Aussi vite que la conversation avait eu lieu, elle a changé de rythme aussi vite qu'une lueur rouge a jeté une lumière douce dans la grotte d'une extrémité. C'était impressionnant, vraiment, comment naturellement les quatre ont pu tomber dans une formation de combat. Les deux mercenaires à l'avant ont fourni une barricade de bouclier à Erika et son homologue mage pour lancer des attaques de la sécurité de derrière. Pour le directeur, elle a été soudainement reconnaissante. Car, sans ses sorts brillamment jetés, elle n'aurait pas la lumière dont elle avait besoin pour abattre les cadavres de marche avec la précision de l'arc qu'elle tirait de son dos.
-- Qu'est-ce qu'il y a au nom d'Andraste? Erika a dit lors de l'observation du lyrique qui semblait tellement lié aux choses que leur peau rampait. Elle savait que c'était une substance méchante et instable, mais ce n'était pas ce qu'elle avait rencontré auparavant. Pourtant, elle a continué de tirer des flèches de son carquois et de déclencher une attaque massive sur leurs assaillants tandis que son partenaire de confiance et le Templier les ont mis à l'abri avec bouclier et mac sur la ligne de front.
Avec leurs forces combinées et la puissante attaque de feu du directeur, le quatuor semblait faire un travail rapide de leur opposition. Cependant, d'où qu'ils viennent, il y en aurait beaucoup plus. Erika s'avança et tira une flèche du cou d'un des cadavres, le plaçant dans son carquois.
"Nous ne nous faisons pas beaucoup d'amis dans ces parties, sauf vous deux. Je pense qu'il est temps de faire un saut sur quelqu'un au lieu de laisser tout le monde se faufiler sur nous. Est-ce qu'on va le faire?"
Name: Flint Cadash
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Appearance: Like most Dwarfs Flint's battle scarred features are kept hidden behind a thick brownish beard that is almost always kept tied in overly elaborate brades, his grumpy pudgy pit bullish face a seemingly constant mask of weariness-the look of a man that has seen far to much of the dark side of life in Thedas. Of all his features the one that stands out most of all is the large black S shaped tattoo on his right cheek, although his crooked nose (clearly having been broken a few times) comes in at a close second. At his full height he stands at a whopping 4'11”, although his stout muscular frame looks much more intimidating while encased in his thick iron plate mail.

Nationality: N/A (Orzamar outcast)
Race: Dwarf
Organization/Occupation: Inquisition/Mercenary
Equipment: Aside from an enchanted wooden Buckler and his average looking mace Flint carries the bare essentials along with a few personal knicknacks, all of which he usually keeps bound to his back in an old leather rucksack.
Specialization: Carta “Training”
History: Born the lowest of the low in a society where position is everything Flint was quick to learn just how important standing up for himself was, a fact that lead him down a path of constant fights and run ins with the law. In his world though the fact of the matter was his family could either starve or eat off the coin he earned doing things many claimed the paragons frowned upon.
Sod the paragons.
The stone had found it fit to give Flint a hard body and soft soul, a fact that clashed with the day to day dealings of his various “jobs”. Nonetheless for eighteen long years Flint begrudgingly locked his conscience away.
After years of hard work, shady dealings, and a fair amount of blood Flint had made his way up to a position of some actual importance-at least it was an important position to the far to numerous casteless that occupied Dust Town. For almost a year things had begun to look up for Flint, serving just underneath a wicked woman named Jarvia had brought him more wealth then he had ever seen up to that point in his life-he had so much money he was even able to afford a fancy looking ring for his younger sister.
All good things must come to an end as they say though, something Flint truly took to heart after the death of Jarvia-an event that created a power vacum unseen in Dust Town for as long as Flint could remember. One thing led to another and before Flint knew it he was taking his first (and hesitant) steps onto the surface, the ensuing blood bath in Dust Town having earned him and a handful of other teary eyed dwarfs a one way ticket above ground.
Amazingly Flint was shocked to find that he took to surface life far better then he would have ever imagined, his mace and shield quickly finding him work as he was drug off on various adventures throughout his years of traveling. And even more impressive was how almost all of those large bumbling humans didn't pay any heed to his permanently tattooed face-to them he was 'just another dwarf.'