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Samson never thought of himself as a tactical genius. It implied a level of formal education and disciplined forethought. He wasn't a fool, and he did know how to plan an attack or how to hold back a siege, but when he updated his map to show how the Inquisitions forces had moved he wasn't too proud to admit Cullen might actually be the tactical genius he wasn't.
It didn't mean Samson had lost.
Samson being on the side of Corypheus, a man who if not a god certainly had god-like power, was a boon, but more importantly Samson trusted his men. He knew these men as well as they knew him. Samson had collected the Chantry's unwanted cast offs and brought them together. Loyalty bound them in ways the Inquisition could only dream of, and the song of red lyrium turned them into a chorus that destroyed all those in their path.
They didn't need the same level of communication the Inquisition needed. When you could hear your brothers and sisters singing across the forest there was no need for runners that could be caught.
With the increased endurance and the lower need for food his templars could even stay still for days without moving, watching, and waiting for their next order.
Samson with his eyes closed knew where each soldier of his was in Dumat's Shrine. Their songs stood out in their complexity compared to the raw red lyrium, but if one was to just look it was nearly impossible to tell how many of his templars roamed the old shrine.
Even the behemoths learned to blend in by standing in total stillness. They looked no different from other clusters of red lyrium that reached for the sky when they chose to.
Even if the Cullen found him he wouldn't know what waited until it was too late.
Then he too would join their choir.