Ferelden

Ryuu was glad to hear Severia's answer, smiling over at Tiaryn. She had acted so formal, making Ryuu shake his head a few times, but all in all he was all cheers. noting the nod of Antius, he nodded back as he took a seat near Severia. He listened to his words thoughtfully, though his expression darkened at the thought of going to the ball, just to get close the the Teryn, "Yeah, I'll get close..close enough to slit his throat and end him for what he's done" Ryuu whispered; just loud enough so those present could hear his words. His eyes met everyone included at the table, if there was skepticism, his cold eyes would clear it up if they so looked at his face.

He wanted revenge on that no good shem, and he'd take it with; or without the approval of Ser Sev. That was one of his worst traits, he'd do what he thought was right; no matter the cost to him. Though at the mentioning of those horrid siblings he felt his stomach fall as she said she'd be his slave for a day. "You'd do that for us to get close to Loghain, I understand the value of this, but at the risk of your personal well-being is a foolhardy thing to do Severia.." He voiced his opinion on the matter, his eyes closed as he leans back in his chair. He hated the thought of Severia, doing anything that overly pompous golden spoon up the arse tevinter scum would ask her to do. He felt his stomach literally sagging to his feet, and vomit gathering in the back of his throat. He felt the urge to return to the tent and physically scorn both of them wither to death, or close to it; he had not decided yet. Both of them seemed to treat elves with disrespect, and both showed no common ground with anyone but nobility, that in itself deserved a good lashing from sword or dagger.

He had voiced his opinion, his mind now set on what to do, and on how Ser Sev would react to his notion of assassination. He didn't know if she would agree, but he knew; well he felt that both he or Tiaryn could succeed in ending the man's life without consequence, but that would be discussed, they were a group now; and with that he; nor she could risk the safety of the other group members. He turned his head to Cash, and noticed the lady still there; "So she can take a lashing that even a darkspawn would die from, something not right about her.." He thought to himself, standing from his chair and bowing half-way to the group. He made his way to the table cash was at leaning against it. "Hey Cash, i see you have company." He bowed his head to the woman in a gesture of greeting. "We're discussing on what our party is going to do, if you wish to join us, I'll save you a chair" He stated over calmly, smiling at the younger elf, as if to offer saving in case he wished it, and with that he returned to the table that the majority of the group was at reclaiming his chair and awaiting the decisions to be laid bare, and for them to decide on the best course of action.

Ceallach let out a breath of relief as the strands of blood released him and cautiously stretched. He watched a bit dumbly as she healed her wound with magic, rather curious. Those who could use magic were all sent to the Circle of Magi, so it was rare to ever see magic. There was not even a scratch or scar visible—amazing. He wished he could use magic; it seemed very useful. Then the injuries he had received growing up would have never taken so long to heal, and no scars would cover him.

This time when she smiled it was a real one, warm and pleasing. She had a nice smile—too bad it grew so frigid when she became angry. By now Ceallach’s fury had subsided if not completely disappeared—he rarely stayed mad for long to begin with. “Thank you,” he said politely to Blodwyn, figuring it would be a good idea. It seemed that she was no longer angry with him either, but who knew when it might flare back up? He glanced back towards the Dalish girl, nodding subtly in sincere gratitude. She must be kind to be willing to help a stranger.

He was surprised as any other when Valen grabbed his sister and kissed her, but he quickly made himself look busy by focusing on packing their things once more. This was their business, not his, he supposed. He absently listened to the conversation, turning just once more as the others left. And then he continued to prepare their luggage.

Merle Rilynnrae


Merle turned her face to the side when the siblings kissed, feeling more than just a little uncomfortable. She understood that the bond between siblings were strong (though she had no experience with having siblings), but that kiss hadn’t appeared to be so sisterly or brotherly. Her suspicions were confirmed at Gann’s words and those of Blodwyn. Lovely.

Though she wasn’t the type to be startled easily, she certainly was when the tall shemlens informed her in a whisper that the brother had the same eyes as she did. She sucked in a sharp breath, focusing on Valen’s face for a moment, trying to compare them to a mental image of her own. Did her eyes really look like that? She had no idea, but the longer she looked the more she was eerily reminded of the set of eyes that would stare back when she looked into a mirror. Her eyes. It was becoming too much to be a mere coincidence, but even if it wasn’t, she had no idea what that could have meant. Two shemlens that resembled her mother and Merle—what could it mean, anyways? That her mother had given birth to two shemlens? She scoffed inwardly at the thought—it was absurd.

Merle glanced towards the elven boy one last time before leaving without a farewell to any of them. She stopped next to Gann, looking up at him. “My apologies, I did not know that they were slavers,” she said shortly, secretly annoyed that she had been deceived by the simple act of humans—not mention the foolish boy that had interrupted the process that would have saved his bloody skin. Oh well.

She returned her attention back to the curiously golden eyed man while absentmindedly whistling Aithne over to her and swinging on easily. “Well, so much for that—I think I will stop at the tavern,” she said nonchalantly. “Will you be going that way as well?” It wasn’t like she wanted him to go with her—but it was proper to ask, right? Right. Besides, Merle would have liked to buy him a meal for helping her, as much as he said it wasn’t to be thanked. Maybe some humans were good, like her father had said. She thought that since she had met a good human, she would thank him for being good.[/center]

Asmara Surana

Asmara, undaunted, smiled again at the new woman when she sat, and this time, received a slightly-puzzled nod in return, though both of them soon found their attention caught by what Ser Sev was saying. A ball... like a party? Asmara had not had much cause to hear mention of such things that often in her lifetime, and truthfully she was not certain what was entailed in such an event, though it seemed like a celebration of some sort from what people were saying about it. And one thrown in honor of Teyrn Loghain? But why would they want to get anywhere near him? He had betrayed the Wardens at Ostagar and would probably kill any of them on sight-

Oh. Ryuu's meaning was clear enough, even to her, and Asmara looked down at the table, seeming for a moment to study the patterns in the wood grain very intently, tracing one with a finger. Surely... surely it was not something a Warden should do, to kill a person? They were supposed to be the defenders of Thedas, friend to all the citizens of the continent, were they not? She understood that sometimes, people were wicked in their actions, but she did not truly believe in the notion of wicked people. It was hard for her to accept that the only way to deal with the Teyrn was to kill him.

She looked up again, trying to find a sympathetic pair of eyes somewhere, but everyone seemed to be either mulling over it themselves, focusing on something else, or bound and determined to do it. Ryuu himself had disappeared, then returned. She followed the path of his movement to see Cash and that lady again. Hopefully, nothing was wrong there.

But Asmara was trying to distract herself, and she knew it. Gathering her courage, she spoke aloud. "I understand why it might be... easier to do that, but... should we really be doing that, as Wardens?" Green eyes scanned the faces present, but soon dropped back to her hands. She was having difficulty putting words to her thoughts; understandably, this was not a circumstance she dealt with often, and she was unsure how to express what she wished the others to know.

Tiaryn Ormet

That had been a good deal easier than she had expected. It would seem that Ryuu carried a good deal of sway with his fellow Warden, though Tiaryn was hardly surprised. He had that sort of friendly charisma that she could not understand of affect herself. It was part of what made him good at what he did.

She had the impression that she was not immediately liked; though this was hardly a surprise. She was, admittedly, a trained assassin with no social skills and connections only to one person here. She would have been more suspicious if she had been welcomed with open arms. Which was why she was struggling to figure out how to deal with the small blond one. Naturally wary, she was nevertheless unable to detect the slightest hint of manipulation or guile in the grin, so she simply nodded and let it be for now, choosing to focus on the conversation.

Her natural conclusion was that they were attending this fete to kill Loghain, which was why she was hardly surprised when Ryuu expressed the desire to do just that. She did not know why this noble in particular had earned his ire, but then it was her job to kill people, not ask questions about it. Well, it was my job. She was unsure if she had been running from the profession itself or simply the organization that had used her like a tool for the majority of her life. Maybe both; but she would not hesitate to use her skills for the closest thing she'd ever had to a friend.

She kept her peace for the most part during the discussion, though her gaze did follow the only movement that occurred during it, and she wondered if the elven lad Ryuu spoke to was also of their ilk. Her ilk, now, she supposed, at least after a fashion. The only time she contributed was when the blond one raised something of a protest to the notion. "If it is not a job for the Wardens, then perhaps it is a job for me," she replied coolly, raising an eyebrow. she had missed the point of the protest entirely, but then it was difficult for her to conceive of someone having difficulty with killing per se, though she could understand protests to incidents and agents specifically.

She followed the comment with a nonchalant shrug; it didn't really matter to her whether the idea was accepted or not. She personally had no more stake in the man's demise than she had gained from simply being associated with those who wished him dead.

---Gann Mulsantir---

Gann made a tsking sound and Sophie trotted over to him. He swung himself unto her a few moments after Merle had mounted her halla. “There is no need to apologize,” he told her, shrugging his broad shoulders, “if you still wish to help the enslaved boy, I would suggest going to wherever it is they are heading.” Gann had overheard talk of some ball and how the woman who looked very much like a Knight had wished to attend.

"Yes, I was planning on going to the tavern as well,” Gann replied to her inquiry and at the same time felt a rumble in the pit of his stomach. He had not had a good hot meal in a long while. “The Knight-woman, the one who was there at the tent in the beginning, I will be asking to travel alongside her and whoever else is with her.” It was a good enough short-term plan, as he had no other plans besides it.

“Perhaps you as well will consider joining, as there was some talk about the two from the tent going along as well,” he glanced over at Merle, his eyes briefly skimming the length of her white hair – what an oddly pleasant color – before continuing to speak, “that way you may have a chance of helping that boy, if you have any intention of it.”

She was pleasant enough to talk with, unimposing in her company and had not yet decided that it would be a good idea to touch him in any manner. So far, in Gann’s books, that made her good company.

---

They left their mounts outside the tavern. Gann had informed the stable-boy that if either his Sophie or Merle’s halla were to go missing, there would be repercussions. The young boy nodded, eyes wide as saucers, as he craned his neck to stare up at Gann. Satisfied by that response, Gann walked over to the door and pulled it open for Merle, following only after she herself had stepped into the tavern.

His eyes scanned over the crowd, searching for the Knight-woman, and were soon enough able to find her form. Gann stalked his way through the other patrons, clearing out a way for himself and Merle. Some people merely stepped out of his way as they saw the tall man stepped towards them without an intention of stopping.

When he arrived by the Knight-woman’s side, he gave her a nod, not aware of her rank of who she was, otherwise he may have deigned it right to bow or something of the sort. He glanced at the people around her and gave them all a brief nod as well before turning his attentions back to the Knight-woman, taking her to be the group’s leader – she gave the impression of being the sort.

"Ser, I know not where you and your companions are going nor what you are looking to accomplish, but I wish to take part in it,” Gann said as he looked down at the woman with his generic impassive expression.

---Valen Akritas---

“I would very much wish to get this blood off me,” his sister commented after the Dalish woman and the tall man had vacated their tent. There was not a bath of their own in the tent, as most of the room in the tent was occupied by other things and a bathing tub would have been much too much of a hassle to carry about. The two of them had been going to the local tavern every morning for bathing and getting dressed.

Valen looked over his sister, taking in her bloodied appearance, and then glanced at the elf man. “Yes, the both of you do.” Blood magic was…messy at times.

He watched as she went to grab a new set of robes for herself, and then also grabbed some spare clothing and armor of his own so that the elf could dress himself. Valen frowned at that, but decided not to argue against it.

---

Valen led them to the tavern, having left Blodwyn’s drake to nap at the entrance of the tent. When they got to the tavern, he pushed the doors open wide.


“Maid!” Valen hollered over the din of the other patrons as he stalked into the tavern, followed closely by his sister and her servant. “Prepare a hot bath! My sister wishes to wash the blood off her body!” There, that out to get the maid moving.

Valen’s eyes swept over the crowd and some of the tavern’s patrons began to gingerly shuffle away from them. He was very well aware of the rumors which encircled him and his sister – rumors about slavery and blood magic. Well, the rumors were true.

Valen’s gaze landed on the figure of Severia, standing and speaking with what seemed to be a group who followed her. Valen felt his eyebrows raise themselves up on his forehead. Were all of those people supposed to be coming along to the ball alongside her? He had just thought that it would only be a few – just Severia, that tall knife-eared bastard, the Templar, and the mutt.

---Blodwyn Akritas---

Blodwyn had a wet towel in her hand with which she was trying to wipe her own blood off the blade of her dagger, not quite paying attention to anyone around her. She felt safe when in the presence of her brother, knowing that most people would think twice if they wished to do anything harmful. Plus, now Ceallach was about as well, and so she was quite happy to have there be two men who would be looking out for her general safety.

She tucked the dagger back into her belt and proceeded to wipe her blood away from her hand, which was all healed up but nonetheless crusted over in dark red. It wiped away from her skin, leading smudges, and soon the air around her smelled more of iron than it had a few moments before.

Blodwyn looked up from her task, surveying the tavern about her, and was pleased to see that many of the patrons were slinking away. She smiled at a man that passed her by – a wicked quirk of the lips that made him scurry along all the quicker.

She knew what she must look like: her hand and forearm encrusted in blood, the front of her robes stained crimson. She was not wearing her red robes that day, but a set that was a pale shade of cream, so the fact that she had just bled from her hand and all over herself was very notable. And, not to mention, Ceallach was streaked in her blood as well – it showed as streaks on his clothing, as if he had been restrained by strands of it (which, in fact, he had).


Blodwyn caught sight of Ser Sev and Ryuu, and the large group which surrounded them. Her expression reverted to genuine politeness and she inclined her head in respectful recognition at the two of them. The elven man had mentioned himself to be nobility from Antiva, and though Blodwyn had never had much of a care for elves, she was not beneath simple courtesies between nobles.

Dareth had blinked at the horse’s voiced fury of the halla being present. The stag is the exact opposite of the steed, docile, blinking patiently with questing eyes towards Zephora. He does not flinch nor make further noise but becomes stone as he rests on the ground. Still his presence pleases Blysse whom is only further encouraged to continue with this task. She held the carrot loosely, body swaying and swirling as needed for only a couple of times before the horse caught on to her little game swiftly, unceremoniously leaving the game. At first the elf’s shoulders tense back. Had she offended the horse too much? The woman’s laugh makes her glance over with bent ears.

The gesture is a clear one and Blysse smiles, nodding. Oh! Could that…be his name? By the foreign woman‘s tone it certainly seemed to be such. ”Dubhradh. Dub-hradh…” she mulls slowly in her mouth before facing the horse. It is never wise, at least by personal experience, to chance upon an animal from the posterior view. With a wide gait to make her movements easily detected she stands across from the horse’s shoulder. ”Dubhradh…abelas.” Blysse apologizes and breaks off a portion of the crisp carrot, cracking its orange skin to have the aroma permeate the immediate area. Further to coax the stallion to have his earned treat as nasty as he had been behaving it is simply in the nature of the breed. She cannot make the stallion come to her, it’d be considered rude since she had just given him grief with that sneaky game.

Blysse takes a few steps forth now to hold out her arm. The tiny sausage of carrot rolls along her palm and extended fingers as she makes the offering still. ”Enasal falon." her whimsical language tickles the leaves of the woods, caressing the dancing spears of grass all tufted together. It sounded so very meek in comparison to Zephora’s thick language. Still it is something she hopes can tip some tranquility into the roused horse. He is by far more intelligent than the average mount and this makes Blysse wonder if he is some unfound subspecies dealing only with the stranger’s tribe as opposed to being known to all of humanity.

The pale halla exhales passively through his nostrils at the scene, stretching his neck briefly at the snapped carrot. It smells so very tantalizing. He had been brought up on the food within the wilds, not given simple grains such as his penned brethren whom pull aravels. Wild halla are more prone to battle and so help elves in the same conquests usually. Dareth is in his prime with slender legs and limber muscle but is not bereft of scars. His flanks and shoulders have some shadows here or there to indicate past run ins although now they only increase with Blysse. The great stag though is curious of the woman with the thick tongue. He pushes off from the ground and shakes his ruff, glancing towards her with placid curiosity. These impressive deer are prone to being shy but with the promise of food and the Dalish nearby, Dareth is better soothed. He takes slow steps towards her but stops at a respectful distance. Antlers gleaming like teeth in the murky sunlight he paws the ground inquisitively with a sharp hoof. Certainly if his own rider would rather give a treat to that haughty horse then the stranger in turn would have something for the mooching halla.

Antius’ comment only made Severia clench her jaw. ”I had a privileged upbringing but I was not that sheltered. I am not blind to the truths of any level of slavery nor the corrupt ways of common man’s carnal instinct. I will not permit him to do anything unsavory. Even without proper sword or shield I can be deadly.” and still her cheeks burn. Although Ryuu’s two cents didn’t help much either and she wound up palming her forehead. Such talk of things concerning anything beyond innocence easily bring the lady knight down. It’s just so improper and excessive to have to bring anything up at all. Even the idea of holding hands is far too intimate for Severia to wrap her head around. Before she could let her mind try to fathom and grasp whether or not Valen would dare; the lady knight blinks at the Crow-talk. Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa…slit throats? Assassination? She lifts her head in time to catch Asmara’s nearly exasperated face. ”I…am not saying that. My only concern is to get a bit close and try to learn any further moves from the Teryn. He has us at great disadvantage, we should gain a foothold.” Severia could not imagine planning an assassination attempt. Wouldn’t that just be outright murder, to want someone else dead?

A hushed din erupts over the tavern as a very, very tall man lumbers towards their table. Severia recognizes him as the blur she saw out by the twins’ tent when she went to drag Valen off. His offer is an astonishing one but Severia does note he rightfully called her ‘ser’. Well a few points right there but…she cannot simply allow a stranger in their midst. Tiaryn was fine, Ryuu suggested her but this man is wholly unknown. ”…a thoughtless gesture, you could suffer greatly were you to join something you are in the dark about. And I do not know that we could trust you.” it’s true though, isn’t it? There could be weasels out there looking for the Grey Wardens and this man could be one of them. All she can do for now is test him. ”We have a short matter of business coming soon. If you are to get a nibble of what we are doing, feast with us at the ball as a guest.” the metaphorical invitation will have to do as a boisterous voice breaches her hearing. ”Oh Maker…”

Severia looks to the champion, blood mage and the reluctant slave coming into the tavern. Oh Valen do kindly shut the hell up. Her jaw remains clenched, toes gripping the inside of her boots. Tension is a common sign of stress in anyone and for the lady knight it is becoming chronic after Ostagar. ”They are our resources and the ones whom will hopefully get us into the ball. Play nice.” she dryly murmurs to the others. The very presence of the twin has cleared out more than half of the tavern’s patrons. Many have mixed feelings and perplexed views on Valen and Blodwyn. Still she manages a smile and offers the entered trio a polite wave. Go away Valen. You don’t belong here. Just turn, walk out that door, snort some gold…

~~~

Cash never thought he’d ever be happy to see Ryuu. When the Dalish Crow came and informed him of the group he throated a brief hum of surprise, brows lifted. ”Oh? Ma serannas.” without giving Lisa a second look nor proper farewell he quickly slides off of the stool to join the others. What’ve they been talking about and more importantly where is his damned sister? The bard blinks at a shem with purple misted hair before choosing a seat next to Ryuu for the sake of having a tall, foreboding Dalish near him to ward away any further unwanted interaction. He chooses to entirely ignore the man in gaudy armor whom just stormed inside. ”Meathead.” he hisses under his breath, busying himself with his unruly, long bangs.

Antius blinked at the unusually tall man's offer of assistance. Did people actually join heroes at a tavern? It always struck him as a storybook cliche, but in all his trips outside the tower, he was mostly visiting libraries, the Wonders of Thedas, or more often than not, ruins of some ancient civilization, and once in a Chasind tribe. He had a rough understanding of their language thanks to that. The point was, he wasn't used to "normal" civilization quite yet.

His gaze softened as Asmara commented about the merits of assassinating Loghain. Poor girl... She seemed in many ways innocent. He supposed apostates were even more ignorant of the darkness of the world than he was if they managed to avoid society for so long. Would assassinating Loghain help, anyway? He wasn't sure. He went over what he knew about him and his eyes widened.

"Wait, the Queen is Loghain's daughter. Wouldn't she want revenge if he died?" he whispered lowly, careful to keep his voice out of earshot of the newest man to offer to join them. His gaze hardened as Ser Sev said clearly what happened to female slaves. He glanced at Asmara again before replying, "I wasn't trying to protect your innocent, Ser. Nevertheless, slavery sits ill with me."

That was his opinion. After this, he'd say no more, though he'd have to have a little talk with this Valen. Coincidentally, he heard a pompous voice rudely demanding a bath drawn for his sister. He looked up and his eyes widened at the sight of the woman's arm and wrist along with her staff. He recognized those wounds. Three short years ago, he saw his best friend cut his hand in the same place. He gripped his staff and turned to Severia in answer to her words.

"Apostates are one thing. I do not mind Apostates at all. They're not doing anything wrong. But a blood mage?! They cannot be trusted. Trust me, I know from personal experience! Please do not tell me that woman is a blood mage!" he whispered anxiously. He couldn't believe their leader's recklessness. He knew they were desperate for allies, but a Tevinter blood mage was too much.

Jasper had arrived in enough time to see the party of two humans and an elf enter the tavern, followed in rather short order by another pair, this one a man surprisingly taller than he and a woman with white hair. Something told him he'd be seeing more of the lot of them if he stuck around much longer. It seemed that every slightly-abnormal individual within miles was attracted to the cause like flies to honey. He might not be so useful after all, some to think of it.

Either way, that was not a discussion he had any wish to be a part of presently; it was not as though he had any particular opinion about what the Wardens chose to do. If something eventually came up, he would voice his concern then, but until such time as this happened, he was under no illusions that his two coppers was worth any more than that.

Rather than bother crowding in to listen to what was sure to amount to a good deal of arguing, then, he simply dropped the reins to his mare and wandered the general area for a while. Now that he had nothing specifically to be doing, he took his time walking about, collecting the stories and scuttlebutt from refugees and town residents alike. He was rather fond of such conversation; playing the ignorant traveler was ever the best way to get a feel for how things really were. Too often in court he had heard nobles toss around phrases like "the people" and "the will of the common man" without really having any sense of what such a thing would mean. He had resolved long ago not to be one of those nobles.

Perhaps it was a moot point. He doubted his title would be his for much longer, anyway. Eventually his parents would see sense and stop trying to get him to return to the keep like a good hawk to her jesses. Such gentle prisons, both of those things, but he had always been of the mind that birds should fly as they liked. And he? Well, much as some days might bring him to the contrary desire, he was no bird, but that made his desire to decide things for himself no less potent. Was that childish of him, to shirk the responsibility that the very fact of his birth had laid at his feet? Perhaps, if it was looked at from this angle alone, as people were more often than not wont to do.

On his way out of the refugee camp (a few silvers lighter, courtesy of the pickpocket child he'd not had the heart to stop), he spotted a group of dirty-faced children playing some kind of game in the dust which had accumulated on the side of the road. Drawing closer, he observed that they had in fact sketched themselves a story. "Well hullo there lads and lass. Mind tellin' me what ya've got there?" he asked quietly, roughening his speech a little. Perhaps ironically, he had learned from experience that it was less intimidating than the speech of someone overly educated. Well, maybe it wasn't that ironic at all.

The girl, small and with twin braids down her back, was the first to speak. "It's a story," she explained somewhat sullenly, "See? That's a Darkspawn, and those are the Grey Wardens. But my brother says I can't be a Grey Warden because I'm a girl." Jasper angled his head to get a look at the picture. Most of the figures looked the same to him, but then that one on the left was a little bigger and also a trifle uglier, so he figured that had to be the Darkspawn. At the comment about a girl being a Grey Warden, though, he resisted the urge to chuckle and instead fixed the boys with his best mock-stern look (or at least the best one he could use without scaring them too badly).

"Well that's awfully silly of them. I happen to know that girls make the very best Grey Wardens. That's why there aren't a lot of them, see? Because if there were, all us boys would be jealous." This of course brought a huge grin to the girl's face, and she charged at her friends, shouting something about being the best Grey Warden of them all. Jasper rolled his eyes and shook his head, ambling onwards to see what he could see. Eventually, he'd circle back to the tavern, and hopefully the meeting would be over by then and he'd find someone to catch him up on what he missed.

As the elven maiden adjusted to the thick throatiness of Zephora's language, Zephora busies herself with another over-head stretch. Her muscles are sore and protest the movement, but the Chasind Mage ignores it. If this new acquaintance was without a destination and without a home, as Zephora was, perhaps the two may travel together, at least for the time being. Communication may be a problem, but they seemed to be working through it fine now. The taller woman shook the thoughts away, weren't elves known to travel in their own tribe or clan, much like the Chasind? It would be doubtful that the archer did not have companions she was already traveling with. She turns her focus back to the scene at hand and watches with a pleased curiosity as the elven woman approaches her ornery steed once more.

He did not often have the chance to meet others who seemed as comfortable around creatures as Blysse was. Nor did he often have the chance to meet someone who spoke such a strange language. It was quiet and calm, bringing with the sound and aura of calm. Dubhradh was intrigued by the sounds, his ears swiveling atop his had as he looks over the woman, addressing her with a soft exhale and warm eyes. As the carrot snaps and the smell intensifies, Dubhradh paws at the ground, stamping a hoof as he shakes his head. The smell of the carrot baits him, but his pride roots him to the ground. As Blysse nears him and stretches out her hand to him, Dubhradh lowers his head from its raised position. The maiden's voice and language coax him into a serene warmth.

He takes a step in the elf's direction, turning himself to face her as she approaches. As she nears, his head lowers further still as he extends towards the Dalish treat that the archer holds. He is taking in the smell fully, deep inhales and exhales can be heard as it nears him. It is now that Zephora has her attention pulled away by the sound of the rising halla that had made its resting place near her a little while earlier. She turns her body to address him, arms falling to her side from where they had been crossed against her chest. The stag appeared strong and well accustomed to handle quite well on his own. As he begins his approach to the Chasind, she addresses him in a hushed tone, bowing slightly at the waist. "Tha mi toilichte ur choinneachadh, caraid." He responds with pawing at the ground and Zephora chuckles. 'I suppose I would be jealous as well.' the Battlemage acknowledges the approaching halla, pulling her pack from the ground in front of her. Her hand returns grasping a red colored fruit; an apple, picked recently on Zephora's travels. "An gabh thu ubhal?"

Lisa Smith

A heavy sighed could be heard from Lisa as Cash left. Once again, the Ferelden culture was preventing any form of communication between her and the locals here. How was she to know that there was discrimination in Ferelden? She was from the Free Marches, and the only thing that she was aware of about the situation in Ferelden was that the Blight was coming, the king was dead and the wardens had been blamed for the death of the king.

Well, while she wasn’t able to get a direct answer concerning the situation, she was receiving some interesting ideas of who was working with who. The two mages and the Templar was present, along with the warrior woman, whom Lisa had failed to spy on, and the company of associates seemed to just increase with every moment. Meatheads who simply barged in disrupting their discussion.
Facinating. Mages, rouges and even warriors are now binding together. If the tales of the Grey Wardens weren’t too far off, then it would be more than possible that these Grey Wardens possess a certain charisma for entrancing people into joining their causes, Lisa thought and then stood up, she moved towards the group, looking from table to table to look less suspicious as she approached the group.

“If it is not a job for the Wardens, then perhaps it is a job for me,”[/i] Lisa heard. She had an internal battle with herself at that moment, as she didn’t want to look up and start scanning the people for whom it could be. It could be any of the people, Lisa told herself to ensure that she wouldn’t make any obvious moves of her curiosity…Other than having purposefully followed Cash to the group.

---

Bruce had to admit that Ser Severia was either resourceful or knew quite a few people that would accompany her, and her Wardens, in her mission against Teyrn Loghain. Bruce did, throughout the majority of the conversations, remain silent as he didn’t have much of an opinion concerning how they were going to get to Loghain.

As the topic of assassination came up, Bruce shook his head and agreed with Antius, “Antius has a point here. Just by making one man disappear we can risk sparking something even greater. Politics is a chemistry that is far from as simple as it may sound. I may not be involved with politics, however as Antius said, some of these politicians are tied to each other through emotions, while other sees a profit through certain, unpopular leaders.
If we are to be responsible for the sudden disappearance of the King…I would recommend that we find a solid rock to hide beneath.”

Bruce had to be honest. He discouraged assassination, but he couldn’t go so far and just openly challenge it, demand with his loud and authentic voice that they find an alternative. Bruce had, in all essence, done some of these assassination for the Chantry…Technically, when he had personally killed and executed apostates and heretics, he had taken the life of these people into his own hand and decided their fate. Though they hadn’t been for political, or financial, gain; it had always been religion and personal hatred.

Bruce, again, nodded with Antius, concerning slavery, “A slaver…So it is true what they say about the Grey Wardens then,” Bruce said, shooting the Wardens a disapproving look, “There is no man, or woman, too high or too low for you. Ser Sev, I trust you know what you are doing.”
Bruce disliked the idea of having a slave owner with them, however he wasn’t in command, thus he was simply sharing his thoughts without any expectations that they would be even considered by the Wardens.

Antius’ last statement woke Bruce’s Templar instincts. His eyes widen and his head turned and began to scan the accused, “Apostate…Blood Mage?” the sentence was both a question and an accusation. The sound of Bruce’s sword being drawn was like a snake hissing at an enemy or prey while his eyes were locked on Blowyn.

For those who were watching, it was undeniably obvious that Bruce was getting ready to start a fight with the mage. His lips was moving in a preparation to counter her magic, his sword was being drawn and blue flames could be seen licking the blade as his sword was prepared with Righteous Strike.



“Hey there, toughie, no need to start some brawl is there?” Lisa quickly said, jumping in and getting as close as she could to the angry Templar, and between him and the accused Blood Mage.
Lisa wasn’t there to save the Blood Mage, she was there to prevent the Templar from destroying a potential meat shield and key for a greater plan that Lisa had managed to formulate while she had been listening to the conversation of the group.

“I couldn’t help hear your small plans, and I must admit that they sound very potential, and I think I might be able to lend an additional hand to your plans,” Lisa said. “Lisa Smith, of the Free Marches, at your service.”
“Stand aside,” Bruce hissed and took the first step towards Blodwyn.
“Sure, but I’ll be glad not to be in your shoes when you stand before the Divine and explain that you were responsible for the failure of a high priority Chantry mission.”

Bruce looked at Lisa with suspicion, “Explain,” he demanded.
“Oh it’s simple, the Chantry wants to see action taken against the Blight and thus they send me to see how the current state of Ferelden is, as well as the political stability…Well, you seem to be motivated to bring a balance between the two, thus I would be more than glad to provide you with my services. Oh, and before you ask, yes, I am an agent of the Chantry.”
Bruce turned and looked at Severia, “Ser Sev…Your orders?” Bruce asked, though he had to force the question out of himself as he dearly wanted to simply stab the damn apostate/blood mage own at the spot.

---Gann Mulsantir---

“The chance is appreciated, Ser,” he told the woman Knight and gave her a curt nod of the head. He was sure that he would prove himself one way or the other and travelling for some time with company would not be too bad. Gann had found himself a bit curious as to how it would be to be surrounded by others. Plus, if ever it struck him, he could always leave.

He was not surprised, rather approving, to hear Merle step up to the decision as well. She did not ask the woman Knight to join, but almost demanded it, her tone of voice stubborn and steadfast. Gann felt the shadow of a smile run across his lips at that. He had always had respect for those who could stand up for their ideals and for their own intentions (as long as those intentions were just and of merit).

And then, after the Tevinter siblings had burst into the tavern and after the bald Templar had caught wind of the woman being a blood mage, a scene erupted in the tavern.

The Templar made a move towards the woman, ready to strike her down, but the man who was with her moved in front, his own blade and shield held at the ready. “They are much the same, those two,” Gann commented to Merle, but loud enough for others to hear, “they each itch for a fight, and that is plain to see.” He shook his head, clearly not impressed.

“I have met many people of the sort,” he said, lowering his voice to speak only to Merle, “and they have always been humans. That is one of the many reasons I find the Dalish to be much more agreeable.” He shook his head again, making a ‘tch’ sound.

---Valen Akritas---

“One more step towards my sister, you insolent cur, and you and your precious Chantry would be in shit so deep that you will find yourself drowning in excrement.” Valen had his sword drawn and pointed and his shield (which he took with himself everywhere) at the ready the minute the Templar had dared to take so much as a step in his sister’s direction.

He took a step to the side, blocking his sister’s body with his own. He had the advantage of height over this man, and he would use anything else at his disposal to keep his sister safe.

“Do it, dog. Strike her. Strike her and continue to spit your hypocrisies to the world, you who know nothing yet dare to condemn my sister.” He felt the anger roiling inside of him. “Your actions are an offense to my family, and that will not go unpunished. You will make your apologies to the Lady Blodwyn, or there will be no deals of any sort.” He would have continued to rave, but felt his sister’s hand on his shoulder, restraining him.

“The Maker will judge this man, not you, brother,” Blodwyn told him, patting his shoulder, through his armor, in a reassuring manner.

---Blodwyn Akritas---

Blodwyn stepped away from Valen and moved over to stand by Ceallach, taking him by the arm and shifting him a few inches in front of herself, just in case. She angled her body behind him, feeling wary, but then addressed Ser Sev.

“If you wish our aid to get into the ball, Ser Sev, the Templar must be kept under control lest he decides to lash out against every high standing blood mage Tevinter has birthed.” Blodwyn’s tone of voice was unyielding in its coldness. She had no ill will towards the Lady Knight, but any shreds of respect Blodwyn could have mustered for the Templar in question had withered away. The majority of Tevinter nobles were mages, and the majority of those mages were blood mages. If that Templar was to come along, he would have to be kept under constant check.

“My family and I are here under diplomatic immunity. As I have heard, Ferelden is under great strain, and poor relations with Tevinter would not do your country, nor ours, any good," she added. Tevinter took their nobility very seriously indeed, especially their mages. A slight such as the murder of a Tevinter mage under diplomatic immunity was sure to destroy any good relations between the two countries. At worst, it could start a political war.

She turned to look at the Templar, her attentions only for him. “My brother and I have no qualms with allowing a group as large as this come along as our guests. Ser Sev asked and we complied, but that does not mean that deals cannot be broken.” She drew her hands apart, as if to say ‘we can go without your lot or with it’. “Listen to my brother’s words; make your apology, and I will forget this slight. If not, then sadly there shall be no ball to speak of.”

Asmara Surana

"Ser Le-Guy," Asmara started, reaching out with a hand to stop his sword instinctively before realizing how very foolish this would be indeed and sharply withdrawing it. She worried her lower lip between her teeth as the tension in the situation only grew when the large man with the woman confronted her Templar friend. It was not long before another woman, the one who had been speaking to Cash earlier, and also the second man's sister, the blood mage (whatever that was), intervened.

Asmara had heard the term blood mage bandied about before, and knew enough to know that it was not good to appear to be one in front of anyone from the Chantry, or if Antius's reaction was anything to go by, from the Circle, but other than that she knew only that the school involved quite literally manipulating one's own blood and sometimes that of others. It sounded awfully painful, but she did not understand why it made people so afraid; more so than any other kind of magic. Her teachers told her only that it had a long history of misuse and poor teaching, but honestly that seemed poor reason to hate it so much.

More importantly even than that, though, she was concerned for what this obvious conflict would do for the people involved. She couldn't see this sort of thing helping anyone get along, and she had seen enough of battle now to know that one day, the life of that blood mage may depend on the actions of Ser Le-Guy, or vice versa. This was most certainly not the best way to ensure their survival, and Asmara was more principally concerned with this than just about anything else.

Still, she knew she had no authority in this area, and she sent a pleading glance in Ser Sev's direction, hoping for some kind of resolution to this. the lady and her companion were now demanding an apology or something, and she thought maybe that would be a good place to start, but something was telling her it would not be the most readily-given of things. The small mage retook her seat with a nearly-inaudible sigh. "Please, everyone... surely, stopping the Blight is more important than this..." She didn't know much of politics, and so any talk of diplomatic immunity or nobility was mostly lost on the young woman, but she understood mistrust when she saw it, and she fervently hoped it was not hate in disguise.

Tiaryn Ormet

That woman is listening to us, Tiaryn thought, glancing surreptitiously at the female who had been in discussion with the young elf but a few moments ago. When the loud one and his followers came in, she raised an eyebrow at the needless ostentation, but she did not bother to comment. Such foolish arrogance rather spoke for itself.

The next two, she was not quite so disposed against, since their entrance was much more sedate and rather bloodless, all things concerned. Neither of them seemed the type for such nonsense, though she rather thought they were an odd pair. She was under the impression that elves held no status but the lower ones here in Ferelden unless they happen to be Dalish, and though the white-haired woman might in fact be such a one, that theory had problems all its own. It seemed there was much about this country that she did not know; she would perhaps have to ask Ryuu for a basic rundown of the important things at a later date.

She watched the conflict spawn with disinterest, though it did make her wonder just what she'd gotten herself into when she'd volunteered for this. It seemed that within the space of a few moments, a slightly too-large group had become a full-fledged crowd, and Tiaryn was immediately made further uncomfortable, though she would not show it.

But really, was all this posturing truly necessary? So the woman was a blood mage, so what? Her tone clearly placed her as Tevinter, and there was nothing terribly unusual about that, really. It seemed that the Chantry enjoyed rather more control here than it did in Antiva. Then again, that was hardly a surprise; it was not every church that could successfully integrate into a society where murder was the most expensive service on the market, and also one of the most popular.

That was it. Quite literally, it just clicked in Bruce’s mind and everything he saw and thought became blinded by hatred. The hell with what Severia wants…I am not going to sit by, as if I am still a boy, and take this kind of insult towards my religion while I allow that whore to grin at me, was the thoughts of Bruce that were racing through his head as blood pumped into his head, making his skin boiling red and his eyes shooting lightening out of them.

“You imbeciles. No, really, who between the Divine Deavens and the lowest pits of the dwarven realm do you think you are? I see two, moronic, and complete idiotic humans who has stripped themselves from their precious soul, through by being a bloody witch and her unbelievably stupid henchman.

I am, on the other hand, overjoyed that I am offending your family, for the shame that you two are bringing on it is just sickening. You have no sense of manners to the Warriors of the Chant and the Enforcers of the Maker’s Will. You dolt!

You, Mr. Troll…You think your size intimidates me? You think that because you have the size of a damn ogre and the brain of a worm you will make me fall to my knees and plea for forgiveness. And from two heretics…Either you two are completely insane, or you are so incredibly stupid, that you actually believe that your so-called, accusations will do you any good.

Oh and while we are at the topic of your incredible, if not increasing, stupidity, I’d like to add, ‘I’d rather have my internal organs ripped out of myself and watch as the living dead feast on them, BEFORE I take back anything that I said to you, your soulless sister and your family,’ Which neither of you seem to hold of high respect!

I can condemn your sister all I want, because she has condemned herself with that foul magic…Mages!”[/b] Bruce commented and then spat down at the floor, in front of Blodwyn, “I’d expect you to be intelligent, but no…You are all equally moronic and selfish. These powers aren’t a blessing at all. It’s a curse, why didn’t you just go and join the damn darkspawns while you were at it? Eh? Isn’t it enough that you possess ungodly powers, but then you also have to start thinking you are higher than anyone else, you little twat?”

Bruce then looked at Blodwyn, “The Maker will judge me, alright, but you…There won’t be spared even a glimpse before you will be cast away, like every. Other. Heretic.
Your diplomatic immunity won’t save you from the true judgment of the Maker, and neither will it save from me pushing my sword through your demonic heart!”

Raelnor stepped over to Bruce and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head, “Don’t” he said plainly.
“Whose side are you on? How many here are under that whore’s influence? Why the hell would we need her? So she has a way into a ball, has anyone here ever even thought about the strings that the Chantry can pull, have you?” Bruce turned and gave a look of accusation at Severia.

Lisa couldn’t help but to smile at Templar Bruce’s hysterical come back against Valen and Blodwyn. “Well, while we’re at it, does anyone feel like sharing their feelings?” Lisa couldn’t help but to be sarcastic in such a moment, quite honestly, the Templar may just have offended every mage present in the group, not to mention that Bruce still stood with a ready-to-strike weapon drawn.

“I suppose not, but Miss, I do have a question,” Lisa said, directed at Blodwyn, “Do you honestly think that a Templar will apologize? After all, we have the intellectuals-” she motioned towards Antius (the mage)-“And the religiously fanatics to balance this world, and while we’re at it,” Lisa quickly coughed, “I ought to point out that blood magic here isn’t something which is openly welcomed, just so you know.”

“Excuse me,” Bruce said and tapped Lisa’s shoulder, making her turn, “Pardon my language but, sod off woman, this is between me and those heretical lunatics!” Bruce said as he was placing his shield on his free hand, obviously getting ready for a fight with Valen.
“Don’t mind me then, I’ll just stand right here and watch you two bash each other to death over something as small as a simple, ‘sorry’, just in case neither of you have seen the silliness here,” Lisa said, taking the rising conflict rather calmly.

Bruce wasn’t taking his eyes off Valen or Blodwyn, he wanted to kill them both right there and do, what he believed, the right thing and make himself the judge of their fates.

Ryuu had reminded calm for the duration of Bruce's settle fall from sanity. Though the comment about wardens caused him to frown alittle. Then as he started belting his mouth off. Ryuu couldn't stand for that standing quickly his chair flying from behind him and sword and dagger in hand. "I care little for how you treat The two Tevinter twins but you will treat Severia with respect and watch your place, I could have ended you easily during the battle between the darkspawn and your templar training won't save you from me now either.." He let out in a growl, This man had over stepped himself, he was in no position to be screaming his head off like a child and Ryuu would not stand for it. "Kill them, but you better be watching your back; cause I'm going to be there carving out your spine you dirty Shem" His tongue was barbed, though he didn't curse as freely as Bruce seem too, and rightly so; He was about ready to jump forward, a shield and sword were no good in the hands of a blinded by rage templar, he might as well been swinging stick around.

Ryuu could feel the blood being pumped full of adrenaline in his body causing his heart to beat faster. The templar had stepped far out of line. This was to much for Ryuu to put up with; he had remind quiet for most of it but he pushed it way to far. "You will sit down Templar, and remind quiet for the rest of this discussion or your maker help me, you'll find out what your organs look like while your still breathing" He warned; he knew he wasn't that intimating, but he had the skill and years of experience to back it up. The girl who had been talking to cash had stepped in earlier, he didn't really notice due to his growing anger at the templar. Though he did hear her words; though they didn't resonate till now. He would not back down his claim though, if the templar pressed himself he'd have the crow to deal with, and if the templar knew what he was getting into he would back down, because from personal experience he had an old ally from the crows here, and he doubted she would stay out of it if he was in danger. His grip tightening on the blades in his hands, he was just waiting for Bruce to do something hostile. He wondered if Severia would have something to say, he figured that she'd try to calm the situation, oh but he bet Bruce wouldn't listen, oh he felt he wouldn't, he hoped he wouldn't. After how he saw the in slaved elf was treated and how disrespectful the brother of the blood mage was, he was ready to draw blood; and Bruce would do just fine to wet his blood lust; then if Valen wanted to keep running his mouth he'd end him too.

If she were a child she would reach out to stroke his cheek. Blysse knows better, especially when faced with this type of personality in an animal. As such she takes this blessing now and continues to venture forth to give the offering to Dubhradh. When she feels warm breath tickling her hand she knows the horse has accepted the split treat. The Dalish coos softly, happy to have the chance with the great horse eating from her hand. He's such a handsome horse and she's certain he acts as he does because of brain not brawn. Blysse glances over towards Zephora and where Dareth has now begun to approach the inked woman. "Dareth." she nods her head towards the colossal halla.

Hearing his spoken name the lord of the forest turns his head to perk his ears at Blysse for a moment. "Dareth." she states again before patting her own chest lightly with her free hand, "Blysse." with a smile the flaxen haired elf focuses on feeding Dubhradh the carrot slowly. Dareth had exhaled gently as he turned his antleres to face the dark haired woman once more. Walking closer at the sight of the shiny apple he gently noses it, feathering his whiskers against it, before rapidly nibbling on it with accelerated mastication. Some chunks drop down from his sloppy and eager method but it had been too long since he's enjoyed an apple.

After both beasts were sated Blysse would go again to hug Zephora and offer her with an arm gesture to follow her into Lothering.

~~~

Severia sighs gently at Antius' panicked strife and scorn. "No Antius. She is not a blood mage. That red substance on her robes? It is strawberry syrup." her patience is running thin and it sharpens her tongue. A white haired Dalish suddenly informs Severia that she also will be attending the ball with them in order to be with the group. She sums up the set looking woman but only nods. This is...overwhelming. How can she keep a group of over ten people organized? At least she can enlist the favor and help of her few fellow Grey Wardens. They are the only ones she can trust now besides Kujo.

Bruce's outburst makes the lady knight stand up from her seat. When he requests her orders she's more than certain he is just mocking her. It would not be surprising but still she says nothing. "I hold no power over you, Ser Templar." she darkly informs him as she watches the scene with surmounting peasure, further soured that now some random woman claiming to be a Chantry agent joins in and invites herself along. "We will see how you fair at the ball, Lisa Smith." and now Ryuu speaks. She reaches out to gently touch his elbow, body slowly losing tension as she again illicit her diplomatic voice to reason.

"I agree with Asmara and Lisa. This is petty. Save it for after the Blight. I will ask no one to apologize because as adults, I'm certain you will do so on your own damn time. As for all of you so opposed to blood magic, I would trust Blodwyn with my life. I've known her since childhood. We are not best friends but we know much of each other. You'd all do kindly to give her a chance. These two are our gracious hosts after all and it is poor of us to react with hostility. Now we must prepare to go and meet the revered Teryn Loghain." she moves up to carefully touch Blodwyn's shoulder, glancing at the enslaved elf and Valen before giving Blodwyn a faint smile. "Maker willing, you do need some fresh linens, mi'lady." it was the closest Severia had come to being visibly angered in front of the group.

Antius frowned a bit as Bruce rose to challenge Blodwyn and Valen, not that he could blame him. Years of training and conditioning were what were guiding Bruce now. Templars were almost like machines in that aspect. They were trained to hunt Apostates and Maleficarum and a Blood Mage brazenly claiming diplomatic immunity was simply too much for Ser Bruce. Nevertheless, he caught Blysse's words and he nodded slowly, frowning a bit. Was he becoming a zealot from his one encounter with Blood Magi, via Jowan? He wasn't sure. He had come to detest blood magic ever since that incident, but if this blood mage could help them...

"Right. Strawberry syrup. Got it," Antius noted before turning to Ser Bruce and grimacing at his rant. He could understand the man's anger and reactions, nonetheless, his words about mages stung. Magic was a gift and not a curse as so many Templars believed. He scowled at him. Nevertheless, he'd keep himself from losing his temper at the man as well and would try to calm him down. He had learned more than magic from First Enchanter Irving, after all.

"We do not have definitive proof that she's a Blood Mage and, if anyone deserves Blood Magic used on them, it's Darkspawn. Let us just get this ball over with and, after the Blight, you can go ahead and hunt her or bring her before the Chantry or whatever it is that you're required to do. Our quest is too important; forbidden magics recklessly used can bring great destruction, but we know that the Darkspawn will destroy the entire world if they are left unchecked. Just be vigilant for now... If Ser Sev trusts them, then I do, at least a little."

Dubhradh noses Blysse's hand for the carrot, but ceases as she speak again. The sound of the two names echoes in his mind for a short time before he paws the ground and returns to the carrot. He accepts it gratefully, nudging the elf maiden's hand if he ever deemed the slow feeding too slow and making soft sounds of appreciation whenever a new piece is delivered to him. This treat was unlike any other he had experienced, though the Chasind were farmers, they could be crude; the vegetables they grew not experiencing the same tenderness that the elves provided to their own. Enraptured in his own bliss, the normally territorial stallion fails to notice Dareth as the halla enjoys an apple from Dubhradh's lady.

As Blysse speaks, Zephora listens, though her hand remains outstretched to the curious halla. When the stag responds to the calling of 'Dareth', Zephora makes a mental note of it. She stumbles over the sounds before she fits the whimsical language into her native tongue; the 'r' is heavily rolled and the 'eth' is strong and final. She speaks the stags name fondly as he began to approach her once more, recovering his attention from Blysse. Zephora's attention is then returned to Blysse as she indicates herself and gives Zephora her name. Zephora mulls the sounds over in her head, the sound emerging from her lips again a thick distortion of the whimsical tone of the elf. "Blys...Blysse. Blysse." She nods to the woman before putting her own hand to leather clad chest. "Zephora."

After the apple has been sufficiently devoured or spilled to the ground, Zephora runs her hand over her thigh to remove the remaining juices of the fruit. She addresses Dareth with a smile and a nod before turning to her own steed. Blysse had been upon her, however, and Zephora chuckles, a broad smile on her features as the elf hugs her. Thoroughly prepared, Zephora returns the hug. When Blysse indicates the town of Lothering, Zephora tilts her head to the side in thought. Only having lived in the Wilds, the idea of a town makes her nervous, but the idea of traveling with another is appealing. She speaks Dubhradh's name and clicks her tongue, the steed approaches as Zephora extends her hand to Dubhradh's jaw, "An téid sinn a-mach?" A reply is given as Dubhradh paws impatiently at the ground and tosses his mane with a shake of his head. Zephora laughs openly once more, and nods at Blysse, "Tòisichidh sinn."

[Btw, I have nothing against anyone's characters...Merle will be Merle. ._.;;]

DISCLAIMER: Okay, Fam gave me permission to write the post which timeskipped to the ball. We also came up with a list of how to pair people, so here it is. Look it over, as these will be the ‘couples’ (I place Zephora on her own because she just seems more of the single exotic noble-woman type) and then the elves are there as the ‘servant/slaves’ for the ‘couples’.

Sev/Rael with Ryuu
Blod/Bruce with Ceallach
Jas/Tia with Arvin
Gann/Antius with Asmara and Merle
Valen/Lisa with Cash
Zephora with Blysse

If I missed anyone, I am SO SO sorry! D: I blame being scatterbrained on my 7 hours plane ride. >_o

I wrote this monstrous post on a plane, so I am sorry for any typos. <3

---Blodwyn Akritas---

She was not sure if she should be frightened or amused. She was both. At first Blodwyn had clutched harder unto Ceallach’s arm, glad that he had taken a step backwards and gotten closer to her. It felt safer this way, having people in front of her. She may have had her magic to fight with, but she was also just one woman.

But, as the Templar continued to rage, her desire to giggle overwhelmed her. Blodwyn burst out into laughter, unable to prevent herself from reacting in the manner. She clutched at her lower stomach, the muscles of her abdomen spasming with each peal of laughter that escaped her lips. She sucked in a breath, doing her best to bite back laugher. Soon enough, she forced herself to straighten up again and calm herself.

“Ah, forgive me, that was out of line” Blodwyn shook her head as she began to regain her composure. “Maker, I know not what came over me, but that was most amusing.”

She looked at the Templar with pity in her eyes, shaking her head as if he was some silly child who did not understand a thing. She made a clucking noise in the back of her throat and turned to look at Ser Sev, smiling apologetically. “Forgive me for my outburst, Ser Sev, normally I am able to keep my composure, and I thank you for your kind words towards me.” She smiled at the Lady Knight, glad to not have been impaled upon the blade of some insane man.

Blodwyn gave Ceallach’s arm a squeeze as a non-verbal thank you and moved out from around him to go and stand by her brother’s side, “I could lecture for hours upon the topic of how magic is a gift and not a curse, yet I have no intention of doing so at the very moment.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.

“You mentioned a Blight – I take it there are Grey Wardens present – and that you, Ser Sev, are one of them.” Blodwyn lowered her voice as she spoke, making sure that non overheard but the group, in case this was confidential. She looked over at Ser Sev and raised a questioning eyebrow, following that gesture up with a nod of her head. She was quick to make the connections in her mind. That would explain more as to why Ser Sev had wished to get into that ball, and that would explain why her company was so large.

“That changes things,” Blodwyn gave them all a look of appraisal, “but I can now see this is much more important than my brother and I have first thought.”

---Valen Akritas---

His sisters’ hysterical giggling (amused, yet a tinge frightened) had catalyzed a wave of the very same with Valen. He found himself laughing alongside her, spurred on by the way her breath hitched with every ‘ha’. He had always enjoyed the sound of his sister’s laughter. But then she soon forced herself to composure again, and he did as well.

When they heard mention of a Blight, Valen exchanged looks with his sister. She took him by the arm and pulled him to the side. “Let us discuss this briefly, brother.”

“Nemo me impune lacessit,” Valen told her, shooting the Templar a dirty look. He was still not feeling as if he should just back down, even though his sister had relented and been placated by Severia’s words.

“A Blight, Valen,” she said, in Common this time, but continued in Imperial, “dulce periculum! Natura nihil frustra facit!”

It was clear that she wished to help, excited by the prospect – eager to be a part of something so vastly important. She looked up at him, pleading, and he could not help but relax by a fraction.

“Si vales valeo, oderint dum metuant.” she said, looking at him with eyes full of warmth, something which she usually reserved for more private times. He reached out an armored hand and trailed his fingertip down her cheekbone, unable to suppress a smile. He would have leaned in to kiss her, but they were in too public a place.

“I have been swayed by my sister, luck seems to be in your favor today, as normally I would not let such a slight to my family pass by,” Valen said, his tone becoming dry when he addressed the lot of them. “The prospect of a Blight spurs her and she wishes to aid your efforts. Also, the Templar is amusing and she is sure to obtain much pleasure from listening to his tongue flap about.”

“Valen, be polite,” Blodwyn said lightly, patting his arm, “I will be back after changing my robes.”


TIME SKIP STARTS HERE.

---Blodwyn Akritas---

The elves had been told that the only manner in which they would be able to get into the ball was if they played the role of slaves. Of course, not a one of them was thrilled at the prospect, but that was the only manner in which things could have been accomplished. She and her brother had provided suitable clothing for all the humans, so as to have them all look the part of nobility.

Blodwyn stood before the group much like a general before an army, observing the lot of them and piecing things together in her mind. They would not be able to get into the ball as an unruly herd, and so they would each have to be grouped: man to woman for a couple and a slave or two for each pair.

“When you step foot into the ball, all humans will be expected to act as though they were high-standing members of society. That means that all women should be properly addresses as ‘milady’ and all men as ‘milord’.” She frowned at the group and tilted her head to one side, attempting to figure out who would look better with whom.

“Ser Sev with Ser Raelnor,” Blodwyn gestured at the two of them. She had taken it upon herself to learn and know the names of all the company she had travelled with. “Jasper with Tiaryn, Valen with Lisa, Zephora on her own as a single noble-woman, and Gann with Antius.[/b]”

“I object,” the tall man known as Gann intervened, not looking at all pleased by her pairing of him with another man.

“We are out of women, as you may or may not have noticed, and Zephora plays very well the part of an exotic single noble-woman,” she replied, gesturing at the clear lack of human women for either him or Antius.

“And what of you?” He asked, expression unchanging, “I had thought that you were a woman, or is there something different under those robes?”

“Ha, ha,” she said drily, “I will be accompanied by Ser Bruce, as someone must guide him away from lashing out at the present nobility.” Once at the ball, they would be surrounded by noble-born blood mage lords and ladies and none of them would take a slight to their person lightly. Plus, there was a high-ranking member of the Orlesian royalty, cousin to the Empress, who would be present, and an apostate at that…and offending her would not make the Empress look kindly down upon any of them.

“Now, for the assigned servants,” she abstained from using the term ‘slaves’, though that is what all would assume them to be, “Ryuu, with Ser Sev and Ser Raelnor. Asmara and Merle, with Antius and Gann. Ceallach, with me and Ser Bruce. Blysse, with Zephora. Cash, with Valen and Lisa. Arvin, with Jasper and Tiaryn.”

And now they should be ready. Maker help the lot.

---Valen Akritas---

“Names, if you please,” the guards said, one of them holding a list before him.

“I am Lord Valen Akritas, and this lovely woman is my sister, the Lady Blodwyn Akritas,” Valen said curtly as he gestured at his sister, who stood beside the Templar with her hand through his arm. “We are accompanied by miscellaneous Lords and Ladies, among which you may find the Lady Severia Cousland, as well as numerous slaves to tend to our needs as we please.”

“We are honored to have you here, milord,” the guards spoke and opened wide the gates to usher them all inside.

Valen looked over at his sister and she winked at him, looking pleased by his eloquent introduction.

They walked up a long terrace, through a garden which smelled sweetly of flowers, and up the steps of Lord Adea’s summer home. Another set of guards opened wide the doors for them there. Beyond the doors was an entrance hall, and beyond that the ballroom.

All around them were richly dressed nobles and merchants of various high status rankings. Elven slaves walked with delicately balanced platters, knowing full well that the Lord Adea would give them fifty lashes if they dared stumble once or drop something.

A bald man with a slender woman on his arm walked out of the ballroom, his booming voice resonating as he laughed at something the woman said to him. The man’s eyes swept over the newcomers and landed on Valen and Blodwyn. The smile on the man’s face spread and he approached, beaming with happiness.

“My son,” he gathered Valen in his arms in a warm squeeze and then moved on to Blodwyn, “my daughter”, taking her face in his hands and kissing her on both cheeks and then on the forehead.

His father stepped back and it was their mother’s turn to say her helloes. She approached Valen, but he stepped back, giving her only a curt nod, his expression easily betraying his dislike. The woman paled in the cheeks and immediately moved on to Blodwyn, doing her best to stifle whatever pain she may have felt at being publically spurned by her own son.

Valen watched as Blodwyn awkwardly embraced their mother, her movements hesitant and reserved, almost as though she was confused as to what to do. Their mother did not press her company, and stepped back after the meager introductions. She swept a lock of hair behind one badly-scarred ear, and focused her eyes on the rest of the company.

“Everyone, meet the Lord Caladrius Akritas and his wife, the Lady Lavinia Akritas, our father and mother,” Blodwyn made the introductions that time. “Pray, father, is the Lord Adea entertaining the guests within the ballroom?”

Their father nodded, his good humor gone after witnessing Valen’s greetings with Lavinia. “Yes, he is currently in the middle of a waltz with the Archduchess of Orlais. Lavinia and I were just about to go and take a walk out on the terrace.”

Caladrius opened his mouth to say something more, but his eyes fell upon someone in the crowd. Valen followed his father’s gaze and his expression soured when he saw that his father was looking at Severia.

“Milady Cousland, ever a pleasure,” Caladrius bowed as was appropriate, “I trust that you are well? I am ever pleased to see a familiar face. Ah, but I am keeping you all from enjoying the party. If any of you wish to converse, Lavinia and I will be out on the terrace.” He gave them all nods and left, his wife on his arm.

Valen watched as they left, unnerved by the sight of his mother. He felt shame for seeing the woman there, shame which only he and his family knew the reason for. Oh, how he hated that woman now, knowing what he knew about her.

Blodwyn’s hand was on his shoulder again, her hand warm through the fabric of his shirt. He took solace in the touch and, in turn, placed his hand over hers.

“Let us be off to the party then,” he said, loud enough for all their company to hear. “There is much dancing and drinking to be done, after all.”

Freshly washed, all pink and soft from the bathing opportunity everyone was given, Severia hesitates in the tavern bedroom to observe herself in the mirror. Nervously thumbing the oval gem resting below her clavicle she sighs softly. Never before has the warrior felt so out of place. Usually she, a knight, is training or in battle. Yet soon she is to be in a noble's mansion. Wearing a dress. It's bizarre to go from hardened armor to a delicate fabric. Severia can only hope Teryn Loghain will be present and Valen hadn't simply been running his mouth off again like some idiot.

Being paired with Raelnor was ideal, he is a silent man which gives her time to think and keep alert without distraction. She's worn no make up and has made no attempt to hide the bold tattoo on her face. It is simply a part of herself, why hide it? Impressed Valen had the decency to mention her name to the guard Severia is guided inside. She marvels faintly at the structure but still keeps in mind she will be surrounded by mages tonight. Abrupt, boisterous laughter alerts her to whom has come into play now. Her cheeks suddenly become flushed (although they darken a crimson shade in some ire towards Valen for being so scornful to his own mother. Oh Severia's mother would have...would have...) She had always enjoyed Lord Caladrius and Lady Lavinia but she is still sometimes humbled by the fact that she had such a violent outburst against their son right in front of them years ago. "Lord Caladrius, Lady Lavinia. I fare well but I can only hope you both are doing even more so. You hold me from nothing. I'd like to enjoy your company further at some point tonight." it really has been too long since she's seen them.

Severia had leaned over towards Ryuu at that point to make a low remark. "Who would have ever thought that such people could produce an offspring as wretched as Valen." a coy little smirk as she glances towards the tall blonde man so chomping at the bit to get to drink and dance.

Jasper lingered towards the back of the processional. Not because he felt at all out-of-place; quite the contrary, he was quite comfortable in such a setting, and that was what bothered him. If he had not yet forgotten how to parade about in a doublet and trousers and socialize with people he found on the whole excessive and uninteresting, then it might not yet be soon enough for them to have forgotten him. He had removed the eyepatch for the sake of fitting in, though he fervently hoped this would not spark more questions on the subject. Blysse had been blessedly silent on the topic, at least as far as he could tell, but he wouldn't put it past someone who felt responsibility for the larger group, such as Ser Sev, and the problem was the explanation would inevitably yield more questions.

Ah well, naught to rely on but his luck then. Just as well he had the devil's own, he supposed.

He didn't miss much, and the strange state of Lady Lavinia's ears was noted, but ignored. There was a story there, he was sure of it, but there were other things to be considered. He wasn't here as himself, merely a part of the larger entourage of Blodwyn and Valen, but he knew very well that his sister would be. The letter had told him that though his parents were both unable to attend, Habren would be around somewhere. Jasper knew his sister was smart enough not to cause a scene if she should happen to see him, but he rather hoped she would not.

The group entered and separated, Which placed Jasper with Tiaryn and Arvin. Everyone knew everyone else by this point, in one way or another, but neither was particularly talkative soul (though he wasn't sure about non-animal Arvin). Either way, he'd probably have to do most of the socializing, since he and Tiaryn would be the only ones expected to speak. She looked a bit uncomfortable, not that he blamed her. If he had been trained to appreciate silence and avoid large crowds, this would be rather like a living nightmare for him. "Just try to relax," he told her in a low voice. "I'll take care of the talking."

And take care of it he did. It wasn't long before their little group had amassed quite a crowd, and Jasper was chatting amiably with lords and ladies that hadn't seen him in so long they wouldn't recognize him anyway. It was almost amusing, how simple it was to capture and hold their attention. Just a certain posture and tone of voice, an inoffensive joke here and there, and a few of his father's shorter war stories usually did the trick. He gathered tidbits of information here and there as well: who was most likely to support the Grey Wardens over Loghain, which other countries would be most hospitable if one or both of their former Crows decided to try something, and so forth.

Of all the damned people he had to be stuck to, it is Valen and Lisa. From what he's surmised he simply dislikes the both of them right off the bat. Both are shemlen for one thing. Valen, while not bad on the eyes, is such a pompous ass that Cash would love nothing more than to scream his ear off. And Lisa has already annoyed Cash from that forced conversation. Well forced listening rather. It was a pain having to sit there and have the woman try and talk to him. Tonight he is to play the part of a slave. There is no use disguising what he is to charade as tonight. The facade will be most difficult seeing as he is already scowling.

Buttoned up in a prim outfit he remains in the shadow of the two shemlens, visibly bristled and most certainly not looking forward to this. The woman with the scarred ears caught his attention but he would not speak until spoken to as Blodwyn had instructed him. Just one night. One night he can attempt to overcome this and will hopefully leave unscathed. For now the elf plucks a spare fluff off of his ruff before somberly glancing at the elves gracefully gliding around with platters balanced on their hands.

~~~

Unlike her brother Blysse is rather excited. She was relayed all of what Blodwyn had been telling them before the ball in Dalish by Cash, but has since then either chose to forget them or disregard them. She is flickering about like the playful entity that she is, her hair a golden wisp trailing after her. She had seen that Jasper was without his eyepatch but didn't point it out or flounder around him. If anyone were to inquire she'd still insist it was nothing to be concerned about. When Lord Caladrius and Lady Lavinia appear she must be held back by her brother to refrain from bounding for the ear-scarred woman. In the scandalously short dress given to her to wear Blysse plays with the white lace down by the hem. It stops mid-thigh although this doesn't bother the elf. Nor does it make her any less shy.

Although she knows well enough to remain close to Zephora. Periodically Blysse's attention narrows, ability to focus diminishing as she would poke the Chasind's shoulder while leaning the opposite way. This ball is so boring...until she sees all of the lovely, heavy dresses the Ladies are permitted to wear. Well...wait. Why is it she cannot dress like that for the ball? Her lips curl downward into a disappointed frown as she glances down at herself, ears dropping in hindsight as the toes of the white-gold boots on her feet turn inward meekly.

He had to be a slave? He had to again in his life time, oh he hated this his eyes showed it clearly. His face though was blank sometimes a smile when they passed other nobles or slaves. He had been given something to wear but he threw it back at them, he would wear an old outfit he use to wear during missions where he had to act like a slave once more; The outfit was made of a silk-like material that followed his elegant form, tight in areas of his body that was appropriate and complimenting, the material it was made from was slightly transparent so the skin beneath could be seen in tighter areas, and his hair; his hair he had fixed up nicely to add to his appeal. He even had bathed before hand to make his skin look more; fitting of a high noble's slave. He felt stupid though, the outfit was more for; well to be frank for nobles to parade the slaves they let their company use as toys off. He had to admit he wasn't comfortable doing this anymore, he could feel eyes on him; but every time he searched for them he could never find them.

He heard Severia's words but only nodded to them. "Yeah..I know, but I swear to you, I'll make you pay if you make me do anything upseen..." He stated with a harsh tongue as he gave her a glare, but not a rude one; more of one done between friends when they were serious and scared of the outcome at the same time. He shifted in his place alittle, watching people dance and drink and be marry; though the most he watched was the elves that scurried between nobles with trays of food and drinks, ugh he felt disgusted by how his kind was treated. Though there was nothing he could do as he just stood there, watching; and being watched. He swore he could feel eyes upon his buttocks, and more so on his abdomen as if he was prize winning animal in needed of inspection. He bowed to Severia. "Mistress is there anything I can get for you.." The words were hollow, though they were ment, he'd rather do some scouting about then just standing there being inspected. when he rose from his bow his eyes stared up into her's asking if he could just go and do some scouting, he couldn't stand being a slave; and this way he could at least move around alittle. The meeting of the siblings noble parents made him feel sick, and just knowing that he had to suffer through more nobles later on, he wanted some time to stretch his legs; at least for alittle while. He even looked over at Ser Raelnor, wondering if he wanted anything; giving him more time to walk and do what he did best; stalk his target for the night; though he had yet to see the man, he wasn't going to leave here without trying.

Asmara Surana

Asmara shifted uncomfortably in her gown. Though much, much simpler and less ornate than what most of the other women were wearing, it was still far more than she was used to in terms of both delicacy and expense. All the silk and velvet... it made her feel a little silly.

She stuck rather close to her group as they advanced past the introductions and headed into the ballroom proper. Asmara wondered how people like Lady Blodwyn and Ser Sev ever dealt with things like this on a regular basis; her hair kind of hurt, piled on top of her head with so many sharp pins like it was, and though the gown was sort of like a really long robe, it felt like it might tear or something at the slightest provocation. She tried to move as delicately as possible and remain light on her feet, though whether this was for the sake of the garment or simply a reflection of her nerves, she could not say.

She had to keep reminding herself that she was supposed to be a servant, too. It was a bit strange, that some people had a job simply doing whatever other people wanted them to do. She'd never really been exposed to it before; the closest she'd come was the occasional merchant with a servant, and she'd always thought those were apprentices or something.

Then there was all the looking. People seemed to constantly be sizing each other up or something, and some of them weren't even trying to hide it. It was strange; she was used to people glaring at her, but this was a bit different again. Luckily, most of them eventually probably decided she wasn't all that interesting, because every time she met someone's eyes, they moved on.

"Um..." she began, looking to Antius, Gann, and Merle, "What are we supposed to do now?"

Tiaryn Ormet

Tiaryn brushed invisible lint from her own ensemble and glanced around warily. She hated crowds, truly. She didn't much like the Ferelden way of doing things, either; why were all the servants elven? She would have much rather gone into this thing as a servant herself; a common guise in her line of work, but apparently that was so inconceivable that she'd been forced to make an irritatingly-movement-impaired spectacle of herself by wearing a bloody dress, of all things. How was she supposed to remain inconspicuous like this? How many of these silly nobles were visibly scarred and as unsociable as she was? Well, at least it was black; better to blend later, if she needed to.

Her gaze flicked to Ryuu, looking rather uncomfortable, and then to the rest of the crowd. She might have questioned the wisdom of his choice in vestry, but then she was never the sort of assassin he was, so he probably knew something she did not. Instead, she took in as much as possible, memorizing the layout of the room and the more permanent furnishings, things that would not change at a moment's notice.

The man named Jasper must have sensed her unease, because he offered to take care of the socialization, which she readily agreed to with a grateful nod. That was surprisingly considerate, and upon observation, she figured it was also very wise. He clearly knew what he was doing, and was soon hosting a rather large group of the wealthy and landed, though she noted somewhat wryly that the vast majority of his listeners were women. That figured.

She did not spot anyone matching the description of Teyrn Loghain, which was mildly disconcerting, but if Tiaryn could be said to possess any of the characteristics most often known as virtues, it would be patience. She would watch, and she would wait for the signal to move. At least the damned dress allowed for the concealment of many of her favorite trade tools.