Despite the seemingly surprise nature of Marcus's attack, Vovin was all to familiar with this form of greeting. The grin on his face only widened, his mind and body had already reached out to the fade before he had even finished addressing Marcus and old man's blindingly fast attack had been prepared for. Just as Marcus was turning and Vovin's muscles were coiling to jump back, he felt something. Time seemed to slow down for a moment, the grin vanishing from the young warrior's face as he processed the feeling that had just nudged him. However subtle it may have been, it was still enough of a distraction to nearly end the fight before it began. Luckily Vovin snapped back to attention and completed his fade-sped retreat. As his feet touched the ground a few meters back he noticed that Marcus was holding nothing back. In that case neither would he! With brief roar that did not sound quite human, Vovin too was the epicenter of a blast of light. The differences between the two quickly became apparent. While Marcus's cloak was a flaming red, Vovin's spirit cloak was a blazing orange. The fade blessing shimmered and flickered around his entire body, but that was not the imposing feature. Various parts of the cloak took on a more solid form at different points on Vovin's body. His hands shimmered with ethereal draconic claws that mimicked every movement of said hands. Two transparent horns swept back from his skull, seeming to grow right out of his scalp. A ghostly tail occasionally swished into existence behind the spirit warrior. But the most impressive feature was the wings. Two spectral dragon wings fanned out from Vovin's back, each easily longer than the he was tall. To the average onlooker, Vovin had all but transformed into some half dragon monster. The more learned observer would note that, while intimidating, these visual changes actually had no physical effect on Vovin; they would do less to stop a blade than bare skin would. Luckily for Vovin, his abilities did not stem from such a thing.

With speed easily as impressive as Marcus's, Vovin drew the longsword from his back and met every swing of his mentor's hammers with a parry of his own. If the speed at which Marcus swung his hammers was breathtaking, then the ease at which Vovin swung his heavy sword would be astounding. Not a single one of Marcus's strikes found purchase, leaving any onlookers in the dark as to the effectiveness of Vovin's spiky black armor. Vovin himself had wondered which of Marcus's crafts would win in a battle against each other - Weapon or Armor craft. It appeared that the question would remain unanswered for the time being, as Vovin had no intention of letting Marcus land a hit. However, despite the ferocity of their combat, a trained eye would notice that Vovin's attempts to strike Marcus back were halfhearted at best. In the flurry of the battle, Vovin's mind flashed back to the first time Marcus had abruptly attacked him upon visiting. They had barely exchanged greetings before Vovin found himself on the receiving end of a silver hammer strike. He had been quick to defend himself, but even then and every duel after, Vovin had never been able to bring himself strike Marcus like he meant it. Marcus was, for all intents and purposes, family to Vovin, and his body simply could not hurt him like that. It was a weakness of the mind that Vovin cursed, but it was there nonetheless and it had not changed in the recent years. The best he hoped for was to disarm or tire Marcus, and purely from experience he knew the latter would take all day. It had once. That had been a good fight.

Vovin snapped back to attention in time to dodge Marcus's great swing. His reminiscing had almost cost him the battle and he had to shield his eyes from the debris that his mentor's strike had kicked up. However, he now saw his chance. With a blindingly fast swing of his sword, Vovin sent an arcing slice of flaming spiritual energy at the now airborne hammers, knocking them out of Marcus's reach. Almost before he had even finished the swing he was dashing forward. It was time to see who was faster, if Vovin had timed things right Marcus would just be lifting his war hammer. Vovin brought his sword down with incredible speed and strength on the shaft of his mentor's war hammer, near the head of the mighty weapon, effectively pinning in to the ground unless Marcus reacted in time. If this attempt was successful, Vovin would follow up with a sharp kick to Marcus's chest in an attempt to push him away from his hammer, disarm him, and end the fight in Vovin's favor. If this failed, well, the two would be back where they started.

_________________

-Marcus Hammerstrike-


Both hammers sent flying, and the great hammer in his hands would likely be pinned by Vovin in an attempt to gain an edge. Typical. Most of the time in a fight, Marcus would rely on the bulk of his hammers to give him the advantage he needed on an enemy, but that didn't mean he couldn't defend himself without them. Vovin blocking his hammer was all planned out.
Marcus had to be fast on this to work.

Mid swing downward of Vovins sword and Marcus pounced on sheer intuition. Instead of bringing the hammer up to try and overpower the swing or simply dodge back and regain some measure of footing, Marcus simply used the blade as an axis point, up went the opposite side of the hammer to crack against Vovins head. Normally a strike like that would be nothing to someone wearing the heavy armor that his opponent was, but not a lot of people knew how to use the soulbrand. Defense against Marcus was a wasted effort.

With a grunt the old man finished his attack with a great THUMP of his iron hand against the side of Vovins head, knocking the young warrior back and loosing the heavy blade.

The dust settled moments later to reveal the elderly blacksmith brandishing both the giants hammer and the greatsword in an X without the slightest of problems.

"Fought well, Vovin. You've come a long way. But you're holding back." Vovins greatsword streaked through the air to plant blade tip first into the dirt next to the dragon knight. "What if an enemy takes my appearance? What if I am possessed? Hesitation and fear are the split second between a dead enemy and an unsavory defeat." Marcus was harsh, his voice stern and commanding, but there was an unexplained softness behind it. Subtle, but very much there. "I might be old but I can take a hit from a young punk like you or Bill any day. So don't worry about hurting me."
Turning around, Marcus strode off to find his silver hammers.

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"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 INVOLVEMENT: ISADOR

the band arrived at the gates of the estate, slowly, but with no noise at all, the large heavy gates swung open. To reveal the modestly designed, yet large court yard. The estate itself was a few stories tall, and looked warm and inviting. It had the design elements of a mason and a woodsman. The stone was beautifully cut and kept in pristine condition. The woodwork itself spoke of long hours that extremely talented craftsmen have spent. Along the walls hung the deep blue and gold banners of Highever.

Guards of course stood in there expected spots. Some of them sported the regal Honor Guard armor of the Teryn, while others used standard leather and chain-mail armor. The Crow assassin turned to Isador with another smile. "Welcome Ser Isador," she said warmly. the party continued through the courtyard and up to the double doors. The guards opened the door for the party and they were ushered in. The hall was beautiful and magnificent. Polished grey stone, paintings from the best of artists, and weapons of various kinds, some rare and very exotic hung the walls. A large pig laid roasting over the fire, and food was still being prepared in the kitchen. Servants dressed in blues and golds milled around getting the feast ready. Guards again stood by the doorways, wearing similar color schemes to the servants. A few Templar knights stood off in one corner, talking amongst themselves.

"Have the others arrived yet?" she asked one of the servants. He shook his head. "No, milady. You are the first to arrive. Lord Cousland has your payment ready, and another task if you and your men are up to it." He gestured to a door on the far left of the hall. She grinned and left Isador in the hall.

The serveant turned his attention to the man and bowed "Ser Isador. Teryn Cousland will be happy to know that you have arrived. He's heard much about you. Please, make yourself at home while we wait for the others. If you have any questions, just ask."

_________________
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

Bill’s eyes glared at the Dwarf’s remark regarding his possessions. The tough and battered man’s eyes were a stark contrast to the rest of his body. They were blue and pure as ice, coldly looking down at the Dwarf in a way that clearly showed the amount of fury that had just suddenly boiled up into the man. His skin was nearly black from all of the dirt, soot, and blood that covered him, but his eyes shone bright as he stared down the little man.

“My equipment… can never be replaced. If you can’t even manage to deliver my gear, then I see no need in co-operating with you…” the man’s words were as cold as his stare and he very clearly stated the ultimatum.

“Everything is inside a building not too far from here… personally I don’t even think that any of you would be able to carry it all by yourselves… but if you can manage, and if there is indeed healers waiting for me then I see no reason to object for now… how does that sound?” Bill looked towards the human, who seemed to be at least somewhat reasonable. The man’s eyes shifted slightly as he caught a glimpse of someone approaching them, a man who had been fighting the soldiers in the basement earlier. Bill’s eyes narrowed as he watched Marcus attack the young man, and for a few moments it seemed as if they were about to kill each other. But Bill knew better than that, neither of the two men had any killer intent within their attacks, even if Marcus was boasting about not holding back. The man’s eyes narrowed slightly at the older man’s words, he was being awfully cheeky for someone who only knew Bill from a few occasional run-ins.

“Old man, believe me when I say this… but if you were ever to take a hit from me, you wouldn’t be around to take a second.” The brawler said in a cool manner, not threatening in the least but he made certain that he wasn’t about to let such a comment about his strength just go by like that. Bill’s strength was second to none, it was the one and only thing that set him apart from other fighters and it was all that he needed.

_________________

-Marcus Hammerstrike-




All that could be said or done considering Bills comment was just to shrug. Far to many years had gone by for Marcus to try and defend himself in the same way that Vovin might, and bill certainly still would, when it came to others underestimating them. Bill was strong, monstrous even, and Marcus knew with no uncertainty that one good solid strike Bills weapon would kill just about anything that wasn't trying to defend itself in some way... But there was the dilemma. Marcus used a sturdier armor than most people, and it was enhanced further by the method in which it was created. Not so bold as to say 'impervious' but certainly 'tougher' was a good word.

Both hammers had been returned to their rightful places as Marcus walked next to Bill, but stopped for a moment. "Bill. I recognize your strength, but neither of us will ever know for certain. I'm certain I could never overpower you, but I'm confident in the armor I've forged and the skills I've learned." A brief flame stuck to a match in his right hand, the flame illuminated the old smiths face for a moment to reveal the uncertainty in his face as he lit his pipe anew. As much a compliment as Bill would likely ever get.

"I'll get your gear myself, Bill. You go with the boy and the mercs. Try not to start another fight please." He chuckled, already leaving for the building with 'Boulder' Bills armor and dragon fang mace waiting inside.


(I'll make a post about entering the grand hall after someone else does.)

_________________
"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

Had he really allowed himself to think this fight would be different from any of the ones in the past? Was he that naive to let that idea enter his heart? Vovin almost laughed at himself as the handle of the hammer flew towards him. No, it appeared that some things may never change. He was perfectly ok with that. Already knowing what was coming, but unable to really do anything about it, Vovin nonetheless braced himself for the soulbrand enhanced strike that impacted his head, scrambling his mind briefly and loosening his grip on his sword. "Ah. Shit." was all he managed to say before Marcus's hand sent him sprawling. When he looked up, Marcus was over him, his own weapon being held against him. Despite having lost, Vovin couldn't help but smile. The small token of praise that Marcus offered caused Vovin to glow with a measure of pride. Such compliments were not often given. However, Vovin's face became serious when Marcus criticized his hesitation. He nodded gravely and said You are right, I am sorry." Pulling himself to his feet, the grin returned to his face and he laughed. "Then you better watch out for next time, I wont hold back!"

Vovin merely watched as the man he now knew as Bill and Marcus held a brief exchange. Suddenly a look of shocked worry appeared on the young spirit warrior's face. "My horse! My stuff! Damnit!" he nearly yelled, frantically scanning the area. As suddenly as the alarmed look had appeared it was gone, replaced with relief. "Phew, there it is. One second guys." Vovin said, making his way over to the mare that had somehow gotten loose of the pole it had been tied to and was standing idly some meters from the now ruined inn. Leading the horse back to the small group, Vovin was just in time to see Marcus head off to retrieve Bill's armor. With a quick goodbye, Vovin turned to the mercenaries and Bill. "Alright so what is the deal?"

_________________

Denerim-Estate

As the group approached the estate and slowly made their way in to the hall, Isador scanned the courtyard and took note of the number of guards he passed on his way in. Too many to take on alone if this goes south….not with four Crows here as well. A few of the guards seemed to stand straighter, more at attention as the group passed. Such actions were a common thing for Isador, one look at him and people knew he was a dangerous man. At the very least, the lavish looking courtyard was a hint at what kind of pay Isador could look forward to-that is if he decided to take this job.

As the double doors swung open and the group entered the hall Isador immediately looked to the Templars conversing in the corner. Isador didn’t recognize any of them but the Maker only knew if any of them had heard of his post Templar exploits or seen him in the tower when he wasn’t on retrieval missions. They didn’t seem to notice his entrance so he took note of their equipment then saw the roasting pig which reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since arriving in Denerim. He turned to the servant who approached him after his retinue left to another room. “Im no Ser….” Is all he said in his emotionless tone before he went to the table and sat down in a chair with his back to the wall. He waved over a maid who looked apprehensive to approach him. “Bring me some wine and some of that pig.” He said before waving her off to fetch his meal.

As he put his hand to his side where he the spear had gotten him and winced minutely as he pressed on the wound-the bleeding had stopped for now but he was going to need a healer or a doctor’s kit if he wanted to fight anymore today. He then realized that he was still covered in blood, probably why the maid looked so on edge. He sighed and got up and asked another servant where he could wash up. He had enough common sense to look presentable to a potential employer-well at least not covered in blood from head to toe. He followed the servant to one of the washrooms where he was provided with water and a cloth to freshen up. As he began to wash the blood from his face and armor he started to hum a cheerful tune he learned during his childhood in the chantry.

Valmyria Windstrider - Redcliffe

The Warden Commander couldn't help but give a sigh of relief as her party over looked into Redcliffe below them. "Finally... Redcliffe. Traditionally, it was still called a "village" but that was no longer the case. In the last 300 years the village had tripled in size; becoming about half the size of Denerim. the city was a beauty, talking in the environmental aspects of the area it was so well known for, and also for its rich history in fishing. The town center was still in the middle of a bowl, near the edge of the lake. But buildings now stretched up the sides of the bowl in every direction. The main roadway that descended into the center was completely stone; switching from a sloped surface to stairs. There where elevated walkways composed of wooden bridges and platforms that stretched around and in between the houses.

It was known as the Heart of the West, and flourished in trade, crops, and nearly all manner of skills. The power of Redcliffe was dictated by Arl Drail Hailstrom, who in his own right, had as much power as a Teryn would have. However, the title had not yet been offered to Lord Hailstrom. But he was a noble man, not pushed on by his own selfish and vain ambitions for power. His focus was simply the security of his people. Even now, he sought for a way to save the Kingdom of Fereldin from collapsing.

A grim smile crossed her face as she realized the irony of the situation. For years the armies of Redcliffe patrolled the Western boarder, ever vigilante against threats from the outside world. Yet even as hard as they continue to fight today, it wil be an internal attack that would bring his world crashing down. she was sure it would be slow at first if Fereldin fell. Redcliffe could possibly operate as a city-sate for a few decades. But eventually be overpowered and brought under the rule of whoever slew Fereldin.

"Arvashok," she said looking over at the giant. "I'm here at the request of Arl Hailstrom. He wants the Warden's support in bringing peace to this land. I don't know how much we can help him. You, Lainolen, and Devon are welcome to join if you want, or wander around the village. Zha'Gren... I don't have anyone you need to take out at the moment and I don't think I can bring you with me into the meeting... you have my permission to go, um... do something."

_________________
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: The Estate

Bill was growing more and more uncomfortable the longer he went without treatment for his wounds. The salve that Marcus gave him had helped a great deal, but many of his injuries were far too severe for such a temporary fix. The arrow wound to his hand was one of the most annoying injuries, however a few of the gashes that Kevann had dealt were his primary concern. Although Bill showed no signs of slowing down, he could definitely feel the effects of all the blood he had lost. He kept his pain and discomfort completely hidden, as he knew he would need to keep a solid poker face for the upcoming meeting. Bill had no idea what they were getting into and for the time being he was in no position to resist.

His first priorities would be to find a healer and get his gear on, after that he would have a lot more leeway in his further choices. The man entered the estate while following the guides, his icy eyes looked around the massive rooms slowly. He could learn a lot about the people he was dealing with simply from where they were staying. Bill didn’t particularly like the rich types, their heads were far too inflated by their egos.

“So… where can I find myself a healer? I’d prefer a cute one, I always feel better being in the care of a woman.” A slight smirk came across Bill’s face, making it clear that he was half joking about what he just said.

“This place is impressive, fancy folk have it nice don’t they?” the battered and dirty man said with a slight whistle as he looked around.
“I think it'd be good if I could clean myself up a bit too, maybe a nice hot bath? I’d also prefer a cute one with the bath.”

_________________

- Redcliffe -

Zasalim was barely paying any heed to the rouge trying to school him on the ways of avoiding the wrath of the Qun. He mostly found himself returning the stare of the Arvashok. He could take a hint though, and didn't want to cause any further distress among his allies. He didn't speak much during the trip to Redcliffe and tried to linger near the back of the pack. Out of sight out of mind was his reasoning for such behavior. That and he was trying to allow his hangover to subside. He caught a throbbing headache shortly after they started going. The adrenaline had faded away from the previous scuffle and a quiet walk and fresh air was all he needed. He noticed Zha'Ghren leave for his side mission, and return later, bringing back a spear bearing a Quel'Elhen enchantment.

Redcliffe was still a sight to behold and after venturing into the Deep Roads he was happy to lay eyes upon the grand "village" again. He wasn't too familiar with lay of the land yet, and having no formal ties to the wardens he was sure his presence at the gathering Valmyria spoke of wasn't welcome. He figured that he could get a quick bite and a frosty beverage from a nearby inn and lay low. Sticking with Zha'Gren crossed his mind briefly, but he had enough trouble avoiding the Templar order without a darkspawn around.

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My Poetry and More!

-Denerim, The Estate-

Vovin's question was answered indirectly by Bill and the escort's departure. Grabbing the reins of his horse, Vovin led the beast in pursue of his new comrade and their guides. The journey was short, and soon enough they arrived at the impressive estate. Well, impressive to Vovin at least. He was used to well crafted structures, the Order's foundation in the mountain was beautifully made, but he still held an appreciation for good craftsmanship. His eyes widened slightly as he looked over every detail, from the beautifully cut stone, to the wary eye of the guards who were looking over his tall figure clad in intimidating black and spiny armor. He also chuckled to himself when their looks became tinged with confusion upon seeing his happy face. The young warrior was provide a spot to tie up his horse, then they were led into the estate. When they entered the dining hall, Vovin's eyes immediately fell on the roasting pig. He gave a quick farewell to Bill as the stone knight went about getting cleaned up. Vovin then strode over and sat down at a nearby table. It was only after he had taken his seat did he notice that the man sitting nearby was familiar to him. It was only after he had politely requested some food and drink did he remember who the blood covered individual was. It was that man who had used the pain aura back at the inn. Vovin thought about striking up a conversation, but the man quickly left to go about something else. Vovin decided to simply wait, digging into his food when it arrived, and keeping a look out for Marcus.

_________________

Laila eyed the two warily from behind the cover of her bangs, holding her arm in front of Amir to keep him from setting the mage and the hunter on fire. "Arranged it all? If he wanted to meet with us then why all the roundabout nonsense?" She frowned and sighed, knowing Amir would take any chance to cause a fuss, and tugged at his arm. "If you'll excuse us for a moment, I need to speak to my companion here." She pulled him aside to the corner of the room and whispered to him in a hushed tone. "This is getting stranger and stranger. But it's dangerous to escape right now, what with all the guards outside."

Amir’s grip on his staff tightened with every word the representative and his partner said. The idea that the collective, a group of mages who were supposed to help other mages had assisted in manipulating them into coming to Denerim made his stomach twist in anger. It was all just a game to these people, wasn’t it? Playing with their lives, bringing them to a city absolutely crawling with Templars for the benefit of some mysterious employer who didn’t see any problem with leading the two of them into danger was all just a game, wasn’t it? If it wasn’t for Laila’s arm held up in front of him, he surely would have lashed out at them by now, damning the consequences. He went with Laila reluctantly when she pulled him to the corner and whispered. “I could probably turn them into walking bombs with enough time for us to escape before they made a mess,” He whispered, glaring at the two before returning his attention to his companion.

"Best not," Laila warned, eyeing the two strangers warily out of the corner of her eye. "I don't want to draw too much attention to ourselves, and on top of that we might be better off just going with them and seeing what they want. If anything, we can escape on the way to wherever they intend to take us and do it without hurting anyone." The young healer bit her lip; she realized her pacifism was showing, but it wasn't caused by an abhorrence to the concept of death. Bloodshed drew attention, and that was the last thing two fugitive mages needed.

"Sometimes we need to hurt someone if we're going to escape with our hides intact." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair tiredly. Was it so much to want to be able to live in peace without a templar up their asses making them paranoid? He didn't actually want the representatives of the mages guild to die, but if they got in their way he wouldn't hesitate to knock them out of their way. "...But you're right. Escaping now would just have us running into the arms of the city guard." Amir admitted, squeezing her should lightly to let her know he was with her.

Laila's fingertips touched Amir's hand at her shoulder as she smiled up at him and forced down her cowardice in an attempt to be reassuring. "Whatever happens, I won't leave your side." She weaved her fingers into his and held his hand as they walked back to the two strangers. "We'll go with you to meet your employer, but if we notice anything suspicious I don't think it needs to be said that we won't stick around to find out what's in store for us."

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

Zha'Gren - Redcliffe Manor





The predator in him nearly roared to life in an attempt to throttle the commander for being so foolish. To enter an enemies stronghold without protection! Without trying to get him in somehow! Not even the decency to try and send him off on some mindless busy work of some sort. Surely there was something he could- The gears of it's mind clicked for a moment as an idea formed.
She didn't say not to try and get in anyways.
But how? What avenue was open. It wasn't like he'd never snuck into a large manor of some sort before, but there was importance now. No guard could be killed or Val might be subject to arrest. The flimsy cloak he'd worn since the mountains had done a lot to discourage onlookers from seeing to close, and the mask was clearly taken as some sort of Qun shaman ritual by the ignorant masses, but that wouldn't hold up for long.

Zha'Gren let a low growl of acceptance escape softly from behind the bone mask before turning to walk into the nearby foliage and out of sight. He wasn't going to let up for long, though this little adventure would be rather annoying. Castles built on cliffs did not favor killers. Hopefully the information he'd... acquired... would still be effective. A long time ago, likely before some of the newer extensions to the castle were in effect, a dark stalker had infiltrated the castle and murdered 23 people without ever being seen. 5 servants, nearly 15 armed and alert guards, 2 elite guardsman and the prince that had been visiting.
The killer was never seen and most exits were found and sealed off. Zha'Gren knew one that nobody had ever found by pure chance. Another killer had exited the castle through a passage somewhere under the water that connected to a cavern and some tunnels leading to catacombs. After a light chat and a violent decapitation, the killer explored the routes in and out and took claim for the kill.

The hike down the hillside was easy enough, the sun was facing his back so it obscured what little view of him to be found, and the water wasn't very busy considering the entrance was on the opposite side. A quick splash in the water and a short swim later he emerged in a very dark cave. The ground felt sticky and clung to his feet like a... spiders... web. Reflexively, Zha'Gren slashed out with his blade in a wide overhead arc, Diving backwards into the safety of the water and what little light available. He wasn't dissapointed. A set of mandibles the size of his head splashed into the water violently tearing away for the source of its sudden pain, finding only water and the stinging of it's cut limb it retreated back to the security of the darkness. It would be more alert this time.

Annoying creatures, spiders. Who makes these damn things so big! He thought quickly, his air quickly running out of his lungs from the unexpected dive. No other way in but this one, maybe the spider would be afraid of his next intrustion. No reason not to be secure in that.
Though magic had never been his specialty it had always been a part of the process of making the grisly totems that hung from his armor. A simple light spell on an item was not hard to do under such circumstances.
Splash! Out of the water went a small rock, lighting up the small cave almost completely. Up above sat a spider as big as Zha'Gren and twice as long. This was gonna be a fun day. He mused silently. Out of the water came Zha'Gren, immediatly throwing more rocks as he emerged at the spider, hissing at the sudden blinding light but descending to try and crush the intruder. Diving into a controlled roll, Zha'Gren came on his feet less than a foot away from the angry spider and gave his own hiss that was followed by the spiders screaming. 3 daggers suddenly sticking out of its face, yet it did not fall. A backhand from its front leg caught his shoulder and sent him into a small flip backwards to land hard on his back, apparently the spider could still see because it charged at the downed hunter with abandon.

Zha'Gren barely avoided the creatures bite, all but obliterating the stone where moments ago he'd occupied. Across the face went the scimitar, drawing a bright line across it's furry face and cutting off one of the creatures mandibles. It's foul blood and the sound of its agony only drove the hunter on with new vigor. Each slash drew another line of bright blood, each cut pushed the spider back in fear, each swing brought glory to Val and the prowess of her killer. With a savage roar of victory he plunged the great blade through the thrashing spiders skull where it twitched and screamed before finally its many legs buckled from the weight to fall silently.
Where there is one... Zha'Gren turned and threw another rock further down the tunnel. It was covered completely in the spiders sticky strand but only the cocoons of victims lay in the immediate path, though that didn't really mean it was bug free still. Plenty more things, bigger things if the one behind him was a mere male, may lay in the bigger part of the tunnel just before the crypt. Zha'Gren hoped there wasn't anything bigger than the one behind him further ahead. He wouldn't mind if there was though..

With a small chuckle, an idea sparked in the predators head. He hadn't had the opportunity before, but now seemed like a good idea. It was dry here, dusty, with very flammable things literally coating the walls. Pulling a small bit of flint from his pack, Zha went to work restlessly striking it against his blade. After a few minutes he'd finally gotten the reaction he wanted. Though much MUCH quicker than he'd anticipated! Like a hungry demon set loose on an unsuspecting town, the whole room erupted into flames in mere seconds, hungrily licking up the sticky webs and racing down the tunnel to illuminate even further ahead as it swallowed the passageways. A few twists and turns here and there blocked his view to the main chamber of this great maze but if his hunch was correct...
What felt like the moan of a titan all but smashed into the hunter as something very big and very angry was given a kiss from the angry flames. From the sounds of it, the creature ahead had been coated in the sticky strands to hide itself from anybody that got through its cavemate. Nothing made the hunters heart swell than hearing the death throws of a gigantic enemy. The flames settled down nearly 15 minutes after it had started, leaving only the charred remains of earlier meals and the unborn eggs behind it. Job well done.

Pushing the simple light spell into his blade and pressing on, Zha'Gren emerged at the main area he'd come to find. It was a great big cavern now scorched entirely black. At its center lay the prize he hoped hadn't been there. Sitting, well right now it was simply flopped atop, a great mound of bodies, lay the twisted and agonized remains of the mother recluse. Majestic though it was, it was incredibly weak against light and fire due to its chitenous armor. Rest in filth, spider bitch. He smirked. The spiders carcass was nearly 30 feet in every direction, bloated and swollen from feeding, its legs added another couple of feet but they'd curled against its body in the final moments.

If only he'd had the time to make a proper trophy of the creature. WHAT A STORY THAT WOULD BE!
For now, he had to be satisfied with what little he could take from such a majestic and dead creature. The mandible on this one was longer than the hunter was but just as soft and fleshy. With a snap, the burned husk flopped harmlessly on the ground to reveal a steady trickle of a very bright green ooze. Venom. Potent, effective, horrendously rare, and even rarer to even possess. After a few moments of steady work, Zha'Gren had a vial full of the precious liquid.
The poison was from such a gigantic creature, yet it needed a mere drop to reduce a knights shining armor to slag. It was acidic to everything but the spider and glass. Thankfully the Vial was glass!

The opening to the crypts was easy enough to locate, and thankfully not infested with spiders. Torches lit the walls and dust clung to everything but the floor, where servants sometimes came through to sweep and quickly transport things without being seen by guests. From here, he located one such servants tunnel and disappeared into the shadows within. With a little luck he'd find Val on his way to the top spires.



Marcus Hammerstrike - Denerim Manor


Uneventful and dull walks bored the old man to tears, his constant yawning aggrivating his eyes and caused a small amount of liquid to run down his cheek. The heavy gear did little to remedy the situation.
"Friggin' dragon bone mace and your stupid boulder armor weighing down like a small army. I shoulda crushed the durn things into a heap of slag and.." On and on he grumbled, the armor jingling in the cart he'd been forced to.. procure.. for the long trip to the manor. Tiring. Sweaty. Hot. Boring. Marcus was almost to a boiling point when he finally realized he wasn't smoking his pipe. The tobacco was fresh still, well preserved and perfectly stored in his pouch. It sizzled briefly as his match lit the dry herb and filled his lungs with the calming aroma he'd payed a handsome price to get. Worth every copper.

No more than an hour after Bill and Vovin had arrived, a grumbling Marcus made it to the gates and was let through. One man was forced down when he attempted to confiscate the armor inside of his wagon, the other having left to get the Owner, Bill. "Told you not to touch it, punk. Your master wants me here, wants to keep me here you better shove off. Ain't yours to take anyhow. Break your fingers one by one I see you so much as eyein' em again. Hear me?"

The gatekeeper whimpered and gave a nod, trying to rise on shaking legs.

_________________
"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

With clean armor and a clean face Isador returned to the dining hall and to his hot meal and wine. He didn’t look towards the Templars this time; he knew their numbers and equipment-standard sword and shield- and knew he could take them if they grew confrontational. As he turned his gaze to the long table he noticed a man in black armor sitting down that he hadn't seen before. The lad’s armor was impressive as well as his weapons but Strauss knew not to measure a warrior by how shiny his equipment was. After thinking on it he realized that this was the same man who had yelled at him during the fight in the cellar-he had been holding his own well enough despite Isador’s aura.

After getting a read on the young warrior Isador returned to his seat and took a sip of the wine that the servant had fetched for him. A good vintage He thought as he swirled his cup, looking at his ring of poison resistance. No taking it off here. He placed his cup upon the table and began to eat the roast pig. It was the best meal he’d been able to eat in months, having been out tracking down and butchering a mercenary leader in the middle of a riot most of his meals had been trail rations or poorly made tavern slop. He kept an eye on the comings and goings of the servants, always making sure he knew how many people and who were in the room as he ate quietly.

DENERIM ESTATE.

"My Lord," said a servant as he bowed before the Teryn. "the mages have finally arrived and now all of your guests are assembled."

The Teryn stood in a simple, yet regal clothing design that indicated his status, but also is youth. It was composed of a red and black linen undershirt, and a gold embroidered brown cotton velvet jerkin, all held with a brown embroidered belt, brown pants and knee high boots. He he gently stroked the runeblade that rested so elegantly in its stand, before turning around to answer the servant. "Good," He replied. "I foresee that we may have some more... wanders then expected. Make the same offer, but kill him if he refuses. I shall tend to our guests."

Teryn Cousland left the room and started towards the great hall. He severely wanted to bring the runeblade with him, its comforting weight gave him confidence and power. But he knew that the mages there could easily pick up the connections it had with the fade, hence why he left in on the stand which had been seal so the dark energies of the Fade that were seeping out of it couldn't be detected unless they were in the room itself. It was going to be perfect. He would send these so-called "heroes" to wander off on some "quest" and by the time they return, it will hopefully be too late. These were the only people that could stop him, according to the Spirits in the Fade; the longer they can be distracted, the better.

He walked into the room and saw everything was going according to plan. As he reached over to accept the mug that had been extended to him and took note of his guests. The mages had just arrived and stood at the other end of the room. A female healer, gorgeous girl that had often healed him has well, stood attending to Bill's wounds, which were almost fully healed. Everyone else was helping themselves to the rich feast he had prepared for them. He had even brought out some of the royal vintage to appease them.

"My friends," he began by saluting them with the mug. "I am honored that you were able to make it here this evening. I do apologizes for the quickness of this, it would seem like someone had decided to light my bar on fire instead. I know all there is the know about you all, so allow me to introduce myself. I am Teryn Vern Cousland of Highever. I have summoned all of you here because according to what my mages have perceived, you are the next heroes to save Fereldin." He paused for a minute to let the words sink in.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Kingdom is under attack on multiple fronts from an unknown enemy, and if they should they continue any longer the Kingdom and eventually the world will collapse into chaos. I come before you to ask for your help in resolving these conflicts. You will be rewarded for your troubles as well. I have gold, power, and a promise of peace." He waited for a moment as a servant brought him a stack heavy parchment wrapped in leather. "These are Letters of Endorsement, similar to Letters of Marque, which clears your name from any past misdeeds and diverts any group that seeks to do you harm. Knight-Captain Gregor, what would happen if an apostate mage and supposed blood mage were found with these documents?"

The leading Templar took a step forward and glanced at the letter. "The individuals would be recognized as 'private' mages and no longer be hunted by or harrased by Templar forces."

"And other individuals?"

"They would be given a clean slate, and any other organization that has hostile intentions towards that individual would be... encouraged not to pursue those motives, or face total destruction from the Fereldin army."

The Teryn smiled and turned to face the guests, "So what say you? Are you willing to embark as a fellowship to save the Kingdom of Fereldin?"

Valmyria Windstrider - Enroute to Redcliffe Castle.

The Warden bit her lip as she walked toward the tall castle. To some, it would have inspired hope, justice, and a sense of peace, but to here it filled her with dread. She knew who was there and wasn't particular interested in meeting with the Arl, or anyone for that matter. Her blue cloak was wrapped around her, and the hood pulled up to discourage anyone from talking with her. The Redcliffe guards did look in her direction, searching for trouble. she knew that when she got to the gate that she would be asked what her business was. Damn you Talyon, she thought miserably to herself. Damn you for dying.

"oh kind you-" started a voice next to her, causing Valmyria to nearly jump out of her skin. She glanced over and saw an old woman wearing rags that indicated her of some sort of begger. But her eyes ensnared Val. They were glossed over with age, but were still sharp and alert... and a curious gold color.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't have any-" she began, but was abruptly cut off by the old woman.

"Tis not coin that I seek, young Warden, but to extend a gift to you," said the old woman.

"A gift?"

"Yes. You are in danger, and need this that I give of you freely.Change is coming to the world. Many fear change and will fight it with every fibre of their being. But sometimes, change is what they need the most. Sometimes, change is what sets them free," she said as she stared off into the distance. "Soak in the vista before the massacre begins." she said before laughing madly.

Before Val could say anything, the woman brought out a small silver bracelet with a red jewel in the center. "this is for you, Warden dear. This will keep you safe, as it once did the Witch Morrigan."

"This belonged to Morrigan?" asked the elf in amazement, but with some disbelief. She knew the story. A few years after the Blight was over, she dissapeared, never to be heard from again... or so the majority of history said. There were other sources, all of them conflicting, but all agreed one one thing, that she came back a different person with power, and amulet.

"Yes, this is the witch's blade, and now I pass it along to you, that you may have the strength to defend yourself and correct the errors of the past."

Val accepted the the amulet and inspected it. It was simple, yet had a beauty to it that she couldn't describe. She was about to ask the old woman if there was anything she could do to make up for such a fine gift, but when she looked up, the old woman was gone.

"What the hell?" she asked herself and turned her attention back to the the amulet. Carefully, and for reasons she herself did not understand, removed her glove and put the amulet on. It fit perfectly and still so alien. Carefuly, she pulled her glove back up, and continued towards the castle, pondering what had happen.

On the top of the aged windmill sat the crow with golden eyes as she watched the Ranger continue on. Perhaps this will even the odds.

_________________
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Redcliffe -- Old Habits

Arvashok didn't say much in response to Valmyria's proclamation that he could wander freely. To do such a thing -- to neglect duty and post so easily. Surely she was testing his resolve to the task, for there was never a chance he would leave his own commander to venture anywhere alone without orders. He had some expectations that Zha'Gren felt the same, until the 'spawn actually did leave their side. But then he remembered that the beast was first and foremost a scout. Ashaad... Yes. It was only proper that 'Gren would opt for stealth and the chance to see all without scrutiny or hindrance.

Lainolen easily knew where Arvashok was going without asking. The Qunari was predictable, but reliable all the same. He strolled up beside the behemoth warrior and offered a slight nod. Devon, meanwhile, wasted no time walking off and heading for the nearest thing to a tavern he could find. He hated politics and wasn't much for guard duty if he could choose to get drunk. His two compatriots wasted no thought for him as they set off to follow their Commander.

But it wasn't long before an old woman had hindered their route with her inane babbling. Or so it first appeared. But then the name Morrigan was used. In the past centuries since the last Blight, every Qunari who ever became involved with Grey Wardens and darkspawn was relayed very precise information. "Never trust Morrigan." The exact meaning to these words never came to light, but warnings were taken to heart all the same when it came to the Wardens. Arvashok stepped forward a moment to see into the woman's eyes. To see that same gold that was always told of. That same gaze that was warned against.

Arvashok turned to Valmyria and snorted a bit before speaking. "It is likely magic. Do not wear that, Commander..." He stated clearly just before she began to walk further toward the castle. He did not know what purpose the trinket carried. But if a woman with gold eyes was offering it with the name Morrigan, Arvashok was not going to give it a chance to twist his leader into some foul scheme. Lainolen froze a moment as he saw Arvashok's hand lower, hovering near the weapon on his back out of instinctive caution. This was all the warning the elf needed as he stepped back a few feet.

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Denerim Estate: Boulder Bill

The Hall:
The man sat comfortably in one of the fancy chairs as a healer worked her magic on him. Much to his delight (which could clearly be seen on his face) the healer was in fact a very beautiful woman. Bill had a smug looking smile upon his face and although he was a bit distracted by the woman’s presence he couldn’t help but take note of the head honcho walking into the hall.

“You know… you have very soft hands, gentle… I’ve never had a healer as skilled as you are, maybe if you’re free later I'll show my thanks and treat you to some din-“ Bill was cut off as a guard appeared behind them, informing him of the arrival of his armor. Before hearing the message Bill only glared at the guard with ice cold eyes, but his expression quickly changed to a much more neutral one once he knew that his gear and Marcus had arrived. It was now impossible to tell what the man was thinking, his face completely blank as he stood up from his chair and looked over at the beautiful woman.

“Ah, but I think this will do for now… could you be a dear and heal the unfriendly looking man that’s sitting over there?” Bill pointed to where Isador Strauss was sitting, the man he had recognized earlier as being one of the people from the bar. If things went south again, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have the man at top strength.

“He has a nasty spear wound… so be sure to be as gentle with him as you were with me.” The man turned to leave the room, only stopping for a moment to glance over at the man called Teryn Cousland.
“Part of my deal was that I would get my armor before speaking with you, you’ll have my answer once I return with all my gear.” The man said in a neutral tone, even if it was a bit rude to leave without giving an answer, Bill wasn’t about to do it without the appropriate leverage on his side.


The Gate:
When Bill arrived at the gate a simple smirk cracked onto his face when he saw the pile of stone like armor sitting in a cart.
“Marcus you did good, I owe you a few drinks for this.” Bill said as he walked up to the older man as he patted his shoulder. For a moment Bill leaned in to Marcus’ ear so that none of the guards could hear what he was saying to the older man.

“I don’t know who this guy is, but he seems to have a hell of a lot of pull… he’s asking us to fight off a war for the kingdom but I don’t see this guy as being much of a philanthropist… I don’t like his offer, in fact his offer doesn’t do me any good until I’ve crushed what’s left of the Stone Knights… I’m planning on turning him down, if he doesn’t take my answer the right way you’ve got my back right?”

_________________

Vovin sat idly, digging into the food that was presented before him. He occasionally glanced around at the other people attending this meeting. Then at last, the Teryn appeared and wove his tale of heroism and bravery. Vovin's face gradually lit up with anticipation the longer the Teryn talked. A chance to be a hero! To prove himself and make the Order's name known! This was what he had been looking for, this was his moment. Without thinking it through too much, Vovin stood up and announced. "I will accept your offer, Teryn Cousland, in the name of the Draconis Order I will slay Fereldin's enemies!" With those words began to look for Marcus, wanting to know how he stood on the matter. Although Vovin would be thrilled if Marcus chose to accept as well, he would not be deterred if he did not. He was capable of making his own decisions. He did, however, truly wish to have a familiar face around. Truth be told he was feeling a small amount of homesickness. Pushing the thought of home from his mind, Vovin instead focused on psyching himself up about the imminent quest.

_________________

Laila listened to the teryn, as it would be rude not to, but her eyes were locked on the handsome lad being bandaged and tended to by the obnoxiously attractive healer woman. What troubled her was far from jealousy; she had little energy for endeavors of envy. No, this was her pride as the best healer in Thedas tugging at her heart, willing her to say something. She settled for hiding meekly behind Amir and tugging at his sleeve. "Amir," she whispered. "The healer...she's touching his wounds. What if they get infected? She's not even using a poultice on the bandages for his bruises. It's just healing the surface injuries. Should I say something?"

Amir barely paid the teryn any mind, too preoccupied with making sure that he stood between Laila and the rest of the room. She wasn't safe here, not with the Black Axe and the rest of the men who had been recruited by this shady nobleman with an agenda. When Laila tugged at his sleeve he tore his attention away from staring at the others to focus on her. "If the idiot is too fucking stupid to realize that woman is going to get him an infection that'll take his leg then it's his own damn fault." He said callously, just loud enough for the statement to carry across the room. "But then again, humans are always dumb enough to favor a pair of tits over actual skill."

"Shh, Amir, don't make them angry!" Laila pleaded, panic in her tone. There were a lot of big men with bigger weapons here, and neither she nor her dear Amir were capable of besting the lot of them, even with all the flashy magic they had at their disposal. The Black Axe and the Knight Commander in particular made her extra wary of the situation. With a sigh, the young healer felt it best to take charge of the situation before her companion's venomous tongue got them both killed. She peered around Amir at the teryn and clung to her companion's coat as she spoke to the nobleman. "W-What my Amir means, ser, is that as lovely as your offer is, we're not battle mages. We're both quite ill-suited to take up arms for anything. I'm quite the opposite, personally. I'm a healer, and Amir is my assistant. That is all there is to us."

"We're in a room with a fucking teryn, the blighted Knight Commander and the Black Axe himself. I see no better time to speak my mind," he hissed back. But at the same time, he restrained himself from speaking while Laila explained and tried to cover for his lack of tact. They were between a rock and a hard place, though and sometimes that required a bit of lip. When Laila finished being the reasonable one he piped in yet again. "And your offer is utter shit. Papers won't keep corrupt templars from putting the brand to our heads and making us zombies." He glanced to the Knight Commander with a bitter smirk. "And don't try to claim otherwise, ser. If you were as pure as you ought to be you wouldn't be standing in the same room as a templar turned murderer."

Laila's grip on Amir's clothes kept strong, as if the blood mage's torrent of verbal slander would blow her away along with him if she didn't hold on tight enough. "Amir, stop, that's rude." She glanced briefly at Isador, worried for retaliation, before looking back at the teryn. "I apologize for Amir's rudeness, but he has a good point. There are many corrupt templars, Tevinter slavers, and so on and such in Ferelden. How are Amir and I to be sure we would be safe from them with your proposal?"

"Well someone has to be honest here." He muttered, just barely able to bite back the biting comment that he desperately wanted to follow it with. That the teryn certainly wasn't being entirely honest. Instead he slipped his hand down to grip Laila's, giving an apologetic squeeze and lowering his eyes as if it might make him seem more humble. He still had Laila to protect, and he would dig two graves with his mouth if he kept up his comments. "My apologies, ser. But with the false accusations of blood magic against me I am naturally wary of any offers that seem too good to be true."

_________________

Marcus Hammerstrike: Justice at the forge.


Words were never his strong point, diplomacy a close second to that, and yet with age came the wisdom others lacked. His gut was clenched like an iron fist and coated with frost, nearly painful in its own way. Something wasn't right about this. Though Marcus couldn't put his finger on why he felt this way, it was still rather daunting. He just hoped that Vovin hadn't made a hasty decision in the face of an unseen threat.
Was it really Marcus' place to say anything concerning the boy?

Marcus spared a glance at the various wounds on his companion, Bill, and noticed quickly the rather shoddy work. Good enough to cover it up, but it didn't seem like the wounds were all and truly gone. "May wanna get a little more work done on those wounds Bill, if what you say is true.. We're going to have a very long couple of days ahead of us." His expression was blank and posture was dignified, but the eyes told you his distress well enough. "Put on your gear and stick close. If things go south I want you as close to me as possible."
He'd never been a general or a tactician but sometimes it felt right to at least try his hand at giving requests. Bill would choose what he did, he just hoped he'd understand that Marcus was old and getting older. Worried his bones would not last anymore.
As they walked, Marcus whispered back to Bill quietly,
"Lets see what we face. Maybe you can convince this lord to crush Stone Knights? Convince him that they would hamper with anything that involved you. Nothing short of annihilation will stop them."

*Inside the mansion*

The halls and everything around him shone with the light of gold. Gold stained with blood and the bitter taste of betrayal and power. Or was that his imagination playing tricks? Didn't matter to him in the slightest as he entered the main hall with a tremendous boom as the doors thundered open, arriving just in time to hear Vovin swear his allegiance without even considering anything. It nearly broke the old smiths iron bound heart. He did his best to hide the look in his eyes as he scanned the room.
Something here was clutching at the back of his neck, a sensation he didn't feel unless.... The spirits.

Nobody could really notice such a simple trick, subtle and yet so powerful it seemed to him at the time. The spirits of the fade knew things that could never be spoken but the warnings were just the same. Everywhere in the room had a bright glow of the fade around it. Light that shone from most of the people here and yet... still, that horrible gnawing at the back of his neck. It wasn't until he saw the speaker that he understood.
Dressing in finery wasn't a good way to hide everything.
Slithering around the mans fingertips was the faintest traces of magic. Old. Powerful. Grotesque. Blacker than any soul ever graced this world or the next and fouler still. It was faint but somehow insubstantial. It could be many things, or a coincidence. Those who payed their fees with blood often blackened their own hands... Why did this one aura bother him so.

He would likely find out soon enough if the others in the room were as bloodhungry as he'd feared.
"Vovin..." Marcus whispered to himself, the hood obscured his face for a few moments despite the light as he hardened himself. "I'm glad to see you here, and so close at hand to raise your blade and Spirit senses for the good of this kind lord." Marcus prayed that the boy would understand. To view the lord as he just did. To try and see if Marcus' eyes were playing a cruel and unfunny joke upon the old man.

"I'm not certain whether or not I will join your crusade, My lord. Defenders of Fereldin seldom all meet by accident in a drunken bar fight. Comical, really. I'd like to know more about this threat, and why you care so much for Fereldin. Mages or no, there are answers that can't be answered. Why us? Why now? Why here. You could have gathered us up in a castle owned by a rich lord or king, or sent for us by royal decree. You chose mercenaries. Killers. Assassins. Your own home. If we are that important then why do I feel like a piece of hot iron waiting to be discarded." For all Marcus knew, the man had told the truth. Magic was not his talent so he could not say for sure if a mage prophecy had any more validation that sheer coincidence did, but the black glow.. Hearing the mans response now might be the make or break for Marcus, and maybe a few others.

_________________
"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 stood calmly and patiently as each of his guests replied with their various comments and questions. It was a little eerie how he just calmly stood there and listened. He would have to answer them one by one, which wasn't a problem for him. The master tactician and politician was well prepared for these events. He knew some would question, others would immediately jump for fame. It was working perfectly, he would have been suspicious if all of them immediately replied yes, no questions asked. It was a good thing he had done his research on these people to.

He allowed Bill to leave. He knew bill wondered and even doubted if he could call the Stone Knights off of him. He could. He was a Teryn. He could achieve this goal in any manner of fancy that he wished; either by bribery, blackmail, assassination, or the full weight of the Highever Army descending upon them, he could ride Bill of these so called knights by controlling them, or destroying them. Even arrange the capture of those that betrayed the man.

He smiled at Volvin's reply. "Thank you, young man." he said with a bow. "Fereldin will benefit greatly from your willingness to aid the greater good. You and your order will be well known and appreciated in the land."

He turned to Lalia and Amir. "Lady Lalia. I know you are not battle mages, but not every war is fought or won by the strength of battle. Your skill as healers are well known to me... as is your past. You will be needed to help and support, since you are from what I hear, the best of the best," he replied calmly and with a warm smile.

focusing more specifically on Amir, he continued with the mage's issues. "As for your blights with the Templar's, that is well known unto me, as is your escape. I know everything there is about you two, and that is why I am the best person and only chance to give you two the peace you seek. Think of Lalia. This is the best chance you have to give her a life that doesn't involve running and constant fear. These papers, while the example was ill suited, was merely meant as an example of their effectiveness. Meaning even blood mages can be protected from the Chantry with these. Wither you are one or not doesn't matter to me, or to these Templars, only to the Chantry"

"Corrupted templars aren't going to be your problem. They are easy to bribe! Easy to blackmail, and are getting fewer and fewer. Its the righteous ones you fear, and they follow orders. Even if they are written in paper. There is a list of technical and political reasons why this will work for you and Lalia that I don't care to discuss at this time. Basically, it works on the same principles as the Gery Warden's Right of Conscription. You will be in service to the Terynship of Highever, although I promise I won't be calling on you like a servant. You can review the document too if you wish," he finished, extending one of the letters to Amir to be reviewed if he wished. "It doesn't work though unless I sign it, of course."

He was further pleased with the coming of the legendary smith, Marcus. But he caught the hint he was trying to send to the boy, and cursed himself silently. Of course there would be some residual taint from his beloved sword, and while still shielded from them, the spirit warriors could at least sense it. Luckily, he had planned for this as well, but was still annoyed about it. Nevertheless, he didn't let it show. He would address that concern as well.

He sighed and let out a long breath of air. "You ask the most important questions, Master Dwarf. you are correct, that the heroes of Fereldin do not meet by accident. I had arranged for all of you to be there. Let me explain." He showed some hesitation, some grief, perhaps even a hint of embarrassment to provide belief to his story. It wasn't entirely untrue of course, just... adjusted.
"There is something strange going on in the lands. Massive upheaval and distress. Rebellions, revolts, The King lay on his death bead while his sons threaten to tear the Kingdom in half, the brush-wars of the Dalish and Quel'Elhen, and this is further complicated from the lack of communication from the Circle of Magi, the instability of the Grey Wardens, and now the threat of another Blight... My half-brother, Arl Hailstrom of Redcliffe and I believe that these events are not random, but were designed by an individual or a party to destroy the Kingdom of Fereldin and plunge the world into darkness. We spent months building and using spy nets to find out what was going on. I grew impatient and I had my mages venture into the Fade to request insight from the Spirits. We weren't shown the cause, but we were shown the solution. It was all of you. There are a few others who would play a key role in this conflict, but those gathered here are most of the ones in the vision that were shown to unite together to stop the destruction of Fereldin, and the world. We were also shown what could happen if you arrived late, and while the world was saved, the destruction was great and terrible. So we thought it would be better if you were here now then later."

"My mages are confident that all of you are the ones to save us."

"I have invited you here, to my home, to show that I have what it is you brave defenders may need. An army. Influence. Power. No royal will believe the claims of a lord without physical proof, even a Teryn. It is my hope that you brave warriors will give me the evidence I need to put a stop to the madness before it is to late." he glanced down at his hand "And before my past mistakes consume me... While attempting the Fade Vision, we dabbled in black magic as well. Seeking to find out as many ways as possible to identify or save the Kingdom. Something got out and... attacked me specifically. It was beaten back by my Templars and mages, but we are still unsure of the effects, other than this taint which you can detect on my hand, most of it is being driven out."

Cousland put his hand down and offered a tired smile. For the briefest of moments, one could see past his armor of bravery and strength and see that he was a tired man, consumed with worry. But that faded as quickly as it showed. "The mission on the other hand, is a little... odd. I spoke of the instability of the Wardens and the now possible Blight. Fereldin stands on the hot bed, they breached Ferelding through the south last time, and there is a chance that Orzammar could fall and the blight would come from the North. Its critical that the Kingdom remains intact to buffer this horde, or the world suffers.

We believe that the two events are now linked together, and that the neutralization of this issue will allow us to glimpse who is behind these disturbances and focus on them without a time table.

The Wardens have recently returned from an exploration into the darkspawn tunnels. We have strong evidence to believe that they were in search of a magical artifact that allows the user to control Darkspawn, and that they were successful. It is believed that after the seventh Blight, that the world will be rid of darkspawn and the Wardens fear a loss of their own power. Controlling this artifact would allow the Wardens to continue "Blights" and never loose their power by keeping the world in constant fear. But reports have also come in indicating that the high loss of members of the party wasn't from the darkspawn, but by the betrayal by the now current Warden-Commander, Valmyria Windstrider, who killed her own people to ensure her own power and took possession of the artifact. We don't know why she did this yet, but may use the darkspawn to crush the Dalish, who are in conflict with her people.

Since her quick ascension into the rank of Warden Commander, it is dividing the Fereldin Order. Not all of them are in on this conspiracy. We believe it was just the previous Warden Commander, the First Warden, and Valmyria. We need the order to be together as a symbol of unity.

Therefore, your mission, should you choose to accept it, would be to go to Redcliffe, confront the corrupt Warden-Commander and seize the artifact by any means necessary. You are to capture her and deliver her to Vigil's Keep or kill her. If she is delievered, a resolution in the order must happen on who will be the next Warden Commander. It won't be an easy fight. She is a seasoned warrior and former Ranger, able to counteract physical and magical attacks. She is most likely to have darkspawn with her as well. Questions?"

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Snafu's Mercypostle.

Denerim-Estate

Isador looked in to his wine cup, swirling its contents as he thought about Lord Cousland’s offer. The Commander of the Grey…..he thought as he took a sip of the fine vintage and looked around the room at those gathered. He left his gaze lingering on the elf pup who had insulted him. That one would apologize or lose a body part….maybe a finger. He looked back to his wine, thinking on the offer once more. He had no reason to say no….but the Black Axe wasn’t going to do this for free. “I accept your offer with a few terms.” He said, standing.

“First, I get twenty thousand Sovereigns.” He put his cup down, looking the Lord dead in the eye. “Second, I retain the right to break our contract at any time I deem that I am not equipped for this task.” Not all employers like that term, but Isador always made it; he wasn’t a fool to see a job to the end with his life. “And Third, you will do all in your power to make sure I am never bothered by the Antivan Crows again….if I am-and I do hope this doesn’t occur-I will hold you responsible.” That last one many didn’t understand until they went back on their word and Strauss came to hold them responsible with his boot on their neck. Most employers saw mercenaries only as tools and never see the tools they discarded coming back to take their heads.

“I don’t care for any ulterior motives you have…..agree to my terms and I'll go where you point.” He said in that cold, passionless tone as he brought his right hand to the shaft of his axe and lifted it above his head from where it rested beside his chair. “But first…” He brought down his axe on the table, nearly splitting it in half. “You, little elf will apologize for comparing me to liars and rapists!!” He shouted at Amir, his tone fierce but his face unmoved as if it were made of stone. His eyes dead set on the elf, the job was taken, time to sort this pup out.

-At the Gate-

Bill smirked slightly, only half heartedly paying attention to what Marcus was saying to him as he looked over his gear for a few moments, picking up pieces of armor and giving it a quick once over.

“I wish to keep these scars… even if he was a bastard, at some point Kevann was like a brother to me… I’ll be fine with the way that they are now.” The man’s icy cold eyes looked over to Marcus, the same smirk upon his face that was there before.

“And if you think that I’ll let anyone else crush the Stone Knights… then you just don’t know me very well yet old man.”


-The Estate-

A loud and rumbling clanking noise could be heard approaching the hall. It was very subtle at first but grew louder as the man approached the room that he had left earlier. Bill had returned in his full suit of armor, dressed head to toe in rough and rocky looking shell. By the sound of his movements it was clear how heavy the armor was, in fact a few stray cups fell over on the tops of tables whenever he took another step. Even more impressive were the two pieces of equipment that he was holding in either hand. His left held a shield that was nearly as tall and broad as the man was, completely covered in the same material that was on the rest of his armor. The shield alone probably weighed just as much as the armor did, it was thick and looked almost impenetrable. In his right hand he held a rather odd weapon, a curved club that was several feet in length. Upon a closer look anyone would have been able to tell that the weapon itself was actually a tooth of some kind, a massive tooth that could have only belonged to a dragon at some point.

“Hahahahaha.” The man started to laugh as he came to a stop in the room, gently resting the bottom of his shield upon the ground and his club upon his shoulder.
“You may have some of the others fooled, but I can see right through you… hell you said it yourself just now…” the man’s voice was booming from within his helmet, almost as if wearing the helmet amplified his words.

“Control… that is everything to you isn’t it? … Bribery and blackmail you say? Promises of protection, fame, and fortune?” Bill lifted up the front of his helmet to expose his face, just long enough for the man to spit upon the floor in front of Cousland. This man was just like his former leader, only the leader of the stone knights used personal fear and intimidation to get things done.

“I hate rich folks like you… people who think power comes from coin and influence… people who think you can buy your way through everything… piss on that. Even if you aren’t full of shit, you can’t buy my loyalty or trust with anything you have to offer.” Bill glanced around the room for a moment. Several people had already accepted the man’s offer, however he was uncertain whether or not the other people on the fence would side with him on this.

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Vovin bowed when the Teryn acknowledged him and he could not suppress a grin as his Order was subsequently acknowledged. He could not wait to tell Marcus the news, he was sure to be at least somewhat pleased that Vovin was on his way to achieving his goals. Just as the young warrior was thinking this, his mentor appeared as if Vovin's thoughts had summoned him. Vovin turned a beamed at the old man, arms spread slightly in a welcoming gesture. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, Marcus cut him off Vovin stood confused for a moment, but he was not so thick as to not pick up on the stressed words. Slowly turning his gaze on the Teryn, Vovin let power of the draconic spirit flow through him, allowing him to see...something evil. Dark power swirled around the Teryn's hand, the taint clear for Vovin to see. The spirit warrior very nearly snarled. Treachery! He would not stand for it! The Dragon Knight's fists clenched and he was once more on the threshold of speaking, but suddenly the Teryn was offering an explanation.



To Vovin that explanation...unbalanced him. It was valid enough, dark and malevolent spirits could, and have in the past, attacked foolish mages and the like. He had not specifically heard of one leaving a taint behind on an individual, but it was not impossible. Vovin wore uncertainty on his face like a flamboyant mask, anyone who cared to look would see the conflict in his head reflected on his visage. On one hand, Marcus, his mentor, did not seem to trust this man. While he had not said anything to outright oppose the Teryn, he had not sided with him. On the other, this could be Vovin's chance to bring honor and glory to the Draconis Order, the primary reason he set out on this journey in the first place. If he abandoned this quest now, would another arise? How could he know?

No, this was his opportunity, he may never find another. Despite his uneasiness, and Marcus's, Vovin would stand by this Teryn. Perhaps he could convince Marcus to change his mind. "Marcus, this is my chance. I do not know if any other is likely to arise. Maybe his is lying, maybe he isn't. We just don't know! But I think there is a real opportunity here and I am taking it. I would like nothing more than to have you accompany me on this quest, but I cannot make you. For now, I stand by my decision." With those words Vovin sat back down at the table. Although his short speech had seemed confidant, his mind was in turmoil. The warrior could not shake the unease that the black taint on the Teryn's hand had put in his mind. Not really paying attention to anything else that the Teryn was saying, Vovin sat, eyes downcast, trying to quell his tumultuous psyche.

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-Marcus Hammerstrike- "I'm only good at forging steel, not trust"





Marcus shifted from foot to fit lightly, trying to figure out a way of keeping his promise to Bill and to Vovin. He needed to help Bill with his troubled past and try to better the outcome of his future.. but Vovin was different. Marcus could never explain why but there was this nagging itch on his neck when the thought of Vovin being injured or worse. In the safety of the order he need not have feared, but now? Things were different. Already the young fool had signed his life to Spirits know what.
He hoped the boy would take his hint.

As if on que the young man turned to face him and let out the words Marcus didn't want to hear.



Never in his many years had the old forgemaster felt his knees try to give out the way they tried now, as if all the life in him had gone up in smoke. His pride would never let him show it to anyone. Yet... It never seemed like such a good option.
No! He growled in his head. Vovin is a man now. He must learn as I learned when the road unraveled below me. I will not chain him back to that order after he worked so hard to escape it..


"I.. Support you, on this atleast, Vovin. There is honor to be found in service but.. Please.. Do not throw away your life for someone else's dream." The pipe was lit and the warm smoke eased Marcus but did not rid him of the worry he felt in his stomach. This whole thing was wrong, filthy, unrespectable... It was the way it had to be for Vovin to learn. Marcus took a long intake from the tobacco, the embers lit up the smiths soft smiling face, but betrayed his eyes. A deep and profound sadness lurked behind the cold colors found in the light of his pipe, washed away in an instant with a long exhale and obscuring smoke.


By this time, the black axe was shouting and cursing at the two mages. Poor things.. Whatever shadow lay over their head was enough to frighten them worse than anything he'd seen. They hid it very well but Marcus had lived far to long a life and experienced far to much to let something like that simply slide under his vision. The mage's would be useful for more than just battle magic. One of them had to be a cleric of some sort.
First thing first.

Marcus turned his gaze to the shouting reaver with the monstrous black axe. The axe seemed familiar somehow. Coincidence most likely. "Isador. Please, calm yourself. The enemies are not seated at a table with you right now. I ask for just a few more minutes of humble quiet." The hard gaze turned to the loud mage and the tender one beside him. "Please, friends, there is no need to shout and curse or throw meaningless accusations. We have been asked to save the realm. I understand your hesitance here, truly I do, but I doubt this was ever a yes or no task. I will not ask you to trust the gods, or me, or the dainty lord, but I will ask you a humble request. No battle was ever won through brute force alone. The tender hands of a healer and one skilled on true magic would be a welcomed aid. Please consider atleast traveling with us for a short time to decide on whether or not you will aid the fight. I could ask no more from either of you." The flicker of a smile, a sincere smile, flashed across the elderly smiths face as the embers illuminated his face for another brief moment, once again receeding behind the wall of smoke.

One last obstacle.. True to his looks, the stone will not budge unless dragged. Doubtful he will let me. "Bill." Marcus turned from the others to face the Stone Knight, enough that his face could not be seen by them but Bill could see it clear as day.
Marcus had always been one to put on on a hard face and shoulder his burdens alone, but this wasn't something he could do alone. Not with Vovin involved. The full weight of his age had set into his face now, and the glimmer of sadness still lingered in his eye. "I won't try to force you into this. I know better. So instead there is one other option.. Remember your honor, Bill. Don't do it for the riches or the favors. Do it for the people.." He all but whispered, so none of the others could hear him. At the back of his mind he heard the same thing. Protect the future to come... Protect the boy.

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"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