Dragon Age: Reckoning

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Hirohashi, Oct 1, 2012.

  1. Two torches stood mounted on opposite ends of small room, their flames lashing and throwing shadows of two men to and fro. One was standing, pacing back and forth and garbed in silver heavy armor, a Templar. The head of the Templar order in Fereldin himself; Knight Commander Bradley. The other was sitting, only a small wooden table between him and the Knight Commander. He watched the other man with an even stare, his eyes never faltering from the scrutinizing gaze of the Templar before him. His face bore a strange tattoo, but stranger still was the one on his left arm. He was Garth, former magi of the Circle who was now recognized as an apostate by the Chantry.

    "You're not listening to me..."
    Garth's voice shook with irritation. "How do you Templars keep order over the Circle tower when you're all so--"

    "Hold your tongue, mage."
    Bradley snapped, cutting him off. "I'm not listening because you're just trying to get yourself in as little trouble with the order as possible. Here's a nice little slice of history for you to wrap your head around. You were a magi at MY tower. We allowed you to be among your kind and live in relative peace, safe from the outside world. You, however... saw fit to flee the first chance you got and now you expect me to believe in the short few month's you were away you found a group of blood mages when my men have seen no trace of them?"

    "All of that is irrelevant!" Garth responded, slamming his right fist down on the table. "and I have no interest in whatever self righteous crap you Templars tell yourselves so you can sleep at night. I didn't find them. They found me." his hand opened up and moved over to point at the blood red tattoo on his arm. "They did THIS to me! They'll do the same thing to more innocent mages if--"

    "Innocent mages?" Bradley scoffed. Garth's eyes narrowed, obviously not amused. "You never did explain just what that marking is..." he added, walking over to the table, supporting himself with his hands gripping either side as he leaned forward to get in his captive's face.

    "For the last time, that's because I don't know exactly what it is." Garth's answer came through gritted teeth. "They drew this on me in blood. I've tried to remove it myself, but it doesn't wash off or even smear. Do you really think I could have discovered this sort of magic on my own in a few short months?" Commander Bradley raised himself upright, letting go of the corners of the table and brought one hand up to his chin.

    "You do have a point there, Garth..." Garth himself was caught by surprise by this sudden change in attitude from the Knight Commander. Up until now, Bradley had referred to him simply as 'mage'. "The rest of your story is just far too unlikely to be believed. Believe me, I'd like for this to be as simple as have you serve your punishment and sent back to the tower. However... you've become a blood mage, Garth. You understand the position this leaves me in."

    "Finding the ones who did this to me is more important!" For the first time since his interrogation began, Garth was practically pleading with the Templar. "I got away from them. They hunt mages to add them to their cult. Let me find them for you... send some of your own men to watch me if you must! They must pay for what they have done! I can't let them take another of my kind and force them into becoming exactly what every person outside of the tower fears we are."

    Knight Commander Bradley raised a brow at the proposal, his hand slowing leaving his chin. "If what you're saying is true... we can not allow for the birth of more blood mages in Fereldin. However... we can also not allow the knowledge of such a group to be known to the public. It would cause a panic among the people. Denerim alone would be chaos. We will have to deny the existence any such organization." Garth was speechless, unable to believe that Bradley had finally listened to reason. "I can't believe I'm doing this... but I will allow you to find these blood mages. You will direct my men to their hiding place and then you will come back to the Circle where proper punishment can be issued. Any questions?"

    A wicked grin crossed Garth's lips. "Just one... Where are you keeping my staff?"
  2. The Hanging Man. The only place she had been repeatedly been spotted and also the last place she wanted to be at that very moment. Hunting for game only got so interesting until Tulaine gave it up, fishing through her bag for a couple of pieces of coin for a 'decently' cooked meal at the tavern. Not only that, but her arrows were growing scarce, and without the resources left behind in her camp, it was going to be a trial to forge more of the arrows. Harder even was the unsettling feeling of going into Denerim and into a shop, asking for arrows. One look at her and the tattoo spiraled across her face, she was positive the questions would begin.

    And begin they did.

    "Ah Dalish, 'round these parts? That's funny coincidence, that is,"the voice of the blacksmith crawling back into her memory. Tulaine said nothing, stuffing his palm full of coin for a dagger which now hung loosely at her hip side as she sat at the bar. The man gave her funny looks that day, always scanning her face and the attire, knowing he wasn't going get an answer as much as he was going to get laid anytime soon. Especially not from Tulaine. She'd rather propose to a dark spawn corpse than visualize a night with the blacksmith. That was days ago, and from that day, Tulaine made it her main priority to stay low unless she needed something to eat or drink from the The Hanging Man.

    But why, oh why, did Duran had to be there on that night at that time?

    Tulaine dropped her head when a table some footsteps behind her busted out in a hearty laughter, a few hiccups and gargling coughs mixing into the cacophony. She took a hard swallow of ale when one of the men, a dwarf, silenced the table just to say a slur of words that she couldn't understand, but to the others around him, it may have been the funniest thing they had ever heard in all of Fereldin. Tulaine tipped her head back, taking a hard swallow of the ale that warmed over time, burning her throat after landing in a numbing pit in her stomach, mingling with the bread and meat she managed to scoff down. It wasn't the best meal, but it was worth saving her arrows. She didn't want to chance finding Garth without a good supply of arrows at her whim.

    "An' then whadya say? Whadya tell 'em then, Duran?" Tulaine knew that the answer was going to be something completely overly stressed and over exaggerated, but that's just the kind of dwarf Duran was. A sliver of ale or a keg or two, and he'd tell you he was one of the very first Grey Wardens. Breaking her internal warning to not turn around and look at him...she turned around and looked at him.

    "Here it comes..."she muttered, resting two fingers on her temple, trying to force the last droplets of ale from her empty cup.


    Duran, being drunk out of his own mind stood up on top of the table looking down at everyone else. He still wore his armor proudly holding two mugs in his hand. Yeah he was known for being drunk most of the time, but any other time, folks knew Duran fighting the good fight and bashing Darkspawn heads until he passed out. He was a well known dwarf warrior around the parts, and that he could be relied on in the time of battle.

    "There I was..-hic!- In th' middle of the forest..Bout fifteh darkspawn 'roun me..And I had no weapon-sh wha'shoever... Luckily..I had one thing that would save my arsh.."

    All of the listeners, who were also buzzed out of their mind stared in awe and anticipation. They always looked forward to Duran's fearless tales as wrong and jumbled up as they were. Some of the other guys had to call for more ale so they could enjoy the tales to the fullest, because lets face it..None of them were going to remember the night anyway. The barmaids were always trying to keep up with the constant shouting but it was foolish because there would be four more calls right after one. The barmaids probably had the hardest jobs in Fereldin right above fighting the darkspawn, and should be the true champions.

    "What was it?!"
    "Comon n' tell us!"
    "He probably..got beat up by an elf.."
    "SOD OFF! I'm tellin thish tale..And if you..and you...AND EVEN YOU!" As he ended up pointing at a chair. "Don't like it..Can..go..Lishen to yer own stories..Now where was I?.."

    Duran showed a puzzled look, then lifted up both mugs in his hand up to his mouth as a good chunk of the ale poured off the sides.

    "Then..I pulled out my trushtee...twenty five pound salmon..And shent the darksphawn runnin home to ther mommies!"

    Everyone stared at Duran like he was crazy before bursting out into laughter and cheers. It was a tale of a true drunk, and it pleased everyone as Duran let himself fall backwards, breaking through his chair. But it didn't stop him from finishing up his ale and calling out for more. As he laid on the floor he looked over and the saw the familiar face of an elf he kept bumping into from time to time. Duran began whistling and waving over to Tulaine. He hoped that she would see him lying on the floor and respond back to him, chances are he was never going to get her name right while he was drunk ever.

    "HEY! ..HEY!....Yo...Youu?.....Er...Tulip...Tuna..Turk..ey?..Uh.."
  4. A wet and dirty dog made its way through the mostly deserted evening streets of Denerim, carrying a bundle of newly picked Elfears in its mouth. Looking from side to side, the filthy thing made sure nobody got too close. The road ahead being blocked by a group of drunken men, the dog slipped into an alley to circle around them. The alley smelled like something had died in there and never gotten cleaned up, but it was better than the alternative. Anything to avoid humans.

    The dog froze, and raised its ears. It was sure it had heard whistling. Not only would that be weird, seeing as there was nobody but the dog in the alley and there was certainly no reason to whistle. It would also be bad, because it would mean the dog wasn't alone.

    "Here, doggie doggie doggie... What's that you got in your mouth, eh?"
    Some voice said from the darkness ahead. That's when the dog noticed that the pile ahead wasn't just a pile, it was a man lying on the ground. Well, he was lying on the ground. Now he was sitting up doing that thing with his hands that humans did when they wanted the attention of a dog. The dog chose to ignore him, pressing itself towards the opposing wall in the alley to be as far from the man as he could. When the dog was right next to the man, it couldn't help but look at him. As their eyes met, the man jumped forwards and grappled the dog, holding it tightly to his own body. The shock of the attack, as well as the smell of the man pushed up in the dog's face, made the dog jump out of its skin.

    "What the.." The man said, befuddled and just as intimidated as the man he was suddenly holding tightly. The man with a bundle of what looked like flowers in his mouth. The man with the flowers, also known as Yesar, pushed the man with the smell away from his body and spat out the bundle. The man fumbled with some sort of weapon in his belt as Yesar, with eyes filled with fright, raised both his hands. Blue flashes of light jumped between the only two fingers that weren't covered in bandages, and the man got up to run as he realized he'd made a mistake in grabbing a mage. The man only got to take a few steps before his eyesight went white, and then black.

    Yesar let his hands fall down, and rested his head on the wall behind him. He was still in shock, and the burst of lightning he had sent at the man had drained him. No person had touched him in ages, and then this horribly smelly man just up and violated him and his boundaries. The man lying on the ground probably wasn't dead, but it would take some time for him to recover.
  5. The runes took a couple years to discover and few years more to discover and practice etching, and yet more years to be able to carve them so well. Burd sat hunched over his work bench in the private area he liked to work in. At this point of his work he had become so used to creating runes for equipment he didn't need magnifying equipment to be so precise, but he liked using them anyway. The cleverly bent lens made the finer details of the runes more clear as he carved them in.

    He was preparing for a mission, a secret mission. This one was supposed to be kept from the knowledge of the general populace, a cult of blood mages or something. The apostate they captured was supposed to lead them to the cult. Burd wasn't as prejudiced as the other Templars might have but he wasn't stupid, Burd was going to be wary and on guard. Being prepared for any eventuality was one of the reasons why he was being appointed the captain of this little group. Now he was adding the last touches to the gear he was going to bring with him. There was a knock at his door and Bradley's voice "It's time." Burd nodded as he finished carving the rune and set it inside a drawstring pouch with other runes he'd made.

    His items were packed up and the three other Templars who were going with him had assembled. Burd addressed these men
    "The apostate Garth is going to lead us to a cult who abduct magi and force them to become blood mages." One of the Templars piped up "Aren't all apostates blood mages?" Burd prevented himself from sighing "No, not all apostates are blood mages. We will be dealing with very dangerous mages. Be vigilant." With that, Burd turned about and lead his small party to collect Garth and be off.
  6. Taverns were a nice place to loiter; with just the right amount of care taken to look like any other hopeless waif drinking away his meager pay, he could sit in a smokey corner and simply observe everyone else, listening in carefully on their conversations as he sought out an opportunity to turn some coin. The facade hinged on the slightest of props--his own mug that he brought with him every day, not a completely unusual practice given the state of most taverns' vessels, that had a small, slow leak at the bottom; placed over the gap between wooden slats on the table's surface, the contents would drip slowly but steadily to the floor below, completely unnoticed, and he would not have to actually get drunk while playing this role.

    He was, however, strongly tempted to mark the Hanging Man off his list of places to visit. That dwarf was so raucous, Patril doubted he would be able to catch any scrap of useful information in this din. Though the shadow was strongly tempted to leave, he swallowed his grimace and took another 'sip' of his own ale; the depressed alcoholic he was pretending to be would not leave for at least another hour, so he was obligated to stay at least that much longer, to avoid being noticed.
  7. The Knight Commander had been gone for hours, leaving Garth with two guards who refused to so much as utter one word. They stood one on each side of the door, their full helms veiled their faces, a tactic the mages of the tower liked to believe was for unnerving the inexperienced students. Garth always had the suspicion it was so the templars could keep their eyes on the mages without them ever being the wiser.

    "What's taking Bradley so damned long?" Garth asked for the eighth time in fourty minutes. Neither templar answered him, or even reaction to the question. The same as ever. Garth was only testing how long they would put up with his crap, however. Luckily, they would no longer need to. The sound of a door shutting and footsteps approaching echoed through the room. Finally the two templar moved, each turning to look at the door when it swung open.

    "Speak of the devil..." Garth smirked, staring Bradley square in the eye. "I was wondering when you'd be back."

    Bradley scoffed and dismissed the two knights. After a quick salute they made their way out of the door, leaving the Knight Commander alone with the blood mage.
    "If you must know, I was collecting a small team of my men to escort you." Bradley's tone was very business like, apparently done messing around. "There will be four. One named Burd will be--"

    "Four? What are four of your boys going to do against an entire group of blood mages?"
    ‚Äč Garth rudely interrupted.

    "My four men will ensure you don't run off again. After you discover the hide out for this cult, two will be bringing you back to the Circle and upon their arrival I will dispatch more of my templars to either capture or eradicate the malificars." the plan seemed solid enough, so long as the two who stayed behind were able to avoid detection. It was a necessary risk, however. If the bloog mages picked up camp and left, they would need to be followed.

    "Yeah, yeah. Fantastic... So where is my staff?" Garth demanded, standing up from his chair and narrowing his eyes. Bradley didn't take too kindly to the gesture, but reluctantly turned and reached out to the side of the door. He had left it leaning against the wall.

    Bradley looked down at the dark grey staff he held in his hand before lifting his eyes back up to meet the stare of Garth, who had been watching him carefully the entire time.
    "Don't make me regret this, Garth." he said, tossing the staff over to it's owner. Garth caught it in one hand and eyed it, mostly out of relief that he finally had his staff back.

    "Oh, don't worry. You're not the one I intend to make regret anything..." Garth spoke without taking his eyes from his staff, his voice full of malice. His attention was finally pulled away when Bradley cleared his throat, now standing outside the room and holding the handle to the door.

    "At any rate, come with me. I'm taking you to the team that will be escorting you. Now."
  8. It was day of freedom for him. Finally, he was wondering the mysterious place that only had his gaze for so long. The market didn't seem as busy as it should be. People should be out enjoying themselves, because that is what Krillen Farrof was doing. Yet, a lot of people seemed so wrapped up in themselves that it was like they weren't even aware of the privilege they had. A freedom to just be outside of their own home.

    That was a little disheartening, but maybe there was just something Krill didn't understand yet. He would learn. He WANTED to learn. Under his hood, were thoughts. That was how most of his problems and things were solved. Most of his life he was in solitude and this didn't leave a whole of time to do anything else. Well, besides the other thing. The magic, healing other thing.

    His staff's bottom dragged on the ground and the scratching sound brought him out of inner brooding. He jolted and looked around. No one had noticed him or cared. It least he didn't prematurely shoot something at a poor soul.

    Commotion from what looked like an inn came onto his ears. There was cheering and song, or what he imagined to be so. Strolling, Krill came up to the door and knocked. Like a good person, he waited patiently. After a minute, he knocked again. Was there no one here? He could clearly hear people. this was odd. Why wouldn't anyone answer?
  9. The story went better than the last one. The last one, last week she believed, had something to do with 2 women, each one of searching for a man to help 'heave their luggage.' Duran had fun with that one, she could tell. This story was no less nonsense than the last one was, but did it matter to the attendants of The Hanging Man. Even the ones that weren't around the table joined in on the laughter. She wasn't sure if it was because they were also drunk or if the story was so ridiculous, it was actually funny. A shell cracked in Tulaine's composure when she found herself grinning as well. Good ole Duran.

    "Tulip...Tuna..Turk.. ey?..Uh.."

    Tulaine knew he was yelling out over to her from across the bar before he said the nonsense words. She no longer found him amusing. In fact, she down right despised him. For such a small dwarf, his voice carried a long distance. Once his stubby fingers twitched in her direction half of the tavern drunkards sent her a look. So much for trying to be discreet. Tulaine swore under her breath for the third time that day, clenching her fingers around the brim of the cup to prepare for another swig. Should she just ignore him as if she didn't know he was talking to her? He did look directly at her even though he said the wrong name, but, then again, he was already seeing triple.

    "Duran's talkin' to ya, sweetcakes." She snapped the bartender the hardest of glares for making the decision for her. He hesitated and slid his body over to the counter, suddenly remembering he had cups to tend to. Just as well. Tulaine didn't mind roughing someone up a bit. She knew it was the ale talking, but it already gotten into her system, latching on the sides of her head and making decisions she would normally not have thought of. For example, if it weren't for the ale, she wouldn't have stood up and wobbled over to Duran before slamming her cup on someone else's table. She wouldn't have thought that, somehow, that man in the corner had been staring for her for such a long time. And, lastly, she definitely wouldn't have added the Knight Commander and his whereabouts into her speech to Duran.

    That was ale for you.

    "Shut up, you big, stupid oaf. There hasn't been any salmon in these rivers since the Blight began! You don't know one thing about fighting Dark Spawn, let alone lifting up something like a fish. Fifty...fifty...Oh, so what, now you're a blood mage?" Unfortunately, Tulaine was still not in her right mind long enough to realize that she shoved the dwarf with her hand, making the already wobbly stability even more wobbly.

    "The Knight Commander will have your head when him and his group of dandelions go find those apostates! Your head! So, why don't you be a man and go do something useful and, I don't know, help a Templar or something. And you,"she snapped, swinging her mass towards Patril, her tan eyes dimming while she thrust a finger towards the door.

    "Make yourself useful and answer the door, would you?!" The knocking had gone out of hand and Patril wasn't doing anything but spying on them anyway. At least, that was Tulaine's guess. An ale influenced guess was better than no guess at all.

    Summary (open)
    With the influence of ale in her system, Tulaine suddenly becomes the center of attention once Duran calls her over. Now annoyed that she had been exposed in the open, she takes matters into her own hand by snapping at Duran, slipping out information about the Knight Commander and their whereabouts as well. Ale or not, Tulaine, being the Rogue she is, has noticed Patril staring in the corner. She demands for him to open the door that has been knocking for some time, now exposing him out into the open.
  10. Arvaraad entered the tavern to borderline chaos, normally the residents of denerim all silenced themselves whenever he entered. compared to this dispute between an elf and dwarf, both of which were clearly too drunk to find their backsides with both hands, let alone be in a brawl. he watched the spectacle from the door before sidling past the patrons who were quickly forming a circle around the two. Ordered a drink and stood by the bar, watching the drunkards from there.

    "Then..I pulled out my trushtee...twenty five pound salmon..And shent the darksphawn runnin home to ther mommies!"

    Arvaarad almost groaned out loud ad the inebreated dwarf's boast, though only the bartenter was sober enough to realize why.

    "Shut up, you big, stupid oaf. There hasn't been any salmon in these rivers since the Blight began! You don't know one thing about fighting Dark Spawn, let alone lifting up something like a fish. Fifty...fifty...Oh, so what, now you're a blood mage?"

    The Batender handed Arvaarad his drink and it was empty an instant later. "First a Darkspawn raiding party and now this," this statement was followed by what a listener could only assume was vehement cursing in his own language. he sets down the clay mug and wades through the crowd to life a very drunk dwarrf and elf up by their collars and take them out the back door.

    "The way you two carry on is disgusting." was all he said after he set them down.
  11. Duran tried to focus on Tulaine but his vision kept blurring in and out. At one point he swore he saw like three of her at once. Duran looked at his mugs then at Tulaine again before rubbing his eyes. They were irritated because he always rubs his eyes when he's drinking. From all the rubbing he did, his eye sockets should have wore away. You could definitely see how hard he rubbed up close. Duran was able to hear everything she said fine though, at first he took it as a compliment being called an oaf. Oafs were usually bulky guys anyway who..HEY! That was an insult. He fought more Darkspawn than most men here probably have, hell he was brave enough to stand in the face of one.

    "I'll have YOU..know...Tulaine..That I make Darkshpawn..check their..closhet fer me..."

    That might be true, Duran has sent more Darkspawn running than he could remember. Or that was because he found himself yelling at trees because half the time he goes into battle, he's drunk out of his mind. Now being drunk seems dumb, but it actually alleviates a lot of the damage he feels when hit, shrugging it off then feeling it later. Worth the trade to be a wrecking machine. Duran raised an eyebrow when Tulaine mentioned the Knight Commander and their location.

    "What...Shlow down..Knight Commando?.."

    Duran blinked, shaking his head of however much of his drunken state he could to really focus.

    "What about him, Tulaine?.."

    The Knight Commander and group were pretty serious business and Duran knew that they were always such pains in the asses and didn't listen to half the words spoken to them. Help a Templar?..Never before has he helped a Templar. Most of them didn't like him due to his rambunctious personality.
  12. Yesar snapped himself out of the shock, and staggered into a standing position. Avoiding the limp body, the apostate picked up his bundle of elfears and tried to walk away. His body still stiff, a few bottles and boxes tipped over and made a ruckus. Groaning, Yesar ignored the noise and stumbled away while trying to collect himself. Without paying much attention to his surroundings, Yesar made his way to a shop he knew well, so well that it was more his subconscious than himself that brought him there. The shopkeeper, an old herbalist woman with a crooked back and a smile and scent Yesar imagined a grandmother would have, looked at the bundle Yesar held, and up at Yesar. She stared into his eyes for a while, as if looking into his soul. Yesar couldn't do anything but stand there, still feeling the rough, dirty hand around his neck.

    The old lady finally nodded to herself, took the bundle, and walked inside. Yesar turned around, and walked away. He wanted to rest. Before he had gotten very far though, he was stopped by the old lady. She took his hand, and pressed a tiny pouch of silvers into his palm. "Here, dear. I always knew there was more to you than a dog. I won't tell anyone," the old lady said. Yesar hardly noticed her voice though, and kept walking away, pouch in his hand. Now, with a pouch and a little bit of money, an idea formed in Yesar's half paralyzed head. He remembered the drunk, happy men in that street earlier. He remembered the smell of alcohol, and followed his nose.

    Finally, Yesar came to his senses. He was sitting by a round wooden table, next to three men. One of them was talking to him, and in Yesar's right hand was an empty glass that reeked of ale. He was feeling funny, a bit hot in his stomach and a bit light in his head- but he felt good. Yesar smiled, met the man's eyes, and tried to focus on what he was saying in the ocean of voices that filled the tavern. It wasn't easy, but when he heard laughter and saw the man bend backwards while shaking, he realized he had been told a joke. He put the glass down, and laughed.
  13. Krill was very reluctant to enter after the big, gray, horned behemoth just strolled in. Was this normal? Were public places okay to enter without knocking? Should he with the noise coming out of there? Maker's breath, he may as well. Extending his palm, the door was shoved opened enough for him to walk in without having to touch the door again.

    The sight before was really strange. So much commotion and conversation that he might just have to leave. No, no that would ruin the point. It was freedom day. Then again, the argument in front of him was kind of stilling. It got better when the large one carried them out the back door. Probably to take their virginity, he thought. Krill had to see what was happening. Curiously, the mage followed their path and listening through the door. It was something he did often, as a child. A lot of children did, but that was how he learned what little knowledge of the world.

    "Hm. Nothing much." he said, ear pressed.
  14. Patril disliked being singled-out; he went out of his way to avoid attracting attention, and there that elf was, picking him out of the crowd like that. The moment his mug was empty, he took it as his cue to leave.

    He'd gotten all the information he cared for anyway, thanks to that elf cunt. The paladins were hunting up blood mages, were they? Patril didn't fancy magic much, but perhaps there was a reward to be had, he mused as he headed down the street, away from the inn. Time to go pay the paladins a visit and see what they had to say on the matter.
  15. Outside the horses were packed up, Garth was being brought and they had the specially made magic-inhibiting shackles, Burd had inscribed them himself. Everything was ready. Now they waited for the prisoner who was right now coming into sight being brought along by Bradley himself.

    Burd stamped his armor clad foot onto the ground, he and the men he was to be leading standing at attention as Bradley came near. Knight Commander Bradley gave them a salute and they stood at ease.
    "You know your orders, Captain?" he said to Burd. He gave a short nod in response. "Locate the cult and send Garth back with an escort while being discreet." Bradley grunted, satisfied with that. "Good luck" with that, and a last warning glance at Garth, Bradley wandered off to do whatever Bradley does.

    As soon as Bradley was out of ear shot a couple of the Templar escorts began complaining. "This is a trap!" "Why are we trusting a blood mage?" "I don't wanna-"
    "Enough!" Burd's voice cut through the complaints "We're doing this to protect people, this blood mage is our best chance of finding and eliminating this cult. Anyone who doesn't want to come along can stay here and explain themselves to Bradley." nThe other Templars grumbled but did nothing to indicate they would be staying. "Good. Now mount up so we can get this done. Garth you'll be riding along side me. Move out."

    The Templars and their charge stepped outside where packed horses for each person was waiting. Once Garth was up on his mount Burd took his wrists into his hands and locked the shackles around them, the runes glowing briefly. With the shackles on Burd swung himself up onto his horse, taking his helmet into his hands. "Garth" he said to the blood mage who was to be riding with him "For the sake of the people of Ferelden and your own life, I hope you are not misleading us" Burd put his helmet on then, giving Garth a penetrating look before his eyes were hidden from view. Raising his hand he gave the signal to move out, kicking his horse into a trot.
  16. It had been a disappointingly quiet walk outside with the Knight Commander to transfer Garth into the custody of the four templars that would be tasked with babysitting him. It was a necessary price that had to be paid for his revenge. "We're nearly there. My men are just through here." Bradley informed him, directing Garth through the court yard to enter the main hall. The Captain, named Burd if Garth recalled the sentence he had interrupted back in the interrogation room correctly, was the only one already standing with proper soldier posture before Bradley entered, causing all four to stand at attention and salute.

    The exchange between the Knight Commander and the Captain was short lived. Apparently it wasn't a convenient excuse for running late when he said he was briefing the others. After asking Burd one question to make sure he remembered their main objective, Bradley shot Garth one last glare before he walked off. Garth watched him carefully, keeping his eyes trained on the head templar until he walked through the archway and out of sight. When he turned, the templars were already muttering things among themselves. He caught the words "trust a blood mage" from one of them, earning him a scowl from Garth.

    Surprisingly, Burd cut the others off and demanded they either cut themselves from the mission or fall in line. In Garth's eyes it was clear why he was selected as their Captain, the other three seemed to act like undisciplined imbeciles without somebody to lead them. Once up on his horse the inscribed shackles that would inhibit his magic were placed on his wrists. He had wondered what the templars had planned to ensure that he wasn't a threat. Rather than protest and ruin his shot at revenge straight out of the gate, Garth played along, only narrowing his eyes in irritation when the inscriptions lit up to signify they were working.

    "Garth, for the sake of the people of Fereldin and your own life, I hope you are not misleading us." Burd told him before placing his helmet on his head and signaling the lot of them to move out. Garth found that curious. Burd surely knew he was a blood mage, but he had shown... concern for Garth's life? He did not want the sympathy of a templar. He wanted to see the Painted Demon group destroyed beyond recovery for what they did to him and who knew how many more of his fellow mages.

    "If it means getting my revenge on those bastards, then you have no reason to worry about me, Templar."
    Garth deliberately avoided using Burd's name, not even looking at him while he spoke. He was too preoccupied looking at the road ahead of him, mind still focused on one thing. "If you really do give a damn about my kind, you and your order will see this group abolished. They are the very thing your average civilian or naive templar believe a mage to be. They're monsters."

    Garth said nothing else until the gate to Denerim was behind them, the road with sparse trees and other vegetation on to the south of them and mainly grassland to the north.
    "We will need to follow this road for two days of travel then cut south, on the border of the Brecilian Forest. That was where I was ambushed. Their lair shouldn't be far from there." His hand pointed out the directions, just in case any of them weren't paying enough attention.

    "The Brecilian Forest? Great... that means we should expect the knife-ears..." one of them complained already when they weren't five minutes out of Demerim.

    "No! Weren't you paying attention? The mage said we'd be on the border of the forest. The elves don't often patrol the edge." another tried to correct his comrade.

    "I still don't like it..." the first piped up again. Garth sighed, lowering his head and slumping his shoulders for exaggerated effect.

    The rustling of leaves caught Garth's ear, making his head perk back up and his amber eyes to shoot from tree to tree.
    "...Odd." he muttered under his breath when he saw nothing there.
  17. It took about a whole 17 seconds for Tulaine to realize how out of place she was. It started when a giant figure loomed over her, gathering himself towards the bartender that she had merely left minutes ago. For an elf, even she thought she was crossing some lines of comfort and etiquette by entering the bar, but this giant figure was no human, dwarf, or elf for that matter. Duran's talking towards her was momentarily put on her hold, her eyes finally locking to the 'man' before the 17 seconds ran out. In that moment, all of her senses, as the Rogue she was, became instantly aware. There was a tight burning in her throat much to what would be felt like if one were chewing glass and finishing it off with a swallow of lava. The alcohol had done that to her and it was her decision to let it happen, so she would not curse at the feeling. Next, her eyes shifted, splitting objects and people in a half vision before they focused back into focus, also an effect from the ale.

    Lastly, she could literately feel the eyes of the bar people on her.

    "What...Shlow down..Knight Commando?..What about him, Tulaine?.." Tulaine snapped a look that told him 'keep-your-voice-down-or-you-will-get-a-dagger-to-the-throat' all while moving closer to him. Drunk or not, Duran had to know what she found out. The dwarf had become somewhat of an acquaintance to her, and now that she had some valuable information, she was going to need him to be alert and sober for it. Her eyes ever so wary on Avarrad (his name finally coming back to her), Tulaine bent low to Duran's ear.

    "Garth is with Knight Commander Bradley. I caught wind that they are keeping him with Templars, imploring him to seek out some blood mages." Her whisper was harsh and clear, though she knew Duran probably didn't catch heads or tails of it. Instead, Tulaine scoffed under her breath. She wasn't going to waste her time babysitting a drunken dwarf with the mage who's blood her arrows longed for was probably well outside the gates of Denerim. She had let Garth slip from her before; it was not happening again. Her senses finally in tact, save for a few blinks too many, Tulaine gave up on Duran, cursing the Maker for making him the only 'friend' she had since arriving in Denerim, before peddling herself out of the taven. After making such a big scene moments before, Tulaine spared the other people any more words or sideways glances, opening the door and leaving it at that. They could handle Duran by themselves.

    Once outside, the atmosphere did wonders to the effects of the air. It was no longer ungraciously hot, thank the Maker, for with the dropping of the sun also came the drop in temperature. The hues of blue and purple littered the sky meaning that nightfall was not far away. Which means this was going to be a hell of a job for her eyes. The dagger remained smoothly lined on the satchel of her hip, her Long Bow and a quiver of arrows secured tightly around her back. It may have raised a brow or two to see the elf waltz into the Hanging Man with all of her armor and weaponry, but with the way the racial confrontations were going, she wouldn't be caught dead having no weapon on her in Denerim. Some people, mages and Templars alike, just could not let it go.

    This fact brought back the memory of Garth when he found her clan's campsite. He wan't as hardheaded as the other mages were, but he wasn't the most polite of men either. He had seen things...experienced them, but he cared naught of the problem of the Dalish. Nothing but a bunch of rambling about dark spawn and blood mages. Some other words were thrown at her, words she kept safely in the back of her mind, and, when the time was right, she was going to let those words fuel her hatred for him and everything he had come to tell her. Her chance was soon, awaiting her right outside those emasculate doors. Taking in a wiff of air to clear her slight fuzzed head, Tulaine made a bee line directly for the door, walking briskly because a run would have turned heads. What was a Dalish doing sprinting through the streets of Denerim at that late hour? No. She was not going to be late in witnessing Garth's failure. Once the guards at the gate took one look at her, their noses upturning as if they smelled something foul, the gates of Denerim clanged open for her, and out she strode, making sure to keep a look out for anyone following nearby...or something potentially dangerous ahead.

    Summary (open)
    Now having come to her senses when seeing Avaarad, Tulaine fills a drunken Duran in on the information she found out about Garth and his whereabouts. However, due to his drunken state, she gives up on him and leaves the Hanging Man herself, waltzing out of the gates of Denerim to follow Garth, Burd, and the other Templars, ready to strike if need be.
  18. Duran was starting to sober up a bit, noticing that Tulaine was whispering to him as opposed to speaking in a normal tone. This was serious then. Blood mages were no joke, they were capable of serious magic and destruction and could hurt a lot of people. Garth himself was a mage, but not the one who would do any of that. But, the templars wanting him to search for blood mages? That sounded like a danger in on its own level..That's Duran's kind of adventure! Before he could respond to Tulaine she was already out of the tavern. Sodding elves..Always in a rush! He shook his head, quickly rising to his feet.

    Placing his hands on his head, shaking lightly trying to get himself fully focused and as sober as he could possibly get right now. Duran took a couple steps forward making sure not to sway back and forth. Step..Step..St-Step..Ah..There we go, he was good. Now he just had to grab his equipment, wherever he put it. Duran looked around the tavern swiftly trying to find his trademark bulwark and hammer. Where did he?..Right! There they are, by the wall he started at the beginning of the night. Man he sure made some distance since his time here..Since?..Duran looked up at the clock widening his eyes a bit.
    "Huh...8 hours.." Not nearly as long as his other records.

    Duran equipped the bulwark first. The bulwark was made of red steel and stood almost as tall as he was, it was covered with scratches and dents. It's been through many battles and soon many more, while his hammer has been with him since he was a wee lad. His father forged the hammer for the king of Orzamar as a decoration, but once the King passed it was returned to Duran's family where he was gifted with the hammer. From that day, Duran always takes his hammer onto all of his adventures, even to the Hanging Man.

    "Wait fer me!" He yelled as he quickly rushed out the door of the tavern trying his best to catch up with Tulaine. Curse his short stubby legs, least they had strength in them and weren't noodles. Luckily he saw her outline in the distance as she was heading out the gates of Denerim. Guess she was off to find Garth and assist him. He remembered Garth vaguely, he was a mage..Uh...And he was good at flinging all sorts of spells. Surely they were gonna need strength on this journey, and he could supply it. He came up the gates, seeing they were just about to close. "Sodding legs! Go faster!" He passed the guards who had to look down to see him sprinting as fast as he could past them and out the gates as they shut behind him. Duran shook his head as he finally caught up to Tulaine. He slowed down, while breathing and wheezing.

    "Y-..You..You could 'ov waited..fer..me..I..God..Sodding legs aren't built fer speed."