<strong>Marc Alton: Keep improvising<br/>Northwest of Ostagar in the Korcari Wilds, with Ruvena</strong><br/><br/>Marc was silent for a few seconds after the templar, or whatever she was, finished speaking.  She had a way with words, and it was hard to tell if she saw through his claim, or simply suspected him just because he was a mage.  Either way, she was a hardass.  He'd have to give her the slip after it got dark, or stun her long enough to grab Gale.<br/><br/>Speaking of Gale...  She was bound now, facing towards him.  Her face was a furious red, her eyes wet with anger and frustration.  He wanted to signal here to calm down, run with what he was saying.  But then her captor would see that.<br/><br/>Marc looked back at the not-templar dressed in heavy armor, and smiled.  "Great!  I promise we won't try to escape.  It was a miracle we even made it through the night.  Circle's not too keen on survival skills as you can expect."  Marc paused, choosing his words carefully.  "Look, about Gale, she--"<br/><br/><em>"Survivors?"</em><br/><br/>The mage's head swiveled, hands cupped and ready to summon fireballs on a moments notice.  But darkspawn couldn't speak.  He saw what looked to be a rather short, slender man, or more likely an elf, though it was hard to tell with the hood he was wearing.  Marc stayed silent, but relaxed a bit.  He wasn't a templar, and definitely not a darkspawn.  He'd let the not-templar speak first, to draw attention away from himself, and make it look like he was completely willing to follow her lead.