Hands now mostly clean of blood, the Warden dropped his grubby furs to the ground. He'd most likely need to throw them, as the effort of washing them was beyond him at the moment. But they were very useful, despite the Orlesian warmth, mostly to avoid the looks - the same ones that he could see in the woman's eyes now: surprise and suspicion. Having never really left the Anderfels, Vetur was still getting used to the idea of Wardens being rare. Over a thousand Wardens called Weisshaupt home, but here in Orlais there were far fewer, and in Ferelden there were hardly more than a few dozen or so.<br/><br/>As Vetur mounted his weapons to his giant shoulders, he nodded to the group's words of goodbye. He kneeled to gather up his furs, but raised his head at the mention of 'Drakes', remembering the incident on The Revenant along with what he'd been told by the Templars. He stared up suspiciously from under his eyebrows: had he just assisted the buyers? Were they meeting here to collect? 'Investigate the Drake situation' she said. There had to be a connection. Did he need to interfere? There were three of them, and one of him. The odds were unfavourable...<br/><br/>Vetur stood slowly, and saw something in their expressions change. The human woman, she seemed concerned about something. Vetur hadn't reached for his weapon yet, but perhaps she could sense the tension in his body. His muscles coiled and ready to spring into action should either of them suddenly rush him when he interrogated them. But before he did so - she asked who he was.<br/><br/>The Northman spread his feet slowly into a wider combat stance as he introduced himself. "Vetur Maekirbjorn, Warden Commander of the South-East Outpost." Aggression filled his voice as he spoke, the words becoming a growl. Like a serpent's strike, his hands reached over his shoulders and drew the two weapons. His left hand held the axe defensively, whilst his right pointed the longsword at the trio before him. His blade was steady, his voice without waver, but in truth the heart in his chest was thundering. His stamina had barely begun to recover; another fight so soon would be...<em>difficult</em>.<br/><br/>"Your turn, and speak quickly: Who are you? How are you involved with the Drakes from The Revenant?!"