rivain | the lone warden

WHO: Blackwall, Iona Lavellan
WHERE: Hinterlands > Haven
WHEN: Fuzzy time, whenever Lavellan decides to recruit him
WARNINGS: TBA, although swearing is always a thing with Blackwall. Spoilers for Blackwall's companion quests, etc
NOTES: TBA

Those thugs weren't exactly what Blackwall had in mind for the day. He had wanted a nice, quiet day by the lake to train and think. That wasn't what he'd gotten. The recruits did well in taking his advice to heart at least. Blackwall can be sure that they won't fall prey to the same trick again. Letting them return to their families with their honor and dignity in tact, and with whatever had been stolen from them, is more important than a day spent alone.

It makes him think, though, about what his life had once been. About how things could have been if the real Warden Blackwall hadn't found him holed up in that pub. Maybe he would have been one of these thugs, fallen prey to regret and anger and bitterness with nothing and no one to help save a life that was no life. This life isn't much better right now, but it's something. Borne of a sacrifice a man once called Thom Rainier won't forget.

But if he starts calling himself the Fake Blackwall, he'll forget everything and stop trying to hide and where would that leave him?

Of course, finding an agent of the Inquisition was also not on his to do list for the day, but such things can't be predicted or helped. It makes him nervous, being this close to a driving force that even he hasn't been tucked away enough not to hear about. Especially one asking about a group of people he knows nothing about. Still, somehow he manages and decides that maybe... maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try to help. That's what he's supposed to be doing now, isn't it?

"If you're trying to put things right, maybe you need a warden. Maybe you need me."

Nothing for it but to wait to see. The Inquisition is recruiting just as much as anyone else, maybe even more so. Surely they wouldn't turn him down now...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Blackwall isn’t exactly what Iona expected. (Although she’s pretty sure she’s probably not what people expect, either.) She’s not entirely sure what she did expect, though. Or whether Leliana expected her to just outright recruit him. It makes sense, though; whatever is going on with the Grey Wardens, having one of their order working with the Inquisition might prove useful. She nods, eyeing him thoughtfully. “Maybe I do.”

There’s no maybe about it, really. She doesn’t know much at all about the Wardens. Recruiting him helps to cover the gaps in her knowledge. Makes sure she’s as informed as she can possibly be in the future. And adds an accomplished warrior to their number. She cannot fight the Elder One alone.

Well then. She knows her answer. “Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer.”

It takes a lot out of him not to make any kind of reaction to the acceptance. No relief crosses his face, despite how much he feels pouring out of him anyway. He has to keep up appearances and for all anyone needs to know, he is Warden Blackwall. That's the only person worth remembering right now.

"Right. I'll do whatever I can to help the Inquisition," he promises. But first thing's first: "Where are we headed first?"

Mostly so he knows what to expect. With a little luck, they won't be headed anywhere really crowded like, oh, Orlais or something. There's a reason he's been keeping low here in the Hinterlands and it has nothing to do with the lack of a Blight.

“Where aren’t we headed,” she retorts, a little amused. But it’s the truth. She will be travelling all over Thedas doing everything she can to aid the Inquisition. And put the green glowing pain in her ass to good use. “But to begin, we have an appointment with some mercenaries on the Storm Coast that are interested in aiding the Inquisition. And the mages in Redcliffe. Also for reasons involving the Inquisition.”

And in between, working on raising the Inquisition’s reputation. Renown. So they have the clout to see those they need to, weight behind their words. Weight enough that they’ll listen. Even to an elf.

Despite their rather abrupt meeting, Blackwall can't help but be amused by her joke. It's true, all things considered. The Inquisition likely will be headed everywhere, but all the same he had been asking about the most immediate destination.

"If you have need of a sword and shield, I'll accompany you," he offers easily. The least he can do is make the offer to aid now that he's officially part of their organization. "It's the least I can do to help. If the goal is to put to rights everything that's gone wrong, I'm in."

He's a good traveler, too, and doesn't complain. Anything the Inquisition leader decides to put him to can't be any worse than what his mind has already put him to.

“I can always use another sword by my side,” she tells him. And she means it. She will not turn him away if he should wish to join them on the next leg of their journey. There’s a flicker of a wry smile on her lips. “Saving the bloody world, yeah.” Or she’ll die trying, in all likelihood. The Herald of bloody Andraste. She doesn’t know what they were thinking. Eventually maybe they’ll listen to her when she points out the ears.

“Gather what you need. We should start for the Storm Coast sooner rather than later.”

He has little to his name now, hasn’t had much of anything in years. So getting his things together won’t take long at all. In fact, it’s mostly just enough to fit in a burlap bag and not much more. Clothes, a few equipment items, potions, and whatever else he needs to keep his sword and shield in top shape. It’s the least he can do for the man they really belong to.

Pushing that aside, he comes back out of the little cabin with everything he could need and then hesitates. “If there’s anything else inside, you’re free to take it. I’ve some food that might help your supplies.” Assuming they even need that. The Inquisition may be new, but it’s growing in numbers. Still, given the current state of the Hinterlands, Blackwall guesses that supplies are in high demand at the moment.

“Ready to save the fucking world,” is his next comment and it’s followed by a wry grin. Something tells him he’ll get along quite well with her. “Whenever you’re all ready to head for the Storm Coast, so am I.”

“There are refugees at the Crossroads that could use those supplies,” she tells him. They’d supplied them with rams, but a little more couldn’t hurt. “I’ll send an Inquisition officer here to make sure they get to them.” It’s the least she can do.

His comment earns him an amused smirk. Yes, he’ll do. “Well, come on, then. Let’s go.” No sense in lingering. There’s far too much to do. And they shouldn’t keep the mercenaries waiting.

He nods at her suggestion. Though he hasn't been involved in helping the refugees or whatever fucking war is going on out there, he doesn't mind doing so now. It can't hurt and better that than everything go to waste and people die.

Either way, whenever the Inquisition team gets ready to go, he follows. Somewhere along the way he discovers that the one who recruited him is the one everyone's been calling the Herald of Andraste. That's a title and a half. Either it's intimidating or empowering and he's interested to find out which, what kind of leader she really is.

He doesn't say much as he follows her to the Storm Coast. The group they pick up there isn't one he would have predicted, but they're good and he knows the Inquisition can use as many people as possible. The more bodies, the better. Preferably of the still living variety. It's only after that excursion that he finally feels as though he has a chance to breathe. Back in Haven, he takes up in the stable, by the horses and armory. Horses he understands and this way he's more out of the way and less likely to run into anyone who might recognize him. It's there, under the overhang and with the heavy pounding of metal on metal, that Lavellan will find him again, with his hands twisting slowly around each other in front of him and his attention straight up at the hole in the sky.

the lone warden

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