Dragon Age: Shield Maiden's Journey

Thedas. 9:30 Dragon. The Fifth Blight is just starting to show signs of being a TRUE Blight, in southern Ferelden. After King Cailan's defeat at Ostagar, the Order of the Grey Wardens is all but gone. Teryn Loghain Mac Tyr stands as regent in wake of the young king's demise. Unbeknownst to most of the country, the only two surviving Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden are Alistair, a recently-inducted former Templar with a smart mouth, and his companion. The details on this other Warden are unclear- most of what one hears is mere speculation. Is the Warden Recruit a female? A Dwarf? A Mage, even? All speculation. But that is a tale most already know, it is a tale for another time.

Our story takes us to the north of Ferelden, to a Teryning known as Highever, ancestral home of the esteemed Cousland family. It is not a forgiving land, it's soil and landscape as tough as it's people. It is here where the story of Aimil Cousland begins. The last surviving member of her family after a vicious betrayal by the Howe family, Aimil has managed to escape her family home, and with the help of her steward Valerius Whitehall, found passage to the city of Denerim. Aimil has much to learn in the ways of the warrior, but it through the help of her steward that she will find her true calling, avenging her family, and discovering a dark secret her family has held since the First Blight. Only by gathering her allies and making some unlikely friends will she be able to grasp her destiny and protect Ferelden, maybe even the whole of Thedas, from an ancient evil.

This is the official thread for the Group RP Dragon Age: Shield Maiden's Journey. The OOC and Character Skeleton/ P{rofile threads will be listed below, in their respective subforums.

OOC: http://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=44460

Characters: http://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=44459

First Game post to follow after this one.

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The Gnawed Noble Tavern. Located in the heart of Denerim's Market district, this establishment of inebriation, this taj mahal of alcohol had been something of a Denerim institution among newcomers to the city and residents alike. As the heavy wooden door opened with a tired groan, the smell of vomit and spilled ale wafted out, assaulting the senses of anybody standing too close to the entrance. In this case, that somebody was Sir Valerius of Highever. His nose began to twitch, his brow wrinkling in a mixture of nostalgia and disgust- bars like this were common throughout Thedas, but it was only here in Denerim where the smells of an alehouse managed to combine with the smell of rotting garbage and wet dogs to form an olfactory assault that, could it have been bottled, the Qunari would undoubtedly have used as a new form of weapon.

Stepping through the doorway with his charge- the young Lady Aimil Cousland- behind him, Valerius awaited the young noblewoman's entrance as he scanned the room, looking for a nice, quiet, and preferably clean place to sit. Nodding to the bartender, who nodded back in response, the aging knight wasted no time in snatching up the chance to pull aside a comely young waitress. Depositing a single golden Sovereign in her palm, she smiled at the warrior before directing him towards a back room to the right of the bar facing away from the entrance.

With discretion he came back to his charge, whispering in hushed tones to the young noblewoman. "My Lady Cou-" he hesitated, catching himself. "My Lady Aimil, I have taken the liberty of reserving us a private room where we shall not be disturbed. We should take the opportunity to plan out our next steps while we are here, ma'am." he whispered, eyes darting around to make sure nobody saw him.

Aimil Cousland no longer felt like a lady, even if her guardian continued to treat her as such. Her once glorious hair was cut short and ragged to hang around her ears, the sparkling eyes that hinted of her mother were dull and supported by dark bags. They had traveled for quite some time to get to Denerim, having stuck to the edges of the road and trusting no one, it had been almost unnecessarily long in her eyes. By this point, the stench of wet dogs and piss was almost familiar to her, and she stalked into the tavern as the best sell-sword she could act like.

The walls were dull and fading, the floor creaking and broken, it seemed hard times had begun. Aimil was taking in the dreary room when Valerius returned to her side. She thanked him with a small, half-smile and waved a hand for him to lead on.

There were a few scattered guests, a couple she recognized from her father's halls and feasts, some she only knew by the crests on their breasts. "Not much to plan," she said softly to Valerius, "Find him, kill him." There was venom in her tone, but she didn't dare raise her voice too loud, and not even a single head lifted from their drinks. At least here she wouldn't have to fear of eavesdroppers.

Nathan had noticed the two newcomers enter the bar, but paid not much attention to them. He sat at the bar, taking large swigs of liquor straight from the bottle. Nathan had lots of values on him, though no gold coins. He had small gems and rare materials with him from his days as a miner, having them on hand because he knew that the world outside of his mine shack valued currency. He hoped that this would suffice, and he paid for his drinks with some of the lesser, tinier gems he held on hand. He said nothing as he simply placed small little rubies and other crystal shards on the counter, where the barkeep would take them and replace them with a bottle of alcohol rather than a cup. His alcohol limit seemed to be never ending.

A sigh left his lips. Less than...who knows how long...since he left Byr, and he has barely managed to see anything fun or exciting. He turned in his seat and looked to his shovel laying against the counter beside him. He looked at everyone within the bar and then looked to an artifact he pulled out of his pocket. A small golden totem. He had found it lying on the road on his travels...and it has brought him nothing but good luck, except for when it came to excitement.

As Valerius led the way to the private room, he could hear the telltale signs of somebody having had too much to drink and messing with the wrong person. Somebody in the room opposite the hallway they were in was making a ruckus, roaring about the 'Crimson Oars' or some nonsense. Valerius knew it was only a matter of time before the fool would pick the wrong wanderer to tangle with and end up permanently silenced.

As the two entered the private room, Valerius ordered himself a drink before sitting at one of the provided couches in the rooms sitting area. Reaching into his pack, he unfurled a map or Ferelden across the table, holding the corners in place with books and various bits of decor from around the room.

"My Lady, as you know this"- he said, pointing to the map's northern area, near the northern road to Denerim. "Is High ever, with Amaranthine closer to the East. Now, we have been traveling as far as Denerim"- he said, moving his gloved finger to the city they were currently in. "And that's where our trail goes cold. We know it was Rendon Howe who did this, but we cannot say why for certain. It is.... Reasonable to assume that Howe seeks to garner land and political power from his treachery, but if the rumors are true and he is under the employ of Teryn Loghain, it would be unwise to attack him outright."

Leaning back, he awaited his charge's response as he contemplated the situation. Howe, Loghain, King Cailan, the battle at Ostagar.... They were all connected somehow, but something was there that the old veteran just wasn't seeing.

Looking over, Nathan had noticed the woman look at the totem he was carrying. He thought nothing of it, and actually moved over to sit by her. He made certain not to forget his bottle either as he moved over, and drank some of it before speaking to her. "Aye...I see you've taken an interest in this little trinket I've found lying about, miss." He said with a grin as he held it up to show her more clearly. "A golden totem! Must be valuable right? Though...This be my good luck charm as well. Its brought me many a good luck...I wouldn't part with it for the world." He laughed and placed it on the desk, and turned to look to the woman. "Tell me...Whats your name? Do ya know of anything interesting going on in the world? I come from a far away place to travel the world...Yet I've found little to no excitement since I had left."

"King Cailan is dead...? This is news to me." He replied as he leaned more into the counter with his back. He frowned and began to think on the matter of how he found the totem. "Well...About two days after I left home, I found it lying on the ground in the road. I thought it was odd how it was standing upright as if someone just placed it there and walked away...I stayed for a few minutes, thinking the owner would return, but he did not...so I took it." He shrugged and offered her the rest of his bottle.

"Not much of a drinker, are ye?" He laughed heartily as he draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in. "Another two bottles over here! One for me and one for the lady!" He placed a larger gem on the table as payment for the two bottles of booze, and popped the tops off of both bottles. He handed one to her, and grinned as he began to down his own as if it were water and he were a desert dweller. Within seconds, the bottle would be empty and placed on the table. He truly had the skill of a dwarf when it came to drinking alcohol.

"Oh come now...You can do better than that! Drink! Drink! Its offending to a dwarf if you don't accept his liquor! Oh...Excuse me...I know I am human but I was raised as a dwarf since birth...My name is Nathan Stone. Born and raised in Byr with dwarves. And what is your name?" He smiled and reached over to take his totem back finally, and pocketed the trinket. He truly felt much more lucky with it on his person and felt uncomfortable having it left out in the open where anyone with itchy fingers could have taken it while he was distracted.

He laughed at her, seeing how giddy she seemed to be after all the liquor she had drunk within such a short period of time. "Well then, Syl! We're drinking buddies from here on out!" He began to chime happily and sing songs of dwarven origin before some ruffian came over and grabbed him by the collar, and threw him to the ground. "Shheeeyut the fuck up already! Yer damn songs are gettin' on mah last damn nerve!" Nathan stood up, angrily as he reached for his empty bottle and smashed it across the man's head, causing it to shatter upon impact and send the man onto the ground, unconscious.

Nathan nodded as he held his head in pain as he had hit it on the way down. "I'm fine...I'm fine..." He murmured as he looked to Syl with a frown. "I'm going to leave for a bit...head to my room at the hotel...Do you think you'll be alright alone, Syl? You're a bit...giddy and ditzy from the alcohol...like a newborn dwarf drinking its first bottle of rum. Do you need me to walk you anywhere in particular so you don't get mugged or worse on the way?"

He nodded, and helped her out of the tavern by wrapping her arm over his neck as he picked her up. He grinned to her, winking lightly as he walked out of the tavern and toward the hotel that was down the road. He walked past the front desk, and up to his room where he put her down. "Don't waste money on a room...Just stay here for the night. I can sleep on the floor! It'll be just like home!" He obviously was not very...social as he had no idea how this could have came off. Getting her drunk, only to bring her to his hotel room.

"Woah...This what they call magic?" He said as he felt his head feel much better afterwards. He grinned, and rubbed the side of his head and felt no pain whatsoever. "Magic woman!" He said playfully and stretched. "Dwarves don't care much for magic...but I always found it to be interestin'." He smiled a bit, and showed her inside his room. "There's the bed you can sleep on...And here's mine." He laid down on the floor and stretched a bit, and used his own arms as pillows as he laid on his back. "Sleep whenever ya want. I'm gonna be busy...playing mind games. A lil trick I taught myself to keep me busy. I learned to play cards in my head without a cheat system! A bit weird I know...but I don't share the same desire for mining like my dwarven brethren do...so I had to come up with somethin to pass the time."

He saw her lay down on the ground, and laughed. "Then I guess neither of us will use the bed...I wasn't even going to use it when I bought it. Its just nice to feel safe in a room rather than sleeping outside on the floor where I can get mugged in my sleep or something. Go on. Sleep on the bed. Unless you want to truly sleep down here with me?" He laughed lightly. "Elves. Interesting lot, you all. Though I've never met one in person until I met you. I've only read about 'em in Dwarven books and you fit the description of a non-biased book. Beautiful and forever young."

"Well now little lady...I could sleep up there in the bed with ya if you need me to be but you might get the wrong idea if I suddenly drape an arm around you in the night." He shrugged and leaned up to look at her, seeing her on the side of the bed nearest him. "If you prefer that anyway. I'm a real gentlemen...probably not like a lot of humans around here who'd take advantage of a drunk woman. I ain't like that. I was raised to be strong an' proud, honorable!"

He got up off of the ground and moved to lay next to her. However, his back was to her and he was a little curled up as he slept on the soft cushion that was the bed. He smiled and yawned a bit. "Good night...Might as well play some cards until I pass out from fatigue..." He murmured as he closed his eyes and continued to play cards, trying not to make things too awkward for her even though he didn't really care that the two of them were sleeping in the same bed. His only concern was that this might have been just a trick and she was really just a thief here for his golden totem...but it was a risk he was willing to take. Besides...the damn thing was his lucky trinket.

Aimil waved the waitress away even after the man before her ordered something, perhaps it was odd, by the look on the young wench's face but she said nothing of it. The woman slid into a comfortable spot and pulled off her gauntlets, they were well worn now and they clattered as they hit the table.

"Unwise," She repeated softly after he had finished, shifting noisily in her seat. "Any attack on any house is unwise, Valerius." Aimil tilted her lips downwards, almost into a scowl, but quickly she was trying to wave it off, the pinch of her eyebrows betraying how frustrated she really was. She felt bad for taking it out on him, he was faithful and more than a servant to her family, he was a loyal friend. It occurred to her there that she hadn't been the most kind of traveling companions. She had the decency to look pained, "I apologize. But we're so close, more waiting is just.." she shuddered, "unbearable."

"If Howe is working for Loghain then his forces-- the King's forces would be against us." The knot between her brows returned and she pressed her fingers to it. "We cannot take on an army."

Valerius knew his young charge's mind was abuzz with thoughts of revenge and murder, her heart heavy with loss and the feeling of defeat. He knew Aimil must have felt that way because it was how the old warrior himself felt, and he wasn't even related to the Couslands. The journey in and of itself had been difficult, let alone fleeing the estate whilst it was burning around them, crawling with Howe's soldiers. To the old veteran it felt like a slap in the face to every man that had died under his watch. They were good men, honorable men, and to have run like that..... Valerius swore Howe would pay somehow.

"I know the wait is.... painful. It's not what I would prefer to do either, My Lady, but you must understand that the situation calls for patience. You are right in that regard, that it would be us two versus an Army. Even if we could avenge your family, the political implications... even if we do manage to avoid death or imprisonment, as long as the pauper Loghain sits on the throne, you and your family name will be branded as traitors and exiles." said the older warrior, leaning forward. Removing a single scaled glove, he reached into his pack and pulled out four glittering golden Sovereigns, laying them on the table.

"My lady, this is all I have left of my time at the castle. When I signed on as your trainer and steward, I swore to your father and mother that I would keep you safe with my very life, that I would wade through the Fade itself if you so commanded. But you must trust me when I say we must keep a level head about us for the time being. We have to find allies, wherever we can, people that for one reason or another stand against the Teryn." he said softly.

Relaxing his posture in the seat, he pulled one leg over the other and turned with a soft smile to the waitress as she sat a mug of mead before him. With a bow, the young woman left, as Valerius took a sip of the refreshing honeyed beverage. "I met him, you know." he said, looking intently into his glass. "Duncan, that Gray Warden. An admirable and strong man if I ever met one. He was supposed to be scouting for potential Warden recruits at the castle before Howe's attack. He was supposed to be at Ostagar." he said. Looking up, he pinched the brow of his nose in frustration, trying to think of some place- ANY place to start.

"Perhaps...." he said, standing and walking around the room. "I've heard rumors of late that there were survivors at Ostagar. Wardens, Milady. Mayhaps finding them, even following their movements could give us some insight as to the best course of action." he said, taking another drink. "Last I heard they were in a tiny village to the south, some place called Lothering."

Unbeknownst to Valerius and his charge, a ruckus was underway in the opposite end of the bar. In the room with a large hearth blazing with fire, those men from before who were boasting about being Crimson Oars were picking another fight. It was over quickly, there was a commotion, sounds of fighting, people crying out in agony, then silence. A group of travelers came from the room covered in blood- a young blonde male warrior, a mystifying young female mage, a red-headed Orlesian girl, and a mabari war hound.

"You know, Morrigan, things were going well until you decided to set his foot on fire." said the young blonde warrior. "My dear Alistair, whatever gave you the impression I wasn't trying to set YOU ablaze?" replied the female mage. As the party of travelers made their way out of the bar and back to their own business, the waitress that was attending to Valerius and Aimil came back to their room. One look was all Valerius needed to tell she was shaken with fear.

Denerim seemed just like any other city. The rich suppressed the poor, the poor suppressed the elves, and everyone came together like one big, happy family to suppress the mages. The streets seemed friendly enough; riddled with pickpockets, thugs, and the occasional cheap whore crawling with more diseases than you could count on both hands. Dezrith didn't exactly live the high life, but he made do with what he had. So long as it meant he wasn't plagued by memories of how much of an asshole he used to be, to put it fondly, it was already paradise. As far as how he paid for his living, let's just say a clever tongue goes a long way.

"I really would rather not argue, serrah, but the ring is mine. I picked it up."
"Ratshit! I saw it first. I just can't run as fast as you with all this armor. Now I demand you hand that ring over to me."
Dezrith naturally feigned fear, as much as anyone would have upon being battered with insults by a templar. "I'm afraid I can't do that, serrah. Sixty sovereigns is far too much to simply let go of."
"Did you say sixty sovereigns?"
"Aye, serrah. My father was a jeweler. I'd notice this cut from a mile away. The diamond's a masterpiece.Edgeless, smooth as a pearl. Took weeks on end of soft, precise cuts. A single wrong move and the diamond became coarse, and you had to shed it and start over. One this big? Worth sixty, sixty-five sovereigns, easy."

It was bullshit, but well-worded bullshit. And, as if on cue, the templar's eyes widened with greed. It seemed amusing that these holy warriors were supposed to be the most resilient of men against the demons of the fade, considering how easily their own desires and pride overwhelmed them completely. He didn't even consider for a moment why the rag-covered peddler before him didn't just bolt off with the ring, nor did he think it more than simple ill luck that he hadn't taken his sword with him, making it difficult to simply slit Dezirth's throat and be done with it. But for the mage, draped in torn, earth-brown garments and covered in soot to mask his facial features, it was simply a matter of clever planning and an easy target.

"Hand it over. Now. Or I bring you to the chantry kicking and screaming. By the time they find out you're not a blood mage you'll be muttering incoherently for weeks." the templar bluffed, the words rasped slowly and spitefully past clenched teeth.
"R-r-respectfully, serrah," Dezrith said, bowing his head down low as he backed away fearfully, pretending to tremble as his hands twitched violently. "It seems only f-f-fair that we each part ways with h-half the value... Perhaps if you were to pay my half - ?"
The Templar scowled with an interruption, rummaging through his coin. The order did have circle magi and tranquil working with them to make sure the non-magical were not wrongly accused. Of course, to his knowledge, the bluff had worked regardless. To Dezrith's, however, things were going exactly according to plan. "Here. Fifteen sovereigns. That's all you're getting. Now hand over the ring and get out of my sight before I change my mind." he growled, exchanging the small handful of sovereigns for the ring. Not only was the Dwarven-cut diamond not diamond at all, but neither was the gold base of the ring. It was simply tin coated in a golden finish. Total value? Exactly seven silvers and eighteen coppers. Dezrith was only happy to run like hell with his well-earned gold as the Templar pocketed his worthless bauble. The mage couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he turned the corner, quickly undoing his disguise - eight coppers - and tossing it in the most convenient alley.

Dez had never really considered himself much of a friend to anyone, and yet for some reason many of the downtrodden folk in the city seemed to love him. The elves were particularly grateful to the man who kept buying their cheap jewelry and old rags, and the alley-whores seemed very fond of curling up in his forsaken disguises on an especially cold night, considering their typical, skimpy outfits weren't exactly optimal for cold weather. He wasn't exactly much for duping honest men, mostly because most of his schemes took advantage of the avarice and vanity that most honest men did not have enough of to fall for his tricks. But the fact of the matter was, however accidental, that since coming to Denerim, Dezrith Reinhart had been a good (if not exactly honest) man.

"Another satisfied customer."

Dario had become a regular at the tavern, often sharing stories with mercenaries, prostitutes, and other vagabonds. Today, he had chosen to drink with a local group of Crimson Oars. They were a few pints in, when it became Dario's turn to share his tale. Before each round, they would smack their mugs against the table and chant some kind of cheer about being a Crimson Oar or something, Dario wasn't really paying attention. This was because he was too busy eyeing a woman sitting next to him, and he was a little tipsy.

"So there I was, right? It was me and this guy I used to know, named Felipe. Our mission was to snipe some Orleasian Ambassador and some other guy from Highever. This was like six years ago, they were doing some kind of peace meeting. So I--" Dario paused mid-sentence when some boy near the bar started to sing loudly.

"Soooo, I pulled the string on my bow back, waiting for my shot. Felipe was aiming for the Orleasian, I was focused on the other--" Once again he paused, this time the whole table stared at the man with the totem. A look of annoyance, furled in Dario's eye brows, as he once again tried to continue the story.

"ANYWAYS... we sync-- OH MY MAKER. I will pay the next man ten silver, if you manage to shut that drunk up." Another thug angered by the Dwarven tunes, got up and tried to deal with Nathan. After the boy and elf left, Dario stood up and made his way to the bar to order two more drinks.

"I'll take two pints, on the house?" Dario said with a smile as he flipped up his eye patch and winked with a perfectly fine eye, before concealing it again.

"Oh c'mon, Dario, you've had plenty on the house today." complained the bartender.

"This is how you treat a friend? What about when I stopped that drunk maniac last night? Besides, there's this Crimson Oar who's giving me those puppy dog eyes, and I want to see what diseases I can fetch from her!" pleaded Dario.

"Fine!" huffed the tavern owner, as two drinks were poured for Dario. On his way back to the table, Dario dropped ten silver onto the unconscious man, a deal was a deal after all. He then chugged one of his pints down, and then gagged, almost vomiting. He regretted the decision before continuing his story and starting on the other pint.

"Anyways, we sync up our shots, and hit both ambassadors in the neck, AT THE SAME TIME. Blood was spurting everywhere. It was actually quite beautiful. The end. Now, how's about me and you go meet a mutual friend of mine at the Pearl?" he said to the lady on his left, trying to finish the story as quickly as he could.

"I'm married."

"And I'm no longer interested!" Dario exclaimed as he left the table and stumbled out of the tavern, passing a man in raggedy clothes on his way to the Pearl.

Aimil pursed her lips at her steward, "I'm not Your Lady anymore," she reminded him, her tone was soft, but the pain was there. At least they could agree that caution would win this for them, but the idea of allies was puzzling.

"Who would be willing to attack the right-hand man to the King Reagent?" She asked in a hushed tone, leaning forward over the table. Aimil sighed heavily and folded her hands over each other on the table, wringing them to keep them busy. 'Who would have been willing to attack us?' her mind countered, she only became more sullen. "And how would we find them? Put up flyers?" There was a hint of old humor in her tone, but it was quickly swallowed up by the sound of combat in the other room. She tilted her head to the door when it was over in only a few moments. As the strangers emerged she eyed them up, twice on the tall blonde warrior, but the eyes of her father's oldest friends made her turn away.

The banter was amusing, but the drunken words of a man at the bar caught her attention, 'and some other guy from Highever', it was enough to lift her head. She made a face at Valerius and sat up in her seat further to peer out. It seemed to be an unsuccessful attempt to bed someone, and the warrior woman settled back down. "Perhaps we should buy some swords?" She pulled out her own coin purse, no longer did it overflow, but she had enough to get them along for a little while longer.

"My Lady, surely you jest. Not my lady anymore?" said the aging warrior, a fire growing behind his eyes. "Now, in case you haven't noticed, would be the time to stop being down, grow a spine, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. The teryning is lost, your family slain, yet here you sit hopeless and dejected, acting like a starving kitten!" he roared. Valerius was thankful that the room was away from the rest of the bar, and thus he could raise his voice in relative safety.

"You are the last surviving Cousland. You are LADY Aimil of Highever, and so long as you hold that blade of yours your family and your spirit cannot and WILL NOT DIE. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and get MAD!" he preached. In a way, Valerius knew on some subconscious level that he was also speaking words of encouragement to himself. So many lives lost, each and every one of them having died in place of he- a man who, by all accounts, should have perished long ago.

Sitting down with a sign, he knew that frustrating the young woman and himself would lead them nowhere. They had to plan accordingly, but Valerius had never undertaken a mission of this sort before. Most of his combat experience leading others was straightforward military procedure.

"I suppose hiring sellswords would be the easiest course of action. We have few allies, and desperation is a smelly perfume. The only problem, apart from lack of experience, would be finding sellswords who are loyal. Mercenaries only lust after one thing- coin. Whoever has the most, in this case Loghain, is who they are loyal to." he said, his expression turning sour at the mere mention of hiring mercenaries.

It was unmistakable, hearing the voice that mentioned something about 'some other guy from Highever' in an assassination attempt. No doubt it was likely some fool grandstanding in an attempt to try and bed a local tavern maiden, but the voice said it occured roughly 6 years ago. Valerius could vaguely recall a member of the Cousland family having been murdered on a diplomatic mission around that time, and as a rule the old warrior did not believe in coincidence.

Rising from his seat, he made a motion for the young female to wait there as he donned his gloves once more. Making his way towards the source of the voice, he kept his senses on full alert for anything unusual. Finding nothing- the person whom the voice belonged to must have left- Valerius came back to the room looking a tad more angry than before.

"You heard that too, right?"

"I hope Isabella is in today, most of the ladies can be a little too lavish after the deed. Do you catch my drift?" Dario mumbled as he stood with one hand pressed against the building he was urinating against. The Chantry priestess was not impressed as she crossed her arms and mentioned for the Templar to apprehend him. Dario started to come to as he came to a startling revelation.

"Oh Maker, what have I done?" Dario said as he had a momentary shock of sobriety.

"You've pissed on Denerim's most sacred temple, is what you've done!" retorted the Templar.

"Oh no, not that. I forgot my weapons in the tavern. I can't go to the Pearl unarmed!" he said walking briskly back to retrieve his bow and arrows. The templar and the preistess stood stunned, not knowing what to do.

He stumbled back in, a certain growling in his stomach trying to exit through his throat. He returned to his table, and found his equipment surprisingly not stolen. He smirked and reached down for the armaments before falling off balance and knocking over a table. Some ale slid off and onto a fellow patron, who furiously stood up wiping off the spilled beer. As Dario slung his quiver over his back, he was startled to see the man towering over him with a fiery look in his eyes. Dario gulped and did the only thing that came to his mind.

"Excuse me sir. But I must apologize for my drunken nature." Dario said trying to stand. The man's scrunched face suddenly lightened as he said this.

"Oh, well. As long as you're sorry, everything's fine." he said laughing as he patted Dario on the shoulder.

"Really? That's grea-- HURALLLAAGGGGHHH!" Dario tried to express before vomiting all over the man's chest.

"Well now you're going to have to die."

"I figured as much." Dario sighed cleaning the bile from his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.