Ferelden

Severia glanced to Asmara and Antius, arching a brow at how close the two seemed. Perhaps they were both from the tower? "Naturally." she agrees, waking them up when it's time to head off seems ideal. Still Severia has to wonder exactly what sort of welcoming they can expect in Lothering. They have a very large group...it would be wise to split up perhaps into smaller groups to deter any undesired attention from themselves. Her boiling tactics are simmered as someone presumably directs their voice to her. She turns her head to view the man with the concealed eye, nodding her head and reaching out to shake his hand cordially. "Severia Sorcha Cousland, 'Ser Sev'." giving her full name is simply a protocol by now.

Kujo is staring rather blankly into the fire, often glancing at Lenwe and wagging his tail. When someone moves and pats his square skull the hound perks his ears before craning his muscled neck to stare luridly at the man. Nose twitching he gets a good whiff of the man. Feathers, wood, a horse, salt...water. Salt water, the ocean. Oh! Kujo loves the ocean! With a muffled chuff he promptly rolls himself out across the man's lap, hefty girth planted he begins to lick Jasper's hand as though to clean the flesh right off of it.

Her lips twitch into a smirk before settling back into a stoic, neutral line. Anyone her dog can rightly accept is obviously of decent mark for the time being. Dogs, especially mabari, just have a knack for sniffing out certain people. "With the Blight it is not so unusual. This time it was only unusual because of the demons. Demons and Darkspawn...do not work together like that on their own." she frowns as she tightens her pack, making sure her precious few belongings remain firmly tucked.

~~~

Perhaps she should feel blessed. Arvin and Ryuu both border her, each expressing concern. "Souveri numin. My brother...he was not there. I miss him. I worry." she attempts a grim smile, using the facade to walk forth in Arvin's wake. The flaxen haired Dalish readies her bow in case of danger...although her halla, Dareth, slowly prances out in front of them. She blinks and waves an arm. "Dareth! Nae ven! An ar, ena, ena!" she calls with desperate heartbreak (she cannot lose both brother and halla in one night!) as she begins to chase the bleating beast as he extends and folds his slender legs, accelerating into the dreary woods and sodden hills.

The huntress runs swiftly, a roostertail of muddled water flinging up behind herself, catching the ends of her hair to darken it with filfth. Hair plastered to her nap and long ears her boots pound the earth with earnest. Within a few moments a faint piping can be heard. "Cash! Caaash!" Blysse wildly knocks aside a sapling, just bending it, before erupting into a clearing. Dareth is leaning his antlered head over that weary looking brother of hers. She grabs him up into her arms and touches their ears together. Cash whimpers to her in Dalish, saying how he was hoping to find them and help after being afraid but only helped himself by getting lost in the storm.

Jasper laughs, an easy, rolling chuckle as he finds himself with a lapful of warhound. Sure, he could attempt to maintain an aloof, distant demeanor, but where was the amusement in that? Besides, it was hard not to smile when one of these lugs was doing his best to eat your hand off sans teeth. He wasn't exactly sure what he smelled like that was so appealing to the dog, or even if this said anything good about how he smelled to people, but then he wasn't really too concerned with that. "I do believe your hound has decided I make a rather good cushion."

She replied to his implied question next, though, and his expression dropped into a thoughtful frown, all feigned attempts to get the bloody dog off him ceasing as he absently took up scratching Kujo's belly. "A Blight, you say? I had heard rumors, but I must admit I was not terribly keen to believe it. Of course, it is a different matter when the Wardens are the couriers of such news." His visible eye narrowed, and he stared into the fire. Demons, too? perhaps we ought to ask one of them about that... he shot a look at the slumbering magi and shook his head. Chances were, if they knew, they would have said something already.

Returning his gaze to the fire, Jasper spends a moment in thought. He most certainly valued his freedom above much of anything else, and hated the idea of being tied down to any one set of circumstances in particular. A side-effect of seeing his parents live that kind of life miserably, he supposed, what with the whole 'Arl of South Reach' thing, but even the fickle pirate had to admit that there were indeed things out there more important than his amusement. "I am not in the habit of making promises, particularly ones I cannot keep, so I promise you nothing. However..." he paused, and, lifting a hand to his face, felt along the scar that marred his cheek with his ring finger. It was a habit of his, and only a partially-conscious one. "For now at least, I'll offer what assistance I can give, Ser Sev of the Grey Wardens, if you'd like it." His expression changed abruptly, morphing once more into the slightly-wild grin that his crew had learned to anticipate and be wary of in equal measure. "I have my share of uses, I assure you."

Ryuu watched as Blysse ran off into the forest, Ryuu not far behind her his feet slamming hard into the ground as he chased after her. Once they reached the clearing though he smiled at the reunion between the siblings as he moved in closer and shook his head. "Cash, you shouldn't have wandered off Blysse and I were worried.." He said crossing his arms over his chest, and in turn looked to Blysse. "We can't dally to long, He can come with us, I'll carry him if need be.." He stated quite calmly. as he smiled at Blysse, to show he just wanted to tease her brother. He wanted to see if his teasing could spark the original personality of the male, and maybe bring out some more energy from him. He didn't know if it would work, but he had to try no use in letting the male feel down, and his teasing seemed to make the male angry, so if it did; it'd only give him rise and bring him back to normal.

He then moved even closer and placed a hand on the elven male's shoulder gently. "I think you'll make a fine scout amongst us" He said with a smile, looking to his sister for conformation of the fact. He looked back from where they ran, wondering when Arvin would show up. He closed his eyes listening for any type of moment over the noise already present. He wondered if they'd find any darkspawn, or if they'd get lucky and none would be near. He hoped it was the latter, he really didn't feel like fighting anymore darkspawn, not before a good nights rest anyways.

Arvin darted out after the running pair, hurrying to keep up with them. He had no clue where Blysse's halla was getting off to, so it was best if he did not get separated from them. Arvin paused to perk his ears at a slight noise. It sounded like pipes blaring over the rain. Arvin bounded off ahead of Blysse and Ryuu, having the better vision, he came upon the area first, but did not approach Blysse's little brother. Arvin had only ran ahead to make sure the area was safe. He'd let Blysse go in and do the talking. They'd likely not understand him in this form anyhow. Arvin just continued to circle the small clearing, keeping an eye out for any kind of danger, darkspawn or otherwise.

The lynx perked an ear at the suggestion Ryuu gave. Arvin wondered if they could afford to take Cash back to the cave. Arvin didn't think they could, with an attack on Lothering in the works, or going on at that very moment, Arvin had to agree that taking Cash with them was their best option. They'd just have to be careful and protect him. The lynx stepped into the little clearing to meet his three fellow scouts, sitting back on his haunches and waiting for the siblings to finish with their reunion. He then made a motion by tilting his head in the direction he'd come from, gesturing for the party to continue on their way when they were ready. Arvin stood and turned to leave, though he had to wait for them to start walking, Arvin didn't want to lose the group with so many darkspawn and demons around. Once again, Arvin's fur was soggy and dripping thanks to the rain, matting the fur down to give the lynx an almost silly look.

Ser Bruce Le-Guy

“Insolent, unthankful…” Bruce hissed at Severia, though he kept the volume low and inaudible for the people in the cave. Bruce was ready to step down if no strong leader was ready to take the lead of the party, however that never meant that he was open for insults and discrimination.

Is this how you treat the men of the Maker? Adraste’s champions of Light? I will not forget this easily, Bruce thought, sending Severia a scornful look before he turned and looked at Raelnor, and then it struck him, he had lost his helmet while he had battled the darkspawns. Bruce had no idea where it could have ended up nor did he think that they had time to go search for his helmet, it wouldn’t make the biggest difference to him, as long as he had his chainmail hood to protect him from further scars on his head.

Bruce turned his head to the two mages he had met at the campsite in the first place. They were sleeping, which he supposed was good. The less unlikely it was that they would do anything silly, the Maker knew how much he disliked the mages; mages and elves were something which Bruce held of high hopes for, he kept it to himself however though he had always shunned whatever elves that managed to become a Templar, They don’t deserve the honor of serving the Maker nor the Chantry of Andraste.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Severia, “Well, that is one thing we can agree on. Demons and darkspawns working together isn’t something I’ve heard of. Either the Darkspawn leader has some powerful allies, or these demons have plans of their own.” Bruce agreed.

“Warden Serveria, do tell me…How do you plan on going about in Ferelden? I mean no offense, but with the rumor that the Grey Wardens were responsible for the death of the king, I could imagine that both bounty hunters and would-be patriots will hunt you down.” Bruce was curious for how the Grey Wardens had planned that they were to escape

“Allow me to make up for my…Incidental commanding earlier,” Bruce then said, “While certainly I am not the most beloved Templar amongst the…Mages of the Tower, I am certain that the common people of Ferelden is more likely to see my word of higher value. So, if you would allow it, Warden Severia, Ser Raelnor and I could function as a form of…Communicator with the people of higher rank, especially those within the Chantry.”

Bruce’s pride had been punched rather hard by Severia so Bruce wanted, at the very least, some form of position where he could represent then Templars, Chantry, and the group; he refused to be seen as a simple soldier, for he was nothing like the common soldier he was a Templar. There existed a difference.
Also, It was partly true, the Grey Wardens were accused for being the killer of the King and if Raelnor and Bruce could simply say that they were ‘escorting’ the group of mages along their quest of the Tower. Most people wouldn’t just question a Templar, they existed for a reason.

---

Lisa Smith

Lisa opened her eyes. She was rather surprised that she wasn’t having a stiff neck after having slept on a stool against the wall, well maybe the quality of the wall was better than those in the Free Marches. One never knew.
Looking around in the inn she could see that there were more and more refugees that had flocked to the town in hope of protection, Don’t they know that there is a difference between being five miles and fifty miles away from an enemy? Obviously not, Lisa thought, honestly not really feeling the least bit of pity for the peasants. Why should she? She wasn’t a native of Ferelden so there was no reason to show any emotions for such people.

I’ve lingered here long enough, Lisa thought as she got up from the stool and left the inn. It was an hour before sun rise, well, so she guessed, and even at this hour Lothering was a busy city. Many people traveling through the city, either refugees, merchants on the run or rag-tag bandits that were trying to conceal their true profession amongst the commoners.

The local Templars were busy keeping order. They ensured that there was no thievery or fights between the people. They are like confused cattle, Lisa thought as she looked at the crowd.
The city wasn’t exactly the most hygienic place when there were so many people. The smell of sweat seemed to drown every other smell, which could be considered to be good for with this many people together after all…The stench of urine wouldn’t be in the air, along with other personal hygienic smells.

Lisa went straight to the Chantry of the town to see if they were open, and they were. Great, Lisa thought as she walked into the building, she went straight to the Knight-Commander of the Chantry, “Ser,” she said politely getting the attention of the Templar, “Yes?” he asked and looked down at Lisa a bit surprised at her way of dressing.

“I’ve heard that the battle at Ostagar didn’t go as believed, is that true?”
“I’m afraid so. The darkspawns has beaten the king’s army as well as the Grey Wardens have been responsible for the murder of the King. Why? You are not of Ferelden.”
“I was ordered by the governor of Ostwick in the Free Marches to serve as a strategist concerning the King’s scouts, however my shit was delayed and I’ve just arrived to hear these news. It is terrible news indeed.”
“Aye, but tell me…Why would the Free Marches send officers to aid the King?”
“Certain city states have the best interest for Ferleden, however I am afraid that their hopes are now for naught.”
“I see,” the Knight-Commander said, nodding, “I hope then that you will return back to the ”.

Lisa bowed slightly and then turned to speak with other members of the Chantry. “Revered Mother,” she said with respect and smiled, “I have come a long way from the Free Marches, please enlighten me with the knowledge of the current events. I’ve heard that the King’s army ahs been defeated at Ostagar, yet…How can an army consisting of veteran soldiers, large numbers of recruits and mages, if I am not mistaken.”
The Revered Mother looked at Lisa, estimating what rank she bore and how she could be concerned with the strategies of Ostagar. “I think you are more than a mere traveller from the Free Marches, aren’t you?”
Lisa smiled and leaned her head to the side, “And right you are.”
“There isn’t any any-”
“I’m not here to investigate your faith, I’m here to see why the Blight wasn’t stopped by Ferelden, and why the Chantry hasn’t reacted to the continuing existence of the Blight.”
“Is that so?”
“If I do encounter corruption within your Chantry, I’m also charged with rooting it out. The Chantry serves a purpose. A purpose for the people and its believers, no one can deny that and you know that well.”
“That I do. Now…The Chantry has had some…Political difficulties, which has hindered its ability to simply intervene.”
“What are these political difficulties?”
“General Teyrn Loghain is on the throne, there is political unrest, on the brink of civil war, and there hasn’t been many reports from the Tower of Mages. Things are being too quiet and too tense, and the last thing the Chantry here needs is a bold Knight-Commander who is responsible for the start of a civil war. The Tower of Mages is already being undermanned since a significant number of Templars were sent to aid at Ostagar. The Chantry is…in a tight spot”

Lisa considered the knowledge and then looked at the Revered Mother, “What is the Chantry’s standing for the Grey Wardens?”
“We are to remain indifferent towards the Grey Wardens, outside the politics of the Grey Wardens as well as the politics of Ferelden.”
“That goes even for the Templars?”
“In theory, yes, however many Templars have lost friends due to this Blight and will most likely hold grudges against them, but their training ought to keep them in line.”
“Thank you, Revered Mother,” Lisa said and nodded.

Lisa left the Chantry, stepping outside she took out her pipe, placed some tobacco into the pipe and lit it. Lisa smoked when she needed to think, and now she needed to think deeply. The Chantry was in a weaken position, unable to take action due to the political tension that was evolving between the petty nobles and the throne. The lack of Templars were limiting their ability to defend the cities as well as maintaining the mages in their Tower.
The possibility of a Mage Riot were high if they discovered that they could overpower the Templars, and likewise were they likely to be eradicated by the darkspawns if they didn’t act against them. These Grey Wardens were obviously the only ones trained to fight such monsters, and although they had killed a king, whether through political motivation or personal vendetta, it was over and Lisa needed to get these Wardens together (or whoever were left in these lands) and prepare to counter this Blight.
Lisa doubted that the Blight would simply stop after the destruction of Denerim, or whatever their target was. Which meant that the Free Marches was in danger, high danger if the Blight wasn’t stopped, But where do I start searching for Wardens that doesn’t wish to be found? I need to ask around, Lisa thought and then looked to see that there were thin rays of sun rising from the horizon.

The sun was rising, and so was a new quest with a much larger burden. Lisa was ready to take on possibly the greatest mission she had ever done.

The armored lady exhales a short-lived laugh when Kujo flops across the man's lap. "Mm, he's an overgrown lap-dog. Do keep in mind Kujo is rather useless outside of battle." she jabs lightly at the hound's pride although Kujo is far too delved in a belly rub to respond to his mistress' teasing. Apparently Kujo had no intention of rolling off of the man anytime soon. Severia is used to that but she doesn't want to burden anyone with the whims of her quirky, heavy warhound. Nonetheless her packing slows as she finishes up and hears what the man, Jasper, has to say.

Her parents have told her to be wary of strangers and she always has been. Even if Kujo fancies them it cannot predict how they will behave in the future. And the man is missing an eye. What sort of shannanigans has he gotten into to deserve that? Standing to encourage her body to drop tension she leans against the wall opposite of the slumbering mages and the rogue. That haphazardous grin does little to comfort any concerns but...well he did do fine out against the Darkspawn. Although she wonders how long he's been traveling with Asmara's clutch she decides to leave that for questioning the elven mage later. "As long as you understand what you're offering yourself to, you are more than welcome to lend a hand for Ferelden, Jasper."

Offering yourself to the cause of the Grey Wardens as a non-Warden is noble and can bring so much. However there is always that vast risk. The Darkspawn will want you dead for siding with the Wardens (they just know it's so eery!), Blight animals are apt to hunt you quickly and the people who do not see the need for Wardens will shun you.

Kujo sits up somewhat and seems to direct his attention to Bruce, back hunched and no longer kicking his leg from the pleasant belly scratch. He somewhat understands the angry, low growl from the Templar and utters his own dull snarl. As all dogs he knows when someone isn't fond of him, but as a mabari he senses so much more for his Lady. Kujo looks to Jasper again and with a wiggle of his short tail slathers the man's face with a film of slavia from his broad tongue before standing up. He bows into a stretch and plods over to Severia, dropping his rump down on the cave floor and leaning a burly shoulder against her leg as he warily eyes the Templars.

Severia notes her warhound's behavior but assumes nothing, reaching down to fondly rub the furry soldier's ears. When the Templar begins to speak again she gives him a stable look. Warden Severia. That didn't sound like something she'd be fond to hear often. Warden she may be but she has always been a knight. Still this nameless man has a point. "Ah please, Ser Templar. I've been known as 'Ser Sev' since I was seventeen and find it befitting.", how would she go about Ferelden with her fellow Wardens?, "I have considered it but have yet to construct anything useful." she admits. Severia has always been one to boost morale for, say, a troop of soldiers or even some young mabaris being weaned, even at times has she tried to regain the favor of her enraged parents (oh she will never regret her tattoos! Well worth it), but never before has she had to contend for a nation's understanding.

Now though Bruce's offer makes her touch her chin in thought and glance down at Kujo as though consulting the hound. Blinking at his Lady the wardog rolls over on his back, tongue lolling. Severia shakes her head at the spurned Kujo before settling her eyes to sift from either Templar. "I am humbled by your offer and very eagerly would I accept help from Templars", well Templar seeing as Raelnor hadn't been the one to offer although Templars have some bond of brotherhood, "But this is a very delicate matter. The faith of Ferelden needs to be kept in check now more than ever. I'm not certain I'd feel comfortable nor without guilt were I to take you from the Chantry. Mark my words, having Templars within the group would be a great help. But would the Chantry outcast you for it? The people need you now more than ever. Are you absolutely sure you want to risk your reputation with would-be murderers, Ser..?" she hasn't gotten most of their names. In the heat of battle shaking hands and swapping names aren't good form. Her words are directed to both Templars as well as Jasper, the stakes are high for everyone.

(Blysse&Cash coming soon)

Blysse was relieved Ryuu and Arvin remained with her, ever alert. Upwards she can see the outline of the hawk still making a round of the area. The Dalish smiles at Ryuu's jesting suggestion and tightens Severia's cloak around Cash's shoulders. Cash knows he's not cut out for this sort of thing, this...adventuring. He's a tetchy caitiff after all although one day he's love to be a valiant, witty bard. It's still a day far from now. As such Ryuu's intentional teasing riles up the otherwise abashed Dalish. He stiffens his spine and so cue the indignant shriek. "W-what?! You impudent scoundrel, how dare you imply that I am too weak to move on my own!" he narrows his eyes and makes a claw for Ryuu but Blysse smiles sheepishly and hugs Cash tightly so he cannot move.

The young bard grumbles and slumps against his cherished sibling, coming out of his shaken fear. He has absolutely no sense of direction and indeed is a Dalish of poor planning when it comes to epics. Blysse kisses his temple to calm him before holding onto a corner of his cloak. It's a habit they do now from their childhood, to cling to each other in such a way. The huntress can no longer see Dareth but knows the halla will be watching out for them again once he decides to make himself known. He's still a wild animal at heart and is bound by no bridle.

After perhaps another while of encircling the area there are no signs of unwordly dangers. No warning came form Ryuu nor Arvin of sensing Darkspawn so evidently the area is clear. Blysse stops tugging the silently fuming Cash around to glance at her other two companions. "Let us return." she turns Cash by the shoulders in the correct direction and pats his rump to get him moving. The bard snaps at his sister but slowly plods along through the mud, wincing at how soaked he is and irritably headbutting Ryuu's shoulder for it. Blysse smiles brighlty before whistling sharply to hopefully have Valhalla perch on her extended limb or at the very least follow them back to the cave.

Once inside she slowly slinks by the others, cold and weary, wanting to check over her baby brother for wounds or sign of illness. Cash doesn't want to let anyone else in on what happened to him although it could be quite evident from his scuffed trousers. He glowers darkly at stupid Ryuu while his sister begins to tend to his stupid long hair while they wait around in this stupid cave. Face pinched in annoyance he puffs himself up by inhaling slowly to fill his chest cavity. Blysse, confused as always by her brother's foul temperance, jabs a finger into his navel, making him flail and smack her upside the head before falling on his ass. Blysse's eyes narrow from being struck and she retaliates by smartly snapping her bowstring against Cash's thigh. The Dalish siblings soon settle down to rest in the back of the cave, mildly observing the group for the time being. They'll leave it up to Ryuu or Arvin, either Warden, to inform the rest of their empty findings.

Jasper listened politely to the elucidation provided by the lady knight, and then the not-quite-so-friendly exchange between herself and the Templars. Clearly, the men of the church had never quite learned that it was better to lure flies with honey than vinegar. Then again, for the similarly-employed people he had known, the speaking one would be considered rather polite. He did not know if the same could be said of the other, but, well, such things tended to become apparent with time.

Such as the fact that challenging Ser Sev might not be the best idea. Frankly, the woman was Teyrn-level nobility and a Grey Warden and apparently in possession of at least some trust or loyalty from over half of the people here. Trust... now there was an interesting concept. He certainly did not feel that he was trusted, but this was nothing less than his expectation. The course of a battle added to a few exchanged words was not going to be enough unless one were either painfully naive or painfully stupid. Perhaps both. The hound's approval probably counted for something, but in truth he had not been relying upon that in the slightest. He simply liked dogs, and especially mabari. He'd had one once, when he was a child.

Part of Ser Sev's last question was directed at him, but he simply shook his head ruefully. "I assure you, my reputation is not something to be concerned with. I'm afraid that myself and certain non-law-abiding citizens have never got on well, and you can imagine the consequences this has had for both my reputation and my face, eh?" He referred to his scar, but would not correct the assumption that this extended to his 'missing' eye as well. "I have a feeling that in the end, this little adventure might go some distance towards resuscitating my unfortunately... maligned name."

A thought struck him, then, and Jasper stood, making his way outside the cave to where his horse was tied under an outcropping of stone to avoid the worst of the rain. Rummaging around in one of his saddlebags, he produced several mercifully-dry supplies, and smiled when he heard a whistle. Were that meant to direct Valhalla, it would mean nothing to her. All of the pitches attached to commands were very specific, just so the bird would not be confused by incidental noise. Still, he appreciated what someone (his guess would be the Dalish lass) was trying to do, and so he countermanded it with his own sound, the correct one, that the bird would actually follow them.

"The scouts have returned," he announced upon returning to the cave. Jasper found a flat stone and laid out his provisions. Most of it was travelers' food, but none of it was awful. "Anyone hungry? Take what you'd like." They'd probably be stopping in a new settlement eventually anyway, and the money to purchase supplies was not something the man lacked. He personally broke off half a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese. With his other hand, he selected some jerky and raised an inquiring eyebrow at Sev. "May I?" he asked, indicating Kujo.

When the scouts returned, he simply nodded in greeting and repeated the offer of supplies. They'd probably be off soon, but eating and riding at the same time wasn't all that difficult.

Ryuu smiled as the answer came for his teasing as he shrugged. "He's perfectly alright.." He said this with a calm expression, when Blysse said that they should return. He nodded and folllowed behind the siblings. Once inside the cave he leaned against the wall nearest to the mouth of the cave his eyes closed. Though as Blysse left it up to them to reply their findings he pushed off the wall and walked closer to the group. "We found nothing, I could not feel any darkspawn near by, and the bird didn't chirp about anything either" The findings spoken he returned to where he was, though not for long as the greeting from Lenwë pinned him down to the ground, this causing laughs from the male as he scratched the heavy beast between his ears.

Once he was released from the Warg that held him captive under his bulk he sat up and nuzzled into the fur of his head. "I told you I'd be fine, you worry to much" He said this calmly as he just continued to nuzzle into his mounts head, it wasn't to often that Lenwë and he were separated. He was able to finally settle Lenwë down he was able to finally stand up and return to leaning against the wall, Lenwë perched beside him. He knew the decision would be to leave soon, and due to that he was already ready, not like he carried much on his person. He closed his eyes and settled in waiting for word to move. Though as one of the new arrivals laid out his provisions, Ryuu only tilted his head and examined what the man had. He felt his stomach urge him to accept the offering, but he wasn't going to; at least not yet. He wasn't one to stand out in the crowd, and for that he never was the first to reach for something. however strong his stomach urged him to do so.

Arvin stalked in after the three, shaking off some of the water that soaked his fur near the entrance of the cave. Ryuu delivered the news that they were all clear. For now at least. Arvin didn't feel like reverting to his elven form, what with the Templar around. He felt safest having some natural weapons if one went crazy and decided to attack. Templar have their views on mages, and mages have their views on the way Templar act. Arvin did not even spare the armored men a contemptuous look, he simply moved in front of the two mages that they'd met earlier that day. Curling up near them, the lynx decided to rest there. Arvin was glad that he'd hunted earlier before they had found the second party. He was too tired to go out to get anymore food. The near constant battles since fleeing Ostagar had taken their toll. Arvin wanted nothing more than to sleep for many hours.

Though the alluring scent of meat arose from the offered supplies. Arvin didn't want to take a lot of the offered food, in case they'd need more but.. just a bit. It was enough to drag the lynx from his curled position, padding over and sniffing at the offered food before taking a couple strips of dried meat for himself. Giving a grateful nod to the newcomer, though the man seemed to be occupied with Kujo's hulking form. Arvin gave a quiet, grating chuckle. An odd sound coming from the lynx. Arvin moved back to the mages he'd been lying before, and curled up again, chewing and tearing pieces off of the jerky slowly, hoping to make it last long enough to sate his apatite for the time being. He'd try and get a bit of sleep after he was finished eating.

---Blodwyn Akritas---

She could tell that the Dalish woman had no intentions of accepting the propositions given her. Few of her people had ever agreed to accept job opportunities from humans, and that was well enough. This one would have been unruly and an effort to break in. Blodwyn had too much of a headache to wish to deal with any of that at the moment.

She smiled when Ceallach presented her with her requested cup of tea. Taking a sip, she let out a satisfied sigh and leaned her head back against her chair. “It is perfect, thank you.”

“And, no, Ceallach,” Blodwyn continued, “I doubt that she will be willing to accept our offer.” Blodwyn glanced over at Valen and he, in return, shrugged his shoulders at her. They had had a good run of business in Lothering so far, and one Dalish woman would not be a great loss, white hair or not. It was not worth making trouble over. Valen would have surely been up for forcing the woman into slavery, but they had sent their guards off with their last shipment, and making a scene without protection would not bode well for them.

Blodwyn was just about to bid her goodbyes to the Dalish woman when she saw something rather peculiar through the tent flaps. “Oh, look Valen, there’s a man leading a halla outside of our tent.”

---Valen Akritas---

Valen looked over at where Blodwyn was gazing and saw that there was indeed a man outside their tent who had put a rope around the neck of a halla (ah, that was what those deer-things were called) and was busy dragging it away. From what Valen could see, the man had already managed to get it quite a way’s away from the tent.

Valen glanced over at Merle and raised an eyebrow. “Is that not your pet?” She had come along riding atop one of those halla and Valen was pretty sure that that was the one she had owned.

Blodwyn looked over him and gave him a look that more or less said ‘Let her go, we’ll find others – she would make unneeded trouble for us. Valen agreed with a nod.

“So,” Valen directed his words at the elvish man his sister had recently bought, “I trust you will be packing our things soon. Do take care not to break anything.” Valen grimaced at the thought of entrusting the care of his valuables to this elf, but his sister seemed to already be fond of the help he provided, so Valen said nothing more on the subject.

“Did Father say he would meet us along the way to the ball?” He suddenly asked his sister. They were bound to be heading in the direction of the Ferelden summer home of one of the Tevinter Imperium’s most respected nobles soon – it was there that a large and lavish ball was to be hosted. Anyone who was anyone in Thedas would surely be attending. And that, of course, meant that he and his family would be there to attend.

Blodwyn tore her attentions away from watching the Dalish woman who had ran off after her halla, “Yes, I do believe so. Either that or he will meet us there, depending on whether or not he will be delayed in Denerim.”

---Gann Mulsantir---

He notched a bolt in the crossbow and aimed. Once he was certain that it was all in position he released the bolt. It flew outwards, swift and deadly, seeking out its target to deliver the Pinning Shot.

The bolt caught the man in the back of the knee, breaking out through the front of his kneecap. The thief cried out as he crumpled to the ground. Gann, still holding his crossbow in one hand, a new bolt notched already, guided his mare over to the man.

"That was not your halla." Gann stated as he reigned up beside the writhing thief, who was desperately trying to get the bolt out, but was shrieking every time he touched at it.

"You bastard!" He yelled at Gann, face contorted with rage and pain.

Gann shrugged and repeated himself, "It was not your halla."

"How, by Andraste's saggy tits, would you know that? Maybe I'm part Dalish!"

"You are not part Dalish." Gann said, un-amused.

"What if I was?!" The man continued to yell and then let out a hiss as he prodded at his bleeding, shattered kneecap.

"You are certainly not," Gann scoffed at the thought, "I will return this halla to where you found it."

He swung himself off his horse and walked over to the halla. Hesitantly, and with more than a hint of reverence for the creature, he reached out a large hand and patted it on the nose. "Where is your real owner, friend?" Just as he said it he heard the swift pattering of footsteps coming up from behind.

Gann turned around and was met with the sight of a young white-haired Dalish woman approaching them at a sprint. By the expression on her face he judged that the halla must be hers, and that she was very much angered by the events that had unfolded themselves. The thief was trying to wriggle himself away from them. Gann, not even bothering to look down at the man, shifted his crossbow into position and fired off another bolt into the man's ankle. Another scream tore from the thief's throat, followed by a string of choice curse words directed at Gann.

"You should not have been trying to get away. You owe an apology to the woman you tried to steal from." Gann said matter-of-factly as he glanced over his shoulder at the writhing, bleeding thief. "You will not die from that. And you will not steal anymore because you will know better."

Bruce took a while to try to register what Serveria had said, it had been beaten into his head that he was always to address people with the proper rank or profession that they had. Ser for knights, lower nobility and fellow Templars, Knight-Commander for the Templar superiors or if their rank exceeded that then it would be different, and in this case Warden was the correct way for Bruce to address Severia. It would have to take some time to get used for the less formal reference to Severia.

“I am Ser Bruce Le-Guy,” Bruce said, figuring that it would be simple to skip the entire procedure of where he hailed from and that he had been newly transferred from the Towerof Mages to the Chantry in Denerim, “And if you have not already meat Ser Raelnor-” Bruce said in order to ensure himself that all formalities were met.

“Warden…I mean, Ser Sev,” Bruce corrected himself, “While Ferelden is in need of its religion it is also in need of models to lead them through these times of darkness. The Chantry represents hope for the people, however if even the idolized people don’t act then there is no hope. No one to look up to and support.”
Bruce then gave a faint smile, almost impish to the last question, if the Chantry would outcast the two if they worked with the Grey Wardens, “Fear not, Ser Sev. I know two Knight-Commnaders whom are already aware of my additional services outside of the Chantry’s policies. They will not make us outcasts, and-” Bruce breathed in air as if he was about to reveal a climax point in his point, “The Chantry explicitly will not take part of political motivated quests, however, once a quest involves Chantry business, Templars will line up to participate.”

Bruce had been referring to the times when he had become the judge and executed mages in the Wild as he saw their crimes being simply too great for the mage to be allowed an honorable trial (though the trials never were fair for the apostate declared mages and humiliated them even further).

The Chantry was indeed not meant to search for political goals within the politics of Ferelden, however if the Chantry found that it was concerning its business, then the Templars often gathered to do their duty, in some cases it had become an Exalted March in other cases they were merely fights or skirmishes between the Chantry. Bruce had, on the other hand, heard that in the Free Marches, there was use of a different practice, where the Chantry took up direct political struggle between the political city-states of the Marches. Though whether or not that was true, Bruce didn’t know.

“Asides from that. The reputation that you gain from being a Templar is something which you carry with you till your death. Only those who betrays the Chantry are bound to loose everything that they ever held dear,” Bruce concluded. “But I…I want to see that General Teyrn Loghain pays for his crimes,”[/b] Bruce said darkly, “I lost Brothers in the battle of Ostagar and he is to blame. This is Chantry business; he deliberately allowed the men of the Maker to die by the hands of such unholy creatures. I know not of Ser Raelnor-” Bruce spared the other Templar a glace-“But to me, this is Chantry business. A matter between justice and allowing an traitor to live.”

The scout group returned, Bruce turned and gave a faint nod, acknowledging their return before he turned to Severia, “We ought to return to the road, Warden…I mean, Ser Sev,” Bruce said, correcting himself again, just as faint sun rays could be seen rising from the horizon.

Both Jasper and Ser Bruce both seem to be in agreement to come with Severia and the others. Raelnor mad no opposition, set to remain with his fellow Templar as well as find the kidnapped girl. If it came later they were in danger it would be fairly noted that she gave them the freedom to turn away and always would. The same choice is available to anyone else, even her fellow Grey Wardens. Severia would not blame any of them for finding reason to leave their strife. Personally for Severia she will stand and continue to fight by any means. Anything valued is worth fighting for. Ferelden is and will forever be her home. Loghain's name makes her jaw clench. Another reason for her not to be dubbed 'Warden' so openly, the wrong ears could hear the term and equally untrustworthy eyes could read lips. "Ser Bruce then. I will be glad to have knights of the Chantry help us as we will help you in whatever way we can." the scouts return and Severia nods to Ser Bruce's prompt to hit the road.

When Jasper brings out some rationed food Severia's interest is piqued. Food in general is a hidden vice of hers. Sweets are on another level entirely. After being denied her generous life of nobility she's come to appreciate simple things tenfold. Food, water, bathing, sleep, and shelter. For herself she takes some of the bread and dried meat to form a small sandwich to nibble on. "Mm, thank you Jasper.", looking up at the inclinded treat she nods her consent to let Kujo have the food. It was appreciated that he asked before simply tossing the bit to her spoiled mabari, "Be sure to make him work for it." the lady knight takes some extra food and approaches Ryuu, forcing it upon him stubbornly out of concern. Kujo meanwhile knows what is going on. Standing on his paws quickly he begins to tremble out of excitement. He shifts his weight from paw to paw, maw quaking open with drooling jowels as he began to yap impatiently at Jasper and eagerly performed whatever the man asked of him to get the morsel.

Severia had encouraged to move the group within the hour. Due to their staggering size she split the group up to a handful of packs. The Templars with a majority of the mages and the rest flaking off to arrive from different trails leading to Lothering. Once all found boarding she'd give out spare gold to those who wanted a room. Severia has come to care little for the rest of her gold, most of it stored in Highever and thusly inaccessible, she is a Grey Warden and has no need for luxurious, frivolous taste. The rest was difficult with Kujo hogging half of her bed. He's not allowed in tent with her at camp as he patrols dutifully but in a civilized setting he has free reign. No matter how many times she tossed, got frustrated, sat up and snarled his name, the mabari simply waggled his tail at his Lady before plopping his head over his crossed forelegs on the bed.

Lothering was in shambles but Severia managed to find a pond not far off to bathe in with Kujo encircling the area, barking away would be peepers and intruders. Also mending her armor she donned it over her tunic and leggings. They are all to meet at the local tavern to plan their next move after purchasing needed equipment and supplies, at least within two hours. She ran into Raelnor at one stalls and the two agreed to keep company until meeting up with the others in the tavern. Severia did little shopping before catching rumor of slavers. She frowns upon the slave trade and is a known activist against it. The Couslands had in recent months actually sent soldiers to raid slave warehouses and free those in chains while bringing slavers to jail or the guillotine in their courtyard.

Bribing for some instruction (although the man admitted he wouldn't mind joining her in bed to which Severia showed her teeth) she takes Kujo walking down the muddy trail. Seeing the appointed tent she simply strides in her face bereft of any warmth or humor as usual. "Lady Blodwyn, Ser Valen..!", what has she just walked into? She recognizes the blood mage and her unsavory knight brother, bowing her head respectfully, "My apologies for barging in, I was seeking out someone else..." she blinks in surprise and keeps her gaze on Blodwyn to make a pointedly refrain from having to look upon Valen. Wretched man. Meanwhile Kujo tears his way inside. Bristling at Valen he doesn't get reacquainted with the man's codpiece just yet, but rather bounds for Blodwyn and bows at her feet, whimpering and nuzzling her knees. The mabari well remembers the genteel maiden when the Akritas siblings had visited Highever years ago.

(Dalish siblings coming later~)

---Blodwyn Akritas---

“We will be heading to a ball at the summer home of Lord Atrimo Adea,” Blodwyn answered Ceallach’s inquiry as the Dalish woman ran out of the tent. She glanced over at Valen and he, in return, shrugged his shoulders at her. They had had a good run of business in Lothering so far, and one Dalish woman would not be a great loss, white hair or not. It was not worth making trouble over. Valen would have surely been up for forcing the woman into slavery, but they had sent their guards off with their last shipment, and making a scene without protection would not bode well for them.

---Valen Akritas---

Quite suddenly, and without any warning, a woman burst through the tent flaps. Valen’s hand went immediately to the pommel of his sword, ready to draw his weapon and fight. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Blodwyn immediately grab the arm of her slave and move him in front of her. Blodwyn was about as useful in a one on one swordfight as a Templar was in a circus.

Alas, what Valen had just found himself face to face with made him desire to kick a small child. Severia Cousland had just made her way into their tent and Valen was sure that that damned slobbering mabari of hers was going to barge in soon afterwards.

“Ser Sev!” His sister exclaimed and Valen saw a grin blossom across her face. Had they been at a formal party or wearing rich clothing, he was sure that she would have addressed the woman as ‘Lady Cousland’.

“What a pleasure, Ser Sev.” Valen said, his tone polite and dry, but strained with dislike.

Just then, Severia’s mangy mutt bounded inside. Valen took a step back, but was relieved to see the mabari bond over to her sister. And, by the Maker, Blodwyn looked as if her smile might just split her face in half.

---Blodwyn Akritas---

Blodwyn let go of Ceallach’s arm and knelt down to scratch Kujo behind both ears. “Who’s a good, strong, fierce boy? You are!” She scratched the mabari under the chin and made several more noises of praise. Two things that Blodwyn liked above much else were children and dogs. She was never this openly affectionate with grown adults. It was a pity that she had no mabari treats with her. Blodwyn made a mental note of stocking up for the future.

Blodwyn straightened up and managed to tone down her silly smile. “You see, this is why I love coming to Ferelden, it is never long before one meets a mabari!” she said, then added, “Valen, you simply must get one at some point.”


“I would rather avoid something altogether so unpleasant, sister,” he replied, utterly without humor.

“It is lovely to see you, Ser Sev. I must admit I am surprised to see you in Lothering.” Blodwyn said as she straightened up, but still continued to scratch at Kujo’s head with one hand. “Pray tell, who were you looking for?”

---Gann Mulsantir---

"No thanks are needed. You do not thank someone for doing the right thing. You thank only for favors. This was not a favor.” As far as Gann was concerned, it was common knowledge that only the Dalish knew how to bet take care of halla. So, not only had that man been a thief, but also a liar. And he would most likely have also lead to the creature’s death, and the halla had not done anything to the thief to warrant it having to be mistreated to death.

He was inwardly glad that she had not held out her hand in greeting, as many did and then expected him to shake it. Gann had never enjoyed being touched by others – the contact of skin against skin was, at best, uncomfortable. Why people insisted on groping one another in greeting, he would never fully understand. “I am Gann Mulsantir.”

“What is a Dalish woman doing without her clan? These are troubled times.” His words held no threats towards her, merely a blunt inquiry. He looked over the Dalish woman as he spoke, noting the weapon she carried – two blades, so most likely she was a dual-wielder.

“That is a strong halla; I can see she is well cared for.” A corner of his mouth twitched up ever so briefly into something that could have been categorized as a smile. Yet, an actual smile would have looked severely out of place on the face of this man.

Ryuu had taken the food with a nod in thanks. The journey wasn't so bad. Ryuu and Lenwë came in from a western angle. he decided he'd rest near the inn but not within. He didn't really think it'd be that great to be in an enclosed area. Though as the gold was handed out Ryuu shook his head and smiled. He didn't want any, he had his own gold no need to take Severia's. Once the split up again after the agreed meeting at the tavern, he was off to buy some arrows. He needed more for his bow. finding a merchant willing to sell to him; (Didn't seem like his dalish leather was well liked amongst the humans) He bought a quiver of arrows.

He then moved on to another stall, one that supplied food, meaning to buy his own, taking quite a few pieces of dried meat for his mount that rested on the outskirts of the town. He paid the amount and was off on his way, to give the large quantity of meat to Lenwë, placing it right near the warg's hiding place, and was off again. He pulled down the hood of his cloak stopping on the stone bridge that linked the market and tavern to the entrance of the small village, leaning against one of the sides. He needed some time alone away from the group, it was easier to pass in and out of thoughts and ideas, though soon enough a small boy, at least he thought it was boy tugged on the hem of his cloak. "scuse' me ser, do 'ou have any coin, or food to spare?" Ryuu, had he still been in Antiva would have known better to give anyone, let alone children money or food, but here he felt himself pull out a silver coin along with a hunk of cheese placing both on the boys hands. "here now run, and try and keep this to yourself, I'd rather not become known as the generous giant elf" He said, causing the child to smile and run off.

Ryuu felt a warmth gather in the pit of his gut making him laugh alittle, "how do I always end up falling for small children and furry creatures" He thought to himself and then pushed himself off the side of the bridge turning and walking, though he noticed a familiar person. Severia; on just alittle ways off, deciding it'd be nice to be near a friendly face instead of being around strangers. He watched her enter a tent tilting his head to the side and soon enough he was upon the tent himself, standing outside and listening to her words, before watching Kujo burst forth into the tent, and causing enough opening for Ryuu's form to be seen. He knew he didn't have a reason to hide now, and with that he strode in too. "Hello Ser Sev. Sorry for listening in, old habits.." He stated shyly rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes adjusted to the light of the tent and could make out two people within that he didn't know. Though he had caught their names from Severia, he had watched Kujo bow but was not inclined to do the same. He had no reason too, he did however stay close to Severia, not feeling very comfortable amongst these two unknown people; Blodwyn and Valen. Though he watched them closely the way the woman; Blodwyn addressed Severia. He crossed his arms and watched them closely, his eyes were calm, and his facial expression empty, though what his form betrayed was that he was ready to pounce at anytime if the situation grew violent, even if it was a misunderstanding.

Tiaryn Ormet

For quite some time, she simply lay there, sprawled out upon the roof of the tavern as though nothing in the world mattered any longer. And in truth, she could not say with any degree of certainty that anything did. Overhead, the clouds of yesterday's rain moved slowly across a blued sky, but they no longer held the same childish delight for her that they once had. Dim memories, lost somewhere to the seep of time, conjured the image of a small boy with vivid blue eyes and a rakish grin, pointing to each of them and babbling excitedly in the voice of an Antivan, nudging the barely-older girl by his side, cajoling her to join him in his game.

The girl, she knew, would have obliged, just to see her brother's silly, toothy grin. He had been shielded from the real sadness of an urchin's life, as though that smile were too wide, too bright to let such gloom anywhere near it, and his sister had selfishly seized upon every opportunity to see it, that her own spirits might be lifted as well. At least until the day he stopped smiling.

Useless... Tiaryn rolled onto her side, watching the goings-on below with what was at best utter apathy. Some other day, it might have even been tinged with contempt, or perhaps envy, but today, she was simply too weary to summon such feelings. Mismatched eyes disappeared languidly behind pale lids, reappearing at length only to fly wide. She thought she had seen- but no. Surely it could not be. Perhaps the attention she had put to evading capture was dulling her senses, leaving her mind at the mercy of her misery, to taunt her with ghosts as it saw fit. Different ghosts than earlier, but still.

The figment of her imagination disappeared, into a tent- or at least, that was what would have happened had that man not been long dead. And yet... she'd never seen the body, just the wrapped corpse the Crows had disposed of as they would any traitor. As they would dispose of her, should she ever be found. Maybe that was it... some primal fear of death was conjuring his image, either to give her false hope or just cement her fate in her own mind, it was hard to say.

But she could not shake it, could not force the apparition to disappear from her mind's eye. Something about it- maybe it was the way the intervening time had changed the image as her mind alone could not- something bid her believe her eyes.

Well, there was one way to find out. She would watch that tent until all the occupants left it. Not a conventional measure, perhaps, but such a wait in stillness would be as nothing for someone trained to do just that kind of thing. Even so, this might be easy for her body, but... would it be quite so simple for her mind?

Asmara Surana

Asmara woke from the dead-away sort of sleep that was usually only enjoyed by children and the completely untroubled feeling more rested than she had in what seemed an eternity. And why shouldn't she? She was surrounded by Wardens, and mages, and people who at the very least meant her well, or so it seemed from what she could tell. There was no reason for disturbed sleep, not then, and her walk in the Fade had been just as sunny as the world outside was this morning.

Sitting upright, she attempted to meet the ceiling of the cave with her fingertips, relieved that the futile effort produced no pain, and smiled, standing. From the flow of conversation, it seemed that they would be moving out for Lothering- which she gathered was a small town- quite shortly, and that they would be splitting up to do it. Nodding to herself (that made sense, after all), she volunteered to accompany Ser Le-Guy and anyone he might take with him. There should probably be one Warden in any group, after all, and Ser Sev did not seem particularly eager to accompany the Templars exactly, and she was almost certain the magi-Warden wouldn't choose to. She had no idea what the fourth Warden's opinion was, but it wasn't as though she minded.

The journey itself passed rather uneventfully, and Asmara spent most of her time studying the local flora. She had something of a flair for medicines and poultices, so herbology was always of interest to her. She made light, happy conversation with anyone who would listen, at least until they came upon the town proper. Here, she hesitated. She and towns, especially Chantry towns, hadn't historically had very good interactions. It seemed that the people who lived in them disliked her for some reason. She figured it must be her magic, but then sometimes she wondered how they could tell so easily, even when she wasn't carrying her staff. It was strange.

She also had no idea what to do when she got there, actually. Provisions would be nice; she had gratefully and with much ado accepted Ser Sev's sovereign, but she was truthfully unsure if anyone would sell to her. That had been a problem in the past also. Biting her lip, she quickly glanced around at the other members of her party, hoping that maybe someone wouldn't mind her tagging along with them.

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.

Jasper split off from the group he wandered into town with relatively early on; as it was, he had some business to take care of, regarding things he would rather nobody have the information to question him on.

Of course, there were more mundane matters to be attended to first, and he had little difficulty securing himself enough food to replenish his depleted stores and then some. He no longer had access to his family's coffers, mostly because his family had no idea where he was. Luckily, his own personal fortune was rather extensive, though never carried on his person except in large enough amounts to accommodate any possible emergency. He'd have to start carrying more, of course, to cover any extra expenses the Wardens would incur. Nobody would say he hadn't done his part to assist, not when he was essentially tagging along with little discernible reason.

Loading his saddlebags with his accumulated purchases, Jasper left Valhalla perched upon his saddle to deter anyone with wandering hands from liberating his possessions and entered what he took to be the town's sole tavern. Pausing for a moment, he looked at the ground. Now there's an oddly-shaped shadow if I've ever seen one, he thought, referring to a disturbance in the roofline as cast upon the earth in front of him. Tracing his eye upward, he could just make out a corresponding shape, one that most certainly belonged to a person. Shrugging, he decided it was none of his business anyway and pulled open the door.

Inside, he found all the usual types, plus a more-than-healthy dose of refugees, and shook his head a bit, disturbing his shaggy coiffure. It was not long, however, before he spotted the man he was looking for, looking rather less desperate than the poor beleaguered folk that surrounded him. He sat at the bar, nursing his ale and generally not drawing attention to himself, which was rather impressive considering he had to be at least six and a half feet tall, one of the few people Jasper knew who could actually claim to be taller than he. "Ser Durwald," the rogue greeted amicably, taking the seat nearest the fellow.

"Runt," the man replied tersely, but this only caused the pirate to laugh. "You're late, as always."

Grinning, Jasper motioned for the bartender to bring him something rather better than the swill that he knew passed for ale here. A small glass only a third full of a bright amber liquid was placed in front of him, and he took a sip before responding, which he knew would only aggravate the old man further. "Always? That is rather cruel of you, Ser. I am often early, and occasionally even on time. I cannot be where you would expect me to be in every instance, else I fear I would become quite frighteningly predictable."

Durwald rolled his eyes and took a swig of his ale, clearly unimpressed. It had always been this way, though, since Jasper was but a boy learning to hold his blades. The Bryland armsmaster, warrior though he was, had mastered the traditionally-rogue art of dual weapon-wielding, and the fundamentals of Jasper's own bastardized Duelist style were his. "Your mother once again bids me implore you to return. Habren is becoming rather out-of-hand, and your parents worry that she should not succeed them."

Jasper sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This, too, he had heard before. "And I'm telling you- and Mother- that she'll grow out of it. Habren may enjoy Father's fortune a bit too much, but she's got a good head on her shoulders, you'll see." His sister was known for being something of a grievance, but she was only a teenager. His parents should consider themselves fortunate; at that age, he'd already run away and joined his first crew.

Removing a sealed piece of parchment from his pocket, Jasper handed it over to Durwald. "An update, as promised. Had to make a fair few changes just last night, actually..." This naturally earned him a raised brow from the old armsmaster, but he would divulge no more than that. Not even his family could know the full details of what was happening, but he had included in the letter a plea that they assist the cause of the Wardens. His family carried some fair sway within the nobility, after all, and many a Bann considered Bryland his or her liegelord.

The rest of the meeting was spent in banter and conversation, studiously did each man steer away from anything serious in nature. It was too short a time, though, before the younger of the two men sensed the urgency of departure and took his leave, instructing his compatriot to meet him again, and that any changes would be replayed by Valhalla.

For that night the Dalish siblings camped just outside of Lothering without a fire, enjoying a small cavern they found. It had been occupied by a small bear whom tolerated their presence after Cash played it a lullaby. They weren't concerned with staying too close to the rest of the party. Arvin is a childhood friend of theirs before he was taken away by the Magi, before Templars swept through the area in search of those with promise. Dalish and Templars died that day from the Clan's resistance. It's when their father changed for the worse. Now though they've been reunited with Arvin and are joyous to be helping the Grey Wardens.

When morning came they crawled out of their makeshift den, thank the bear, and took a quick dip in a nearby river before dressing and heading into Lothering. They've never been in this place but all of the shemlen look so very...down trodden. No doubt the work of the Blight. Cash, as reticent as ever, keeps his mouth shut and doesn't look at anyone. Simply the space ahead of himself. Both are wearing their usual outfits gifted to them before they left their Clan (Blysse's was a gift, Cash stole the ligneous autumn armor). It suits them as Blysse is rather orchidaceous while Cash is somber and rough around the edges. Once in town they share a chaste family kiss before parting their respective ways for the time being. While siblings they are not always joined at the hip.

Cash would impugn the level of intelligence any shemlen has to offer. He had barely come to terms with getting along with Severia but all the rest are usually met with stone silence. To get a word out of the Dalish bard as a shemlen is like drawing blood from a stone. He ignores the stalls, knowing very well as a Dalish he could be turned down from business. Instead he will try to establish his own coin. He pulls out his instrument and begins to play a song for coin, standing at a corner near the shops. Degrading? Somewhat. Is he desperate enough to do it? Most assuredly.

Meanwhile Blysse had gone towards a weapon vendor, making elaborate gestures to the arrows she wanted and barking off shemlen numbers. She has no idea what she is saying but it's upsetting the merchant. When he begins yelling at her she narrows her eyes. Oh now that's just rude! Her hair is braided and tied with a leather string decorated with halla antler points. Sharply pivoting on a heel, whipping the man across the face, she marches off with a meager sigh, puffing out her cheeks indignantly. The bright Dalish recognizes a black mare waiting outside of a tall building. As well as the predatory bird atop it. "Valhalla." she greets triumphantly and walks near the horse, petting the mare's neck before making a kissy face at the hawk. She awoke this morning without Dareth. The halla wandered off on his own accord but it still makes Blysse pine for his company as she regards him highly. He is second only to Cash in her book. With her quirky greeting completed her hazel eyes land on the elongated man. "Jasper, hello! Nehn vunin. Your horse is lovely." well at least she got some shem-talk in that time. And she recalled his name from last night.


(Updated outfits for both Dalish siblings in their profiles~)

Shadow's still there... Jasper thought absently as he exited the tavern. He was considering simply making his way back to the rendezvous point just a little bit beyond the bounds of Lothering, but that was before he spotted the Dalish miss making a most peculiar face at his bird. When she spoke, though, he smiled. He did not find the fact that she seemed more interested than his companions than himself an insult; quite the contrary. He was of the opinion that animals were rather more pleasant than people also- it was in his blood. Falconing was the trade and lifeblood of the Brylands, and there were no finer scout or messenger birds anywhere.

Unfortunately, it was only as he was opening his mouth to reply that he recalled the reason for her strangely lilting accent, and remembered that he knew perhaps a grand total of five Dalish words, three of which he'd asked the girl Asmara for on the way here. He spoke fluent Orlesian and was a fair hand with Antivan as well, but completely useless here. Rather ironic, considering the relative closeness of his family holdings to the Brecilian forest, but then it hardly surprised him that his tutors would consider such things unimportant. Well, you didn't succeed if you didn't try, right? "Ma serranas," he replied haltingly, tilting his head slightly to one side. They had come here for supplies, but it did not take all of his considerable skill in observation to surmise that she had not yet acquired any. Even easier to guess was the reason- he highly doubted that the merchants here knew any more Dalish than he did.

"Pardon me, but... Lady Blysse, was it?" he was fairly certain he'd heard someone (Ser Sev perhaps?) call her so, but then he wasn't sure and hoped he wasn't wrong. No faster way to insult someone than confusing them with someone else, especially if they did not think themselves at all similar... ever formal event he'd been to came to mind. "Do you need to acquire some supplies? Erm... assan nuvenan?" His grin became a slightly-sheepish one; you didn't need to speak Dalish to guess that his grammar was probably atrocious, to say nothing of his pronunciation. He gestured at her quiver just to be sure, and then to the nearest cluster of merchant stalls. It certainly wouldn't do to have someone bereft of necessary supplies because of a language barrier. Or flagrant racism, for that matter, which unfortunately was just as likely.

Lisa Smith

Lothering was an interesting city. Refugees were swarming through the city, yet no one of these refugees had any real information concerning either the Grey Warden or the advance of the Darkspawns. Frightened peasants…Have they no sense of duty for their nation? None of these men, women or children has as much as tried to gather some form of knowledge about the threat that will bring an end to them if they don’t do something, Lisa thought angrily as she was getting Carmen out of the stables and preparing to leave Lothering. It was clearly a waste of time to stay here if there wasn’t going to come any real…

Lisa’s train of thoughts were cut short as she saw a packs of people walking down the Imperial Highway, towards Lothering. Well, she wasn’t convinced that they were refugees, whatever light that managed to break through the thick clouds managed to reflect off the armor of the warriors. Well, at least I could give these people a try, Lisa thought as she watched from the city.

Sitting on top of her horse, Carmen, Lisa studied the packs of people as they came closer towards Lothering. Interesting, either these are mercenaries or there is a group of interesting people who found each other, Lisa thought and smiled playfully as she pulled Carmen back into the stables and then she lost herself amongst the crowd of Lothering.

Lisa could see that there was an interesting size of mages that was amongst the packs, and despite the number of mages there were only two Templars, Unusual, Lisa thought. Warriors, rouges, scouts and mages walking together, blood stained clothes, armor and a Templars without his uniform helmet. This was diffidently not a common pack of refugees that was for certain. Lisa decided that she would shadow the one with the dog.

Lisa stayed out of the sight of interest and like the woman with the marbari dog, she pretended as if she was interested in goods that were for sale, though the prices were outrageously high due to the current state of the nation. Lisa’s curiosity just got stronger when the woman walked with one of the Templars, How do they know each other? Are they with the other mages? Lisa thought as she shadowed the steps of the two. Her steps then came to a halt as the woman exclaimed in surprise. ‘Lady Blodwyn, Ser Valen..!’ More friends? Unexpected allies? Lisa thought, feeling a childish smile spreading on her lips.

Lisa was a master in deceit, she could be in wide spread inner panic however on the outside she would appear however she would need to in order to not gain attention of anyone. Quickly buying a hand mirror and some form of makeup for women, Lisa walked behind Severia and Raelnor, holding the mirror up to her face and looked into the reflection, pretending to be interested in the makeup that she was smearing out on her face while her true attention was for the two people she had been stalking and the two whom they were talking to. Who were they?

---

[cebter]Ser Bruce Le-Guy[/center]

Bruce had nodded to Serveria’s orders and followed along with the rest, staying with Raelnor in the group with the most mages. If they were to be stopped by anyone, they could simply claim that they were escorting the mages along the Imperial Highway. The entire walk had been uneventful and quiet, Bruce hadn’t really felt the least bit talkative with his companions, why should he? He normally didn’t socialize with mages.

Bruce didn’t wish to see mages running around too freely. He still didn’t have complete trust to neither Asmara nor Antius. He didn’t see why he really should, they were mages he was a Templar and it would forever remain like that, they had a curse and a blessing while Bruce was given abilities and training to ensure that they didn’t go out of hand.

“Mage Antius, I would advise against learning spells such as this…Shapeshifting. It is apostate magic and not something that the Chantry doesn’t looks kindly on,” Bruce commented when Asmara and Atnius were talking about magic, though as the subject changed to herbs, Bruce didn’t interrupt or comment at any point. Antius did have a point though, few people would actually question the presence of a mage if there were more than one of them and if a Templar then accompanied them then the risks for questions were minimal.

“That I agree on, mage,” Bruce commented on Antius idea, “I could use some hot soap water to get this blood off my armor. No need to appear as if I was a filthy mercenary, that is not what the Templars are.” Bruce looked at his armor, frowning at the look of blood which was both his own and the dark blood of darkspawns.

When the man thanked her in Dalish her long audits perk instantly. Being out of the forest and away from her Clan has the elf longing for such talk. Speaking the shemlen tongue makes one feel they are chewing on rocks. She is too excited (when isn't she?) to notice the shadow on the ground. Although when Jasper says 'Lady' her head tilts so drastically it's a wonder it doesn't pop off her neck. That term she isn't familiar with but she pats her collarbone with her palm. "Blysse, Blysse. I only Blysse." she manages with an entangled tongue. Still when he talks somewhat about needing arrows (as broken as his words are they work) she claps merrily and bounces around him in a flourished circle, obviously pleased that he is at least attempting Dalish. "Nehn! Yes. Need...aah..." oh she doesn't know the shemlen word for it, but points to her dwindled quiver with a grin.

Unlike most Dalish Blysse has easily warmed up to the shemlens. Well most of them. Mainly the one she has been traveling with thus far although she's certain she'll be alright with the new ones in the group soon enough. She's still easily apt to draw out her bow and take aim at someone yelling at her or her brother. Or threatening an animal. As a huntress she believes wholly in hunting only to survive and using every single part of the animal in some way. It would be dishonorable otherwise just to rip off a dead body's flesh and toss the rest into the world. Very disgraceful and it says little of one's character.

With a friendly smile she grabs the man's sleeve and drags him off to a stall. The same one she had hair-whipped the merchant. For whatever reason the merchant doesn't seem pleased to find the glowing elf at his stand again and crosses his arms, cheek still reddened from the strike. Blysse's smile never falters as she points out the arrows she wants and earnestly pouts at the merchant. Still the man shakes his head with his arms folded and pinned against his chest. Showing her displeasure again by puffing her cheeks out she looks at Jasper with exasperation. This is not the first time a shemlen has refused her a service and she cannot understand why.

~~~

Severia nodded curtly to Valen. "Good to see you still have use for the sword." she utters dryly, mandible firmly clenched behind her chin. How she speaks to him (or any other unsavory noble), when she angles a hand in greeting...it's all a play. And they must play nice in such thinly tight quarters and with Blodwyn around. Under other circumstances Severia would be all too glad to punch him in the face. Valen was one of her past suitors; it was a failed attempt by her parents for betrothal. Thankfully after the incident with Valen the lady knight saw lest pestering traffic of any further suitors. Most of the fools brought flowers to attempt and placate the Cousland daughter but all were sent away with Kujo at their heels. What use are flowers to a warrior?

Although Kujo is nothing but a bag of kittens under Blodwyn's hands. Severia smirks somewhat as the dog whimpers and clamors all around the woman. Having some manner of poise around women he refrains from drowning her in drool and nudges his nose happily under her arms, tail waddling. "I believe very few can imprint a mabari...mabari only choose those with pure spirit." a jab at Valen as Severia is momentarily distracted by Ryuu popping in. She pats his shoulder in reassurance. "No trouble friend, I've just stumbled upon these two. Lady Blodwyn, Ser Valen, this is my friend, Ryuu." perhaps it'll seem strange for a human to befriend an elf to the Akritas siblings but for a Cousland it has never been bizarre. Still she hopes this won't upset either of them although she does take brief note of a wiry looking elf in the background. Perhaps a servant or a slave.

"I heard rumor of slavers and have been directed here...my apologies agian for intruding. What are you two doing in Lothering?" she feels no jealousy as Kujo remains nearest to Blodwyn. The mabari is quite the lady's man and better gets along with them; women and children. The tent provides shelter from prying eyes and none but her friend Ryuu will have to witness Kujo's embarrassing charm. Kujo sits down by Blodwyn's feet and pants happily, 'smiling', as he leans his head against her hip. Although his eyes briefly scan the elven male (Ceallach) jealously. What business would he have near his second Lady? As such the mabari utters a warning growl, making Severia pinch the bridge of her nose. Hopefully the warhound will refrain from doing anything drastic.

Asmara Surana

The traces of concern immediately dropped from Asmara's expression, and she grinned winningly at her friends, nodding enthusiastically. "Spare robes sound like a good idea. As does soap," she replied, looking down at her own attire. Two weeks on the road had not been kind to the Tevinter-style green fabrics; she was spattered with blood and Darkspawn gore. She wouldn't be surprised if someone mistook her for a feral... what were they called? Blood mages? Something like that anyway. There were also several tears; she'd have to purchase more thread to use with the needles she already carried. Still, she seemed salvageable at the very least, so maybe only one more set.

She noted that Antius was making much the same inspection and shook her head good-naturedly. He really did seem to care an awful lot about his clothes. Maybe it was a Circle thing? She'd have to ask sometime. She wasn't sure why Circle mages wore their robes so long, either; wouldn't it be harder to move in them? She much preferred something a it shorter, with leggings. Warmer, and easier to move around in, too.

It would seem that the group had filtered down quite a bit, but she did not mind. Everyone probably had their own business to attend to, after all. She wondered if any of the people standing around here might know where they could find an armorer, or maybe a tailor. Surely one of those two sorts of people would sell soaps right? Wary but ultimately deciding that maybe not all towns were the same, Asmara approached the nearest non-local-looking resident, who just so happened to be a Chantry priest. "Excuse me, sir," she began politely, "might you be able to tell my friends and I where to find the nearest purveyor of clothing items and soaps?"

The man looked at her strangely for a split second before responding. "Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond." He now seemed to be regarding her appraisingly, though she would not have noticed were it three times as obvious.

Instead, Asmara simply clasped her hands together with delight. She'd heard this before, from one of her teachers! Now, what was it that came next? Oh, right. "All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands, from the lowest slaves to the highest kings. Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker." The small mage hoped that was it; Uriel would be displeased if he ever found out she'd forgotten, and she did love his enchanting poetry so.

The priest nodded simply, and pointed to a storefront lodged in between a few houses a little ways off from the tavern. "And Eileen spoke unto the masses, 'My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours. For all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one.'"
___

The store was small, but its proprietor seemed friendly enough, and did indeed sell soap. This preoccupied Asmara rather longer than it should have; she sniffed each one before making her choice. A few of them were a bit stronger and suitable for cleaning armors, but she wouldn't need those. Luckily, the elderly woman who ran the store also seemed to have a nearly-identical set of garments available, only in darker colors, which was probably good anyway, and these Asmara happily purchased as well. Alteration, like mending, was something she accepted as a fact of life; people could hardly be expected to carry everything in a suitable size, after all.