered. Harding nodded.
"Of course. Until later then Disa." Harding head off, always more to do.
 
Loriel didn’t return to the main camp after her chat with Vivienne – instead the young mage headed for the camp outskirts. It was well-known that there was large tracts of wilderness outside the camp, hidden amongst the valleys and peaks and often covered in snow; this wilderness was rich in wood and iron and elfroot and, if one was careful, also rich in hides and meat from rams and druffalo. It was for the latter that Loriel was going outside the camp…she had to know how far she’d grown. A couple of months ago she’d never have dreamed of leaving the camp’s walls; now she knew she had to try.

She gave a nod to a couple of the guards as she walked through the side gates that led to the wilderness. Haven was by no means a fortress, but the Inquisition had done some work to make the small village at least a little defensible. The guards acknowledged her passage but otherwise said nothing to the elven mage; they were used to scouts and hunters passing through either seeking or bringing resources the Inquisition needed. This mage was no different, except for the fact that she clearly lacked the muscle to carry back whatever she might find. Loriel saw one of the guards smirk at her, but she didn’t bother retorting. She knew they were right about her lack of strength…but that wasn’t why she was going.

She trudged through the snow-covered path for maybe ten minutes before she spotted a couple of rams not far off the path. The rams didn’t seem to have noticed her – that was good. She slowly reached for her staff and grasped it in both slender hands…this would be an easy test, she knew. She quickly swung her staff in short arcs, releasing several bolts of electricity that flew towards the unsuspecting creature as she tried to make use of the instruction Saren had given her the day before. The ram bleated in surprise and pain as it started to flee, but it didn’t get very far; it quickly collapsed under the barrage of energy that struck it. The other ram had quickly disappeared, though, but Loriel didn’t mind; the staff – her new staff, that is – appeared to be quite effective. She knew from her chat with Vivienne that she could make a better one, but that also required better resources and materials; she’d deal with that later. She made a note of where the ram was for Inquisition scouts to collect the corpse, then she moved on.

A few minutes later she found a few druffalo grazing; the elf could only presume they were digging for the roots and grasses beneath the snow, or foraging off the low-lying branches of trees. She knew that the druffalo wouldn’t startle as easily, nor would they flee if she attacked; they were larger, stronger creatures than rams, and, while normally placid and docile, would be more likely to attack if attacked. She smiled grimly to herself – this was the test she wanted. Now she just had to hope she didn’t kill herself while testing herself.

She called forth a barrier around herself, felt the gentle tingle as she heard the soft whump that accompanied the appearance of the protective energy. Next she summoned the pattern and will for the Immolate spell and directed it at the nearest druffalo, and was rewarded by the creature bellowing in pain as its hide suddenly began burning. As she watched the creature turn towards her she called up the Barrage spell and pushed her will into it, then readied her staff as she saw a dozen bolts of energy dart into the burning animal. The animal came lumbering toward her as she swung her staff in rapid short arcs, sending bolt after bolt into the creature…and still it came at her. It stopped maybe twenty feet from her and lowered its head as it pawed at the ground…getting ready to charge at her? She stopped her staff and relaxed her body, watched as the animal started rushing towards her. She quickly flung herself to the right as it closed on her, and she felt one of its horns strike her barrier-covered leg and send her sprawling into the snow; there was impact, but no damage – thanks to her barrier. She pulled herself to her feet as the animal reached the end of its charge, and she again pulled the Immolate pattern from her mind and pushed her will into it before causing another burst of fire to engulf the creature. Her staff swung again and again as the druffalo – now looking badly scorched and moving slowly – closed on her…and it slowed and collapsed a few feet away from her, just as she felt her barrier collapse around her.

She smiled faintly as she looked around to check that no other druffalo had taken an interest in what she’d just done; fortunately, she’d been ignored by the others that were near the one she’d attacked. Animal mentality, she guessed: they weren’t being attacked, so they didn’t have to do anything. Her foray wasn’t a rousing success by any hunting standard, she knew, but it was a success on a personal level – she could call up the patters she’d recently discovered as she needed them. The knowledge sat well with her. Maybe she’d try taking on anther druffalo shortly, or even a pair of them, to further test her skill and endurance – she was well aware that fighting ruffalo was not at all the same as fighting Avvar or demons, but she could use them to push herself further than she could doing training drills…and the Inquisition could use the meat and hides.

And she was a fair way from Haven by now, too. She climbed on top of a nearby rocky mound and sat on it, just so she could recover her breath. She’d been gone maybe a half-hour, she guessed as she looked back at the place she now called home. She knew she’d fitted in with her clan, before she’d been cast out; she never really felt like she fitted in at the Tower; but here, with the Inquisition…here she could fit in and belong, maybe even be respected. So far the Inquisition looked upon its members as people, nothing more and nothing less, although individuals could not always be accounted for…and that sat well with her.

She pushed the tip of her staff into the ground, just enough to keep it in place, then held it between her legs as she grasped it with her hands and leaned on it. At least she had her armour – such as it was – to keep her warm.
 
There was precious little else that Disa needed to take care of within the village proper. The press of people was starting to rankle his nerves a little. The Inquistion had rallied quite a few people to their side already, and that had filled Haven near to bursting. The coming of hte cavalry force as well ahd put a great deal more strain on things. Needless to say, it was by far more crowded than Disa preferred. His own people rarely gathered in numbers beyond their colleced family, beyond that an entire clan might unite for a great purpose or raid, but beyond that...there hadn't been a true ruler of his people in many living memories. More was the pity in Disa's mind, but he knew in his heart that such was an unworthy thought.

Hads his people been united under a single banner, it was inevitiable they would march against he lowlanders, and then what would come? Fire and blood adn death. Had such a thing happened within the last decade, they would have done such either before or during the Blight, sappign away the resources needed to win that war. And had it happened after that, well, then they'd have done the same with the current crisis. Whatever else he was, Disa was a pragmatist. If his people were to be ascendant, it would have to come long after his death, or should have come long before his birth. The world simply couldn't afford the kind of upheaval that would come from such a thing.

He wasn't heading anywhere in parrticular, other than away. And that was good enough for him right now. He took a deep breath of the cold air, glad of his armoru adn cloak. If anything he might be a little over warm. He heard a familiar thump, and cracked a smile. The sound of a Barrier was hard to mistake for anything in nature. Disa did have to wonder what mage might be pratciing out here, though he had his suspicions. Though why she felt the need for a Barrier in a safeplace was beyond him, unless it was just setting the habit. He hiked his way through the snow, finding it deeper near the trees he passed. Disa let a hand slide along the bark of the tree, a sturdy pine that towered above him. He ghosted a smile at the simple thing, but he felt oddly gratified to see the mundane thigns ofd hte world continuing to move forward even with the level of insanity that the world had reached.

He passed from the trees, and heard a blast of flame, the bursting of heat and the way it shoved the air away, the general crackle of power that came from some mages staves. As he emerged into the line of sight, he saw Loriel practicing. Against a druffalo. He had halfg a mind to get involved, but he'd seen her fight in the swamps, he had little doubt she'd be able to hold her own, if not escape if things became too out of hand.

Such a concern proved to be rather unfounded, as she kept hitting it with blast after blast, spells and staff blasts chipping away at it until the beast finally fell. She paced off to take a moment to catch her breath, adn DIsa strode forward. Not towards her, but the corpse of the druffalo.
"I see you've found ways ot keep busy mageling." He observed, not looking directly at her as he walked. He was a fair distance from her, maybe thirty yards, before he knelt beside the corpse. He drew a dagger, adn began to cut into it. It was simple work, but he was loath to let such a large quanitity of meat and materials go to waste. "Lend a hand, will you? I assume you've some idea of how to do this?"
 
She wasn’t weary from her exertions, not by a long stretch; but resting to recover her energy after any battle was a good thing. That’s what Loriel thought, anyway. She wasn’t lost in any kind of reverie, but she wasn’t paying close attention to her surroundings, either. She was just content, she supposed, to sit on the rock and contemplate her performance against the druffalo. It had been adequate, she knew, but nothing breathtaking. It had been a personal victory, nothing more and nothing less – a victory of magic and survival. The beast had not injured her (although it would have if she hadn’t had her barrier up), and she’d reconciled her developing magic.

She saw, on some level, the approaching person, and she was curious: why would he be here, of all places? Was he following her? What had brought him to the same location as her? She decided to not ask; she had no reason to object to his presence, and Haven was not exactly a closed fortress that he could be denied entry or passage. Maybe he had seen her fight, and was just following up on what he’d seen. He could just as easily have walked away, she knew, but she also realised that his presence would possibly make dealing with the carcass a little easier. She watched for a moment as he moved to the downed beast, watched as he drew a dagger and started working on skinning it. What she didn’t expect, though, was that he’d ask her to join him.

“I thought the practice would be useful,” she explained as she slid off the rocky outcrop and moved toward her sergeant. “Okay, a druffalo isn’t exactly a quality opponent, but it can still fight back and kill me if I’m not careful.” She hesitated, then set her staff on the ground near them and slid her dagger – the one he’d given her – from its sheath at the rear of her belt. She knelt next to the beast, opposite him, and started to work the blade through the hide.

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve done this in earnest,” she noted quietly. “Not a lot of call for skinning animals in the Tower, and we didn’t really hunt animals when I was in hiding following the dissolving of the Circles. My clan did teach me something of skinning and carving from kills, but…that was over ten years ago.”

She sighed softly and focussed on the carcass for a few moments. Then she looked up briefly and addressed a question to him.

“So…how do you know the Dalish? You speak at least a little of the even tongue, so I’m understandably curious…”
 
She was a little bit chatty, but that was fine with Disa. Every time she talked, he learned a alittle more, and that helped him understand things. There was likely always going to be a little bit of a barrier betweent hem, just from his own history with the elves, but that didn't mean that he had to maintain constant hostility. They'd shed blood in battle together, and that was enough for him to put a lot of his other reservations on hold.

Her wuestion was actually one that was fairly obvious really. There were large numbers of hte Dalish themselves that didn't speak much of the language, a human spouting thhe words fairly freely had to be something of an odd experience. But it wasn't as complicated in many ways.
"My clan was bordered to a Dalish clan for a long time. A few generations of my people anyway. We...didnt always get along. Our hunters fought for game, our wqarriors fought for pride. They raided us, we raided back, always just falling short of starting an actual war with one another. That much contact tends to lead to some attempts to educate yourself about you enemies. Language, tactics, beliefs. Anything to understand them, a little better. The side that fails to understand their foes is the side that dies." Disa explained. He kept working as he spoke, and considered the next few things he could say. He could keep them backm, but there was likely not ever going to be another point that it would come up naturally. And perhaps she deserved to know.

"I fought one of their champions. A duel between us to decide a conflict permanently. He was fast. Knew the blade better than any of his companions. The Dalish called him hero, said he had fought off human attacks dozens of times, slain many, saved even more. The fight was not a slow one, it was decided bewteen us quickly enough. Such is the way often times, when two warriors of similar skills meet. It takes a long time, or is over in all but a flash." Disa touched his abdomen idly, remembering the bite of dalish steel in his body. He hand moved to his arm, touching the trophy ring there. "He was a worthy foe. One of the few worthy of respect. A credit to his people adn his clan. The Fihrallen clan mourned his loss."
 
Slowly she found the Old Skills (it sounded strange in her head to refer to them as if they were great things) returning to her hands. Oh, yes, she was rusty – Loriel knew she was. Survival skills had not been a feature of her studies in the Tower. Heck, leaving the Tower hadn’t been a feature of her time there. She’d since learned that Fereldan’s Circle Tower was one of the more restrictive, that many other Circles allowed their mages to leave when they needed to, and some Circles didn’t even require their Mages to live in a specific building; but for all that she’d disliked the restrictiveness of Fereldan’s Tower, she was glad she hadn’t lived in Kirkwall. As for the druffalo carcass…well, she was managing to remove the hide; her work wasn’t brilliant, but it was at least adequate. The hide was coming off mostly as she intended.

Disa was talking, too. Revealing small snippets about himself. She was in no way surprised to find that he’d tangled with the Dalish on the field of battle. She’d have liked to have been surprised, but she wasn’t; it felt more like he was confirming something she already knew, although she knew she’d never be able to say just how she knew. And what he was saying, about learning the ways of the enemy, made sense. Then he went on, talking about a single combat fight with an elven champion, supposedly to bring an end to hostilities. She vaguely recalled something similar happening in her own clan happening just after she was born. She was too young to understand; she didn’t even have a memory of the event, although the adults of the clan, when they spoke of it, spoke with some sadness of loss.

Then he finished speaking…he WAS talking about her clan.

“Clan Fihrallen,” she repeated slowly. “MY clan. YOU killed one of MY clan’s warriors.”

Her hands froze in the act of slicing the hide off the carcass…she stopped dead, her gaze suddenly locked on the body between them. Her heart seemed to jump into her throat for a moment. And yet…her blood didn’t boil as it might have done. For all that she should have hated him, should have moved to attack him in some long-lost feud to defend her people…these were also the same people that had cast her out when she’d come into her magic.

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. This was a turning point for her, although she didn’t immediately recognise it as such; it was a point at which she’d have to finally decide her loyalties and priorities.

She slowly and deliberately cleaned her blade in the snow between her knees and returned it to its sheath. Then she slowly stood and met her sergeant’s gaze. When she found her voice, she spoke in a slow, measured tone.

“E-excuse me, sir,” she finally offered quietly. “I…I need to think on this, and what it means for…for me.” She still wasn’t feeling anger or rage, or even hatred; if anything, she felt…confused.

She turned slightly and walked away, but she didn’t head back towards Haven; instead, she headed vaguely in the direction of the Penitent’s Bridge, where a couple of druffalo were lazily shuffling through the snow in search of something to graze on.
 
"Understood scout. Dismissed. Several of the scout squads are gathering tonight, it would do you good to be there." He observed, but didn't make any further comment or effort to stop her.

It wasn't something that very many people really had to grapple with on the same scale. Sure, there were those from difering nations that had to deal with post war feelings, but there was rarely the moment that you learned that the man before you was directly responsible for your clan losing a section of hunting grounds, and had slain one of the great champions of your people. Speed and precision against pure brute force and rage, it had been a clash that no one present would ever forget.

There had been plenty of equally hard battles during the Blight, but not one that had meant so much immediately to his people. Or to hers. But she hadn't tried to set him on fire, so he'd count that as her taking the news well. Disa focused on the task at hand, getting the carcass ready for transport. Once he'd managed that, he lashed a rope around it and took a deep breath. He started dragging hte corpse.

It was slow going, the beast weighing nearly a solid tonne. Disa was puffing from the exertion fairly quickly, knowing that he could have gone back to Haven for help, but there was something gratifying about making hte effort on his own. Besides, if he got help, he'd have to share it out right away, and he wasn't planning on that.

It took hours to make it back to his camp, and even longer to stoke the fire larger. He hewed off slabs of the meat, setting them up to roast. It was still a few hours before dark, but druffalo took time to cook properly, and he wanted there to be enough to go around. The hide he set up on a quickly assembled rack, stretching it out. There was a chance he might actually be here long enough to deal with it properly, and if he could, then it'd be worth far more in trade.

He knew that it was all just busy work.

He hadn't had to share his past with Loriel, but he'd not wanted to make it seem like he was actively hiding anything from her either, especially when it could be considered at least tangentially connected to herself. Honesty. Being somewhat open at least with his squad, it was still hard for him most days. They weren't clan, but they were his lifeline in duty, and he needed them to be able to trust him. He settled in to tend to the meat as the day whiled away, darkness starting to fall. He expected to have the other scouts arriving soon.
 
She didn’t walk quickly towards the bridge – walking quickly was a difficult thing to achieve when your feet were disappearing an inch or two into the top layers of snow with each step – so that gave her lots of time to think. Loriel’s thoughts were all over the place, confused, tumultuous…and she didn’t know how to even begin organising them to help her work things out. At best, she might have described herself as disappointed: with herself, for not handling Disa’s revelation better; with her elders, for not being more open and informative; with Disa, for not being more considerate…but mostly with herself. And she couldn’t figure out why.

A soft chuckle sounded above her, startling her a little. She realised she’d reached the bridge, and that her journey through the snow-covered mountains was at its end – the mountain wall met the gates of the bridge and forward movement wasn’t possible at this point. She’d have to go up, onto the bridge, or back the way she’d come. She looked up in the direction of the chuckle, only then realising that her hand had reflexively gone to grab her staff; she relaxed her grip, letting the staff settle on her shoulders again, and sought out the source of the chuckle.

The chuckle’s owner was a large man with unkempt dark hair and a thick, bushy beard. Dark eyes peered at her with good humour from under a heavy brow. The man was wearing a practical steel breastplate with the emblem of the Grey Wardens emblazoned on it, and he had a stout shield strapped to his back. Loriel guessed she’d been watching her for at least a little while, long enough to have wondered just when she’d notice she’d run out of walking space; clearly, he’d come to that conclusion long before she had. She offered the man a sheepish smile. The path from the bridge back to the main camp would be much easier than her path back through the snow, but she had no way to really get up to the bridge.

“I’m glad I was able to offer some entertainment,” she began, her voice carrying her awareness of her dilemma and offering no hostility.

The man snorted quietly and lowered a rope ladder to her. “You may want this,” he suggested, his voice deep and mirthful and carrying an unusual accent.

“Thank you,” she replied gratefully. The man didn’t say anything further, preferring to remain quiet as Loriel climbed the ladder. When she was at the top he helped her over the bridge wall and the pair then pulled the ladder back up and stowed it in a nearby locker. It was only then that he spoke again.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he offered. At the mage’s puzzled expression, he continued. “I was just out walking the perimeter, checking the fortifications and ways into Haven.” He shrugged slightly. “It’s what I do. Comes from a…a long military life of…patrolling. I saw you about ten minutes ago and made a small bet with myself that you were so lost in thought you’d not notice you were out of walking room until you hit something.” He held up his hands defensively. “I’m not prying, just observing. Unless you wish to share, of course…”

Loriel frowned slightly before replying. “Sharing might help, but could you at least tell me who you are?”

The man looked blankly at her for a moment before he snorted quietly. “Sorry. I’ve spent a lot of time on my own lately, I tend to forget my social graces. The name’s Blackwall. Your Herald recruited me in the Hinterlands a week or so ago.”

Loriel nodded her head. ”Loriel. One of the Inquisition’s mages, although I guess the staff makes that obvious. I’m in one of Scout Harding’s many scouting teams.”

Blackwall nodded slowly in understanding. “Harding. Good woman, that one. No-nonsense, knows her stuff. You could do worse for a scout leader than her.” He paused for a moment, pondering the elven mage before her. “You’d have been in one of those teams the Herald grabbed out of the Fallow Mire a while back, then.” He grinned at Loriel’s exasperated expression. “I hear things, and I’ve not been so alone that I’ve forgotten how to put two and two together to get five.”

Loriel cocked an eyebrow. “That’s not the right…” She trailed off as she realised that the man had been joking with her. “Okay, I’ll admit it: you got me there.”

Blackwall chuckled again. “At least you realised it before you made a total fool of yourself,” he acknowledged. “Now…you feel up to sharing…?”

Loriel sighed softly as she turned to look over the wall of the bridge at the frozen lake below them. “Just…trying to sort out something I just learned. The short version: my sergeant just told me that he was the man who killed one of my clan’s champions a long time ago, just after I was born. Apparently, it was some formal battle between them, to try and bring an end to the hostilities between his clan and mine. But…how do you reconcile that?”

“Ah,” Blackwall began thoughtfully. “The vanquished comes face-to-face with the man who vanquished them. Not an easy thing to deal with, I’ll bet.”

“Well…it’s not exactly like that, but close enough, I suppose,” Loriel replied.

“I guess that’s true,” Blackwall greed. “But there’s more, isn’t there? I mean, you’re and elf, a mage, and you’re Dalish, but you don’t have the facial markings.”

The elven girl’s lips pursed in thought. “Yes. My clan cast me out when I came into my magic. Until a year or so ago, I was living in Ferelden’s Circle Tower. I never had the chance to earn my vallaslin.”

“So it’s a question of loyalty, then,” the warden surmised. “Do you give your loyalty to the clan that cast you out when you were a child, or to the sergeant who killed one of your kin?”

Loriel nodded her head slowly.

“Then let me say this: give your loyalty to the Inquisition,” Blackwall continued. “They’ve taken you in, given you purpose, given you access to equipment and training that you wouldn’t have otherwise had. After that, it becomes a question of duty, not loyalty. Your loyalty is to the Inquisition, and your duty is to your sergeant and to your scouting team. You don’t have to like your sergeant to work well with him.”

The mage pondered the warden’s words as the pair, as if by some unspoken agreement, slowly turned and headed back towards Haven. “I…I guess that’s one way to look at it,” she conceded slowly. “It’s better than any way I was able to come up with, that’s for sure.”

The warden chuckled knowingly, and the two continued to chat, this time more amiably about general things, as they made their way back to Haven. Darkness was falling when they got back to the village encampment, and they went their separate ways – Blackwall towards the Chantry building, and Loriel towards where the scouts and soldiers were camped. Garret caught up with the mage almost as soon as the mage was in sight of the sea of tents.

“There you are, Loriel,” the scouted greeted her. “Thought you weren’t going to make it. A few of the teams have gathered, and there’s lots of chatter about the druffalo that Disa hauled back to camp.”

“I hope he’s not taking the credit for my kill,” the elven mage muttered lightly. She hadn’t quite straightened out her feelings towards Disa, but she was no longer as confused as she had been a few hours earlier. She owed him a duty; their fledgling friendship had been damaged, but it was not irreparable, she knew.

“Oh…that was you?” Garret seemed a little surprised by that. “A few of us wondered who’d killed it – the carcass looked a little burned, and it wasn’t displaying any of the marks that a sword would have left.” The scout shrugged his shoulders. “Well, then…you’re coming along well. I…I’m glad you’re on our team, Loriel. Where’ve you been all afternoon?”

“I just…went out to clear my head, get a few things straightened out,” Loriel explained. “All good, now.” She paused to look around her. “You and Disa both said something about a gathering of scouts…?”

Garret nodded quickly. “Yeah…this way…”
 
Disa was pleased that his newest recruit, Jacques, arrived well in advance to others.
"Reporting sir. Is there anything I can do?" He asked, his tone carrying the Orlesian accent clearly.
"Check the meat. Make sure it doesn't burn." Disa ordered. Jacques didn't hesitate, but set to work. A moment later, he was sprinkling what looked like salt on the meat. Disa only smiled. Experience in this field indeed.

Disa gave a wave to greet the next arrivals. Dylan and his full team, Maren, Davin, and Paula, all striding towards the large fire. And they had a sack with them that was making the sound of glass clinking together. He had some hope for what that entailed.
"Are we too early?" Dylan asked as he came close.
"To eat, yes, but not if what I hope is in that bag is accurate." Disa answered. Dylan grinned adn withdrew a bottle from the bag, and tossed it to the Chasind. Disa cracked it and took a long pull. An ale, but a quality one, something normally only sold individually. He didn't know where Dylan had gotten them, and he was equally certain he didn't care.

Garret came and went again, off to go find Loriel, while another mob was approaching. Leading the way was clearly Harding, and she had a bright smile on her face.
"We have brought booze!" She called.
"And I have food!" Disa called back. There was a faint cheer from the advancing scouts.

Jacques was slicing off chunks of the meat, skewering it onto small sticks, and passing it out. The scouts collapsed into amiable drinking and eating.
"Druffalo, eh? Good hunting?" Dylan asked. Garret was leading Loriel up to the gathering, close enough to hear the conversation.
"It was good hunting. Just not from me." Disa answered.
"Really? Who then?" Disa smiled.
"The mageling actually."
"The elf? She killed it?"
"On her own. I just dragged it here and cleaned it."
"Good for her. Though she could have at least helped you clean it."
"She had things of her own to do."
"Like what?"
"Things of her own Dylan." Disa's tone made it clear that was his last word on the subject.

"And here she is, the founder of the feast!" Disa called as Garret and Loriel approached the edge of the fire light. The others around the fire raised theri bottle or glass to her and gave a shout of approval. "Come can get a drink and share of the meat Mageling! The scouts are gathered in one place for once. It is a time to be celebrated." He didn't say more to her from there, not wanting to presume too much. Whatever her mind was, she'd make it known to him or not. Such was her perogative. And that was fine enough by him, so long as she was still solid under fire.
 
For reasons beyond her understanding, Loriel felt herself flush with pride when Disa declared to the gathered scouts that their feast was solely due to her. She’d have expected a muttered comment, would have accepted a word of thanks…but the broad declaration surprised her. She knew Dylan was correct in that she should have helped clean it up, but Disa backed her there, too. It was enough that even Garret gave her a light clap on the shoulder; the two were still approaching the gathering, but she could hear the conversation…if she didn’t know better, she’d have thought Disa had made sure she could hear it. Maybe he had done exactly that.

Then she reached the gathering, Garret beside her, and a toast was raised to her. That left her…stunned. Never had she expected that she – a dalish elf, nevermind a mage – would be given a toast of celebration for the things she’d done. That was…unprecedented, with the only exception she could remember being the elven Grey Warden who’d killed the archdemon to end the Fourth Blight. Yet here they were – three of four scouting teams, if not more, plus Harding and a few other senior scouts, all raising their bottles or mugs to her. She almost didn’t feel it when Garret pressed a mug into her hand so she could drink as well. She didn’t protest, but she knew to drink carefully. She didn’t want to be the drunk mage that scared the heck out of everyone present.

For a few minutes scouts just milled around, greeting each other and bumping glasses or bottles or mugs together in friendship. A few even did the same with her, treating her no differently than they treated each other, and she found herself responding in kind after the first couple of surprising introductions. She wasn’t used to being treated as an equal by humans, but there was no denying it was happening here. She also noted she was one of only two or three mages amongst the scout teams. Her reflection was interrupted by a tap on her elbow; when she looked, she was not surprised to see Harding wanting her attention, gesturing her to one side, slightly away from the gathered teams.

“How are you settling in, Loriel?” the lead scout wanted to know. Obviously, the dwarf wasn’t referring to the current gathering.

“As well as I can, I think,” the elf replied carefully. She didn’t want to reveal more than she had to, although she was feeling better after her talk with Blackwall.

“Good,” Harding noted. “Sounds like you had a fun hunt?”

“I wanted to make sure my success with magic in the Fallow Mire wasn’t a fluke,” the elf admitted. “I know, a druffalo isn’t a quality target, but it’ll still kill me if I’m not careful.”

“True enough. Everything okay after that?” Clearly Harding was fishing to get a sense of what happened after. The lead scout hadn’t missed the exchange between Disa and Dylan.

Loriel hesitated, then nodded. “I…yes.” She sighed softly. “I learned something that fits into the history of my clan before…before I was cast out of it. I needed to work through those things. A chat with Blackwall helped greatly. I’m okay, now.”

“Glad to hear it, Loriel,” Harding acknowledged. “It sounds personal, so I won’t pry. Blackwall’s got a good head on his shoulders, so if he could help you sort it out, I’m grateful. I’ll leave it at that.” The dwarf grinned and lightly punched the mage’s arm. “Now, let’s get back there and celebrate, meet the other teams, that sort of thing. You’re an Inquisition Scout. You’re part of a team. You’ve earned your place. Relax and enjoy it.”

Loriel smiled faintly. “Okay, Harding.” She followed the lead scout back into the throng.

It wasn’t long before Garret was standing in front of her, another man by his side. The other man was about the same height as Garret, maybe slightly taller, older, had a few scars on his face, weathered skin from time spent outdoors…and an upright bearing, as if from time spent in battle lines.

“Loriel!” Garret announced, before she could open her mouth. “This is Jacques, the newest member of our team. Handy in battle, knows his way around both a blade and a campfire, as I hear things. Jacques, this is Loriel, our support mage and ranged firepower, provider of feasts, and a life-saver.”

Loriel felt herself flush again at the introduction, but she couldn’t stop Garret from talking. Fortunately Jacques seemed to take it all in his stride and offered his forearm in greeting, which Loriel took with as firm a grip as she could muster.

“A pleasure, Loriel,” the man replied. Loriel heard the trace of accent -Orlesian – and pushed down the annoyance that threatened to rise within her. The Dales – now lost to the elves – were located in Orlais, and the Orlesians were doing a fine job of keeping the elves out of their home. That wasn’t this man’s fault.

“Likewise, Jacques,” the mage agreed. “Although I fear Garret’s pronouncement to be a bit exaggerated.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the warrior said nonchalantly. “You keep me standing, and I’ll stop the enemy from reaching you. That’s good enough for me.”

“Sounds good to me, too,” Loriel acknowledged with a nod of her head, as the two released their grips.

“Okay, then,” Garret chimed in, a smile on his lips. “I need to let Jacques get back to the fire before we start eating charcoal instead of cooked meat.” Jacques grinned faintly, then bobbed his head and disappeared into the crowd.

“And you stay close, Loriel,” Garret added as Jacques vanished. “Rumour has it that we’ll be getting new orders and assignments soon. Some place warm would be nice.”

“Couldn’t be worse than the Mire, surely,” Loriel agreed.

“Indeed. Anyway, I’m going to mingle. You should, too.” Garret placed his hand on the mage’s shoulder, gave it a light squeeze, then headed off to find people to talk with. Loriel nodded to the man as he departed, then she scanned through the crowd, looking for her sergeant. She needed to speak with him, and sooner rather than later would be preferable…
 
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