![]() The blade was as scavenged as his armor, although he never talked about how he’d come by either, even when Daveth had tried to weasel the information out into the open. He had a two handed sword nearly as large as his entire body strapped on his back, and preferred close range brute force over guile and ranged weapons. Like the duel side of the same coin, Marrke was quieter, almost melancholy, with a rounded face, prominent black goatee, and brilliant crystal blue eyes. He shrugged, “aren’t we?” They had been brought to Ostagar by Duncan ahead of Audrie from Denerim, both creating havoc in their own way, and were intended to go through the Joining ritual with her. Daveth shot him an exasperated look to let his companion know that attitude made him sound too old and boring. “Aren’t we supposed to fight Darkspawn?” he asked pointedly. Not all of them were sons of Arls with full suits of armor at their disposal, and most joined with the clothes on their backs. A thin helm nearly swallowed his eyebrows, but Grey Wardens came from a tremendous variety of backgrounds. Marrke, in contrast, was short and clad in piecemeal armor which was intended for someone with a larger frame than he bore. “Alistair says he’s seen paintings of some, but I reckon I’d rather have one breathing and next to me than looking at some dusty picture hanging on a wall.” “You ever notice how there’s no women in the Wardens?”ĭaveth had dark, short hair which swept back from a handsome, mischievous young face, a bow on his back, and the light leather armor favored by those who needed to be quick because trouble nipped constantly at their heels. Without anything to liberate from a careless owner, he was left with his second top pursuit. Evidently that applied even when they were drunk, but it had seemed like an easy mark at the time. The soldiers were sharper in the camp than the fat, sleepy nobility had been milling carelessly through the streets of Denerim. Duncan had already pulled him aside the moment the old bugger set his boots back into camp, insisting Daveth’s “practicing” needed to curtailed so he didn’t get caught again. “I’m hoping the next one is a comely lass with golden hair and terrible eyesight,” he joked as his head turned to track a soldier in particularly fine armor who strolled by. They were more tempting than ripe fruit dangling from a tree in summer, and would satiate a much more intense itch. It was the best way to keep them out of trouble, along with putting his delightfully devious mind to work on something other than the purses jingling around them. ![]() “So what do you think the next recruit will be like?” Daveth pondered aloud as he casually leaned with his back against wagon full of hay and hooked his thumbs into his belt. As she wandered almost obliviously down a stone ramp, she became the topic of discussion between two other men. Audrie’s meandering about the ruin had not gone unnoticed by other curious eyes. ![]()
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