The road to Markham isn't often besieged by highwaymen, but the retinue en route to the city to report the closure of the Fade rift have armed escorts anyway. Mages, Inquisition soldiers, scouts--and some taciturn Grey Warden fellow who has yet to introduce himself, but who joined in the fray nonetheless and cut down a fair number of demons. He now travels a bit apart from the rest of the group, disinclined to make small talk, though not discourteous when approached.
That evening as the group beds down for the night, he sits on his canvas bedroll, consulting a map laid out before him while listening to the rest of the party talk amongst themselves. While not especially inclined to join in, neither does he seem bothered by the chatter.
II. KIRKWALL
Wherever the Wardens now make their camp in Kirkwall is where Loghain Mac Tir goes.
He leads his weary horse, sweat at its flanks, to the stables where she can be seen to by the grooms and stablehands of the Inquisition. While they give the mare water and hay and help him remove her tac, one of the maids (who looks young enough to be his daughter's child, and thus has no reason to suspect who he is) gives him helpful instructions on where to find the rest of the Wardens. He thanks her, leaves her to go on about her work, and then takes up his pack.
It's easy enough to recognize them when he tracks them down; Wardens are a peculiar lot, standing out even without their iconic silverite armour. He hesitates on the fringes of their camp, delving deep into some untapped reservoir in search of courage.
Then he steps forward. To whomever he happens to approach first, he says, "I've been led to understand that this is the Warden encampment in Kirkwall." He shifts the weight of his pack on his shoulders. "I've arrived to make my report to the Warden Commander."
here's this asshole (Loghain Mac Tir)
The road to Markham isn't often besieged by highwaymen, but the retinue en route to the city to report the closure of the Fade rift have armed escorts anyway. Mages, Inquisition soldiers, scouts--and some taciturn Grey Warden fellow who has yet to introduce himself, but who joined in the fray nonetheless and cut down a fair number of demons. He now travels a bit apart from the rest of the group, disinclined to make small talk, though not discourteous when approached.
That evening as the group beds down for the night, he sits on his canvas bedroll, consulting a map laid out before him while listening to the rest of the party talk amongst themselves. While not especially inclined to join in, neither does he seem bothered by the chatter.
II. KIRKWALL
Wherever the Wardens now make their camp in Kirkwall is where Loghain Mac Tir goes.
He leads his weary horse, sweat at its flanks, to the stables where she can be seen to by the grooms and stablehands of the Inquisition. While they give the mare water and hay and help him remove her tac, one of the maids (who looks young enough to be his daughter's child, and thus has no reason to suspect who he is) gives him helpful instructions on where to find the rest of the Wardens. He thanks her, leaves her to go on about her work, and then takes up his pack.
It's easy enough to recognize them when he tracks them down; Wardens are a peculiar lot, standing out even without their iconic silverite armour. He hesitates on the fringes of their camp, delving deep into some untapped reservoir in search of courage.
Then he steps forward. To whomever he happens to approach first, he says, "I've been led to understand that this is the Warden encampment in Kirkwall." He shifts the weight of his pack on his shoulders. "I've arrived to make my report to the Warden Commander."