Regrets in Wardens' Home

The panther-like man had rushed the red-head, and within a moment, had reached out to strike at the golden-haired woman as well. She held her breath, watching with bright eyes as they twisted together like vines, all three of them rippling muscle and grace and power, and she almost didn't realize that her chance had come. But her thoughts caught up with the vision reflecting in her eyes, and she moved now, while they were distracted by each other. With a quick twist and a gentle pull on the woven picture of men dying and their hounds baying over them, she lifted herself up, and a light step onto the wooden beams - just as old and sleeping as the massive slabs in the door - brought her up and over the action this time. She settled there, comfortable as a beast in her canopy nest, and watched.

The crescendo of the fight was fast and hard, the last clashing of the three bodies a lively and violent choreography with three distinct acts. The one with the rose vallaslin roiled in the panther's grasp, fighting it with a desperate sort of control, her instinct to be free melding with her desire to strike, until she landed a blow that she had not intended but which did its job all the same. She could see the way the panther's back went rigid at the contact, so miniscule it could have been a reaction, instead, to the golden head's elbow, which buried itself in the harder expanse of his stomach. Rose, Panther, and Cat held still, the frozen breath when the world is quite before jumping from a large height, and then it was over. The panther was stepping back, his weight on his knee, and the women fell out of his hold as quickly as they could manage, freeing themselves with a few extra steps of space between them and their partner.

Then there were words, sounds that were not sounds of instruction or command, and she cocked her head, shifting in her crouch to get a better look at the eyes that met her own surely and steadily, thought he could not have seen her directly from where he was standing.

She smiled. She remembered the scene too, a mere instant in the infinite expanse of shifting shapes that was her memory and yet vivid all the same.

She dropped down from her perch in the rafters, landing lightly with the softest burst of magic under her feet, and she smiled again, a smile that the three dancers could see. Her intentions were innocent, and the panther knew her, but this clan was wary and careful, and perhaps a friendly visage would put them more at ease.

"Hello, Raphael Griffinhart." She remembered the name the panther had given her. "And hello to your companions. You danced beautifully." Gathered skirts brushed against the tops of her bare feet as she swayed in place to the memory of the music they had made. Her eyes looked to each woman in turn, lingering for long, unblinking moments, and then found their way back to the pale, scarred face. "Forgive us for interrupting. You did not have to stop on our account."

"You are far from your forest," Griffinhart noted, but nodded in acknowledgement of the strange elf-girl's words ("We?" he wondered; the word was strange - it implied that he had acknowledged more than just the one - but he did not pry). He had watched her movements with interest, for their last meeting had not afforded him the same opportunities and focus. She had a certitude of grace, not unlike his own, but there was not the same weight that drove it. The warrior wondered for a moment how she would fight - if she fought at all. She certainly danced, that much was sure, unless his memories had gone to pieces in the intervening days.

The brief moment disappeared into history as Griffinhart turned his attention to his sparring partners and caught their words. Satisfaction rose within him, though outwardly there was no change to his expressions or motions - they had found the session useful, and it was something he had done with his own volition, without being ordered to. This had been more than just "a job well done", but was, in its own right, "its own reward". Still, there were words to be had. He was not a teacher, but he could judge enough. "Fight to your strength," reiterated the war-worn Warden, "and to your opponent's weaknesses. I am both strong and fast, but I am only one man. It is not enough that you fight against me; you must fight with yourselves."

He looked at Fremelda, recalling her techniques. "You strike fast and know a body's weaknesses; but our first fight showed you that I am just as fast. You succeeded when you had surprise on your side; you must relent when surprise is gone. Tenacity is admirable, but cannot defeat an equal or greater foe." Griffinhart turned to one of the training dummies and demonstrated. This one had been constructed in such a way that its arms would flail wildly in the estimated direction of a striker to try and catch them in retaliation for an attack; though it was not the most accurate such dummy, it suited the purpose well enough. Griffinhart circled around the dummy and stepped swiftly into range, his movements now quicker and lighter than his previous direct approach on Fremelda, and delivered a spearhand into the neck-joint. Even as the dummy slammed forward and its arms came back, Griffinhart danced out of reach and moved to the front, waiting for a breath as the mannequin rocked backwards. As it returned forward, he lashed out with a front kick to the solar plexus-equivalent, reversing the dummy's motion and pushing off his grounded foot at the same time, rolling into a back handspring, putting himself well out of melee range - a flashy technique unlike his usual repertoire, but worked well in unarmed combat. This continued for three more strikes - each time, he delivered a blow to a critical point, but danced out of range and did not persist in attacking. It was not cowardice to relent and give the enemy a moment to think; it was genius to know what they were going to think, and turn that against them.

Griffinhart turned and looked at Fremelda and Tatsoo, looking for comprehension. His vision focused next on Tatsoo, locking his pale blue-green eyes onto her own brown orbs, the color of well-kept honey, and he spoke. "You strike hard and know a body's balance; but our first fight showed you that I can fight off my feet. You succeeded when you tricked me; but no trick works more than twice. Sometimes, it is better to be straightforward than to let your foe make a liar out of you." He turned again to the countering dummy and took up a boxer's stance, not unlike the one that Fremelda had used in their first fight. Griffinhart stepped into range of the dummy - and kneed it in the side. As its arms came in to strike him, instead of using his arms to strike the dummy preemptively, Griffinhart framed them outwards, catching the wooden limbs with his powerful forearms. Almost instinctively, his head snapped forward, slamming into the dummy's "face". Finally, practically as an afterthought, Griffinhart dropped his knee from the dummy's side and punished it with a succession of blows to the chest. And so Griffinhart had demonstrated the acts to every trick: the pledge. The turn. The prestige. And finally, his own addendum: the punishment. The Chasind woman had three of those acts well-formed; it was the fourth that needed practicing.

He turned once again to his audience, but as he did so, the Warden's face grew ponderous. There was been another lesson in there, one he had been taught many years ago. He tapped his temple with a finger. "You are more than just your hands and feet."

A rustling and the scent of the one within the rafters had the honey golden lass curious as ever. The woman settled down onto the floor in such a gentle, graceful manner that it could only be magic induced to land like that. The skirts ruffled about and this woman spoke to Griffinhart. His first name was Rafael? She had not known that as the commander called him by his last name. It was strange because she used everyone else's first name. What was the reason or should it matter?

Tatsoo gave a courteous incline of her head towards the woman and because Griffinhart took her as no threat the young woman decided to give her the same respect, "Avai deyas nete giseir." She spoke a greeting in her own tongue, "Fair wind bring friend. Ah'm happy ta meet ye ... miss? Ah be Tatsoo."

By then Griffinhart was back to showing them about what to do by using the dummies once again. Tatsoo watched with interest, her eyes following every move as he pummeled them in strong form. She was still but she licked her lips as she thought of these moves being used for hunting and fighting. Yes, she wanted to know more and she had to continue to learn. There was nothing wrong with learning and it was something her clan had always instilled into her. Learn and learn more. That way you can hunt and fight better. They could not teach her the shaman's tricks but this she could do.

The next step was to indicate to her more of what she should learn and her mind continued to work with what he was showing and continued to pull in all she could. It was all good points and incredibly helpful ideas to use.

"Ah will rememba, Rafayel." Her first try at his first name did not come out right so she tried to voice it out under her breath, her brows angled down as she concentrated then tried the whole name, "Rafeyel Greivenart." She sighed, "Ah have ta practice dat as well ah think."

Fremelda was wary of the elf shapeshifter who walked among them, and also spoke with a 'we', implying she may be possessed by a demon. The Assassin didn't much care, really. The girl was easy enough on the eyes, but magic always made her uneasy. She folded her arms under her chest, smiling with amusement at Tatsoo's failed attempts to pronounce Griffinhart's first name properly. Aside from that, she kept both eyes on the newcomer, who she barely saw in the camp on their way to the Keep. "So you were just in the neighbourhood, I assume?" she asked.

"We are," she acknowledge with a nod, a small and sad smile the only indication that the separation was felt as deeply as it was. This place of stone and long-dead wood was a far cry from her forest home, but there was no reason for despair - where there was a clan, there was happiness, no matter where they camped, and the woods that closed in around the rock fortress was near enough that she could hear it in her heart, and she took comfort in it. Even when she felt separated from that place, she could also simply turn inward and listen to the voices that lingered in the castle, occupying the negative spaces where the waking dream was thin and alive with songs both benevolent and sinister. "But we are not alone, regardless."

With a careful step, she moved around the panther warrior, watching as he gave instructions to his proteges, and she waited on the outskirts as he moved on to another demonstration, less of a dance this time as the performers dwindled down to one, the rose and cat watching and absorbing his lesson.

He commanded the Rose's attention first, offering wisdom she only partially understood. "Fighting" was not something she understood anymore, and she wondered if she had ever understood it. Defense she understood, though, and from there she could grasp what it was the panther was attempting to impart on the rose. Even so, she failed to grasp why he was directing the force of his blows on a construct of wood and wiring - it proved to be no threat and had instigated no violence. Undoubtedly it was just one more aspect of this world that she did not understand - whether she would eventually understand or not was another matter.

While the Rose was occupied with her lesson, the golden-haired cat addressed her, and she turned a dreamy gaze to the questioning honey eyes. "Greetings to you, Wilder Tatsoo. Your people have been known to this one in the past. They are a wise, careful folk - much preferred to the others of your kind. We are known as Serethiel, and we are also very happy to meet you." The one known previously as Serethiel before her death had not known the Wilders, but she understood them now well enough, memories of them that were not exclusively her own coming to surface in her mind. They, at least, feared and respected the forest, and for that, she could bear them no grudge, even if they were human.

Now it was the honeyed Wilder's turn to accept her lesson, and the Rose's eyes found her now. This greeting was more puzzling, however, and though her smile never faltered, she had to search for what the meaning might be. Eventually, finding none, she settled on a welcoming nod, and cocked her head at the red-head. "Forgive us - we do not understand the meaning of your words. However," her head bobbed again in greeting, "we greet you all the same."

The students turned to their teacher as her addressed them both now, and she watched with interest as he offered an additional piece of advice. "Of course," she couldn't help but add, a smile on her lips as she looked past her skirts to her bared feet, tapping them on the cold floor experimentally. "You are your toes and knees and hips and chest and shoulders and elbows and fingers, and your head and eyes and teeth and ears, and the music inside of you." All of these things were the tools of a hunter, or of prey seeking to fend off its pursuer - there was nothing the badger or wolf or rabbit would not attempt if it meant that death would be escaped for one more day. If "fighting" and the defense of life were equatable, then it stood to reason that such would be true for fighting, as well.

If Griffinhart was surprised by Serethiel's - his ears had snatched the name from the air when she spoke it between blows, and committed it to his memory - interjection, he did not show it. Instead, he nodded once, agreeably. "They are all weapons."

Fremelda combed her fingers through her thick red hair. "I asked you what you were doing here, elf." she said to Serethial. Her arms folded under her chest and she paced about, mostly pondering to herself. She was slightly off put by the unfamiliar territory here, socializing with people for more than two minutes. She shifted uncomfortably. "Tatsoo, should we spar? I'm not really one for talk."

Tatsoo nodded calmly at the words from both Serethial and Griffinhart knowingly, "Aye. Any part of ye ken be a weapon but ye have ta know how ta use it. We gotta learn or we canna use it. Ah appreciate de workout, Rafayel." She smiled even though she felt a little silly not being able to say his name right. Had she not been learning the language long enough? It must take a bit more time for some words.

Fremelda asked to spar and Tatsoo nodded, "Aye. Sparring is a good idea." She did not want to think yet and sparring would help with that.

The Rose's clarification of what she'd meant was greatly appreciated, and she nodded her thanks. If anything had been made clear to her in her time following the stone-child's camp, it was that she had much to learn if she wished to interact with this new world in a significant way. With any luck, and a fair bit of tenacity, she very much hoped to eliminate the gulf which separated her from these new companions, since they seemed reluctant to connect in any of the ways she was familiar with. But that was fine. There was no harm in learning new ways, and not all people communicated similarly - even the clan to which part of her had once belonged had to adjust and compensate for new members before understanding could once again be reached.

Another dance was proposed, and all previous worry was forgotten as a smile spread across her face. Perhaps they two would seek to put their recent lesson to use, and she very much wished to see it performed. Without a word to ask permission if an audience was desired, she crossed behind the honey-haired Wilder, stepping up to the wooden man, and deftly climbed onto his artificial shoulder. From there, she had the perfect perch from which she might watch the two women clash once more while also keeping out of their way.

For his part, Griffinhart settled into an altogether different rhythm.

He stepped aside, yielding as much of the hall to the fighters as he could, and sat down in front of a pillar, several paces from the dummy that Serethiel perched on, his legs crossed. His hands rested lightly on his knees, arms halfway between relaxed and rigid, back straight as the pillar behind him, eyes not quite open, but not quite forced shut either.

For his part, Griffinhart settled into an altogether indifferent rhythm.

Fremelda nodded to Tatsoo, then removed her coat again, tossing it to one side before suddenly charging at the honey-colored one, open palmed strike to the sternum with one hand, while the other aimed for the throat. She used her momentum to spin to one side, and send a hand towards Tatsoo's kidney at her back. Quick, vicious, and unexpected. Her usual method of killing people.

Wary eyes kept Fremelda in their sights as the other woman removed her coat then suddenly came charging at the Chasind. That was pretty much what Tatsoo had expected as Fremelda seemed to like to get her attacks done and over with as fast as she possibly could which meant a direct attack.

With a wolf snarl Tatsoo made her own attack.

Instead of moving to the side, ducking or rolling Tatsoo took a defensive action moving forward then grabbing at her arm that was going towards her sternum. With the grab she would allow Fremelda to use her own attack against her, allowing that momentum to kick in to throw her away from the Chasind. At that point Tatsoo would pull the arm back and jump onto Fremelda's back to crush the air out of her then hit with an elbow into the other woman's back.

If this did not work she would swerve to the side and get a hit to her arm but nothing too badly and would roll with the impact to come back into a crouch, hands on the ground like a wolf ready to pounce.

A small hum seemed to float through the air filling the room with a deep resounding song, a white light glowed for a moment and anyone looking inside would see a bent over old man with eyes of glowing power and a beard that fell to his knees. As the light faded the body molded and grew younger until all the light was gone. Standing in it's place was a Mage of about twenty five with long silver hair, deep solid silver eyes, and armor of Red that would have cost ten king's ransoms anywhere else, a black cloak fell behind him and under that right over the armor was a white maji robe that was open revealing the armor. He carried a Black Ironwood staff that clashed with his appearance and the staff's head ended in a dragon's mouth with a silver orb locked in it's giant jaws.

The wizard smiled warmly at the people there before his eyes landed on the honey-blonde warrior. He stood for a moment his memories returning until he smiled. "Hello, my dear. I'm sorry I was away for so long....our was it shorter than I realize?" His voice was stronger as was his body, what had been willow muscle was now broad and strong. His shoulders were larger, his arms loaded with muscle, and his body under the robes and armor was well toned.

Elenri walked over and stood watching the two spar and kept a safe distance so he didn't interupt the pair again. He hadn't planned on appearing here....in fact he had planned on appearing only moments after he left. He chuckled looking at the Tattoo on his arm in symbols no one from the era would ever be able to read. And above that was a golden paw tattoo he had gotten to remember his beloved. Honestly, Elenri hadn't known if he would even arrive in the same years that he left or if it would be further in the past our future. But magic always had it's own agenda.

Shade was different though, not just his looks but around him glowed a white light as it radiated off his body, it hummed the same noise that he appeared in. Anyone who knew magic would understand this was resonation of his power that he now wielded. He looked over at the sitting man and smiled with kindness and wisdom. "I apologize for disturbing your training session. And I know I have no rank here but would it be too much to ask for you to get Lady Nygozy for me? I have much to discuss with her." His eyes flickerd to Tatsoo wondering if she was still his or if she had moved on. The man he just spoke to could have been her new mate for all he knew and if it was he would simply find Nygozy himself. He chuckled inward as he wondered how the Hero of the Land would react to seeing his apperance now. He had been a young and weak elf when she met him other than his magic. He looked back on that day in his memory and knew now that all those templars together couldn't have stopped him doing what he planned. But that was rash youth...someone he left behind centuries ago.

The one thing about magic was it gave and took away, he was a old man when he left where he was and he returned young but with all his wisdom and power. But at the same time he had lost so many of his life long friends and knew that he would one day go visit there resting places. But in all that time he never loved another woman, the symbol of the golden paw on his arm he got when he arrived there was a sign amongst them as one who was in love forever.

If there was any reaction from Griffinhart, it was only in that his eyes opened. Behind those cold blue-green irises, however, his mind made its paces. He had not even noticed the red man's words in the first place - he was preoccupied with noting weaknesses, defenses, potential avenues of attack. Teleportation, especially directly into the heart of a Grey Warden keep, was... not exactly an expected, or even unexpected, occurrence. Even the darkspawn would prelude their attacks with the rumbling of the earth, and the Grey had unique senses to forewarn themselves. But, while the mage's appearance was preceded with several unnatural events (Griffinhart had already committed the ethereal song to memory), there simply was not enough time in most - all? - scenarios to muster a proper defense.

"...would it be too much to ask for you to get Lady Nygozy for me? I have much to discuss with her." The words hung in the air; all the while, Griffinhart's eyes never left the red mage. It took a moment for him to realize that he was being addressed. Even then, he did not react with speed. His was an indifferent rhythm, and there were other issues aside from that.

"Yes, it would. The Warden Commander is attending to her own business in her apartment. Make an appointment with her." As flat as his voice was, Griffinhart's mind tensed itself, readied itself to go to battle, just in case his "diplomacy" went several sorts of sideways. But it was true enough; this was the training hall, in a mostly disused wing of the keep. The Commander's rooms were more central, and upstairs, where they could overlook a garden and the rest of the woods - not that Griffinhart would reveal this information to the mysterious teleporter.

The white-haired Warden remained where he sat, body halfway relaxed in its meditation.

Curses! A grapple hold! The Assassin grit her teeth as Tatsoo pinned her own arm behind her, so she deked the elbow strike by ramming the heel of her boot up between Tatsoo's thighs, and smacked her head backwards in an attempt to headbutt her golden haired opponent. The struggle was arduous, Tatsoo was stronger physically and Fremelda preferred ambushing and guerilla tactics to open combat. She was fighting a losing battle.

And then the air crackled, and the some man in red appeared before them, Fremelda instantly going on guard, prepared to kill the mage before he could hurt the others. Her hand instinctively reached down to her boot, for her dirk... But it appeared the man was familiar with Tatsoo, however, the redheaded Warden didn't lose the fire in her eyes, magic made her uncomfortable, and this man blatantly barged in on a room of professional killers. An unlucky fate to one meaning harm. "And you expected us to just let you see the Commander unbidden?" she said coolly "We'd not let her into danger so easily. I should know, I'm an assassin."

She had the assassin and was watching out for backwards head buts or leg hits until the air shimmered and a red mage with silver hair and deep silver eyes.

"Hello, my dear. I'm sorry I was away for so long....our was it shorter than I realize?"

Tatsoo's mouth fell open at the sound of that voice. It was strong but something she knew and she felt herself go slack letting Fremelda go. Her heart beat harder as her mind tried to grasp what was going on. She knew him. She knew him but it couldn't be.

"I apologize for disturbing your training session. And I know I have no rank here but would it be too much to ask for you to get Lady Nygozy for me? I have much to discuss with her."

He looked at her and it made the young woman stare back at him, hard but only with confusion and a lost sense of direction. It couldn't. Could it? It really could not be him. But there he stood determined as normal with an air of haughtiness that could only come from years of experience. But he did not have years of experience. His future self or whoever that was did.

"Yes, it would. The Warden Commander is attending to her own business in her apartment. Make an appointment with her."

"And you expected us to just let you see the Commander unbidden? We'd not let her into danger so easily. I should know, I'm an assassin."

"It be ok." She heard herself exclaim as she continued to sit on the floor, "Ah think it be Shade. Yes ... be Shade." Her voice was quiet as she fought off the pain in her tone and had to fight past a lump in her throat. Tatsoo shivered with reaction, thinking of how Shade had disappeared through the tunnel door which locked shut behind him. They had thought him gone, dead or worse and now he returns older, more cocksure and ... it was almost too much for the Chasind.

Elenri smiled as he let his staff go, the staff continued to stand on it's own, The mage walked past the others and to his golden haired love and kneeled down. "It is the same. I am that unsure Mage that took you flying, that poured my feelings of the world open before you, The wizard who was Kravens Apprentice, who walked beside you in the fade. I am the same man that loved you when I first saw you that day Nygozy brought me to you.....and the man who after three hundred years of being alone still love you. I apologize for leaving you, it was not....planned. I have returned though different....my love for you is still the same. My golden wolf....I love you still."

The Maji turned his head looking at the other two. "Fremelda....would you really have attacked a friend? Then again, I look a lot different than before. Ah....and this must be Griffinheart, I don't think we have yet had the pleasure." Elenri stood up while offering his hand to Tatsoo. A longing look filled his silver eyes as he stared into the golden one's of his love. "Tatsoo....I don't know how long I have been gone from here....days, months, years. But where I went....where I went I want to tell yu and Nygozy at the same time. And Kai since I know that man wouldn't leave her alone for a instant....and Fremelda will be there I bet...Jezarine possibly. She always was nice to me." He chuckled as he realized he was babbling. "I apologize...the old man still hasn't fully left me and neither has the teacher." He smiled a glowing smile filled with actual happiness and joy. "All that time Tatsoo there was never another."

His hand moved down and pulled up the sleeve to his robe revealing first a bunch of symbols unreadable by even the elves today, and a golden paw that matched the one Tatsoo had. "I remembered it and got this so I would always have some part of you with me." He turned and bowed to the other pair. "Forgive me, my talk here was probably better done in private but necessary all the same. I however must insist on a meeting with Lady Nygozy. If you would simply tell me where I can find her or if you like you can guide me there. But I'm pretty sure she would like to know I'm back."

Elenri opened his hand, the staff jumped and appeared in his hand in a blink. He stayed where he was, next to Tatsoo. He turned his head looking at her and wondered if his time away and the changes had changed too much for her to want him anymore? He repressed a sigh, seeing her face again was what had kept him going for so long in those dark underpasses. "Tatsoo...I am very sorry for leaving you, if you could have came I know you would have. But where I knew I had to go....it would have killed you and anyone who came. Trust me to have your best interest always in my heart."

There was a swell of music in the center of the hall, cacophonous and twisting in all directions at once, shifting and indistinct before finally coagulating in the form of an armored man, standing tall and bold in a place where before there had been nothing. Her head perked up, eyes straying from the fight to look upon the newcomer. The thought "threat" did not cross her mind - it never really did - and though the Rose's demeanor jumped from entertained to fierce in an instant, her only reaction was to lean forward slightly in her seat. From her perch she loomed just slightly over him and the room's other occupants, and she felt more than saw the panther-grace of Raphael Griffinhart's reaction (or lack thereof) several yards to her side. Cold blue eyes slid open, voice a low note that thrummed steadily through the dissonant song that was even now fading into the background.

Official matters were being dealt with, then - she didn't really pay attention. It wasn't her place to interfere in such things, even had she been interested in them, so their words simply skimmed past her, unheeded. Instead, she focused on the intricate pattern of lettering burned into his arm like vallaslin, the fanged mouth of his staff, the way he looked at the honey-haired cat. The song was old in him, a drop in time compared to the fathomless orchestra that filled her, but still the oldest she had yet seen independent of her own Fade-bound brethren. It was out of order, though, false notes and strains that sounded off out of cue. Even if not pleasant to the ear, it was an interesting song.

Griffinhart listened carefully to the names this "Shade" listed off, seeking incongruities and missteps. If there were any, he could not find them; the only question left, then, was how Shade knew the names, and the actual, physical placement of people within the Grey of Ferelden - he had explicitly mentioned Kai, and Kai's nearness to Nygozy. There was also the matter of the matching tattoos. Perhaps ("Perhaps"? "Most definitely" seemed more appropriate) Shade was a shade from Tatsoo's past - if so, she consorted with powerful people indeed. Strange, then, that she was here amongst the Wardens, but Nygozy could have possibly invoked the Right of Conscription - which meant that the Warden Commander had enough power to enforce the invocation, which could possibly mean that she was in no danger from this mysterious old mage... no, that did not seem correct.

There were several solutions to this question, none of them truly sensi- "You are more than just your hands and feet."

He had never thought in that way, but then... Griffinhart had never had the reasons nor the means to; and now he did, so why not make use of the reasons and the means? He was, technically, the most senior Warden currently in the room, by time served to the Grey, if not by promotion and placement within the hierarchy.

"Tatsoo. Fremelda. You know this man." It wasn't a question - strange how that was, that Griffinhart rarely had questions when he spoke - but the statement beckoned acknowledgement and answers anyway.

Soothing tones and undercurrents of expression mixed into a feathery cacophony of words which were confusing at the moment. Understanding would not come. It would not shine through the attempt to explain and make the Chasind woman understand what had happened or why. All it did was give power to the pain which Tatsoo had been trying to pull out of.

This training had been the first time since their separation that she had tried to connect with anyone to put balm to her pain and now she was unsure as to what was going on. Yes, Shade was explaining it all and part of her was taking it in but the stunned realization that he was alive gave rise to a befuddlement that was difficult to overcome.

Tatsoo did not even realize that she had taken Shade's hand and stood but she did look into his eyes confusedly.

"Tatsoo. Fremelda. You know this man."

Her superior's voice partially broke the spell of shock and she looked to Griffinhart with difficulty, "Aye ... ah ... aye, Griffen ... Gri ... He be a friend ta Nygozy. She had us meet. We went to da Fade with Kraven, Kassina, Dartmoor, Takara an Khael. We came back an Shade ..." Her top teeth scratched over her bottom lip, leaving grooves from her little fangs and made it bleed a bit but she licked the blood away, "He closed des door in de tunnels ta stop de darkspawn an was in dere with dem. We thought ... ah thought..."

Tatsoo closed her eyes and looked away, "Ah'm sorry. Ah canna ..." She turned and ran out of the training grounds having no clue where she was going.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She did not like being snuck up on, and suddenly teleporting in was a bad idea on Shade's part. She was in a foul mood now, her training interrupted. She stood there, entirely topless while she glared at Shade, her hand resting on the hilt of Thorn. "So you're little Shade all matured now? Forgive me if I seem incredulous, but what the hell are you doing here?" she grit her teeth while every fiber of her being screamed for blood, but she cooled her temper to a low boil.

And then Griffinhart addressed her and Tatsoo. "Eh, I know him in passing. We met once or twice before. He's much more...aquainted... with Tatsoo." she let the words hang in the air for a moment. Then Tatsoo ran out crying, and Fremelda's temper flared up again. "If you hurt her, Shade, I'll cut your balls off." she glared with steel blue eyes before picking her coat up again and storming out, to explore the rest of the Keep.

Elenri watched Tatsoo leave and for just a moment a spark of anger flared through him, he had risked his life coming back here, had risked losing his self and knowledge and memories, he could have come back brain dead or just dead. He came back because of her and now she couldn't stand the sight of him. The Mage breathed in deeply trying to reason it out. He looked different, by the reaction he wasn't gone long, but long enough to be thought dead which was possible since he locked himself in a tunnel with a Darkspawn Horde.

Elenri watched Fremelda and just for a moment he thought of putting her in her place, but that wasn't who he was anymore. People had a right to feel afraid and show bravado. He himself would have acted in the same way had Kraven suddenly appeared in front of him. As Fremelda left he turned his head and projected his voice. "I would hurt her when I rip the heart out of my own chest." He turned his head looking at Griffinheart and sized him up. A experienced warrior, ready to strike, but he wouldn't be fast enough. And then there was the old music in the background and he chuckled. "Serethial, you really shouldn't play in the back ground, it's rude to eavesdrop. Than again you were listening to the music not the conversation. I hear yours too."

His silver eyes never left Griffinheart as he spoke and he simply smiled. "There you are, two wardens who know me.....one who hates me and the other I have scared. Now which is which will find out later, But I am not just here to see Tatsoo, I am going to see Nygozy with or without your help. I can find her by following her memory so if you want to stay in the loop I suggest you take me, otherwise it's been a pleasure." He watched the man while hlding four cantrips in his mind, if the warrior attacked he would find himself facing something no one had faced since the fall of the old elven mages. "I didn't come here to fight, if I did well none of you would have had time to react in the first place. Now....are yu going to take me to her or do I find her on my own?"

Griffinhart listened to Shade's words, thinking even as the sounds reached his ears. No; something didn't add up correctly. There was math here, but his was not the way of numbers. So, instead, Griffinhart approached the problem the same way he did all his other problems - who sought to kill whom? Shade outright stated he was capable of finding Nygozy on his own. And yet, though she were his goal, he had not gone straight to her heart; instead, he had come here, to... do what? Accost Tatsoo? Fremelda? Serethiel? By his own admission, Shade was familiar with all three of the people in the room (three, for Griffinhart did not count himself amongst people, much less occupants of this, or any other, room; he was more like furnishings, if anything).

From the other side, Fremelda and Tatsoo had both conceded their familiarity, if only in passing. And they had no designs on or against Nygozy - or, if they did, they were bluffing. But then, they did leave soon after Shade's arrival, under the pretense of surprise and anger. Was Shade then a distraction? Fremelda was an assassin, after all - but no, she would have had plenty of opportunities to kill Nygozy. Why wait until now? And besides, Kai would be at hand, and having fought beside both, Griffinhart did not think highly of Fremelda's chances against Kai. Not unless Fremelda had more reason to kill Nygozy than a simple contract; and if she did, Griffinhart did not know it.

Similar hypotheses ran across the forefront of his mind regarding Tatsoo and Serethiel, but they all came up in the negative; neither of those two could have had an obvious reason to kill Nygozy, and even if they had non-obvious reasons, they would have had chances earlier, in Serethiel's case - she moved through the world at her own whims, Griffinhart noticed, and was much less conspicuous about moving than Shade appeared to be; or they would not fare well against Nygozy and Kai, as in Tatsoo's case, unless she was supremely skilled in self-control and withholding her actual combat capabilities - to the point of bluffing Griffinhart (who had learned to read bodies from... from where? That was a question, but the journey for the answer would have to wait), and if Tatsoo were that skilled, Griffinhart probably would have noticed, as circular as that logic seemed. Unless she was skilled enough to obfuscate her bluffing... No. She was too young and roughshod to be a one-level player, much less a three-level - unless that was what she wanted Griffinhart to think...

No, he was going about this all wrong. Killing Nygozy didn't make sense. But then, what did? Why had Shade appeared here, of all places, where three people who knew him, or him as he was then, not as he is now, were assembled? And why go through the pomp and ceremony, and the brandishing of his tattoo-

Pomp.

Ceremony.

Tattoo.

Tatsoo.

"I'll cut your balls off."

Really? That was why, was what Shade's objective was? Of course Griffinhart had not started with that idea; it was not something he had ever actually dealt with. He had heard of it, of course, listened in on conversations and tales that ran with similar themes, but it had never occurred to him that people actually did things like that. Especially not people with apparently incomprehensible powers that included at the very least teleportation and "memory following", whatever in the Fade that was. And, furthermore, in some dark, primal corner of Griffinhart's mind, some place that hadn't ever really been touched by teachings, but was just a repository of things that Griffinhart knew, it seemed... wrong that someone as apparently ancient and powerful as Shade would have romantic interest in someone as young and relatively weak as Tatsoo.

Nonetheless, Griffinhart was now sure of what he had believed to be Shade's goal in coming here, to this training hall, despite stating that he was powerful enough to go to the Warden Commander directly, which would have allowed him to easily bypass everyone except Nygozy and Kai; and he knew of Kai's existence and nearness to Nygozy anyways. The mage was not intending to kill Nygozy; he had come here, to this training hall, where three people who would be familiar with him were assembled, so that he could strut about and preen his feathers before three young women (or at least, two younger-than-Griffinhart women, and one not-visibly-old woman-shaped spirit).

Shade was a peacock.

"...or do I find her on my own?"

Finally - finally - Griffinhart deigned to move. His head turned, eyes open and sharp and cold, and a thousand other things, and he took a long, hard look at Serethiel, staring at her for the passing of several moments. If the spirit-girl was the undercurrent of a forest's ambiance, and the mage a cacophony of noise, then Griffinhart was the steady bass notes of silence. It was quite a gamble he took then, in that moment, unsure if what he had done had worked - if he had even done what he hoped to do. But the taciturn Warden (not so taciturn not so long ago) had tried his best, and that would have to do.

He rose, then, still silent, and steadily walked over to a - his - disorganized pile of clothing and armor and weaponry that lay in one gloomy corner of the training hall. And silently, naturally, with motions formed by habit, practice, and self-surety, Griffinhart dressed himself, and armored himself, and armed himself. One sword to the left of his hip; one sword over his back; the killing knife in its sheath against his chest; a shorter utility blade on his hip, opposite the sword, parallel to the ground; and so many others. Finally, without a flourish, he drew on his cloak - the black, heavy, tatter-edged cloth that weighed more and moved more heavily than any simple cloth should - and pulled the hood up. It was not until then that the Anders man spoke.

"Leave."

Her eyes followed the caped man as he moved, taking one step and then another towards Raphael Griffinhart, curiosity plain in the faint arch of her eyebrows and purse of her lips. He had known them, who were together called Serethiel? Certainly, he had known the name, at least, but she did not know his song in return. Or perhaps she did. Listening now, eager to discover their apparent connection, she searched deeper, tuned her ears to the most minute sounds drowned out by the cacophony that thrummed around him.

Ah, there it was. Just at the center, at the core of the song in flux around the caped man, was a steady, beating Chant. She remembered it belonging to a different brother, but now that she'd seen it, there was no mistaking it. How strange, then. She had never known mortal bodies to change so drastically and so quickly - not without the intervention of one of her more malicious kin - and even the one who had once been Serethiel, who knew the ways of mortals more intimately than she ever would, could offer no explanation for the metamorphosis. Some ancient magic, then, long lost to even the Keepers of her brothers and sisters. Fascinating. Forests did not know change such as this. The change she knew was slow, gradual, and sturdy as a massive oak in the deepest, oldest part of the wood. The change that had captured the brother once-called Shade seemed rapid and all consuming - had she not listened for the steady Chant that she had once heard, she would not have known him for the person he had been, his song and appearance had changed so.

Movement caught her eye away from the once-called Shade, and she looked to her side, where Raphael Griffinhart finally made to move. A green glance met ice, holding the connection for a long, silence moment, and then, with an efficiency of movement just this side of grace, he stood, retrieving the clothes that had been discarded for the training session. His movement seemed cue enough, and she slipped back from her perch on the training dummy, turning head over heel to land on the floor in a crouch. Raising to her feet, she watched the chant/cacophony, and then Raphael Griffinhart, and turned her eyes between them. They were speaking, perhaps not wholly with words, and while she had no interest to join their silent communication, she was eager to watch.

There was control in the way Raphael Griffinhart donned his shirt and armor once again. She had seen throughout her existence, a behavior not uncommon in the wolves that the hunter so reminded her of. Authority was asserted in subtle ways, attention paid in one's own good time because one had the right and ability to keep others waiting. He armed himself, a clear (even if not showy) display of power, and then he spoke.

Her head cocked to the side, birdlike. She'd moved as she looked between them both, several paces away from her former wooden-man perch, and she stopped, wondering if the command was directed at her, or at the once-called Shade, with whom he had been speaking several long moments before. The hunter's back was turned away from her, his heavy black cloak hiding most of him from view, but she watched him nonetheless.

Then she moved back, regardless of whomever the command was intended, bounding silently across the large hall to where her former hiding place had been, the tapestry which trailed up to the rafters. If one left the room, or the other, she wished to see, but she was accustomed to watching from her own, secret places, and she did not need to follow close behind.

((Continued from page 2 post in Home Sweet Wardens' Home))

His duty was simple but not as easy as others would believe. A human would walk around and ask others questions in order to find their quarry but a mabari was not one capable of such intricacies of speaking. This made the nose a hound's best friend. With this duty he had no trouble catching the scent. That much metal was easy to smell and the directions normally easy to figure out unless this one poofed away. He did that sometimes, Torture knew, but normally when fighting. Otherwise you could hear the clank of him.

Most could not hear this one so well but those were people. Their ears were not as good and their noses ... well if they could smell what they missed out with those useless noses they would be too stunned for their own good. The only ones who were better with this was the two wolf women, the dragon men and a couple others.

Humans, elves and dwarves moved out of the canine's way as he trotted about, sniffed the floor and walls then peed on columns wherever he felt required the help to tell others he owned this hunk of rocks. He was top dog and that was all there was to it.

He did not move too quickly as he wanted to make sure he was on the right track. Finally he came to the doors of the training hall. Torture looked at the double doors, sniffed at the base of it then stood on his hind legs to push the handles.

The doors opened on the second try as the mabari forced all his weight against them then hopped through as if he owned everything. Torture stood inside the doors sniffing the air as his eyes surveyed the room. He tilted his head to look up then back at the two men in curiosity.

Finally Torture walked over to Griffinhart, hit his head against the man's hip, barked then sat down looking at him demanding attention.