Snippet #2308516

Alan watched with some irritation as several of his men fell to the taint. It wasn't losing them in particular that caused him ire, more so than losing them to the Darkspawn did. He was more than ready to leave Ostagar. Alan rode in the center of the pack of fleeing Templars, Daylen was further along in the back, he wanted the mage there should any surprise attacks occur. As they marched on Alan barked out his orders, and the men moved in perfect sync to his words. Even in all the chaos of the battlefield, the Templar Knights stayed vigilant. Survival was their motivator, and their captain was the catalyst.

"Captain!" One of the men called out. Alan reared his horse to a halt. "A survivor," At the edge of the trees of the Wilds, their sat a bloodied elvan woman. Though her beauty enchanting, the captain was prepared to let her die--until he took notice of the griffin insignia on her armor.

"A Warden..." The vague traces of voice escaped from his mouth. "Amell! Can you heal this woman? She just might be what we need." If the Warden's truly were gone after Ostagar, this woman might be the must valuable boon in Ferelden. A boon Alan was not about to let slip through his fingers.