Thread: The Cure (Sano and Marie)

Nathaniel Howe supported the ludicrous endeavor of Warden Commander Cousland out of sheer faith in her abilities to mutate impossible odds into realities. Corypheus' bore an innate power to imitate the calling, bringing strife and complete discord among the Grey Wardens hierarchy. Submerged in the shadows whenever presented through openings, Nathaniel sustained silence amidst lingering in the homes of the Darkspawn. A most virulent task, retracting closer to the campground where everyone would hopefully be most prudent despite opinions on his commander's quirky selection. Brandishing his ancestral longbow, an austere gaze kept until reaching into the encampment. Lady Cousland, the perimeter is secured ! , he spoke courteous despite the closeness shared between them during the years. Olaf never wavered far without an animal companion, this one manifesting as a wolf of considerable intelligence. Stereotypical, the Avvar outdoors man accessorized with warpaint prevalent in the tribes he belonged to where relationships with Feraldens hovered to hostile levels by warfare and discrimination. Beholden to the semblance of his people, distinguishing features included wavy blonde hair descending passed his shoulders, a thinned physique tightly cored like a muscular feline , and majestic light blue hues. Darkspawns and its averse source of power known as the blight were discernible visually, somewhat by movement, and definitely by scent. Primitive means of martial combat he excelled it, weighed down by numerous throwing axes on his person and only barely armored by the customs of the wardens. The blighted ones do not come, but we cannot stay here too long. Ogre was here, wes caught its smell! , he announced in a neutral tone to the group Batching it an astronomical distance from the privy of the asylum from inevitable demise judging by how the taint from these burdensome walking plagues coursed in his veins. Still it was preferable to death, shame those whom he could sample from were formidable dishes of flesh. Cassius held a wiry exterior, pale like a corpse with amber orbs closer to red as he peered at the formations of the rocks. Toting a darkened gorge sloshing with the plasma of fallen victims, this blood magi borne a horrid reputation prior to this enslavement for overindulging in women and candidly testing his talents with the blood. Commander Cousland stopped advances from the pretty Dalish encircling near that horned beast, trailing the boundary with a combination of his blighted blood with the collection of Darkspawn blood. Crooked teeth drew a sinister grimace, enacting a specialized spell that gave off the scents of his their kin, hence fooling them slightly as a decent ward. Ogre? Barbarian you might wish to abrogate that declaration. We already have him right here., baleful in tone and purpose was Pierre for the contempt under these circumstances. Barring the company of the Warden Commander and the disgraced 2nd in command, the Chevalier perceived this mission as a ruse, a juvenile endeavor for further glory to supplement more prestige. Pierre de Montfort arrogated seniority in his mind, although earnestly despite his years within service probably ranked lower than her pet knife-ear Shaethari. Behind the elegant armored mask was a shorter stature man of Orlesian blood, vibrant with hints of aging through his graying slicked back brown hair, atheletic form from a decade in the ranks of the Chevaliers and when bared a dazzling smile. A meager glance at the beast he mentioned, he sneered in disgust knowing it wouldn't dare become confrontational unless physically provoked. Commander, how far along are we on this wild chase ? The tall, imposing beast of a Tal-Vashoth procrastinate of the significance of this ordeal knowing well the peril they would be confined towards facing in opposition. Paranoia set in, already hampered to the outcries of certain wardens in addition to the unrelenting dangers of the dark spawns. Enticement for combat broke him from his timid nature, a notable attribute only Shaw whom has gotten close to knows partially of the treatment he faced under the Qun. Visually and statistically, Sojan was deemed an abnormally large, extremely muscular Qunari that a nickname christened in the days as a mercenary and the ignorant as Ogre. A mountainous warrior, his horns protruded out, obsidian in shade closer to the darker grey hue almosy symbolic of his passage into the wardens. A maroon Vitaar smeared onto his brawny hide, recognized that crafting armor was an exhausting attempt on resources and time. Only the Griffin embroidered bracers of metal were afforded to him as a piece of the uniform and protection. Animalistic red hues stared at the pompous Orlesian momentarily, very long, thick, swept-back white hair that resembles a mane in its unkempt fashion akin to the insults he fought back against by bestowing no reaction thus far. Building camp nearly improbable, pulling out a large beaten pavilion he utilized for an improvised bedroll for his immeasurable stature. Positioned in the camp near the Dalish, he maintained silence watching her, slowly leaning to the stone wall. Audibly slow with a strong, granite like voice he addressed her though it was simply from time for both of them mutually becoming more sociable. .....Thoughts......on...what...this...cure..is?