[OPEN] I know dark clouds gonna gather 'round me

[mactears]

WHO: Loghain + OPEN
WHAT: A catch-all for Loghain for November.
WHEN: Throughout the month of November.
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall, Sundermount.
NOTES: None yet, will update as needed. Starters for specific characters under the cut.

I. SUNDERMOUNT (OPEN + MORRIGAN)


The woodsman who had placed the cabin up for let likely hadn't expected for Loghain Mac Tir, the Traitor Teyrn of Gwaren and father to the Queen of Ferelden, to become his tenant, but there it was. He paid well for this private retreat in the wilderness, and with a promise to make some modest improvements to the property, one can scarcely suggest that the land owner himself is coming away at a loss.

There's a single-paddock stable attached to the cabin, which is where Sooty now rests eating from her feed back, while Loghain chops wood for the wood stove. Lying on the ground some distance away from him is a peculiar-looking dog--clearly part mabari, but with the unmistakeable ruff of a wolf around the face and hackles, too. Every so often, she rises up from where she rests in the grass observing Loghain's work with intelligent topaz eyes, and trots off into the undergrowth, only to come back sometime later to find another place in the sun to rest.

When he isn't in Kirkwall, this is where he spends a great deal of his time:  fixing up this run-down cabin, and trying to befriend the strange dog that now hangs out around the property.



II.  WARDEN OFFICES (ALISTAIR + NATHANIEL)


Alistair and Nathaniel Howe wish to speak with him.

In Loghain's experience, this can go one of two ways:  he's being ousted, or he's being murdered.

Nevertheless, at the appointed time he arrives outside the Wardens' office and knocks once to announce himself. "It's Loghain," he calls, then rests his hand on the latch without pressing it yet.



III. THE LIBRARY AT NIGHT (TEREN)


While much of the drama surrounding his initial appearance at the Gallows has died down during the intervening months, the easiest time for Loghain to conduct any research in the library is still after dark, when the rest of the researchers and students have long gone to bed and there's no one but himself present to peruse the shelves.

He'd laid out his old notes from Maric's initial disappearance across his chosen work station, along with maps of northern Tevinter and some other assorted reference books, and paces behind his desk, as is his wont, while considering them. The wolf-dog that rests beneath the table dozes, but every so often opens her lambent gold eyes, ears pricked and alert.



VI.  DARKTOWN (ANDERS)


It is some time after the company's return from Blackmarsh that Loghain makes his way into the streets of Darktown, dressed in a set of unremarkable brown and grey work clothes so that he won't be so easily noticed or identified. The dog isn't with him; she's well enough--and independent enough--to be left to her own devices on Sundermount during the daylight hours.

Reaching the clinic, he steps over the threshold and searches out Anders in a glance. Not wanting to disturb him from his patients, however, he hands back, patient.



V.  LOWTOWN (CARVER + OPEN)


Loghain isn't much of a drinker, but the only place to do that around Kirkwall appears to be the Hanged Man--which is where he is now, seated alone at a seat in front of the hearthfire, gaze alternating between resting on the fire and examining the occupants of the tavern. A few people have, over the past several months, identified him, and even given him some trouble, but generally not at this hour early in the evening, before the city has time to get drunk enough to make its worst decisions.

So here he sits with a tankard of ale, unwinding, and making himself available for conversation to whomever happens to come along.

Comments

[mactears]

"Perhaps I've been a Warden longer," Loghain counters with a quick glance Nathaniel's way, "but I think you and I both know how little longevity within the Wardens should matter, given what has transpired at Weisshaupt."

He stops to consider the two of them in incredulous silence; his apprehension couldn't be plainer, unless he put it explicitly into words, which he doesn't.

At length he fixes his stare on one corner of the desk in the middle of the room, gives his head a modest shake, and makes a gesture with one hand that might be described as aimless. "What value would my strategies hold for our fellow Wardens?" he points out, wry and doubtful. He takes a breath and forces himself to go on. "You've veterans of Ostagar, mages from Kinloch Hold, and elves of the Denerim alienage among your number--refugees driven from Ferelden to the Free Marches during the Blight, largely the result of a civil war in the Bannorn--all of that could rightfully be lain at my feet."

Doubtless there is more he could say, plenty more he could take responsibility for, if the way his gaze briefly lingers on Alistair is any indication. Instead he just shakes his head again, clearly questioning the wisdom of the offer that has been placed before him, and not convinced that accepting it is the right course.

[pinprick]

Alistair's irritated glance is returned, partly because the man had to point out Loghain has seniority on him, and partly just on principle.

"We have the entirety of the Anderfels to take back, if we can, additional darkspawn activity, and an army of demons to fight. Our enemy is a darkspawn magister who can control us directly if we get too close. We are outnumbered and overpowered. And only one Warden alive has personally instrumented the defeat of a foe that much greater than their own strength." After a moment of hesitation, he gestures to Alistair. "Well. Perhaps two Wardens have, but that only goes to show we need to work together to have the best chance of success."

[byblow]

“I don’t think you need to tell either of us what’s at your feet,” Alistair adds. “If anyone can’t deal with it, I’ll tell them what Riordan told me.”

What exactly that was, Loghain and Nathaniel don’t get to hear, but it’s probably not hard to imagine. In war, sacrifice. In peace, more sacrifice. In death, one last sacrifice for good measure. Any sacrifice to stop the Blight. Sometimes sacrifice means a blood magic demon army—which was a bad idea, but nonetheless something that most anyone who’d been a Warden for more than a few months believed was worth the cost—and sometimes that sacrifice is refraining from cutting off someone’s head.

Plus, if someone here really can’t handle it, Griffon Wing Keep is nice and sunny this time of year.

“And if I can stomach working with you, you can stomach the attention.” Like Nathaniel was saying: “We have bigger problems.”

[mactears]

He opens his mouth to argue, then stops himself. His hesitation has its roots in fact; it isn’t about the attention, he’s been living with the attention for over a decade. It’s whether his input into their decision making process will bias the rest of the Wardens against their efforts to fight their enemy.

But Nathaniel and Alistair know that risk. Surely they accepted it when they chose to accept Loghain back into their ranks.

He’s quiet for a moment, stilling his restless energy with difficulty, and drops his attention to the map. When he does speak, it’s not to accept their offer, but to ask them both, “You plan to retake Weisshaupt, then?” and looks from one man to the other with careful, critical eyes. It seems a safe assumption, to him. How else could the Wardens reclaim the Anderfels without first reclaiming their fortress?

[pinprick]

Nathaniel looks at Alistair for a moment before replying.

"It would be something to discuss between the three of us. That's why we need you in this position. We need your expertise, your counsel in how to proceed."

[byblow]

“We need everything you’ve got,” Alistair tags on. A tall order, but that’s their lot. It’s no more than anyone has asked of any of them in the past, from the moment they joined—and Alistair, at least, doesn’t believe it’s asking too much.

[mactears]

At length, he replies, "All right," and nods once. It is a tall order, on that he can agree with Alistair. But it's necessary, and he has never been a man capable of turning his back on necessary work. "I'll give you whatever I can."

[pinprick]

"Good. Thank you." They'll pop a cork when they win the war. He makes a vague gesture. "We'll...find a place to put your desk, if you need one. And anything else you might need."

[byblow]

"Probably," Alistair says, just to keep anyone from getting cocky about having their needs fulfilled. He's quiet for almost long enough to indicate he's done talking, but not quite. He's only peeling the words out of his throat, like peeling something especially sticky and disgusting off the bottom of his shoe. "Thank you."

[mactears]

At their thanks, his only response is another brusque nod; doubtless anything more would have Alistair turning his face inside out from disgust.

"If that is all," he begins, gesturing towards the door, "I'll see myself out. We can go over my notes and your existing strategies together in the morning."