Conspectu

"Well don't just stand there gawking, help me up!"

Alistair's shock almost managed to pass as feigned. "Why yes, of course my lady; that was remiss of me."

He leaned down and hesitated a moment, looking at Celestine's rock-encased arm before he shook his head slightly and gripped her, hauling her to her feet. The rock was strangely warm under his hands and crumbled off as soon as he let go. The pair turned back to the room to see Erik warily eyeing the patrons that were still in the building. To their surprise, the Chantry Sister that had tried to involve herself earlier was between the corpses of the first two men that had gone down, her habit having a large blood stain down the right of her chest. It seemed not to be hers,however, as it was neither growing larger, nor was she displaying the symptoms of someone who had lost that much blood. Celestine noted that the woman's sleeves also bore slight blood splatters as the redhead seemed to be kneeling, praying penitently.

Morrigan was leaning against the bar, inspecting the contents of a tumbler, the angling down of the corner of her lips the only indicator of her disgust.

The Chantry Sister straightened up, beaming at the companions. "You said you were Grey Wardens, no?"

"Yeeeees, as the newly formed pools of blood may testify to," Alistair drawled.

"As Wardens, you fight the Blight?"

"It is the duty of all Wardens to drive back the darkspawn, whether it be a Blight or no, my lady." Erik answered, his tone no longer as cold as it had been when he addressed Loghain's men, yet still even.

"While none of us actually admitted to being Wardens until now, may I ask why you wish to know? I'd prefer not having a similar encounter as we just had again." Celestine said before the redhead could say anything in response to Erik.

The Chantry Sister looked at Celestine, her pale grey eyes studying in a manner that belied the almost carefree and melodious voice. Then her expression turned serious. "I wish to join you." Her former bubbly behaviour was now solemn.

Alistair looked at her with a brow raised, "You do realise that we're not on some picnic, right? Wardens fighting a Blight means taint, darkspawn and death. Lots of…death…." His former humour vanished as his eyes grew distant. Celestine put a hand on his shoulder, like she had with Elisa and it seemed to bring him back to his senses. "Of course, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't curious why a Chantry Sister would want to fight - never mind darkspawn."

"Not all of us have lived our whole lives in the Chantry, you know? Some of us have a more…worldly past." Saying this, the redhead looked at the bodies of the two men just behind her. "Lives we may no longer wish to lead. But I digress," she almost instantaneously changed back to the beaming girl from before, "I wish to join you because I believe it is the Maker's will for me to do so."

"Riiight," Alistair drawled, "because it's that easy: 'Hi, look here, I got a missive from the Maker telling me to kill evil things.'" He paused thinking. "Mind you, that does sound somewhat plausible. More likely if one were to stand near the incense braziers for too long, but plausible."

Celestine smiled quietly at her recruiter's antics, but then turned to the Sister. "While most of us appreciate Alistair's interesting way of expressing himself, I have to point out that he makes a fair point. What makes you think that this is something the Maker wishes for you to do, or at least why you in particular. I'm pretty sure I was chosen due to a series of very, uh, something, events. Dramatic?"

The Chantry Sister nodded, her head bobbing enthusiastically with the gesture. "Of course you are right, and have cause to want to know and be suspicious. But may I ask that we can speak somewhere…less likely to be charged by angry Templars?"

Erik huffed. "Yes, I suspect they will be none too pleased when they hear of this altercation."

He had just finished speaking when the door was kicked open.

~o~

Samantha Trevelyan was sitting on her cot in the bare room. It was a communal sleeping area for the Tranquil, and since none of them had any need for personal effects or creature comforts the room was inhumanly spartan.

The roof was low and flat, no need for vast arching ceilings where no one would appreciate them. Every Tranquil was assigned four square meters of space, enough for a cot and a trunk for clothes and any possessions they might have, which if any, were few.

Most of the Tranquil were still out, as it was early in the evening, dinner for the mages and templars just having been served. But she was not alone; there were one or two others already sleeping. She would soon be too, the only thing still keeping her up the cataloguing of the day's events as was her routine. Not that they were ever different, apart from what the First Enchanter actually did; her roles and duties remained pretty much the same.

There was a grunt several cots over and several other small noises - nothing new, merely Ser Yorthal having his way with Naitri again. Samantha may have cared once, she may have been disgusted, she may have been aroused, but as she was, she was nothing, she was Tranquil. Just as Naitri was, who bore the templar's rough affections without complaint. Samantha catalogued that as well.

But then something changed. A small thing, but it was different from her routine. She heard footfalls outside the door. She heard the door burst open, the sudden brighter light from the corridor momentarily blinding her. Her eyes adjusted just in time to see two templars dragging out Ser Yorthal, who was shouting and struggling, his breeches still twisted about his legs under the skirts of his armour effectively making his struggle that much harder.

Presiding over these events was Knight-Commander Travis, his eyes hard as he watched his former brother of the Order get dragged away. After the man disappeared around a corner, Ser Travis nodded at a mage hovering at his elbow, who went down to Naitri to ensure there would be no lasting damage.

The Templar turned away from the scene, a look of disgust on his face. His eyes roamed the small room, eventually settling on Samantha. A look of surprise flashed over his features, which he quickly schooled to be impassive again. Samantha wondered what the Templar was being so cautious for. He was the head of the Order in Ostwick; no Tranquil would ever be able to go against him. Those sundered from the Fade would die before breaking rules. Samantha catalogued this as well.

"Martin, finish up there, I need to have that rutting animal dealt with and Aonar normally prefers to have a letter accompany prisoners," Travis ordered, his voice gruff.

"Yes, Knight-Commander, fortunately she seems not to have gotten too badly hurt and the fool managed to avoid causing…other complications."

"Good, the First Enchanter's pet, Trevelyan, is here. I don't quite trust that man's research."

The room was once more bathed in darkness as the door slammed shut behind the mage and Templar as they left. Naitri climbed back on her cot from where the mage had treated her and seemed to fall asleep almost instantly.

Samantha was once again alone; the only sign that there were other occupants in the room being the soft sigh of several sets of lungs breathing. There was no muttering or rolling, no shifting or sighing, there was not even snoring. The Tranquil slept, but they did not dream. Samantha catalogued this and then joined them.

~o~

The door was kicked open so hard that it bounced right back off the wall, knocking into the person who had opened it. This was followed by muffled swearing as the door opened again, slower this time, to reveal Hawke.

The Wardens gathered in the centre of the inn visibly relaxed, letting go of sword grips and staff hafts.

"Maferath's monstrous earlobes, fucking doors have it out for me!" Celestine's cousin exclaimed as the stalked into the room, rubbing the side of her head, which was already sporting a growing bruise.

"Sorana!" There was a blur across the room as Celestine hurtled into the other woman, almost knocking her over. "I thought I'd lost you when we heard about Ostagar."

"Easy there, love. We made it out by the skin of our teeth, thanks to my sneaky shenanigans," she looked over her shoulder to someone outside the door, "and Carver had a good idea for once. But don't tell him that, it'll go straight to his head."

The powerful man they had seen with Hawke at the tower walked into the room, pulling someone behind him. "I heard that you know, and something going to someone's head? That's as rich as Antivan cuisine coming from you."

"What? Nonsense! I'm the best thing that ever existed. Nothing can get to my head, things that would are merely true and I humbly accept any such compliments."

The man groaned, Celestine was sure he would have face-palmed were he not manhandling someone. This someone he promptly pushed to the ground as soon as he had made it past her cousin. He was followed in by Elisa, who was looking bemused, but waved at them as she spotted them and slid past Carver, careful not to step on his former burden as she came to stand next to her brother.

Which was when Hawke marched up to Alistair and started poking his cuirass with an authoritative finger. "I told you to take care of my cousin." Each word was emphasised by a tap, with so much power behind them that it actually caused the armoured man to sway a bit as he tried to maintain his ground.

"I'm sorry." He dragged out the word far longer than was necessary, "It all happened too fast! It won't happen again! I swear it on my love for cheese."

"Hmph, well. So long as I don't see a bigass cut down her face the next time we meet. Or you'll be needing a face, do I make myself clear?!"

"Yes, Ser! Those are entirely agreeable terms!"

Celestine was trying to hide her smile as her relative railed at her companion, when she heard a snort from where Carver was standing. "So you're this 'cousin' she's been going on about. Suppose that makes you mine too; Carver Hawke." He reached out a hand to her, which she shook. He had a powerful grip.

"This schmuck on the ground ran into us as we were about to enter, screaming like there was a legion of demons clawing at his legs." Carver nudged the man on the ground, who whimpered, curled up, and started quivering.

"In reality, no, but in his mind? Oh you have no idea." This was said by Morrigan, who had a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

Carver looked at her, his golden eyes piercing as they narrowed, inspecting the witch. "Is that so?"

Unsure of what to do with the man, they let him go with a warning for Loghain: that the Grey Wardens knew of his treachery and would have him face the consequences of his actions.

The party – now almost doubled in size – gratefully left the inn and its newly stained floors. The Chantry Sister dropped a large bag of gold on the counter to pay for the damages, garnering several questioning looks, to which she just smiled. The group then followed after Hawke, who said that their family's home was nearby and could accommodate them for the night.