Snippet #1383263

The Tower may be a prison, but at least it wasn't a pig-sty Antius noted as he looked around Lothering, noting the flood of refugees, the overwhelmed Templars and especially the stench of the unwashed masses: sweat, urine, cooking, dirt, a whiff of cheap perfume here and there... It did not make for a pleasant combination. Still, he was grateful that Ser Sev provided him with a whole Sovereign, though he had some silver to keep him fed and watered. He had a feeling, though, that he might not return to the Tower for a long time.

Over the journey to Lothering, he stuck close to Ser Bruce and Asmara out of his familiarity with the two and the fact that Asmara was a fellow mage, if nothing else. He did, however, ask many questions of the Magi Warden whenever he was in human form, wanting to learn as much about his unique Shapeshifting branch of magic as possible. Like the spells of an Arcane Warrior, it was completely outside the Five Schools of Magic, which intrigued him further. Of course, he also happily chatted with Asmara about plants and herbs along the was as well, shep speaking of her own uses he speaking of their discovery and historical uses. It was a rather pleasant chat.

He glanced at Asmara, raising an eyebrow at her. From her expression, she looked a bit unsure. He smiled at her reassuringly, guessing the source of her discomfort, "Don't worry. People won't question you as long as you're with myself and Ser Bruce."

He had a feeling that she was telling the truth earlier, about being an Apostate. Thus, she couldn't have been completely comfortable in towns very often. He continued, "Perhaps we should buy some food or some spare robes. I know I need at least one spare set if I'm going to clear away the Darkspawn blood."

He gestured at his own robes, which were slightly burned and stained with the blood of the tainted creatures. Most unfortunate.