Isolde Yana Bennett's Story

Isolde approached the small village of Lothering through a farm, she had heard about the darkspawn threat that was approaching and needed to head north as soon as possible, but she couldn't do that with her legs being so sore so she sat on the road way, overlooking Lothering, it was a mess, filled with refugees and panicking templars and injured soldiers. She looked over to the wind mill, in a cage just outside the city she could see a Qunari in a cage, if the Chantry did that to a man for killing someone, what would they do to her just for not being in the Circle. She brushed her hair back behind an ear and looked over her shoulder, a wagon was approaching.
Isolde turned around and stepped off the wall and squinted to get a better look at the driver, he was a templar. He won't be able to tell. Isolde thought silently to herself and waved him down. She looked back to the Qunari, I need to get out of here before anyone finds out. She looked back up to the Templar. "Please, Sir, please help me." She begged him, looking into his eyes. "I need to get away from here, I know what's coming. Lothering is too dangerous, place take me away." She cried. The only thing she had on her was her dagger and the clothes on her back. She could have sworn she heard movement in the back of the wagon but ignored it.

Isolde was rejected by the templar and so she decided to head further south, she could probably hid from the horde in the Wilds and very little templars would attempt to hunt her down. She followed the road south for awhile before, avoiding it all together and walking through the trees and on a small mud track, she could still see refugees following the road from Ostagar, she noticed a small encampment up ahead and worried it was Darkspawn or bandits she started sneaking up to it, she hid behind a tree and observed the group. A human knight/templar, a female elven hybrid and a male elf, they also seemed to have a prisoner, he didn't seem so dangerous, they must have had a reason. Isolde whistled and put her hands in the air, her hair had become a mess and her clothes were slightly more scruffy and dirty than long before. "Hello?" She greeted cautiously, her dagger could be seen, Sure it looks pathetic but it's not the only weapon I have. She thought to herself.

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Nordin sat straight up with a groan,, placing one hand on his back to try and relieve some of the aches. It didn't work. He glanced around to see everyone else was now moving, and at least not dead. He slowly clambered to his feet, attempting to stabilize his still-dazed mind with the added burden of his armor. First thing to cross his thoughts was to check his belongings. His mace was but a few feet away, his shield was still on his arm, and his satchel of provisions was..... hanging in that tree. Upside down. "Terrific...." he groaned as he moved to retrieve it.

After a bit of a struggle, the branch finally yielded and relinquished it's treasure. Al didn't even have to look inside, but did so anyway. "By the Maker..... even the cheese is gone." he let out with a heavy sigh. He strapped the small leather bag back to his side, and sought to aid his new acquaintances with any troubles they may be having. His first thought was to the elf-woman, who had just popped her arm into socket. He knelt down beside her and offered his only healing salve. "Are you alright? This is all I have, but you are welcomed to it if you so need. Ehmmmm.... you.... wouldn't happen to have remembered anything from the wagon would you?"

He was nervous about what her reply may be. It wasn't his finest moment, and having a conversation about it was not on his list of personal joys. Thankfully, a voice seamed to call out from the woods. A young girl dressed in rags of leather, with long black hair. She had an air about her that wasn't quite right. Years of Templar brainwashing kicked in, as Nordin's mind profiled her as either a witch, an apostate, a barbarian, or just a crazy girl. He quickly ruled out barbarian when he saw that her only weapon was a dagger, and surely the savage folk of the Korcari laugh at such a meager blade.

Nordin was a bit on edge, but he couldn't assume anything about this girl. He chose to address her just as she appeared: as some lost stranger wondering through the woods. "Hold there, stranger. None of us here are seeking trouble" Nordin spoke, using his carefully crafted intimidating Templar drone voice. "We can ill afford to take chances, so if you do seek our company I would ask that you lay down your dagger.... and... any other things you could use to stab us." His hand drifted over his mace, which hung loosely at his right side. Nordin didn't know what to expect, but hoped she would comply.

After all, there were enough blade-wielding strangers around him for one day.

Isolde looked at the man who answered her. "I'm afraid I can't set my dagger down, for all I know you want to harm me and it is all I have to protect myself. Please understand." She pleaded and watched his hand reached for his mace. "Do you honestly think that I am going to attempt to fight you? I am outnumbered and to tired to fight." She assured him, hoping he would step down. She looked over to the cage. "Who's in that?" She asked pointing to it, if he could give her an honest answer she would trust him and if he lied, well, bandits are pretty terrible when it comes to dealing with an apostate.