Ferelden

Death.

It was around everything and everyone. No one could escape it, no matter how far or how long you ran. It would follow you until you gave in and accepted your fate or collapsed on your knees and begged for it. Death would always follow you, and it will never cease to exist. It walked hand in hand with agony, despair, and torment. All of these things could not describe what Lyali was feeling. There was nothing, not even a light to show her the way to go. Pitch black covered her world as thunderous roars and the sounds of metal clashing with metal entered her senses. A sharp pain caused her to snap her eyes open, and once she did, she noticed feathers. She glanced to the source of pain and spotted the arrow piercing her arm.

Just as she pulled it out, she heard a sound. It wasn’t one of triumph or of reinforcements. It was the sound of the horns and drums signaling a retreat. Who was leaving the battle field? The signal had been lit, giving Loghain the opportunity to strike, just like he had spoken of back at the campsite. Was Loghain leaving the battle field? She parried a sword as it came into her face, darkspawn and Grey Wardens falling in her line of sight. She needed to get out of here, but how? She crawled to her feet, scraping her elbows against the floor as she did so. With as much strength as she could, she pulled herself up and stood on weak knees. She brought two fingers to her mouth and gave a sharp whistle, waiting for her companion to retrieve her. When the white beast appeared, she quickly grabbed the reigns and hauled herself upon his back.

“Let’s get out of here,” she spoke, barely above a whisper, and nudged the horse in a direction. Anywhere, any place would be good as long as she could escape. There was nothing more she could do. Duncan was dead; her fellow Grey Wardens are dead, massacred by the darkspawn. She felt arrows rushing passed her, landing in the other soldiers as she galloped passed them. A shriek of pain caused Lyali to plunge forward as Raenefel fell forward. She quickly recovered and a look of pure shock covered her face. Raenefel lay but a few feet away from her, an arrow sticking from the white beasts head.

“Rae,” Lyali could barely finish as she fended off an Alpha that tried to cleave her in two. There was nothing more she could do for the horse but leave him behind. The alpha roared as he swung his axe once again, trying to sever Lyali’s head from her shoulders. All she could do was roll out of his way and try to scramble to her feet. She lost her sword in the tumble and tried to reach her bow, but could not juggle evading an attack and reaching for her weapon. She spotted a broad sword. She knew she could not handle the weight, but what choice did she have? She rolled once again as the Alpha grew angry at missing. He was swinging his blade wildly now and nipped Lyali’s shoulder as she grabbed the sword.

With the remaining strength she had, she swung the blade and managed to embed it into the Alpha’s abdomen, pushing it further into the beast as its blood poured out. With a final, rage-filled cry, Lyali split the Alpha’s stomach open and watched as he fell to the floor, trying to keep his intestines from spilling out. There was nothing more she could do. All of her energy was gone. There was nothing left to defend herself with and she welcomed the blackness that was now ensuing her.

Had the world gone to hell?

Van withdrew his sword from the body of a org as one of the remaining tower guards lit the beacon. It had been a lot harder then he had been lead to believe but he got his first job as a warden done. He waited for a few seconds for the attack horns to ring. They did not nor would Van hear them instead he heard the retreat horns ring out. Did something in the plan go wrong? Van hurried over too one of the windows and saw Tarn Logane leading his legion if fresh troops away from the battlefield. What the hell is he doing? Don't tell me....... That bastard! Van thought as he watched the traitor walk way. Van tuned to face the remaining men as he grabbed his bag "Quickly we need to ge-". Van stopped as he saw a fresh wave of darkspawn heading there way lead by another org of all things. The org saw van and clearly targeted him, the org charged. Van knowing he was running out of energy tried to doge the hulk of muscle that was flying at him at terrifying speed. Van moved out of the way just enough that he was not impaled on his head but was kicked by one of its massive legs sending him flying back. At the same time the org's head bashed though the wall of the tower sending both of them falling to the hard ground below.

Surprisingly Van had come out almost unhurt. He had landed on the now dead org who had crushed its head when it fell. Van picked himself up and hunched oven in pain. It would seem he had broken a rib or two but now was not the time to think about that he was near the back of the battlefield and he needed to get out of there fast unless he wanted to end up dead. Grabbing his bag he began a odd jog that looked like a monkey walking around thanks to trying to move fast and to keep his rips from damaging his internal organs Dame it all why don't i know more healing magic? he though to himself. Suddenly a flash of steal caught his eyes. what appeared to be a wight haired elf had just slain a Alpha but looked as though that was something that took the last of her strength. Van took a look around and saw the last of the men making one last push. Good it will gave me time to get out of here he though as he turned to leave but then remembered the girl. Dame it all he thought to himself as he made his way over to her and offered her a hand up "Hurry up we need to get out of here, or do you want to die"

Gwenyth Cousland

A few days ago, Gwenyth was last seen in Denerim, but because of what she had heard about her Family and what has become of them, she realized that the only person she really needed to find and tell was her Brother, Fergus, who went to Ostagar prior to the massacre in Highever. She didn't know whether or not people had told him already, but either way, she was determined to find him and talk him into getting revenge against Arl... err... Teyrn Rendon Howe, and if he didn't go on with her, she was willing to do it on her own.

With nothing but her sword, shield and the new armor she worked so hard to pay for, Gwenyth arrived at the other end of Korcari Wilds. She had only started walking due to the death of the old horse she purchased with the small things she had left to trade him for, and he had passed away the day before because of dehydration and exhaustion as she had only stopped to camp every few days as she was desperate to get to Fergus before the war started. With the news of King Cailan and a few Grey Wardens present in Ostagar, she thought that approaching their supposed campsite from another direction would've been more convenient as walking right through the main entrance and getting killed for thinking she was an intruder.

"Okay, Gwen, you can get through this," The youngest Cousland whispered to herself as she stopped by a lake to let out a few breath. She exhaled and inhaled at a faster pace as she began to feel her heart race, and her senses made her feel cautious as the hairs on her skin had suddenly stood up. She felt a pair of eyes - maybe more - watching her as she tried to relax herself. Gwenyth closed her eyes and mumbled, "Don't tell me that there are band-"
An arrow passed by, an inch away from her head. Her eyes narrowed and she grasped her sword and shield, both had been held tightly as she turned around and gasped. A ghoul, of some sort, with a cloth wrapped around its head, his mouth opened with blood and saliva dripped out of it, and it was dressed with armor that seemed to have been more expensive that her own. She gulped and bit her lower lip. "This must be one of those darkspawns that people spoke of," She thought aloud as she felt her heart thumped against her chest as she waited for it to move.

A roar came out from the creature as it charged towards her. Gwenyth clenched onto the sword tight as she ran towards it to meet it halfway. Its sword had scratched her armor, and she became rather agitated at the thought that she worked so hard to buy such armor to only get it scratched with the rusted weapon the creature wielded. She frowned and thrust her sword forward, her eyes stared into the creature's eyes as she pushed the sword right through its chest and swept to the side Blood gushed out and sprayed onto her skin, and she shivered as the body limped and fell to the floor. Though she couldn't sigh or take a relieving sigh as she heard an explosion and turned her head towards the direction. There was some sort of fire beacon and she noticed how close she was to the campsite. The war must've begun, and she was delaying herself. Gwenyth shook her negative thoughts and began to run towards the direction, although hoping not to face too much of those darkspawns along the-

She spoke too soon.

---

Marroseth

Now who could have predicted this?

The stone ruins of Ostagar lay stained, more red than black. This was to the dismay of many. Oh, so beautiful it was, the arching crimson contrails that followed closely behind the wicked blades. Magi, Templar, Grey Wardens, and oh so many would-be knights of Ferelden now lay dying on the field of honorless battle. The great King, in his righteous charge, in all his gold and glory, now lay a motionless corpse among his fellows. The screams of men could be no where near as disheartening to the crippled moral of those who still lived to fight as the horns of retreat from their beloved saviors. The men whom so much faith and trust was placed in, and now they would leave all these fools to their appointed fates. The rain poured down an unforgiving tempest upon these doomed souls, as even now flies and maggots feasted eagerly upon the dead. It seams they too foresaw the outcome of this little skirmish. This day, this dark and cold day, was just so...... so.....

"........Perfect!" cried a gleeful voice through iron bars. His cheer ringing through the rain-drenched gloom sharper than the clang of weapons of war. "Quiet, You Damned Bastard! I'll hear no more from your mouth!" This was the spiteful reply of the only Templar charged with the cursed duty of protecting a being, which was without a doubt unworthy of such. "Oh Nordin, can't you see? Can't you taste it? Their is a bitter-sweet irony in the air!" Upon the successful parrying and dispatching of one of many a tainted horror, the bloodied Templar glared back in disbelief. "Firstly, it's 'Sir Nordin', Monster! And of what irony do you speak, Marroseth?" The monster grimaced underneath his cold mask. "Well, 'Sir Nordin', firstly I'd say duck..."

Nordin looked back with a confused expression, visible even through his helmet. "Duck? Gagh!" he cried, as a Darkspawn mace met the back of his plate armor. He landed hard upon the ground, but recovered with a swift role. Mace in hand and shield at the ready, Sir Nordin blocked his opponents followup blow and countered with a strike of his own to the side of the dark beasts knee. A second blow to the opposite knee fell the hurlock, while the Templar stabbed his mace down in a dagger-like fashion to it's face for the deathblow. Recomposing himself in a huff, he returned his attention to the cage of Marroseth. "You.... you knew I wouldn't listen to that, didn't you?" "That'd be telling.... But I believe I was saying something.... Ah, yes. The irony!" Marroseth took a moment to childishly giggle, like a young boy withholding a secret from another. "The irony lies within what your intentions with me were. I know you meant for me to die here, but now...." he stopped again, letting out a chuckle in a cold and dark tone. "Now freeing me is your only hope of living....."

"Like hell! I'd rather strip down to my nethers and invite the darkspawn to line dancing!" Sir Nordin paused a moment, before giving a slight tilt of his head. "Huh.... I use to be good at dancing..." he remarked, before nearly being beheaded by a genlock. Marroseth watched the fight from within his cage with wicked amusement. Between the swings and sways, Sir Nordin retorted. "In any case" he spoke, back-stepping out of the stubby creatures reach, "I would not suffer being bit on the arse by making bargains with a devil such as you!" Marroseth rested his hands upon the sill of his cages window, his clawed fingers draping over the edge with one pointing upwards to add emphasis to his upcoming point. "Ah! But do devils not always keep to their deals?" "True.." replied Nordin, giving an edged bash of his shield to the darkspawn's face, "but don't deals with devils always come with some horrible price, that eventually leads to the aforementioned arse-biting?" Marroseth leaned heavily against his little portal to the outside world, letting his arms drape through the bars. "Awww, I was hoping you'd forget that part..." he returned in a playfully pouting voice.

Nordin finally dispatched his midget of a foe, and returned to the conversation with Marroseth. "Yes, well... I didn't... so no." Nordin watched as the merciless eyes of the fell being lazily glanced upwards. "Knife." "What?" Nordin inquired, to which Marroseth added a pointing finger and a reply. "Knife!" he repeated, barely giving the knight enough time to react. The Templar barely ducked the jagged blade which clashed against the impenetrable stone of Marroseth's cage. The twisted visage of the hurlock's face was that of surprise, as a clawed arm shot out and swiftly locked unto it's arm. A second grasping onto it's head, with Marroseth's thumb piercing into the darkspawn's eye. In a moment, the hurlock backed away grasping at it's now missing jugular. Marroseth played merrily with the black gore between his fingers. "Now this! This is fascinating... Sir Nordin, you are a knight, yes? And I have just saved your life, yes?"

Nordin looked up cautiously, meeting those malevolent eyes of this demon-being. Eyes which now burned with a dark shade of red. ".....And there's that bad feeling. What of it?" Marroseth gave a deep throaty laugh, and spoke out in a voice that sent ice through Nordins veins. "Heh heh heh.... Then by your honor, Sir Knight, you now owe me a debt. A life for a life. Yours for mine. Let me out....." The Templar gazed towards the muddy Earth, weighing his choice in his mind. As a Templar, he was a knight. As a knight, he must uphold his honor. Had this demon really forced him into freeing this hellspawn? Then... a wicked idea crossed his mind. He brought the view of his helmet up to meet the gaze of Marroseth, as a matching grin crawled over his lips. Marroseth could... sense this. "No..." "You'd shame your honor?" Marroseth asked, crimson eyes narrowing. "No, I agree to a life for a life..... And with the aid of a horse, I can save your life. Which means I don't need to let you out. Get it?" Nordin replied, as he closed one of twin wooden doors over Marroseth's view. Doors Marroseth didn't know were there. Doors to a carriage.

The red in Marroseth's eyes faded to white, as his voice became that of manic surprise. "Wait, I'm in a wagon?!" Nordin just rolled his eyes. "No, we hauled an enormous ancient stone cage all the way from the Circle to Ostagar by hand..." he shot back with a mocking tone. "Waaaaiiit.... was that sarcasm?" To this, all the knight could do was groan as he closed and latched the second door to the carriage.

"Oh, do shut up...."

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.

Raynan had stuck with the other Crows only out of necessity during his journey south toward Ostagar. He loathed the constant chatter that the other men kept up. He hated constantly being surrounded by other people. There was no peace. Unless he was on watch. He always chose to take watch during the longest part of the night, for it was always the most peaceful. That was the only time he ever had to think. He would slip away from the campfire into the darkness, where he'd make his rounds. It wasn't that a group of travelers such as these Antivan Crows would be in any particular danger, but there were always bandits and thieves to look out for. Ferelden was a horrible, dirty country that only the lowest of the low lived in. They simply couldn't be trusted to not lift a purse or steal goods if they were to come across this group of well-armed assassins. Of course, it would probably be the last thing they'd ever do in their lives, but still.

But now, they had finally made it to their destination. Some odd side road a ways south of Lothering. Lothering, they figured, was likely to be the first town any surviving Grey Wardens would shamble up to, and this is where they would wait. Raynan, however, had separated himself almost immediately from the group, beginning a sort of challenge among the five assassins. He situated himself in the forest even further south, just off the road. The road was somewhat busy, with surviving Templars and their mages, soldiers, and most pleasantly, a smattering of Grey Wardens. He'd actually seen two Wardens pass by his spot during a particular lull in the traffic, one aiding the other as they struggled to continue to a supposed place of safety. They had never seen him coming. He'd slipped up behind them and, with a dagger in each hand, had slit their throats. Before they could bleed out too much on the trail, he had quickly hoisted the dead bodies, one at a time, over his shoulder and further into the brush so they would be out of sight and out of mind… At least for a day or two.

Once the bodies were well enough hidden, Raynan went back out to the road and kicked at the dirt with the sole of his soft leather boot, smearing the blood that had leaked into the soil as best he could. Then, upon the sound of more movement on the other side of the little hill he was behind, he slipped back into the brush once more, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head and merging with the shadows. He crouched down, eyes on the road to the south as he waited for his next victims to stumble their way out of the bloody slaughter that was Ostagar and into his little web.

Van cursed himself for the girl had passed out clearly drained of all her energy and knew no matter how hard he tried to wake her she would be out for a bit. Van knew there was only one way he could get her out of there with her, it would be costly but what else could he do. Page eight:Mana to might. Van chanted in his mind as called forth the spell as he felt strength empower his limbs but felt a shot of pain in his head as he felt the stress from the spell take hold. Van let go of his ribs the spell he cast increased his strength, stamina and stability of his body. Van grabbed the girl who was quite heavier then what she looked like, most likely do to her armor, and though her over his shoulders. The stress on his mind grew as he put more strain on the spell but that would not stop him.

Van began a steady pace away from what was left of the army. Van ran for about five minutes and it began to look like they would get away from the battle without too much trouble. Van saw something truly surprised him a Templar guarding a wagon with something odd in it but dismissed the fact for now he had a way out of here. Suddenly Van felt what felt like a bolder crash into him. Both him and the girl fell to the ground Van trying to keep the girl from getting to hurt. Van looked to see a nearly dead hurlock Alpha had rammed into him. The beast had only one hand and had over a dozen wounds covering its body but was still intent on fighting more Van pointed a finger at the Alpha Shocking shot. He thought as he fired a bold of electricity into the beasts head killing it. Van, no longer being able to maintain the Mana to might spell felt the last of his magic energy ran out. Van ran over to the girl who was still unconscious and grabbed her by the base of her arm and began to drag her towards the cart "Hay you Templar guy I need a hand here!" Van managed to say. This is one hell of a first day for a job

---

Nordin could barely gain control over the crazed and fearful old mare, as it reared and bucked from panic. He was all but ready to let the terrified creatures jet away into the night, towing the two along for the ride, when he was beseeched by two elves for passage. One of them was completely unconscious, and the others strength looked like it was quickly fading. "I'm sorry but I can't... uhh...." he started, but couldn't finish. He found himself staring at the female, and watched as a strand of snow white hair moved aside from her face. "Uhhh........" She was wounded, helpless, and a fair bit on the attractive side. "....Oh, damn it. Fine, but do hurry! And for the love of the Maker, don't go near the back" he shouted, aiding the elf in hoisting the young woman unto the space next to himself. "Nordin, aren't you going to introduce me?" cooed a loathsome voice from the back. "Not the time!"

"Quickly, boy, they're almost upon us and I don't kn-" Nordin attempted to say, but was cut off by the pitter-patter of crossbow bolts pelting the sides of the cart. Two were reflexively blocked by Nordin's shield, piercing it's steel and nearly his arm. As for the horse, that was all she wrote. The frantic beast took off at a quickening pace, which caused the girl to slump over and across Nordin's lap. "Ahh! This... is gonna be awkward..." He quickly reached out his hand to the elf, as he dashed madly to catch up. With one leap and the blessing of some divine force, the two's hands lock onto each other. The elven fighter was pulled aboard the speeding wagon as it raced away from the war.

The horse had run rampant for some time before the first of several hazardous turns came up. Hazardous at fare speeds, impossible at their current one. Sir Nordin could swear he felt the girl begin to stir on his lap, when the wagon leaned heavily on two wheels before spilling it's occupants over the cliff and into the woods below. The carriage crashed neatly into the branches of a tree, while it's side burst open and expelled Marroseth's cage. The three tumbled through the brush and thankfully out of the path of the ancient stone box, which steamrolled a path through the shrubbery and every other godly thing in it's way. It's occupant cried "Yeeeeeeeeeheeeehehehaahahaaaaaahaaaaaaaa!" as it rolled to a crash.

The others finally stopped their tumble when they rolled upon level ground. Completely worn out, one armor-clad weary arm raised with index fingered extended. "Well..... I think this is a lovely place to set up camp for tonight. What say you lot?" the knight groggily slurred out, his arm collapsing upon completion.

She was dreaming. She had to have been dreaming. It was warm and she could smell the perfumes decorating the halls that she once lived in. Lyali shifted and felt herself slipping. She was running now. There was a figure off to the distance, standing in a doorway that was painted white. She felt a sense of familiarity, but couldn’t quite place it. She dragged herself, trying to get closer to the figure. But it seemed that every time she got closer, the figure would get further. As she closed in on the figure, it slowly began to turn and the outlines of a familiar face began to show. Before Lyali could react, she took a deep plunge, falling into a never ending abyss before a sharp pain caused her to snap open her blue eyes.

“Wha’?” she dragged out as she tried to regain her sight. She could taste dirt in her mouth and she quickly tried to move. She regretted it as quickly as she moved. She cried out in pain as she grabbed her shoulder. She tenderly pushed against the skin and felt the bone was out of place. Great, just what I need, a dislocated shoulder, she thought before her attention turned to that of a man. He had spoken something, something she didn’t quite catch, and immediately thrust her arm towards him.

“Push this arm back into place,” she quickly spoke. Although the tone she used was more of a demand. The quicker he put her arm back into place, the quicker she could leave. She didn’t recognize the place she was in and her memories flooded back to Ostagar. Just a few minutes ago, she was in a war killing darkspawn with the other Grey Wardens. Now, she was sitting on a dirt path with a man, who seemed to have had a prior duty than be a soldier, and a dislocated shoulder. If she was more alert, she would have noticed another figure off to the side. An elf who had helped her escape Ostagar, unbeknownst to her of course. Even more so, she would have noticed a peculiar cage with an even more so peculiar…item.

After the escape from Ostagar Van could not sleep. Van had used the time he had to give him some basic first aid, and using what little healing magic he knew did a patch job on his ribs but it would be smart for him to see a real healer. Van opened up his bag and looked though what he had. He had the treaties, The mysterious tome that he stole from the Circle before fleeing, a single sovereign with some silver and copper, some crushed food, a healers kit and a few healing salves and a map. Van did not speak to his savior he seemed preoccupied with retrieving his ....Friend from the bushes though van maid a mental note to thank him latter. What am I to do now van though to himself Everyone is dead, Duncan, the king, most of the wardens and the army how can I deal with the blight now? A flash when though his mind, the memory of Tarn Logane leading his legion if fresh troops away from the battlefield. Hes not going to be letting Wardens walking around after his betrayal of the king and he is definitely not going to be fulfilling his obligation to the treaties. The Dwarves and the elves would probably help out but without the humans, the dominate power in the land.

Van leaned back on a tree and observed there surroundings. The group had made camp on top of a hill in the middle of the flatland's about have a days march from Lothering. There were little trees but many bushes, the plaint life seemed to have gone without rain for some time. In the camp had no fire had been lit for risk of attracting darkspawn patrols, last thing this group needed was a fight. First there was the Templar who's job seemed to be keeping the second member at bay, who seemed to be one of the spirit of the fade would be Vans best guess but he could not tell what it really was. The third member of the group was the unconscious Elf girl whom he knew nothing of but Van...... sensed something from her, he did not know what, might have something to do with Van becoming a warden, maybe to sense something.....but what? It does not matter now The last member of the group was himself a mage who felt so tired it felt like his hole body had been turned into lead.

Van was about to begin to study his tome when he heard the girl begin to sire "Wha" the girl gasped as she suddenly sat upright but then garbed her shoulder which seemed to be dislocated.The girl muttered something to herself which Van did not catch. Van cringed as she poped it back into place. The girl looked around looking confused, trying to figure out what was going on. Van picked himself up and grabbed the healers kit and some of the crushed food. Van walked over to the girl.

Van threw The food and kit onto her lap. "Names Van. Your about half a days match from Lothering. You passed out in the battle, you almost died." he said "We can talk in a bit first eat something and patch yourself up, you need to regain your strength, if you need any help with the kit or have any questions let me know and ill do my best to help." Vat sat down across from the girl and gave her a tired smile.

Once she reached the campsite, everything was in flames, some already in ashes. There were bodies everywhere, some slumped atop the other and there were some who were headless and limbless. The sight made Gwenyth shiver and pause in shock as everything reminded her of the moment not so long ago when she returned to Highever Castle and saw all the lifeless bodies of her relatives and people she knew, and the memories caused her to become so distracted that she didn't realize that there were those ugly creatures around. She felt a loose tear roll down her eyes before she furrowed her brows, gripped the handle of her blade tight as well as the hold of her shield, and she turned around - just in time - and swung her blade violently towards the darkspawn. Its head flew to the other side, blood squirt up towards the air as she kicked it away from her and used her shield to get through a few more of them.

After a while, she managed to get through to the other side. Though there were still plenty of darkspawn and ogres about, she managed to make it to the other side with her head intact, even though her armor was barely whole. There were scratches on the metal and there were bloodstains mixed with her own as there was a bleeding gash on her exposed left arm. She tossed her shield over her head and around her neck as she held onto the wound on her left arm. Gwenyth followed the wounded fighters towards safety as they retreated, and she couldn't find the time to talk to any one of them because she ended up having to help a few of them onto the horses and carts as they looked to be more in pain than she was. However, while trying to stay stable, the Cousland girl ended up separated after a group of darkspawn appeared and threatened to attack the group of wounded fighters, and being able to still fight, she had to hold them back.

"Great, I'm all alone," She sighed as she stopped at the side of the dusty, blood stained road and pulled off the armor on her right arm to take a good look at her wound. She had to rip the sleeve of her clothing to fully see it, and she winced at the sight of the shard from the weapon the creature used had remained to stay put right in the middle of the wound. "Oh, that's not good," She groaned while pressing the shard between her fingers and looked away. Gulping down the smallest ounce of strength that she had left in her, she bit her lower lip hard and pulled as strong as she could. She felt the shard slide between her flesh and out of her, the red liquid drizzled down to the ground as she threw the shard across the road, towards the bush. Her head lowered as she was on the verge of fainting. Her eyesight went to a faint blur, but being stubborn, she used the ripped cloth to wrap the wound - tight. She then pushed herself to her feet, her weakened arm had weighed her to the left, more so as she used it to hold onto the shield. Her sword was held by her right hand, but it wasn't her strongest arm.

"Come on, Gwen, we have to get out of here..." Gwenyth spoke to herself, trying to motivate herself, but everything blurred out after two steps. And after another two more steps, she was dragged to the side, tripped and landed into the bushes. At that few seconds, everything had turned black.

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.

Raynan sat up against his tree in complete silence as the broken warriors of Ostagar continued to move through. His eyes trailed over every suit of armor that passed by. Templar. Soldier. Solider. Mage and Templar. He let out a soft sigh and settled in, pulling his cloak tight around himself. He would be there for days; waiting to be sure that no Grey Warden ever made it to Lothering. From time to time, when there were few people on the road, he would comb the forest around him, making sure that none had escaped into the trees and were sneaking their way past him. The assassin was nothing if not thorough.

The man had leaned his head back against the hard wood of the tree and closed his eyes, about to drift off in a light sleep when he heard a scuffle begin a bit further down on the road. He watched as a small group of darkspawn came running out of the forest toward a few of the survivors. Raynan watched, somewhat amazed as a woman, of all things, shooed the wounded soldiers off and turned to take on the beasts herself. The thought of helping her didn't cross his mind even once. What good would it be for him to reveal himself? Then his mission would be thrown off, and questions would be asked that he didn't want to answer. So, he sat observing. She clearly was no Grey Warden. In fact, she seemed to have very little knowledge of the creatures- made obvious by the way she fought them. Therefore, the assassin was surprised when the woman proved victorious and the darkspawn lay dead at her feet.

He watched as she seemed to stumble a little bit up the road in his direction. Clearly she was wounded. His cold blue eyes flitted over her form until he found the source, just as she pulled the armor pieces from her arm, letting them drop to the ground as she then ripped her sleeve to reveal a ugly chunk of debris caught in her skin. He shook his head as she pulled the shard out, his eyes following the metal as she tossed it away in his direction. He remained still, though, bringing his gaze back to her while she bandaged the wound. Should have left it in, he thought. Stupid girl. At least until someone could stitch the wound. "Come on, Gwen, we have to get out of here..." he heard her say, and then she began to walk again, even closer this time. And suddenly, she was tumbling into the bushes, nearly landing right on top of him.

"Bloody Ferelden women," Raynan muttered, glancing up and down the road to see if anyone else was around. When he didn't spot anyone, he unfolded his long legs and grabbed got up. He knew he had to move her before someone came up and invaded his perfect little hiding space, trying to rescue her. He leaned down and picked her up and moved her out of the bush, laying her down further in the trees on the soft, mossy ground. He knelt next to her, icy eyes scanning over her now that she was up close. She was beautiful, behind the blood splattered all over her face and matted in her hair, and the shape of her armor indicated that she had a rather voluptuous form that the assassin could certainly appreciate. Her armor was scratched and dented, and covered in a mixture of blood, but it was not the armor of the King's army, nor that of a Templar or Grey Warden. "What the blast would a woman like you be doing, running around in the south during a massacre?" he asked the unconscious woman in a low, hissing voice. "And what am I supposed to do with you now? I have more important things to do than to care for a stupid, injured girl."

His eyes slid down to the wound on her arm, where the cloth she had tied was already filling up with blood. "Going to bleed to death," he mumbled, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. He reached up and grabbed one of the daggers from his back and used it to cut off more of her sleeve. He placed the dagger back in its sheath on his back. Raynan quickly untied the cloth that the girl had wrapped around her arm. He folded up the extra cloth that he had cut form her sleeve and placed it over the wound, then tied the bloody band tightly around her arm once more. Eyeing his work, he let out a soft snort. Why do I even bother? he asked himself. Ah well, she may be of use to me later… With a warm hand on her wrist, he checked her pulse. Steady enough. She'd wake eventually. The assassin pushed himself back up and moved back toward the road, though he adjusted his hiding spot ever so slightly so that he could keep an eye on the girl as well as the road. It wouldn't do for her to wake and catch him off-guard.

She felt something tugging on her arm, there was a warm breath against her skin, and a dark, husky voice speak towards her, but she couldn't respond. She couldn't move. She felt everything, but she could move herself at all. A sudden pressure on her wound made her twitch. She came in and out of consciousness and it was a while before she finally opened her eyes and she sat up. A groan escaped from her lips as she clenched on her arm and frowned. She cussed under her breath, which wasn't so lady-like, and she was surprised that her wound had been changed and it looked a lot cleaner. It scared her to think that there may have been someone around to have fixed her like that without her knowing, and from a sudden fear, she stood up and looked around to find whoever was there, yet no sign. "Anyone there?" She called as she kept her hand on her wound when it began to throb. There were no signs of her weapons either.

Gwenyth caught an glimpse of her weapons then a man hidden by the bushes. She took a step back and wasn't exactly sure what was going on. She wasn't sure if she should run or if she should just scream to see if anyone around could hear her. Whoever that man was, he had a vibe that she didn't like, but because he was the first person she thought of to aided her with her wound, she couldn't help but thank him for it. Gwenyth, being raised to be respectful, cleared her throat and said, "Um, thank you for helping my wound..."

'Did that even sound right?' She thought to herself.

---

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.

A lone knight walked down the road, he stuck out from the rest of the wounded and people fleeing. His armor was no where near being unscarred or shiny like a Shining Knight should be on his white stead. The armor had dents and a few arrow marks in it aswell, the most visible on his lower torso where dried blood was aswell. Daven keep on moving, he hadn't stopped since the battle of Ostagar, He hadn't rode the horse for a few hours as the armor and it having the lack of water and food probably would have killed it.

His legs were numb and he could barely feel them with each step. He glanced down the road from where he had come and back to the way he was walking, "North... Huh." he said patting his horse's neck. He was alone the darkspawn had killed the rest of the men he had been traveling and fought with. All he knew was that the battle had been lost, supposedly the Grey Warden's killed the King and Tarn Logane had pulled his troops out to evade the Grey Warden's trap, or whatever that bullshit was about. He didn't really care, all he knew was they were left for dead by that man. He knew his 'brother' had perished in the battle he wished he could say he didn't care but he still felt. Something.

Daven finally stopped by the edge of the road and tied his horse to the tree as he let out a large sigh, "Guess we'll camp here?" he said stroking his old friends mane.

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.