By the River of Drakon...

"All I will ever be is a weapon," nodded Griffinhart. He did not remember ever being anything more, nor wanting to be anything more. A simple life, killing darkspawn in the service of the Gray. Sometimes killing more than darkspawn, because it wasn't only darkspawn that threatened the Wardens. He did his killing, against darkspawn and against those worse than darkspawn, with equal coldness - Griffinhart took lives with the same ease as he breathed, and bore his duties as he did his hatred: with pride and without protest. It was his life, as he remembered it.

Fire flashed against the snow, and lopped off his right arm. Razors lashed against bone, and torched off his left. But Death strode with speed, and could not be stopped.

"I was a weapon in the hands of the Wardens of the Anderfels. I am a weapon in the hands of the Wardens of Ferelden. Such are my orders."

"Only a weapon?" Nygozy played with Fenrir's paws, wiggling them as she held the toes and smiling at the little one's antics, "You must have been something more than a weapon at least as a child. I suppose you do not remember those days?"

She kept her eyes on the pup as she figured that Griffinhart had some bad history which removed all interest in ever being anything but a weapon. It was the only thing she could see as he showed little to no emotion, felt dark in an uncanny manner that was not evil but directed like any other weapon. If it had been due to other things there would be a lot more emotion showing.

"No," Griffinhart shook his head, "I do not remember those days." He paused - hesitated - the words choked back for a moment - did he dare say it? - He knew he had to. He had committed the words simply by simply thinking them. And once committed, you had to follow through. There was no going back, so move forward, with all your being and all your weapons brought to bear. But here, he was unarmed.

No matter. He did not need weapons to kill - he was a weapon.

"I do not remember much."

There. It was not done, but it had begun all the same.

"But I remember the ways of killing, and I remember my oath to the Gray Wardens. I do not need to remember much else."

Even your weaknesses become your strengths. There lay a ghost in his memory, phantasmal words he did not remember hearing. The warrior thought back to that night, at the campfire... "You cannot remember what never happened."

A lot of things had "never happened" in his experience.

Fenrir panted and barked in Nygozy's arms, delighted with all the atenttion he was getting from her, and he licked her fingers and hands and every inch of skin or clothes he could get.

Playing, he rolled over and trotted around them, waving his little tail, and finally he started to sniff at Griffinhart, even standing on his back legs to reach his knees and more, still waving his tail

"You know ... sometimes I wish I did not remember much either. Sad, isn't it?" Why in the stone was she opening up to this man a bit? Maybe she felt a kindred pain with having a painful path.

Nygozy stood as she watched Fenrir looking for attention from the man, deciding to see what he did, "I remember too much of what has been done in one belief or another. There is always too much pain, too much mis-communication and fights on how to do things not to mention those who pretend. Ill will and treachery. Is that all we can hope for?"

Stop. You are rambling now, starting to sound like Jezarine. If you don't watch out you will be sitting by the fire with them talking at a mile a second and making everyone else look at you like you are a complete lunatic instead of just a partial one. That did not sound like a pleasant concept. Those two were cute when they did that but Nygozy believed that if she did then she would not look cute.

"Some say it is all about trust when it comes to working with others but I believe it is more about respect."

Griffinhart kept his silence as Nygozy spoke, out of politeness, out of respect for her command, and most of all, simply because he did not know what to say. They tread now on alien territory, and he would not act without analysis. Such was his way. The silence crept in as he thought of words to say - he did not know what he wanted to say, and so instead tried to think of what she wanted him to say; and he failed at that endeavor as well. The dog played at his foot, pressing its weight in full, but the warrior stood as stable as a mountain, and did not notice it in his thoughts.

Finally, something came to mind.

"I... do not know about hope. I swore an oath and sacrificed myself for the sake of destroying darkspawn, so that others would have hope in my place. I only know how to fight against hopelessness."

But trust? And respect? He know of those things. He knew all too well about those things... even if he did not know how he knew. Those were killing words. Words that could bring men to killing, and bring killing to men. They were risky words, there for a moment, gone in an instant. A single slight, and everything could be undone. "Like the tree," recalled Griffinhart, inwardly. Outwardly, he had something else to say. "I respect your station, Commander. And I trust in your commands. That is why, if you ordered me to stand against a Blight on my own, I would do it without question, because I trust that you have a reason for sacrificing my life. That it is a good reason."

Were those the words she wanted to hear, he wondered? He did not see the reason, if so - these were basic truths. He had just as easily said "the water is cold" a short while ago.

"I am a weapon, bound by oath and order to the service of the Gray Wardens of Weisshaupt Fortress, and to your service by their orders. I do not know what more you want me to tell you."

Nygozy watched as Griffinhart tried to come up with something to say and waited patiently as the silence went on and on. That was no problem. She was used to waiting and letting her mind wander to consider what to do next. Yet when he finally spoke it seemed that he was unsure of something but what it was made her wonder. There was more to him than what met the eye, something deep and painful creating a whole dark persona. It was difficult to figure out what exactly could be said to learn any more of the man within as that person seemed to be swallowed by the will to get rid of evil, to be used as a force that did not care of it's own life.

"That is not something I would like to do, or ever have liked doing. Sending people to what was likely to be certain death is never an easy task. It is why I tend to do things myself with my group." She shrugged, "Yet it is something I will have to do now and again in order to save our people. You probably do much better to be a weapon rather than anything else. There is no sense of betrayal in your heart for what you may have to tell others to do."

Gulls cried at the sky, looking for some form of food as Nygozy picked Fenrir back up, "I am sorry to have asked you questions you could not answer. I wanted to know more of you and your past so I could find where you would fit best within this outfit. There will be constant change for some time to come in order to get everything sorted out. I have need of your abilities and your support and am happy to see that I have it."

((sorry I've been dense today thinking I already posted here because I'd made the post but I guess it didn't go through. I'll watch better next time.))

Griffinhart nodded at the Warden-Commander's words. He understood now, and knew what to say - or rather, knew that he had already said what needed saying. "There is nothing for you to apologize for, Commander. You are not at fault for my lack of knowledge," began the stoic Warden. "I am a weapon, Commander. Use me to incapacitate, to maim, to torture, and to kill. Use me alone, or in concordance with other weapons. But I am not like you, Commander - I can not sacrifice a life for the sake of other lives. That is not my station and it is not my way. I die first, so that your enemies die with me, so that you and the others may live."

In death, sacrifice. That was part of the Gray Wardens' motto, equally important as the parts the preceded it. Griffinhart had made peace with the motto long before his Joining, and knew that, when the time came for it, he would make the sacrifice without hesitance. He would do it without question. But it was a part that many other Wardens fought against, he knew.

But how did you know?

[OOC: Meh. I didn't have much time to make a post in the past few hours; nothing was lost. No need to apologize.]

"I did not know that you were capable of torture. There are many who do not have the stomach for such things but I suppose you are not one." She rubbed her forehead and let out a breath of air. Torture. Yes, she had named her Mabari that but she seldom allowed her dog to do what could be considered torture, even though she had used that talent a couple of times when she had no other choice. Then again you could say that the dog tortured the group she had been with leaving them slobbering presents and peeing on their tents to mark his territory so that no other animal would come near them.

This was a predicament that she did not ever wish to be in but felt that there would be times when it would be required, "I shall remember that information for if I ever require those skills. Thank you for informing me of that. It is good to know what I can call upon one to do."

Nygozy closed her eyes then sighed, "Unfortunately for my sense of peace, it is my job to do. As I said, I would prefer to be on the front lines the same as you and the others but that is not my place. All I can hope for is that I make the right decisions and ones in which minimizes the loss of life to our people."

"I can only break bodies, Commander. For most, that - or the threat of it - is sufficient. But some people have no care for their body. I cannot break minds," stated Griffinhart. Breaking a mind required arduous study, and time, and most of all, familiarity. The swordsman did not seem to be (and indeed, was not) the type to get familiar with his enemies - or anyone else, for that matter.

Behind the inscrutable face-plate of his helmet, the warrior cast his eyes downwards at Nygozy's quiet dissatisfaction with the duties of her station. "No one lives forever, Commander. We will die whether or not you send us to die. It is better that our deaths have meaning." From anyone else, those would have been melancholy words. Perhaps, from Griffinhart, they still were. But if there was any sadness in his voice, it did not show. The way he said it, it only spoke of his single-minded nature: efficiency. Even in death.

Especially in death.

"Normally, in our profession breaking bodies would be suitable. If anything else were required I would find someone more suited to that process. I do not forsee a use for this talent, or wish to see one, but we always have to be diligent and use the weapons available to us for the good of others."

Nygozy took a deep breath, "You are correct but I still do not like using people in such a manner. However, all who come to be wardens make their choice to be such and take the oath."

But she still did not feel fully satisfied with that thought as she remembered Ser Jory's death. The man had no idea what he was getting into, just that it was an honour to be a Grey Warden. He did not know how much of his life would be taken with this or that he would probably have to choose between his wife and child and the wardens. Even though she respected Duncan, in her mind Sir Jory's death was uncalled for. It was noticeable that he would not fit in the wardens' ranks and should have been sent away. At least in her mind this was true. Why waste a life you know should not be there?

Betrayal here lies.

Griffinhart shook his head at the Commander's words. "Would that we all keep our oaths." Not every Warden was at peace with their fate, and he knew that no one but the Wardens knew that fate. The Wardens made sure of such things. He had made sure of such things, with the same surety of hand and hate as he had felled any other darkspawn. Such was Griffinhart's way in the world - either you followed orders, or you deserted. There was no mercy down either path. Not for him.

Frost would eat the graves, with Time. But the memories would always persist, would always lie herein.

Would always lie.