The Blood that Binds

Werewolf Woods

The Dalish elves were an elusive bunch. It took Solona and her people a week to find them in the forest. They hid their movements well. As she slowly approached a small group of hunters, she held out her hands in placation as the woman on point approached her with a sour look on her face. They were all clearly Dalish from the tattoos on their faces and the distinct leather armor. "Stop right there, outsider. The Dalish have camped in this spot. I suggest you go elsewhere, and quickly."

"Actually," Solona said gently, her tone wary. "I've been looking for the Dalish."

"I find that hard to believe," the woman said, her hands finding her hips. "What business could we Dalish possibly have with a group like yours?"

"I am a Grey Warden. I wish to speak to your leader," Solona said truthfully. If she wanted their trust, honesty was key.

"A Grey Warden?" the woman frowned. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Solona smirked. "Many people go about pretending to be Grey Wardens, do they?"

"No, that's true." Her eyes scanned Solona and her party before she grimaced and waved her arm. "Perhaps I shall let the Keeper decide for himself. In the camp, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself and remember that our arrows are still trained on you. Follow me."

After a short trek through a maze of woods, the woman led them into a clearing. Several of the Dalish land ships were parked in a tight circle and the clan had clearly been there longer than the Dalish tended to stay in any one place. A large pen had been set up at the bottom of a dip in the land near a tiny lake, and it was filled with the white, twisted horned beasts that the Dalish called Halla. They were like horses, their tasks to help pull the land ships when the Dalish traveled, but they more closely resembled deer in Solona's opinion.

The woman led them to a much more ornate 'aravel' as the Dalish called the land ships, where an elven mage stood, the power pouring from him, scenting the air with the scent of pure nature magic. His bald head tipped with both curiosity and mistrust as Solona approached. "Hmm. I see we have guests." He briefly glanced at the the hunter and asked, "Who are these strangers, Mithra? I have precious little patience and less time to spend on outsiders today."

The woman made a series of gestures that ended in a short bow. "This one claims to be a Grey Warden and wishes to speak with the clan. I thought it best to leave the decision to you."

His large eyes returned to Solona as he spoke to the hunter. "That was wise of you. Ma Serannas, Mithra, you may return to your post."

She dipped her head again. "Ma nuvenin, Keeper." Then she disappeared to return to her group.

When she was out of sight he spoke to Solona. "Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Zathrian, the keeper of this clan, it's guide and preserver of our ancient lore. And you are?" he tipped his head, his eyes never leaving hers. He was wary.

"My name is Solona. A pleasure to meet you," she said, offering a short bow of her neck to show respect.

"Manners? From a Shemlen? Interesting. What might be your mission here? Have you come to spread news of the Blight?" He crossed his arms and sighed. "I had already sensed the corruption spreading in the South. The existence of the Blight is not news to me. I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see, we do not."

"Yes," Alistair agreed with a sigh as he glanced around them at the state of the camp. "It seems like you have had your own troubles. What are the odds?"

Solona silently agreed. Nothing had gone smoothly yet. Why should it start now? "I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. This will require some... explanation. Please, follow me." Zathrian beckoned Solona to follow and she held up a hand to be sure the others stayed behind. They moved further into the camp where a makeshift hospital was laid out between two of the aravels. The cots were lined with bloodied and suffering Dalish hunters. Their wounds were like nothing Solona had ever seen. Bites and claw marks like that of a massive dog, even larger than a Mabari. "The clan came to the Brecilian Forest one month ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden. We are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the werewolves would be lying in wait for us. They... ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak. Even with all our magic and healing skill, we will eventually be forced to slay our brethren to prevent them from becoming beasts. The Blight's evil must be stopped, but we are in no position to uphold our obligations. I am truly sorry."