I know what you have been telling the others. You mouth the word "cult," and repeat lies the Chantry has been spewing at us for a thousand years. Look around you, my friend. See what mighty Tevinter is today: a once-proud nation brought low, barely able to hold itself against the oxmen. We neutered our mages at the behest of a foreign religion, exalted their false Maker, and became the laughing stock of all Thedas. Now we have the chance to reclaim what is rightly ours, but only if we act. We cannot wait to see which way the wind is blowing—we must make it blow.
The Venatori are hunters, recruited in secret over several years. We will descend with deadly purpose, to spill the blood of the south and make it ripe for conquest; when we return to our homeland, it will be as victors, with a new god as our patron. Then the cowards who refused to aid us will know their mistake in full.