Ferelden

The Dalish siblings align themselves rigidly at the alarming cries from the direction of their camp. They recognize Ser Sev's beastly call but not that of the man squaring off with the lady knight. Without hesitation they take off after the agile Ryuu. Blysse draws her bow and takes off towards the camp with the warg plundering alongside her, poor Cash tries to keep up and plans on staying out of the way. Blysse inhales sharply through her teeth, a hiss. Withdrawing two arrows with serrated heads for more shred power, Blysse pulls them back on the string of her bow. She takes aim and...yet is that not a holy man among humans? Then why is...oh, right. They are humans.

"Shemlen, did you intend for this? We have done nothing wrong!" the elf calls out to the armored man as she encircles the front of the cave, a restless predator. Blysse keeps her allies within range to be able to help them should this be a trap. Then again...well...why must they fight? The sunshine elf chews on her bottom lip, squinting through the drizzling rain. If anything she would love to avoid confrontation unlike their meat head of a knight with her burly dog.

Cash remains on the outskirts for moral support. He is nervously clutching his panpipes to his chest while the other hand unworldly grasps the hilt of his dagger. Oh the boy doesn't belong here at all and he knows it. Better to leave things to his sister and the others whom know what to do in the face of battle.

Raelnor’s eyes quickly latched onto the charging Mabari from behind his helmed face. This wasn’t a camp of bandits! But he couldn’t stop now, he’d have to fight defensively and wait for an opening where he could explain his grave error.

As the Mabari lunged out for him, Raelnor quickly stopped his change, planted his feet firmly and dropped into a defensive crouch. He raised his shield and the warhound bit into the wooden construct, it's maw dripping with saliva. Raelnor felt his legs tighten and strain as he pushed forwards, throwing the dog off his shield and standing back up about to shout surrender.

Before he could do so the female slammed into his shield with her own. He wasn’t prepared this time and he felt his feet slipping on the damp ground of the cave’s mouth. He skidded back, out into the rain before he managed to break free and swing his sword in a slow and easily dodged strike, simply meant to give him some breathing room.

At that moment an elf, who Raelnor couldn’t get a good look on account of the rogue being behind him, rushed out of the woods with an arrow notched and ready to fie. He said something to the other elf, but Raelnor couldn't hear it over the rain. I won’t die like André, he thought through gritted teeth. Luckily the elf held his fire, apparently trying not to hit the other elf that was closing in for another attack in front of Raelnor.

Once again raising his shield in defense, the Templar bated away an incoming sword strike. He was surprised by it’s power and how such a small female could deliver such a skilled strike, but now wasn’t the time for admiration. Pivoting on his heels, Raelnor spun round just in time to catch an arrow the elf assassin (Ryuu) had fired in the shield. To do this left him open to the Mabari who, seeing an opening, launched forwards at his armored left leg. While the steel prevented his calf from being shredded into nothingness, the power of the beast’s bite forced him off balance and he fell to one knee. Raelnor swung his body and lashed out with another slow strike at the Mabri, giving it time to move out of the way and forcing it to free his leg.

Another two elves, Dalish by what the Templar could see, came out of the woods. One had a bow and two notched arrows and Raelnor knew that if he couldn’t get them to stand down soon he would die with his duty unfulfilled. At that moment the female elf who had so recently emerged from the woods with arrows at the ready, called out to him,

"Shemlen, did you intend for this? We have done nothing wrong!"

Raelnor, snatching the chance to get a word in before his opponents renewed their attack, shouted at the top of his lungs.

“I surrender!”

He could only hope they could hear his call through his helmet and the sound of the poring rain.

Oh, curse my overactive stomach. Arvin grumbled to himself, or tried to while in the sleek, prowling form of the wild cat. Arvin had originally gone out to help find some of the other party members to bring them together, but the rain had helped to confuse him when he tried to follow their scents. Along the way he'd grown hungry, and stopped to stalk a rabbit. Such a delicious kill, afterwords he'd had to clean off his now bloody fur. Although halfway through it Arvin had stopped himself, realizing he was letting the feline instincts guide him more than his human ones. A new scent had cropped up, one that registered as familiar to his human brain, and that the feline instincts did not enjoy. It was only after stalking the scent that lead straight to a conflict did he recognize why it seemed so familiar and yet so frightening. A slight twinge of lyrium laced with the cold scent of steel and human. It was a scent Arvin had come to associate with the templar in the Circle Tower.

His eyes burned a fierce emerald, one of few traits that gave his form away as false. Arvin the lynx stalked through tall grass, fur matted down to his body thanks to the unfavorable weather. The flash of a blade and quick movement startled him, however. Alarms flared from his instincts, trying to get the feline to run form the battling humans, but Arvin knew better than to listen to them at this moment. The great cat began to charge in, hoping for a shock and awe attack that would leave the man surprised, and hopefully disemboweled. Arvin felt the vicious claws of the feline slide out and gouge the ground. A low, guttural growl issued forth as Arvin closed in, breaking into a full on roar. And just like that, the fight had ended, the man crying out his surrender as he'd fallen to one knee thanks to the hound that Severia kept around.

Arvin was surprised that the man would just give up like that, skidding to a halt upon the muddy ground proved quite difficult, and for several moments, the feline scrambled to find a purchase with his claws, nearly falling over face first to stop himself. Arvin mentally groaned, and in an effort to save face, issued another warning growl. Hopefully his clumsiness went unnoticed, although his white underbelly fur was spattered with mud.

Severia was relieved when the others arrived with impeccable timing. She knew she could always rely on them, those rogues, as opposed to that useless mage and his hocus pocus. Flippantly aggravated the woman continues her onslaught against the offending Templar. Stressful and enraging hormones begin leaking into her system. Nervous system tapping into her glands they secrete the poison to churn her muscles and give extra force behind each blow to come. Right now her bloodstream is filled to the brim with adrenalin and cortisol. Chomping at the bit to keep everything just the woman does not slow nor recognize any submissive signs, having already been laden with offense.

Her determined valor is tenfold with the reinforcement she has from the rogues. Still that peace keeper of an elf (Maker bless her) calls out to the man, veiled with confusion. The Templar throws in the towel and Severia halts the next coming swing of her blade as a lynx plunges in the area. Giving the shifter Arvin a flat stare she sheathes her sword and approaches the Templar. The man is down on one knee and the lady knight extends an open hand to help him up, in this way also extending an olive branch for the time. Should this indeed be a pious Templar and not some fiend aching to harm them. Her other hand is held up with a flat palm to reassure the others as well as coax Kujo to cease charging for the man. "Up. To what end did you see it fit to ambush us on your lonesome?" in the background the mabari remains bristled and glaring at the stranger, showing his teeth with sputtering snarls.

Cash could only watch with awe at the rate they all reacted and suddenly willed themselves to stop for the man's surrendered sake. He leans against against a nearby tree to relieve his body of tension, sighing as he tucks away his items. Blysse herself does not yet put away her weapon. She's not convinced of them man entirely and would much prefer to hear his explanation. For now the Dalish shifts to shield her baby brother, letting the warrioress handle this confrontation with charge.

Raelnor’s rises quickly, taking the female’s hand for show but not actually using it to hoist himself up. The idea of being helped off one knee by a female was disconcerting.

“Up. To what end did you see it fit to ambush us on your lonesome?”

He sheathed his sword and shrugged the shield onto his back after yanking out the arrow that hand been shot into it. Raelnor kept his helmet on though, as he always did. The elf who refused to lower her bow made him edgy, and he kept one hand on his sword just incase they decided to renew their efforts. Raelnor wasn’t going to just fall over and die.

“My Brother Templar was killed by a group of bandits who then captured a child. A mage child who we were bringing to the Circle Tower.”

Raelnor looked around, his dark eyes scanning the forest.

“I’ll admit to having poor tracking skills and in my best efforts of pursuit, I lost their trail some time ago. I believed luck had guided me to the bandit’s camp. I was mistaken.”

He made it a point not to apologize for his actions. He was in the right, after all, and did what his duty called of him, given the circumstances. There was no need to apologize for that in his mind.

“You wouldn’t happen to have seen such a group of bandits? They would have been fleeing from Lothering, not more then five hours ago.”

The Templar gazed up into the sky where the rain was still beating down. That meant it had rained for almost six hours, give or take, without halt. He gritted his teeth. Thats a very bad omen. Raelnor had only seen it rain like that after a great battle, or great slaughter.

“If you could find a way to trust me, may we adjourn to the cave? This unnatural rain has already wreaked enough havoc on my armor as it is.”

Teyrn Loghain, the patriot of Ferelden, a traitor? Responsible for the death of the King? The murder of my Templar brothers? How? Why? Bruce thought, his eyes locked to the ground and his hand scratched the back of his head, gently touching the small burn marks that he had.
“If what you say is true, mage, then I fear that you are up against forces which are beyond your magical powers,” Bruce said, not sounding the least bit encouraging for Asmara and the future that she now held. “You are standing alone against all of Ferelden…Maybe even more than that. You either need to get out of Ferelden, and fast, or…You need someone with a good social standing to protect you while you are here.”

Bruce’s looked at Asmara with an interested look, “I believe that you are saying. The Chantry told me not to allow emotions to blind my faith, however…When faith and emotions sees as one, there is one solution. Utter determination,” Bruce said with a chilling tone and a twisted smile.
“Patriot, or not, I shall not sit on my bottom and simply allow a man to be responsible for the death of so many honorable Templars, yet my voice is nothing compared to that of the Chantry’s or the lords’, but you, Warden, your voice will be greater. I have a rank which is respected by noble and commoner, you have the voice that I don’t, and you…Mage-” Bruce said and then looked at Antius, thinking for something to say to muster courage, yet he found none-“You’ll serve fine as you are.”

It was true what they said about the Templars, once they had set their minds to something, they were damn hard to reason to do otherwise or think otherwise. In this case, Bruce had set his mind on doing the Chantry a favor and delivering justice to Teyrn Loghain; wouldn’t’ have been the first time he had simply carried out an improper trial with himself as judge.
“I’ve lost friends, the Chantry has lost Templars, good Templars. Teyrn Loghain is no patriot. He’s an apostate to my eyes now,” Bruce concluded, malice and hatred was hissing around in his voice as he looked determined at the two mages before him.

I can’t possibly do this alone, and as much as I hate to admit it, I need the help of both a mage and a Grey Warden. Teyrn Loghain will have much to pay for that…Patriotic apostate!

Once the man had surrendered Ryuu whistled letting Lenwë know the battle had ended. The warg slowly padded back to his side sitting there. Ryuu himself watched the male closely, though bow had been restrung to rest on his back, and left there. He knew he was not needed to keep the man in check with Blysse was standing there arrow already notched and ready to fire. He listened to the man, the thought of a templar being killed by the bandits they had so easily bested was quite amusing to him, then again he had bested a templar himself when he was working for the crows. "We killed a bandit troop not long ago. Though no child had been amongst their ranks, at least none that i could find in the perimeter after we had finished them off." The Templar then asked for the parties trust. An amusing gesture, though one they could use to their advantage. "I know I'm far from the leader of our motley crew, but I saw we give him the benefit of doubt, who knows it could be worth our own benefit."

He had voiced his opinion, wither the action was carried, or abandoned it wasn't his to choose or his right to guess. He would follow the orders set forth, and continue to do his own duties, though lacking as they maybe. He felt uneasy as well, the words from the templar about the rain spurred his own mind on what could be going on just beyond this forest. He rested a weary hand on his mount's head scratching just between the ears, a way to comfort himself and to show Lenwë that nothing was wrong with him, for the over-sized mutt could always tell when something was bothering him. He continued the actions of his hand as he watched Severia, trying to see any change in facial features to figure out what her decision would be, though failing miserably. Warriors were so hard to read sometimes never showing facial expressions unless it was the angry look of a war-cry, or that of anguish from pain. He chuckled alittle to himself as his thoughts grew a voice. "I truly need to find sometime to myself, I'm beginning to read to much into situations like these" Once that though had been voiced; his mind went blank and he stood there, feeling like time had frozen, only knowing better due to the soft pitter patter of the droplets from the tree leafs and underbrush that had been soaked during the heavy rains.

Despite herself, a chill ran down Asmara's spine at the Templar's words. Utter determination... she'd been on the wrong end of that, before. She was perhaps fortunate to be alive despite it. Maybe that was why she had been made a Warden: known apostates did not often survive long. Then again, maybe it was the fact that the people in the town she'd lived beside had several times failed to turn her over to such inquisition due to her benign nature. It helped, being able to heal their sickness when the Chantry could not.

All of that though, was in the past, and she was going to need all she had to survive the present. "Then if you would be my shield, Ser, I would be your voice where yours might not reach." Her tone was solemn, and there was perhaps more weight behind it than nineteen-year-olds were truly meant to carry. But, fair or not, it was a burden she had accepted willingly, and she would bear it until it killed her, by taint or by the cruelty of men, whichever came first. "I would appreciate your help as well, if you would give it, Antius. I know not how many other Grey Wardens might be around, or even if any survived Ostagar, but I think seeking them out might be a good idea, and I know well enough the value of magic."

Asmara was bone-weary and ready to drop, but if the two men thought moving now would be a good idea, then she would force herself to keep on walking. Not for the first time, she wished dearly that she had not been separated from her beloved horse, but things were as they were and not otherwise; dwelling upon it would serve her no purpose.

It was ironic, really, the fact that someone like Ser Le-Guy was offering his assistance to someone like her, and she felt a bit guilty for not being completely forthright with him about her former status. Still she was apostate no longer; another mage-Warden had checked her for any signs of blood magic or possession and found none, so as far as anyone need know, she had never been one at all. She looked between the two of them, and for the first time in two weeks, believed she might actually survive this whole incident, let alone the night.

Severia withdrew her hand once the taller warrior was standing. Putting respective distance between them she inhales the Templar's words, mulling them over tactfully. Although the suggestion of the warm cave is high incentive she is not about to make a final decision without word from the elves. They are her team members in all of this pandemonium and she is learning to rely upon, cherish and trust them (save for Arvin). It isn't that she considers herself the absolute ruler. Her noble bloodline and fiery charisma gave her the gun-ho spirit a champion is required. Still she values the words of the others, listening to Ryuu. With a slow nod to confirm the assassin's opinion she glances to the Dalish siblings whom simply bow their heads.

"Very well. We'll discuss more in the cave and over a cup of cider. What Ryuu has told you is true." had she known there was a child in peril Severia would've handled the bandits differently, tormented them for answers. The amazonian casts a leer at Arvin in his lynx form. Squaring her shoulders she stiffens her back openly at him. He arrived late! At least even Ryuu could outrun him. "Gather your mounts, this rain won't let up soon." the clouds are pregnant with their glum as Severia guides Blue Moon inside of the cave. The man had erred and made no move to repent for it. Still it was obviously a mistake to be overlooked.

The lady knight nods her head and shepherds the group into the toasty shelter. Cinnamon and apple fill the air as the pot bubbles and froths. Being nobility she is no decent cook but can recall simple recipes, notably hot beverages. Severia rifles some tin cups from one of the packs as well as a serving ladle. She fills one for those in the cave and passes them out before using the safety of a thick glove to remove the pot from the crackling fire. The tattooed woman removes her gauntlets for now, rubbing her numbed fingers over the flames before so dearly cupping the steaming drink in ermine palms. "I am Severia Sorcha Cousland, I prefer to be addressed as 'Ser Sev'.", she's not sure how much influence her family name holds anymore nor to whom but introductions are a simple courtesy from her upbringing, "A group of bandits tried to overwhelm us and failed. There was no sign of a child from what I saw. They could possibly have been the ones that overwhelmed yourself, Ser Templar."

~~~

Blysse had slowly lowered her bow, slinging it across her back. With a frown she watched Severia go inside the cave with the Templar. His abyssal helm gave her chills. Aren't Templars supposed to be comforting, friendly? At least that's what Ser Sev once expressed to her. Then again that could have been just the handful their tank met in early years. She called for Dareth and embraced the great halla's soggy ruff, inquiring if he would like a warm place to be. The halla bleats before softly trodding his cloven hooves inside of the vast cave, tucking himself against a wall with a sigh.

The elven maiden does not yet join the halla but goes to the muddy lynx. She smiles meekly and pokes at his tufted ears. Blysse wrings out her hair under the shelter of the tree as she looks at Arvin. "Aneth ara lethallin.", she greets warmly despite the achingly chilling rainstorm, "So you know why I'm here then. You know, for a shemlen, she isn't half bad. I do wish she'd be kinder to you though. Ma serannas for not stirring up the pot." if there's one thing she can't stand, it's confrontation. Blysse can only hope Severia and Arvin don't kill each other before they can all rid the land of this Blight. Blysse knows she must be strong must be indifferent to slaughter. Yet it's still difficult for her. Back in her clan she was a simple scout and would often spend her time with the children or the halla.

Looking away, troubled, she steps closer to Arvin as water trickles down her mostly bare skin. In her clan it's expected for those of her training to hardly wear armor. Their speed and acrobatics will get them out of danger. And hopefully so will their companions. "Let's head back to the cave. I don't want Severia sending her hound after you again. Then I'll have to stitch your trousers a second time." the optimistic fae grins with mirth. Blysse grabs his scruff and wrenches to turn him over playfully. "I'll race you!" the spritely young elf turns and gracefully bounds off towards the cave.

~~~

He feigns disinterest as Ryuu seems to have a moment with the warg although in reality he is watching with rapt attention. Cash has never been near one of the feral beasts until the assassin came along. Even back in the clan he would never venture too far from the huts nor get too near to the halla. For an elf Cash has simply never cared for animals. He's never cared to befriend them, never cared to eat them either. Meat turns his stomach and with how bloody things are with the Grey Wardens...well it doesn't give him any bigger of an appetite.

Not wanting to be left behind the bard quickly scurries inside, shaking his thick hair and twisting his ponytail to rid it of water at the mouth of the cave. Cash opted to lean against a wall near the fire as he gently blew across the surface of cider, sipping gingerly every few moments. He remains silent and allows the meeting to roll out as it wished.

The leer was returned by the lynx, and Arvin gave a small snort. If he'd known the fight was with Severia, maybe he wouldn't have gotten there at all. There seemed to be a point of contention between her and his magic, though Arvin could hardly understand why. Of course, Arvin had been raised in the circle most of his life, with his nose buried in books and training his magic, worrying if he was to become a tranquil or tossed into the fade with the hopes that he could kill a demon. Not an ideal life, but the only one he'd known. And it's not like he asked for magic. Although he couldn't imagine life without it. How non-magic users went about their day was beyond him.

Nevertheless, the pleasure of a fellow elf's kindness was not lost upon him, and Arvin gave the lynx form's best attempt at a smile. Arvin was tempted to revert to his elven form, but it was just too damned comfortable to remain in fur, much warmer than the cloth robes he wore. At Blysse's words, he attempted a shrug, but only succeeded at looking goofy. Arvin didn't blame her for the trouble Severia gave him. When beneath the shelter of the tree, he did shake himself off, fur fluffing up at the movements. Short tail puffed up behind him and waving back and forth. Taking a step towards the elven ranger, Arvin bumped his snout against her leg, an appreciative gesture, even though she brought up the time that Severia's cursed hound tore into his trousers when he was lagging behind.

Arvin still swore that he would have been able to take the mutt if it had been a fair fight. If he would have been in bear form, he would have slapped the mabari silly. All of this was communicated to her through purrs and meowing. Arvin's lynx form was a bit larger than the average Ferelden lynx, and was past Blysse's thigh when sitting up. Grabbing his scruff was enough to passify the large cat, and Arvin rolled over without protest before he'd even known what had happened. And by that time she had gone racing off. Scrambling back to his paws, the lynx let out a small growl, bounding off after the elf in the rain, hoping to get to the cave before his fur got anymore wet than it was.

“I am Severia Sorcha Cousland, I prefer to be addressed as ‘Ser Sev’.”

Raelnor eyed the girl up and down from behind his helmet. She was fair skinned and her face was clearly that of superior breeding, so he reasoned a Noble. The strike she had landed on his shield had given him a clue as to her physical prowess. This was not a noble who spent much time in the political game, perhaps one of the more warring families? Raelnor stopped himself, why does it matter? I am not here to think about a female who fancies herself a warrior.

“You may call be Raelnor Dryden,”

He said in a cold tone,

“and I thank you for your hospitality in this matter.”

Severia nodded back in response.

“A group of bandits tried to overwhelm us and failed. There was no sign of a child from what I saw. They could possibly have been the ones that overwhelmed yourself, Ser Templar.”

Raelnor let out a frustrated sigh. He was thankful for their deaths, but had wished to do the deed himself. Still, it was done and he would have to be satisfied. Sadly this brief satisfaction of vengeance was soon eclipsed by the realization that, if the girl had not been with the bandits, he had no way of finding out where she was.

“Thank you for the information, Ser Sev. I am in your debt.”

Severia poured cups of cider for each of the group and handed one to Raelnor. He thought about refusing the drink, but thought it best not to be rude and accepted. Holding the tin cup gingerly in his gloved hands, the warmth that radiated through was greatly appreciated and Raelnor considered shedding some of his armor, but decided it was best not to. He would wait here until his armor dried and this Maker-forsaken rain died down.

“When the rain stops, I shall take my leave and head to Lothering to see the girl’s family. Perhaps, if I am lucky, she fled the bandits and headed back home.”

As time wore on and his armored began to dry Raelnor couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. He constantly stared at the noble woman, who for some unknown reason, was sitting in a cave in the middle of the Wilds… Very odd. Not only that, but she seemed to surround herself with elves. Most likely servants, he reasoned, so perhaps that was not so strange. But the Lynx that had bounded into the cave behind one of the elves thoroughly mystified him.

“It is clear you are of Noble stock, Ser Sev. What brings you to such a dismal place? And why in such strange company? Are these elves your personal servants?”

Ryuu was the last one into the cave smiling as he pat his mount on the head ever so gently and waved him inside as well, finding a shadowed area alittle farther away from the fire then the rest, though still he accepted the cup with thanks. He sipped at it slowly, letting the warmth fill his form. Lenwë had curled up, and with that Ryuu leaned back against the shaggy beast using him as a over-sized pillow even though they were both damp. He listened to the words with peaked interest between the Templar and Severia, his bladed-weaponry returned to his form the sword strapped to his back and the Dirk to his waist.

His curiosity, turned into animosity at the word servert; his mind bringing forth flashes of his past as a slave on his travels to Antiva as a small child, though before the travels were blank to him, as if most of his childhood was an empty darkness. Though still he scoffed. "I'd no more serve a human then I would the darkspawn.." His voice seemed to echo thanks to the acoustics of the cave. Though soon he realized that his hostility was founded in the wrong area. How would this man know any better? A human Templar; men of the faith, well not his faith but theirs, were accustom to seeing Elves as no more then furniture to nobility, and with that how else would they be seen? Three elves; four counting the Magi, traveling with a woman of noble birth, to be honest he could see the logic from that conclusion. He let out an audible sigh and bowed his head, though he doubt it could be seen. "My apologizes Ser, but that word is one that has gotten many humans killed by my hand, and it still has a nasty draw upon my ever hidden temper." Ryuu was a docile person, if not happy-go-lucky. Which would seem strange due to his past chosen profession. He had been honest to all of the party, about his past, and what he had done. Though it was behind him, the memories of it ever haunted his dreams; and the fact he could never truly escape from it, dulled his will sometimes. Though never in company of his friends here.

Raelnor Dryden. The name is branded in memory.

Lothering is not too far. "Maker willing she did and made it safely." Severia murmurs against the spiced steam of her drink. A drenched blob of muscle plunders to lean against her shoulder. The mabari whines keenly in his mistress' ear, irking her to drastically tilt her head away from the clingy hound. Severia lifts her arms to placate the dog whom promptly throws himself across her lap with a content sigh. She rests her arms along Kujo's broad shoulders as she downs the cider. Warmth flows through her as heat builds along her armor. In this she finds peace and forgets about the shadows hammocked beneath her eyes, facaded by the purple ink, eyes allured by the fire.

The Templar brings her back to the present and she hums faintly to prepare an answer--when Ryuu so sharply cuts in. For a moment expression, genuine humor, curls a smirk along her mouth from the elf's swift words. "You are far too stubborn to be bridled, Ryuu. It'd make you a poor member of servitude which is what has kept you so unbound." she refills her drink and instead of having it for herself settles it before the twitching nose of her hound before glancing to the concealed Templar. "Nay, Ser Raelnor. These elves are my companions. We seek refuge and answers from the rising darkspawn.", she is not about to reveal to him what she is nor what Ryuu is, "After my home and family were destroyed I sought aid from relatives only to be turned away after warnings and sighting of darkspawn." in her mind, a flash of her luxurious home, of kind faces dropped in the plush carpeted halls.

Severia blinks and banishes the memory. "We ourselves were hoping to go to Lothering to renew supplies, hear news perhaps. If you can promise not to wave your sword at me again I'm sure we could all go together." she adds with dry humor, stoking the flames. Severia wonders why the Dalish siblings are being presently silent but makes no move to force them into anything. Although she pointedly keeps her focus in the opposite direction of the lynx.

Despite himself, Antius couldn't help but smile. Three people setting out to stop the Blight, two of them Magi and one of them a Templar. Something like this had not been done in an Age. How could he say no to this? His studies could be put on hold for awhile. After all, if this land was corrupted by the Taint, then his studies would cease entirely.

"I would be honored to accompany you on your quest. As soon as I can, I will write to the First Enchanter about what I'm doing. I have no doubt he'd give me his permission. If not, well, I have six months before I'm required to report in at the Tower anyway," Antius told her with excitement coloring his voice. By helping this beautiful Grey Warden, he'd be able to see the world and learn far more than he would cooped up in the Tower.

"Hmm... Senior Enchanter Uldred would have a fit if he found out I was traveling with a Templar as an ally. He never liked me anyway. He always had a stick up his arse," he mused aloud before coloring slightly, "Forgive me for my language."

"Typical." is all Cash musters, grumbling about elves and slavery. He had watched Ryuu reprimand such words and fell silent to enjoy his soothing drink. Blysse enters the cave with the lynx in tow. Blissfully unaware of the sore topic she did catch the announcement of Lothering. If they all do travel together they should get better acquainted. The flaxen haired elf smiles at the Templar (albeit nervously) as she fills a cup of cider for the lynx, setting it down. "I won't aim my arrows at you again, honest. I am Blysse and sulking over there is my brother, Cash. We helped Severia in the woods and haven't wanted to return yet." there's something bigger going on in Ferelden, in all of Thedas perhaps, than the forest. Blysse knew Severia intentionally left out the Grey Warden bit and so made no comment of it.

"Oh, sorry this is Arvin...he ah...he's not quite himself right now." Blysse remarks absently with a rather oblivious expression as she watches the soggy lynx. She inwardly wonders if Arvin shifts back, will he be clothed? For the sake of decency, hopefully he will be. Or he'll at least spare them and go in the shadows near Ryuu. Her brother still doesn't get involved with the conversation and sits down against the wall, encircling his finger along the rim of his cup somberly.

Arvin didn't like the company of a templar. After years in the tower, mages were brought to fear them. Although now Arvin really didn't fear them anymore, their presence did make him uncomfortable. He shot a glare at the man, friendly or not. Sitting back on his haunches, Arvin nodded to Blysse when she set a cup of hot cider in front of him, thanking her. He sat near the fire, leaning his head down and lapping at the cider. Arvin grimaced, however. Cats tasted differently than humanoids did. The sweetness of the cider was lost on it. So Arvin instead stalked into the darkness of the cave away from the fire.

It's not that he did not have any clothing on, that was transformed with him. Though he didn't care if Severia or the templar watched, in fact, he'd rather sicken them with the cracking sound of bones reforming into a humanoid shape; Arvin would spare the rest of the party that sight, and some of the sounds. Shifting back into human form always made him feel sick, gripped in a sense of vertigo. In the span of a few moments, the Lynx's hair had retracted into his skin, his teeth had flattened out, he stood on two legs now. Arvin straightened his robes, though they were still wet. He shivered a bit, the fur was providing a good amount of warmth.

With that business over, Arvin stepped back into the firelight, walking over to his spot next to his cider, warming himself near the flames. Hoping his robe would dry out. Arvin picked up the cup of cider and took a sip, sighing lightly "Ah, much better." after setting his cup of cider down, Arvin rubbed his hands together and held them out to the fire for warmth "Thank you, Blysse." pointedly not looking in the direction of Severia or the templar. "I tried finding you and your brother earlier, but I'm not so good a tracker in the rain it seems." He mentioned to the elven ranger, giving a light shrug as an apology.

Bruce nodded at the two mages, he was satisfied with the position that he had now appointed himself. They will rely on me to watch their backs, which will be both a burden and a blessing. If something happens then it won’t be too hard to dispose of them, after all, they are mages so strip them of their magic and you strip them of their powers, Bruce thought, having a little struggle not to smirk.

Of course, Bruce couldn’t just turn his back to them anytime some, and he knew that neither could they. The two mages were sort of respected, however the Grey Warden was hated by the majority, while the other mage was just feared for being different; that’s where Bruce came in, he would be the one who would make people take aside and listen to what they would say, after all Templars held an unseen social rank, between nobility and higher classed commoners.

Bruce turned his head as Antius spoke and merely shrugged, “I wouldn’t fear the Circle too much now, if I was you, mage,” Bruce said, still not really wanting to address Antius as a real person or even as ser mage. “With a Templar in your company, I’m confident that the Knight-Commander wouldn’t be too worried concerning your possible…Late arrival.”

Bruce hadn’t spent that much time in the Tower of Mages. He had been there for maybe a combined amount of a year and a half in all of his service, all the other time he had served elsewhere. Fetching would-be mages from distant villages and then he had led a great deal of raids and attacks against heretics, apostates and even loose abominations, that was how he had earned his title as ‘The Apostate Hunter’. Bruce was ruthless when it came to hunting the wicked, and he showed little mercy, often bringing the mages back with broken hands and bloody faces (sometimes they didn’t return at all).

“Well, as this is settled, I suggest that we catch some sleep. There is a long journey before us,” Bruce declared and then returned the chainmail hood and his helmet to his head, placed the bottle of wine back in his bag and then, using his bag as a pillow, he laid on the ground, his thick cloak used as his blanket against the cold win of the night.
“I trust the fire will keep all unwanted animals away,” Bruce said and then closed his eyes to sleep.

As soon as Ser Le-Guy's head hit his makeshift pillow, much of the tension that had been keeping Asmara taut as a Dalish bowstring evaporated, and she smiled. It was one of the girl's most notable faults that she trusted far too quickly, and despite the unheard thoughts in the Templar's head, she would once again make that leap of faith for someone she could scarcely be said to know. Just as she had when she had stumbled upon Antius in the first place. The Templar who had offered her his shield had her trust, and she did not know enough to be afraid of him breaking it.

She knew that she could sleep safely; if there were any Darkspawn about, she would sense them and wake long before they reached the camp, and she figured that between the three of them, somebody would be sure to hear a party of Loghain's trackers, but all the same, she knew she would not be willing her mind to still this night. Rather than fight this, she chose to embrace it, and stood to stretch herself out. It would do no good to let her overtaxed muscles cramp in place after all, and pulling everything back into place in proximity of the heat from the fire was probably the best way to go at the moment.

Rotating a sore shoulder, she directed just a little bit of her magic through her system, sighing softly as it worked to her very bones, easing much of the pain. Her cuts expelled possible infection and sealed into tiny red lines; it would of course be possible to eliminate these entirely, but it was best to be economic with her energy right now.

Resuming her seat on the log some distance away from Bruce, she glanced over at Antius. "Feel free to sleep also. I will keep a watch, and let you know if anything ill approaches." The Warden offered a wan smile, then shifted her eyes to the evening sky. Her teachers had taught her a game for keeping herself awake, which involved seeking out all of the constellations in the sky and naming as many of the individual stars in them as possible. It was more enjoyable than it sounded, or at least that was how she would explain it if anyone were to ask. She was truthfully still not all that accustomed to company, as her life had been a largely solitary one for a number of years now.

Antius frowned a bit as the Templar decided to turn in for the night. The Templar refused to acknowledge him as a real person, despite agreeing to accompany them. Nevertheless, he decided he could live with it. It wasn't like relations ingrained in them from years of training would suddenly go away. As long as the Templar didn't harm him or Asmara, then he was content. He raised an eyebrow as she offered to take first watch. He smiled a little, not knowing of the trade-offs of being a Grey Warden. She was too kind.

"No, you've been on the run for weeks. You should be the run resting," he told her, shaking his head, "I may not be a healing mage, but even I know that everyone, even Grey Wardens, need some sleep. I'll keep watch. I insist. It's a long journey to Lothering."

He frowned a little. If only he bothered to learn the sleep spell. If she refused, then all he'd have to do is silently cast it.

Asmara nodded. She was not the type to argue heatedly or often, and even though she might have tried to convince Antius that he'd be better off trying to enter the Fade than she, she was presently too drained to even make the attempt. Instead, she aligned herself so that her back was pressed against the length of the log and promised herself that she would make an effort to get something out of the time that had been gifted her. "You are most kind," she replied simply, than added, almost as an afterthought: "If you need to stay awake, try naming all the stars."

Not quite awake enough any longer to realize that this was in fact a non sequitur despite being aligned with her private thoughts from a few moments ago, Asmara yawned despite herself and allowed her eyes to flutter shut, pillowing her head on one arm for lack of any better solution. Whatever her own suspicions might have been about the ease or difficulty she would have, sleep found her scant moments later, and she wandered the Fade aimlessly in her dreams. she had had more occasion to do so than most mages, and the realms of dream and the beyond held no apprehension for her. Whatever the reason, she was not often troubled by demons or malignant spirits, but rather had come to think of the other world as a sort of haven from the trials the waking world had presented her, and it was sometimes difficult to resist the allure of such a sanctuary even during the day. Here, she conversed with those who did not look upon her with fear or suspicion, and here she learned to manipulate the magic that ran deep in her soul.

Unimaginable horrors tore through the fade, silent stalkers within the darkness. They moved with striking speed and even more startling…silence. Although perhaps the strangest of all occurrences is that the Demons moved in time with the Darkspawn – just as organized if not more. Hundreds upon hundreds of Demons slid closer, all eager to take their part in the coming blood bath – some perhaps too eager. Flames flickered vividly upon a rather large Rage Demon’s form as it slid in behind an eccentric Demon of Lust, it was there they peered expectantly through the tear in the veil, upon a small village situated near the forest. They were to time things right, to do things perfectly – final orders like venom from their commander’s lips. There were to be only the Mages left kicking and screaming as the Darkspawn drug their wounded flailing forms away, their Commander to decide who was…fitting. All other souls were left to whomever reached them first – the Darkspawn would leave none to breath, while the Demons would surely find a most fitting and torturous death for the few remaining.

The sky was black as pitch, no shimmer of light reached through. The moon was well hidden beyond the veil of clouds above, as were the stars. The rain fell heavy upon Ferelden, never ceasing in barrage of liquid. It created a wall that no man would be able to see through, that was, not until it was too late. Perfection. It was the perfect night for those with murderous intentions – for those stricken with blood lust. It was the perfect night, for the fall of the Grey Warden’s land…

Razor claws reached through the small tear in the Veil, as each ripped their way from the prison within. Their cries were silent, as per the Commander’s order, their movement swift and unwavering. Through the veil they slid, filing into civilization and beyond – preparing to take what they will and dismember the rest. The first encounter came quickly, as the seductive creature crawled forth. Unfortunately, the poor man stood not the chance as he rest slumbering in the archway… his duties neglected and his armor dry. The creatures tail lashed about, slicing through the icy waters as her lips curled back into a feral smile – her nose crinkled slightly as she took in a long breath. Eyes, nothing more than slits focused on his rising and falling chest as he lay unaware, the faint thudding of his warm juicy heart could be heart… for those who care to listen. Her blackened tongue traced across the contours of her lips as she retracted her right arm back. ”Your heart will be mine, and only mine." was the soft and alluring whisper to follow. With unmatched force she drove her right hand through the soft and succulent layer of skin. The protective bones that held away his heart crushed beneath the blow. His eyes widened as his scream garbled from the sudden blow.

His heart beat was now erratic as she pressed further into his chest cavity allowing her ice cold finger-tips to grip the intended target. The creatures opposing hand reached up toward the man’s face as she gently caressed his warm flesh, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear – her lips nearly touching as she did so. With a final jerk she tore the warm organ from his body, watching as the final beats took place. Warm liquid crimson spilled from the central arteries, a warm rustic scent filling the air. Slowly she stood, allowing the warm liquid to spatter across the granite beneath her, before proceeding to indulge her more sensual side. The organ trailed across smooth and supple skin as she let out an unearthing cry, her eyes closed the liquid dribbled down her skin.

And now the Demon walks with the Darkspawn towards a flaming beacon in the woods. They can smell it, sense it. A Grey Warden, fatigued, with very few surrounding her. The pack surrounds the small encampment of Antius, Bruce and Asmara, waiting with sick predatory excitement to begin.

Antius spent most of the night thinking, as he was wont to do. He began the night remembering what he read in a book in the Circle's library, the ultimate Primal spell. Storm of the Century: it consisted of conjuring the Spirit spell, Spell Might, and casting Tempest and Blizzard, forming a Maestrom that destroyed everything in its path. The drawback, of course, was the mana required of the user. It had been known to kill if done incorrectly and one definitely needed lyrium potions to get back on his or her feet. Perhaps a magical artifact was the solution. One could infused say, a couple of mabari statues with lyrium and runes before imbueing it with the energy of the said spells. Preferably, it would be constructed by a team of at least five mages with lyrium nearby... But no, the Chantry would never approve of such research unless it went directly to them. And could he trust them to use such weapons of mass destruction without abuse? Perhaps a more benign artifact could be created. A healing sphere? Infuse a a glass or with beneficial energi-.

A shiver ran down Antius' spine and he started, looking around the trees. The chirping of the birds and insects, the howls of the wolves, and other sounds of wildlife he managed to tune out had disappeared. And that shiver. He felt something like it before, but when? It was as though an icicle had slid down his spine under his chin. He had felt it when... When he took his harrowing. Something roared and quickly, Antius spun behind him to see a Darkspawn running into their clearing. He thrust out his staff and a bolt of lightning struck it down. Quickly, he shook the Templar awake and then Asmara.

"Darkspawn! And I feel a demon somewhere!" he cried in panic.

The hours passed uneventfully. Raelnor had talked with Ser Sev a little bit more, and apologized for insinuating the elves were her servants. He did made it a point to mention it wasn’t illogical. After that he spent most of his time avoiding Blysse's attempts to be friendly. Her attempts to socialize with him so quickly after they had tried to kill each other unnerved him.

"Yes... well. A pleasure to meet you, Miss. Blysse. Since you will not aim at me, I shall return the favor and not try to stab you."

Raelnor's attempt at humor was pitiful. He wasn't very good with words. The rain had slowed, but not by much. Raelnor now sat against the side of the cave, still in his armor, and closed his eyes. The warm cider had made him consciously aware of how tired his body was and he sank into that calm state right before you fall asleep.

The noble’s promise to suggestion to accompany the Templar had caught Raelnor off guard. Not many were so egger to travel with a Templar, since they often hunted the dreaded Blood Mages, and Raelnor wondered just who these people were. Ser Sev had clearly neglected to answer his question. They were not a simple pack of travelers going to Lothering to renew supplies… It had taken some thought, but Raelnor eventually accepted their offer. He did owe them for not killing him, after all. As he relaxed, the Templar drifted off into the fade and fell asleep.

His dreams quickly turned to nightmares however, and his eyes open to the world once again. Staring out of the slits in his helmet he looked outside the cave entrance to see nothing but complete darkness. The rain had slowed significantly and was now a steady drizzle. Something wasn’t right, he could feel it in his bones. Raelnor pushed himself up quietly, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise incase the others were sleeping, and walked to the cave mouth, standing there while he gazed into the darkness of the forest. A bush moved and Raelnor swore he saw a figure in the darkness, but it was gone as soon as he had seen it. He reached for his sword and pulled it free of the sheath with the sound of metal scraping metal. The Templar stood there for a long while, staring out into the darkness but seeing no more movement. Had he imagined it? Perhaps he should just go back to sleep. They were leaving for Lothering in a few hours anyway.

Ryuu listened to the talks between the templar known as Raelnor, and Severia. Though within a few moments he was fast asleep Lenwë curled around him slightly Ryuu using the beast's ribcage as a pillow and Lenwë's shaggy head curled enough to rest his muzzle upon Ryuu's lap. His sleep was peaceful, odd enough for being a grey warden nightmares were a sure thing, but this night; nothing. He had learned to take sleep where he could get it, as an assassin things could go very wrong very quickly, and sometimes it went wrong while you slumbered. He didn't know if it was self taught to be such a light sleeper, or something he inherited genetically, either way the slumber came quick, and usually was gone just as quickly.

His eyes opened sharply and the dagger at his waist was in his right hand in the blink of an eye when he heard the drawing of a sword. Though soon enough he calmed himself, the templar wasn't attack; though staring out the mouth of the cave, this peaked his curiosity. huffing quietly as he pushed the giant hound's head off his lap and rose. He quietly made his way to the Templar's side and cleared his throat a few feet away to let the man know he was approaching, he didn't want to end up on the end of a sword just because he was naturally talented at stealth. "Did something catch your eye Ser Raelnor?" He asked in a steady voice, his own eyes now searching the heavy darkness outside of the cave. His ears twitching to ever soft sound of the forest, and some from the cave, like Lenwë's heavy breathing, That beast was almost as loud asleep as awake, Ryuu shook his head visibly; though he doubted it could be seen in the shadows near the cave-mouth, and returned his gaze to the forest beyond, wondering what had spooked the templar.

Jasper muttered several colorful oaths under his breath. Well, the torrential downpours at sea could and did get worse than this, but as he presently had no hope of shelter to retreat to, he was consigned to his sodden misery in the tree. The branch itself wasn't actually all that uncomfortable, though his rather extraordinary height for one of his species did make it a bit hard to negotiate.

Really, though, the rain wasn't the worst of it. He was willing to put it down to the fact that he was by now unused to land, but the pirate could not avoid admitting (at least to himself) that something about this night did not sit well with his instincts. He was no hound, certainly, but after you've been guarding your back from the sharp steel of blades all your life, you begin to pick up a sort of feel for these things, and something not the cold almost made him shiver.

Had he been a foolish man, he might have gone to investigate on his own, but perhaps luckily he had acquired a good deal of savvy in his time, and going into an unknown situation by yourself unless it was absolutely necessary was a sure way to wind up arse over apex and dead before you knew what hit you. Instead, golden eyes flickered warily to the mouth of the cave. If he weren't going crazy, he supposed that at least one of two of the people dry within would be gung-ho enough to make the attempt. Should such be the case, they would unknowingly be possessed of a protective shadow as well, for while he was not a fool, he was certainly inquisitive.