The inside of the cave had fallen silent save for the sound of their breaths and movement. Nothing else stirred; presumably any wildlife that would have inhabited the place had died when the Tal-Vashoth moved in. Nostariel straightened her spine, wincing slightly when the vertebrae clicked into place. Lucien and Ashton both seemed mostly okay, if a little battered. Still, now that the fight itself was over, she was able to concentrate much more simply, and healed all three of them in one fell swoop, a graceful gesture calling the needed relief from behind the veil. She did not bother to hide the soft sigh of relief that gusted over her lips, lifting a few errant pieces of hair that had come loose during the confrontation. Plucking one such tendril between her fingers, Nostariel twisted it and tucked it behind a pointed ear.
Ashton had just stop rolling wildly, finally noticing the flames went out a long time ago and now noticing the sudden chill in his bones. He supposed the fine powdery snow around him had something to with that, and the only friendly mage in proximity with that. If it had been the Saarebas, he doubted that it would have been something so pleasant as a powder... More like an icicle. He had just made it to his knees with another arrow nocked, looking for anything else that may desparately need the business end of it. Though it seemed naught as the only thing left standing was pretty little Nostariel and large barrelled Lucien, each standing over their respective foe. Ashton shrugged with a pleasant chuckle as he let the bowstring become slack.
Another quick scan of the area proved that the day had indeed been won, and they were now alone in the cave except for the bodies of the fallen Qunari. A moment passed by in silence before it was irreparably shattered by none other than Ashton. His arms shot up in a victorious gesture and he barked, "Woo! Victory! Thy scent is sweet!"
Thy scent is...? Nostariel's nose crinkled just momentarily, and she wasn't able to suppress the snort that followed. Before that could become actual giggling, she turned it into a light cough, bringing her curled hand in front of her mouth. She greatly disliked the sound of her own laughter, punctuated as it often was with the embarrassingly unladylike sound. What disturbed her even more was that she'd felt like laughing at all. How long had it been since she had? Years, at least. Now hardly seemed like the appropriate time to start, however absurd the declaration had struck her to be. It sort of made him sound like an overgrown puppy, all long limbs and floppy ears or some such.
Desiring a smooth transition to thoughts she was more comfortable having, Nostariel spoke next. "Well, I suppose we ought to go tell Javaris what happened." She cast an aside glance at the dead Saarebas and barely stifled another sigh, this one considerably more melancholy. Averting her gaze, she waited to make sure the two men were of the same mind, then led the way out of the cave the way they had come, rather inclined to leave the gloomy scenery behind as soon as possible.
The trip back along the Wounded Coast was uneventful, and for her part, Nostariel was content to remain silent, treading lightly across the sandy pathways as though they were paved. When you were used to sloughing through the bloody muck and mortar that littered the Deep Roads, sand was hardly a pressing concern for you, she supposed. If only all the 'benefits' to her vocation were so tangible, she might have a life to work with. The trio reached Kirkwall just as dusk was beginning to trail across the sky, rosy brush-strokes of color dyeing the horizon a maidenly shade of pink.
Javaris was in the market where they'd left him, still at his stand, and Nostariel slowed her pace, allowing one of the others to overtake her. They were both better at talking than she was, though in completely different ways. She'd leave it to them to explain their success.
Unsurprisingly, Ashton was the first one to speak, never the one to be quiet for any extended amount of time. His face was and had been beaming ever triumphantly ever since they all had left the cave. Perhaps there was a slight saunter in his step as well, but it was indistinguishable from his regular saunter. In front of the dwarf, Ashton fell into an aloof stance, arms crossed, head tilted. "The deed is done-- if the fact that all of our limbs are still attached is any indication, it went rather well. Wouldn't you say?" Ashton called back to other two. "Though by no means was it easy Serah Dwarf. The pay better reflect the effort on our part." he stated, the urge to embellish the tale rising. "It felt like we had to slay an entire army," and there it was, "I personally believe I took out a little over a score. The Chevalier, more so. Even the mage got an impressive body count. It would have been rather difficult for anyone other than us glorious warriors. You, Serah Dwarf, are just lucky we aren't charging by the head," With the steady stream of... Embellishment finally out of his mouth, he finally allowed someone else to get a word in edgewise.
"Yes, yes," Javaris acknowledged, waving his hands as if to urge Ashton to stop, "you'll have your coin. In fact, all of us are about to become very rich, I think. Come on, follow me."
The dwarf led the group down the stairs to the docks with a spring in his step, though it was tinged with no small amount of anxiety. Going before the Qunari in what had become their own home was no easy task. It was obvious that this particular was not the courageous sort, but he had at least enough guts to present himself to the Arishok, which said something either about his barvery, or his greed. In short order they came to the compound the foreigners had fortified for themselves, and through some annoyed negotiations with the gate guard, the group was allowed entry.
Perhaps too boldly, Javaris Tintop strode into the compound, passing by walls lined with spears, as though they were being prepared to repel an invading army. The kossith gave the visitors cold, annoyed, and disapproving glances, but otherwise made no attempts to remove them as they made their way up an incline, to stand before a set of stairs leading up to a centrally positioned chair, which was vacant. Javaris grabbed the attention of one of the guards with a wave of his hand. "Summon your Arishok. The bargain is done!" Interestingly, the Qunari offered only a scowl before he moved to comply.
Only a short wait later, he presented himself, towering over even his own kind, elevated above all on his pedestal above the outsiders standing below. His horns were black as night and curled back behind him. His physique was the very picture of strength, sheer power, making even Lucien look small in comparison, but he was not without grace. His movements were light rather than careless as he took a seat and gazed down upon the dwarf and his hirelings.
When he did not say anything initially, Javaris tentatively offered his report. "Greetings... Arishok. I am here to report that your hated Tal-Vashoth were felled one and all." He looked back to the others as he had suddenly become unsure. "Right? Yes, they were." He turned back to the Arishok. "So, I'm ready to open negotiations. For the explosive powder. As we agreed." The Arishok leaned forward to scrutinze Javaris for a moment before delivering his reply.
"No."
Javaris was a bit stunned by this, perhaps expecting far more willingness from the Qunari to trade than he'd received. His first reactions was to look back to those that had come with him, to see if any of them could add anything to help their situation.
Lucien frowned. He'd had a feeling something like this was going to happen, particularly when Javaris had mentioned that the Arishok had already deemed him unworthy. The mercenary in him knew much better than to get involved in his employer's business, but for all that he was still a bit like he'd used to be, and at the very least it seemed like a good idea to understand what was going on. He hadn't missed the fact that this place, and the people in it, appeared outfitted for battle at a moment's notice. Perhaps this was simply a facet of Qunari culture that he knew nothing of, and if that was the case, he'd be more than happy to simply leave. Yet... there was something about this setup that pulled his instincts towards battle, as though that very thing were palpable in the air here, held back only by time and this kossith's will. What that meant, he didn't wish to dwell upon at present.
"I would request clarification, if that is permissible to you," he said, loud enough to be heard but certainly without any hint of Javaris's bluster or presumption. "Is it the case that you are unwilling to sell to Javaris, or unwilling to sell more generally?" Not that he was going to negotiate for it himself; he certainly had no need of explosive powder, but if there were merchant quantities of such a substance here, and the Qunari were planning on keeping all of it... well, that would be quite the interesting piece of information.
"A useful question," the Arishok acknowledged. "The dwarf imagined the deal for the gaatlok. He then invented a task to prove his worth, when he has none. There was never an agreement."
During the trip to the Qunari compound, Ashton's gait slackened a bit and allowed Lucien to take lead. Despite all that he ran his mouth off about to the dwarven merchant, he was still a mere archer and hunter, and these Qunari were, quite frankly, frightening. The air was tense as dozens of hardened eyes lay on them, stripping their layers and weighing their worth. He managed to put on a fine show against the Tal-Vasoth, maybe he could have even been called brave in that circumstance, though here, now, with all of the real Qunari, his boastful bravado melted away. If he had a tail, it would surely be tucked between his legs.
The Tal-Vasoth were chaotic, undisciplined, more akin to wild animals than actual soldiers. If it was one thing Ashton knew it was animals. But these Qunari were no mere animals. They were trained, hardened soldiers. Disciplined beyond belief and completely stoic in their duty. And if their duty proved to be strangle the life out of the pitiful archer, Ashton didn't think he had the strength to deny them that. So yes, Ashton was uncomfortable-- if his demeanor didn't give it away. He twitched and fidgeted behind Lucien, his silly grin wiped off of his face and replaced by a grim frown. His eyes were quick, sharper, darting from one soldier to another, keen for any sign of danger.
Ashton thought it would be a quick visit. Enter, get their payment, then get the hell out. It seemed it wasn't that simple, though things rarely did. Ashton was surprised at the fact that he was surprised. He cast a quick glare at the dwarf-- a simple thing to do when one stood behind a Chevalier. He then looked to the Arishok with much less harsher eyes. "Apologies S-Serah Arishok," he began, stumbling over his words for the first time in a long time. "We were led to believe th-that you and the D-Dwarf had ironed out a d-deal of sorts," he said with an uncomfortable goofy smile plastered to his face. A facade, and anyone with two eyes could have seen that. "We were promised pay-payment in return for a task-- A task in which we completed. Are you saying that the payment is now forfeit?" Bold, perhaps, but he had a shop to pay for and the payment promised was a means to that end.
"Bloody hell you're scary..." Ashton mumbled afterward, dashing any progress made on the courage front.
Nostariel was rather calm and blank-faced as the group entered the Qunari compound. Oh certainly, they were large and not at all friendly-looking. But then, so were Darkspawn, and at least Qunari had rationality. Besides that, it was a rare occasion indeed that she wasnât the frailest-looking person in an area, so one could say she was well used to situations of this nature.
What might have been a breathy sigh ghosted over pale lips when the nature of the âagreementâ between Javaris and the Arishok came to light. Namely, that there apparently was none. Lucien seemed more than capable of handling the conversation, or at least the Qunari gave him more words than heâd given the dwarf. If Amalia was anything to go by, that meant his question had been better. She wondered what the Ben-Hassrath would think of all this. âŠIt probably wouldnât be particularly kind to any of them. Not that Amalia struck Nostariel as wicked, only⊠she seemed hypercompetent, and would likely have informed all of them in advance that they were being sent on a foolâs errand by a bigger fool still.
Ashtonâs fear was palpable, and the elf-woman blinked her surprise. He hadnât seemed the type to be overly-intimidated by anything at all, but apparently even his wit could not make a joke of the Qunari. Probably for the better, though⊠if he kept rambling like that, he might anger them anyhow. With no other touchstone for understanding them, she could only guess that it would have irritated Amalia, and that probably meant worse where these warriors were concerned.
Unsure exactly what to do, she figured the worst option was adding more words to the mix, and hoped Lucien would be able to smooth that over. For her part, Nostariel went with her healerâs instincts first and moved to Ashtonâs side, surreptitiously slipping a bare hand about his wrist. This served two purposes: first, it allowed her to take his pulse, which was indeed elevated. So he was genuinely afraid then⊠it was secondarily supposed to be a measure of comfort, and an affirmation that he was not alone here. Patients tended to need those from time to time, and she had never resented giving them. Still, her eyes remained fixed forward, upon Lucienâs back and beyond that, the Arishok. Her free hand flexed, and she forced it to relax at her side.
Perhaps Ashtonâs anxiousness was contagious. Perhaps it was simply the utter lack of regard in the Qunariâs body language and expression, as though they were beneath contempt. As though he knew that, without understanding a single thing about any of them.
Ashton twitched hard at the touch and whipped his head around fast enough to give most people whiplash. His surprise was quickly stifled when he realized the culprit was none other than Nostariel. Was she looking to scare him out of his mind, the last thing he needed was somebody grabbing his wrist. If it had been a Qunari, Ashton couldn't have promised he wouldn't have thrown Lucien at him and ran. Though the touch itself wasn't... Unpleasant. Just surprising. He managed to calm down a bit, though it was still quite clear he was anxious. They were outsiders in the Qunari compound, and the lovely mage's silky smooth hands would do little against a Qunari with a burning desire to mount their heads on the wall. Still though, he did enjoy it in any case...
At Ashton's tentative comment, the Arishok chose not to direct ire at him, but instead at Javaris. "Dwarf," he said, sternly enough to get a flinch out of Tintop, "did your imaginary bargain make promises on my behalf?" The dwarven merchant's gaze fell to the ground, before slowly searching it's way back up, never quite returning to the Qunari war-leader. "I... uh, expected your wisdom to be more, uh... profitable." He left it at that, and the Arishok bowed his head, possibly in disgust. A few of the surrounding warriors shifted, both their bodies, and their weapons, which were perhaps a part of their bodies. The mood was definitely changing in the compound, and not for the better.
The Arishok stood. "Then you will pay on my behalf," he commanded with significant force, even if his voice did not raise to a shout. Javaris sighed, knowing he had no other options to turn to. He tossed each of the three a coin pouch. "Sod it all, take your coin, take whatever." He turned and walked away, pushing past his hirelings. "Sodding bunch of oxmen and sellswords. The whole lot, breathing smoke. Bah!"
When he was gone, the Arishok returned to his seat. "There is no profit in empowering those not of the Qun. The means of creating the gaatlok is ours alone. It shall be dispensed only to our enemies... in the traditional manner." He shook his head, clearly annoyed by the entire conversation, and waved the visitors away. "You will leave as well. There's no more coin for you here."
Lucien caught the coin-pouch thrown at him with an obvious frown, tucking it away with a shake of his head. This could have gone... much better. Frankly, he thought they'd be wisest to take the Arishok's advice and leave, but then that was no different from what he'd been thinking five minutes ago. Rubbing absently at the back of his neck for a moment, he met the Arishok's eyes and dropped into a slight bow. "Our apologies for the intrusion. Had we understood things would be this way, we'd not have wasted your time." So saying, he turned, meeting the eyes of the clearly-nervous Ashton and the steady Nostariel, gesturing with a jerk of his head for the entrance to the compound. Lingering beyond the duration of their already-tenuous welcome would be little short of madness, and he did not wish to discover this day how long they could last against a large chunk of the Qun's own army.
Ashton caught his pouch with one hand, displaying his natural dexterity before turning it over in his hand. "Oh. Hey. Looks like I am getting paid. Neat," Ashton said before stuffing the pouch into a pocket. He nodded along with Lucien's comment. "Right, right, terribly sorry Mister Serah Arishok. No more coin and wasted time and all that. We'll be on our merry way," Ashton spouted. At the Chevalier's gesture, he grabbed Nostariel by the shoulders, spun her around, and began to march her towards the exit with all due haste. "Leaving, leaving, leaving, leaving," he said rhythmically.
Nostariel marched at a dutiful pace, a little perplexed by Ashton's apparent need to keep her in front of him, but she went along with it for his sake. He seemed incredibly pleased to be leaving, and she couldn't disagree with the sentiment. The Qunari were... unnerving, to say the least.
Ashton had just stop rolling wildly, finally noticing the flames went out a long time ago and now noticing the sudden chill in his bones. He supposed the fine powdery snow around him had something to with that, and the only friendly mage in proximity with that. If it had been the Saarebas, he doubted that it would have been something so pleasant as a powder... More like an icicle. He had just made it to his knees with another arrow nocked, looking for anything else that may desparately need the business end of it. Though it seemed naught as the only thing left standing was pretty little Nostariel and large barrelled Lucien, each standing over their respective foe. Ashton shrugged with a pleasant chuckle as he let the bowstring become slack.
Another quick scan of the area proved that the day had indeed been won, and they were now alone in the cave except for the bodies of the fallen Qunari. A moment passed by in silence before it was irreparably shattered by none other than Ashton. His arms shot up in a victorious gesture and he barked, "Woo! Victory! Thy scent is sweet!"
Thy scent is...? Nostariel's nose crinkled just momentarily, and she wasn't able to suppress the snort that followed. Before that could become actual giggling, she turned it into a light cough, bringing her curled hand in front of her mouth. She greatly disliked the sound of her own laughter, punctuated as it often was with the embarrassingly unladylike sound. What disturbed her even more was that she'd felt like laughing at all. How long had it been since she had? Years, at least. Now hardly seemed like the appropriate time to start, however absurd the declaration had struck her to be. It sort of made him sound like an overgrown puppy, all long limbs and floppy ears or some such.
Desiring a smooth transition to thoughts she was more comfortable having, Nostariel spoke next. "Well, I suppose we ought to go tell Javaris what happened." She cast an aside glance at the dead Saarebas and barely stifled another sigh, this one considerably more melancholy. Averting her gaze, she waited to make sure the two men were of the same mind, then led the way out of the cave the way they had come, rather inclined to leave the gloomy scenery behind as soon as possible.
The trip back along the Wounded Coast was uneventful, and for her part, Nostariel was content to remain silent, treading lightly across the sandy pathways as though they were paved. When you were used to sloughing through the bloody muck and mortar that littered the Deep Roads, sand was hardly a pressing concern for you, she supposed. If only all the 'benefits' to her vocation were so tangible, she might have a life to work with. The trio reached Kirkwall just as dusk was beginning to trail across the sky, rosy brush-strokes of color dyeing the horizon a maidenly shade of pink.
Javaris was in the market where they'd left him, still at his stand, and Nostariel slowed her pace, allowing one of the others to overtake her. They were both better at talking than she was, though in completely different ways. She'd leave it to them to explain their success.
Unsurprisingly, Ashton was the first one to speak, never the one to be quiet for any extended amount of time. His face was and had been beaming ever triumphantly ever since they all had left the cave. Perhaps there was a slight saunter in his step as well, but it was indistinguishable from his regular saunter. In front of the dwarf, Ashton fell into an aloof stance, arms crossed, head tilted. "The deed is done-- if the fact that all of our limbs are still attached is any indication, it went rather well. Wouldn't you say?" Ashton called back to other two. "Though by no means was it easy Serah Dwarf. The pay better reflect the effort on our part." he stated, the urge to embellish the tale rising. "It felt like we had to slay an entire army," and there it was, "I personally believe I took out a little over a score. The Chevalier, more so. Even the mage got an impressive body count. It would have been rather difficult for anyone other than us glorious warriors. You, Serah Dwarf, are just lucky we aren't charging by the head," With the steady stream of... Embellishment finally out of his mouth, he finally allowed someone else to get a word in edgewise.
"Yes, yes," Javaris acknowledged, waving his hands as if to urge Ashton to stop, "you'll have your coin. In fact, all of us are about to become very rich, I think. Come on, follow me."
The dwarf led the group down the stairs to the docks with a spring in his step, though it was tinged with no small amount of anxiety. Going before the Qunari in what had become their own home was no easy task. It was obvious that this particular was not the courageous sort, but he had at least enough guts to present himself to the Arishok, which said something either about his barvery, or his greed. In short order they came to the compound the foreigners had fortified for themselves, and through some annoyed negotiations with the gate guard, the group was allowed entry.
Perhaps too boldly, Javaris Tintop strode into the compound, passing by walls lined with spears, as though they were being prepared to repel an invading army. The kossith gave the visitors cold, annoyed, and disapproving glances, but otherwise made no attempts to remove them as they made their way up an incline, to stand before a set of stairs leading up to a centrally positioned chair, which was vacant. Javaris grabbed the attention of one of the guards with a wave of his hand. "Summon your Arishok. The bargain is done!" Interestingly, the Qunari offered only a scowl before he moved to comply.
Only a short wait later, he presented himself, towering over even his own kind, elevated above all on his pedestal above the outsiders standing below. His horns were black as night and curled back behind him. His physique was the very picture of strength, sheer power, making even Lucien look small in comparison, but he was not without grace. His movements were light rather than careless as he took a seat and gazed down upon the dwarf and his hirelings.
When he did not say anything initially, Javaris tentatively offered his report. "Greetings... Arishok. I am here to report that your hated Tal-Vashoth were felled one and all." He looked back to the others as he had suddenly become unsure. "Right? Yes, they were." He turned back to the Arishok. "So, I'm ready to open negotiations. For the explosive powder. As we agreed." The Arishok leaned forward to scrutinze Javaris for a moment before delivering his reply.
"No."
Javaris was a bit stunned by this, perhaps expecting far more willingness from the Qunari to trade than he'd received. His first reactions was to look back to those that had come with him, to see if any of them could add anything to help their situation.
Lucien frowned. He'd had a feeling something like this was going to happen, particularly when Javaris had mentioned that the Arishok had already deemed him unworthy. The mercenary in him knew much better than to get involved in his employer's business, but for all that he was still a bit like he'd used to be, and at the very least it seemed like a good idea to understand what was going on. He hadn't missed the fact that this place, and the people in it, appeared outfitted for battle at a moment's notice. Perhaps this was simply a facet of Qunari culture that he knew nothing of, and if that was the case, he'd be more than happy to simply leave. Yet... there was something about this setup that pulled his instincts towards battle, as though that very thing were palpable in the air here, held back only by time and this kossith's will. What that meant, he didn't wish to dwell upon at present.
"I would request clarification, if that is permissible to you," he said, loud enough to be heard but certainly without any hint of Javaris's bluster or presumption. "Is it the case that you are unwilling to sell to Javaris, or unwilling to sell more generally?" Not that he was going to negotiate for it himself; he certainly had no need of explosive powder, but if there were merchant quantities of such a substance here, and the Qunari were planning on keeping all of it... well, that would be quite the interesting piece of information.
"A useful question," the Arishok acknowledged. "The dwarf imagined the deal for the gaatlok. He then invented a task to prove his worth, when he has none. There was never an agreement."
During the trip to the Qunari compound, Ashton's gait slackened a bit and allowed Lucien to take lead. Despite all that he ran his mouth off about to the dwarven merchant, he was still a mere archer and hunter, and these Qunari were, quite frankly, frightening. The air was tense as dozens of hardened eyes lay on them, stripping their layers and weighing their worth. He managed to put on a fine show against the Tal-Vasoth, maybe he could have even been called brave in that circumstance, though here, now, with all of the real Qunari, his boastful bravado melted away. If he had a tail, it would surely be tucked between his legs.
The Tal-Vasoth were chaotic, undisciplined, more akin to wild animals than actual soldiers. If it was one thing Ashton knew it was animals. But these Qunari were no mere animals. They were trained, hardened soldiers. Disciplined beyond belief and completely stoic in their duty. And if their duty proved to be strangle the life out of the pitiful archer, Ashton didn't think he had the strength to deny them that. So yes, Ashton was uncomfortable-- if his demeanor didn't give it away. He twitched and fidgeted behind Lucien, his silly grin wiped off of his face and replaced by a grim frown. His eyes were quick, sharper, darting from one soldier to another, keen for any sign of danger.
Ashton thought it would be a quick visit. Enter, get their payment, then get the hell out. It seemed it wasn't that simple, though things rarely did. Ashton was surprised at the fact that he was surprised. He cast a quick glare at the dwarf-- a simple thing to do when one stood behind a Chevalier. He then looked to the Arishok with much less harsher eyes. "Apologies S-Serah Arishok," he began, stumbling over his words for the first time in a long time. "We were led to believe th-that you and the D-Dwarf had ironed out a d-deal of sorts," he said with an uncomfortable goofy smile plastered to his face. A facade, and anyone with two eyes could have seen that. "We were promised pay-payment in return for a task-- A task in which we completed. Are you saying that the payment is now forfeit?" Bold, perhaps, but he had a shop to pay for and the payment promised was a means to that end.
"Bloody hell you're scary..." Ashton mumbled afterward, dashing any progress made on the courage front.
Nostariel was rather calm and blank-faced as the group entered the Qunari compound. Oh certainly, they were large and not at all friendly-looking. But then, so were Darkspawn, and at least Qunari had rationality. Besides that, it was a rare occasion indeed that she wasnât the frailest-looking person in an area, so one could say she was well used to situations of this nature.
What might have been a breathy sigh ghosted over pale lips when the nature of the âagreementâ between Javaris and the Arishok came to light. Namely, that there apparently was none. Lucien seemed more than capable of handling the conversation, or at least the Qunari gave him more words than heâd given the dwarf. If Amalia was anything to go by, that meant his question had been better. She wondered what the Ben-Hassrath would think of all this. âŠIt probably wouldnât be particularly kind to any of them. Not that Amalia struck Nostariel as wicked, only⊠she seemed hypercompetent, and would likely have informed all of them in advance that they were being sent on a foolâs errand by a bigger fool still.
Ashtonâs fear was palpable, and the elf-woman blinked her surprise. He hadnât seemed the type to be overly-intimidated by anything at all, but apparently even his wit could not make a joke of the Qunari. Probably for the better, though⊠if he kept rambling like that, he might anger them anyhow. With no other touchstone for understanding them, she could only guess that it would have irritated Amalia, and that probably meant worse where these warriors were concerned.
Unsure exactly what to do, she figured the worst option was adding more words to the mix, and hoped Lucien would be able to smooth that over. For her part, Nostariel went with her healerâs instincts first and moved to Ashtonâs side, surreptitiously slipping a bare hand about his wrist. This served two purposes: first, it allowed her to take his pulse, which was indeed elevated. So he was genuinely afraid then⊠it was secondarily supposed to be a measure of comfort, and an affirmation that he was not alone here. Patients tended to need those from time to time, and she had never resented giving them. Still, her eyes remained fixed forward, upon Lucienâs back and beyond that, the Arishok. Her free hand flexed, and she forced it to relax at her side.
Perhaps Ashtonâs anxiousness was contagious. Perhaps it was simply the utter lack of regard in the Qunariâs body language and expression, as though they were beneath contempt. As though he knew that, without understanding a single thing about any of them.
Ashton twitched hard at the touch and whipped his head around fast enough to give most people whiplash. His surprise was quickly stifled when he realized the culprit was none other than Nostariel. Was she looking to scare him out of his mind, the last thing he needed was somebody grabbing his wrist. If it had been a Qunari, Ashton couldn't have promised he wouldn't have thrown Lucien at him and ran. Though the touch itself wasn't... Unpleasant. Just surprising. He managed to calm down a bit, though it was still quite clear he was anxious. They were outsiders in the Qunari compound, and the lovely mage's silky smooth hands would do little against a Qunari with a burning desire to mount their heads on the wall. Still though, he did enjoy it in any case...
At Ashton's tentative comment, the Arishok chose not to direct ire at him, but instead at Javaris. "Dwarf," he said, sternly enough to get a flinch out of Tintop, "did your imaginary bargain make promises on my behalf?" The dwarven merchant's gaze fell to the ground, before slowly searching it's way back up, never quite returning to the Qunari war-leader. "I... uh, expected your wisdom to be more, uh... profitable." He left it at that, and the Arishok bowed his head, possibly in disgust. A few of the surrounding warriors shifted, both their bodies, and their weapons, which were perhaps a part of their bodies. The mood was definitely changing in the compound, and not for the better.
The Arishok stood. "Then you will pay on my behalf," he commanded with significant force, even if his voice did not raise to a shout. Javaris sighed, knowing he had no other options to turn to. He tossed each of the three a coin pouch. "Sod it all, take your coin, take whatever." He turned and walked away, pushing past his hirelings. "Sodding bunch of oxmen and sellswords. The whole lot, breathing smoke. Bah!"
When he was gone, the Arishok returned to his seat. "There is no profit in empowering those not of the Qun. The means of creating the gaatlok is ours alone. It shall be dispensed only to our enemies... in the traditional manner." He shook his head, clearly annoyed by the entire conversation, and waved the visitors away. "You will leave as well. There's no more coin for you here."
Lucien caught the coin-pouch thrown at him with an obvious frown, tucking it away with a shake of his head. This could have gone... much better. Frankly, he thought they'd be wisest to take the Arishok's advice and leave, but then that was no different from what he'd been thinking five minutes ago. Rubbing absently at the back of his neck for a moment, he met the Arishok's eyes and dropped into a slight bow. "Our apologies for the intrusion. Had we understood things would be this way, we'd not have wasted your time." So saying, he turned, meeting the eyes of the clearly-nervous Ashton and the steady Nostariel, gesturing with a jerk of his head for the entrance to the compound. Lingering beyond the duration of their already-tenuous welcome would be little short of madness, and he did not wish to discover this day how long they could last against a large chunk of the Qun's own army.
Ashton caught his pouch with one hand, displaying his natural dexterity before turning it over in his hand. "Oh. Hey. Looks like I am getting paid. Neat," Ashton said before stuffing the pouch into a pocket. He nodded along with Lucien's comment. "Right, right, terribly sorry Mister Serah Arishok. No more coin and wasted time and all that. We'll be on our merry way," Ashton spouted. At the Chevalier's gesture, he grabbed Nostariel by the shoulders, spun her around, and began to march her towards the exit with all due haste. "Leaving, leaving, leaving, leaving," he said rhythmically.
Nostariel marched at a dutiful pace, a little perplexed by Ashton's apparent need to keep her in front of him, but she went along with it for his sake. He seemed incredibly pleased to be leaving, and she couldn't disagree with the sentiment. The Qunari were... unnerving, to say the least.
The Chanter's Board has been updated. Blackpowder Promise has been completed.