A Good Drink and Better Friend(open)

[Ricros Sapphiredge]

Ricros stared into his drink before finally taking a swig. He had lived in Kirkwall for what felt like an eternity, but the dwarven warrior still felt out of place. He knew that Kirkwall was no different than if he had gone to Denerim in Ferelden. It probably had something to do with the fact he spent most of his time in the Hanged Man. Usually, the dwarf didn't drink any alcohol when looking for work but there was extra coin and he figured he may as well enjoy himself a little.

Knowing full well that if he wasn't careful he'd drink all his coin away, Ricros glanced around the tavern to see if he could pick up some work. Most of the time, he was guarding caravans. When those jobs fell through, he would sell his skill to whoever was willing to pay him. Most of the time, he was asked to kill a bandit or even a few wild animals; nothing too strenuous. The only tasks he didn't accept were killing nobles. Since he was still new to the city, the guards wouldn't think twice about arresting and even killing him.

The surface dwarf had to be careful with whom he associated himself with. One wrong connection and his best option was prison. Worst case scenario, the Gallows would be used once more for what they were originally used for. The thought sent a shiver down the dwarf's spine, causing him to spit out some of his ale. Thankfully, the mug was still to his lips so his drink wasn't wasted.

"Sodding Kirkwall's nobles with their feuds. Why can't they solve their own problems?" He had been approached by one or two nobles wanting another noble killed, but Ricros had declined. Mostly, it came from his fear of having his life quickly taken from him by the city guards.

[Torn]

A slight hush fell over the din of the pub as a newcomer entered. It had been years since the Qunari had tried to take Kirkwall, but the wounds left behind had not been quick to heal. Most without having studied the Qun considered the Kossith to simply be either Tal-Vashoth or Qunari, but a few had started to grasp the difference. Most of the Hanged Man's patrons had only ever seen one Kossith enter the bar, though who ever he was, he had since moved on.

Torn's eyes glanced cautiously around the room. The place was packed, with many tables full and several people standing near the walls and fireplace. Tension seemed to have formed in the few moments that the Kossith had been there and many had started giving Torn dirty looks and whispering to one another. Despite the distinct feeling of hostility Torn did not leave, but instead approached the bar. A young woman stared anxiously at him as she continued to clean an already spotless cup.

"C--can I help you?"

While his voice was still that of the typical deepness all Kossith males had, with uncommon ease and fluidity, Torn spoke with quiet confidence to the girl. "One cup of mead and one of water." Nodding nervously the girl set about pouring the drinks. While Torn attempted a warm and comforting smile, the girl continued to shake slightly. After she set his drinks on the counter Torn said thank you and placed two silvers on the bar. Scanning the room once more Torn's eyes fell upon an empty seat at a small table off to the side. The table's only resident was a stocky dwarf that seemed to be mumbling something after the man talking to him walked away. Normally the thought of standing would have been preferable to intruding upon the dwarf's space, but Torn had grown tired, having just arrived from Ferelden, he was eager to rest. Sighing Torn made his way across the room to the table. Most of the people standing moved away from him, some even going as far as to leave the bar. Towering over the dwarf at almost six and a half feet the oxman once again flashed a friendly grin. "Mind if I join you stone child?"

[Ricros Sapphiredge]

Ricros looked up from his drink as he heard the bar fall into silence. Glancing around for the culprit of the caused silence, the dwarf noticed a Kossith enter the bar. Smiling at the thought of the large humanoid not causing silence, the dwarf returned to nursing his ale. His ears perked at the Kossith's order of a mead and a water. Ricros was glad he was born a dwarf. Otherwise, he'd have trouble holding his liquor.

Noticing the towering figure approaching his table, the warrior made sure he could get pull Veata out and be ready for a fight. Then again, it would be difficult for the oxman to fight the dwarf since his hands were full. Upon hearing the question, Ricros nodded his head towards an empty seat at the table.

"It would be nice to have some company that isn't asking me for a bleeding favor." The last few people that had tried to sit with him had opened with asking him to kill one person or another. For once, there was someone that was smart enough not to ask for a favor while the dwarf was trying to enjoy an ale.

The smile on the Kossith's face was somewhat off-putting, but that was probably due to the large size of the person that was offering the smile. Noticing a few people left the bar, Ricros couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. The distrust of Kossith was still present in Kirkwall, but the stocky dwarf was always one to get to know people.

[corineshalen]

"Heeeh, this place is amazing!", the pale-skinned boy proclaimed in a whispering cheer, having trouble sitting still on the chair. The cape he wore was a little too big for him, causing his hood to sit quite loosely on his head. A portion of his long white hair spilled out of the hood`s opening, running down the length of his lean-build body, ending at the waist. His body was still young, but it was easy to see that it was healthy and strong, yet it retained a lean build due to his height of 5`1 feet. "Are you sure its safe here, Mamae?", he suddenly said, his long fingers clutching onto the fabric of his pants.

"Don`t worry", a soothing female voice responded, placing her hand on top of the boy`s. "The few that do come here, gets so drunk that they tend to accuse dwarfs of being mages". With her own hood pulled fully up, Corine`s face was completely covered up, through the tone of her voice indicated that she was smirking. As usual she wore the drakeskin armor, keeping her shoulders lowered and footsteps clunky, to replicate the movements of an average human. "Besides, Hawke could often be found in this place"

"Eh, really?", the young mage said, jumping from his chair at the mention of his idol. "Heeh, this place gets better and bet- Huh?". Amon tilted his head in confusion, as people began to leave their tables. Growing nervous, he tugged onto Corine`s cape. "What`s going on Mamae? Is it-".

"No, its not them, don`t worry". For a moment she had thought it to be templars as well, but a quick glance towards the door, revealed it to be a very tall creature. She had only encountered few Kossith`s, but it was easy to identify him as one. Given Kirkwall`s encounter with the Qunari only a few years ago, it was no wonder that people would be willing to leave behind their half-emptied cups. Her blue eyes loosely followed his travel through the Tavren, and she could`t help but to smile as he seated himself next to a dwarf. It was quite the surreal scene, but it was comforting to see that, despite appearance, some still had the brain to let the past rest.

To her surprise, Amon had left her side, and was approaching the dwarf and Kossith. There was no sign of templars, and he wasen`t going that far away, so Corine decided to remain seated and enjoy some of the tavren`s ale.

"Heeh, you look so cool!", the boy blurted in his innocent voice, as he reached the table of the Kossith and the dwarf. He grabbed onto the edge of the table, tilting his head to the side, causing the hood to fall off. The rest of his white hair fell down to the waist, the softness of it making it look like a veil of silk. "And strong too! Have any of you fought bad guys? Maybe darkspawn?". His lips spread into a little smile, his white hair swaying across the nimble shoulders, as he awaited response.

[Azrael]

Sat near silently in the corner with his two guards the noble observed the crowd even as he considered his very presence in the city. Accompanying his eldest brother Alfred on a diplomatic mission wasn't his usual fair and it was clear that the man had enough guards without the third son of the Talin family tagging along. And so Azrael, Rufus and Ulric had ended up in the hanged man.
As silence fell across the room. Curious at the development he peered up from under his dark blue hood to see nothing less than a Kossith entering the tavern. A rare sight indeed. A smirk fell onto his lips at the barmaid's reaction to the 'oxman'. It must be difficult for the poor guy in this city. The smirk fell into a sneer however as several of the patrons left. Pathetic. Still, a kossith and a dwarf sitting together, the plot thickens. With a return to his usual humour he turned to the mohawked form of Ulric Dace on his left. "In one?" He grinned lifting the pint sat in front of him.
"Aye human. In one." The one eyed dwarf responded lifting his own tankard before both knocked their respective drinks straight back. Chuckling as he noticed that Ulric had beaten him once again he reached for his purse. "Damn. Looks like the next one's on me then." He grinned, turning to Rufus who was still sipping his whiskey. When his gaze fell back to the rest of the tavern however he suddenly paled. "It can't be..." He breathed, his eyes wide. Standing up slowly he began trying to make his way to the table where the dwarf and the Kossith were sat. That child... The same child that had dominated his dreams for the past three years... Was it really his son? His every joint felt stiff and distance between them seemed miles as he manouvered through the crowd. Swallowing hard as he reached the table he crouched down next to the boy and looked at his face for a moment. "Excuse me young ser, could you tell me your name?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

[Ricros Sapphiredge]

Ricros heard the voice of a young boy and the question of fighting darkspawn. Remembering the last time he had been in the Deep Roads, the memories of beating those Maker-forsaken creatures with Veata. Deciding it was better to let the Kossith answer the question, the dwarven warrior decided it would be better for him to sit out the questions and just enjoy his ale.

Apparently, the dwarf had a magnet that attracted anyone within the tavern. Soon, a man with pale blonde hair approached the slowly growing group. If this kept up, soon the whole bar would be asking to hear stories from the oxman. Chuckling at the thought, the dwarf finished what was left of his ale and leaned back in his chair. Turning to the child and the man, Ricros nodded at the two vacant chairs.

"You two might be more comfortable sitting." It would be better for everyone if the group was sitting rather than having a young boy and a man that looked a bit like the boy standing while the dwarf and Kossith were sitting. Plus, Ricros wanted to have an even equal opportunity at getting his weapon free as the man.

The dwarf didn't know what kind of person the man was, but it never hurt to be prepared. Not bothering to reach for his mace, the dwarf merely looked at the pair while waiting for the Kossith to answer the child's questions.

[Torn]

With a grateful nod Torn took his seat across from the dwarf. It was not the most comfortable seat Torn had ever sat on but it was most certainly not intended for anyone larger than the average human. While the wood creaked and shuttered in protest the bench did not break. Taking a sip of his mead he placed the cup of water down upon the table. It felt good to just sit down and have a drink. Indulging in such pleasures as alcohol was something the oxman felt was best done in moderation and on dry land. The amount of time Torn spent on ships over the past twelve years would be staggering to anyone outside of the sailing profession.

Sitting across from the dwarf, Torn couldn't help but stare at the man with intense curiosity. He had met few dwarves in his travels but he had to admit that the one across from him seemed different. He did not hold himself the way most did. In fact the quality seemed faintly familiar to Torn. His emotions remained collected while ready to strike, like a viper in Seheron. Indeed, in some strange way the dwarf was not unlike the Fog Warriors.

Just as he was about to ask the dwarf where he trained, Torn was interrupted by a flash of white as a rather pale hooded child ran up to them. The boy had a frail and fragile look about him, but not in a sickly or pitiful way. The boy's comment on his appearance made Torn chuckle. He was not used to others approaching him so eagerly, let alone with such energy. Grinning once more, Torn greeted the boy. "Shanedan little one. You are too kind." Giving the boy a small wave it was clear the oxman was not used to this sort of thing. Normally he was the one asking people questions, not the other way around. Looking over at the dwarf Torn soon realized that the only one who would be answering the boy's questions anytime soon was himself. Clearing his throat a little the kossith took another sip of mead and thought of how best to answer the questions. "I have fought many men of varying walks of life, but whether or not they were 'bad' I cannot truly say. It is not for me to judge who is right or wrong, good or evil. Things simply are what they were meant to be and Darkspawn are no exception. While I can happily say I have never faced one, out of every life I have held in my hands a Darkspawn would be welcome in its place...their purpose is simply to destroy and in turn be destroyed. But even a corrupt life with less than a sliver of humanity is not something one should take lightly..."

As he spoke Torn noticed a man who had been looking at them get up and start making his way over to their table. Something in Torn's mind felt as though there was something similar about the boy and the man, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The dwarf seemed somewhat amused by all of the sudden attention, but Torn was somewhat put off by it. Thankfully the man directed his question to the boy and him, which made Torn rather relieved. He did not know how to talk to children, he knew that, but at the very least if a child got an answer they didn't like there wasn't much they could do about it. A grown man with a few drinks in him at a tavern in Lowtown however... But this was not something the kossith felt he need be too worried about, at least for the moment. Somewhat to his dismay the dwarf invited the two to join them at the table. While this slightly flustered Torn, he did not show it. Instead he opted to downing his drinks in silence.

[corineshalen]

The boy`s pale hands were clutched into digits, his gaze turning oddly hostile. "I`m not little, you are just very, very big!", he almost yelled in protest, resuming his small jumps, this time in a small fit of disapproval. This aggressive behavior quickly calmed down through, as the ivory-skinned child listened to the Kossith`s answer. His sky-blue eyes were oddly enough very focused, not something you would expect from a child, who was dressed like most in Lowtown were. It hinted at a life spend on observing, a bright mind focused on learning, hidden behind a typical childish facade.

Amon`s jumping suddenly halted, as he tilted his head onto the side, standing perfectly still. The bright eyes looked into those of the taller Kossith, as if the youngster understood the higher meaning behind the given answer. This strange moment lasted only briefly through, as his lips broke into a big smile, a giggle leaving his mouth. "You sound a lot like Mamae!".

The little burst of happiness was broken, as a stranger suddenly approached the table. Thinking that he was a friend of the Kossith and Dwarf, Amon didn`t pay much attention to him. So as the man suddenly kneeled down and addressed him directly, the boy jumped a half foot backwards, spreading out his long fingers. Actual flames emerged from Amon`s palms, threatening to burn the stranger`s face if he got closer.

"Ah..no, no no". Remembering the rules of his mother, Amon quickly clenched his hands together, killing the flames. Grabbed slightly by panic, he fled behind the much taller Kossith, trying to fasten his hood over the long hair. "..I..I`m not allow to say that to strangers..", he mumbled weakly in response, using the Kossith as a means to separate himself from the stranger.

The stranger did look familiar to the young mage, but he could´t tell from where.

[Azrael]

Though he inwardly cursed as he saw the child jump Azrael could barely suppress a smile as he saw flames leap between his hands. He was now sure that the child was Amon. His face fell however as the boy fled behind the kossith after telling him that he couldn't tell his name to strangers. Reaching out towards him with one hand he opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted before the worda had even formed. "Hey! Leave that kid alone!" Turning to respond to the man behind him he felt a fist crack across his jaw, pitching him over a table. Slowly the noble clambered back to his feet only to see Ulric grabbing the man by the throat. "Stand down Ulric." He stated calmly, ignoring the slight trickle of blood falling from the corner of his mouth in spite of the dagger stare he gave his assailant. The dwarf nodded to him and simply threw Azrael's attacker to the ground. "If you so much as look at the captain again..." He growled, his good eye full of menace as he stalked towards the bar and out of the corner of his eye Azrael could see Rufus relaxing his grip on the hilt of his sword. It was only then that the noble noticed that his hood had fallen away whilst he was in flight, revealing his face and the distinctive crimson tattoo beneath his right eye for the first time since he entered the tavern. Looking at the dwarf at the table he had been stood at a moment before he gave a weak smile.
"I'll take that chair now..." He muttered, gingerly making his way back over to them and grabbing a chair before slumping in to it. Slowly he removed his sword belt and placed it on the table in front of him, deliberately ensuring that the crests on the scabbards faced towards the Kossith. Tilting his head he looked at the big man. "So, you've seen your fair share of combat then? Interesting. Brought up outside the qun as well I take it judging from your mannerisms, which makes your use of their language very interesting indeed." He smiled, trying to cool the situation back down. He then turned his attention to the dwarf, looking him up and down. "And I would judge that you are no stranger to combat either, am I right? Huh, three veterans... How quaint." Slowly he leaned back in the chair. "Me? Fereldan noble, fought in the blight... That was less than fun." As he spoke the memories came back, worst of all was Loghain's betrayl. His hero a traitor. Shaking his head he leaned back forwards and put his arms on the table. "Name's Azrael by the way." Silently he prayed that Amon remembered his name if nothing else.

[Ricros Sapphiredge]

Ricros nearly spilled his drink as he saw flames shoot from the boys hands. Magic wasn't a common sight in Orzammar, and that made Ricros a little more wary of it. When the child used the kossith as a way to keep something between the man and himself, the warrior dwarf calmly kept one hand on the hilt of his mace. When the man was punched, Ricros almost jumped into the fray. Luckily, someone else had intervened.

When the man decided to sit down and display his sword, the stocky dwarf couldn't help but admire it's quality. When he had grown up, his father had shown him how the smith caste made the weapons and how every blade, mace, and other piece of equipment was made to fit the user. Smiling at the memory, Ricros barely heard the nobleman state that the three of them were veterans of combat. The mention of the Blight made Ricros laugh a bit. The human had fought the darkspawn for a small time compared to how long the dwarves in general had been fighting them. Even the former member of the warrior caste fought the darkspawn for a few years prior to the whole Blight starting.

"I guess you could say you and I have something in common then. Darkspawn were fought down in the Deep Roads so everyone up here didn't deal with them too much." The dwarf calmly drank his ale and glanced at the child. It seemed that the boy had some magic in him. To Ricros, that was just another thing that would cause him more trouble with the guard. Considering mages were under a bit more scrutiny in Kirkwall, having a mage child along with a kossith wasn't going to make the dwarf's life any easier.

Shrugging to himself, Ricros continued listening to what the others had to say. When the human noble introduced himself, the stocky dwarf nodded and offered a smile. "I'm Ricros Sapphiredge, former warrior caste in Orzammar."

Even though it sounded a bit pompous, the dwarf meant nothing by his mention of his former caste. With any luck, the human would have some use for him. Or maybe the boy could do with some help. Of course, the favor for the boy would have to be free. Charging a child was something the seasoned warrior was not comfortable doing.

[Alex]

Although left unnoticed by others, there had indeed been one visitor during the hullaballoo that had erupted within the old-fashioned inn. As such, he had bore witness to the rather incredible events inside. It had all started with the large Qunari scaring off the regulars. The man was so big - and so fearsome - that no other visitor had dared come close upon their sullen exits... except for a few. Not to mention that the sight of a Qunari would revive rather unpleasant memories in the minds of the locals. It even went so far that Alex had to make way for the surge of people leaving the tavern. But as the dust settled, Alex moved to one of the suddenly emptied tables.

The former visitors had left two half-empty mugs on the table, and now Alex graciously emptied their contents into an empty one. Just as he was about to take a draught, he saw something from the corner of his eye that greatly bewildered him. Much to his disappointment, he could not avoid spilling his ale. Most of it went on the table, but a fair amount managed to make its way to his coat and sleeves: just enough to make him feel like a wet dog. He cursed out loud and stood up. A bar-maid soon turned up, but Alex waved her away. In truth, he was quite unsure of what to do: to leave was not an option in his current attire, and to stay would mean booking a room. He chose the middle road.

Taking off his long, gray coat, he - half in purpose - revealed a whole arsenal of weaponry that had been hidden beneath, exquisitely attached to the quilted leather. Clearly, in plain sight, he had three throwing knives beneath his belt, each sheathed in its own customary sheath, and from his waist hung a long sword. It had a coarse sheath, as though the blade itself was just like any other piece of scrap metal you had out there, but its pommel was so intricate in detail that it could've belonged to a King. Hanging from his quilted leather coat there were also other things, things that he needed now and then in taverns, temporary homes or out camping. A set of dice hung from his chest, attached to the leather coat by a snippet of rope like dogtags, and from his waist there hung a heavy leather purse. It was filled with coin, tools for firemaking minus the wood, small pouches of pipeweed and a bowstring. After losing his old bow in an ambush near Denerim, he had been planning to craft a new one, more powerful and accurate than its successor, but never finding time or motivation to do so. Thoughts of ordering a new one from a professional bowyer had passed by his mind, or perhaps buying his arrows now that he had the money, but reverting back from his old ways had proven to be harder than expected. This had resulted in total inaction regarding the matter: he had not bought nor crafted a bow or any arrows. He always thought he'd get back at it when he needed them. Well, that was a good way to deal with it. Why not?

In any case, he now concentrated on the more recent matter. The boy had nearly burned the blonde fellow's face out, and he himself was not too fond of magic himself. It was not too long ago that he had lost his friends to a failed experiment of a mage, nor too long ago since he had nearly lost her soulmate to a blood mage. It was a great fortune that none of the previous categories were with him today, but he still had to be wary. Not because of the child, no... but if he was a mage, then the chances of others also being mages were considerably high. And then, more out of impulse than out of pity, he walked over to the blonde-haired man. He had overheard him calling himself Azrael, a Fereldan noble. Well, be that as it may, but Alex would ask him his question anyway.

"Excuse me, but are you all right? You almost got your face burned out there," said Alex, smirking. "We should introduce ourselves, perhaps, before the window of opportunity is closed." He bowed his head slightly. His smirk widened a tad. "My name is Alex."

[Ricros Sapphiredge]

Ricros glanced at the person just walked up to the table that the four were now sitting at. Apparently, this group was going to start getting bigger thanks to the man and the boy that knew magic. Either way, it was good to have people so the dwarf could have some contacts if he ever needed a job. For now, though, it was nice to have some company that wouldn't ask him to kill someone at some time.

"I'm sure he's fine considering he didn't run outside and dunk his head in the water," Ricros chuckled, taking a swig of his ale. "I'm Ricros Sapphiredge, by the way."

This one had civility and a lack for wanting some dead within five minutes of meeting the group. Then again, not many people would advertise wanting someone dead. Those that would wish someone dead would merely need to leave a letter for him to read when he was free. Now was a time for relaxation and drinking.

[corineshalen]

"Fire, a kossith, ale that tastes of little and ferelden nobility...Its funny how I find myself in the setup for the greatest joke of the year. Light enough so the kids would get it, but with a mature undertone, so the adults can listen to it without getting tired". Having spotted her son`s discomfort from a long distance, and his use of magic, the rather young mother had approached the table, hood still pulled over her head, hiding her smirking face in its shadows. And while her elven features were hidden, her short height of 5`3 was there to take notice of, through the boots added another two inches.

Keeping her footsteps heavy and shoulders lowered, the disguised elf invited herself to the table, taking seat next to the dwarf, finding him the most uninviting. That, and he was the one who had to worry the least about Amon`s magic, since dwarf`s had their fancy immunity to it. You had to wonder why the templars haden`t considered putting Dwarfs among their ranks, it wasen`t like the surface lacked them. Not that she was gonna mention this idea...the last they needed were more templars, and maker dwarfs were harder to kill than a human...short, but strong.

"I`m sorry, Mamae", he spoke, once again using the elven word for mom. With his head lowered, the young mage crawled into his mother`s lap. With less than a feet between mother and child, it did look a bit awkward; Amon hooked his arms around Corine`s neck, nuzzling his cheek against the smooth leather of her study armor. Using his white hair, the boy hid his face from view, dangling his long legs relaxed, finding comfort with his mother close.

"You should apologize to the man instead..don`t cry now...there there". Speaking in a soothing voice, she ran a gloved hand down Amon`s back, glancing at the small crowd which had gathered at the table...all they needed now was a templar, and the package would be complete. "I always miss the introduction rounds..ah well, just consider me a mystery then!". waving her hand in a greeting gesture, she leaned back in the chair, tugging Amon`s limp frame against her own.

"I hear tales of darkspawn and fights fought long ago...A conversation best held in the right company, no?"

[Azrael]

Azrael gave a solemn nod at the dwarf's words about the darkspawn. "Indeed and may we all be grateful for the sacrifices your people make. Barkeep! Three pints!" He cried approvingly, a number of copper coins clattering onto the table. Then he noticed a man with a grey coat and more than a.few weapons striding over. Under the table the noble's knife slipped loose in the hidden sheath, ready for the worst. The man's introduction and the dwarf's answer gave him pause for a moment. "Damn." He whispered quietly to himself. He had been so happy at finding another clue that the child was indeed Amon that he hadn't even realised the danger he had been in. His own son could have almost killed him! "Huh. I'm fine thanks, he stopped a little short. Nothing more than a warning really." He smiled. "It's nice to meet you Alex, especially with that mobile armoury you have there," he gave a light chuckle before turning once more "Make it four!" He cried, another small pile of coppers joining the larger one. "And what, if I may be so bold, is it that you do?" He asked almost casually, trying to hide some of his interest in the man, definitely one to keep in mind. Out of the corner of his eye he then caught sight of another figure approaching. "Actually, make it-" And then she spoke. The hairs on the back of the human's neck stood on end as three years worth of dreams and nightmares filled his mind for a moment. "Five..." The word escaped his mouth at last after a moment, barely above a whisper as he sat there, mouth slightly open for a moment. Then he caught himself. "Well, if this is a joke, I dread to consider the punch line." He smiled, the upbeat tone of his voice belieing the way his face had suddenly blanched. He warmed however as the boy huddled up to the woman. "No apology needed, in fact I should be apologising for startling him and... revealing his gift." Acknowledging Corine's- what he thought was Corine he corrected himself- decision to keep her identity hidden he went along with her question. "What would you like to hear? The tale of a young noble who fought his way clear of Ostagar and went on to gain honours at denerim? No. I think perhaps my first dragon would be more interesting. Or perhaps a story of assassins? If you really want I can go for something more... Exotic." His smile was oddly confident compared to the rapid drumbeat of his heart. Slowly he turned to the child. "Please, pardon my earlier conduct young ser. I was simply wondering if you recognised this emblem?" With great care he placed a dagger on the table in front of the pair, the wolf's head emblem of the Talin clan on the sheath facing them. "Still," he grinned, perhaps you have some interesting tales to spin Alex?" It was only when the freshly delivered pint of ale met his lips that he allowed his guard to slip for a moment, the smile fading as he quietly sighed into the tankard, his mind going at full pelt as he considered the current situation.

[Alex]

"It goes without saying that nobody will speak of this event, yes? I am not overly fond of magic myself, but everyone ought to give a small kid a chance," said Alex, gravely.

"But as for stories, I do have a great many indeed, for I am a mercenary. I was born here in the Free Marches, in the small fishing village of Pearlmouth, but later moved on to Ferelden. Most of my tales are of Ferelden, which I think Azrael could find rather interesting. How many do we have here who have at least visited Ferelden?" Alex continued, laughing at his own little jest.

"In any case, what would you like to hear? My selection is huge, much greater than this 'mobile armoury' I carry with me, if you will. I can tell you how I acquired this sword, for example." He drew the 42 inches of cold steel from its scabbard, revealing the beautiful ornament blade for the first time. He sat down on a free bench and laid it down on his lap.

"This," he said, hiding a glimmer of glee in the corner of his eye, "is an enchanted sword. I acquired it from a late Tevinterian magister, the vilest sort, if you catch my meaning." He put emphasis on his last sentence, using his trademark Gleeman's voice. Mysterious, ominous and heavy, it felt almost like a heavy, moist wind from the highlands, carrying the voices of the dead in its wake.