Thread: dragon age ⋮⋮ ◜ohm and rivine◞

Cathan knelt down beside a track, frowning a bit. The footprint in question wasn't much, just an imprint in some dust and dirt really. The Dark Roads did not provide the best terrain for tracking, being that they were just passages carved in the stone in ancient times. But Cathan could tell something for were about whoever had made the track they were not Darkspawn. Whoever had made the track had been wearing a leather soled boot. That rather quickly ruled out the owner of said boot being a Darkspawn. The Deep Roads and other environs that the Darkspawn frequented were not exactly teeming with materials that could be made into leather. So that left one logical answer whoever had made the print had not been a Darkspawn. The captain sighed as he slowly rose to his feet, murmuring softly to himself, It would seem that we might have company. What was that sir? a younger man in his early twenties asked Cathan. The mercenary turned a bit to his left, fixing the youngster with his gaze and explaining softly, The boot that the person was wearing is made of leather. Therefore we have something, or rather someone, other then Darkspawn down here. The youngster blinked a bit, clearly not understanding all the implications, then said simply, Oh. Cathan rolled his eyes a bit and scowled as he averted his gaze from the lad, eyes looking off down the hall that the tracks led. The youngster, Ronan, was good in a fight, but there were rocks smarter then he was. Refocusing his thoughts on the task at hand, Cathan began to move slowly down the hallway. His steps were silent, his soft soled boots not betraying him. He'd have to remember to thank the Crow he had took them off of when they met in the afterlife, for the boots were quite nice made of fine Antivan leather which had been dyed a rusty colored red, or at least Cathan told himself they had been dyed. As he continued down the hall he kept his right hand at his side, his fingers gripping the halla horn handle of his favored weapon, a throwing axe that he had found in an elvhen ruin about a dozen years before. The weapon had been beautifully decorated, it's ironbark head blending into the handle with veins of the dark wood running down and into half of the shaft as well. The carvings on the weapon seemed to be of trees, flowers and the like on the piece of halla horn, but where there was ironbark the carvings changed to depictions of flame and magic. The weapon was Cathan's dearest possession and, in his mind, one of his most able allies, as odd as that might have sounded to others. Soon enough, as the captain rounded some rubble, he was surprised to find what looked like remnants of a fire. He looked around once more, but there really wasn't anywhere for someone to be hiding in wait. Slowly he moved over to the remnants of the fire, kneeling by it and then holding his hand out over it. Still warm, he murmured to himself. He stood then and motioned back to his compatriots, the other three me who were joining him in the reconnaissance, beckoning for them to come and join him. They arrived in moments and Ronan opened his mouth to speak, but one of the other mercenaries, a man of short stature with a weather-worn face and hair as black as a raven's wing, slapped the young man's chest and grumbled, Let the captain speak. Ronan blushed in response to the rebuke and Cathan could not help but smile. Gurne had known Ronan since he was a boy and had spoiled him up until the lad had joined the company, but not he got the same surely treatment from the old mercenary as all the others did. Cathan was silent for a moment after the rebuke, then said softly, It seems that another expedition or, at least, other surfacers have come down here. I am rather sure that they are not dwarven merchants, otherwise there would likely have been far more tracks for their porters. So that means we must continue following them and find out if they are a threat to the expedition. Questions? None f the three men said a word, but the one who had yet to speak moved off, his hood still up and covering his head and hanging over his face despite the heat and limited light in this section of the Deeproads. Deval rarely let people see his face in the light though, for much of his face was scarred by burns and acid, the results of a fight with a blood mage years before. Cathan could probably out track Deval, but the scarred man was by far the quietest and stealthiest of them all. Cathan let Deval get a good head start, then set off after him. They'd find whoever was down there, whether they were dead or alive.