faderift | Return to the Blackmarsh

While the female mabari seems to tolerate the presence of the two-legged companions who now fuss over her injuries with both ointment and magics, the sight and scent of another dog has her pupils narrowing into defensive pinpricks, her wolfish hackles raising, and a low, guttural warning growl rumbling deep in her chest.

"Careful, fellow," Loghain bids Garahel with a quick glance, respecting the animal's intelligence, then grimaces at Inessa. "Some drunken lout downstairs talked about betting on a wolfdog in a dogfight across town. I showed up and found her like this." He does not elaborate regarding by what means he wrested the animal out from under the control of her previous master; like as all, his bloodied knuckles might have something to say about it.

Anders comes over shortly after Inessa does, and seeing she has the mabari in hand gestures at Loghain's hands.

"Let me see those. Please." They're already marked as Wardens. They really don't need to stand out more, and if there'd been a fight like the knuckles suggest, covering up the evidence might be the smartest move here. He might finally be learning something about stealth, years after he needs it.

The look Loghain shoots Anders suggests he's about to argue, before thinking better of it. He gives the wounded dog a quick glance and, finding her calm again (if depressed in that manner that only severely mistreated animals can be), offers his hands to Anders.

"Garahel, stay back." Inessa knows he'll listen if she says so, then narrows her eyes as she listens to Loghain's explanation. "Absolutely deplorable. I'm glad someone was there to see it, and intervene. You poor dear...." She reaches into her back to take out a couple of treats for the mabari, and Garahel's so concerned he doesn't whine once.

Anders starts healing, frowning at first before nodding. The damage isn't serious at all and it's taken care of in moments.

"Dogfights," he mutters, shaking his head. "I'm glad we won't be here long. Do you think she'll be able to travel?" They can't really leave her here. Her stance speaks of a history of abuse and he's not fine with letting that continue.

The thought of leaving her behind had not occurred to Loghain; the second he took custody of her from the man who had held the shackles of her leash, he had accepted responsibility for her welfare.

"I'd prefer to give her a night's rest at least," he says to Anders, his eyes still on the injured mabari. When Inessa offers out the treats, it heartens him to see her docked ears perk with some subdued interest. Gingerly, she takes the biscuits in her wolfish maw and crunches them. Whatever her trauma, it doesn't appear that her appetite has been adversely affected.

Loghain absently reaches out to smooth a hand over the top of her head, affection in the gesture, then starts to heave himself up to his feet. "I'll go fetch her some water," he tells the others and starts to leave--but he doesn't get far. The injured mabari's eyes follow him to the door with intelligent worry, and she emits a low whine and starts to pull herself up to her feet.

"It's alright, sweetheart. He's coming back with water for you." Inessa lifts her hand up to gently stroke the mabari's head, her voice low and calm. "Don't you worry, he'll treat you well." Despite her issues with Loghain, that is something she has no doubt about whatsoever. Garahel plops down, letting out a softer, worried wine for the poor mabari. Even if she can't handle him being close, he still doesn't like to see her traumatized.

"Easy, easy." The gentling, reassuring words come to him unbidden, instinctively, but they seem to do the trick. Lowering her great head, the wounded mabari eases herself back down onto the blanket by the fire, gives her chops an anxious lick, and then rests her chin atop her massive paws; if it wasn't clear before, it's more than evident now that this animal truly does have wolf in her. Her lambent topaz eyes look a touch too wild, too untameable, to be pure mabari--and they remain fixed attentively upon Loghain in a manner that he recognizes all too well from his youth.

A worry for another time. Loghain turns a quick, grateful look upon both Anders and Inessa. "I'll be just a moment," he tells them both, then quickly excuses himself downstairs to get as much water as he can carry in his oilskin.

When he returns, he's also commandeered a wooden bowl from the innkeeper. Kneeling down in front of the mabari, he pours the water into the bowl and sets it before her. "Here you are--" he starts, but has to stop with a grimace. She gives his face a few licks, cropped ears laid back on her skull, then turns her attention to the water.

"Maker," he sighs, "what am I going to do with her?"

"I'll ask him. Thank you, Inessa." It's worth finding out, at least. With that settled, Anders leans over and gives Garahel a pat on the head. "I'll go call him now. And... Thank you for the offer, but I'd like to keep a low profile if I do go."

He stands with a nod to her, preferring to make the call in private because he knows the answer might not be one he wants anyone to overhear.

This is worse than useless. Maker's breath. How are the Loyalists even winning when they're... No, he knows how. Because the Chantry wants them to win, and all of the people who profit off caging mages want them to win. Even if the rebels all wind up being more able to do anything than Myrobalan has proven in swamp and at table, they're still woefully outnumbered and the Loyalists still have Vivienne.

"Fine. I've something else to do anyway." He takes his drink and gets up, leaving Myrobalan and wondering how much is wrong with the elf that he can't even talk.

Anders looks over at Loghain and raises an eyebrow, more than a little amusement in his expression.

"You're Fereldan. She's a dog. I'm fairly certain there's a pattern here that I've seen repeated numerous times. I just need to have a few moments to put my finger on it. Fereldan. Dog. Fereldan. Dog. No, no, it's not coming to me. A shame, that."

The dog is all right and Loghain is all right, and there's no one storming the tavern looking for her yet which means it's a perfect time to tease.

"Very clever," Loghain retorts to Anders dryly, but his irritation isn't genuine.

He rests his hand absently on the dog's back, inspecting her for any residual wounds that Inessa's healing spell hadn't caught, but it seems to have done the trick, mending lacerations and easing bruises in her powerful muscles. The scars of a hard, terrible life are still plainly wrought all over her body; her great size and strength have made her an effective fighter, but doubtless the experiences have taken a toll on her intelligent mind. Even as she gulps down the water, her topaz stare keeps flicking warily to Garahel, as though expecting him to lunge for her at any moment; not even his gentle manner seems to reassure her.

"I'll have to keep her clear of the Gallows in Kirkwall, for a time," he admits, grimacing. "I suspect whatever fight she may start she stands a good chance of finishing."

Watching the mabari slake her thirst, Inessa shakes her head as she too notes the many signs of abuse and hardship. The poor mabari must have been through so much, an unthinkable affront in a land where the creatures are so respected. Whatever Loghain did to those responsible, she can only hope it was as painful as the damage they managed to inflict on the poor girl.

"A fair point, she needs time apart from all that to heal. That will be difficult to achieve with other mabari near her." She darts a look at Garahel, who is now looking around the tavern in search of things to bring back for his not-friend, dropped off at a distance. So far his findings include a tangled ball of yarn and a piece of cake.

Glancing up at Anders, Inessa smirks faintly. "It is a bit of a puzzle, isn't it? Though I think our new friend can assist in solving it. She already seems to have an opinion."

Well just gang up on him then, why don't you. He grunts and gently scratches at the scruff of the dog's neck; that seems to ease some of her anxiety over Garahel's proximity, though the ball of yarn--and especially that cake--seem to have piqued her interest a little.

"I think she should be well enough for the journey back," Loghain muses aloud; evidently he now has a dog. No point in arguing the issue with anyone present... or with the dog, for that matter.

He contemplates the situation as he gets up enough to grab the yarn, frown at the cake chunk, shake his head, and bring the both over into what's more or less her reach. The cake gets dropped because he doesn't want to risk his hand being licked, ew, dog slobber, but he dangles the yarn. ...Much like one would for a cat.

"I don't know where to suggest for her while she recovers the rest of the way, if the Gallows won't work. I can't offer my Clinic as we've no idea how she is around children and there's always children there, the Hawke estate has a mabari, and that's about all I could conceivably offer out. But at least you've got two healers for the journey back, so she'll not have to be in pain."

Predictably, the cake gets wolfed down without hesitation as soon as it's dropped in front of her massive paws. That puts to bed some of Loghain's concerns regarding her overall health; her appetite still seems quite healthy.

"I'll sort something out," he says absently in response to Anders, evidently content to let that concern remain a problem to figure out in the future. He'll have the entire journey back from Amaranthine to come up with an adequate solution.

Return to the Blackmarsh

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I don't know why my tracking keeps failing for this whole log...

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