Don't have to live like a Refugee [Wardens, etc]

[jarin]

Andraste's Ass, what had Kallian ever done to deserve this?!

The red-headed elf was standing with her arms crossed in front of her chest, getting the run around from some uppity chanter named 'Devons'. At this point, Kall didn't care if he was the mouthpiece of the Maker or not, she wanted a straight answer. "Come on, shem!

[/color]" she groaned, wincing as the base of her thumb ground into the purplish bruise along her left side, one of many 'souvenirs' she had been privileged to receive at Ostagar. So privileged in fact that the fine upstanding shems of Lothering were glaring at her like she'd groan an extra head...and she wasn't even wearing her armour! "All I want to know is some information about the wardens and you're the first person who hasn't taken one look at me and told me that if I opened my big mouth again they'd cut off my ears and feed them to me!" At the halfway disgusted look on the chanter's face, Kall could tell she'd hit on something human within this mantra-chanting fool and she dared to hope for just a moment as she saw his mouth open that it would be something informative when--

"T-Take from me a life of sorrow / Lift me from a world of pain--[/i]"

"Maker's Breath! Can he honestly say nothing else?![/b]" Kallian hissed, glaring at the sniggering boy standing at the Chanter's side. Perhaps he was a kind of translator? An Andrastian herself [as were most of the Alienage], Kallian had seen no chanters before she had come to Lothering, though she knew of the Chanter's board. Sometimes elves from the alienage went out into the marketplace and posted notices upon it...not that the shems ever bothered. The chanters, it would seem, did not leave the board as she had met many priests and they had all spoken in perfectly understandable relevant sentences.

"H-he's a Chanter...miss," the lad piped up, ducking his head at her respectfully as she turned her piercing gaze upon him. "He can speak only the Chant of Light.[/i]"

"Well that's bloody annoying," she muttered, wincing as she clapped her palms to her hips--apparently taking a shield to the chest had been even stupider than she'd thought initially. Not that she had intended to be quite so spectacularly surprised by that hurlock alpha. "THAT'S BLOODY ANNOYING, D'YOU HEAR?!!!"

The chanter winced, spittle flecking his face as he blinked almost owlishly back at the young elven woman who had reached the end of her already strained patience. Wiping off his face with a kerchief, he merely sighed. "Though stung with a hundred arrows / Though suffering from ailments both great and small / His Heart was strong, and he moved on."

Visibly outraged, Kallian opened her mouth and then shut it abruptly, her pale face flushing with anger as she raised a hand and slammed her clenched fist against the chanter's board and sighed loudly, trembling as she suddenly felt hot tears prodding the back of her eyes like needles as a posting floated past her face as it drifted through the air, her punch detaching it from the board. It was a plea for someone's wife...someone's mother, who had been lost in the mad flee to Lothering after the horde broke through the lines at Ostagar.

Ostagar. Kallian could see the faces of the darkspawn and feel their hot blood on her face as she swung her sword through their ranks. It had been easier than she'd thought, fighting darkspawn. They weren't really as ugly as everyone had said, and she'd killed her fair share of shems as it was that the varied and mildly creepy creatures made a nice change. A few of her fellow junior wardens had been forced to go to the Tower of Ishal and light the beacon, a task she hadn't envied. But when the fighting got thick and the screams of groans of the dying had mingled with the shouts of despair and even courage from those who still fought...she had begun to keep an eye on the tower, waiting for that signal. And when she had seen that tower ablaze, it--

"Step aside, knife-ear!"

A rough voice pulled Kall from her musings and she jerked her head up, a hand automatically going for her blade and grasping at nothing but air over her left shoulder. A condition of the healing she'd received from the village elder upon her arrival had been to abandon her armaments in the older woman's care for at least a couple days--a decision she'd made reluctantly. And this was the first day she had dared venture into the heart of Lothering without her weapons. It followed, of course, that today would be the day she was confronted by a group of nosy--and armed--shemlen.

Standing her ground, plainly blocking the Chanter's board from view, Kallian glared back at the apparent leader of the rag-tag group, clearly she wasn't going to budge without a fight. "Make me." A childish and probably foolish response, yes, but Kallian had had it with these backwards shem giving her the runaround. If someone wanted to have a go at her, she'd at least have a decent opportunity to get a few solid punches in before they brought her down...and then she wouldn't need to worry about whether or not the rumours she'd heard about Ostagar, King Cailan, and the Wardens were true.[/size][/blockquote]

[Anceladar Firareth]

The sun had rapidly set as the group traveled through the Wilds after they broke up their camp in the little copse of trees. Anceladar had sprinted off to scout ahead and clear the way as much as possible. He was an elf, and he respected each and every life that he took, but he was uncharacteristic in the fact that he also reveled in each kill, especially darkspawn, and he wanted every kill to be his. Most of the time, they were. Lone scouts, or small groups that were quickly dispatched with an arrow between the eyes before they could even rush his position. There was a larger band though, right before the city of Lothering, dangerously close to the human settlement, one that he couldn't take out by himself and it would've taken annoyingly long to circle around. He couldn't take them all out by himself, so he waited for his party, and as they took out the main force Anceladar's deadly rain of arrows dwindled the ranks of their support and reinforcements.

Anceladar made a meticulous point of retrieving each and every arrow, they were special arrows, unique to elves and having remarkable and unprecedented piercing ability. Sadly, a lot of his stock had been lost at the Tower of Ishal in the final battle, so he took this time to replace as many as he could from Genlock and Hurlock archers, luckily their arrows weren't cursed like most of their other weapons, but neither were they special in any way shape or form. Oh well, he'd take what he could get.

Up ahead was a shady group of people on the road to Lothering. Anceladar was in no mood to deal with shady individuals, so he left a mark in the ground and hopped over the wall into Lothering outskirts, where many refugees had erected tents and huddled together. Surely they knew it wouldn't be safe here much longer, what were they waiting for? As he approached the town proper he saw more chaos, people scrambling about like Halla with their heads cut off, but what caught his attention most were two words, spat from the mouth of a Shem, those words being "Knife-ear".

His arrow was off his back in an instant, pinpointing the direction of the insult and quickly finding the culprit, one shem in a large group surrounding an elf by some board by a human Chantry. And then the elf's reply "Make me" he knew this would turn ugly quickly. He drew back one arrow and released it so it whizzed past three of their heads to pierce the sign post with a dull 'thud!'.

"Before you make any smart comments, know that an true elf never misses, so think about your next move very carefully"

If they tried anything, his next shot would see an elf-flight arrow through one of the shem's foot, piercing through the foot and into the ground, pinning him in place. Ance was a quick shot, he couldn't fell all of them at this distance, they get to him eventually, but he still had two elven short swords itching for some blood.

[Morrigan]

Morrigan was walking slightly ahead of Elissa and Alistair, following and retrieving Anceledar's markers along the way. She was not so far behind him that she could not see him, however there were times when she would just see him flitting away.

She did lose sight of him, and realized that there were some shady figures up ahead, and the marker that Ance had left in the ground pointed them over the wall rather than towards the unknown men. Morrigan left the marker for the two Warden's behind her and followed Ance over the wall. She was shocked to learn that she, much like Ance, had jumped almost directly into a hostile situation. She was not completely aware of what started this argument, but she was also not going to let her comrade endure this hostility alone.

Morrigan conjured up a little bit of fire at the end of her sta annood in an offensive stance.."I'd heed the young elf's words, men. We are not people you would wish to cross," Morrigan spoke in a threatening tone, knowing that many would recognize her as an apostate, if nothing else. She watched and waited, wondering if the other Wardens had missed their marker, or if they would join in this.

[Elissa Cousland]

Elissa trailed behind Morrigan and Anceladar with Alistair, finding she rather enjoyed his company much more than the other two's. He actually spoke and his jokes entertained her sense of humor easily. It was a nice change of pace at least. Despite that, her eyes were naturally focused on the two she didn't trust as much, watching Morrigan suddenly disappear off the Imperial Highway which they had been travelling on for a little while now. When they were close enough to the marker she caught sight of the shady group ahead.

"And I was starting to think the elf and witch might have left us," she said sarcastically, obviously not impressed with their whole jumping the wall instead of facing the shady individuals ahead. Kicking the mark into oblivion, as was habit for the trained rogue, Elissa turned to Alistair. "Guess they decided we need to avoid the group ahead. C'mon," she sighed, hopping down with Cross following right behind. She waited until Alistair himself was down before heading towards the Chantry which their comrades were in front of. It seemed a group of people were gathering, which caused her to quicken her steps. Seeing fire conjured at Moriggan's staff, the politically knowledgeable Cousland daughter cursed under her breath. Of course they'd be willing to make a scene in front of the Chantry. That was just what the Grey Wardens needed.

Elissa's irritation was shown clearly on her face as she stepped forward to place herself in front of Anceladar and Morrigan, not only for the tactical benefit (as they were ranged fighters for the most part) but to assert herself. "Or we could all simply step back," she stated, glaring at the group of men, "Let us be reasonable, for spilling anymore blood would be plain foolish after what has occurred at Ostagar." Oh she knew her words would most likely be futile, which was why her hands were grasping the hilts of her daggers, but it was in her Cousland nature to at least attempt trying to stop a pointless fight before it occurred. More death would be senseless, especially before the Chantry and Templars to boot. Not that Morrigan's blasted fire was doing anything to help them avoid their attention.

Cross all the while had take his place next to his mistress, snarling at the men that were the obvious threat.

[NPC]

Alistair was incredibly grateful to be traveling with Elissa, she was friendly and helpful, and willing to talk, which at a time like this, was incredibly important. They had formed a bond over the time they'd been traveling together, and it had grown to be very important to him in such a dire time.

The two of them saw the marker that Anceladar had left signalling to them to avoid the bandits ahead, and gone instead over the wall of the Imperial Highway into Lothering, where they spied the beginnings of a fight that, of course, the Apostate and Elf were right in the middle of.

Alistair sprinted with Elissa headlong into the situation in front of the Chantry. He cursed Morrigan under his breath when he stepped into the situation with the young Cousland. As he approached the skrimish, he heard the men who appeared to be the threat mumbling something about the Wardens.

"Now men, can we please handle this as adults?" he said in jest. He could sense that this situation was going nowhere good already, and he was only proven right by the stranger's next words.

"You're the Wardens! The ones that betrayed the King at Ostagar!" With that, the man lunged at Alistair with his dagger and of course his compatriots would follow to attack the rest of their party and the Elf that had been at the heart of the situation the entire time.

Alistair made quick work of the idiot who had lunged at him first, forcing his longsword through the man's thin leather armor and up through his ribcage. He realized suddenly that the young Elven woman was unarmed, and quickly removed his blade from the man's now limp form to defend her. He recognized her vaguely but so much had happened in the time since Ostagar that he was unsure of where he knew her from.

He stepped in between her and her attacker and knocked him on the side of the head with the pommel of his sword, effectively knocking the man over. He handed the young woman a dagger and turned to aid the rest of his party in their battle.

[jarin]

Everyone had been distracted by Anceladar's shout and a feeling of disbelief began creeping up within her as she narrowed her eyes at the Dalish. Could it be? No. Kallian shrugged off her hasty identification as the elf was quickly joined by a fire-slinging apostate who looked wild and unfamiliar indeed.

Casting a wary glance back at the shems before her, Kall started when she heard a familiar voice speak: "Or we could all simply step back. Let us be reasonable, for spilling anymore blood would be plain foolish after what has occurred at Ostagar."

Ostagar. Again there was that word, that sense of familiarity. And, of course, there was no mistaking the junior Grey Warden who arrived on her heels. That was Alistair, the warden who had led the others to the Tower. These were her wardens. They were safe. They were--"Flames!" she muttered irritably as the man screamed something about the Wardens and King Cailan and leapt at the ex-Templar, blade in hand, and Kall remembered that she was still unarmed.

"Stupid shem!" she hollered out, kneeing one of the men in the gut before he had time to react and then winced, staggering off to the side as she fought to recover. Apparently she was tender enough that even their light-to-nonexistent armour was painful to encounter. A shadow loomed over her and she hastily straightened, eyes widening in surprise as she discovered that it was Alistair, coming to her rescue.

Making a soft tsking sound as she accepted the blade he offered, she twirled it experimentally in her hands and shot the warden a look as if to say 'What d'you expect me to do with this?' before she gripped it solidly and returned to the fray.

Vulnerable and exposed as Kall was with her armaments in the care of the village elder, she was not going to let her wardens fight this battle alone. "How dare you speak ill of the Wardens?! We were betrayed just as much as the king!"

[Azalea Valdea Amell]

A heavy sigh escaped from Azalea as she trudged reluctantly forward. Her gaze settled upon the ground, looking up only every so often as to make sure she didn't collide with anything. The young mage lifted her right arm, her eyes following the long, just barely sealed wound that jaggedly made it's way from her shoulder down to her wrist. Carefully she traced the reddened trail across his skin and flinched slightly at the sensitivity of it. Though she herself was a healer, Azalea found she couldn't heal the wound entirely, but in a way she didn't mind. It would make a neat scar after all, and what's a Grey Warden without a few battle scars right? She cracked a very small smile at the thought. The freshly made mage Warden still could not believe the events that had happened to her in such a short amount of time. She and Anders had escaped the tower, and she had reveled in the taste of fresh air, the warmth of the sun, and the pure bliss of liberation. Azalea had truly been happy at that point in time, and she was thankful for being able to share such a moment with a friend.

However, the freedom had almost been snatched from her just as quickly as she had attained it. It had been a few good weeks before the Templars had caught onto the two mage's trails, and they had nearly been able to drag them back to the Circle of Magi before an older Grey Warden by the name of Duncan had snatched them up from the Templar's grasp. Azalea had been so awe struck when first meeting the Warden, having only read of them in stories, but it was they and Anders who had inspired the girl into dreaming of the privilege to walk into the world without being bound inside a cage. Duncan had offered to Azalea a place amongst their ranks, and to her surprise, the mage had found herself agreeing. Having read so much about them, Azalea realized that upon becoming a Grey Warden herself, her ties to the Tower would be null and void, and so her eagerness had only intensified. Sadly, what Azalea had not realized, was that by leaving the cage of her past behind, she would only be stepping into another one. A cage in which would be much harder to escape, and a cage that would cause her pain and endless nightmares.

Memories of the battle rushed through her mind once more. She could remember the blood details of the Darkspawn as the marched towards them, their horrible cries piercing into the night sky. The fires that burned behind them, the destruction of their deadly march. The fighting was long and full of blood shed. One by one Azalea witnessed casualties on both sides, each death more gruesome than the next. The mage knew she had to hold on, had to wait for the signal from her fellow wardens, the signal that could very well have turned the tides towards victory. Just as all hoped seemed lost, the fire blaze atop the tower of Ishal, and Azalea found herself nearly whooping in relief. The battle would soon be theirs! But, it was not so. The one man who could have helped to end it all, the one man who could have saved so many lives, fled the scene of the battle, taking all of his men with him. Despair consumed Azalea, knowing that they would all soon perish. The battle was lost, all hope was crushed. Many fled for their lives, thinking the same as the young mage, but a god deal of them had lost their lives on the initial escape, even Azalea had almost lost her own as the instinct of flight became to over-powering, instead only becoming injured during the escape. She had thanked the Maker that Anders was alright, and that he had made his way back to her as they vanished from the field.

And now, the two found themselves on the road to Lothering. Azalea knew not what else to do. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere and cry out the images that were burned into her brain from the battle and the tainted visions that plagued her dreams. It was maddening. However, there was a glimmer of hope that shone dully in her blue-green eyes. Perhaps any remaining Wardens had made their way to the village, and if there were any, maybe they would know what to do? They couldn't just let Loghain get away with what they had done to them! The Wardens were pariahs now in the eyes of the citizens of Ferelden, for they believed that they themselves had murdered the king. It was unfair.

Azalea froze, lifting her head form her pained daze out into the village of Lothering. She prayed to the Maker that there was someone here who could help, anyone. Looking to Anders, she gave a tiny nod. "I suppose it would be best to look for possible Wardens here. Surely any survivors would have made it here." She stated with another sigh, moving forward once more. Azalea stepped lightly down the stone steps, careful as to not trip over her robes. She glanced about her, feeling rather uneasy at the hostile glances she received from various refugees and villagers. Azalea looked down again, still feeling their heated glares boring into her. Gee what a warm welcome.

The mage found herself drifting closer to Anders, feeling a little less tense being next to him. "I just can't believe everything that's happened. It's like one huge nightmare." She grumbled, glancing up every so often. Well, at least she still had Anders. Azalea would been lost without the older mage alongside her. He made good companionship, and just his presence seemed to lift the burden on her shoulders a bit, offering some relief. The mage hugged at Anders' arm for a brief moment, feeling temporarily like a small child again clinging to an adult after just having a terrible fright. A few short seconds she let go, laughing slightly.

Her attention was brought towards the chantry as a commotion began to stir in front of the Chanter's Board. Curious, and suddenly forgetting about the rude stares from the villagers, Azalea tentatively made her way to a group of agitated refugees and a few familiar faces, though she couldn't seem to place names with the faces. But no matter, these were other Wardens! She knew they were. And this delighted her. It would seem though however, that these other armed men were furious, one of them even shouting accusations of how the Wardens had conspired to kill the king. This infuriated Azalea. Her eyes flashed with rage and quickly she grabbed at her staff. The young mage rushed forward, staff raised and pointing towards the nearest attacker.

"I'll teach you to disrespect the Wardens!" She cried out angrily, sending out a blast of snow and ice, freezing her target nearly frozen solid. Azalea held her hostile stance, her staff still raised, waiting for some idiot to dare attack her or her fellow Wardens. "Come on! Come at us, I dare you." The mage growled vehemently. Azalea surprised herself at her mood change. She knew she was prone to losing her temper, but perhaps with the mixture of the betrayal of Loghain against the king and the Wardens, the gruesome scenes of Ostagar, the pain inflicted upon her as well as the lack of sleep due to the nightmares, she seemed to just snap. Azalea would not simply stand by as her fellow Wardens were being subjected to such traitorous lies. Though each of their faces were only vaguely familiar, she still felt a bit of connection to them, seeing as all of them were now in the same boat.

[Anceladar Firareth]

"Let us be reasonable, for spilling anymore blood would be plain foolish after what has occurred at Ostagar."

When the lordling and Alistair stepped between Anceladar and his prey his eyes narrowed to slits as he almost audibly hissed. He should've known they'd get the wrong impression, protect the humans from the crazy and evil elf without looking or thinking there might be a valid reason for his actions, noooo, Creators forbid the elf could be trying to protect someone, prevent a fight perhaps, which was ruined when the two bumbling idiots involved themselves.

He hadn't taken much of a look at the elf he was trying to help, just a flash of short, bright red hair, but as the battle broke out and he heard her cry about the Wardens being the ones betrayed he knew she was at Ostagar, perhaps a fellow Warden? He couldn't tell, at Ostagar he stayed out of everyone's way, and he spent no time worrying about it now as he released two arrows in quick succession, one finding a man's left eye and the other was left sticking out of another's neck.

Truth be told he could've kept his distance and rained death from afar, but he sensed that with three Wardens, a mage and a warhound this battle would be over quickly and he wanted his own share of the excitement, so he replaced the bow behind his back and unsheathed his twin shortswords, Deathdancer and Moonstrider, and leapt into the fray and let his bloodlust take over. When the elvhen traveled much of the clan did not have much to do when the hunters were out, so it was quite popular to hone their skills in whatever they enjoyed. Anceladar enjoyed combat, more so than was normal, and he trained constantly with Master Ilen, the only one who had been able to match his skill. But during this battle, Anceladar didn't focus on killing, he just wanted to hack and slash.

Group battles were fun, he remembered when a group of shems attacked their caravan during their travels, the Clan found Ance in the middle of a good-sized group with all enemies scattered around him, none dead but all incapacitated. It was how he operated, attack all at once, attack where they least expect, their unguarded parts. He ran headlong into a clustered group of three, one turned to him just a fraction too late as Deathdancer pierced his eye and Moonstrider arced out to the man on his right as he ducked and slashed his thigh before the elf slammed his full weight into the man, toppling him and slamming the same sword into his sword arm.

As he stood he saw one man get frozen solid, thinking it was Morrigan, he lashed out with a backheel, breaking the man's torso clean off, which fell to the ground and shattered into many tiny pieces. Anceladar was a bringer of death from any angle and any range. This battle would be over quickly.

[Elissa Cousland]

[OOC: Ok so I'm just gonna include a short little Anders post in the midst of this one so it's more explained what he is doing during this lol.]

Elissa's eyes narrowed as the man shouted and attacked, pulling out her daggers. "So much for that," she grunted, though believing that any chance of avoiding of a fight had been ruined the moment the elf and witch decided to get involved. The Cousland had hoped they could stay under the radar for a while until information was gathered, but no. It seemed subtlety was not in the group's interest. At least she had proper targets to take her anger out on for now. Cross let out a menacing snarl, he took down a nearby enemy and brutally began to maul him. Dashing forward, her daggers made contact with the Mabari's target's throat and sliced it clean open. Blood flew, decorating the ground, Cross, and her cheek. Sometimes, as sick as it was, bloodshed was pleasing. Especially when you were pissed.

Then the red-headed elf spoke, effectively catching Elissa's attention. That was one of their other comrades! More had survived!

She then noticed a man sneaking behind Alistair while his attention was adverted by Kallian. Without hesitation she rushed at the enemy, backstabbing him brutally followed by several more stabs in fatal areas by her free dagger. The man slumped to the ground and Elissa kept at her friend's side, flanking him. Whoever came their way would be damned.

---

Well, life had been hectic lately to say the least. Anders truly hadn't expected the Grey Wardens to come to their rescue last second, but was glad for it. Even then, he had personally declined the offer for becoming one of them. He'd take his risks being an apostate rather than a Warden for now. Sure, it had its appeals, but he was not a fool. Every good thing had a price. Still, it had worried him when Azalea agreed to it.

Yet, now they were here in Lothering even after the tragic losses of Ostagar. Azalea had been separated from her new comrades, but they still stuck together. He had thought she would've ditched him as soon as she was a Warden, but they remained close. "I'm sure we'll find them," he said encouragingly, though wondered how true his attempt to encourage her even was. Realistically, they should have all been dead. It was a miracle these two had lived, and he knew it. He just couldn't bring himself to be brutally honest right now. As she drifted closer to him, his amber eyes peered curiously at her. The young mage was already changing, becoming more bold in her actions. It was endearing in its own way. "Well, at least the Templars aren't hunting us as actively, what with this Blight and all. That would just be cruel," he joked lamely, trying to make her feel a little better. What he hadn't expected was her sudden attachment to his arm. Blinking slowly, Anders opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Instead, he simply smiled and didn't comment. Moments like these never lasted long- and of course just as he had such a thought she suddenly let go.

"Sad to think this town is going to be in ruins in a few days," Anders muttered dryly, feeling pity for the villagers. Someone would lose their home, and others... their lives. War always caused losses, but this was more than a war. They fought against true evil, not fellow man. Silence seemed to fall between them as they continued to walk further into town, ignoring the large mass of people by the Chantry...

Only he realized when close to the local tavern that Azalea was no longer with him. "Damn it!" Anders cursed at himself for not paying attention, looking around fervently, "Azalea!" Great. Just great. It was just his luck that he'd lose his friend in the middle of a refugee filled town.

---

Yet another new voice shouted out, and Elissa recognized the girl as another fellow Warden, this one from the Circle formerly. Seemed they had all had the same idea, meet up in Lothering! That was a good thing though. More people to either spread out and go to more places, or to have their currently planned groups made larger. However, that was something to think about later.

"Traitors!"

Parrying the blade of another, Elissa grunted from the force. They were locked together, but Couslands did not back down. And neither did their hounds. "I refuse to take the blame for something Loghain decided to do!" she hissed. Suddenly his arm was in the jaws of her giant Mabari Hound, and before he knew it her daggers had entered his torso and shredded him. That was three down by her blades and Cross's jaws. How many more were there...?

[Morrigan]

Morrigan didn't really care for such large and obvious fights, preferring instead to stand back and let loose with something large and vehement to take care of a small group of people who posed a threat to her. This misunderstanding was something altogether new to her.

The two groups seemed to have been evenly matched, each Warden taking out his or her fair share of foes very quickly and efficiently. Morrigan had hardly had time to react with anything other than a quick blast of flame to the face of her direct opponent before the fight was over.

Morrigan stood surveying the carnage that had taken place in front of the Chantry, thinking what an oddly peaceful sight it was at this moment in time.

"'Tis a beautiful thing, this pile of dead bodies in front of your place of worship,"she said simply."Tell me, does one often commit murder in the face of one's Maker? Or is this, in truth, a rarity?"

The young witch could hardly contain herself, and was doing well indeed to not have let loose with a tyrade of rude and unpleasant humor. She could feel the eyes of all the humans around on her, silently wishing her harm. She cared not, however, and continued on.

"Should we perhaps leave the scene of the crime before the Templar's are set upon us or stand here to be persecuted in the name of a non-existant god?"

[Anceladar Firareth]

The fight was over before it really started, which was really disappointing. Then again, how could he expect a group of run-of-the-mill Shems to provide a challenge for an elf? Or a mage, or sort-of Templar? Even Cross seemed to have more combat training than these thugs, thinking they could cash in on a bounty of those who'd fought, and survived, at Ostagar. Granted, they'd been out of the main fight, being at the Tower of Ishal instead of the frontlines, but nobody else knew that. Morons.

He let his rage settle and very slowly cleaned his blades before sheathing them again. He surveyed the carnage and scanned over his companions for injuries, of which there were none.

"'Tis a beautiful thing, this pile of dead bodies in front of your place of worship. Tell me, does one often commit murder in the face of one's Maker? Or is this, in truth, a rarity? Should we perhaps leave the scene of the crime before the Templar's are set upon us or stand here to be persecuted in the name of a non-existant god?"

Anceladar smirked, he liked how Morrigan thought, their witch companion that had been thrust upon them, was turning out to be more helpful than Elissa and Alistair, who had also been thrust upon Anceladar. She had a point, but he ignored her for the moment, instead walking up to the elf for which they intervened, but seeing a lack of Vallaslin he made a face and stopped, suddenly losing interest. "My apologies, I thought I'd come to the aid of a fellow elf. It seems I was mistaken." He said coldly as he turned his back on the red-headed city-elf. He wasn't a fool, he recognized her as a Warden, but her significance to him was less than that of a fly at the moment, he had no patience for those who'd given up their elven pride and honor, whether by choice or not.

He strode over to one of his victims, the one he slashed their leg tendons and crippled their sword arm, knelt over and hoisted him up by his jerkin and brought their faces dangerously close. "You and I are going to have a little chat, shem, you're going to tell me everything I want to know" He snarled before walking off, dragging the poor man whimpering behind him behind a house a little ways from the Chantry.

[aeducan]

It had been a long way from Ostagar as he stepped out of the local tavern as he had been indulging himself in drink keeping a low profile that he was a Grey Warden. He knew their kind wasn't welcome in this area, and due to his armor most people around the town assumed him another dwarven mercenary. As he made his way toward the rock bridge he could hear the sounds of screams as women with kids fled the area. There were tons of refugee's here, and many of them didn't live here just passing through stocking up for the long trips. Buliwyf stopped at the top of the bridge looking over to the Chantry where it was obvious that the commotion was coming from that area.

He slung his Dwarven War Axe over his shoulder resting his forearm on the hilt holding it balanced on his shoulder. He made his way over leaning against the brick wall to watch the ensuing chaos. He had muscled his way through the crowd that had formed watching the battle. It wasn't hard for the stocky dwarf to muscle his way through people almost knocking them off their center of balance. As he finally made his way to the front of the crowd he began looking amongst the scuffle. He was curious if this was something he could jump in to, or if perhaps someone might need some assistance.

As he looked amongst the people involved in the incident he had noticed a few of the faces including Alistair. He wouldn't engage in this incident as he could have some of Alistair's companions not recognizing him as an ally. He stood back watching the skirmish continue also noticing Morrigan. He had gotten separated from the group during Ostagar, he couldn't quite remember exactly what had happened as it seemed very fuzzy to him for some reason. He rested his war axe onto the ground as he began stroking his blonde beard wondering just how capable the rest of this group was at combat as he couldn't quite remember if he had seen them fight yet...at least not all of them.

The scuffle had come to an end, and Morrigan made a very long yet amusing question about the practices of the humans religious beliefs. For Buliwyf they had spilt the blood of Darkspawn across Thaigs all over the Deep Roads even on top of stone tombs. It was not an uncommon practice for them, but then again what was when facing the Darkspawn.

“By the stone the lot of ye survived!” he said in his deep razzy voice.

[jarin]

Wiping the bloodied dagger on the tunic of a dead shem, she slid it into her waistband and straightened, admiring the small complement of surviving wardens and...random apostate? Kall wondered briefly where her fellow wardens had picked up the scantily-clad woman when she made some snark about the Chantry and Kall rolled her eyes, distracted by Ance's swift approach. Clearly that woman was a rather stupid apostate if she was going to be casting magic and mouthing off right in front of a chantry wearing...whatever she called that ensemble of rags and feathers she had that barely covered her lady-parts. It was really somewhat disgusting, she thought, as she watched with some surprise as the Dalish elf's expression hardened when she turned to face him.

"My apologies, I thought I'd come to the aid of a fellow elf. It seems I was mistaken."[/b]

Her mouth opened in surprise and closed as he spun on his heel and stalked off toward one of their unfortunate victims. It took a half second more of Kallian's cheeks reddening in anger and embarrassment at being snubbed in such a fashion--and by a fellow elf, no less--that she was slow to snatch at his shoulder and missed, growling under her breath as she searched for an appropriate retort. "At least I'm not a sodding fairytale!"

Oh Maker. Kallian put a hand to her temples and kicked at a still-warm body, wincing at the scare protection her leather boot offered against the impact. Was that really an insult? Andraste's flaming pyre, the alienage brats could've dished out something better than that! she thought glumly, still fuming at Ance's back as he hedged a shem and began dragging him off. But how do you insult an elf? A Dalish? Most elves in the alienage didn't even believe they existed!

"See these ears, ya dumb brute?" she hollered, flicking them toward him in a gesture she very much hoped was rude. Thumbing-your-nose rude, even. "They're as real as yours, and pointier, too! They make me an elf, same as you. Even if you do look like a half-wit playing with that little stick-shooter of yours."

Yes...mock his equipment. A fine start, Kallian sighed and grumbled something to herself about 'stupid uppity knife-ears' and then turned her attentions to the dwarf warden. At least he wasn't a shem...Or insulting, she thought as she glared pointedly at Ance. Clearly someone had woken up with a bad case of fleas.

"You made it!" she called out, smiling at the dwarf as she moved to stand by him, marveling at his apparent lack of injury. "Missed a fight, though," she remarked as she looked down at the downed shem. "H-how did you g--," she stopped mid-sentence and shook her head, her smile slipping a fraction. How could she expect others to willingly relive something like that? They had survived...that was what mattered.[/size]

[Azalea Valdea Amell]

The skirmish seemed to end nearly as soon as it began, which kind of disappointed the young mage. A part of her had been itching for another fight, but then another part of her just wanted the battles and wars to just simply cease. Azalea wasn't sure why a sudden blood lust had come over her and why her temper had sky-rocketed far above the normality. Maybe the whole Joining had screwed with her mind a little more than what she expected. She shook her head in slight confusion. The mage remained silent for a moment as another woman spoke, a mage Azalea noted. She took the time to unravel the ebony ribbon from her golden locks and quickly tie it back to make her hair a little more tidied up. Which was a good thing too she thought because her hair had looked so riled up and feral when she leapt into the fight.

The mage narrowed her blue-green eyes slightly at the long commentary the raven haired mage had given about their "non existent god". Azalea turned her attention away to view the rest of the wardens, and she felt a flutter of joy as she recognized the faces. Each and every one of these Wardens were the same ones she had met during the Joining. A little smile found it's way onto her face as she looked each of them over, racking her brains for a name each time she landed her eyes upon one. There was Alistair, the one who had informed them a bit about the Joining. Elissa the noble woman from...from...Highever she believed. The Dalish elf Ance--Anceladar or something? And then the red-headed city elf...Kallian? Yes, that was it.

Azalea was left pretty much speechless, unsure as how to speak to the older Wardens. She watched as the Dalish elf dragged away one of the wounded men away behind a house in an attempt to interrogate. The appearance of yet another familiar face approached the group with a hearty shout. The blond turned her head towards the form of a dwarf, Buliwyf if she remembered correctly. Another little smile formed onto the young features of the mage. They were all here! All of the had survived!

"By the Maker we're all here. All of us! And to think I had almost lost hope." Azalea stated, thinking allowed and musing with herself. Truly, it was a blessing all of them ad survived, and even more of a blessing that every one of them had made their way to Lothering. Was it purely by chance, or did all Grey Wardens have some sort of ability to track each other down? Not that it matters now anyways. It was then with another sudden realization that she had strayed away from Anders. Cursing herself to did a quick turn around, trying to see if perhaps the older mage had somehow followed Azalea's angered dash through the crowd. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She thought with irritation towards her stupid choice. She wanted to depart from this area in search of her friend, but, instinct made her want to stick with the Wardens for fear of losing them as well. Perhaps the group would stick around here for a few minutes, and perhaps Anders will have by some miracle find his way to them. Azalea remained at a small distance from the group, hesitation and her shyness kicking in. Now in the Circle, Azalea was not ever quite so nervous, in fact, she was the opposite on most days. But now, being free, away from the Tower and without her dear friend and guide to the world Anders was missing, she found herself to be very fearful. Azalea knew she shouldn't be, but she was. She tried to hide such feelings though, not wanting to make herself appear far braver than what she was. The mage wore the same mask she had during the Joining Ritual, when truly she had never been so terrified in her life. Not even the encounter with the demons in the Fade had scared her so much. Azalea stood up as tall as she could, listening as the other Wardens began to chat idly amongst themselves.

[Elissa Cousland]

In the end, Elissa stood above one of the last to fall with a grim look upon her face. She hated this.

Sheathing her blades, blue eyes looked at the crowd around now. It seemed most of Duncan's most recently made Grey Wardens had survived. Kallian, the elf who hadn't been utterly cold to start off with, unlike some, Azalea, the young mage girl, and Buliwyf, the dwarf from Orzammar who apparently had been sent to his death in the Deep Roads before Ostagar. They were... an odd group altogether, herself included. But, numbers were always a relief. She just hoped they would be more reasonable than their lovely Dalish companion had been. Speaking of...

Anceladar took it upon himself to drag away one of their enemies. Her eyes narrowed considerably at him, feeling rather livid. If it hadn't been for him, they wouldn't have had to get into this damned mess in the first place. And now he was insulting one of their fellow Wardens and just going ahead with whatever he felt like? "Yes, let us insult our allies!" she said loudly, her glare not wavering, "Bloody supremacist elf." She had never, in all her years, met such an ass. Okay, she had, but right now that did not matter. She had also never went out of her way to verbally separate elves and humans, but he had angered her to the point of doing it.

Cross whimpered sadly, licking at his mistress' hand. He was pretty sure now that there was pretty much no hope of the Dalish elf and her ever having a friendship. Ance was a good man, but his hatred ran too deep for humans. It saddened the hound.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Elissa Cousland rested her hand on her Mabari's giant head and scratched at it lovingly. Her opalescent eyes flickered back to the group of newer companions and then up at Alistair. She wondered what he thought about all of this. They had been lucky enough to all stumble into each other, but that made their numbers a lot more and that meant if they were already splitting into two groups as initially planned they would need to know this. "I'm glad to see so many of us made it in the end," she finally said, glancing around. So far no Templars were upon them, but she doubted that would last long. "We have things to discuss, but I believe it would be best if we moved from the Chantry," she suggested.

She stepped forward and started off towards the opposite direction of the Chantry. Whether or not they followed, she continued to walk. Her anger had subsided and left her with weariness at this whole situation. She stopped after a bit in a more secluded area near some homes. They hadn't gone too far, just in case Anceladar decided he would need to come back to report something, though part of her wondered if he'd even do it the way he'd been acting.

Turning to whoever may have followed, Elissa crossed her arms over her chest and smiled somewhat. "Some plans have been made, but with more at our side it would be best for you all to know, obviously," she started off, "After we got our bearings here in Lothering, we had the plan to split apart. I'm not sure if you all recall, but those Grey Warden treaties... We plan to use them to gather ourselves an army for this blasted Blight. Even with our slight rise in numbers, we're nothing against the bulk of the Darkspawn horde, sadly." Cross barked determinedly, agreeing with his owner. "Anceladar and our new companion we... acquired on the way, whose name is Morrigan, are going to split from Alistair and I after this place. They will head to the Brecilian Forest with the Dalish treaty. Meanwhile- Alistair and I plan to head to Redcliffe to gain Arl Eamon's support against the traitorous Loghain, which we will need," the Cousland paused for a moment, looking at each of them once more, "I suppose that leaves us with two choices to decide upon now that our numbers have grown. Either you all divide between our two current groups or we create another group that can head to Orzammar or the Circle of Magi."