Endrin followed Duncan through the camp with wide eyes. She had never seen so many humans before, and even without the humans there was so much for her to take in. The remaining stone structures, while badly in disrepair were very grand to say the least. Endrin was forced to admit to herself that the humans seemed be far more orderly than she had anticipated. Everything seemed to be in its own place, and everyone seemed to know perfectly well where they were going or what they were supposed to be doing.

Most of the soldiers and other humans paid little enough attention to Endrin beyond a passing glance or simple nod, some however stared openly, others gawked at the bold tattoo that covered most of her face, stylized, twisting halla antlers to symbolize Ghilan'nain, Mother of the Halla, and an arrow rising up through the middle to symbolize Andruil, Goddess of the Hunt. Endrin only found the staring to be mildly disturbing. She was a Dalish after all, and from what she had gathered from the few humans she had met during her life, most of them considered her people to be little more than modern myth, if they believed the Dalish existed at all.

Beside her, Duncan pointed to a man with a young looking face and short cut blond hair. "That is Alistair, another of my Grey Wardens. Go speak with him, and he will show you around the camp and answer any other questions you may have. Tell him that I have a meeting with Teyrn Loghain and King Cailan, and I will be with you all shortly."

"As you wish." Endrin complied. She was somewhat relieved to be away from Duncan, even if it was only for a short time. While she couldn't find it in herself to hate him, she certainly had no love for the man who had torn her away from her clan. The other human, Alistair, didn't seem to notice her approaching, not even when she stopped directly in front of him. Endrin cocked an eyebrow, then said, "Hello?" in what she hoped was a friendly sounding voice.

Alistair blinked a couple times, then looked down at Endrin and said, "Oh... sorry about that, guess you caught me daydreaming... how embarrassing!"

Endrin continued to stare at him, not sure of what to say.

Somewhat awkwardly, Alistair said, "So, you must be the new recruit that Duncan said he was bringing. Funny, but he never mentioned you would be a Dalish, or a woman for that matter. I've never known a woman Grey Warden."

Now Endrin was somewhat offended, "And just what does all that mean, shemlen? Do you have a problem with Dalish, or women?"

"No, no!" Alistair said quickly, "Not at all! I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I was just surprised that's all."

Endrin's face calmed, and she tried to smile again, but it just wouldn't come this time. Unsure of what to do now, she eventually said, "Very well, I believe you and accept your apology."

Alistair breathed a sigh of relief, "Whew, thank the Maker... I'm not sure I could take getting yelled at one more time today. I mean it, everyone seems to have it out for me to today, priests, officers, mages, other Grey Warden recruits. It's uncanny I tell you."

Endrin lifted an eyebrow again, not knowing what to make of this Alistair, she said, "Would you be offended if I told you that you are a very strange human?"

Much to Endrin's surprise, Alistair laughed rather hard, she found it to be a pleasant sound. "No." He said after the laughter subsided, "You'd be surprised just how often I'm told that, or something similar. Anyway, come with me and I'll take you to meet the other recruits."

"Lead on." Endrin complied, "Oh, and my name is Endrin by the way."

"Right, that was it." Alistair nodded, "Duncan mentioned that in his letter as well, I guess I just forgot." And with that said, he turned and started walking towards the far side of the camp.

Endrin followed a few steps behind, she shook her head quickly and mouthed to herself, 'very strange human'. Then she remembered and said louder, "Duncan said he had a meeting with-" she had completely forgot both the names, "Two people, and to tell you that he would return shortly."

As it turned out, there were three other recruits. Two dwarves, who Endrin at first thought looked identical, save that one had black hair and the other fiery red, and another elf, Endrin knew this elf was a flat-ear from the second she laid eyes on her. Endrin had met these strange city dwelling elves from time to time. On occasion she would meet one, or a whole family, on the road. Their story was always the same, they were traveling to another city to look for work. On far rarer occasions, a lone flat-eared elf would wander into her beloved Brecilian Forest looking to find the Dalish. She'd only heard of two reasons a flat-ear would look to join her people, first, he'd broken some shemlen law and fled rather than facing the dungeon and/or execution, or because they had grown disgusted with living in the squalor of shemlen cities and had made the intelligent decision to try and find the Dalish.

"Alright," Alistair said pleasantly, "Here they are." He pointed at the flat-ear, "That is Kylae, from Denerim." He motioned to the two dwarves, "And they are Dharr and Roaran... Not really sure which one is which actually, they only got here a couple hours ago along with a supply caravan from Rainesfere."

At that point, the dark haired dwarf approached Endrin and bowed politely. Endrin found that she couldn't help but stare at him, and now she understood why some of the soldiers had previously been staring so blatantly at her. She had never seen a dwarf before, and only heard a few stories about them. This dwarf barely came up to her chest height, but what he lacked in height, he seemed to make up for in sheer bulk. Almost twice as wide as an average human man, Endrin guessed this dwarf could pull a man's arms and legs off his body with only his bare hands. What really held Endrin's attention about the dwarf however was his beard, black like his hair, it fell to the middle of his chest, and was braided perfectly into four thick braids.

The dwarf spoke. "Actually I am Dharr. Formerly of the Aeducan line, but now only Dharr. It is a great honor to meet you my lady. I hope that we are both fortunate enough to become Grey Wardens."

Endrin liked Dharr immediately. He surely noticed the way she was staring at him, but was polite enough not to say anything about it. He hadn't known her name, so he had addressed her respectfully... or at least so she suspected, she had never heard the phrase 'my lady' before, and found it a bit odd, and he had the good grace to bow, even though Endrin was sure that he was someone important. She could see it in the way he held himself, and in the way he spoke. Some clan keepers and elders had the same poise about them. Endrin finally found her voice and said, "Andaran atish'an Dharr. I am Endrin of the Dalish."

Dharr flinched ever so slightly at the word 'Endrin', but instantly recomposed himself and said, "I take it those first words were an elven greeting."

"They are."

"This," Dharr swept a hand towards the red headed dwarf, "Is Roaran."

Roaran barely seemed to be aware of anything going on around him. His wide open eyes were constantly shifting from a tree, to a bird, back to the tree, up at the sky, this cloud in particular, then that cloud, then to a stray cat hoping to find some table scraps, and back the tree.

"Roaran...?" Dharr said again.

The dwarf's eyes came to focus on Dharr and Endrin for only a brief second, in which he raised two fingers in a vague attempt of a wave, and went back to his awed inspections of everything that surrounded him.

Endrin cocked an eyebrow again. "Is he always like that?"

"Not really." Dharr answered. "When we were underground he was solid as a rock. And I don't mean that ironically, absolutely nothing scared, or even startled him. But we've only been on the surface for maybe a day now, and he can't seem to get over it... Oh well... maybe he'll come around again if we get him drunk."

Endrin nodded and briefly inspected Roaran. Now that she'd had a chance to look over both dwarves, she saw that they looked nothing alike. Roaran's frame was far more slight than Dharr's, but still powerful looking. His arms were packed with muscle, but so devoid of fat, and the skin stretched so tight over him that it gave him a gaunt, half-starved look. There was a wild look in his eyes as well, and Endrin didn't think it was from being in new surroundings. She'd seen that same look before, but never on a person, it was the look an animal had when it was surrounded or cornered and realized that it only had two options: lay down and die, or fight fang and claw and maybe live another day. Roaran himself was cached with dirt and grime, and Endrin didn't want to know what else, he radiated a rather particular unwashed smell, most unattractive. His armor, if you could even call it that, was the worst and most appalling armor she had ever seen. Leather of a kind she had never seen cut so thin she doubted it would stop even a small dagger, and completely devoid of any type of design or color. Clearly not all dwarves were equal.

"And you must be Kylae." Endrin said, turning to the elf.

Kylae looked at Endrin as if she were already bored. "Yeah, what's it to ya?"

"Just trying to be friendly." Endrin said, taken back by Kylae's hostility.

"Fair 'nough." Kylae shrugged, and looked at Endrin's tattoo, "Nice ink. Must be Dalish. You people are something between a myth and a legend back in Denerim... Come to think of it, guy I sort of knew back there got himself in some trouble and ran off saying he was going to try and find you guys... now let me see... what was his name? Oh yeah, Pol. Ever hear of him?"

Endrin thought back to her last moments with the clan, not the fondest of memories for her, but she did remember a flat-ear had come to their camp, saying he'd wanted to join them. Endrin had never talked to him, but had seen him with one of the other hunters a few times, trying to learn how to fight, and track, and so on. "There was a flat-ear who came by a few days before I-"

Kylae jumped up from where she'd been sitting and glared at Endrin, if looks could kill then Endrin would be dead for sure. Kylae's voice was slow and icy as she said, "What in sod-all did you just say?"

"What do you mean?"

If it were even possible, Kylae's expression hardened even more. She turned her head sharply to the left and pulled her hair away from a pointed ear. "That look flat to you? DOES IT?!" Kylae shouted, and locked gaze with Endrin again, "Now you listen here, Dalish, and you listen good. I am not a Dalish. Yes, I have lived my whole life in a shem city, but I am not one of them. I am every bit the elf you are. The blood of Arlathan runs in my veins just as much as it does yours. Only difference between you and me is that you had the good luck to be born to free roaming elves, while I was born into near slavery to shems. You Dalish might think you're better than us city dwellers, but you would not make it one week in my shoes."

Endrin backed up a step or two, and stared wide eyed at the seething elf. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "Truly sorry, I didn't mean to offend."

"Oh, shut up already!" Kylae rolled her eyes. "Time will tell if you're sorry or not." Kylae's head suddenly jerked up, the other recruits doing the same at the sound of excited shouting and dogs barking not far off. "And what in sod-all is that?" Kylae wondered aloud, and almost instinctively started moving towards the commotion. Endrin, Alistair, and the others followed suit.

Tylis Amell was grateful when several soldiers ran forward and took the semi-conscious man from him. Tylis had found him on the road a few hours previously, more dead than alive, but somehow refusing to just lay down and give up. The injured man had had one hand wrapped around the back of what to Tylis looked to be a massive dog of some sort, and was using his other hand and knees to crawl towards Ostagar.

The injured man had been wearing what looked to be steel scale armor of fine make, or at least that's what it was once upon a time. He had no less than five arrows sticking out of him, a long curved sword stuck in stomach so that it had actually penetrated his back, and his once well-made armor was now barely hanging on him.

Tylis had offered to help of course, and in response the man had made some sort of gasping noise and nodded his head once. With the help of the dog, Tylis had managed to lay the man out in a manner that he wasn't laying on the sword nor the arrows. This is really going to hurt. Tylis had said, and was answered with a soft grunt. The man barely flinched as the first arrow was pulled from his flesh, but his eyes shot open wide when blue-white light shot from Tylis' hand, bestowing healing energy into the wound.

Mage... The man said in a barely audible whisper.

Lucky for you, yes! Tylis had answered back, before going to work on the next arrow. He repeated the process of pulling the missiles out and healing, until finally the last feathered shaft had been pulled free. Tylis looked down and counted the number of arrows he had pulled out. By the Maker! He had exclaimed, Seven arrows! How in Andraste's name could you survive seven arrows, and take a sword through the midsection, and still not be dead?

The healing Tylis had bestowed on the man had restored some of his energy, and his voice was louder and clearer when he answered, I don't know, nor do I care. I have to get to Ostagar, have to warn the king.

About what? Tylis had asked.

The man seemingly ignored him and said, Can you take the sword out?

Tylis inspected the wound once more and shook his head. I could try, but I would probably do more harm than anything else. My healing skills aren't very good.

They're good enough. The man said, Leave the sword in then, there's bound to be a spirit healer or two around Ostagar. I think I can walk if you help me. Please, you've already saved my life once, please help me get to Ostagar.

Tylis reached down and dragged the man to his feet. Hey, what's your name anyway?" Tylis had asked.

The man answered, Eebon. Eebon Cousland. This is my faithful marbari, Dune.

I would say that it's a pleasure to meet you both, but that would be a little odd considering the situation. My name is Tylis Amell, mage of the Circle, just call me Tylis.

"Wynne!" Tylis said happily, as the injured Eebon was taken away and laid down on a cot that had been hastily brought from the infirmary. "Oh, thank the Maker you're here!"

An elderly looking woman wearing golden robes, obviously another Circle mage looked at Tylis, trying to place him. "I know you." She said, trying to think of the right name. "Is it Tyler?"

"Tylis."

"Oh that's right, forgive me. I know your mentor, Leorah, she spoke very highly of you. But what are you doing here?"

"Heh," Tylis grunted, "Oh boy, is that a long story. And I think Eebon needs your help a lot more right now." No sooner had the words left his lips than a dark haired she-elf skidded to a halt at Eebon's side, a warrior with short cut hair who looked like he'd only started shaved a few weeks ago followed at a much more controlled pace.

Kylae bent over Eebon, the concern evident in her face and voice when she said, "Eebon, what happened to you? Are you okay?"

"I'll live." Eebon said bluntly, "Good to see you made it here." He glanced over at Alistair, "Hey Alistair... I think this mage is going to need some help in pulling out the sword."

Alistair came forward and laid both his hands on the sword hilt, muttering something about darkspawn weapons. When Wynne gave Alistair a subtle nod, the young man heaved and pulled the blade from Eebon's abdomen. What surprised the gathered crowd is that as the sword was pulled from his body, Eebon didn't make a sound, not even a soft moan from what should have been unbearable pain, he only clenched his jaw and curled his lips back in a silent grimace. Healing blue-white light exploded from Wynne's hands, and would-be fatal wound closed before the spellbound eyes of all gathered.

Wynne exhaled slowly, the healing wasn't really a strain for her, but it had taken more out of her than she had anticipated. How this man... Eebon, she corrected herself, could have survived so much was beyond her. He must have had the constitution of a golem, or something else was keeping him alive, and she found the second idea was not a pleasant thought. "He'll be fine." Wynne announced, "He just needs rest."

But it seemed that Eebon had another surprise in store for everyone gathered. "No." He said flatly and firmly. "I'll rest when I'm dead, but for right now I'm alive. Where is King Cailan, I need to speak with him at once!"

"He's right here." A man said, pushing his way through the crowd, he wore gleaming gold colored armor, and had an oversized sword strapped across his back. Behind him strode a very stern looking man with dark hair and very heavy looking armor, and a black haired woman who looked too young to hold such an obviously high rank.

As one, the assembled crowd dropped to one knee before their monarch, although Dharr did so with more reluctance. Roaran and Endrin however remained defiant, and refused to kneel, earning more than a few harsh stares.

"Rise." Cailan said, if he noticed the elf and dwarf who refused to bow, he gave no indication, and kept his attention trained on Eebon. "Were you ambushed, my friend? Was it darkspawn?"

Eebon nodded. "Yes your majesty, but that is not the news I have to report. Your vassal, Arl Rendon Howe has betrayed us all. He attacked my home of Highever at night while we slept, and murdered my family. My father, mother, sister-in-law, and my dear nephew are all dead. He waited until Fergus had departed with the majority of our army, then sprung his treacherous trap. Only myself, maybe two dozen servants, and a small handful of soldiers managed to escape. Lady Landra, wife to Bann Loren was at Highever, and was also killed."

The silence that fell over the crowd was so complete that one could have heard a pin drop. The king was the first to recover. "Arl Howe... it's... it's not possible. With the darkspawn invasion on our doorstep!" The king remembered himself. "Eebon, you have my sincerest condolences. Rest assured that as soon as this battle is settled I will personally see to it that Howe is brought to justice and Highever is restored to your family once more."

At the mention of family, Eebon seemed to remember, "Your majesty!" He blurted out, "I need to find Fergus immediately! Howe could have sent assassins after him as well, and there would be no better place to commit a murder than on a battlefield! Please, let me go to him, I need to warn him, and I need inform him that he is now Teryn!"

"If only that were possible." The king said sadly, "I'm afraid that Fergus is leading a scouting mission. He won't be back until after the battle."

Eebon visible sank at the news. "I... I understand, my king." Eebon looked up with red rimmed eyes. "With your leave?" King Cailan nodded, and Eebon turned and pushed his way through the crowd, Dune following close behind.

Several hours later found Eebon sitting on a cot in the infirmary. It had been Duncan's idea as he believed Eebon to be too weak to take part in the events to come, and he might have even been right, but that hadn't stopped the tidal wave of complaints that came from Eebon.

The young warrior now simply sat in silence, staring into a nearby fire. Duncan stood slightly off to one side, silently observing his subordinate, and flanked by Alistair. Duncan studied Eebon. He was amazed at the resilience of the young warrior. Only a few hours ago, Eebon had been a wreck, dirty, bloodied, and completely lost in his grief. But after a bath and a hot meal, he was seemed to be the proud young man that Duncan had recruited only six months ago.

And yet Duncan knew that the notion of Eebon being "alright" was wrong. Eebon hadn't said a word since being excused by the king, and whenever he moved, it seemed to be a mechanical action, as if there were no true thought or feeling behind it, and the fact that Eebon was conducting himself in silence was odd, and even eerie. Eebon had never been the quiet sort before. While he'd never exactly been a loud one either, he easily spoke what was on his mind, laughed easily, and was a cheerful sort of person. But now, the man who sat in front of Duncan was not Eebon, at least not the Eebon he had known previously. Eebon's body had become a shell, a shell that was holding... Duncan took a closer look into Eebon's eyes and found a quiet rage burning behind his calm exterior. Duncan had seen that same rage before. It was the unquenchable fire of combat, the desire and thrill that came with shedding the blood of an enemy. It was the fire of thousand battles past, and the anticipation of a thousand more battles to come. Yes, Duncan and seen that same rage before, in the eyes of Ash Warriors and dwarven berserkers. Whether Eebon had realized it himself or not, Duncan was certain that at the moment Eebon had been forced to leave his family and his ancestral home to be taken by Howe, it had released something that had lain dormant inside of Eebon for his entire life. Eebon had become a berserker.

"Eebon," Duncan said in his characteristically calm voice, "Tell me about this recruit you found in Denerim."

Eebon nodded without looking up at Duncan. "Her name is Kylae. I had been asking around her alienage for a while, trying to single out a good candidate for the Wardens. I had it narrowed down to her, and maybe three or four others, but then fate seemed to intervene."

On the other side of Duncan, Alistair said, "Funny how that always seems to happen? What exactly did happen?"

Still, without turning to look at either of them, Eebon continued. "By the time I found her, her wedding ceremony was already starting. But then, Arl Urien's son, Vaughan came up, drunk as a dwarf, knocked her out, and took her and several other elf girls to his father's estate."

Duncan looked skeptically at Eebon. "Please don't tell me you went after them?"

Perhaps a shred of Eebon's old humor fought its way to surface as Eebon answered. "Okay... I won't tell you." Although his words had a slight ring of sarcasm, his voice and face remained void of emotion, Eebon continued to stare into the fire. "But the bottom line is that we got her out... and only two innocent elves died in the process. One was her soon to be husband, the other was one of the elf maidens who had been dragged in there." Eebon finally glanced at Duncan as he said, "If it means anything, Commander, I didn't kill anyone myself. I might have dropped a sword and a crossbow where they were easily picked up, but Kylae and Soris, erm, that's her cousin, did all the killing. And I don't think Kylae will ever let me forget this, but I wouldn't let her kill Vaughan... did let her beat the living hell out of him."

Duncan sighed tiredly and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and index finger. "Well, I suppose you didn't directly involve yourself in what happened, so with that in mind we can avoid the public flogging." Alistair smirked at that comment, Eebon remained stoic as stone. "Wait a minute... would that be Kylae Tabris?"

Eebon nodded silently.

"I knew her mother." Duncan said with a hint of sadness. "Good woman, better fighter. The woman was a real nightmare when she had her daggers out. Almost recruited her myself." He glanced at Eebon again, who was back to staring absently into the fire. "So why didn't you come straight back to Ostagar with her?"

Eebon's upper lip curled back in a snarl, although his anger was not directed at his leader. "Because with so few Wardens in Ferelden, and without the king's army at full strength, I didn't put our chances of survival very high. I wanted to see my family again."

"I'm sorry Eebon." Duncan rested a hand on the shoulder of his subordinate and friend. "So very sorry."

Eebon ignored both the gesture and comment.