Corraich Fiadhaich
The city of Val Royeux was a crowded place right enough, the vast numbers of people seeming to take up every available inch of space, whether it be in the inns, taverns, chantrys or even the streets themselves. The press of refugees and beggars was almost suffocating, it being a bloody wonder that no one had been trampled under foot yet. That said, it was a wonder just how much space the mob would give to a six foot eight inch tall Chasind barbarian when he came ambling down the street. Maybe it was the fact that he was built like a bear that made them give him his space, or that his big, battle-scarred, heavy fists looked like they could pound an Ogre into paste if he put his mind to it, or that look in his eyes that said he'd been over the mountain a time or two. Or maybe it was the simple fact that he hadn't had a chance to wash in about a fortnight, and stank to the Makers hall. Whatever it was, they didn't have to give him his berth on the street for much longer as he had found his destination, a pretty non-descript little tavern that seemed to be a hive of drunken activity.
The big Chasind pushed his way through a group of drunks towards the door of the tavern, a couple of angry comments cut shy when the dullards realised just how massive the southerner was. The barbarian had to duck his head just to fit under the lintel, a practice he was well used to by now. He had once thought about travelling to the lands of the Qunari, just because they were so big that they surely built structures big enough to suit him. His fierce dark eyes scanned the crowd, trying to pick out his targets. It didn't take long, even in a place as packed as this they stood out like a sore thumb. Two elves and a Grey Warden in plate. Not a sight you seen every day, and he should know, he'd seen some sights in his time. The Chasind crossed to the group, managing to catch the tail end of their conversation.
"Hold up there," he said, thrusting a crumpled Chanters board bill at the group, the very one that detailed they're adopted mission. "The Mother at the Chantry sent me, names Corraich Fiadhaich. Reckon you lad's aim to find this missing husband, mind if I tag along?" The big Chasind wouldn't admit it, but he needed the work, or more accurately he needed the healing potions. If he was to bring war to the Darkspawn for what they had done to the Korcari wilds and his people then he would need all the help he could get.