Ser Nerys Ronain, Knight of Redcliffe (ronain) wrote in thedas,
Admittedly, Nerys didn't quite know what to make of her partner -- he was, thankfully, a quiet one, but an oddity to her, nonetheless. It was neither that he was an elf or an Orlesian that confused her, so much as that he was both, and yet he was apparently a well-armed scout and ally of the elite Grey Wardens. She had never been to Orlais herself, but what she knew of it (mostly through her former Arlessa Isolde), it didn't seem common for an elf to be allowed to run around with so much weaponry. Nevertheless, the knight had no other choice but to trust that he was reliable and competent.
Luckily, it seemed that they didn't need the extrasensory abilities of a Warden in their company as they broke off from the group. Cafall put his nose to the ground, his ability to catch the foul scent of the darkspawn just as acute. Nerys let the hound and the elf keep ahead of her; she was slower and bulkier in her armor, and her skills with ranged weapons, while not poor, were less accurate than his. She watched their movements carefully, hands at the ready to draw her greatsword. Cafall stopped first, the slight twitch of his ears a swifter indication that they had found what they were looking for than the low growl that followed. The scout, Raelias, was no slouch, either -- he'd notched an arrow just before her own eyes caught up to the sight of a hurlock between the boughs.
Already reaching for her scabbard, she nodded in response to his glance, affirming that she was ready. The archer would provide a suitable distraction while she made an attempt to ambush the small crowd. One hand wrapped around the hilt of her blade, while the other signaled for Cafall to follow her. The dog trotted after her as she circled around the party of darkspawn, moving away to flank them from the opposite side. Nerys drew her sword as soon as she heard the arrow land its mark in the flesh of the beast. As the creatures looked around in fury and confusion, the knight took the opportunity to strike, charging forward to swing the blade through the neck of the closest genlock.