Morning exercises

Jezarine caught Robert's attention. He didn't realize he zoned out. He was surprised to see there was a leave with some milk in his hand. He suddenly recalled that Jezarine gave him that to use on his burnt tongue. "Sorry about that, I kinda zoned out."

He applied the solution to his tongue. It didn't really taste that good, but it did help. Jezarine really knows what she's doing. He looked and noticed Drake was down here now. Looks like he got himself in trouble or something. He did recall Jezarine screamed. Perhaps Drake snuck up on someone and scared Jezarine instead.

Robert took a sip of his tea, which had cooled enough to not burn him like before. Drake still seemed very familiar. Not someone he would have spent much time with, but he did look like someone he had seen in Redcliffe in his youth. "Hey, Drake. If you don't mind me asking, did you live in Redcliffe when you were younger?"

"I am truly sorry, Jezarine." He apologized as he held Calliara to him, his chin on her shoulder as he rested her back to his chest.

When Jez smiled back at him he knew he was forgiven even before she spoke, "I will remember. Healing takes time, as you know." He smiled back at her.

The fighter's eyes lifted as Robert spoke to him and he seemed to be considering the words with an effort, "I was apprenticed to relatives in Redcliffe for quite a few years of my youth. My parents sent me there when I was nine and I left when I was thirteen, sent to be a Templar, but my sister Deidrewas there as well and she remained to become a priestess."

Drake took note of the young man then smirked, "Ah. I did teach hunting and swordsmanship to younger students under the tutelage of Pendra, the Dwarven fighter. She was quite the smart mouth. Weren't you the one who mouthed back to her when you were about ... four or five? I remember ... yes a Schwarzer boy who wanted to learn archery at about four and fought to get into it."

Drake seemed to have a far better memory by comparison. Some of those things he can remember. Pendra and Deidre were familiar names and people. He could recall that he was actually formally taught archery, compared to his self taught sword skills that would get refined in later years. But mouthing off to Pendra? Fighting to get into archery lessons? That he can't remember, but do sound like things he might do.

But it did confirm his suspicions. It would explain how he recognized him. He can't believe he recognized him after so long. "I can't say I remember that, exactly...I was very young at the time, but it does sound like me. . . . .You were trained as a templar?"

''A sodding good-looking Templar that would be'' Bowen laughed, carrying Caterina and sat down with them, placing the Antivan girl on his lap. The Nevarran looked too happy for his own reputation, but he didn't care. Life was starting to be good again. ''Does anybody have something to drink that it's not tea? I need something stronger...''

He smiled wide watching the Wolf and Drake soooo close. It felt nice that someone would watch over her instead of him for once. He kissed softly Caterina's hair, holding her tightly, and smiled at Calli. ''How are you feeling? Does it hurt?''

Calliara smiled weakly at him and shrugged lightly, which meant a big, enormous 'Yes' in Bowen's books and experience. That was the main reason for them sparring that early in the morning. Not only both of them had problems to sleep, but early morning and late night was the worst hours during the day for both of them while staying there in the quarters. Too many memories, too many well known rooms that they stepped into, hoping for seeing someone known that they already knew were dead. But they still tried to pretend.

''I think we should do something. While our poor Commander has to deal with politics and that sodding recruit that happens to be King, Maker watch upon this country, we don't really have much to do... What about a party?'' He smiled wide. Well, that was an awesome idea.

The Shadow had been stalking his keeper, Sophia's steps since their arrival in Denerim. He had been the Warden-Commander's prisoner for several days now but his status as a diplomat at least kept him comfortable. Still, he kept his distance from the group members who would have killed him on sight such as the one called Griffinhart, or Sinjan or Garoll. It was not easy to hide one's self in the city so The Shadow instead took to wearing a mask to conceal his face, one he took from a mask shop. The mask itself was featureless, leaving only eye holes but there was gold philegry just below the eyes to make it look a little more elaborate. He also kept his hood up at all times, the deep cowl mostly hiding a single bloodshot golden eye but the other still exposed beneath it.

He watched Sophia converse with the human Templar, as well as offer to... fight him? No, this was not quite combat. Training? He supposed that was the proper term. He elected to sit on a bench near the ones called Calliara and Bowen. He looked over at the white haired Warden and saw the darkness in her. The taint. She was changing into one of his kind ever so slowly. "You be taken the darkness. Why it be so slow?" He wondered aloud. "Be not angry at me, I be just curious."

Calliara watched the Shadow with the corner of her eye. She still felt strange having that creature close to her, a constant reminder of what she would become maybe sooner than other Wardens, what she may had became had not Duncan offered her to join the Order. And then it talked

"You be taken the darkness. Why it be so slow? Be not angry at me, I be just curious."

Well, of course it felt the taint in her like she could feel the same in darkspawn, even in that creature in spite of not being able to detect it like the other foes. The Dalish tried to not show any emotion, but without even knowing it she grasped Drake's arm harder.

''Because the taint was... 'put on hold' when I became a Grey Warden. Why do you ask?''

Beneath the white mask, the keen golden eyes regarded the White Haired Wolf. "Curiosity. It be one of this one's characteristics. You be unique among your kind as the Father be unique among mine. The darkness is not bad once you be freed from the song." He said, smiling behind the mask though no one would have been able to see the toothy grin. It was not a smile of malice, but of being pleased at something, his own sense of freedom after being released of the Old Gods' influence. "The Father be glad to take you in and find a means to cure you." He said, recalling when he reported what he had over heard of her to the Father. He seemed very keen on helping her after that, but not as much as his need to free his fellow Darkspawn.

"I can't say I remember that, exactly...I was very young at the time, but it does sound like me. . . . .You were trained as a templar?"

Drake nodded, "You were very young when that all happened so I would be surprised if you remembered much of that. But, I tend to remember a lot." He moved Calli's hair back and kissed her neck, "I did train as a templar and they even allowed me to work my trade at the forge. Gregoire had one of my swords for many years. Nygozy tells me he still carries her."

It had been a proud moment when the man had requested that he create a sword for him and it was a memory that Drake did cherish, even though he refused to go back to the tower.

The Shadow caught his attention as the being spoke and he held Calli tighter because of it, "The Father be glad to take you in and find a means to cure you."

His eyes narrowed and he sneered, "Jezarine is working on that possibility, thank you." He said to the Darkspawn in a harsh tone. Before he said any more Bowen spoke up and he turned his head.

''I think we should do something. While our poor Commander has to deal with politics and that sodding recruit that happens to be King, Maker watch upon this country, we don't really have much to do... What about a party?'' Calliara's large friend asked in such a way even Drake could not deny.

"We were supposed to have a party last night but our little healer escaped that. I believe we should. Today! There is a royal ballroom I believe we can ... use." He grinned, "And our Jezarine shall have a wonderful welcoming back."

Dark eyes moved from person to person but Jezarine kept her attention very much upon Ianto. He moved so strongly with ... oh quit that girl! You're acting like a blushing youth. Oh my I am blushing again.

The healer sighed in hopes that no one had seen her gawking at the former templar. So many people had told her that they were dangerous folk to mages but she did not see the man as such. He was so sweet and caring and they could ramble together without either one of them feeling silly because they both did it and found it fun.

"The Father be glad to take you in and find a means to cure you."

"What's that?" Jezarine shook her head to jog out her reverie. She knew that Robert and Drake had been talking then the strange man with the mask said something strange about a cure. She had no idea who this was but he was with them so he must be ok, "Someone has ideas on how to cure the taint? Oh. Maybe we can compare notes and come up with something that will work. I have some ideas and have come up with some progress. Not much but still it is progress."

And just like that, her attention was split. The green-cloaked figure of the Shadow, Sophia's charge, had emerged to sit beside the happy gathering of lovers beside the practice courts. While she was all too happy for the Shadow to interact with her companions (conversation led to trust, trust led to friendship,) it was all too easy to sense the sudden tension in Calliara's demeanour. What had he asked her? More importantly, what would he ask of her? Sophia had never seen the White Wolf lose her temper, but stories tended to circulate... perhaps it would be prudent to keep half an eye on the conversation.
But only half an eye. Half an eye to watch green-cloak and white wolf, a song that could end in discord, but could just as easily be harmless, innocent. The other half would try to watch the other happy couple snuggled under the sun, a sight which clashed with the golden morning, twisting her stomach, fracturing her smile-
Sophia wrenched her stare away, her stomach knotting around her spine. Suddenly the morning didn't seem quite so warm.

But Ianto! Blessed, wonderful Ianto. Unsheathing his swords, the sunlight glimmering in halos off the twin blades: a reflection of Andraste's majesty returned to Thedas. The sight took the storyteller's breath away, calming the claws twisting in her belly. For a moment, she could believe the stories told about the Templars, about their heroics instead of their horrors. A holy knight, protecting the one he loved the most... it was all Sophia could do not to hurl herself across the arena and hug him.

Because of how he looks? Or because he distracted you from how you felt?

"If you had attacked one of my friends, I would have no choice but to kill you." Sophia beamed. Smile, smile, keep smiling. "So we'll see how well you dance, and take it from there. Does that sound suitable?"

I wasn't feeling anything. This happiness, warmth upon warmth... to be surrounded by love, friendship, both hidden, revealed and on the cusp of awakening... this is paradise. And I would want it no other way.

One foot, poised. All weight on resting on the back foot. One arm, raised above your head, the other at your hip. Let him make the first move, find his song. Dance, don't fight. Be graceful. Be as beautiful as this moment demands.

Liar. Liar, liar, liar, liar.

Without knowing it, Sophia found herself sharing Ianto's desire. Suddenly the morning meant nothing. She needed to fight. She needed to forget. The twisting, the clawing, up and down her spine, freezing her from the inside out...

Jealous. I'm jealous. And the thought of that frightens me.

He kept silent, still, but answered the dancer with a nod. Yes, that was "suitable." He supposed that she was right - he'd have been all too happy to kill the people who'd tried to take Jez - so maybe it hadn't been the perfect analogy, but it had served its purpose. Whether she went easy on him or not, whether she used her magic or not, this would be a good fight.

And then he didn't want to think anymore, and Sophia was ready, and he lunged, quick as anything. Ianto knew he wasn't the most glamorous fighter around, but he also knew that he was worth something when it came to swordplay, and even in "just a spar," it showed. Sophia might have been a dancer, elegant and swift and crafty, but Ianto hadn't been trained to fight people like her for nothing, magic or not.

His swords flashed, reflecting the morning sun in a less innocent light, and the first - leading with his left, which was still sore from yesterday - came down towards her side, the second following the arc of its twin. He had no idea what the deadly silent Sophia would do, but he hadn't reached for his Templar powers yet . . . . No, not yet. He would watch, and see what she would do first - but he would watch the dangerous glint in her eye more.

Caterina laughed, and playfully swatted at Bowen's shoulder as she settled down in his lap. The morning was neither too cool nor too warm - it was almost sickeningly perfect, really. Maybe she should have been happy for that, since she had not been able to escape the cold, damn weather of Ferelden since coming here, but now that the weather was so nice, she found herself unused to it.

Ah well, she thought with a shrug, all the better. It put the others in a fine mood, and that made her happy. As Drake and Robert spoke of older times, and Bowen and Calliara shared a meaningful look (and as she tried to ignore the raspy-voiced Darkspawn, because ignoring him was better than feeling ill at ease around him), Caterina moved gracefully from her Nevarran seat-cushion to fold her legs beneath her at Jez's side. She looked at the dark elf with a conspiratorial smile, and bent her head to whisper in the elf's pointed ear.

"Ianto has not left your side since last morning, dear Jezarine." There was never a bad time for gossip. "Is there something I should know about you two, then?" She was only half teasing, really - only a blind man could have missed the way they looked at each other, though they seemed almost ignorant of it themselves. No matter. Caterina could work with that.

Her eyes turned towards the fight, where her narradora and the Templar were facing off. It was almost a beautiful sight, she thought with a sudden poetic inspiration : the dancer with her laced-up arms, poised gently and deadly in front of the Knight-Templar, standing gallant with his swords drawn. Oh, but she sounded like her narradora, and she smiled, turning her grin back to Jezarine. She considered asking the healer if she thought whether or not Ianto fought with her in mind, but decided that that would only send the girl into a mighty fluster. So she settled on smiling and, sitting between Jez and Bowen, watched the fight.

"A tempo."

Sophia barely saw Ianto's swords streaking towards her: eyes half closed, the world changed. In her mind's eye, the softly ringing swords transformed into the trilling of flutes, their master's scuffling feet like drums against the dirt. Muffled conversations picked up violins, sighing a haunting harmony as her own ribbons awakened, sopranos awaiting their cue. All around, motes of dust whispered excitedly to themselves, exchanging delights with the birds watching bright-eyed from the trees. All that remained was for the dance to begin, and her partner was already moving. It would be bad manners not to follow his lead, wouldn't it?

Sophia barely moved: two steps, one back, one to her right, head bobbing to the silent beat as the blades whizzed by, snicking a strand of ebon hair away from her cheek as she slid around behind their arc, feet skipping lightly across the the sandy ground. Her right arm extended, helping the outermost sword on its way with a cheeky brush of her fingertips. At the very least, the gesture had helped her to avoid the attack. Whether her deceptively light tap would knock the Templar off balance was another matter. But her arm kept spinning, throwing the mage into a pirouette that carried her left elbow up, around, forward, a blow aimed directly for the Templar's passing temple.

Templar's temple?

Sophia winced. Horrible puns had their places. In the middle of a dance was not one of them.

He'd been expecting "quick," but the speed and grace with which Sophia moved out of the path of his swords was beyond even that. He could hardly say that she'd "moved" out of the way, either - it had been far more like a dance-step, expertly rehearsed and endlessly performed so that the step came as easily as breathing. Her fingers even danced along the edge of his sword a moment, as if congratulating them on a job almost well done.

He didn't stop, though. No stopping, because stopping led to thinking and that was why he was doing this. He could already feel her slipping back into the sanctuary where her memory was kept in the back of his mind, and for a moment, he wanted to reach out to make her stay. But he knew he had to let her go. Again.

Instead, he followed through on the movement, swords moving in a razor arc as he stepped then turned, a seemingly fluid movement to the untrained eye but merely a novice step imitating a master's. He didn't need to be as elegant as her, though. It just needed to work.

He barely had the time to recover, though, when another blow was aimed at his head. It seemed deceptively gentle, but he knew without feeling that no matter the force behind it, a blow to the head was never one to be taken willingly. So he dropped, because moving out of the way at that point was impossible, and as he came back up the elbow had passed "harmlessly" over him. He was disadvantaged, though - from this close, in a spar, moving his swords would be difficult. Were it a real fight, he could have gutted his enemy and been done with it, but there was no way to non-fatally move his swords, this close to the dancer. So he moved back. He almost felt like he was dancing, too.

"Beautiful. So you can dance."

Was it wrong, that she insisted on using the non-lethal nature of the spar to her advantage? Sophia wouldn't have cared, even if she knew. Her partner could move, sword and body alike shifting out of reach, ready and waiting, with a skill that, even if it lacked the finesse of a master, sizzled with potential. She couldn't give him any time to rest: such a respite simply would have been rude, considering the feelings... or memories... they were both trying so hard to ignore.

"Show me more."

Smiles stretched as the Fade warped, leaking a wisp of Entropy that tangled itself in Ianto's hair, whispering, gibbering, plucking at his senses with wispy claws in an attempt to distract, to divert. Hardly a Waking Nightmare, but simple Disorientations could foul the most practiced of warriors. Of course, a Templar was hardly an ordinary warrior. Whether he was distracted or not, she had to keep him moving, fighting... tiring.

A blur of motion (one, two, three steps,) a grateful mirror to Ianto's retreat, so close as to be flirting with the glittering blades frozen in his hands. Any closer, and she would be able to feel his heartbeat, close enough to touch...

How will you react, if I come this close? What would you do to an enemy?

Frozen eyes smiled.

"What would you do to protect her?" Oh-so-conversational. Should she? Shouldn't she? Sophia bit her lip, thrills dancing down her spine at the sight of those memories, darkening her partner's eyes as he fought so hard to forget... but why forget? Why let them vanish, when they drove him to fight all the harder?
Now... what drove him to fight? Faith? As a Templar, Ianto might... but he seemed to be more or less accepting of Margald, an apostate so blatant about her Maleficar status it was almost embarrassing. Money? Definitely not. That left... ah. Love. As if she couldn't have noticed it before.

The whisper was so soft that not even the wind, tangled curiously in the Divan-tree, overheard it.

"What did you do to protect the first woman who took half your heart away?"

He fought to keep the spell at bay, where it reached and pulled at his mind to distract his movements. It reached for him like it wanted to do more, but was held back by its caster, and he was glad for that. It was hard to strike out, to fight it like he should have, because what Sophia asked him was impossible - to show her more would only risk her getting hurt, and even now, that was something he could not allow.

A thought came to him, then, so quiet that he almost didn't notice he'd thought it. It might have come on instinct alone, truthfully, and he didn't know why it hadn't occurred to him before. With a quick movement, his swords we were reversed in his hands, so that the dull edge of the blade was where the sharp edge should have been. The balance felt strange in his hands, even just like that, but now he could strlke as he would without worry of really hurting Sophia. It was at least one tactical weight off of his shoulders. With that done, he lashed out, even as she danced out of his reach, and that was all he needed, because with her distracted, even momentarily, he could reach into the magic he didn't have, the magic that the Templars put in him and everyone like him, and pushed her magic away with it. Her spell lingered at the edges of his mind, and he had to shake his head to rid himself of the thoughts and feelings they reached for, but at least it no longer drugged his arms and legs from moving.

He moved for her, then, blades gliding faster now that he didn't have to restrict their movements as much. He got in close, so close, and she came to meet him half way, like a waltz performed to the ring of blades and magic instead of music. It was almost like a music itself. And then she spoke, a question so close that she could whisper it, and he could feel his blood run cold.

Nothing, he thought viciously, but not at Sophia - at himself. Because had had been unable to protect her - a lie. He could have done everything to protect her. A little mage so like Jez and so unlike Sophia, a small thing who'd danced with gentleness, not confidence, who had been afraid of everything, who had been his world even if he hadn't been hers. It was almost tragic, like one of the Dancer's stories, only it wasn't tragedy because it was real, and wasn't that the real tragedy of it?

He had to recover from the blow her words threw at him, for they had not been merely innocent, and he stumbled. A novice's mistake, and he cursed himself before regaining his footing as if it had been nothing more than a misstep in a dance.

"Nothing," he answered her again, but aloud now, and he swept his right's sword toward her. The left's followed from a lower direction as his next words followed his first. "That's where I failed her." It sounded so matter of fact to his ears, but only because he made the words so - he could have shouted them.

The Shadow was perplexed at the sudden hostile attitude Drake shot at him at his innocuous statement of fact. He did not know how to respond to such a thing. "The way it be seen, why not let one who is actually tainted be doing the research on the cure? It be faster that way. She not be one of my kind yet, and she can be saved if she be given to the Father. She need not be turned into a Broodmother out of your negligence and malcontent." He snapped back, his infinite patience seemingly fractured because of all of the hostility.

He turned to Jezarine instead who had a much more academic question. "I not be a scientist. The Father be one. I be his messenger and nothing more." He said, shaking his head. "Well, that not be true. I be also your prisoner."

Now she was trying to tear her attention from a few directions with Drake glaring at the masked man, Robert talking with Drake, Ianto sparring with Sophia and now Caterina and the masked man speaking to her.

Caterina's questionong startlrd her and because she had dreamed for more her face reddened, the flower tatoo pattern becoming brighter as her shyness overtook her making it difficult to come up with a suitable answer. Why were they hardly apart from each other since the kidnapping? It was not as though she did not like it but she had easily become used to his presence as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I ... well he hasn't ... oh he has not left me alone. I mean, don't get me wrong I like him being around me but I don't know ... is he ..." Well this was more than confusing. They normally spent a lot of time together but he was always there now. It felt natural so how could she tell why even if she knew why she liked it? Yes she knew but she couldn't tell anyone because he was a templar. Right?

But the masked one now spoke words which confused her and also caught her attention, "Messenger and prisoner? Why? I don't understand and why would this father know about the ... " Then Jezarine sat shocked as she noticed what he had said and asked fearfully, "What are you,"

''Nothing you should worry about, Jez'' Calliara assured, smiling gently at her and patting her shoulder, her other hand still cleching to Drake's arm, maybe too hard, but she needed to feel him there.

Then she looked at the Shadow as calm as she could, trying to keep her voice soft to not disturb any of the others, as none of them were aware of what the Shadow actually was, following Nygozy's orders.

''Don't say I'm not one of your kind yet, because that's not going to happen. Ever. I prefer killing myself the very moment I feel like I'm changing faster. I am trying hard to accept your presence even if that makes me feel strange and sick, and I'm trying to respect that now that you're... 'free' from that foul influence you're a sentient being, but that doesn't change the fact that I won't be one of you''

She breathed deeply, thinking about something that haunted her since the moment she knew she was tainted, and finally, asked

''I do need to know something though. Were you born from... Were you born what you are or were you something else and you were tainted and changed? Those who are changed remember their past lives? They are aware of what had happened to them?''

The Shadow realized he may have been overstepping his boundaries when the healer elf inquired as to what he was. He didn't want to incur any harm on himself or the others on his account so he kept silent for a time. And then Calliara went off on a rant that clearly showed she misinterpreted his words. Bloodshot gold eyes softened beneath the mask and cowl. "Be not my intention you change. I be saying The Father could remove the taint, given time. He be needing you however." He said simply in his quiet, raspy voice. He tried to ignore Jezarine's question about what he was, knowing she seemed the type to panic, moreso now than when he observed her along with the others for the past month or so.

To Calliara's other questions, the Shadow contemplated how to answer this without alerting the others. "I be not remembering a life before the song. It be possible I be normal once. Before... I be getting sick? Some who be freed remember past lives. Does it be mattering where I came from? I be born from a mother's womb as everyone else, despite what you be thinking. Be I less than human because of how I be born?" He asked her, suddenly breaking into philosophical debate. "Be a bird any less of a living creature because it be born from an egg? A fish? You who be dismissing my kind as little more than something to be killing wantonly."

"The father cannot have her." Drake said coldly as he held Calliara tighter and patted Jezarine's shoulder, "Calliara is right. Nothing to worry about, Jez." He put his head on his lady's shoulder and sighed as he listened to the chirping of some songbirds.

He heard one chirp and his eyes opened while he sighed, "Time is now." He said to Calliara even though she would have read the chirp just as he had. He kissed her neck tenderly, not wanting to leave her side but knowing he had to, "I need to go but I should not be long. Please, set up the party in the ballroom, A25 near Nygozy's section of the wing. I will be there after this meeting, shortly."

Drake stood, lifting Calliara up with him then kissed her deeply, holding her close, "Soon." He slowly let her go, his fingers lingering across her arm then hand and last at her fingers, touching gently then he was gone, moving past the fighters and into the palace.

Calliara sighed and nodded, letting him go, then sat down again and picked Fenrir up in her arms, watching Ianto and Sophia sparring

''Alright guys... tell me what things you'd want to eat so I can order the cook to start preparing things... I know you want meat and eggs, Bowen, you're so simple that I always know what you want to eat. I'm asking the others''

She looked around, still feeling a bit strange having the darkspawn that close and trying to pretend nothing happened just to not alert anyone about him.

''Also, I'd want to tell you that, if we're going to party, try to dress up properly. I'm not saying you should dress like ridiculous nobles, but don't come smelling like rusty metal''

Robert kept quite after Drake replied, keeping his attention on the situation unfolding concerning the mysterious man who was talking to Calliara. Something about him didn't seem right. Why did they let this man roam free? Can't they not see him for what he is?

He had to hold back every fiber of his being from grabbing an arrow and stabbing that man in the neck with it. He can only watch as he interacted with the others. He felt the urge rising and falling, in due part to Drake and Calliara. Talks of a party help put him at ease abit, but if that man dares to show up, he don't know if he could restrain himself.

"I think I'll have the same as Bowen." Robert replied, getting a bit hungry. Calliara's other comment had him at a loss. He didn't wear armor, but he doesn't have anything that he didn't fight in. He could work together his normal clothes to look halfway proper, but he still fights in them. He could go out and get some nicer clothes.

''Alright then...'' Calliara sighed and rose, leaving Fenrir in Jezarine's lap, and streched

''I am going to speak with the cook then, and get things prepared for this afternoon. Have fun, cubs, and behave properly''

With a nod, the Wolf left and stepped into the estate

As Calliara stood to leave Jezarine watched with big eyes then turned to Robert with concern. She did not like this masked person. He made her very nervous with the way he talked and by the seems of it he made the Wolf nervous too. That was not good, not good at all.

She picked up the pup and cuddled him almost like a teddy bear for comfort as Torture glared at the man. He could smell the taint and wanted to get it out of his domain but his person had said no so he watched and waited. If it moved in any way he did not like then it would be torn to pieces.

"Oh we don't really need a party ..." Jezarine started then sighed as Calliara was now out of earshot, "So ... tell me Robert ... uh ... what is it like in Redcliffe?" Ok it was lame but it was something other than this shadow.