Nodding his head over to the silent scout Martin dropped himself off the back of the wagon and tapped out his pipe, stamping heavily on the ashes to ensure they were well and truly extinguished before turning to the Company. Clearing his throat with a loud grumbling, cough, which turned into a deep, booming rattle of a cough as he found himself bent over hacking up thick phlegm, Martin called attention.

[color=00aeef]"We're heading over ground two days inland,"[/color] The old soldier began, chewing on the lumpy mass in his mouth for a second before gobbing it off towards the remains of the campfire. [color=00aeef]"I'm not expecting there to be any trouble, bandits most likely won't want to bother such a large and well-armed party such as ours, but keep your eyes open just in case."[/color]

As he spoke Martin carefully eyed up the group gathered before him. There was quite a bit of magic in their ranks, in one form or another, even the dwarven wench's contraptions seemed to be powered by the stuff, and the militiamen they'd brought with them from Skyhold looked like they could hold a sword the right way round, at least on the second attempt. Pulling his bastard sword from its scabbard Martin raised it high into the air and glanced around the beach to make sure everyone was ready. In the distance he could see the [i]Siren[/i] as it made its way out of the bay, heading back out into the Waking Sea. The sleek wooden hull making easy work of the draining tide.

[color=00aeef][i]Good riddance,[/i][/color] he thought to himself before swinging his sword down to signal the driver to start their journey. [color=00aeef]"Forward!"[/color] He called out in his loudest battlefield voice, listening for a moment with a smile as the echoes bounced off the distant mountains.

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It had been a good two days journey, with fine weather and clear skies, and apart from a little trouble with a sneak thief who'd tried to raid the camp during the first night there'd been no problems getting the party to the Deep Roads entrance Varric had told them to look out for. Martin smiled at the memory of the thief the way he'd found the man the next morning, hanging upside down from a tree with all his belongings carefully sorted and piled underneath him. The fine elvish dagger had been passed to one of the militiamen who'd recently married, a fine present for the new husband. The rest of the trinkets had been added to the Company coffers, to be bartered away at the first opportunity. [color=00aeef][i]At least Nighthawk managed to have some fun,[/i][/color] Martin thought with a wicked smile.

Standing in front of the overgrown stone gateway Martin looked down the steep stairway with a scowl. They wouldn't have any trouble getting the wagon down into the tunnel, and from what he'd heard the path should be clear and smooth once they were in, but getting the wagon back up the stairs would be a nightmare, especially if they had to do it in a hurry or while under attack.

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TIlting his head to one side, his eyes never leaving the darkened passage in front oof his, Martin called back over his shoulder, [color=00aeef]"I'm going to need three volunteers. Someone has to go down and make sure the path ahead is clear. A Mage would be useful, in case we need to light any veilfire braziers down there."[/color]