Ferelden

"I would have you know that flavor is an inescapable part of potion-making. It is how you know you made it precisely right. An Elfroot potion, for example, should taste sweet, not like sewage," Antius told Asmara indignantly, pretending to be offended though his smile gave him away. He rolled his eyes when she asked if he could chop and took a knife out of his pack, which he took off of Bree beforehand, to do just that.

He gave a friendly nod to Cash when the elf joined them. He was aching to ask him questions about Blysse's condition. Where did she contract lycanthropy? Had she always been able to do it? Did she have an aversion to silver? Unfortunately, he suspected that he would be rather defensive of his sister's condition, so the Mage concentrated on his chopping while pondering on how to pose his questions to either one of the siblings without offending them.

"I hope Arvin does catch something. I think we can all enjoy a good meal and meat can go a long way to livening a pot of stew. Besides, mabari need more protein than the average dog," he mused thoughtfully, glancing around for the dog but finding him gone, along with Ser Sev and Jasper. Hm, the two must have gone for a walk. Hopefully, they would be back in time for dinner.

*

Connall smiled in satisfaction when he at last came upon Blysse's wolf form. She was clearly a werewolf. She matched all the descriptions in the Shaman's tales of the Old Times and a light of intelligent shined in her eye. He nodded his head at her, "Greetings Cousin. I only want to talk. Can you turn back or do I have to wait?"

Just as he was talking, however, he heard a gruff and demanding voice. Quickly, he drew his sword and turned to face the one that dared sneak up behind him. It was a big creature, though it walked on two legs and was dressed in the manner of a man, elf, or dwarf. In response to his question, the barbarian answered warily, "I seek to settle a matter of honor with her. You need not involve yourself."

Arvin started to walk away from the group when the party had agreed to make camp. They were mostly in agreement for the mage to hunt something. Arvin dropped his pack in camp and began to shrink. Though he did not transform into his lynx form, instead the shifter began to sprout downy fur sprouted along his skin, then formed into down feathers. More feathers sprouted over these, and a beak formed and hardened. The piercing gaze of Arvin's falcon form scanned the area. Thankfully there was still daylight, the falcon's vision was best then. The adjustment to the massive amounts of detail that the falcon's eyes took in was almost staggering, but Arvin was ready for it. Despite being several yards away from the camp and now less than a foot tall, Arvin could see the fine details of the camp easily, as though he were standing right next to the party.

He turned away however, ready to hunt. The plan was to find something worth eating whilst scouting from the air. He would then retrieve whatever it was in a different form. Not very sporting, but Arvin didn't have the luxury of hunting in his favored form for something suitable enough to feed the party. the flapping of wings and rustling feathers were the last traces of the shifter mage. As he took off, however, he caught sight of two of the party leaving camp, along with Kujo. The falcon did not need to see the Mabari to know who was walking off, the falcon's eyes focused on the pair easily. He was curious, yes, but not nosy enough to fly nearby. With all of the rainstorms and planning for the ball going on, Arvin hadn't had time to just fly in what seemed like a long time. He soon was lost in the sensation of the wind through his feathers, but was dragged away from bliss by the falcon's hunter instincts.

A scant bit of movement drew his attention, what the falcon considered worth note was because it might have been a mouse or some other vermin that would sate his hunger, but instead he focused upon the trap set. Arvin at first thought considered them highwaymen. The falcon's eyesight was stupendous in picking out their forms. Though there was one unmoving figure, a very familiar dwarf Arvin remembered seeing at the ball. This was an ambush! Someone had to warn the others. Severia and Jasper were heading straight for the group! Despite having Kujo with them, Arvin figured they were most in need. The falcon descended, and let out a loud shriek. Hopefully Severia would recognize his call. Whether she did or not though, Arvin had to pick his target well. A man that was obviously a mage would be the most likely target, being able to deal the most damage from a long range, Arvin gained his altitude and readied himself for a dive. Jasper, Severia and Kujo would have to deal with the dwarf and qun'ari, at least until he was finished dealing with the mage. Arvin hoped that the rest of the party was near enough to be drawn by the sound of battle.

Bruce turned his head. At first it had been hard to realize who, or what, had spoken to him however he recognized which side it came from and turned to look at the speaker. Oh Maker…Another one of those sub-human creatures.
Bruce turned his head and let out a low sneer at Ryuu but his religious side kicked in sooner than what he would have desired and before he knew it he was staring Ryuu in the eyes. Bruce was drunk, without a doubt, and he was at the point where he could faint from a single sip of wine. “Me, being carried, by a sub humanoid creature as yourself…Are you mental, or have you forgotten why we humans created the alienage?”

Bruce was looking at Ryuu. Drunk but dead on serious, “You elves are nothing better than animal crap. Honestly, you are pathetic, and what do you do? You eves jump over on the other side of the law,” Bruce couldn’t control his voice and by now his voice was loud, as usual, and yelling. “You have any idea what I lost because of you elves?” Bruce asked and then he got up on his feet, though he seemed more like he could collapse any minute, “You elves stripped me of everything! Blood honor, bloody dreams, and my home was lost because of your kind! You all deserve to die! An Exalted March should be commenced upon the elves again. You are a disease. A pest. Vermin of society!”

Bruce was loosing himself, he was yelling loud enough for everyone to hear him, and he turned around and walked towards the camp but he stopped, turned and threw the bottle after Ryuu. His aim was off and it went off into the forest where it smashed against a tree. “How would you feel if you saw everything you loved being taken away by elves?!” Bruce cried, tears forming at the corners of his eyes and his voice began to crack.
“I lost everything. EVERYTHING! Because of your kind. Do you expect me to forget the people I loved? The pain I had to endure and the sacrifices I had to make in order to be accepted amongst the Templars. Who else would take me in? Who else!? You…You’re all abominations!”

Tears were running down Bruce’s cheek and his voice was cracking every now and then. He didn’t care, quite honestly, he had lost his dignity and now he would rather throw it all out than think about the future. “Elves…You are about as bad as the Darkspawns. Only difference is that you elves spend years to plan your attacks before you backstab us humans…You ungrateful wretched.
You burned down my village, my killed my father, you killed my idol, you killed everyone I ever cared about. An now you are trying to find my trust…You want to lay your blood soaked hands on me. Ser Gunthar was right when he said ‘Elves are never to be trusted. They are all the same. Show them no mercy and expect none in return.’ I’m telling you right now…You, elves, are nothing but pain and suffering. Go to hell!”

Bruce spat in disgust on the ground and then turned to leave the camp. He didn’t care if he left his bag pack amongst them. He walked out amongst the tress, not able to see straight or even walk straight for that matter. Only a few paces after he had left the camp he stopped looked down and felt acid running up his throat and out of his throat. Soon after that had left him he found himself staring into the ground, it felt as it gravity was pressing against him as he laid there on the floor of the forest.

Ryuu held back his anger for most of the outburst from the man; the talk of how his race were only sub-humanoid; that they were nothing. Ryuu normally would have killed any man thinking they had the gall to speak like that, but no; not here. He had taken enough life so far, he had killed hundreds of humans, sometimes not even as an assassination missions. He bit his lip until it bled to keep his anger from exploding; and once the male was done with his outburst and turned to go off. He followed; quietly, and once he was on the ground Ryuu knelt down beside him. "You know Bruce; if you weren't totally drunk I'd have beaten you senseless. You think you've had it bad; get over it mate.." He said calmly, his eyes locked upon the form of the templar. "My earliest memories are of being a slave to shems..I don't remember anything of my parents or of my clan. All I remember is being a toy for two human men for most of my childhood" He stated coldly spitting to the side. "So When the crows bought me and began to train me; I did what any person would have done I vented my anger on every...human I came across I've killed men, and women in cold blood without warning or aggression. I've killed more human's then you chantry boys can ever possibly believe, and I don't regret it at all." He admitted plainly, he had no regrets about it; back then he felt that they deserved it.

He sighed alittle. "I regret it now, and as such I'm a warden now; You will respect me as a warden templar; and you will treat us all with the respect we deserve, you are nothing amongst this party Bruce, just another sword here; remember that, cause your not a templar here. Just a drunken fool." He stood up looking down at Bruce. He then looked back towards where the camp was. "Once your sober and can think clearly, I'll be expecting an apology templar..." He wasn't going to stay here, or help this man, not only did he insult his race; but he was lucky Ryuu did just end him there. He strode back towards the camp; he still had to put up his own tent. He walked over to Lenwe; pulling the saddle off the warg, and digging through the packs to get the stuff for his tent. He moved off to the side, setting his tent up farther away from the rest of the group setting it up quickly. Once he finished this he threw his things into the tent and he himself climbed in, sitting there; in the middle of his tent as he would just spend the time they had left here in camp to meditate and maybe try his best to relax. He needed to find his center again, cause at this moment if there happened to be a fight; he wouldn't know if he'd be able to steer himself away from just killing everything; then again if it was darkspawn; he was sure it wouldn't matter but still; he needed his center, he would be utterly worthless in a fight if he wasn't.

Asmara Surana

Dinner preparation was well underway, and Asmara was pleased. Cash really was talented, she decided; moreso than she, anyway. She'd since ground the rosemary appropriately and added it to the other assorted seasonings and spices they had available, humming a merry little tune to herself as she went. That was something she never noticed about herself, but was always readily apparent to others: Asmara was almost always humming, but never singing. It was hard to tell if her songs even had words to them or not, really.

She noted a conflict taking place on the other side of camp, and frowned worriedly when she realized that it was Ser Le-Guy and her fellow Warden Ryuu. She caught a few of the exchanged words and chewed her lower lip; what had happened to Ser Le-Guy's family? His mentor, he said? It sounded so very awful, even as vague as the details were. It wasn't long before the Templar left, Ryuu following only to return a few minutes later, looking angry, but in control of it.

Oh dear. "I'll be back soon," she promised Antius and Cash with an apologetic smile. "Not that you need me or anything; this will be absolutely delicious anyway, I'm sure." Without giving anyone a hint as to what she was doing, she made her way over to where Bruce had been sitting, noting the mostly-gone bottle of liquor with apprehension. Didn't people get sick from having too much of that at once? Asmara had never tried, so she was unsure. Still, there was a chance that Ser Le-Guy was indeed sick, and therefore it was her responsibility to find him and make sure he was okay.

The words she had caught earlier rang unpleasantly inside her head, but she dismissed them. Something very bad had obviously happened to her Templar friend in the past, and she of all people knew what it was like to see the culprits of an old injustice everywhere you looked. The irony of that was completely lost on Asmara, though, and she didn't even bother to consider how strange it was that she was going out of her way to help a Templar.

She found him prone on the forest floor, and hesitated. She was both of the two things he professed to dislike the most, and that worried her. But... she was also a Healer before she was anything else, and a Warden just after that. She crept closer, kneeling beside him and speaking softly. "Ser Le-Guy? Umm... I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but... you don't look so well, and... I'm going to cast a regeneration spell on you right now." She was careful not to ask permission, because he might very well refuse, and she would feel obligated to act in accordance with that.

Instead, she let her hand hover a ways away from his back, casting regeneration, a spell that would gradually remove whatever ailed him, and sitting back on her legs. Now she was going to give him a choice about something. "I can... help you back to camp, now, or I can leave. Whichever you would prefer..." She really hoped he wasn't mad at her, but the chances of that were pretty slim at the moment.

Tiaryn Ormet

Tiaryn was actually a bit surprised when Zephora answered her, but she understood the question well enough. She dug through her rather small repository of phrases, trying to figure out how to answer the question. If that word meant...

"Amhain beagan," she replied with a small shake of her head. Only a little. Trying to think of something else to say, she continued haltingly. "Ainm...Tiaryn." It was an awkward sentence, but she was certain she got the point across. "Zephora, ar bith?" She technically knew the answer to that one, anyway, but it never hurt to be sure.

Tiaryn managed something rather unusual for her- a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The language barrier wasn't so bad; she might actually be expected to make less conversation this way, and she had to admit there was a certain satisfaction in finally figuring out how to communicate what truncated sentence fragments she was trying to convey.

She was momentarily distracted by the Templar yelling some distance behind her, and her eyebrows furrowed at the content of the outburst; she disliked it when people hated Ryuu for nothing more than his race. Still, he was more than capable of taking care of himself; it would be an insult to him should she move to interfere, which was fine by her as she'd rather not at present. She shook her head, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated motion. That could most certainly be understood without words.

Zephora watched with interest as the woman before her wracked her brain for information. The words emerged quickly, for someone who appeared to have little knowledge of the language, and were lacking in certain accents or emphasis a native speaker might use; but, regardless, Zephora understood the woman. A small smile arched the Chasind's lips as she grinned at the woman, partially excited. Up until this point in time, Zephora had only really spent time with Blysse, communicating with her through any means the two could use. Meeting someone, even an individual who only spoke a little, was a great opportunity for Zephora.

When Tiaryn introduced herself, Zephora bowed her head, "Tha mi toilichte do choinneachadh.". A pleasure to meet you. Zephora again bowed her head in affirmation, confirming that her name was indeed Zephora. She fell into silence, pondering what else she may be able to speak with the woman about. Surprisingly, Zephora could think of very little; strange, considering her excitement about finding someone she could formally communicate with.

It was then that yelling broke out across camp. Zephora's eyes locked on to the commotion as Tiaryn's did; she, however, felt no particular way about it. She had no connection to those yelling and, seeing as she couldn't understand what was being said, found it almost confusing. What reason did these individuals have for fighting in such a way? Had they not been traveling together? Should they not be allies as opposed to at one another's throats? She observed Tiaryn, finding her tense and then... the woman rolled her eyes, her face contorted into an expression of annoyance and partial disbelief -- Zephora replied with a small laugh and a nod. "Far an taine 'n abhainn, 's ann as mò a fuaim." Zephora quoted with a small grin -- where the stream is shallowest, greatest is its noise. She meant to indicate that the Templar was obviously unthinking in his actions, he definitely sounded like he had more than his share of wine, but with Tiaryn's limited understanding Zephora acknowledged that the woman may not understand the proverb.

She looked for something else to say, then she remembered seeing Tiaryn and the tall elf together at the ball. "Am fear shin..." she raised a pointed finger at Ryuu, "A bheil fhios agad?" That one... do you know him? She raised an eyebrow in curiosity as the elf made up his tent and disappeared within its cloth walls -- whatever the drunken man had been yelling seemed to have deeply affected the elf in some way, though she could hardly think of what it may have been.

Bruce didn’t listen to what Ryuu said. He was at the brink of fainting, passing to and from consciousness so his hearing came and went, however, whatever he heard he didn’t pay much attention to. Time wasn’t a factor for him either; too drunk to care, time merged together and seemed to pass by like the wind. Has an hour passed? A month? A second? Why bother now? Bruce thought, having to regain his trail of thought after every question in order to remember what he was talking about.

Bruce’s drunkenness seemed to…Fade? He didn’t know what it was that had done it but it was making him think straighter, see straighter, and he could actually control what he was doing and saying. He got up slowly as the alcoholic affect hadn’t seized to exist, yet, and looked at Asmara and sighed deeply. “I suppose that I lost it,” Bruce said blankly and sighed again, heavily.
“I’ll be honest…I meant everything that I said,” Bruce confessed, though he didn’t seem ashamed by it, more…Annoyed that it had to be explained. “When…When I was a boy, I lived in a farming community, pretty far from civilization, so we were left to tend to ourselves for the majority of the time,” he explained while he slowly got up.
“We were, apparently, rather close to a migrating group of Elves that lived in the woods and well…We got along fine, no fighting or anything, and our Chantry leader, Ser Daniel, made sure that the two of us got along fine and whenever there was a problem it was him to dealt with it. It went fine till-” Bruce swallowed a chunk of spit before he continued-“I…One day, my best friend was taken away from me. She was so beautiful and I truly did love her, but she was a mage and the Templars came and took her.
When I looked for Ser Daniel he was nowhere to be found and I talked to another, Ser John who explained to me that Mages were evil by nature, that they wished to see everyone and everything destroyed. Maybe not now, but later, when they were older. I was so scarred and…Confused that I. I think I was close to killing myself to have shown sympathy for such a being, I would have drowned myself if my father wouldn’t have stopped me. Oh…How he hit me for being so idiotic.
Anyways-” another heavy sigh as Bruce walked back to the camp-“After a while I got a better, sort of, and went to play in the woods…I saw Ser Daniel in a groove with an elven woman…Kissing.”

Bruce forced his lips together so he wouldn’t start to sob before he continued his story, “I can’t describe how much that man meant to me. He was my idol. THE man I wished to become in my future, but when I saw how he just stood there and kissed an elf…I was disillusioned and I ran.
I told my dad, and he told Ser John, and when Ser Daniel came back…He was greeted by pitchforks and fire. Arrested by his own people, and only three days later more Templars, like Ser John, came and they burned him alive, right in front of us and told us that we had done something good by turning ‘this traitor over’. So they said before they told us to prepare for battle against the Elves.”
Bruce stopped. He needed to breathe, to calm himself before he continued. The edge of the camp was near but he didn’t feel ready to enter yet, not until he looked at Asmara and continued.

“Every man and woman who could fight joined the Templars. They left and never came back. That meant my father too, but it didn’t end there, oh no…It didn’t stop there. The Elves, who wanted revenge,” Bruce almost spat the word out, “Came to my village with fire, arrows and sorcery. Slaughtered the rest of us, old, children, women, even the animals were killed…I and five others survived as our mothers threw us down to the pigs’ food where we were hiding till the screaming had stopped and till we couldn’t hear the elves anymore.”

They were now inside the camp where Bruce finished off his story. “I ran…Never looked back. I never looked for my mother. I went to the Chantry, they took me in and before I knew it I was being trained as a Templar by Ser Gunthar, I told him everything that I had lived through and he told me that what Ser John had done and said was true, he told me that I had seen what would happen if mages weren’t taken away from society, and what would happen if the elves weren’t kept in the Alienage. Over and over again, he stressed the fact that neither were to be trusted and those who were both were living abominations, yet…” Bruce trailed off and looked at Asmara. “You are not an apostate. You are a chantry believer, and you do not practice evil magic. You are a living beacon of hope that there exists good in this world and that what we true Templars are doing is for the better. Elven mages can be educated to use their magic for the better and still follow the Chant.”

Bruce had put a strange emphasis on the word, ‘true’. What did he mean? Was there such a thing as false Templars? Were they like Ser Daniel, whose crimes were almost nothing. Or was it something greater and much more…Dangerous than mere Templar fanatics? Whatever it was, Asmara seemed to have caught a very strong form of respect from Bruce.

Orik spotted two figures at a distance. He identified immediately as Ser Severia and Jasper. His mouth twisted in a combination of disgust and disappointment. He turned to the mage and through him, spoke to all his men. He did not pretend to understand the magic of it, but it was convenient.

"Wait 'ere. I'm gonna go talk ta those two. Maybe we can end this peacefully. If I strike the butt of me polearm in ta the ground twice, attack. Kill 'em all."

With a face grim as an executioner, he spurred Ironhide into a trot and rode the large bronto until he was about ten or twelve away from Ser severia and the human pirate. They watched him warily, and the man fingered his weapon, despite the fact there was no way he could take a dwarf on brontoback. Orik's glare stopped him, and would have turned him to stone if Orik had been a certain mythological creature.

"Ser Severia Cousland. Knight errant. You lied ta me. The problem wit that is that I'm very good at sniffing out lies, and I did na catch that one. Teryn Loghaine is dead. 'Is 'ouse is in ruins from the fire. Och, I can tell by the look on your face that the fire is news ta you. Interesting. Who...Ach, but I digress. Will you go back quietly? I can na 'ave a price on my 'ead in the Stone and above as well. The only way ta prevent that is fer me ta bring you back wit me.

His glare had softened, and now he looked disturbed again. He still did not feel right doing this...And he knew some of the guards felt the same. They had all heard the stories of the Teyrn's cruelty. And this woman, and her companions had killed him. Shame that he had to bring them in.

He unconsciously gripped his ashanderei tighter and prepared to drive it into the ground. He would not let this be the place where he fell.

Antius listened to Asmara's humming as he stirred the the pot that contained the stew that was going to serve as their dinner that night. It was faint, ethereal even, but so beautiful. It reminded him of the hieroglyphs he studied whenever he was fortunate enough to find an elven ruin. Precious, so old, so fragile, yet so powerful. She must have quite a singing voice. He'd have to ask her about it at a later date. He breathed in the aroma of their meal, smiling slightly. It smelled rather good if he could say so himself. Both Asmara and Cash were good cooks. He frowned, however, at the sound of Bruce's yelling.

"The man needs to stop drinking," the mage muttered to himself. He knew that there were some people predisposed to become alcoholics and Bruce seemed to be one of those people. It would be good for the man if he was kept far away from any alcoholic beverages whatsoever. His eyes widened as Asmara announced that she was going to see what was going on. Antius cursed inwardly. He caught part of the man's rant and, while he knew that Bruce didn't mean Asmara any ill will, he was still concerned for his friend's safety. He glanced at Cash and muttered, "I'll go after her. Just incase."

With that said, he trailed behind the elven mage and was able to hear most of what the man told Asmara after she rejuvenated him. His tense body relaxed a bit. He wasn't going to attack her when he was sober. He released an cold spell that he didn't even know he was beginning to form. Instead, he listened to the man's story with a sorrowful expression. It was unfortunate. A murderous act of racism leading to the decimation of an entire village.

He bowed his head at the Templar as he approached him and Asmara, "I am sorry for your loss, Ser Bruce. And the blame for what happened does not rest on you, no matter what you told yourself as a child. But your village's actions... Led to the Dalish's vengeance, right or wrong as it was. You should let go of the past. Dismiss it or you'll get like this whenever you drink."

Asmara Surana

Asmara walked beside Ser Bruce, treading with careful steps just in case he should prove unsteady. Exactly how she thought she'd be able to do much about that was rather inconsequential; once she'd set herself on a given course, she did everything possible to see it through, the physical impossibility of her lackluster musculature preventing him from falling aside.

Luckily, it wasn't necessary, and instead she listened to his story in silence, contemplating the intricacies of the forest floor as it passed beneath her feet. The story he was telling was simply awful, and in so many ways- misunderstandings from the beginning bred hatred, and that hatred could do nothing but bring about more of the same until it devoured lives. Asmara wasn't sure if she had ever felt hate or not, but she liked to think she would have recognized it if she had. It seemed... so very poisonous.

She was torn when he spoke of her, unable to decide if his proclamation that she was not an apostate was his belief of what had always been the case or what was now. She supposed he assumed that she had been brought up in the Circle, and she was loath to let him keep believing a lie. By most definitions, she had indeed spent the majority of her life as such a person, though with her joining, that status had ceased to be. She did truly draw strength from the Chant of Light; one of her teachers had formerly been a Chantry priest, and was fond of reminding her of this at frequent intervals. She knew the whole thing by heart. Did that mean she believed? She supposed so.

She was blinking back warm moisture from her eyes by the time everything was told, and words were poised on the tip of her tongue. She would tell him- hatred took mine from me, too- but she couldn't quite spit it out. Now was not the time to say any of these things, she supposed. While she did not wish him to carry false impression of who she was, and while she dearly wished to show him that she understood even a little of what he was going through, they would have to wait; stressing her friend further was not the way to help right now.

Antius spoke then, and the silence into which she might have poured words anyway was gone. Flashing him a grateful look- though now was hardly the time to be chiding Ser Bruce in any way, it was better than what might have happened if she'd said anything- she nodded uncomfortably. "I... cannot apologize, for the deed is not mine to ask forgiveness for, but..." she trailed off. Anything she might say here would be inadequate, but she had to say something. "Please... accept my condolences, whatever they might be worth to you." Inclining her head, Asmara looked to Antius and smiled thinly, walking back towards where they'd left poor Cash by himself with the food.

"Sorry about that," she told him, picking right back up where she'd left off.

Tiaryn Ormet

Tiaryn only caught something about 'shallow' and 'noise', but it was somewhat evident from Zephora's tone that she was making a dry comment of some sort. Pity the Antivan could not understand more- she had a feeling their senses of humor (rare as hers might be, it did exist) would dovetail quite nicely. Instead, she shrugged to indicate her non-comprehension.

Zephora seemed to be casting about for something to discuss, not that Tiaryn could blame her. Even someone as quiet as she was could appreciate how difficult it must be to have absolutely nobody to speak with, especially seeing as how the only person who'd had time to try was not currently present. She pointed at something, and the Crow followed the line of the other woman's arm to see Ryuu disappearing into his tent. The question, she mostly understood, and she nodded in reply.

"Ryuu," she offered, "Mo cara," my friend. It was almost funny to describe her fellow Crow in such simple terms, but it was... interesting also. If she had to pick a single word to describe what he was, friend was most certainly it. It was almost cathartic to realize it in such pristine terms.

She realized something else, then, and chanced another tentative question. "Fhios ainmneacha?" Do you know names? It seemed unlikely that everyone had introduced themselves, but it might be a good basic piece of information for Zephora to have. "Asmara, Cash, Antius, Bruce," she commented, pointing out each visible individual in turn.

Antius couldn't help but smile slightly as they returned to the dinner they were making. Maybe some food would help cheer Bruce up. Yes, he found that Templars were always amazingly less grouchy once they had a good meal.

"No need to apologize. You're the healer, it's your job to make sure we're all feeling alright. Besides, it was rather brave of you to approach him in the state he was in," he told her truthfully. Hmm, the stew was about done. He stirred it up a bit and offered Asmara a bite from the ladle. Inwardly, though, he reflected upon Bruce's story. It was so sad, and yet, it was an all-too-common story throughout Thedas. He had read somewhere that war and hatred were birthed from ignorance, and it looked like it was all too true. Why did people have such problems with elves, anyway? They weren't that different than humans the remains of their culture was alien, but beautiful. At least he understood why people were afraid of Mages. The Chantry gave them plenty of reasons for that, but elves didn't have huge armies like the human kingdoms.

"I really hope Bruce changes his mind about... Elves and Mages. He's a decent man, for a Templar," he mused.

When Tiaryn mentioned Ryuu's name, the Chasind mulled over the sounds aloud. She nodded when Tiaryn indicated that they were friends and Zephora assumed that she had been correct in thinking that they shared a common history. The woman she spoke with always seemed so content to sit alone, Zephora believed that one must have known her for quite a while before the Crow would consider that person a friend. Tiaryn then asked if she knew the names of the party and, thinking back, Zephora realized that her extent of knowledge when it came to the party she was currently traveling with was... next to nonexistent. She knew Blysse and Cash, seeing as the two were related, and Ser Sev -- though only by name. She shook her head, "Chan eil..." No.

As Tiaryn introduced each individual in camp, Zephora repeated their names. Amara and Antius were both new to her and she said each of their names numerous time, mostly under her breath, as she attempted to tie each name to a face. She remembered Cash, nodding as Tiaryn spoke his name, and crinkled her nose. Cash was... he was short with the Chasind woman. Though she did not quite understand why he was so cold to her, she didn't make a big deal out of it -- he meant so very much to Blysse and Zephora would not wish to ruin their friendship because Cash decided to hold an unwarranted (from Zephora's perspective) grudge. Tiaryn then pointed out Bruce and Zephora's head tilted slightly to the side. "Bruce... Cum do shùil air..." she spoke softly, Keep your eyes on him, and then snorted in laughter. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Cha toigh leam an duine." I don't like that man.

Bruce was loud, obnoxious, and a drunk. He reminded her of the old man back from her old village: he had lost his family and, from that point on, took his anger out on every living being that crossed his path, but not without the help of a completely intoxicated state. He seemed to be defiant and was much more comfortable glaring at the rest of the party from the edge of camp than interacting with anyone; though, when he did interact with others, he always seemed to find a way to ruin their good mood. Zephora shook her head again, certain that something was obviously ailing the Templar that caused him to behave in such a way, but cared little for his excuses.

Jasper's comment was accepted in a mixed manner to say the least. "...I..." what would make it justice though? Should it have been her choice to end Valen? Perhaps Blodwyn, Blysse, a court, anyone else had the right to. Although Valen has been her rival since childhood. The rogue speaks again which irons out the surmounting absence of words on Severeia's behalf. She briefly wonders about his eyepatch once more. Would it have something to do with battle or was it deeper? Perhaps she will have to ask him later or relish in the mystique for the duration the rogue is offering his services.

Still what he says brings a gentle reassurance. "For what little it might be worth, I do not believe you are such a soul." Severia considered this before they had came to the dwarf. "It is of great worth just to hear it. I thank you nonetheless." she will still need to pick at something else to completely turn away this anxiety she feels over the battle. Perhaps in the next town they come to she could seek out the Chantry, or at some point question Bruce on the matter. Faith has always and will remain to be a chapter in her life.

Severia frowned slightly. Orik isn't alone? She sees no one...then again she is but a warrior and her perception is poor for this situation. With a sharp whistle she coaxed Kujo to turn tail and trot back to her. The mabari's hackles remain up as his pointed ears swivel back along his scalp in defense. He is not pleased with the scents of all the people around them nor the intrusive behemoth the dwarf rides upon. When the bronto moves closer Kujo falls silent as he hones in on the considerably larger creature. Still bristled he stands between the bronto, his Lady and the seadog. He wrinkles his charred lips to show his fangs. He will not let it get past him, not for the world if he could help it.

The lady knight patiently listens to the accusation. It is only partially true. "I did not lie to you, Ser Orik. It was not my intention to see Loghain hurt let alone killed. He was close to my family as well as myself. I do however take some of the responsibility. There was talk of such scheme in my party and I did not act upon it to keep it from happening." Ryuu. She cannot let Orik know it was Ryuu, she cannot let the ex-Crow be clapped in irons, wings bound. Perhaps the dwarf will listen, perhaps not. An avian cry has her glancing up to the irked bird of prey overhead. Severia frowns and make a short motion with her hand. Arvin! Don't you dare...

Now she looks to Orik once more. "He wronged Ferelden by letting our good king die while he fled, unscathed with his troop. Furthermore he pinned this on the Grey Wardens. Including myself. I will not allow someone to cast slander behind my back. Things could have gone differently, yet they always could. Now Loghain is dead." she sighs somewhat and pinches the bridge of her nose. Severia has no idea what to think of Orik. She cannot trust him yet she cannot dismiss him either.

"I have an offer for you. This can go one of three ways. Either Kujo sounds the alarm and my fellow Grey Wardens and party members come to our aid and we both lose bodies in battle, or you take me for judgement but must leave the others alone. Or you may join us in larger matters than assassination. You can join us, Orik, to protect Ferelden and all of Thedas against the Blight."

Three options but only once can be chosen. Severia isn't certain which Orik will decide upon but knows he may or may not have questions. Hopefully Jasper won't get caught in any crossfire nor the drifting Arvin overhead. Really the battle would be welcome as it usually is. And if Orik decided to arrest Sev, then she'd have an easy time getting out with the support of fellow nobility in time to return to the group. "The choice is yours."

~~~

He remained silent the entire time Asmara and Antius picked at one another so playfully. It's odd to him how she can be so comfortable around a shem. Then again he must remind himself she did not have a traditional Dalish upbringing. Did that make her better off? Only if she could trust the shemlen. Cash kept his eyes lowered as he worked at the pot whenever the other two failed to do so. There was no sign of Arvin returning anytime soon so he decided to keep the mixture light yet filling. Something to help the group sleep easy but not make them sluggish in the morning. Surely the carnivores in the group could find their meat themselves. He stares at the edge of the forest, noticing Dareth over by that shem woman Blysse seemed so fond of. His sister must be feeling more at ease if she's within the area.

Someone said his name. Cash's head turns sharply back to that same corner. The two women, Zephora and Tiaryn...are speaking that thick tongue. He purses his lips at them tightly in thought before Asmara suddenly returned. Cash simply nodded and decided to say nothing on behalf of Bruce's outbursts. Ryuu had not seemed pleased at all. "...excuse me, I'm going to see if anyone would like to try a sip of the broth." it was a sagely, sweet broth they all had brewed together. The young Dalish exhales in a shuddering breath before taking up the ladle and a small bowl with a few cups. With the small bowl filled he first made his way towards Dareth. This is also a tactic to eye Zephora and Tiaryn up close. Somewhat like a small bird fluffing its feathers.

He fills a cup for Dareth in which the halla ceases attempting to groom Dubhradh to lower his snout and lap at the broth. Cash smiles at the halla, so grateful to see the snowy stag before turning towards Zephora. He studies her shrewdly. Why does Blysse care to be so friendly? It's not as if Zephora could understand the common language. Lips sealed in a tight line he pours more broth into two cups, kneeling and offering the cups to both Zephora and Tiaryn. He looks at Zephora to speak, hoping Tiaryn may translate. "...I do not enjoy your company, shem. Yet my sister does. She must smell something on you that I cannot. I do not enjoy your company but I enjoy Blysse being happy. It pleases me you have remained with us." maybe he can get along with Zephora at some point, but it is too early to tell.

He gathered the final two cups and stood up, walking off to Ryuu's tent. "...Ryuu, I'd like for you to try this. I can't rely on asking any of the shems since they have poor taste. Can't ask Blysse, since she's still hiding...and Asmara is so nice, she'd ask a skunk what perfume it wears." after announcing himself he ducks down before crawling into the tent. Cash sits across from the vexed Ryuu and pours him a cup before pouring himself one. He takes a few sips after blowing over it gently. After a few more sips he reaches over, tugging off one of Ryuu's boots. Cash's firm but gentle hands then begin to rub the dark haired elf's foot, thumbs crossing along the arch. "Don't let that idiot shem vex you."

~~~

Her eyes blaze against the barbarian's face. What is he saying? Talk? That was really the only word she caught. Blysse remains bristled but ceases her snarling for the time being. Her tail flags the air as she tenses and regards Connall without warmth. There is nothing but fear and uncertainty highlighting her features. For a moment she lifts her paw appraisingly to sniff in the man's direction. Until a large man-thing enters the scene. Her jaws snap open and she bunches up her scruff all over again. That...what...what is that?! It's gargantuan! It'll eat her in two bites! The more primal, animal side of her mind inflames with alarm and fret.

She runs as fast as her limbs will allow it. Debris and leaves kick up in a roostertail behind the frenzied she-wolf as her musky terror clings in her wake. Blysse balloons in size to once more become a goliath beast. Her body is desperately trying to protect itself from impending doom. That man-thing was terrifying. Anything new is genuinely frightening to any animal and Blysse has yet to maintain security over that half of her instincts as a werewolf. The perturbed lupine plows into the campsite at the edge. Whites of her glowing eyes visible she seems thrice her size due to the volume of her fluffed fur. In making itself look larger than it is her muscular, feral body will feel better and calm down sooner.

In this state she is also convinced that those in the party are in danger. Blysse comes out near where Asmara and Antius are cooking. Thick claws lashing out she grabs them swiftly, snatching them against her abdomen with one arm before hobbling towards Tiaryn and Zephora. Not too long ago she was meekly on the outskirts of camp, terrified that she was now grotesque to everyone as she had been in her clan. It was another reason she had to leave. They stopped loving her and were rightfully afraid. She is a disgusting beast. Now though with her more intellectual half closed down for her instincts to take over for survival, Blysse's only concern is clumping her makeshift pack together to protect them.

She squats down near Zephora and Tiaryn before looping her free arm around them and forcing them into a hug against Asmara and Antirus. Blysse's full ear is stiff, swivelling to listen, to be alert of her surroundings. She has not yet detected Cash, Ryuu, Severia, Jasper, Arvin nor Bruce. Her pack is not whole and that man-thing is out there somewhere. What if it has already harmed them? The distraught werewolf utters a series of sharp, distressed barks. No sound returns to her. Turning her head she uses her jaws to catch Dareth's antlers and forces the halla closer. The docile stag bleats softly and buckles his knees to lay down near the hapless bunch. He has been through this before and knows it is better to humor an upset predator. Blysse stares out at the camp, adjusting the four in her arms to allow them to be more comfortable, dipping her snout to lick their heads as though comforting pups. Once she lifts her muzzle again she begins to chuff. Where are the others? They must come to her quickly, man-thing is on the loose!

Jasper Bryland

The small smile that tugged at his lips upon Severia's half-certain thanks disappeared as the situation with the dwarf grew tenser. Jasper avoided his own input, knowing that the bronto-borne hireling disliked him already, and thus that anything he said, however logical or true, would probably be counterproductive. He needed to have a serious chat with Ser Sev about how to issue ultimatums, though; as far as he could tell, she was horrible at them. Offering herself as collateral, while likely not problematic in the long run if her family was as well-connected as he remembered, would be more of a hindrance than the group could afford to deal with right now, especially with no clear, universally-respected secondary leader.

Ryuu was probably the most likely option, but Jasper knew well enough that his race alone would prove problematic. He personally couldn't really care less, but it was best to have unquestioned leadership in situations like this. Sighing inwardly, he simply hoped the dwarf would realize that of all the options, that one was least likely to get him anywhere useful. A fight he would relish, and diplomacy he would prefer, but it was in his nature to prepare himself for anything.

Having had the time to pinpoint the locations of several other individuals, he was only further reassured when Arvin's raptor-shriek seared the air, and knew the form-shifting magi could probably see just about everything. One by one, Jasper picked out all the individuals that could see him and fixed them with a stare just long enough that they would know he had done it deliberately, grinning as though nothing whatsoever were amiss. There were others, probably; too far away from him to detect, but the point had been made.

Now all that remained was to see how how the other pieces upon the board would choose to move.

Tal’Vashoth

The Qunari was hardly impressed with the answer he had received, though it did confirm, perhaps, that the wolf was not all as it seemed.

Not that it needed to, mind. The creature did that much more adroitly herself, fleeing the area at the sight of him. Ordinary forest animals did no such thing, which meant there was a non-animal mind behind that form. The half-transformation that the wolf underwent on her way out of the clearing was particularly enlightening. Werebeast.

The Qunari knew not of such things; none on Par Vollen had ever contracted such a condition. But Tal'Vashoth knew many things that Qunari did not. He also knew that there were other humanoid beings in his forest besides the two he had just encountered. Without another word to the human man in furs, Tal'Vashoth strode after the wolf-creature, emerging from the treeline to see a rather unusual sight- did Fereldens often engage in this sort of behavior? It seemed like very close contact for anything else he had observed...

He stopped in his tracks, though, when he caught a whiff of a very familiar, very distinct smell. Narrowing his eyes, Tal scanned the group and spotted an equally-familiar head of blond hair, crowning a small form. Everyone was small to him, of course, but he knew this one. "...Kadan?" The word was slow to leave him, and for a moment he was certain he must be mistaken. He had last seen Kadan perhaps a year ago, and she had been at the same place he always found her. Not here, not in this forest, and certainly not with these people.

[The small amount of God-moding here of Tal has been discussed with Machina and agreed upon. ^_^]

Asmara Surana

"Brave? You think so? I never thought of it as dangerous..." She dipped a finger into the proffered ladle, figuring that was probably more hygienic and not really sure how the others in camp would feel about such things. Smiling, she nodded to Antius. "It tastes really nice." She turned to Cash, to get his opinion, but found that he was already off delivering bowls, and smiled to herself.

Ladling out a few more bowls worth, she handed one to Antius, setting one aside for herself, and intent on perhaps finding Arvin, Ser Sev, or Jasper, but all thoughts of this soon fled when she found herself quite abruptly swept up by a large arm that she realized after a moment belonged to Blysse. "Blysse? Blysse, what's wrong?" It soon became evident that something had scared her, and she was apparently trying to gather everyone together for some reason. "Atisha," the healer murmured quietly, not really knowing how to phrase what she wanted to say much better than that. "Dareth, atisha."

She was presently pressed against the others in the group, and while she didn't mind as such, it was clear that this was a very uncomfortable situation for some, and she needed to do whatever she could to calm it. How this was going to happen, exactly, she was unsure, but she kept whispering low, holding onto Blysse's forearm with steady hands.

"Kadan?" the word rumbled from somewhere behind her, and Asmara's eyes went wide with a mixture of shock and then pure joy. A radiant smile spread across her face, and she gently wormed out from between bodies, turning around to catch sight of a visage she had not seen in more than a year. She make a small noise that resembled a 'meep' and took off running full-tilt towards the imposing Qunari, leaping over assorted small obstacles as she went.

"Tal!" She barreled into him, her momentum not even unsteadying him in the slightest, springing upward with sprightly grace. She cared for none of it though, and laughed aloud when he shook his horned head at her antics. She knew he meant no such thing, because he readily allowed it, patting her gently on the back until she saw fit to slide once more to the ground. She was still beaming when she turned back around to see the group.

"Ar falon, Blysse," Asmara said aloud, interpreting that Tal might be the reason the Dalish woman was so distressed. "He is my friend," she repeated for everyone else's benefit.

Tiaryn Ormet

Tiaryn caught the gist of what Zephora was getting at and nodded. She was not exactly the sort of person who trusted readily, and overly religious folk tended to make her even more cautious than usual. She knew she had not lived a life that most Chantry sorts would approve of, that much was certain. She was content to leave them be as long as they did the same for her... and those she cared to associate with.

When Cash approached, she was considerably surprised. While he was... familiar with Ryuu (in a way that rather amused her), she had not exchanged three words with him, and from the way he was looking at her like she should translate, this was even more true of Zephora. Truthfully, she knew she could not form sentences that complex in Chasind, but the general point was simple enough. "Eh... deirfiur, cara. Go raibh maith agat." Sister, friend. Thank you. Cash's tone could probably speak for itself.

Speaking of his sister; Tiaryn immediately ducked and had her first blade in her hand before she realized that what had come hurtling into camp was actually Blysse and not an enemy. Replacing the weapon carefully, she shot a look at Zephora that conveyed some concern, but said nothing, at least not until Asmara and Antius were plucked from the ground upon which they stood.

The resulting arrangement was uncomfortable in the extreme. Tiaryn did not like touching people any more than absolutely necessary, and was very picky about personal space. "Merda," she spat, having in her shock reverted to Antivan, "Non toccarmi!" Though not precisely yelling, the enunciation was so sharp as to be most unusual for her, constituting a significant departure from her usual flat tone. She forced herself out of the circle, though since she could sense the immense stress Blysse was under, she did not immediately flee as she would have otherwise. Instead, she stood well within view, but far enough away that she was not in contact with anyone.

Tiaryn had never seen an actual Qunari before, but she knew what they looked like, and so when he appeared, she was once again surprised, but immediately put two and two together and surmised that the eight-foot-tall denizen of the northern isles was the reason for her temporary imprisonment. Ready to draw her blades, she was stymied yet again by the small mage's reaction.

These people were completely bizarre, she decided, and that was the long and short of it.

Ryuu had all but toned out all the noises around him though he did see Cash enter; causing him to stir from his meditative state. He listened to what he heard nodding his head. "Cash It's not Bruce that bother's me; it's the memory of what I've done in the past." He admitted sorrowfully. Though at the smell of the broth; and the unexpected foot rub Ryuu's shoulders relaxed, though his face was a dark color, more so then usual. "This is new, never knew you were good at massaging.." He cooed playfully, as he picks up the cup he was given, taking in the scent; and without warning downing it all; the heat making his body relax even more. "That's really good; heh reminds me when we were all huddled in that cave drinking cider.." He reminded laughing alittle being he found it a funny memory even with the battle with the darkspawn. Though when the noises outside his tent occurred, his ears twitched heavily; much like Lenwe's did. "I don't know about you, but something must be going on out there..Wonder if Kujo did something to Bruce?" He suggested hopefully; though for once he lazily did not seemed to worried about it.

He was actually being able to relax; that was a first, even as a warden a time to relax was few and far between; and the fact he was getting his foot rubbed, well that was always a plus in his work; considering that his time as a crow ended up him doing the massaging. He looked to Cash, tilted head his ears twitched again. "How do you feel now? I know you've to be worried about Blysse; but how are you feeling?" He asked curiously, it wasn't often that Cash talked about himself; when they actually talked it was always either about Blysse, why he left his clan, or what and who pissed him off in the party. Though Ryuu wasn't complaining the things the male said always made him laugh; even if he couldn't laugh out loud. He let his mind sink back into a form of zen as he let out a relaxed sigh, this treatment; even though it never usually happened; was something he might be able to get use too.

Zephora and Tiaryn had fallen into another and, this time, comfortable silence. It was simply nice to have a straight-forward conversation with someone, even if Tiaryn could only speak and understand a limited number of words. Zephora had leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows, as she watched Dareth and Dubhradh interact. The halla was attempting to groom the ornery steed and Dubhradh was making it as difficult for Dareth as possible. He spun one way and then another, shimmied sideways, and then back the other way into the halla; he stomped his hooves and snorted, his head swaying back and forth, up and down, to make the halla's job more difficult than it should have been. While watching, Zephora noticed that Blysse's brother had made his way over to offer Dareth something from a cup -- she assumed it was whatever he, Asmara, and Antius had been working on.

He looked at her and Tiaryn from the corner of his eye before turning his full attention to Dareth, Zephora's head tilted to the side in thought as she imagined that he seemed to be trying to puff himself up. A smirk tilted the Chasind's lips up on one side and she shook her head, eyes wandering back in the direction of the main camp. She figured Cash would leave after tending to Dareth and perhaps after shooing off Dubhradh, who had become most interested in what the halla possessed that he did not. As such, she was surprised when Cash took a knee next to her and offered her a cup. Zephora sat up, eying Cash quizzically as he began to speak. She looked to Tiaryn for assistance, his tone sounded... so cold. Had she affronted him in some way? Was she being chastised for the way Dubhradh had attempted to nose his way into Dareth's meal? Her confused expression only deepened when Tiaryn offered the best translation she could -- thank you for being a friend to my sister, in so many words. Why would something so kind be stated in such a way?

Regardless, Zephora cleared her throat and offered a tentative nod to Cash and sipped the broth offered to her appreciatively, smiling hesitantly at the bard. Perhaps... it was just difficult for him to sound kind? Or, perhaps, Tiaryn didn't have the vocabulary required to convey his full meaning... perhaps she didn't translate properly to avoid injuring the Chasind's feelings... Zephora was suddenly relieved that the bard turned tail and retreated to Ryuu's tent, a breath escaping from her lungs that she didn't remember holding. Zephora looked to Tiaryn, her confused expression reappearing full force. "Go raibh maith agat?" she asked, looking for clarification. Thank you?, Cash sounded cold and distant, not thankful. The Crow didn't have a chance to respond, however, when Blysse came crashing through the edge of the woods.

Zephora found herself on her feet before the thought fully registered the Blysse was back. She took a few steps forward and then realized that Blysse was barreling towards her and Tiaryn. Blysse picked up Asmara and Antius then continued in Zephora's direction, scooping the Chasind and the Crow against her. Zephora could feel Tiaryn tense beside her and move to shift away, speaking in a sharp tongue that Zephora had never heard before. Zephora, less concerned about being squeezed against others, took the chance to latch on to Blysse. She wasn't going to let her run off into the woods again, not without taking Zephora along at least.

It was not but a few seconds later that both Tiaryn and Asmara had shimmied out of Blysse's grasp. Tiaryn stood back a few paces, straightening herself out and re-establishing her personal space. Asmara, however, had taken off at a run in the direction of a large... man... with horns... Zephora blinked, her grip loosening on Blysse momentarily as she took in the imposing creature and how Asmara clung to him in such a friendly way, but her grip once again tightened. One of her arms had been slung around one of Blysse's arms while the other snaked around the werewolf's middle. Zephora had lost interest in the large man that seemed to share common history with one of the party members, he was no longer of any concern. Her focus turned on Blysse, who appeared frantic and forlorn.

"Blysse... 'S fhada bho nach fhaca mi thu..." Long time no see.... A smile played over the Chasind woman's features as she released her hold from Blysse's arm and simply slung it around the other side of her waist, hugging against the transformed Blysse.

Antius smiled a bit, glad that his fellow cook approve of their mixture. He was just about to taste it for himself when he felt himself squashed within the underarm of a large beast, right against Asmara in fact. This, he realized to be Blysse and she was panicked about something judging by her chuffs. Quickly, the werewolf/elf gathered others of their group but soon enough, the source of her discomfort revealed itself in the form of a large, horned male. His jaw dropped. A qunari? A real, live qunari here in Ferelden? Impossible, but here one was, his golden skin and horns along with his large phsyique standing out amongst the group, making Antius himself feel frail in comparison. Moreso, he was surprised that instead of being scared or at least curious about his appearance, Asmara had disengaged herself from Blysse's grip and embraced the qunari like an old friend.

Antius himself slowly extricated himself from Blysse, noting bits of werewolf sweat sticking to him in distaste, before turning to Blysse and nodding his head in thanks. He had not studied lycanthropy in the Circle, but he knew some basics. The elf had obviously been spooked into a primal state and needed all the reassurance she could get, reassurance which she had received from the Chasind, Zephora. He felt himself sigh a little in relief. Her familiar and soothing tones should calm Blysse down. He smiled at the werewolf and added, "It's alright. Anyone Asmara likes has to be decent. Besides, from what I've read, the qunari are an honorable people."

He looked over at Asmara and the qunari curiously, questions literally burning upon his lips. Who was this qunari? What was his position within the Qun? Was he part of the Beresaad? Were the qunari interested in Ferelden? He'd have thought they'd focus on the Tevinter Imperium for the time being. Nonetheless, he held his tongue out of respect for his friend. Even he knew that it was bad manners to interrupt a warm reunion.

*

Connall frowned a bit, cursing as Blysse ran away from him or, to be more specific, away from the horned man that approached him. He glared over at him, "Damut, thank you for scaring her off. If I do not find her, I will never be able to repay my debt."

Before he finished, however, the horned giant had already taken pursuit. Growling a curse in his native tongue, Connall chased after them both. It took all his self-control not to slow his pace as he neared the campsite, his goal clearly emblazoned upon his mind. As he stepped into camp, however, he raised an eyebrow at a young elf embracing the horned man and the Chasind whispering sweet things into Blysse's ear.

This group is weird.

Ser Bruce Le-Guy

Bruce gave a friendly smile and nodded as his two best friends left to attend their things in the camp. Let go of my past? Never. The elves are abominations, and I am glad to see that the alienage exists. At least that prevents the elves from mixing with the humans.

Bruce shook his head and then went to check on his bag. There was a single lump of bread left for him to eat, he thought that it would probably go best with the food that was prepared. Thinking of food, the more Bruce sniffed the air, the louder his stomach roared to taste it; he hadn’t had any proper meals for almost two days and now with the opportunity that was being presented, his stomach would not let the option pass that easily. It twisted and it twirled the more Bruce breathed through his nose, inhaling the delicious smell of dinner being prepared.
This is torture. Food is here, in front of me, within my grasp, yet I must endure the mental and physical pain of waiting to satisfy my stomach. Bruce thought, smirking to himself as he imagined how dramatic such a speech could be performed.

His attention was shifted as he heard Asmara call out. Turning Bruce noticed the qunari in the camp. At first, Bruce froze and looked at the mighty thing, sizing the qunari up and down and then he looked at the horns. Bruce had to be truthful when he said, he had never really seen nor read any form of description of a qunari. He had heard of them being powerful creatures that were skilled warriors, yet they believed in something so foul that his mentors had refused to even speak of it.

He found himself slowly moving towards Connall, the weird human had to know what this…Demon-looking monster was. A gentle tap to Connall’s shoulder was to get his attention before Bruce leaned closer and asked, “What…Is that thing?” Bruce whispered, not whishing to possibly anger the newly arrived...Thing.

Connall raised an eyebrow as he was questioned by one of the group, turning to see a warrior, a Templar judging from his armor and heraldry. He grinned at his question and gripped his sword, "A tough opponent and that elf's friend, judging from how she's hugging him."

He gestured at Asmara and smiled lewdly, "Not bad for a horned giant."

Antius flushed at the implications and glared over at the barbarian, "It's not like that! They're just friends! And that "horned giant" is a qunari, one of the golden-skinned peoples from the north currently in conflict with the Tevinter Imperium. They follow an interest philosophy called the Qun, though I've never been able to get my hands upon a full transcript of it, not even in qunari. The Chantry banned it. Too dangerous they said. Not surprising as it took three Exalted Marches to stop their advance when they first arrived into Thedas hundreds of years ago..."

"So they're good warriors," Connall cut in.

"Well... Yes. And their technology is amazing..." Antius told him sheepishly.

"Well, why didn't you just say that?" the barbarian interrupted again. Lowlanders. They talked too much.

"I just hope he'll answer some of my questions. At least tell us what his position is in the Qun or if he has actually abandoned it altogether," Antius mused in awe, his voice in the same tone as it was whenever he discovered a particularly groundbreaking piece of knowledge.

Tal’Vashoth

Tal'Vashoth noted that more and more humans seemed to be appearing from the woodwork. Was it possible that Kadan knew all of these people? Perhaps. It should not surprise him, perhaps, that any person who could grow so close to his own heart should be capable of making that bond with others as well. For this reason, he knew it was best to try and tolerate all of them, regardless of how disagreeable he found some of them.

First things were first, however, and there was one party he would not actually mind treating cordially. Looking down at Kadan, he noted that she seemed to have an encouraging expression on his face, and so she spoke. "Elvhen'asha," he spoke to the one who had run from him, using the words Kadan had taught him at about the same time he was teaching her the Qunari words for things. "Abelas. Emma atisha." Hopefully, that would calm some of the madness these humans and elves seemed to bring upon themselves.

Turning next to the man in the metal suit and the one wearing furs of mountainous areas, he rumbled low in his throat at the obvious implication the latter had made. "You would do well to hold your tongue rather than speak in ignorance, human. It is not my desire to do violence to anyone, but I will not tolerate an offense to Kadan."

He recognized the other as one of those religious folk that was called a Templar. "The long-winded one speaks somewhat correctly," he informed them, referring to Antius. "I am Tal'Vashoth, formerly of Par Vollen. Now I am merely of this forest, and no threat to your precious Chant. I have forsaken the Qun."

He glanced back down at Asmara, uncertain how to deal with this rather bizarre situation. It was not an unfamiliar feeling; he had felt it for the first time upon meeting her, many years ago. The tiny little elf-child with all the kindness in the world to give, had been completely unafraid of the hardened Qunari warrior, and he had not known what to do about that, either. He'd ultimately decided to leave the area and the child, but she had followed him until he relented. All the uncertainty in his life was entirely her fault, but he could hardly blame her for that.

Beuce shifted his look between Antius and Connall. Connall’s attitude was maybe a bit too…Inappropriate for the situation, not to mention, the man didn’t even bother to keep anything discreet, and that alone was more than enough to annoy Bruce. Maker, make him shut up! Bruce thought as Antius then continued to talk about the culture and explaining how the qunari was more advanced in technology than the humans.

Bruce turned his head and shot Antius a chilling look, the kind of look that meant I’m a Templar, you’re a mage. before he looked at the Qunari’s speech, mainly directed towards Bruce. Who the bloody hell is Kadan? What does he mean by ‘Qun’?
Bruce didn’t respond at Tal’Vashoth’s statement at first, though the silence didn’t last long before Bruce opened his mouth to counter-talk the qunari, “I think it ought to be you who should mind your tongue. These are lands of the Maker, so mind how you address the people here.”

Bruce then crossed his arms and looked at the qunari. Bruce was proud of his religion and being a human, therefore he wouldn’t stand down because a single qunari barked at him, I won’t receive help from the others, that I know, however I am not helpless, Bruce thought as he narrowed his eyes.

The tense silence was then broken by a rather loud roar, originating from Bruce; he fought hard not to let a smile come on his face as his stomach was interrupting the moment to remind both Bruce and the others that they were meant to be eating, not fighting.

Antius suppressed as sigh as Bruce turned to confront the Qunari or, Tal'Vasoth as Qunari only referred those who followed the Qun. What was the name for their race? He wondered. They had to have called themselves something before their philosopher rose and changed their society or at least a large segment of their society. Not all humans followed the Chant, as Connall proved simply by breathing. He really hoped to stave off conflict. He didn't want Bruce or Tal'Vasoth hurting each other. He frowned a bit at Bruce's glare. He was used to those from the Templars back at the Circle whenever he toed the line of what was allowed or forbidden knowledge to pursue. He had hoped Bruce wasn't the type, though he wasn't surprised. He grinned, however, at Bruce's stomach growling.

"Why don't we settle this over dinner. The stew me, Asmara, and Cash made is done and there's plenty for our guests as well," Antius said, gesturing at Tal and Connall, who nodded in agreement.

"It's been a full day since I've eaten. I wouldn't say no to some broth," Connall agreed before grinning a bit at the horned man's words, "Alright, I meant no offense. It was actually a compliment, thought I'd be more than happy to take you up on your challenge."

Blysse's tufted audit remains swivelled backwards, repproachful at the loud reaction from Tiaryn. She reluctantly felt the human slip out of her grasp. Widened eyes remain on Tiaryn (for the Crow's own safety obviously) as the man-thing lumbers into view. Blysse lowered her snout to groom along Asmara's collar nervously. The muscles beneath her fur all bunch together as she sees the man-thing staring. She lifts her charred lips to show her teeth at him, stuck in dark gums. Blysse held Zephora against herself comfortably, listening to those Chasind words, as she began to reach out to try and force Tiaryn closer once more. When she did however Asmara bolted for the man-thing.

Fur damp with cold sweat she stands up from her crouched position, snarling rabidly until Asmara embraces the horned male. The werewolf's brow furrows as she falls silent. Lowering down to crouch again she watches with an anguished expression that slowly begins to smooth itself out. Antius says something, making Blysse snuffle over him and lick his hair. Asmara speaks that the man-thing is her friend. And then the male speaks Dalish. He apologizes, claiming he is safe. This followed by his reactions to the others soothes her, coupled with Zephora's presence and Asmara's confidence of the behemoth male.

Her body slowly releases every tense muscle. Shoulders dropping she sits back upon her haunches to better observe Tal'Vashoth. It came after what she recognized as 'I am'. The werewolf calms for a moment more, grip on no one but gratefully accepting Zephora so near her still. Her maw clenches briefly before more easily using a long, awkward tongue to reply to Tal. "Ma'serrannas falon." she can accept him near them now. He's shown he is of no intentional threat. Blysse feels no remorse or shame over how she first reacted to him. It was instinct to want to protect those in the party after all.

Now that her system has been riddled with adrenaline and cortisol she exhales wearily. That rush is common for werewolves to use. Blysse remains seated, using a nimble paw to comb Zephora's hair absently, further keeping her animal placid. She simply inhales the aromas around her to remind herself of where she is. Her quivering half ear rests on Bruce when his belly makes it known that dinner is ready.

~~~

Cash tries not to think about what the Crow had done in the past. Still he continued to weave his thumbs along the bulk of the fleshy pad around the man's heel. It's a common site for soreness at any rate. A faint blush creeps along his features when Ryuu made a remark about Cash's massaging skill. "In my clan, touch is sacred. Mmm...that seems so long ago." when they all had been in the cavern and the others began joining one by one. The din outside makes him cringe, switching over to Ryuu's other foot. Cash knows perfectly well what's going on out there but he'd much rather not face it.

The flaxen elf doesn't make any expression when asked such a question. He's always been such a little ass, a thorn in everyone's side. And Ryuu is checking on him. But why? It isn't as if all hell would break loose if Cash weren't in the best of moods. He doesn't actually do much for the group because, in all honesty, he can't. Just some silly little elf with pan pipes, a willingness to clean and a love to cook. "...maybe now is not the time for this talk Ryuu. I should go out there and check on the rest of the soup." his fingers fold over the top of Ryuu's foot gently to smoothly end the foot rub. He cast an apprehensive but impressed look to the Crow before scurrying out of the older male's tent.

Outside he's glad to see Blysse out in the open. A strange man with horns is among them now but is obviously no enemy to them. Cash had just caught wind of Antius' words and goes to the large pot hanging over the fire. He draws out extra bowls and spoons, ladling the servings accordingly to their guests and current members. The young Dalish works silently and diligently but he does watch Blysse whenever he finishes a bowl. After dishing up the food he stokes the fire, increasing it to wordlessly encourage the others to sit down and enjoy the dinner.

Asmara Surana

Asmara didn't quite understand why everyone was talking about things that she only half-understood, but she did give Tal a mildly-reproachful look when he spoke to Connall. She'd completely missed the implication that let to it, and thus the gruffness was rather uncalled for as she saw it. "Tal, be nice," she chided softly, "they're my friends too. And you might not be a threat to the Chant, but it's Ser Bruce's job to find that sort of thing out anyway."

She giggled when Bruce's stomach protested the delay, and eagerly agreed that it was time for food. Tugging Tal along behind her by the hand, she made sure everyone was set up with something to eat, taking the dishware as Cash ladled soup into them and passing it on to each of the others in turn. She made sure to take one over to Blysse, too, and set it down with a smile in front of the werewolf Dalish. "Ma'serannas," she told her, referring to her attempts to protect all of them earlier. She wasn't sure if this would be understood, but she lacked the vocabulary to properly explain, and figured it wasn't too important anyway.

Returning to the fire, Asmara settled next to Tal, smiling at Cash as she accepted her own stew, and sipped at at slowly. The warmth was doing her some good, she thought; it was getting slightly chilly, a sign perhaps of the encroaching autumn. "Does anyone know where Ser Sev and Jasper went?" she asked curiously. She was fairly certain that Arvin was still hunting as he was wont to do sometimes, and Kujo she simply presumed was with Sev, but why her fellow Warden or the mysterious pirate were missing was something she did not know. She wasn't worried; both of them were more than capable of taking care of themselves, but she might be if they took too much longer to return.

Tiaryn Ormet

Tiaryn had the distinct impression that she might have offended Blysse, though that had not been her intention. She had very averse and very visceral reactions to being seized without warning. She could deal with small things, accidental ones, but... too often had such actions signaled bad things to come for her to be fully accepting of being caught so off-guard.

Nevertheless, it was not her desire to be ungrateful or rude, and so she stuck fairly close afterwards. As soon as the group at large moved off, she settled back into her spot within proximity of Zephora and Blysse, picking up her cup of soup, and, pleasantly surprised to discover that it was both still hot and quite palatable, took to eating it, absently flipping through her tablet of drawings as she went. The Qunari was interesting-looking; she might have to consider recording him here. The contrast with Asmara might made for a good picture. Glancing at Blysse, she decided that it would be an interesting challenge to draw a werewolf also.

Though for now she would do neither of these things. The second was still clearly a sensitive topic, and the first she would need to actually get a proper look at first. But still... if she had ever been short of inspiration for her drawings, surely traveling with this lot would provide that in spades. So many people, and effects to be used as well. It was a strange habit of Tiaryn's to see people in colors that they were not necessarily wearing, though some of them seemed to be conscious of the sort of feel they might have to an artist's eye.

Zephora was a dark, earthen palette, with touches of deep red, Blysse the colors of a forest in sunshine (with lots of blue skies overhead). The Templar, Bruce, brought to life a tarnished, imperfect silver. Antius practically screamed to be surrounded with the browns and subdued hues of old books, bronze bindings, maybe... Asmara was the yellow of sunshine and the light green and purple of spring flowers. Jasper was all shadow and concealment, and he knew it, if the way he dressed was any inclination- but there was gold there, too. All of this bore some thinking over, actually, and she held her soup with one hand, sipping occasionally as she made notations in charcoal on a fresh page.