[b][i][center]The Grey Warden
Val Royeaux[/b][/i][/center]

The despair and sorrow in this colorful capital was thick enough to cut with a dagger. Usually a place of culture and beauty, now just a place of misery and pain. A familiar feeling to The Grey Warden. Walking into the city, he was quickly accosted by beggars and refugees asking him for alms, but he had none to spare. He could feel the desperate hands of men, women, and children trying to grab a hold of him, hoping that he could save them. He knew why; the emblem that shined brightly on his chest, the symbol of the Grey Wardens, the order which he named himself after. They saw him as some sort of hero to save them from their plight. But the truth of the matter was that, even though he had fought countless battles, slain thousands of Darkspawn, nothing he did had even so much as scratched the surface of the Blight. There was only so much he could do himself, and it wasn't enough. He needed to find the Grey Wardens of Orlais, and help them however he could. 

Talking through the crowded streets, he could feel more hands trying to take his coin purse. But even if they were successful, all they would find is dirt; he was just as poor as they were, and the only things of value on him was his armor and weapons. And he refused to turn those in. Normally he would reprimand the thieves for trying to steal from him, but than he'd likely have to give a lashing sermon to the entire street, as just about everyone kept trying to steal his nonexistent coin. But they did serve one problem; they kept getting in his way. Since he couldn't simply cut them down, and actually hurting them would make a bad reputation on the Grey Wardens, he had to take detour. So many detours that he got lost. On the bright side, at least there wasn't anyone trying to take his coin.

[b]"Now where am I suppose to go..."[/b] The Grey Warden said with a slight lisp.