"And you are Fereldan or Marcher, yes? You are- actually closer to home than I am." Zevran crackles a faint laugh, shaking out his cloak, cleaning his daggers and vanishing them with a flick of the wrist. "I am on an errand for the inquisition. More specifically an Errand for the Wardens. Apparently there are some supply caches that have not yet been found or something to that effect."