ᴴᴬᵂᴷᴱ on RolePlayer.me - www.roleplayer.me/kirkwallowflower ᴴᴬᵂᴷᴱ
Don’t worry. Helping people and killing people are what I’m best at.

Female
25 years old
Swords, Dublin
Ireland

Last Login:
February 18 2020

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Characters: Elise Hawke, Kirkwall’s esteemed and angry Champion
Verses: Dragon Age, Witcher, any and all crossovers welcomed.
Playbys: Bob Ross
Length: Multi Para, Novella
Genre: Crossover, Drama, Fantasy, Spar/Fighting, Video Game,
Member Since:July 14, 2019










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ᴴᴬᵂᴷᴱ's Friends Comments
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𝕲uardian.

Feb 7th 2020 13:27


Screams from afar, calling for help and mercy, mixed with the screams of joy, thrill and lust. Two very different kinds of people, both caused Silas to shiver; but with different intentions. Against better judgement, Silas made quick way towards the site. It wasn't hard to find, not only the screams but the smoke rising high, challenging the sun, were easy to follow.

A lone bandit was the first he'd crossed; a young man, clothes filled with the little riches the villages had to offer. Coin, ornaments, heritage jewelry and gemstones among the loot. It wasn't much, considering the poverty reigning, and yet this band of scum decided to take it anyways, by force.

The young man was the first of many to meet his end at Silas' blade. He'd unsheathed it with finesse, and with that same finesse, slit open the male's throat before cutting his head off with one clean move. He remained calm, in control as he made his first kill. His eyes searching for additions to join to the small collection of gore he'd already created; but it seemed that his comrades were busy stripping the rest of the village.

Arriving on site, Silas stood at the road that led to the village on one side, and to a trade route on the other. The screams were there, along with the smoke; but no bandits to be spotted. The mere thought of what the filth was up to caused Silas' anger to waver for just a second, before he regained his calmth once more. His eyes were focused on another lone figure coming up to him, seemingly ready to strike at him. Still, Silas remained calm as he also knew that she wouldn't. She was infuriated, but not mad to slash at everything on her path, clearly.

" I am very much against them. " It was like fire and water met, the hunger and craze rising within the woman clashing with his own remainder of calmth and control. A wonderful duo, could be said. Her eyes seemed to glow, and though vivid blue of colour, they seemed like fire. 

The moment of assessing her was quick, as he walked past her and seemed to count all of the properties. He'd seen many bandits at work in these areas, and knew there would be at least two in each house or hut. If they were from the gang he'd seen earlier, a nasty lot; merciless, and big. But before the two could even converse on how to handle things, five brawny men came from one of the huts, equally big grins painting their faces as they hold onto broadswords and axes. " Look at that, Piotr. A wench! " Silas closed his eyes for a moment, wondering how mankind could be truly as stupid as to underestimate a furious woman, and not just any woman; he'd already noticed. " Good, good! Come to daddy! " He yelled, nearly choking on his laughter as he grabbed his c*ck through his clothes, taunting the woman. " Come on, don't make me wait! "

Just as the man said that, Silas had charged forward and, in a swift move, seperated the hand and c*ck from the man's body. Fitting punishment, always a pleasure. The man howled, falling to the ground and scourging the earth with his blood whilst also cursing at an impressive rate, still. Considering the man did nothing to stop the bleeding, Silas considered him to be a lost cause, left to bleed out and glanced over his shoulders towards the woman. 

He heard one of the men charging at him, causing for him to turn his attention back to the small battleground he'd created. Silas parried the first blow, countering it with an impressive strike of his own which only dealt little damage, a small graze along the man's arm. Not nearly enough to be fatal. Silas heard the steel that was lunched at him again, sing, screeching as it hit his own blade. A hard kick to the stomach took Silas down, but offered him the grand position to slice upwards and get lots of blood spurted at him in return. Another one down. 

Retaking his position the dance of swords restarted, with more and more joining. And yet, he had faith of winning this, alongside the fierce woman who seemed to be ready to die before fleeing.
Avallach'h

Jan 30th 2020 04:14


Avallac’h acknowledged her greeting with a faint nod, returning it calmly, his anyway slightly hushed dark, surprisingly soft voice marked with a soothing tone upon noticing her internal struggle she probably was able to hide from most, yet not form him.  - “Vedui’(greetings), dear child. It is a pleasure. – You may call me Avallac´h.”
“This is Hawke, my ward ever since her mother, one of our best archers, sadly perished in battle against the forces of the Dark Lord.” Elrond spoke up, concluding the official introduction. “Please take a seat, Aen Saehverne.”

That said Avallac´h followed Elrond’s inviting gesture and took a seat on one of the benches which placed him between the Lord of Rivendell and the half-elf.
“So, if I am guessing why I am called to this place, combining your former remark regarding my help as an Aen Saehverne and upon meeting this extraordinary young woman I am inclined to say you are looking for someone to teach your ward how to deal with her… well, abilities. Might that be possibly somewhat close to the truth?”
Avallac’h inquired while his bright gaze wandered from the one to the other.

Elrond replied with a nod “Your mind is as sharp as ever, dear friend – Yes, I was sending word for you as someone with your abilities and skills is needed in order to help Hawke to deal with her… gifts.”
A silent nod was everything that came in return for several moments, then the Elder Sage turned, setting his silvery-blue eyes firmly on the other Elder.
“Teaching her would mean that I am with her for more than just a few hours. – And you very well know that I am not intrigued by the thought of having to stay here for an extended period of time, do you not?” – 
Another nod from Elrond’s side, “I have not forgotten.”
For another few moments Avallac’h pondered over the situation.
 “Well, that then indeed would mean that you are planning to send her away with me.”
For the third time Elrond´s reaction was an affirmative nod, though the pang of sadness, even guilt flashing across his serene face spoke volumes regarding how he felt about this.
“Look, there are several reasons why I… why we need your help here… and why Hawke cannot stay. As much as latter fact pains me. -  First, no one else around here is even close to being as skillful and capable when it comes to use and control magic as you are, Avallac’h. – And well, … then there is another issue, one I need to talk to you about in private… some greater matter, as I implied earlier.”

This time it was the Sage who returned a nod.
“I understand – but then there still are the three of us. This is not only a matter between you and me, Elrond. As all this appears to be rather settled may I assume that nothing has been decided by you alone but has been discussed with Hawke and is in accordance of what she wants, too - It is, it is not?” Here a brief asking look was flashed towards the person in question before he went on, “… I shan´t take her with me against her will like a mindless bundle – Therefore I won´t make any decision on that matter, without hearing her out.”
Here he turned slightly to direct his focus towards the young she-elf.
“Hawke, dear child. May I ask you to be so kind to share your thoughts on this issue. As a matter of fact I will not conclude anything without the consent of the person most involved.”

Iorweth

Jan 30th 2020 02:04


He plays the flute, again for himself as always, yet not entirely… he melody one he hasn´t touched for years, sad, soothing, heavy with memories, good ones, ones only for him and not even that… that´s why he avoided it, and yet now it fill the inside of the ruined watchtower like a warm blanket… - for her. – How silly is that, a bloe´dhe d´hoine, a particular annoying one at that and he shares THIS… still, it feels right.
Even while he plays her mumbled remark of being afraid goes not unnoticed and though he desists from taking her up on it, from digging deeper to not prevent her drifting into slumber as she was the words make an impact. She is afraid, of what? Him? Sleeping? – Both maybe? Does she fear now that he is back on his feet, he might change his mind about her and become a threat because she is one of those he is fighting so fiercely over decades? Does she really know him so well to know, despite what the legends tell,  a word given by him is kept, and if he says he owes her DOES,  annoying as she is she has earned his respect, trust even to a degree almost comparable to his Scoia´tael.

Well, Beast at least seems to trust him as the elf is rather sure if he didn´t he´d been a lot of trouble, trouble weighing well over than a 100 pounds equipped with sharp fangs, jaws that are able to crush bones like they were made of wax. The huge monstrosity of a hound though lies next to him, relaxed, slightly snoring, yet the occasional twitching of his ears implying that their four-legged companion is very much attentive and aware what is going on around them.
The night passes peacefully, Iorweth drifting between states of being awake and dozing off for a bit, knowing to have a pretty sharp early warning system resting next to him. Latter only sparks twice, neither turns out to be a real threat, once it is a small herd of Endrega workers passing by in the soggy undergrowth, however as long as they aren´t attacked the huge insects don´t bother for anything but the task to gather food for their queen who surely is hidden away well enough somewhere in the region. The second alert is cause by a pack of wild dogs, animals who lost their owners during the war, angry, mangy animals even more dangerous than wolves as they do lack the natural fear of humanoids – still the smell of Beast´s presence and the fire keep them form even attempting to disturb the little group inside their hideout.

At some point the rain stops and fog begins to rise between the trees – soon the outside world has vanished behind a thick, greyish white veil moving between the trees like the ghosts of the fallen. Probably spooky to most, yet rather welcomed by the elf – with a cover like this, most certainly reaching down to the river and further their movements were made a lot easier, indeed if it is reaching as far as Ban Glean they might be even able to approach the city unnoticed, an idea sparked by the hope to  be able to get in contact with some of his scouts he positioned there  between the other non-humans. The Scoia´tael as elusive as they are actually are more present than some probably assumed them to be, not at least for the sake of securing supply routes and to gather precious information. Therefore in almost every non-human quarter, or rather slum of each bigger city a few of them were hiding in plain sight, posing as simply merchants, craftsmen, blacksmiths or similar – they also served as contact points to refill supplies or as shelter for the night, or, as he hoped in their case, to be the spot to get some decent breakfast, other than once again a serve of elven porridge.
“Hey, d´hoine, it´s time to wake up”, he softly nudges the visible shoulder of the young woman mostly buried underneath his gambeson and curled up in a bed of dry leaves and her own coat to his right.

Avallach'h

Jan 29th 2020 16:36


Avallac’h brought his grey stallion to a halt right in centre of the round square at the bottom of a flight of steps, framed by a two huge, artfully crafted statues of elven warriors – the entrance to the Sindarin realms of Imladris.
His faithful four-legged companion stopped right in front of the two guards, resembling the living counterparts of the stone wardens, and currently blocking the way with crossed spears. What little was visible of their facial features underneath the helmets showed a hint of astonishment but even more reluctance upon noticing what nature the arrival was.
One of them rather brusquely ordered Avallac’h to dismount and state his name and the purpose of his visit.

The elder Avari Sage did as told, his chiselled features not giving away a hint of what possibly was going on in his mind. The usual and for most rather unnerving distrait even indifferent expression plastered across his face while stoic serenity was marking his dark, calm almost hushed voice.
“Ceàdmil! (Greetings) Essea (I am) Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha” he chose the ancient Avari speech and the long official version of his name on purpose before he switched back to common language, “...and I am here because the master of this place, Lord Elrond demanded my presence. – So…”


“Avallac’h!” a cheerful, slightly solemn voice rang out on top of the stairs, directing the Sage’s attention towards no other than Elrond himself, “It is a pleasure and an honor to have you here, Aen Saehverne” the Eldar added while descending and beckoning the two guards to stand back and give way to their guest with a barely noticeable gesture.

Avallac’h’s brows furrowed for a moment; back then, ages ago what he assumed to be his departure from this place had not taken part on amicable terms, though it most certainly was not to blame on Elrond, who always expressed regret about what happened and ever since then did indeed his best to stay in touch with the elusive and withdrawn Sage.
Still this meeting felt highly awkward to him, the formal tone he chose masking and yet most certainly crystal clear prove to Elrond that his former friend wasn´t really sure what to make of all this – Yet, the Lord of Rivendell indeed seemed determined to not allow the past get between them and the smile gracing the ageless features didn´t waver one bit, not even when being addressed more like a stranger than an old acquaintance, friend even.
“Master Elrond, elen sila lumenn omentilmo (A star shall shine on the hour of our meeting)”, Avallac´h returned the rather informal greeting, choosing the official Sindarin greeting, even bowed a little. “I thank you for this invitation. But I must ask what is it that demands my presence here?”, while he stated the last question his pale, silvery-blue gaze flickered along the white pavilions of Rivendell arranged gracefully between waterfalls and ivy covered rocks along the valley. It was indeed a view which invoked old, deeply buried memories – happy, beautiful ones, but even more those bitter sweet and tragic nature. Avallac’h swallowed hard, fighting to keep up his impenetrable faced and succeeded, pushing the past back behind thick walls where it belonged.

In case he noticed the brief struggle of the Sage Elrond did not show it, instead a little, the genuine smile even widened in slight amusement.
“You didn´t change one bit, my dear old friend, still not one fond of small-talk. Well, let´s come straight to the point then. - I need your help in a certain matter, so if you would do me favor… ”
Elrond turned back towards the stairs with an inviting gesture and the Avallac´h answerd by joining the Eldar’s side. While he followed Elrond along the entwined paths deeper into the elven settlement the Elder Avari didn´t bother to hide his curiosity.
“So, what could that be? A matter so extraordinary you turn to a low…” – “Don´t be ridiculous, Aen Saehverne. You know very well that I never shared… certain opinions, in contrary. - This matter is of most delicate nature and utterly important to me, so I ask you to let the past rest, if not for me then.. well… you´ll see yourself soon enough.”
There was even a hint of impatience and a brief touch of anger painting Elrond’s otherwise always so calm and kind voice.
“Very well”, Avallac’h gave back, still in his deadpan manner “So?” – “This way”, was the feedback, while Elrond pointed towards one of the semi-open pavilions. “I want to introduce you to someone as this matter concerns not only the two of us, but indeed someone else, someone very dear to me.”
The Sage bowed slightly and wordlessly and followed the given instructions. Upon entering he almost immediately stopped in his tracks when he noticed the young woman occupying one of the cushioned, skilfully carved benches. Thick, ebony hair framing a delicate face – and yet it was not her stunning beauty or the fact that she was not an elf at all, or at lest not entirely, which made Avallac’h stop so suddenly, it was what he sensed within her.
“She…- is powerful” he stated unusually blunt, whereas the words where more meant to address himself than anyone present.
Elrond nodded his agreement not the slightest impressed or surprised that the other elf was able to detect this upon first sight, actually he had been expecting this; this was exactly the reason why he had called for the other Elder.
“She indeed is – and she is the reason you are here.”

Iorweth

Jan 28th 2020 08:50


To be honest Iorweth is indeed more than a little surprised when she takes the Gambeson from him  - and less due to any kind of possible smell, he assume that to human senses that was probably rather alright even, but more for the fact that for a chance she without resistance and arguing agrees on being taken cared for.
Her refusal to not sleep at once almost makes him chuckle, that was again nothing too surprising.
“No worries, I´ll eat, why shouldn´t I?!” he gives back while reaching out for the bowl. Sure he is able and used to withstand hardship and suffering, but if there is no need to go hungry or cold he is the last one to endure more discomfort than actually necessary. Indeed, his long life on the run, without a home and proper place to stay has caused him to value such moments of peace with a full belly inside dry and warm place to rest enormously. – For them, the Scoia´tael they were moments far too rare and brief to really getting used to.

While starts to get his own fill of elven porridge his suggestion really makes him chuckle slightly, then shake his head though.
“Neén (no), we, or rather you will not do anything like this – you will get you well needed rest. – And I´d make for a sh*tty bard, neither playing the lute nor having a liking for silly hats or ridiculous other attire. However, if you really insist on wanting to consort with such lot, maybe we are unlucky enough to cross path with one certain d´hoine ymladda (bard) I know… he´d be probably more than happy to tell you all the tales and even more…- indeed I am rather sure in terms of quantity of chatter you two probably would make a perfect fit, Hebog.”
The elf retorts before focusing back on his food and the fire in front of him until he in a rather mocking manner shows the empty bowl to his human self-proclaimed caretaker “Byddwch yn fodlon? – Content?” before putting it down and reaching for his flute once again.
“You try to get some sleep now, Beast and I will share the watch – however thanks to the rain I am rather sure no man or beast with the least a little sense will harbor the craving to venture into the nightly undergrowth.”
The tune that starts to flow from the elven flute then is not exactly chosen consciously and even Iorweth himself notices only after the first few notes have escaped the melody of an ancient lullaby
.

https://youtu.be/SAN5JBTnlas

Iorweth

Jan 27th 2020 03:12


He is almost ashamed to have allowed this topic get to him in this manner – that little jest of hers. Old wounds, deep wounds in the soul of his people and his own.
Old scars that still hurt, which reminded him on a daily basis to never let his guard down, especially not in the presence of d´hoine… and yet, here he was, spilling his guts like a sad drunk, like a bitter old man. Latter probably perfectly applied, even though in human eyes he didn´t look “old” – and even for elven standards he wasn´t, still 200 years, half of them spent fighting, on battlefields or on the run had taken their toll, turned him into the repellent, withdrawn, wary being he was now.
As if to prove his words Hawke gets up and it feels to him as she uses the excuse to gather water to flee his somber presence.
With a sigh he turns his attention to the flames, sitting, staring into a fire, getting lost in the soft flicker…. Until something cold and wet bumps into him from behind, uttering a deep rumble – Beast is back and somehow it seems as if their four-legged travel companion notices the lingering shadows.
Iorweth turns, even a tiny crooked smile returning while he reaches out to scratch the huge monstrosity of a hound between the ears, which immediately causes the massive animal to flop over next to him and the fire – and within an instance the atmosphere seems to brighten, lifting  the lingering gloom.

When Hawke returns Elf and Hound have arranged themselves in pleasant yet comforting silence – which of course immediately is out the window the moment she joins the party back at the fire. Yet this time the quirky presence indeed is more than welcome in its distracting way.

After another serve of elven-travelling-food is set next to the fire to soak for a bit Iorweth briefly shakes his head as an answer to her suggestion that she´ll take the first shift. He is still no expert on human mages, but rather aware that her human nature calls for a lot more rest than his own, even while he is still recovering, and even without considering the fact that she cannot stop herself from using magic and thus probably draining herself once again.

“No,  you rest first – I do not need as much sleep as you do – Beast and I will share the watch, right Beast?”, a deep grunt comes from the dark bundle next to them.
“Here,” he continues while reaching out to get his Gambeson which had been laid out to dry close to the fire, “… take this, it´s still a bit damp but will keep you warm enough… - if you can bear the smell that is”, he adds not without a tiny chuckle, aware that the piece of armor, soaked in blood, rain, sweat numerous time over the year surely is nothing near a lavender-stuffed blanket.

Iorweth

Jan 24th 2020 03:48


“No, no I have not forgotten – however,  I am just a warrior, have no idea how this magic stuff works, how much it takes from its wielder”, Iorweth gives back with an implied shrug. He indeed has little to know knowledge about using magic, only knows that its usage does not come without a prize – the Balance as Sages call it. And he still vividly remembers Hawke demonstrating drastically what happened if you didn´t respect this issue adequately.

When she is done his shoulder, his whole neck and back feel great, relaxed, refreshed, and even last bit of twitching gone he is about to pull back up the linen shirt, when her statement causes a crooked, almost shocked grin flash across his face. Though apparently meant in a teasing way the mere idea seems kinda terrifying.
“Better not”, he gives back therefore, “Your kind has gained the upper hand unalterably anyway already, by sheer numbers, by being capable of multiplying like vermin…. – to think you´d hold the same healing abilities and longevity… - we probably would be done and gone already. – However neither our healing abilities nor our inherently longer life-span have proved to be helpful against death by hanging, torture or any other of the multiple ways my people are decimated… - Sooner or later, with most of our fertile young ones gone, slaughtered, the Aen Seidhe are doomed to vanish, cease to exist….”
A somber expression, sad almost has chased away the relaxed smile of earlier while some noticeable amount of anger resonates within his voice … the same old story once again spoiling the moment…- story of his life.
Briefly he shakes his head as if trying to shoo away the dark thoughts, an attempt to ignore the bitter reality at least for a few precious moments – a futile attempt of course, foolish even.

He blinks facing a happily, mockingly grinning human face, noticing that over his little rant he obviously missed some sort of joke or jest.
For a moment silence stretches, only interrupted by the crackling of the fire while outside the downpour drowns out any other noises with monotonous splatter.
“I…  - I probably should get some more water…” 
Iorweth

Jan 21st 2020 08:27


The daggers hurled towards him via her piercing glances are ignored, once again – if at all he notices they amuse him more than actually annoy or bother in some other way. She has some fight inside her, he had to give her that, maybe has to learn to fight the right things though. Currently he is not one of them however – still, this fire of hers probably does a great deal to help her surviving this harsh world on her own as she was. –

He leaves her to deal with the loathed bowl, the faint smirk even widens when he notices how with the first few bites her resistances crumbles away, how the warm, sweet food helps her to relax and eventually, hopefully feel better.
In order to occupy himself and to not appear rushing or intruding he unwraps his leg and checks the wound there. The stitches are still in place; indeed, the wound has closed neatly, no sign of an infection is visible and except from still being a bit sensitive to touch his thigh is almost well again. Sure, another scar in his anyway rather impressive collection would remain, but then who cared anyway.

He looks up to her when the thoroughly scraped bowl is set back into his lap. “Y´r welcome – and I will eat, no worries d´hoine. When I am off your hook I´ll take care of that.” He mocks, friendly this time though, actually strangely proud of having been able to get through her prickly demeanor without any fight at all and seemingly making her feeling better as a result.

Not being one to go against his word he allows her to settle down next to him and have a look at his shoulder – “Hmm” – in the fashion of `told you` is his brief replay to her statement that he´s healing.
But then he is the one in for a surprise this time, as after the initial examination she slides even closer, arms almost slung round him, pressed against his back and front next to his shoulder wound... – it makes him tense, briefly. It is not exactly that he abhors being touched – not in general – indeed it´s not so much repulsive than unfamiliar to him. For century he has kept anyone at least at arm´s length mostly, and not only in a physical kind of way
Once the closeness reveals to have a purpose however, one practical one nothing more, nothing less,  the tension leaves, in every aspect even.
 A soothing, pleasantly warm feeling crawls along his collarbone, extends towards his arm and down his back. Nothing like he ever experienced before, his breathing eases down, and for a moment he completely gives in to the sensation, eye half closed almost as if he is dozing comfortably.

“How does it feel?”

“Good – indeed, this is utterly pleasant…”, he opens his eye and sets it onto the woman huddled down next to him, the relaxed smile giving way to the usual stern expression once again,
“You won´t overdo it again, however, Hebog, will you? – Just making sure if maybe a bucket of water might come in handy in that case.”
It is genuine concern yet wrapped into his trademark sarcastic manner.

Insatiable.

Jan 21st 2020 00:53


Hello there, allow me to introduce myself. I am Yennefer of Vengerberg, or you might know me as the Mage, or a number of little antidotes people like to come up with when they are bored. Whatever you would like to call me whether it be flattering or crud I honestly do not care. What I do care about though is coming up with a brilliant and thrilling storyline. So please don't bore me with pleasantries and lets get right to the point and create!

//Thank you for the add I cannot wait to write with you! Feel free to add me on Discord if you would like to chat or brainstorm ideas!

Discord: Lilac and Gooseberries#4767
Iorweth

Jan 17th 2020 05:09



He closes his eye while he plays – while the soft, longing melody climbs up, skitters through ivy leaves clinging to the walls until it melts away through crumbling stone and gaping, empty windows, blown away by the breeze and washed away by rain… - almost like his own people.
He is well aware that whatever he is doing the elves sooner or later will vanish, for good – too few in numbers, long lived true, however only if they are not killed… and killed they are, everywhere, constantly. - Directly through battle, torture, death sentences but also due to starvation and sickness – there is no mercy for them, nowhere from no-one.
This world wants them hard, and hardened they did… too late though.
The melody reminds him of better times – times he mostly only knows by stories told – when elven palaces shone bright and white, when swords were made for the mere sake of producing great craftsmanship, when art and beauty where the main content of their lives.
He was too young to really have any memories of this – a naïve child, a boy back then… - until his boyhood was torn from him cruelly, wrapped in bloody sheets and tossed into a stream of despair.
His life was war, fighting, betrayal and death – ruled by the law of the jungle.
To play the flute, the ancient melodies gives him a moment of sensing what it really meant to be an elf – gives him an opportunity to not be who he needed to be for the sake of surviving, for his men, the cause as lost as it was..., but to be himself, his true self. Precious moments, over far too soon….

Her soft touch makes him flinch slightly and blink himself back to reality, lazily, reluctant almost though.
However, when he opens his eye the cold, angry, piercing glare which makes  it shine like a bright, dark emerald is gone – replaced by a warm, almost amber shine.
“Hm”, the elf slightly nods his agreement to her claim to check on his wounds, “… but only after you ate.”
With that he pulls a pouch from his bundle next to him, adds some of the cereal-nuts and dry berries mix to the bubbling water and stirs until the result is, once again, the sweet, nutritious typical elven travelling food.
Adding a, actually his own and only, wooden spoon Iorweth pushes the bowl towards Hawke,
“Here, Hebog (Hawke in Elder Speech) –   you go first….-  When you are done, and ONLY when you are done you may have a look. - But don´t worry, at least the leg should be alright – mostly. We heal a lot faster than you, d´hoine, remember?!”
He places the bowl next to her on the ground and without waiting for a reply, making it pretty clear that way that the issue is not up for discussion AT ALL, he starts to undo the buckles of his Gambeson in order to get rid of the heavy and soaked piece of armor – to both, feel a bit more comfortable and also allow her to access the patched up shoulder easier.

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