There are Slavers Here... and other human failings Who: Hissra, Thren Canondais Where: Denerim Marketplace, just outside the Chantry When: 18 Molioris, before this plot thread. Summary: Hissra is suspicious, he has little faith in these humans and their laws, little fondness for their reeking cities, and there is a very tall suspicious looking human with an elf girl. Disapproving Qunari glower. Rating: Should be fine
Hissra was impatient. He felt tired though he needed no sleep. It was morning but the sky in Denerim was not light like it would be home in Par Vollen. The whole city was grey and damp, from the stone streets wet with refuse to the clouded sky overhead. Hissra stood with the solid stone Chantry at his back. Humans in bland yellow and rose colored robes milled about, one of them preaching what sounded like sheer nonsense to one who was versed in the Qun. The Karashok was in with the rest of the party, and Hissra knew better than to wander too far. But here from his place at the edge of marketplace he could observe the morning rituals of the human city.
Here they set up stalls crowded with their inferior goods. Merchants shouted at passerbys, trying to alert them to the items for sale. He smelled the sweet scent of the early morning pastries in the bakery that he knew was across the large square. Hissra shifted on his feet, glaring down at a robed man who cringed from this small movement, as if Hissra's sheer size would force the sturdy Chantry to crumble down atop them. Foolish creatures. He strode two short steps away from the closed door at his back, feeling restless at all this waiting and standing. There was no going, no action. They were nowhere close to their destination. Time was being wasted on every leg of the journey thus far. Hissra wondered if this was how all human groups functioned. If their soldiers were this disorganized then it would be easy to crush them under the word of the Qun when they finally invaded. He could not keep these wonderings from his mind, even though he was aware they were impolite. He was at least careful not to speak such thoughts.
His shoulders tensed Hissra clasped his hands together behind him, feeling the powerful muscles in his shoulders bunch. Muscles that were useless to a mage. A warrior would have used his body, wielding a weapon that became part of it. A mage was simple a body through which magic was channeled, and no strength of the physical sort was required for such a thing. In truth, most mages he had seen on these shorts were not very physically fit, or at least did not appear that way, and they wore long robes, like the priests, or like women. Much of Hissra's bulk was due to the fact simply that he was Qunari, and Qunari were physically superior. But he had also maintained his training, keeping himself in good physical condition. There was little else to do when one was caged for most of one's life.
Sighing, Hissra briefly fingered the heavy shackled on his wrists, now unfettered by chains, and gazed out once more across the open marketplace, his eyes searching, searching for anything strange or suspicious. Perhaps he would find their slavers now while the others were still inside making plans and dragging themselves wearily out of their bedrolls. If Hissra were to find that suspicious character, then at least they could move on swiftly.