Valmyria Windstrider - Redcliffe castle.

She heard the Qunari, but didn't immediately respond as she examined the bracelet. "It's such a curious little thing... I can detect traces of magic, but they are too quick for me to be able to lock on to." she replied. "Lainolen. See what you can make of it. I fear we might have to go to the Circle of Magi to find out more, but you are more skilled than I am in terms of magic and might be able to pick up something more." She handed the bracelet over to the mage and continued along the road. It wasn't long before they arrived at the heavy iron gates. The Redcliffe Castle Gate had some remodeling done as well. Now it resembled a small fort, containing a few towers, places for siege equipment, a small barracks and armory, two layers of gates, all surrounded by a large stone wall for archer support. Truly a head on assault of the castle would be a foolish notion. It did have a larger amount of troops then she suspected there would be stationed here during this so called "peace time", and considering that it was getting close to the harvest season.

There were a few guards at the gates and they took notice of the small party coming their way. Some of them did a double take and took far too long looking her way then she would have preferred, causing her to redden a little. She noticed a more heavily armored man steep forward from the group of soldiers, and hailed the party.

"Ho, friends." he said, hand resting gently on his sword. "What business brings you to His Lordship's castle?"

"We are Grey Wardens," she replied. "I am Valmyria Windstrider, Warden-Commander. This is Lainolen, and Arvaskok. We seek the presents of his Lordship, Arl Drail Hailstrom."

The captain raised his eye brow a little bit at the elf's announcement. "The Arl will be relieved that you are here, but I must ask, I thought Taylon Lothar was the Warden Commander. what happened to him?"

"... He fell." replied Val with steel in her voice. The guard captain shrugged off the comment and turned back to the gate. He made a circling motion with his hand and the gates started to open. The small company walked through the gates and headed into the castle's courtyard. The bridge and courtyard were busy with moving wagons and teeming with people. Soldiers organized themselves into units and were issued deployment orders to certain towns under Redcliffe protection, or into patrol units. there were templars, chantry priests, a few mages, knights, and servants. "What an odd place to issue orders," remarked the Warden under her breath.

"Lady Windstrider!" shouted a voice. The Commander instantly turned her head in the direction of the voice, the top of the stairs that lead into the main keep. She saw a female dwarf, dressed in Silver plated armor wave at her frantically while jumping up and down to be noticed. The Warden smiled, and weaved her way through the crowd. " Moira," she said, greeting the female dwarf. "Gentlemen, this is Captain Moira, she lead a unit of the Silver Order here a few days ago to help the Arl with his plans. Moira, this is Arvashok, and Lainolen." the female dwarf nodded her greetings at the two. "My Lady, Arl Hailstrom will be excited to know that you have arrived, however, I thought you should know that Warden Grashen al-"

"Valmyria Windstrider," replied a cool voice. Val looked to her left and say a man desending from the stairs that lead up to the battlements. He wore what looked like a darker version of light templar armor with a silver griffon painted over it. "Warden Grashen. What are you doing here?" she replied coldly.

"I assume if you are here then Commander Lothar must have finally taken an arrow in the back. Don't worry though, commander. I'll not be here long. I'm going south with the forces to reinforce Ostagard. We need some Warden presence down there and I volunteered." he said smoothly. Val raged inside at his comments although she would have given anything to plunge her sword into him. Ignoring him, she turned back to Moria. "Take us to the Arl."

"This way, my Lady."

_________________
Stufflikehearts - He is a Sith Lord. I love Blood Lord :3
Jeffffey - Blood, you look at the information someone says, look over what really happened, and reply in a way that makes them realize what they were really thinking.
Mythrrinthael - Blood Lord, our local expert in interpretation of The Grim Tales from Down Below!
Fievel - Numerous campaigns and conquests, countless bodies decaying after the abandonment of victorious battlefields. Such is the life of Blood Lord.
Dusk_Imp - Blood Lord is like a celebrity here. Everything he does is pure awesome. ALL HAIL BLOOD LORD
Doctress Who - Why couldn't there be a Blood Lord in every forum? It would make life so much easier.
Snafu's Mercypostle.

Denerim estate

A stone popped out in the corner of the room, and out of the darkness crawled quite a dusty dwarf. He got up, pulled his mask down and looked around as he dusted himself off with one hand and rooted in a pocket with the other, stopping when he noticed the Teryn. "Got your note." He said cheerfully, as he pulled the hand from a pocket and waved it in the air. "Whoever you got to slip it to me was good. Noticed something but by the time I realised I'd been given something rather than stolen, they'd gone." He walked briskly over to a chair and pulled it out awkwardly. "Sorry bout the entrance, but old habits. Guards, thieves, don't get along much. Plus, wanted to see if that route was true." He sat down, and strained for a moment as he pulled himself and the chair back in. Could have set up a stool for him. "And, to eavesdrop a bit admittedly, before I came in. Cause, well, not like I had no reason to be suspicious."

He eyed Bill for a moment, leaning forward to look down the table. "Bill? Dude from the bar? Small world." Then he looked at the two mages too. "And...Lalia, and Amir. Right? Nice to see you guys came too. I'm making all kinds of friends today I am. Anywho, carry on." He leaned back and put his boots up on the table. A pipe quickly followed and moments later he was puffing away and looking down the table. Waiting for the show to go on.

_________________
“One day you wake up and realize the world can be conquered.”

[Denerim Estate]

"Have you gone deaf?" Isador's shouting had made him start, but Amir hadn't backed off at it, he was used to such intimidation tactics. Instead he spread his hands out in a mocking bow, keeping a solid grip upon his staff in case the reaver lost control of himself and tried to attack. "My apologies for your loss of faculties, Black Axe. You clearly misinterpreted my words just now. I meant to call you a psychotic and a murderer rather than a liar and a rapist. And if you deny those charges then we can debate whether or not you are a liar as well."

"Amir!" Laila tugged at the cloth of her mouthy companion's robes for his attention, her eyes wide with terror as she swirled in front of him to stand between him and the former templar. Her voice was quiet, quivering with terror, but she held her ground stubbornly. "Stop making him angry! He's twice your size!" She turned to face the Black Axe, visibly shivering with intimidation, but she stood straight and looked at the giant of a man (at least compared to her minuscule frame) straight in the eyes. "Don't hurt him! Please don't hurt Amir! I know he says a lot of mean things, but he doesn't know any better." Her blue eyes watered as the clouds of tears began to form, her little hands balling into fists. "Amir and I just want to live in peace together. Is that too much to ask?" As her tears rolled down her flushed cheeks, she began to hiccup as the overflow of emotions took her over, and she wiped her eyes with the backs of her gloved hands. "Everyone's mean to us because we're mages, but we didn't ask to be born like this! Amir has always been there for me but everyone always tries to hurt him because of a few cruel words he says sometimes, but he doesn't mean it! He'd never hurt anyone! So please...hic...please don't hurt him!"

Automatically Amir's focus shifted from Isador and the possible threat that he presented to Laila's obvious and palpable distress. He put a hand on her shoulder and ushered her back behind him, unwilling to expose his best friend to any of the men in that room for very long. "Hush, Laila. I'll behave better from here on, sometimes I forget that humans are bad at hearing their unsightly truths," He murmured. Amir glared at Isador for his part in upsetting Laila so much. "Are you going to silence us for having opinions like the men you claim you're different from? And as for you," He turned to look at Marcus. "Fuck you and your ideals of saving the realm. We'll do this, but only because we have a blade hanging over our heads. We want out of this hell hole of a country that stinks of dog shit and hypocrisy."

Sniffling past the fingers covering her whimpering face, Laila nodded in agreement to Amir's argument. "All anyone does is hurt us or threaten us or try to trick us. How is this any different? With all due respect, Teryn and Knight Commander, but the presence of templars here, we've already been pushed into a corner. If we do not comply with your wishes, there is nothing stopping them from killing the both of us, or worse, snipping off our emotions like a loose thread and turning us tranquil, regardless of promises and honor." She hid behind Amir meekly, a tear-welled eye peeking out from behind his robes as she hiccuped out her woes. "T-Terribly sorry for my rudeness, but...hic...Amir's right. We'll only do this because there's a blade over our heads if we don't." John's sudden entrance startled her in the midst of this serious conversation. She jumped and hid behind Amir further, peeking out only when her name was mentioned by the rogue dwarf. The petite elf said nothing, but peered warily at the newcomer, more cautious than ever.

_________________

-- Sketch Blog -- My Art Thread -- DeviantArt --

-Denerim Estate-

Upon the dusty dwarf’s arrival Bill’s eyes drifted away from the Teryn for the briefest of moments. A small smile cracked onto the man’s face as he gave a short nod towards the dwarf. It was a bit surprising to see him at such a place, but what even surprised him further was the fact that everyone gathered here at the estate just happened to be at the bar that night. Fate was never something that Bill believed in, however there was certainly some kind of power willing these people to be gathered here. This was but a fleeting thought on the back of Bill’s mind, his primary concern was still how much he distrusted the Teryn and how volatile the situation was between everyone in the room. Bill turned his head towards Marcus for a moment, the smile gone from his face as he narrowed his eyes and nearly snarled towards the old man. Just moments ago he had asked the man for support to leave, but now he was requesting that he stay and fight for his honor?

“You should worry more about yourself old man… you can’t play peacekeeper between such a rag tag group of people, there is no way to make everyone happy…” Bill said plainly, his expression softened to a much more neutral one before he began to speak. At this point Bill didn’t answer the request, he was still fuming and needed time to think it over. He knew that Marcus needed to stop sticking his nose into other people’s business so much, he wasn’t their nanny. The armored knight started to walk slowly around the room, this time his gear made only barely noticeable noise as he moved in between the two mages and the black axe. For a moment Bill glanced at the grumpy looking black axe, then turned his head to look at the two elves that almost looked like animals trapped in a corner given the circumstances.

“I did not think the Black Axe could so easily be provoked by children… hmph” Bill didn’t even look towards the Black Axe as he spoke, instead he looked at Amir and Laila.
“Always be willing to fight in order to back up your words… If he wants to say those things, let him say them… but can you back it up? In this world the truth means nothing if you lose to someone else.” His icy eyes looked over the two mages for a moment. They were backed into a corner alright, but the fact that Amir still spoke so harshly despite their situation was somewhat impressive. Every person in that room could be against them, yet he didn’t care. The man looked back at the Teryn and walked closer to the man, stopping only a few feet away from him. His cold gaze looked directly into the Teryn's eyes.

“I just have one question for you… why do you not save the world with your own two hands?”

_________________

Through the first half of Marcus's small speech, Vovin continued to wrestle with the doubt that plagued his resolve. His mentor's words had added weight to both sides, and the pressure was starting to tear Vovin's soul in two. Luckily a distraction presented itself in the form of an argument. An argument in which his mentor and friend was merely trying to keep the peace, and his peers were being unnecessarily rude to him. Vovin stood up from the table he had been sitting at and turned fix his now piercing gaze om Amir and subsequently Bill. Although his eyes held an icy countenance, his voice was surprisingly calm and friendly. "If you want to work on avoiding being threatened, you may want to have a crack at that attitude. Mage or not, anyone who talks to Marcus that way, who is only trying to help, not only loses my respect but could also become endangered. So,friends, why don't we all just calm down and try to be reasonable about this? Vovin put his hands out in front of him slightly, palms up, and smiled sincerely to conclude this statement. Despite his hard stare, Vovin truly did not want to start a conflict. While violence was something he was skilled at, he did not think it was the best way to resolve a situation.

Instead of furthering that line of conversation, Vovin chose to turn to the Teryn and support Bill's question with "Yes, sir, why not wield your power to do this deed yourself?"

_________________

-Marcus Hammerstrike-


There was a faint twitch to Marcus' lips as he listened on. The Black Axe wasn't making it easier, though that was really not in anyways control anymore, but still. Marcus knew about the pain and suffering in the world all to well and had done his part to fix it where he could. Many former slaves worked humbly in the various workshops that he'd built in his travels, teaching them how to shape and mold metals for jewels and armor. Whats more was that he let them keep 90% of the profit that the shop made to be split between anyone who worked at it. Most forges he'd founded over the years had become wildly successful and very profitable but Marcus had never so much as touched a piece of the gold income when he eventually up and left in the middle of the night.

Helping them served to help himself as well. None would be denied the skills he'd developed at the anvil or the discipline he'd forged at the heat of the furnaces. Yet why did what the boy say get under his skin so much? An answer he would not get anytime soon most likely but for now... Something needed to be done.

"All anyone does is hurt us or threaten us or try to trick us. How is this any different? With all due respect, Teryn and Knight Commander, but the presence of templars here, we've already been pushed into a corner. If we do not comply with your wishes, there is nothing stopping them from killing the both of us, or worse, snipping off our emotions like a loose thread and turning us tranquil, regardless of promises and honor." She hid behind Amir meekly, a tear-welled eye peeking out from behind his robes as she hiccuped out her woes. "T-Terribly sorry for my rudeness, but...hic...Amir's right. We'll only do this because there's a blade over our heads if we don't."

As soon as the young girl closed her mouth he let out a laugh that shook his gut, trying invain to hold his sides to stop them from hurting. It was, infact, very funny for someone like Marcus to hear those words. He continued to laugh gently as he placed a hand on the large table infront of all of them to stop him falling over entirely. I must be going bonkers, like the Dwarf over there. The old forge master thought to himself. "Oh that's rich. Richer than any metal I've ever had the pleasure to mold or break." Marcus wiped a single tear from his right eye, his left hand still on the table. "But I must say, you're wrong in a few ways. Think of me what you want, but until you have seen me hold a weapon with a sharp edge, you will never be cut by me. "To emphasize his point, Marcus slammed his silver forge hammer into the table so hard that it split down the middle with a brief groan only to collapse in on itself. The part Marcus held was still upright, perfectly balanced. The room had gone very quiet for a brief moment as he let the other end fall to the floor in a clutter. "Who gives a wyverns festering shit why the 'good lord' chooses us to do his work. We were chosen, and innocents are at risk in this very room, as they say themselves." His comment had been forceful, he knew, maybe to much so on the display of power but some men responded to it more than words. Others needed a different approach.

His gaze turned to Amir and Laila. " Your mouth, child, will get you into a lot more trouble from people half my age and nearly a third my patience, humerous as it is. Use that head of yours a little more wisely and you might keep it where it is for another few years on your own. Think of your companion and think of your futures. The only one I see in this room holding a blade over your necks is the fear in that pile of mush you call a spine. Like it or not, I will help you and see you safe. Even if I need to snap a host of templars over my wrinkly old knee to do it." Marcus' stern gaze swepped across everyone in the room before finally locking onto Bills. [color=#0080FF]"I ask you this, just once, Bill. March with me, and not for the sake of some dainty lord sniveling behind his walls. March with me because it is the right thing." A few strides took the smith directly next to Bill. It was there he whispered something he hoped would get the powerful and imposing stone knight on board.

_________________
"But when one of it's baby chicks is in trouble, Momma comes a run'nin' and a squawkin and a run'nin''." -General Treistar

DENERIM: Teryn Cousland.

The Teryn stood by and watched the gathering unfold. He waited for the talking to cease before he would answer the questions. They had good points, he admitted to himself. Although the mages' consistent paranoia over the Templars was starting to get on him, but he understood a little. All mages have lived in fear over the power of the Templars, seeing them would be unsettling. Both sides needed to learn to trust each other if they wanted to survive. Especially this little company. Marcus seemed to understand though, and that was a good thing. This little company needed a leader, a voice of reason. They all stunk of fear, despite their brave words and anger management issues, they were afraid. And that gave him confidence, but some concern as well. Perhaps he had accelerated his plans too fast, and should have let them naturally take their course. Nevertheless, he would extend a backdoor and see what happens.

"John, welcome to the party," he said to the dwarf. "Thank you for coming."


Cousland shook his head sadly. "Gentlemen, I am working on this problem as well. But from my own set of skills and talents. I am a politician and a strategist, not a warrior. I don't care what you think of that, the world isn't made up of warriors, nor are we all Qunari. Each of us have our own unique set of skills an talents. Some of us can command the wind, earth, and fire. Others have no match on the battlefield, on the forge, in the dark, or in a council. Those skills must be brought to bear.

I did in fact bring you all here, didn't I? Make no mistake. I'm not here to hire you for my dirty work. I am here to unite those that Fate has chosen to save this world. You have skills I don't, nor can I have. I have resources that you don't have, no could possibly have in time. These things I have made to offer you for your services, could be considered rewards, not payment. why did I do that? Well, as was pointed out, most of you are fugitives and mercenaries. You don't work for free, and by the time you would have worked for free it would have been too late to do anything."


"My dear Laila," replied the Teryn. "There is no blade hanging over you, the Knight Commander nor any of his Templars are here for you two or to encourage you two to choose. They are here for a different purpose, to aid me with other functions right now, more important than you two. They have their own impressive set of network connections, and are helping me with the Elven conflict at the moment." The Knight Commander nodded in confirmation.

"In fact," continued the Teryn. "You and Amir do not have to be here at all. You can leave, any of you can leave if you want. You will not be hunted or lead into a trap by me out of spit. BUT, you will have to continue to lead your life in fear, always moving, always being hunted. You two might be able to put the Templars off for a while, but they will find you and kill you, or something worse will should all of this fail. This is your chance, perhaps the only chance either of you will ever have in this God forsaken world for the peace you want. To never live in fear of being hunted by the Chantry, to be able to stay in one place and open a shop up if you want to. These papers will work, my dears, do not doubt that."

_________________
Stufflikehearts - He is a Sith Lord. I love Blood Lord :3
Jeffffey - Blood, you look at the information someone says, look over what really happened, and reply in a way that makes them realize what they were really thinking.
Mythrrinthael - Blood Lord, our local expert in interpretation of The Grim Tales from Down Below!
Fievel - Numerous campaigns and conquests, countless bodies decaying after the abandonment of victorious battlefields. Such is the life of Blood Lord.
Dusk_Imp - Blood Lord is like a celebrity here. Everything he does is pure awesome. ALL HAIL BLOOD LORD
Doctress Who - Why couldn't there be a Blood Lord in every forum? It would make life so much easier.
Snafu's Mercypostle.

Denerim-Estate

Isador kept his eyes on the elf who had insulted him until his female counterpart stepped in front, pleading to leave the pup alone. It was a pathetic spectacle, once Isador would have felt pity for the girl; but such behavior simply made a person easier to prey upon. Before he could speak his peace the stone warrior came between him and the mages. If Isador were a fool he may have pushed back with his own insult but he had work to be about; that and his spear wound had opened again from hacking his axe in to the table. Blood could be seen running down his side through his armor in a disturbing amount but Strauss gave no look of pain. He waved over the Teryn’s healer who had been too afraid to approach him while he was shouting at the elf pup and let her be about her work as he picked up his axe from the ruined table.

As he did the others all seemed to have their own words for the mages, including the strange dwarf who came out of the wall. Something seemed….strangely familiar about the old blacksmith and his hammer that smashed the table, but Isador couldn’t tell if he had met him before. The memories of his early days as a Reaver were shattered fragments from the massive lyrium withdrawals he had suffered. The old man’s laugh reminded him of his days as a Templar, when his laughter didn’t spark fear in others. His mouth twitched slightly, forming a grin as Marcus lectured the mage about running his mouth; Isador couldn’t have said it better himself. He looked to Marcus after he finished speaking and nodded slightly. The man had wisdom and only a young fool failed to see the value in such a man.

The Teryn gave his reasons to those who asked for them but Isador didn’t listen, the man’s reasons were not his concern only that his terms were met and he was paid. “Enough of this prattle, if we are to take this job than let’s be about it!” The Black Axe looked to those gathered. “The only one here who has yet to answer is the thief and I doubt his moral fiber will make him say no.” He gave them all a level look. “There is ground to cover and blood to be spilled….and the Black Axe is getting thirsty.” He said, grinning and resting his wicked axe over his shoulder as the healer began to fix his wound.

John kept on puffing as the debate went on. Load of muscle headed warriors getting angry and all alpha male. Same in the Dust city, same here. Ah well, may as well see if he could make friends. He slipped off his chair and walked around to the back of it. Knees bent, he picked it up, waddled forward and sprang up onto the table. Nimble as he was, there was some clatter from the cutlery, but, he scuttled over the table, hopped off and scurried over anyway. He put the seat down, sat down comfortably. Grinning warmly at the pair before eyed Isador. He rooted in his pockets for a moment, then chucked an iron flask at the black axe, full of stuff he'd normally reserve for spiking drinks when forcing someone under the table, or if he felt bored, but the big guy could probably handle it. "In case anyone is wondering, my moral fiber doesn't have any objections. Could use a holiday. Nice to see foreign lands. Rob new people. Specially if I'm being paid for it." He leaned some emphasis on the last few words. Then, realising something, he slid off the chair. He rooted around in his pockets again, then flourished out a handkerchief, reasonably clean. "Hanky?" he offered to Laila. His other hand beckoning to the empty seat as he smiled widely. Quite a sight to those unfamiliar with dwarfs.

_________________
“One day you wake up and realize the world can be conquered.”

Denerim Estate

The little elf peered at Marcus in terror and mouthed a weak apology to him, though her voice seemed to have failed her when he smashed some innocent furniture. As far as she was concerned, the violent act proved the opposite of his point; what kept him from smashing her as easily as that table? She turned her attention to John. Laila took the handkerchief from the suspicious dwarf with wary hesitation, nodding and mumbling a humble “thank you” with her head lowered, making sure her bags were hidden under her cloak the whole time. She patted the kerchief to her eyes and handed the cloth back to its owner, but shook her head at his gracious offer of a seat. She didn’t trust John in the least, him being a rogue and all, but at least he was more polite than the others. “T-Thank you, b-but I’ll stand for now.” She inched closer to Amir ever further, keeping their bags between her and her guardian in case the rogue indulged in greedier whims. It was as if the closer Amir was to her the more courage she could wean from him; the little elf girl didn’t seem ready to leave his side anytime soon.

These men all seemed to think more with their weapons than their heads it seemed, though the little healer hiding behind the mouthy blood mage was far to meek to voice that thought aloud. Laila softly spoke out behind Amir with a voice as tiny as her stature, peeking out at the Teryn with a fearful gaze. "E-Excuse me, Teryn. We will agree to go on this mission, b-but…um…not to offend, but despite your claim that there is no blade hanging over our heads, you've put us in a position where if we go on your mission, we may die, but if we do not, we will most certainly die. If you truly had good intentions for us from the start, truly needed us for this prophecy, and even truly believed this prophecy at all…w-well…those documents you hold would have already been signed in good faith, and we would have been more at ease in following along on this game." Laila took a little breath as all the talking was straining her weak lungs, and she clung to Amir's robes desperately as she continued. "I don't know what your true intentions are, ser, but these other men may take offense to these sorts of methods."

She peered around the room at the men in the room, most of which were keen on lecturing Amir on his attitude. Laila sighed; a sharp tongue and cynical tone was what made Amir what he was. She had long ago ceased any attempt to change that, as all her efforts were fruitless in the end. "If we are to do as you say, I would like to make a reasonable request on behalf of us all. In exchange for signing the documents you hold in front of us right now, a warm meal and warm beds, on top of horses and provisions for battle and plenty of potions and medical equipment, Amir and I will agree to attend to this mission of yours. Amir and I have been running and hiding for a long time, and it has been a good while since we have had any true respite. I am most certain the rest of these men can use it, seeing as many of them have just come out of fights and fire. Speaking as an experienced healer, some of their injuries require rest to properly mend. Magic can only do so much. Traveling now would only reopen wounds." She eyed the other healer in the room, the attractive one with appallingly mediocre skills. Laila wanted desperately to give the poor dear some advice on all the things she was doing wrong, basic things, but she made a mental note to let the woman know of her failings more discreetly later. Laila didn’t want to be rude, after all. "If we are to be in top form for your mission, it is imperative that we rest while we can before we leave should you wish this quest to be successful."

_________________

-- Sketch Blog -- My Art Thread -- DeviantArt --

-Denerim: Estate-

“Any man who sends others to die in their stead has no balls between their legs, skills or not if you aren’t willing to risk your own life then why should…” Bill stopped mid sentence as he spoke to Cousland, his eye twitched slightly as he turned to face Marcus. This was the only person in the room that Bill knew anything about, in fact he might have even gone as far as to say that he respected the old man’s stubbornness. He listened well as Marcus spoke to him, his eyes staring him down as he allowed every last word to sink into his thick skull. Bill shook his head, rubbing his eyes as he clearly showed disgust in the current situation.
“You stupid… bloody old bastard…”

It was obvious that whatever Marcus had whispered to Bill had not settled well with the man. His blue eyes looked around the room for a moment, glancing at each one of the people who were ‘chosen by fate’.
“Fine… but Marcus… after we’re done with this, I don’t ever want to see your ugly face bother me again… understand?” Bill said, his face neutral and calm. This was Marcus’ problem, yet Bill owed a debt to the man and couldn’t over look such a thing. Aside from not liking Cousland, Bill’s impatience and stubbornness were the only things that kept him from accepting the offer up until that point. Marcus was as close to a friend as Bill would allow, which put him in a dangerous spot. Bill turned back to face the Teyrn, his face bearing a forced smile upon it as he looked at the man.
“I’ll do it…“

_________________

[Upon the road]

The young Templar had been traveling for quite some time, but he could not complain, the beauty of Ferelden's countryside was a deeply pleasant site to a boy who had been cloistered within the high walls of the Chantry for much of his life. The sound of bird songs carrying on the warm country air was a pleasure Varidius cherished and his thoughts often drifted towards owning a bird of his own. He had been traveling with a merchant's wagon out of mutual convenience, having joined the troupe of colourfully clothed peddlers in Denerim and found them a cheerful sort filled with interesting tales of far off places within the realm and many bawdy jokes. Varidius found himself grateful for the company and the merchants found his sword a comfort. Whether through luck or the blessed sign of a more peaceful time there had been no trouble upon the roads, but little was expected. There was strife brewing in the kingdom, but the vultures had yet to circle.

As a fork in the road loomed up ahead it had come time to part ways. This is where Varidius' tale begins. After bidding his travel companions farewell and pleasant journeys, and being pleasantly surprised by the huge hugs he received and boisterous goodbyes (writing the farewell embraces off to a cultural quirk), Varidius now set off on his own, thoughts turning to less pleasant matters.

The Circle had fallen silent before, he had heard, and the results were not good. Even as he mulled over the possibilities, the notion of right of annulment being invoked caused a twist in his stomach. While he held a hatred for apostates, the Magi of The Circle were under the protection of the Templars. Like the bird in a cage Varidius so longed for, he wondered to himself if he, when tasked to, would be able to take the lives of those he had heretofore defended. This internal conflict carried him far along the road, but near the end he felt reassured. He would place is faith within the Knight-Commander and by extension his family, the Templars. He found himself prepared for what he would face, side-by-side with his brothers. He believed that whatever action the Knight-Commander ordered, it would be just and right, and for the betterment of all.

Steeled in his faith, the young Templar traveled on ahead, unaware of how childish and naive his reassurances were. He would not be prepared for the horrors he would face, nor the atrocities he would be ordered to commit.

[Still traveling along the roads, it would be a while before Varidius met the rest of the intrepid adventurers. But life could be fickle, and journeys were rarely straight forward. Something may yet turn him from his path.]

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Horror Roleplayer
"I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men."
Summoner Name: Owlcat, EU servers.

Denerim - Teryn Cousland.

The Teryn thought briefly for a moment over the young mage's request. He had wanted them to move fast and get things rolling as far away from him as possible, but they had taken a heavier hit than he had thought with the events that happened at the bar. Surely a small delay such as this wouldn't cause too much of an issue. He might have to move out though.

"Very well," he replied with a smile. "Lady Laila's requests will be granted. Warm food has been provided, and the east wing is being prepped for those that wish to stay as we speak. Horses, provisions, and other supplies are being gathered as well. As for me signing the documents right now, I can but you will receive them when you leave. Any other requests?"

A servant came over carrying a square board with a quill and ink, and the Teryn got busy signing the documents that would lead to freedom and peace for these "heroes" of Fereldin.

_________________
Stufflikehearts - He is a Sith Lord. I love Blood Lord :3
Jeffffey - Blood, you look at the information someone says, look over what really happened, and reply in a way that makes them realize what they were really thinking.
Mythrrinthael - Blood Lord, our local expert in interpretation of The Grim Tales from Down Below!
Fievel - Numerous campaigns and conquests, countless bodies decaying after the abandonment of victorious battlefields. Such is the life of Blood Lord.
Dusk_Imp - Blood Lord is like a celebrity here. Everything he does is pure awesome. ALL HAIL BLOOD LORD
Doctress Who - Why couldn't there be a Blood Lord in every forum? It would make life so much easier.
Snafu's Mercypostle.

-Marcus Hammerstrike-



This Teryn seems far to compliant for a mission of this magnitude, regardless of if we need to rest or not.. Something smells and it isn't my shoes. Marcus thought to himself, careful not to look as concerned about the sudden hospitality than he would normally have been. Still, to the old forgemaster it seemed as good a time as any to catch up on something he had not done for a long time. Work. If there was any to be done, atleast. Either way it was all a waste of time. Had Vovin not raised his hand to go on this little journey, Marcus would not have had to call his favor in to the stone soldier so early. He'd honestly meant to part ways in the coming days and leave the debt unpaid between them. Marcus did what Marcus did for his own little whim, never any real profit. Still.. It hurt to see the stone soldier so offended but that was life.
Marcus protected what was his.

Marcus turned to face the Teryn as he busily signed the papers. "D'you have a forge by some odd chance? Maybe in the back of the yards or something like that. Work needs to be done, wounds or not. A few of these companions have wounds that cannot be tended with anything but a hammer," Glancing over his shoulder to give an up and down glance at Laila and her protector Amir, taking careful measure of their sizes. "There are also a few that do not wear anything that could stop a blade if the magic goes down the tubes. I mean to fix that if possible."

_________________
"But when one of it's baby chicks is in trouble, Momma comes a run'nin' and a squawkin and a run'nin''." -General Treistar

Vovin was glad that the situation had defused. If the group was going to go on this quest together, then it would help if they were not vying to cut each other's heads off every step of the way. Vovin had looked with curiosity when Marcus had whispered to Bill. Did the old man know everyone in Denerim? He thought to himself with an inner chuckle. Vovin was surprised, however, when the stone knight reacted so viciously. What could possibly have passed between the two? Perhaps Vovin would ask about it later. As it stood now, he did not have much to do but wait around for the night, perhaps interact with some of the other adventurers. He was curious as to the story behind the unlikely mage duo, and he also wanted to apologize for the somewhat harsh words earlier. So that was where he started. After the Teryn spoke, he approached to two. With a slightly nervous tone, but a smile nonetheless, Vovin began.

"Ahem, excuse me. My name is Vovin Dranis, and I would like to apologize for my tone earlier. You see, I get defensive of those who are close to me, and Marcus and I go way back. So again, I am sorry if I offended or upset you in anyway. If you do not mind, I am curious as to your story. I do not know a lot about mages, only that they lead very different lives from people who cannot wield magic."

_________________

Denerim-Estate

As Isador waved off the healer when he work was finished he quickly caught the flask that John chucked at him. He took a whiff of its contents-it smelled strong-then looked to the dwarf, raised the flask and gave him a respectful nod before taking a long drink. By Andraste’s tits that’s strong! He thought as he wiped his chin and noticed he was much close to being drunk then he was a few seconds ago. A smaller man would most likely been on the ground before the flask left his lips, but Isador had raised more than his fair share of tankards of ale in his travels. “My thanks” He said before tossing the flask back to John and turn to head for the east wing. “If we are not to leave this day then so be it, my axe needs sharpening after cleaving through so much stone armor.”

As he moved towards the wing prepared for his party a servant came up to him to show him to his chambers. The woman showed no sign of concern for escorting him which he found pleasing, the lass took her job seriously. As he entered the corridor Strauss remembered the little mage’s pathetic, crying face….but this time….it gave him pause. Had he seen a girl cry like that before? Demons take the blasted chantry for destroying his memory with so much lyrium! Suddenly a memory came to mind that stopped him in his tracks, the memory of a scared, crying little girl.

“Please don’t take me back! I can’t go back to those scary men!” The little girl cried out, squirming in Isador’s grip as he lifted her out of the boat and on to the Island of the Circle tower. “I am sorry little one, I must follow my orders; the Maker has given me the task of bringing back those that have gone astray.” He said with a resolute tone; this was his duty and that was that. “Please no! Don’t let them take me!” She screamed as Isador’s brothers came out from the tower to meet them, his commanding officer in front. The memory faded as they took the girl and Isador found himself shaking with…fear?...no….regret.

Isador howled with rage; rage for his traitorous brothers, rage for being such a fool for so many years….rage for condemning an innocent child to tranquility…or death. Balling his hands into fists he went to his knees and slammed them into the ground over and over until his rage subsided. He looked down at the floor for a few moments, clarity returning as he saw the cracks in the stone he had left and took a deep breath. He stood to find the servant who had before shown no sign of anxiousness toward him was now backed against the wall, eyes wide with terror. “I seem to have had too much to drink.” He said as he went to his chambers and sat by the window for a good long time before taking out a whetstone and began to sharpen his axe while humming a tune he had once heard the children of the tower sing.

--[Arriving at Lake Calenhad]--

Though his journey had been long, Varidius found his eagerness growing the closer he came to his destination, finding a giddy-second wind on the final stretch of road leading to the ever still waters surrounding the Mage's Tower. After taking a moment to get his bearings, the young templar began searching through the nearest encampment for any signs of life, politely greeting anyone he may meet and informing them of his purpose: to meet with the Knight-Commander in answer to his call for aid.

_________________
Horror Roleplayer
"I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men."
Summoner Name: Owlcat, EU servers.

-Denerim Estate-

It would have seemed that Bill went to all the trouble of getting his armor on for nothing, it was a pity really. His blood had been fired up ever since the bar fight, seeing any of his former allies tended to do that anyways. Now that everything had been settled and everyone was on board for the mission there wasn’t much to do but kill time before they left. It was a good thing though, he was a bit tired and several of the deeper wounds did still ache quite a bit. He wouldn’t have minded though, he’s had worse injuries before and did just fine with those. But a brief rest could only do but some good for the man. The large, stone clad knight walked around the room, his eyes glancing over at Vovin for a moment as he approached the two mages. Those little elves sure were popular, though Bill figured it was much to their dislike. Being on the run as fugitives probably meant that they would have rather had much less attention, though that meant Bill wasn’t going to bother them any further than he already.

He walked around the table and stopped next to the Dwarf, John. He looked down at the Dwarf for a moment, then to a chair that was next to him, then down at his armor, then back to the chair.
“Bloody hell… I’m not that ballsy to try it…” he said as he shook his head, opting to stand for the moment.
“Oi, Dwarf…” Bill grabbed one of the wine bottles that was sitting on the table.
“It may not be on my coin, but we do have drinks. And I owe ya from back in the ring.” He said, a slight smirk crossing his face.
“But I have to ask… I knew back at the pit that you weren’t a fighter, so why would ya take this offer from some rich prick to go out an fight to save the world? I just can’t seem to figure it out.”

_________________

Marcus Hammerstrike - Denerim estate
(In for the long haul)



The Teryn regarded Marcus with his usual smile, still it somehow seemed a bit forced but perhaps that was the mind playing tricks in this particular case. "Why of course. There is a smithy set up just outside the house. It's not been used in weeks so I apologize for the dust, should I send a servant to clean it for your arrival while you rest?" He spoke sincerely it seemed, but there was that nagging sensation.
"I appreciate the gesture but I'd rather do it myself. A servant has no place in a fires temple." With that, Marcus turned and followed his guide but stopped when he overheard Bills question. "Bill. Sometimes it is those who do not fight well that fight harder than any. Everyone has a purpose." He gave the armoured knight a heavy pat on the shoulder before whispering to him, "keep your hand on your pouches." A sly wink and he kept walking, giving the dwarf a nod before making sure all his pouches were still there.

Marcus made one last little detour before going to the forge. He stopped by the two mages and Vovin, giving the young knight a soft half-smile hidden behind his hood then turned to the mages. "I hope you did not get the wrong message earlier. True to my word, I will see you safe. Through strength of arm, cost and coin, and a gift I hope to finish later. Would that I could whisk away your troubles and angers but I can't. All I ask is a moment of your time later this night at the forge round back. You won't be hated for not wanting to show." Marcus gave what could only be described as an apologetic bow, and addressed Vovin. "Stay safe, s- pupil," he corrected quickly, "We'll meet in the mornings at the gate. If your armor or weapon need tending let me know." He gave the boy a nod and departed the room with his guide, not bothering to hear any responses. He'd talked and blustered to much this day and it took a tool all it's own. His only speech should be hammer on anvil. Working tirelessly at the only thing in his life he'd ever tried to appreciate. Only one other thing mattered to him as dearly as the heat and noise of the forge, but he was to proud and far to embarrassed about how he'd come to it.

-later in the night; forge-
(Keeping in mind, no time of day was ever established. I assumed he started around 2-3pm and finished around 5am.)

It had taken an hour or so to clean the dusted forge and arrange the equipment to his liking, but it was time not wasted. He'd sent word through a carrier raven in the manor to a local smithie asking for ingredients, by the time he'd cleaned up they had arrived and been paid.
A good deal of fine obsidian steel had arrived, along with coal for the forge. He lit the great hearth earlier and let the fire grow wild with wood and other things he'd found, but now it was fed right and all but roared to life in the dim of night. The forge was far in the back of the castle, the light could be seen and the shadow of someone inside but not much else, considering the fact that Marcus had not so much as entered the room set aside for his personal use was a clear sign who occupied the smithy now.

"Right then. Where did I leave those blasted things." He spoke of the ring molds needed for his project, similar to what he wore. Finding it wasn't hard and he set off with the skill and familiarity brought by years of practice. It didn't take long for the steel to melt, but it took what seemed like endless toiling getting the steel to a perfect point that it became harder than anything sold in the markets. Carefully he melted the iron into fine obsidian rings and pictured the two mages perfectly in his head. He didn't have the measurement needed to be 100% accurate but that wouldn't be a problem, he'd done this for years and could tell a persons measurement with a rough glance.

Over the course of the day and well into the night he worked to replace the rings on two chainmail shits he'd ordered from the supplier in town and then ring by ring, Marcus took out a large amount of rings in the front of the shirts to be replaced by fine black obsidian. When it was finished, he tested each one with a quick thrust of the small blade he'd found in the forge, and took a sword from the rack to give the rings a good smack and a good couple of stabs before examining them. Barely a scratch from anything. Arrows might fair better if they were the long thin bolts instead of the wide-bladed ones commonly used, but that was a problem that couldn't be solved with ringmail.
If the two mages didn't show up to claim the gift, he'd go find them. For now, he sat his back to a wall and simple put his foot on the nearby anvil, as comfortable as of he'd been resting on a featherbed.

_________________
"But when one of it's baby chicks is in trouble, Momma comes a run'nin' and a squawkin and a run'nin''." -General Treistar

Denerim Estate.

The Teryn's men began to fill the room and mingle as well. The official soldiers wore the uniform of Highever, but there were many unofficial troops there as well, such as the Templars. One of them, the Knight-Captain Gregor, worked his way out of the hall and down to the guest hall where he had seen Isador go. Gentle, he rapped his armor gauntlet against the door, and pushed it open. "Ser Isador? I was wondering if I could have a moment to speak with you?"

***

The Teryn's men had cracked open a large container of ale, and musical instruments began to emerge. Soon the great hall was filled with the sounds of laughter and song. A pair of mages wandered through the room, checking on things and stopping to talk here and there. The templars that were still left in the room eyed them suspiciously, but soon shrugged the matter off, and also began to disperse within the group.


Lake Calenhad

"You there, ser!" yelled an old man. Bent with age, he hobbled after the freshly arrived Templar. "Are you Ser Varidius?"

_________________
Stufflikehearts - He is a Sith Lord. I love Blood Lord :3
Jeffffey - Blood, you look at the information someone says, look over what really happened, and reply in a way that makes them realize what they were really thinking.
Mythrrinthael - Blood Lord, our local expert in interpretation of The Grim Tales from Down Below!
Fievel - Numerous campaigns and conquests, countless bodies decaying after the abandonment of victorious battlefields. Such is the life of Blood Lord.
Dusk_Imp - Blood Lord is like a celebrity here. Everything he does is pure awesome. ALL HAIL BLOOD LORD
Doctress Who - Why couldn't there be a Blood Lord in every forum? It would make life so much easier.
Snafu's Mercypostle.

-Denerim Estate-

"You're a "hero"" Stumpy fingers quoted the air. "Or at least look the type, so I'm sure you know about all the tales and legends of great heroes going on valiant quests and all. Do you want me to tell you what they all have in common?" He stood up on the chair and leaned off conspiratorially to Bill. "Loot. Oodles and oodles of loot in far flung and exotic places a city thief like me would normally never get to." He grinned wickedly as he leaned back and sat down. "The nice fat commission his lordship promised me helped too. Specially since he paid half in advance. That's why I took that offer from the very, rich prick." Johnus grabbed a wine bottle and poured it back, slowly until it was vertical, and empty. "Mercury, that'll smooth things along." He said roughly, wiping his beard daintily with a handkerchief. "He is paying you for this, right?"

_________________
“One day you wake up and realize the world can be conquered.”

--[Lake Calenhad]--

The young templar stood to attention before the elderly man, his heavy armour clinking loudly at the movement.

"That I am," Varidius responded automatically. "You know my name, are you part of the Knight-Commander's camp, then? I am to see him."

_________________
Horror Roleplayer
"I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men."
Summoner Name: Owlcat, EU servers.

Denerim-Estate

The rasping of metal on metal filled the room as Isador continued to sharpen his axe. He stopped only for a second as someone came in to his room. With a glance back he returned to his work, his eyes watching the reflection in the mirror. “You of all people should know that I’m no longer a Ser…” He said, inspecting the blade of his axe. The stone armor of those mercenaries was something his precious weapon had not come across before; he would have to go for the beheading strike more often if he encountered more. “I will warn you Templar…..you will only find the truth in here.” He stood, spitting upon the whetstone, turned his chair to face the door then took his sit, sharpening his axe while staring the Templar in the eye. “What do you want….”

- Streets of Redcliffe-

Shortly after locating the closest inn in sight, Zasalim made a quick scan of the crowd for the iconic silver armor of the templars. He knew the state of magical affairs outside of the forests and wanted no part of the quarrel between the mages and their leash holders. He was a free mage or an apostate as the Wardens had explained it to him. He was also not a Warden and even worse, the very thing everyone was so afraid of; the notorious Blood Mage or a maleficar. Though he wasn't branded as such and most wouldn't guess he was a mage by appearance alone, he still aired on the side of caution when interacting with the shemlen. He didn't carry himself as many city elves did and that alone pissed some people off; not to mention his features and equipment were distinctly of elven origin.

When he was confident the coast was clear he proceeded to make a b-line into the crowd and toward the inn. He could almost taste the mutton stew whose fragrant smell lofted in the breeze among the rustle and bustle of the crowded streets. He then remembered why he was so eager to leave Orzammar, he was down to his last sovereigns and had his eyes set on a gift for him mother back home. He debated getting a room for the night, but at the end of his deliberations he decided the wood would be his shelter tonight, but the mutton was still on the menu.

_________________
My Poetry and More!

Denerim Estate with Isador.

The Templar Captain shrugged, and leaned on the door way. "Despite what you say, there are many of us in the Order who still look up to you. You were a paragon to the Order, and an inspiration to many... Still are as well." He paused for a minute to let the words sink in and carefully choose his next words. "What I want to know is what happened, from you. I know what the Chantry claimed to have happened, but I want to hear it from the mouth of the Black Axe himself."

Lake Calenhad



The old man hobbled up to the Templar and looked up at him, he had piercing blue eyes that appeared to search a soul as he studied the Templar.

"Hmm, yes... I see him in you, your father. He would have been so proud to see how his boy grew up into such a strong young man," replied the old man with a smile. "I knew your father, many years ago. He was a good man... and a good friend. You may call me Antonidas, Ser Hollander. I am a servant to Commander Tirion. He sent me to escort you to his camp."

Valmyria Windstrider - Redcliffe Castle

Valmyria followed her guide through the castle, and kept her cloak about her, and the hood up. She noted guard placement, and the activity around them as they winding through the main keep to the back. "The Arl is with his War Council in the gardens," reported her captain as they stopped at a heavy wooden door. "they just started."

Valmyria pushed the door open and allowed the breeze to gentle tug at her cloak. The gardens were beautiful, a true wonder to behold, but what caught her attention was the arguing under the stone gazebo.

"-too few in numbers to be able to hold troops in a position like that and maintain our own defenses!" argued a rather large man. "We can not commit this many troops to Ostagard in the middle of the season without solid proof."

"We must prepare our defenses though" replied a slender, middle aged man.

"Against what? There isn't an enemy out there, just rumors and fear."

"There is something moving out there, we just can't see it yet," countered a fairly young man. "We have to be rea-"

"Are you mad?" shrieked the large man. "There isn't anything out there. We need solid proof or else Redcliffe is going to fall just as Fereldin is. The people aren't going to stand for us mobilizing out of a rumor. they are going to see it as a means of us flexing our muscles in response to these "Peasant Rebellions" that are starting to pop up. We need to focus on this problem which is real. Also the Elves and the Wardens-"

"Enough!" commanded a figure still in his chair. He had on simple clothes, but the red sword of Redcliffe hung by his side. The man appeared to be well fit, but had flecks of grey in his hair. Although he still walked and held himself as a young man and full of energy, it could be seen that his glory days are about to come to an end. "I have summoned you here to work this out, not bicker... it seems as if we have company anyways." He rose and greeted the small group with a bow.

"My Lady Windstrider," he said. "I am pleased to have the advise and council of the Wardens here at this time. Tell me, will Commander Lothar be coming up soon?"

Valmyria forced a smile and bowed."I'm afraid not, I will be here representing the Wardens."

"Hmm," said the Arl with his brow furrowed. "Very well then, come, you and your Wardens are invited to join us. We could use fresh opinions and new perspectives. Allow me to introduce you to my councilors. This large man is Relind Arlsong, Bann of Honnleath. Here is Justin Relvance, son of Bann Relvance of Rainesfere, who is representing his father today. That slender fellow is is Bann Carl Worthington of Lothering, and the silent fellow is General Warfeild of the Redcliffe Army."

The Arl turned and looked at the Warden-Commander's companions. "I'm sorry, I know a little of Lady Windstrider here, but who are you fine gentlemen?"

The general glanced over at Arvashok. "Hmm, a Qunari. It's about time we had a skilled warrior present."

_________________
Stufflikehearts - He is a Sith Lord. I love Blood Lord :3
Jeffffey - Blood, you look at the information someone says, look over what really happened, and reply in a way that makes them realize what they were really thinking.
Mythrrinthael - Blood Lord, our local expert in interpretation of The Grim Tales from Down Below!
Fievel - Numerous campaigns and conquests, countless bodies decaying after the abandonment of victorious battlefields. Such is the life of Blood Lord.
Dusk_Imp - Blood Lord is like a celebrity here. Everything he does is pure awesome. ALL HAIL BLOOD LORD
Doctress Who - Why couldn't there be a Blood Lord in every forum? It would make life so much easier.
Snafu's Mercypostle.