Another step in the Journey (Kirkwall Docks-Open)

The moment he'd set foot into this grim city, the hooded man had felt...torn. The place was old, and the mark of his cultural heritage was plain to see, even as the marring effects of the Chantry, Orlesian and other influences attempted to smother it out. The great walls still bore the faces of the gods upon them, beyond the reach of those who would do them harm. He took some solace in that, even if everything else about this place gnawed at him.

Andoral's city. I see now why nonbelievers call him the Dragon of Chains.

There in lied the rub. The great statues, of iron and stone, that perfectly captured the subservience and agony the slaves would endure in the Tevinter Imperium. His ancestors had been a proud, cruel people, in the height of their power. What remained paled in comparison to the legacy they'd left behind.

Conflicted, he made his way to the docks. The ship departing to Ferelden shouldn't be too hard to latch onto, and his pilgrimage required passage to Denerim. When the water was in sight, the disciple pulled off hood, taking a moment to breath in salty air. It was accompanied by several other, unpleasant, odors, but the scent of salt water was as pleasing as it was familiar.

Had anyone been walking by, they would have seen a tall blonde man, dressed in black, his eyes closed, disconnected from the chaos around for a moment, content to lose himself in his thoughts.