Doesn't seem like Lena reads my stories anymore, but that's okay. Am curious where Lena's off to next.

Whoa, she's in Hammerfell?? You got Hammerfell in your gameworld?? Ooh, can't wait to see where this goes...

The interplay between Lena & Geralt is charming. They do come across as bro & sis. Right? Geralt is her brother? (testing my poor memory skills...)

Wow, I love that settlement. The walls seem sort of lo-res, but this actually adds to the feeling of a different province.

Ha, they sleep on the floor! I've been in the habit of adding bedrolls into inns, in Cyrodiil, Morrowind, and Skyrim. I love seeing NPCs using them, ya know?

Bookmark

I read Laprima's story, but you are having a break on that one. I don't like Fallout... Sorry. Nothing to do with your stories, I just really don't like the post-apocalyptic setting, so won't read any stories set in that world.


TWMP Hammerfell, a TWMP version of Brendan's "Hammerfell". It fills in the Southern part, not the whole province. It is considered not lore friendly, but it is a beautiful version of Hammerfell. Plus, it's the only one that works.

Hearthfire, 4E204 - Brother

"What is it like being a pawn?" Lamond spoke softly watching Lena chase some wolves away from the campsite.

"It sucks," Scorpio replied automatically. "Immortality is a curse."

"I suppose it's worse for you..."

"What?" Scorpio pulled himself back into the moment. "Oh. It's different for us pawns, we don't even have the concept of time like normal people. Constantly being called away for duty elsewhere, then returning to the morning of the same day, having walked with another Arisen for days or weeks..."


"Sounds mind boggling," Lamond shivered.

"You get used to it... It all depends on the Arisen... She is my rock."

"I didn't turn out much of a rock for my pawn..." Lamond's voice trailed off.

"It wasn't your fault though, was it?" Scorpio looked at him. "Petrification? That kills a pawn outright."

"But I didn't bring him back."

"Giving a piece of your soul is not something people normally do," Scorpio said in a near whisper.

"Well, have you not set up the tent yet?" Lena returned to the camp. "Such as it is..."

Setting up the tent didn't take long. It wasn't much of a tent, to be quite honest, but a piece of cloth not capable of protecting even a single person from the rain.


"It is fortunate that it doesn't rain all that much in the desert," Cyril smiled when Lena once again shook her head at such an inadequate "Elite Camping Kit". "Never mind. What's for dinner? Have we any meat?"

"Deer are not abundant here either," Lena hesitated between several chunks of meat emerging from their packs. "What do you fancy - saurian tail or harpy breast?"

"Ugh..."

"Air dried venison then," she settled on a chunk of preserve instead, to everyone's relief.

They've had a good couple of days so far, fights were abundant but not too hard, and although the medusa did land a few hits on each of them, it too was soon defeated. They should have really made camp before fighting the medusa - it wasn't an easy foe to kill. But Lamond was driven to it, he vowed to go after it alone if his companions needed rest... and of course that would have been the end of him - the medusa was not to be taken lightly.

"And again I didn't manage to cut off its head," Lamond sighed when the conversation turned to it.

"How many medusae have you slain so far?" Lena looked up, wondering how long ago has it been that Lamond's pawn was petrified by a medusa.

"Not enough," Lamond replied darkly. "Nasty beasts they are..."

"But we got it, even without cutting off its head," Lena tried to cheer him up. "Even despite its magic bow."

"Which you left behind!" Lamond looked up, surprised. "Do you even know how much it's worth? A fortune, and not a small one! But most people who manage to get a medusa bow, keep it for themselves! Why didn't you?"

"It's heavy," Lena shrugged. "Way too heavy, in fact. Probably just right for a medusa, but not good for me."

"But the magic?"

"Oh, yes - it multiplies your experience. Oh come on. I've lived over two hundred years. I don't need a bow that makes me age faster than I already do!"

Everyone laughed at that, because of course years didn't have any meaning to any of them.

The conversation died down, letting the battles of the day fizzle out. After a while, Lamond broke the silence.

"It's good to have you around, sis," he said looking into the fire. "Gets me off the newt liqueur for a time..."

"I'm glad to have met you," Lena nodded. "We seem to be of the same mind... There aren't many Arisen around, and the other ones are all a bit... odd. One way or the other."

"Like they don't give a damn for the pawns," Lamond squinted at her. "That's why we are all failed Arisen. All, except you."

"You would have made it too, you know," Lena said quietly. "If your pawn hadn't perished."

"But there you have it," Lamond shook his head. "I failed my test. Forgive me, but didn't you lose yours very early on as well? But you got him back."

"I did..." Lena stared into the flames. "I just couldn't accept it... Didn't want to accept it... I'm too stubborn, I guess."

"No, I think there is more to it," Lamond looked up. "I mean, oh yes, sister, you are stubborn! And then some!" He smirked. "But that's not the point. They give you a pawn right at the start, you start building a bond, and then they lure you to some impossible task with a high probability that your pawn will be lost... Most Arisen then simply pick another, and therein lies their doom. That's my theory, anyway. My second pawn didn't have his heart in it like the first."

"You think they're setting us up?" Lena wasn't quite sure.

"They keep testing us, don't they? From one task to the next... Show the strength of your resolve over and over. Most Arisen give up somewhere along the way, but those that don't, then get their pawn taken away, all in order to break them."

"What happened to that fellow around here that is obsessed with chasing drakes?" Lena suddenly remembered another old Arisen that she met along the way. "What happened to his pawn?"

"I don't know," Lamond shrugged. "Abandoned, perhaps?"

"Abandoned," Cyril said softly. "I've heard of him."

They kept quiet for a minute, as if keeping silence in honour of the abandoned pawn. Then Lena declared the meat to be ready to eat and started slicing it.

"There's no point lamenting past mistakes," she looked at Lamond with significance. "They only hold you back."

...

Lamond was spending his days watching the steam rise from the pool at the volcanic springs on the Agamen island. His mind was wandering from one memory to the next, spurred on by the newt liqueur that somehow always made its way into his hands. Every now and again he would take up his Flamberge Zweihänder and go out into the desert of Battahl to slay monsters for their skins or to liberate treasures from bandit hideouts. And if one of those monsters was a medusa, so for the better. Unlike Sigurd who was constantly seeking out drakes, Lamond wasn't searching for the medusae, but whenever he came across one, he made it a point to slay it, preferably by cutting off its head. The severed head could then be used to petrify another victim... and Lamond's hope was that one day he would be able to petrify a medusa with another medusa's severed head. May be then he could finally consider his perished pawn vindicated.

When Lamond heard that Lena was in Battahl again, he thought that perhaps traveling together for a time would do both of them some good, especially since Lena seemed to be getting mired deeper and deeper in the mystique of the Dragon's Dogma. He didn't really mind where they were going, and Lena didn't seem to have a goal... Something had to change.

"The Flamebearer's Throne rose from the sea again, we have to go see Rothias," Lena looked at her companions in turn after another visit to the oracle. "Pointless as it seems..."

"This world goes in cycles, this is the part where you get your personal Godsbane," Scorpio nodded.

"Except this time there will be two Arisen standing before him," Lamond pointed out. "I wonder what he is going to do."

...

"You! Usurper of my throne!" Rothias was his usual charming self when they entered the shrine that kept him captive. "They keep sending minions to kill me! Well, you cannot kill me! This fight will be over before it even began!"

"Hello, Rothias, nice to see you are keeping well," Lena smirked. "You can keep your throne, I am not looking for a fight."


"Oh, it's you again," Rothias squinted - his eyesight seemed to be failing after all that time. "Here for your personal Godsbane? Have you not put the other one to use yet?"

"I have not, no," Lena shook her head. "So you are going to hand it to me again, I presume."

"Here you go." Rothias produced an ice blue sword from thin air in front of his chest, it looked as if he pulled it out of his chest, in fact...

"You made more of an effort to put on a show the first time we met," Lena laughed, stashing the Godsbane in her pack. "I guess it gets old after so many times repeating it."

"And you handled it with more reverence last time," Rothias retorted. "It's my soul, don't you know!"

"No, it's not."

"Well, may be not as such... But definitely metaphorically speaking!" He shrieked with laughter.

"You haven't changed a bit," Lamond stepped into the light. "How many of those Godsbane swords have you given out? Was it your own idea or did the Legion make you do it?"

"And who are you?" Rothias spun around to look at Lamond. "Ahhh... I remember. A failed Arisen. At least you got as far as coming to see me... at least you tried to slay your dragon... not like some... Well, what are you waiting for? You've got your Godsbane, you know what to do!"

Lamond glared and put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"No," Lena stopped him. "We don't want to fight him. He is but a ghost, you cannot kill him, and he will kill you just as surely as your personal Godsbane. It's another trap, Lamond."

Rothias laughed derisively as Lena pulled Lamond out of the circle of light and up the stairs where Scorpio and Cyril were waiting.

"Let's go," Cyril said softly to Lamond. "We have no business here."

...

"What are you going to do this time, sister?" Lamond looked at Lena when they made camp on the beach. "You know the plot. You'll take that Godsbane to Phaesus, he'll summon a drake proclaiming it to be the dragon... Then your actual dragon will appear and whisk you away some place safe to do real battle... Upon which you will not get back your heart and the cycle will restart. It's pointless, if you ask me."

"Is that why you gave up?" Lena looked up.

"I didn't have a choice, I failed to slay my dragon," Lamond reminded her. "He simply flew off... I wasn't strong enough. Or may be I didn't have my heart in it..."

"No, that's the Dragonforged," Lena shook her head. "He told me that when the dragon breathed fire at him, he just turned around and ran... His will was burned to a crisp even if his body survived."

"Mmm... Well, there are many ways to fail that test with the dragon, death included," Lamond brushed off the topic. "But you are evading my question: what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Lena sighed. "I am getting mired deeper and deeper in this story, in this world... without my heart and without a way to get back to Tamriel. I am hesitant to battle the dragon this time because it will reset the cycle... I feel somehow that this point - just before the final battle - is where I have a chance to break out, to break my personal Dragon's Dogma. I just need to figure out how to do it..."

"Grigori is the key," Scorpio said quietly. "I've seen the Black City through his eyes... Well, I've seen the gates to the Black City. I think this is where the power of the Legion resides, deep inside the Void."

"May be I should go to the fight then," Lena mused. "Grigori could take me there."

"And then what?" Scorpio shook his head. "Firstly, he is not likely to do it, and secondly, even if he does, you won't be able to fight anyone there, have no illusions. Besides, if you do that, you will die instantly since it's their magic that keeps you alive."

"So what do you propose?" Lena looked up but Scorpio didn't have an answer to give. "I am well and truly mired in it then..." Her face fell.

"There are powers bigger than the Arisen," Cyril gave her a long look. "You have to arrange yourself with them until you are strong enough to push for a change. Decide what it is that you want most, and try to find ways to achieve it."

"I want to return to Tamriel," Lena said without thinking. "I've had enough of doing the same thing over and over in the world of Dragon's Dogma... and I want Scorpio to come with me. It's time to go home."

"And your heart..?" Scorpio fixed her with her gaze, this was a significant change in attitude.

"My heart... Yes, I want it back. But now this comes second." Lena straightened her back. She suddenly realised that indeed her attitude had changed.

"Then you know what to do, sister," Lamond smiled. "It won't be easy and you may have to face Grigori for it, but you know what you want... I'll miss having you here in Battahl, but I wish you luck getting home. I'll make sure the place is not overrun with medusae, should you return some day... as I feel you will... I wish you luck finding a way."

The night fell while they were talking, with a myriad of stars looking down on them from a cloudless sky. Were the same stars looking down on Tamriel? Masser and Secunda weren't visible in Battahl, but the stars seemed to be the same. And beyond the stars stretched the endless Void, with the Black City at its centre. Somehow Lena felt that the Black City was going to be important... it seemed to be calling to her... unless she imagined it... perhaps it was just Grigori calling her to the fight... Dragons were immortal beings capable of traveling from world to world through the Void. Dragons were probably the same everywhere too, just like the stars... and Lena was Dragonborn, but what did it mean exactly? Her father was Dragonborn too... Did he too walk a path with dragons? Lena could not help but wonder what her father's life had been like, before and after his service with the Imperial Legion. He stayed away after her mother's death in the hope of sparing her a tumultuous life akin to his own. Nothing came of that of course, as Lena bore the mark of the dragon. Perhaps one day she would learn what that same mark had brought into her father's life that he was so keen to spare her. She thought of Geralt who too received a mark from their father - the mark of Hircine. "He must be off to Solstheim by now, joining the Great Hunt of our era," Lena thought. "I wonder..." Her thoughts trailed off and she relaxed gazing upon the stars.

Just came across this info. That's a good thing to consider, when they were born. Especially if we spend lots of time with our people.

Whoa, Lucien just proposed. 💐 Lena's not getting googly about this, ha ha! "Mara cannot add anything which binds us already"... very true. Because think about it. They're immortal, right? Folks who are mortal have enough problems making a relationship last through all the trials & tribulations of life, and at most, the average long-term marriage usually lasts no more than 60 years, if that. But if it's considered a couple can potentially live forever, Really??? Really, these two lovers are supposed to remain together and faithful to each other forever? Especially as dynamic as Lena Wolf is, traveling all over the place?

Of course, I'm considering the typical approach us Earthlings take to marriage, the "til death do us part" bit. Don't know how it works in Tamriel; the marriage system as portrayed in Skyrim is pretty darn vague. Open-ended. But still, what if you know you're never going to die, from natural causes?

Alright, heh, I'm rambling. But yeah, she decides to marry. There we go.

Wait though? Does Lu know Lena's already pregnant? (She's still carrying, right?)

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=340223

Well, Lena is probably immortal because of her (partial) vampirism, but she could be permanently killed with a silver weapon. Lucien is not immortal, just long lived (if he's careful at his job). His father is a Dunmer, so Lucien inherited elven longevity. His mother died long ago, at a very respectable age of 80-something... That's a long life for an Imperial!

Lena finds Mara's teachings too strict. Not suitable for real life, as you say. Lucien doesn't care much for them either, especially considering that his mother was a Priestess of Dibella... that's a whole different Divine! But with all that, he is right that Imperial Bureaucracy outranks Mara and Dibella taken together. And Lena agrees. Gosh, she had so much trouble getting herself "resurrected" after she missed the census a few times... She wasn't marked as dead since there was no evidence of that, but she was still marked as "non-living", meaning effectively dead for all administrative purposes... And it took a lot of toil and money to get that reverted back to "alive", what with all the forms needing to be delivered in triplicate, with fees in triplicate, with bribes on top! So she is taking no chances and getting married as an upstanding citizen that she is.


I would say that if you have both Mara and Dibella as Divines, with their contradictory teachings, then it is indeed pretty vague.


She is in the first half, the bump is just starting to show. Hence why Lucien decided not to wait any longer - the marriage is for the baby first and foremost. Yes, he knows that she is pregnant, in fact it was he who noticed it first (Dibella's teachings, you know). He also realises very well that there's a 50-50 chance that the child is not his. But he accepts it anyway, pledging to raise it as his own regardless. Since DNA tests were not available at the time, they won't even be certain whose child it is until he/she grows up a bit.

So yes, they are not getting married for Mara. It is for the Imperial Archives.

I see. Thanks for answers.



Indeed. Bethesda likes to keep things vague, and my opinion is it's good they don't fill in all the blanks.

Morning Star, 3E387 - Come in, Agent

"Come in, Agent." The Legate waved his hand at a youngish Legion officer who just opened the door to his room. "Dispense with formalities. Come and sit down."

The Agent entered and closed the door behind him, but still remained rather stiff - he wasn't used to dispensing with formalities in the presence of his superior officers, and it didn't get much more superior than the Legate behind a large desk of Imperial oak. The Legate noticed this and smirked, pointing at a chair on the other side of the desk.

"Sit down. I have a mission for you." He busied himself with some books and scrolls on his desk, taking his eyes off the Agent, trying to put him at ease.

When the Agent finally sat down, the Legate unrolled a scroll in front of him so that the Agent could see some of the writing.

"Agent Wolf Asgarsen of the Second Imperial Legion," the Legate fixed the Agent with his gaze and the Agent instantly straightened his back. "You have a good record, I have it right here," the Legate pointed at the scroll. "Diligent and dutiful, without reproach, skilled with your weapons and ruthless when need be - these are the qualities we are looking for. And there's more - you are Dragonborn. How did you find out?"

"We came upon a word wall in the depths of a crypt, and I could read it. I don't know how, I just could. Then I could throw that thu'um without practice. It was weak, but I could do it."

The Agent spoke in a terse tone, unsure why his peculiar heritage was important. The thu'ums that he read off word walls were neither strong nor unusual - other people could learn them too, albeit after a lengthy practice. Neither Skyrim nor the entire Tamriel had any dragons, so these remnants of their language became little more than a curious relic.

"You have never seen a dragon, never consumed a dragon soul..." The Legate was watching the Agent, nodding to his thoughts. "But the word walls prove it. You have the mark. That is why you have been chosen for this mission. What do you know of Ferelden?"

It was an unexpected question, but the Agent did not hesitate.

"It is a kingdom on the continent of Thedas on the other side of the Great Ocean," he answered from memory. "They are often at war with their neighbours - the kingdoms of Orlais and Tevinter..."

"Yes, yes," the Legate nodded, interrupting. "That they are, but they keep it between themselves. What the Emperor worries about is the Blight."

"That it might spill over to Tamriel?" The Agent's brow furrowed. "If I understand it correctly, it is a calamity when hordes of undead overrun the land, killing everything and everyone on it." He shuddered involuntarily.

"Quite." The Legate shuffled some scrolls out of the way, picking up an old book from under them. "This tome has some more details, but essentially you are correct." He handed the book to the Agent. "A true Blight is much more deadly than a mere uprising of undead because a Blight is an organised force, an army rather than a mindless mob, led by an Archdemon who is a dragon."

"Ah!"

"Indeed." The Legate sighed gravely. "We have reports of unusually heavy fighting in Ferelden, fighting against the undead, not against the Orlaisian or Tevinter neighbours for once... It looks like it may be the beginning of a real Blight. If so, the Emperor is naturally worried."

"I see."

"There is an order of battlemages there - they call themselves the Grey Wardens. They spend their lives fighting the undead, keeping them at bay. You are to join them."

"Understood."

"Hmm... I don't think you understand it yet, Agent." The Legate's glance darkened. "They are not mere battlemages. They bear the mark of the Archdemon - of the dragon. Yet they are not Dragonborn, they gain that mark in a joining ceremony. It infects them with the blight, making them into the very undead they are fighting... if they live long enough. It takes some fifty years to develop. If you are to join them, you too will receive such a mark."

The Agent straightened his already straight back and answered evenly.

"But we need information, do we not?" He looked straight at the Legate. "If there is a way to protect Tamriel from the Blight, we need to know about it. I understand."

"We hope that you being Dragonborn, may fare better than an average person," the Legate continued in a softer tone. "For one, we are almost certain you will survive the joining ritual... oh yes, it is quite deadly. Only every third or every fourth recruit survives it..."

The Agent was listening without fear. Something told him that not only would he survive, but he would go far in that world as well, all the way to the Archdemon.

"...all the way to the Black City," he said under his breath, then caught himself, realising that he said it aloud.

"You have been hearing his voice already," the Legate nodded. "You are not going mad. The Archdemon talks to all those who bear the mark of the dragon... and that includes the undead, the Grey Wardens and the Dragonborn, that is you." He paused contemplating the Agent before him. "And so it is a true Blight indeed."

"What are my orders?" The Agent preferred a practical approach.

"Learn what you can, help them stop it, if that's in your power," the Legate sat back in his chair. "It is an open mission - use your judgement. Each Dragonborn throughout history has had a reason for bearing that mark, and fighting this Blight with the Grey Wardens seems to be yours. Things are dire in Ferelden just now, with local politics overshadowing the much greater danger of the rising Blight. You will swing the scales for the Grey Wardens."




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This chapter follows Lena's father, Wolf Asgarsen. He is being sent to Ferelden to stem the tide of the Blight. This is Dragon Age Origins.

Interesting start. The Legate appears to be very knowledgeable about Ferelden, the Grey Wardens, and the Blight. I wonder how many agents were lost acquiring that tome.

Indeed! The Empire has been watching the Blight in Thedas for a long time... And perhaps if they had not been, then the events of 3E405 in Daggerfall would have been so much more devastating...

Sun's Dawn, 3E387 - Ostagar

"Just how many varieties of undead do they have there?" Agent Wolf Asgarsen was studying the old tome that the Legate gave him in preparation for his mission in Ferelden. The trip would take a month or two, and as long as the sea was not too rough, he could keep his mind off his stomach by focusing on the book. "They all seem to be some sort of zombies," he decided. "Rotting flesh, black blood... They call them 'darkspawn' because of that - very apt indeed! Ugh, you are ugly!"


The illustrations were graphic enough to make Wolf's stomach turn even on calm seas, yet he had to learn about these creatures. Not only did they come in different sizes, but they also possessed different skills and were organised in units with a commanding structure. At the very top stood the Archdemon - a dragon.

"Armed and armoured zombies that can also cast magic and possess superior constitution and strength." Wolf shut the book with a thump. "Lovely. With a dragon to lead them, a dragon that talks to me in my sleep! Why, I feel right at home already."

The Legate had instructed Wolf to make his way to Ostagar, a place that used to be a village, but had since become a central point for the fight against the Blight. This was because Ostagar lay at the Southern border of the civilised world - beyond it was nothing but wilderness.

"We don't normally sail that far South in the Frozen Sea," the captain bent over the map with Wolf. "But the Legion is very persuasive. We shall make a detour and drop you off here," he tapped the map. "The Eastern edge of the Korcari Wilds, just where it meets with the Brecilian Forest... A wilder place would be hard to find," he smirked. "It's not darkspawn you need to worry about there, it's the apostate mages, werewolves, elves and of course the Witch of the Wilds." The captain nodded to himself. "Ostagar is not too far inland, perhaps a day on foot. Provided you don't run into anything..." He grinned and got up to leave.

"Apostate mages, werewolves, elves and the Witch," Wolf repeated to himself, opening his tome again to look up all of that and to try to understand how the elves, a whole people, ended up in such company. And who was that Witch deserving of a special mention?

The matter of elves was easily clarified: humans despised them, and the elves reciprocated, and yet they did not rebel, they somehow simply accepted their fate of being sold into slavery or made into servants if they were lucky. Just one tribe lived in freedom, inhabiting the Brecilian Forest, and they shot humans on sight.

The tome had a short paragraph on apostate mages - those were mages who refused to be locked away in a tower with templars watching their every move. Magic was not illegal in Ferelden, but it was illegal to be a mage and not to be locked up in that tower. Mages were not permitted to live freely, to have a gift of magic meant to be imprisoned for life. Magic was seen as dangerous, mages as inherently unreliable and untrustworthy, and locking them away was considered the only way to keep the rest of the society safe. Why was that? The Chantry insisted that it were mages who created darkspawn, who created the Blight. Not by intent, but by callously poking their noses into matters they did not understand. Such curiosity was a danger to all.

Wolf smirked reading about this doctrine. Of course, the reality was much more complex than that. He did not believe that mages, powerful as they might be, were capable of reaching out into the Void itself and bringing the Void into Mundus - for that was in essence what the Chantry was saying. He felt that the repression of mages was going to explode into everyone's faces sooner or later, but may be just like the elves, the mages were still accepting their fate for now.

The tome had no information on werewolves or the Witch of the Wilds, and Wolf figured that werewolves were probably the same as in Tamriel, and the Witch... well, he would just have to see for himself about that. The captain lent him a few books of old tales and legends, and a few pamphlets for King and Country, and by the time the ship reached the shores of Ferelden, Wolf felt that he'd learned everything he could learn from books and was ready to step out into this new world and join the turmoil.

...

Ostagar was indeed not too far from the coast. Wolf moved through the forest watching for wild animals and avoiding every and all encounter - his goal was not to die on his first day in Ferelden. He arrived without incident and went looking for Duncan - the man in charge of the Grey Wardens that was supposed to be expecting him.

"Welcome," Duncan did expect him. "I received word that a worthy recruit from overseas would be joining us," he smiled. "That must be you. It is good to have a seasoned warrior join us for once, we often get beginners and have to train them up first. But there is no time now - this camp, this gathering of troops is here to fight a horde of darkspawn... You are informed of that, I trust?" He squinted, and Wolf smiled.

"I am," he nodded. "I also know that it isn't just a horde. I've had word..."

"Ah!" Duncan's face cleared. "Your Legate did mention that the recruit they were sending was no ordinary soldier. You have to tell me about this later, this is remarkable indeed! Normally only those that have gone through the Joining can hear the Archdemon... Well, well!"

The camp was buzzing with activity around them, people were running, shouting, arguing, lamenting, praying, laughing - all at once. Dogs were barking loudly, some appeared to be in distress.

"We've had heavy fighting here already," Duncan turned towards the kennels. "The hounds get infected with the Blight when they bite darkspawn. It gives them much pain and is deadly unless treated. Of course we try to treat it as quickly as we can. In fact..." He stopped talking for a moment, listening to the barking and the howls from the dogs. "Well, why not. You will need to go into the woods - into the Korcari Wilds, you and the other recruits, to get darkspawn blood for the Joining Ritual. I believe the kennel master is running out of herbs to treat the dogs, so why don't you ask him what he needs and see if you can find some. It may be a small thing, but it will give you a start in learning our flora... for if you wish to survive, you will need to make your own medicine here."

Wolf nodded, it made a lot of sense. This new land had its own plants, and he had to learn that too, better sooner than later. He went to see the kennels master.

"Going into the Wilds are you?" The master was keeping the gate shut firmly behind him. "The dogs are restless, many are in pain from the darkspawn. We are running out of herbs, too... So yeah, white flowers, tall stems, quite striking - the others will show you. Bring as many as you can..." One dog kept pushing the gate behind the kennel master and finally got its head through. "Oh, get back, you!" The master spun around trying to push the dog back, but the dog was having none of it.

"He really wants to get out," Wolf laughed and knelt, coming level with the dog. "Hello, fellow," he smiled and the dog sat before him and stopped barking.

"Why, I never..." the kennel master stopped too, watching in surprise. "These are Mabari hounds, they bond with their master for life. This one just lost his master in a battle a few days ago... this would often mean the death of the dog as well... they just never bond with anyone else again. Usually. Except now. Why, I think you just got yourself a dog!"

"I'll go into the woods and get you herbs," Wolf said to the dog. "You stay here for now and behave yourself. Got it?"

The dog gave a little whine, a wag of his tail, got up and returned into the kennels enclosure without any fuss or complaint.

"He will need a day or two longer to recover from that fight," the kennels master turned to Wolf. "I am glad, really. I hate to see these powerful beasts wither and die of grief for their fallen masters..."

...

"Ah, you must be the other new recruit!" A young blond warrior spoke quite loudly behind Wolf, making Wolf spin around on the spot. "Armour of a foreign make, Duncan did say you'd be from overseas. Well, all right, let's get going!" He turned and started to walk, then changed his mind. "Erm... you do speak our language, don't you? Language? You... un-der-stand me?"

"I understand you," Wolf replied with an amplified Nord accent. "But who are you? Because you obviously know who I am."

"Oh," the fellow blushed. "I didn't introduce myself, did I? Err... Sorry... I'm Alistair. I am to lead you on our outing into the Wilds... Did Duncan mention that? To get darkspawn blood?" Alistair was blushing even more, realising that he was a good deal younger than Wolf.

"Yes, Duncan did mention that," Wolf nodded. "Lead on, Alistair."

"Right, let's get the other recruits... follow me!" Alistair recovered from his embarrassment and sprinted towards a small group that appeared to be waiting for him.

"Are we all assembled? Can we go now?" A recruit in a costly shining armour wielding a brand new greatsword drew himself up. "Is it just the three of us?"

"The four of us," Alistair corrected him. "I am coming too. You did mean me, right..?" He blushed again, interrupting himself.

Wolf thought: "His first time in command. I wonder why they didn't send a more senior Grey Warden?"

"They didn't send anyone more senior than me because there is no one more senior than me here, apart from Duncan," Alistair seemed to have read his mind. "There are no other Grey Wardens here at all, in fact. But there will be, once you've gone through the Joining!" He added happily, but with a shadow lurking behind his smile. "But worry not, I shall suffice..."

He waved his hand, turned and started walking briskly towards the gate to the Korcari Wilds, with his three recruits following.

"I am not so sure about this," the knight in shining armour leveled with Wolf. "You look like an experienced warrior. Should you not lead us instead? I don't know if that pup is up to the task..."

"This pup has excellent hearing," Alistair spun around. "You will have to follow me now, I am afraid, because I am the only Grey Warden in our group, and thus the only one who can sense the darkspawn approach. Pup or no pup... but there is no substitute for me just yet."

Wolf smiled but said nothing. Alistair was young and inexperienced, and still tripped over his own feet, so to say, but he had the spark, Wolf thought. And so he did not mention that he too could sense the darkspawn approach, even though he had not gone through the Joining yet... In fact, several darkspawn were close... very close...

Alistair tensed, drawing his sword. "Get ready! Here they come!"

"What? Where..?" The knight was jerking his head left and right, while the third recruit, a rogue by the look of things, drew his long daggers and crouched.

"Here!!!" Wolf bellowed, planting his axe into a stump rising from the ground. Alistair smirked and proceeded slashing another stump, the rogue caught on and sliced up another one into ribbons... the darkspawn were rising from below ground.

"What?! Stand up and fight!!" The knight finally spotted one that rose up to the waist already.

"Hit him!!!" Alistair screamed, busy with an adversary of his own.

"No, there is no honour in that! I have to wait until he emerges and stands against me!"

"No, you don't!!!"

A few more hits from Wolf's axe, another twirl of the rogue's daggers, and this small group of darkspawn was defeated.

"You really don't have to wait for them to fully emerge," Alistair was collecting some blood from one of the corpses. "You don't really want them to fight back."

"But there's no honour in that!" The knight protested. "I am only joining for the honour!"

"Hmm..." Alistair was about to say something, but Wolf touched his arm - leave it.

"I don't think that this darkspawn cares much for honour," he turned to the knight. "Have you been in many battles? Your armour looks pristine."

"I... well, no," the knight smiled. "I just got married... got a young wife and a child on the way... I am soon to take over from my father, I'll be in the Landsmeet... Joining the Grey Wardens is just an extra honour. And I can fight, I assure you! I won many tournaments, year after year!"

"Err..." Alistair faced him. "Grey Wardens have to give up their prior lives, you know," he said softly. "You can still see your wife, of course, from time to time... but the Landsmeet... I don't think so."

"Oh." The knight looked really disappointed. "Duncan mentioned it, but I thought he was just saying it for the form... Well, I think I won't go through with it then."

"Umm..."

"Let us focus on what we are here for," Wolf interrupted another revelation from Alistair. "You'll have to discuss it with Duncan when we return."

Everyone agreed and prepared to enter the Korcari Wilds proper.

So Agent Wolf is recruited from Skyland for his dragonborniness and sets off to a new land to contract some likely deadly disease and fight some seriously scary undead. What could go wrong?

What a waste and potential loss of combat power to enslave elves and lock up mages!

I chuckled over the pristine knight, as the small herb and undead hunting party got down to business. I'm sure the darkspawn probably don't fight by tournament rules.

At least Wolf may have himself a loyal dog waiting for when/if he returns.

Acadian - indeed, tournament is out with this darkspawn, methinks. But dragons are the same everywhere, are they not? Agent Wolf has never seen a dragon before, so he would not know, but he might sense it. The Legate thought so. Hmm... he's got a long road ahead.

Sun’s Dawn, 3E387 – The last of Grey Wardens

The foray into the Korcari Wilds was successful. Alistair proved true to his word and was able to warn Grey Warden recruits of approaching darkspawn, even though the darkspawn rose from under the earth. Wolf could sense them too, every time without fail... He found it most unpleasant.

One other thing that they had to do in the Wilds was to retrieve ancient Grey Warden treaties from a magically sealed chest in an old ruin. That fortress wasn't a ruin when the treaties were stored there - it was centuries ago, and it was one of the Grey Warden strongholds... one of many, at the time. At present no Grey Warden strongholds remained in Ferelden. Although darkspawn incursions never seized, there hadn't been a true Blight for centuries - four, five hundred years, perhaps. People had grown complacent, and although the Grey Wardens had not disappeared, their ranks dwindled and their strongholds fell, either to wilderness or to fellow men who found "better" uses for them. The stronghold in the Korcari Wilds fell to ruin simply because no one set foot into it for several hundred years. Nature took it back into its fold.

They found the ruin without much difficulty, and in it they found an ornate chest... utterly destroyed. Every bandit and every adventurer would have been interested in a chest like that, expecting to find great treasures within. Eventually someone broke the magical seal, or perhaps it simply wore off. And, undoubtedly, some adventurer found a pack of old scrolls and used them to light a fire...

"The Grey Wardens should have never left those treaties in a disused tower like this!" The knight in their party shook his head, and for once everyone agreed. "Of course, all is lost now."

"Well, well, who have we here?" A young woman in an eccentric dress stepped out from behind a column, a home-made staff at her back. "A scavenger or an intruder, I wonder?"


"She's a witch, she is!" The knight was quick to comment. "Best not cross her..."

"Now, there's a smart lad," the woman smirked. "What of the rest of you? I've followed your progress for some time... Where are they going, I wondered, what are they here for? Hmm?" She rested her eyes on each member of the Grey Warden party, and each felt her probing gaze.

"We are here to retrieve something that belongs to us," Alistair cleared his throat and said in a would-be authoritative tone. "Except that the chest is destroyed and the contents gone..." He added with hesitation.

"Grey Warden treaties," the woman nodded. "That magical seal had worn off ages ago. You should have come for them sooner."

"So you stole them!" Alistair nearly screamed. "Return them at once!"

Wolf turned away, hiding a smile - Alistair resembled a toddler demanding his favourite toy... The woman smiled openly and answered with a little laugh.

"I shall not return them, for it wasn't I who took them in the first place!"

"You didn't? Then who was it?" Alistair's tone became more neutral, but still carried some impatient irritation in it.

"It was my mother, in fact," the woman said simply.

"Then take us to her!" Alistair said impatiently and Wolf could just picture him stomp his foot as well.

"Do you think it's wise?" The third recruit finally opened his mouth. "She's the Witch of the Wild, she is! She'll stick us in a pot or turn into toads!"

"If that pot is warmer than this forest, then I'm all for it!" The knight was indeed shivering in his armour and the steel parts started clattering against each other.

"But what of you, hmm?" The woman looked at Wolf. "You haven't said anything so far. What are you - a scavenger or an intruder?"

"A scavenger, I guess, given those choices," Wolf smiled at her. "I am Wolf."

"Ah, manners at last!" The woman smiled. "And I am Morrigan. Come, I shall take you to my mother, for she has your treaties."

It was only a short walk, and the saw a hut among the trees and an older woman standing before it. She was dressed quite plainly and didn't carry a staff, and yet everyone instantly knew that if there was a Witch of the Wild among them, it was she. The knight and the rogue swallowed hard, Alistair straightened his back, but Wolf relaxed and smiled. He could not explain it, but he felt an instant kinship to the old woman. He smiled and greeted her politely, before Alistair could say something they would all regret. He seemed to have an animosity towards mages, even "tame" and "regularised" mages back at the camp, and certainly these "wild witches" standing before them... What was it they called such mages? Apostates, Wolf recalled. Mages that refused to be locked up in a tower. Quite.

"We should not be talking to apostates," Alistair said through his teeth to no one in particular. "Do you have our treaties?" He stared at the old woman with open hostility.

"I do indeed," she nodded, smirking at his attitude, apparently not offended but rather amused by it. "Your magical seal wore off centuries ago, I was keeping them safe for you." She produced the treaties from a simple chest just behind her and handed them to Alistair. "Here you are, Grey Warden."

"So... the seal wore off... and you've been keeping them safe... for centuries..?" Alistair's tone lost all hostility as he looked through old scrolls, intact and still readable. "But who are you?"

"An apostate mage," the old woman laughed. "The one you shouldn't accept help from."

"Oh." Alistair blushed. "Point taken... Thank you. But might not we know your name?"

The change of tone was so striking, that both women gave a short laugh, while the knight and the rogue swallowed hard - again. Perhaps they thought that Alistair feared the Witch, whichever woman it was, if not both.

"The folk here call me Flemeth," the old woman replied.

"THE Flemeth..?" Alistair took a step back. "But then you are the Witch of the Wilds!"

Wolf was looking at Flemeth and Alistair and wondering what turned Alistair's hostility into outright panic and fear. He could sense that Flemeth was a powerful mage, but that wasn't it... there was more... there had to be more... The captain of his ship mentioned the Witch of the Wilds, and now apparently she stood before him. He shook his head - now was not the time.

"Thank you, Flemeth," he said. "Thank you for safeguarding these treaties for us. We should be going now." He looked at Alistair who nodded vigorously along with the other recruits.

...

"Did you get enough darkspawn blood?" Duncan met them back at the camp. "Then let us proceed with the Joining."

The Joining ceremony was simple and solemn. All they had to do was drink darkspawn blood that they had collected.

"All Grey Wardens give their lives to fight the darkspawn," Duncan said gravely. "Some of us give their lives sooner rather than later though. Not all survive the Joining. But this is the price we pay for becoming what we are. Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn because drinking darkspawn blood marks us with their taint. This gives us the very advantage that allows us to defeat them. And this is why Grey Wardens must leave their prior lives behind. From this moment on your life consists of battling darkspawn."

He paused and looked at the three recruits before him. No one spoke.

"You first, Daveth," Duncan handed the Joining Cup to their rogue. "Good luck."

Daveth drank. When darkspawn blood mixed with his own, his eyes became deadly white, he screamed and collapsed on the ground. His convulsions continued for a few moments, and then he was dead.

"I am sorry, Daveth," Duncan knelt before him. "You gave your life sooner rather than later."

"What?!" The knight took a step back in disgust and fear. "No! There is no glory in this! No! I refuse!" He took up his greatsword, although no one was attacking him. "I shall not drink that!"

"There is no turning back, Jori," Duncan put down the cup he was preparing and turned to the knight. "You've come too far." He looked stern, his voice was as hard as steel. He dropped the knight's title, not calling him "Sir Jori", Wolf noticed. Indeed, those were not the actions of a knight.

Jori started swinging his greatsword, and Wolf and Alistair stepped back. Duncan stepped forward, unsheathing one of his long daggers. Another step, then a quick lunge while Jori's greatsword was out of the way... Wolf watched and nodded: "A dagger through the heart while the knight is doing a tournament twirl," he thought. "Grey Wardens fight to win."

"I am sorry, Jori," Duncan stood over Jori's corpse. "I am sorry it came to this." Then he turned to Wolf, looking into his face, but said nothing - he could read his answer. Duncan nodded and prepared a fresh Joining Cup for Wolf. "Your turn, Wolf. Good luck."

Wolf drank from the cup. The blood tasted bitter and dead somehow. He thought it was only logical, considering that it was in fact dead...

...

"Ahhh, you come to join me," a dragon towered over Wolf. "Welcome, Dragonborn. We meet at last! Come, partake of our feast - fresh humans are on the menu..."

Wolf sat up. He had been lying on a wide natural stone bridge in a huge cavern. Fires were burning everywhere, the dragon was perched on the edge of a cliffside nearby. A sea of smaller fires was below them, far as the eye could see, seemingly without end. Wolf looked closer. Those were torches and braziers illuminating long, narrow tables laden with meat. Darkspawn of all ranks and sizes were gathered around them, standing and sitting, devouring the meat. Human flesh. That is why there were rarely corpses left behind after a battle with darkspawn.

...

"He will live." Duncan knelt over Wolf convulsing on the ground. "You just wait," he looked up at Alistair who was shaking his head. "This recruit will become a Grey Warden."

A few minutes later Wolf opened his eyes. His dream ended as suddenly as it began.

"Welcome, Grey Warden," Duncan smiled at him. "You've met the Archdemon, have you not? And he did not try to slay you... Interesting... You'll need to tell me about that later. After the battle."

A loud bark interrupted him and a lively Mabari dog put his paws on Wolf's chest.

"Hello, fellow," Wolf smiled. "Did the kennel master give you leave?" He looked sternly at the dog and the dog cocked his head with a little guilty whine. "Almost, eh?" Wolf smirked. "Alright then, we should best go see him then."


"What are you going to call him?" Alistair cautiously petted the dog and didn't have his hand bitten off.

"Bob," Wolf answered before he even knew what he was saying. "He wants to be called Bob."

"Is that so?" Alistair looked at Bob with a hint of envy. "They do say that the Mabari hounds are smart enough to understand all we're saying and wise enough not to speak."

"Which cannot be said about you, Alistair," Duncan laughed. "Come on. We have strategy to discuss - darkspawn awaits!"

...

The strategy was being presented by the King's general Loghain. The plan was quite simple: the forward force led by the King and the Grey Wardens would engage the darkspawn horde in a narrow impasse, then Loghain's much larger army would attack darkspawn at their flank, thus felling as many of them as possible without taking damage. It did mean that the forward force would likely be fully slaughtered, but the King didn't think it probable. Duncan had his doubts but didn't have a say in the matter.

"Someone will need to light the beacon to let us know when to attack," Loghain finished relating his plan. "The beacon on the tower of Ishal," he pointed at a tall tower some distance away. "We shall be waiting nearby."

"So then lighting the beacon in time is a critical mission," the King nodded. "We should send our best - Alistair and the new Grey Warden. I am sorry we didn't have a chance to get acquainted," he looked at Wolf and smiled. "But there will be plenty of time for that during the celebrations after the battle."

"You seem so certain, Your Majesty," Duncan coughed and looked away.

"But of course!" The King laughed, his guilded armour reflecting the fires. "I have the mighty Grey Wardens at my side! What could possibly go wrong? Besides, I am not even convinced it's a true Blight! There's plenty of darkspawn about, but I've seen no sign of the Archdemon..."

"Disappointed, Your Majesty?" Duncan's eyes grew dark.

"Oh, I suppose this will have to do..." The King shrugged. "All right, let's get ready - the party awaits!"

...

"I thought there were no other Grey Wardens in the camp?" Wolf turned to Alistair when they were on the way to the tower. "But the King spoke as if he had an army of them..."

"There's Duncan," Alistair frowned. "And three more Grey Wardens arrived last night. That's the army."

"Then I suppose we should get to the tower, light the beacon and join the battle as soon as we can." Wolf hastened his step and Alistair gladly followed.

When they got to the tower, they found it overrun by darkspawn, even though Loghain's forces were supposed to keep it clear.

"I don't like this," Wolf shot a glance at Alistair and got a glance back.

They pressed on, fighting darkspawn on every floor. They got to the top and lit the beacon. From there they had a perfect view of the battle below. The sea of darkspawn pouring into the impasse with the King's forward force wedge in it. Loghain's army waiting for the signal. Ah, they'd seen it. Now the tide of the battle would turn.

"Sound the retreat!!!" The wind carried Loghain's command up to the top of the tower. The army turned around and marched off. A fresh wave of darkspawn stormed the tower. There was no sight of the Archdemon, but he would be there at the celebrations afterwards, no doubt. Two Grey Wardens and a Mabari hound could not defeat endless waves of darkspawn coming at them.

"This was a rather short mission," Wolf thought, realising that the arrow in his neck had nicked an artery. "Some Dragonborn I turned out to be..."

I think Morrigan and her mom were right. The Gray Wardens shouldn’t have left those treaties to only a warded chest. Happily, the witches readily surrender them.

The Joining is tough! Too bad about the rogue. The knight. . . not so much. And Wolf makes it.

Uh-oh, the end of this episode does not sound hopeful at all. Perhaps those wild witches will intervene again?

Yes, going through that tower, defeating all that darkspawn, lighting the beacon, and then watching the cinematic of getting an arrow in the neck and dying... well... that was rather anti-climatic. Very impressive though. And yes, you guessed right, the story doesn't actually end there, against all odds.

Sun’s Dawn, 3E387 – Kinship of the dragon

"Ah, you are finally awake!" Morrigan turned around when she heard Wolf sit up in his bed. "A bit pale from the loss of blood, but awake... Mother was right, you're made of strong stuff. Your friend too. You Grey Wardens do live up to your reputation."

Wolf wanted to object that he only became a Grey Warden the day before and couldn't take the credit... Then the memories of the big battle in Ostagar, Loghain's betrayal and all the darkspawn rose before his eyes. He remembered an arrow in the neck, too. But how could they possibly be saved? There was no way out! Darkspawn was everywhere, and the King with his small forward force must be dead... The King, Duncan, the other Grey Wardens, and every soldier in that force...

"We've been betrayed," said Wolf grimly.

"Indeed." Morrigan was watching him. "Your friend is not taking it well."

"My friend?" Wolf was momentarily confused, this whole thing was still very new to him. "Oh, you mean Alistair? Yeah, that figures... I better go see him." He made an effort to get up, but had to sit down again because the loss of blood made him very light-headed. "In a minute," he smiled. "Tell me what happened... err... not about the battle - I remember that part. How is it possible that we were saved?"

"Ah, yes, well, mother does have a trick or two up her sleeve," Morrigan laughed. "She turned into a giant bird, flew to the top of that tower and plucked you and your friend from the floor, one in each talon. And if you don't believe this explanation, then you're welcome to ask her yourself." Morrigan pouted her lips, and Wolf thought that she suddenly looked like a little girl.

"Oh, I believe it," Wolf laughed. "With a small correction - she didn't turn into a bird, she turned into a dragon."

"What..? How..?" Morrigan stood aghast.

"How I knew? I didn't, but you just told me," Wolf smiled. "I am Dragonborn. I felt kinship to your mother the moment I saw her when we came looking for treaties. I do not feel kinship to every chicken I eat, so if you say she turned into a bird, you mean she turned into a dragon. You probably can shape-shift as well, being her daughter... Although not into a dragon form, or I would have felt it. How am I doing so far?" He grinned.

"Very well indeed!" Morrigan beamed at him. "You are different from your friend... err... the dim-witted one... the other Grey Warden," she struggled to describe Alistair, for some reason avoiding calling him by name. "I heard you just only joined Grey Wardens a week ago... Oh, yes, it's been a week..."

"Alistair has a thing against mages, I don't understand it," Wolf shook his head. "A week? That's a long time to have your ear talked off... Apparently, he felt some special connection to Duncan, beyond the fact that the was a senior Grey Warden... I dunno. But I would not be surprised if he's grieving. He's still young... Don't be too hard on him."

"Well, I am still young too." Morrigan answered with defiance. "Yet I don't behave like a child."

"Not all the time, no," Wolf laughed. "Oh, lay off him, will you? Anyway, I should go find him and we'll be out of your hair in no time." He finally managed to get up, overcoming light-headedness. "I don't suppose your mother managed to rescue a dog as well, did she? Bob was a welcome friend..."

"We do have a mangy Mabari hanging around here, I suppose it's him," Morrigan squinted. "Bob? Yeah, whatever. As long as you take him with you when you leave."

...

"Can you believe what Loghain did? Betray us like that? Betray the King? What are we to do now???" Alistair poured a flood of laments over Wolf by way of greeting. "Oh, and good to see you awake, by the way. You lost so much blood, I didn't think you'd survive. But these... witches... well, they kept pouring potions into you... and look at that... you're actually alive."

"Yes, they nursed me back to life," Wolf nodded. "I should thank them properly. Without these - ah - witches, we would be dead, Alistair."

Alistair was still muttering something under his breath when Wolf approached Flemeth who was stirring stew over the fire.

"Thank you for rescuing us, Flemeth," he said with a little bow. "And thank you and Morrigan for nursing us back to life afterwards. Alistair too. Forgive his ranting, please, he is grieving."

"I did what had to be done, but you are welcome," Flemeth straightened her back. "You are Dragonborn. You can make a difference here, and you must make a difference here. Alistair... well, he is a Grey Warden, so he'll help. I could save two, so I saved you both. You must rise against the Blight."

"Two Grey Wardens cannot rise against the Blight!" Alistair caught up with them, and either didn't hear or didn't understand Flemeth's remark about Wolf being Dragonborn. "You are expecting too much of us... With the King's army lost... with Loghain's betrayal and all the politics of it... The Blight will swallow us, and we have nothing to oppose it."

"Two Grey Wardens cannot rise against the Blight," Flemeth repeated with a nod. "But two Grey Wardens can and must raise an army with which to rise against the Blight. That was exactly why I was looking after those treaties for you. The dwarves, the elves, the mages, some of the nobility too... didn't they all pledge their aid in times of the Blight? And yes, you do have politics to contend with as well, but what else is new? Since the Archdemon won your grand battle at Ostagar, he will take some time to regroup before the next decisive march, and you must use that time to build an army... Because if you don't, all will perish... You are a Grey Warden, you know how it goes."

Alistair wanted to object, perhaps simply for the sake of contradicting a mage, but then he saw the sense in Flemeth's words.

"We should try at least," he said grimly. "Two Grey Wardens... I just can't believe it... without Duncan..." His voice trailed off and he turned away, and Wolf thought that it was definitely more than simple grief for the loss of a senior Warden.

"We should be going, thank you again for all your help," Wolf turned to Flemeth again. "We'll do our best."

"There is something else I can give you," Flemeth looked at Morrigan. "The most precious thing I have... not a thing at all, in fact... my daughter. Take Morrigan with you, Warden."

"Take me... what?!" Morrigan spun around to face her mother. "Just like that? Without a warning? Don't I get a say in this? And I'm not ready..!"

"You must be ready, girl," Flemeth shook her head. "You've been itching to get out of the woods for ages. They need your help. They don't know it yet, but without one of us, without you, they will surely fail. You know why."

"I... I know why," Morrigan nodded. "Very well..."

"Wait - what?!" Alistair finally realised what was happening. "Take her along? That witch?! No! I'm sure we can manage just fine on our own!"

"Now, Warden..." Flemeth looked sternly at him and Morrigan was about to fly into a rage.

"Morrigan comes with us, and that's final." Wolf said firmly and loudly, making everyone stare at him. Flemeth smiled, Morrigan raised an eyebrow, and Alistair shook his head, looking dejected. "Unless you wish to lead, Alistair?"

"I..? No!" Alistair shook his head so vigorously, he risked damaging his neck. "I would not know where to start even... I'd make a horrible leader... You lead... Morrigan comes with us... alright, I'll accept it."

With matters thus settled, Wolf, Alistair, Morrigan and Bob the Mabari hound said their goodbyes to Flemeth and set off towards the nearest village outside the woods.

...

The village of Lothering was overrun with refugees fleeing the darkspawn. Our party tried to help them where they could, donating coin, medicine and supplies in exchange for rumours and various titbits of information. They picked up two new members for their party as well - a lay sister of the Chantry who could fight "like an Archdemon", and a Qunari mercenary who was imprisoned for murder.

Qunari were a race of giants, or rather a race of tall and wide-shouldered people, about a head taller than humans. Wolf didn't think that qualified as "giants", but people did tend to exaggerate. The Qunari generally despised humans and elves both, and doubly despised dwarves, which went some way of explaining why no one was particularly welcoming towards them. It remained unclear what that lone Qunari mercenary was doing in a human village, and Wolf thought that perhaps he had been a scout for the Qunari army posing as a mercenary. Whatever the reason, he had murdered a farmer and his family, and was now locked up in a cage without food or water. "I leave him to the mercy and judgement of the Maker," the Reverend Mother had said, and Wolf thought that it was an exceptionally cruel thing to do to leave someone to die of hunger and thirst or to be slaughtered by darkspawn, whichever came first. However, after a small "donation" of thirty silvers towards the Chantry fund, the Reverend Mother was willing to part with the key to Sten's cage, proclaiming it to be the Will of the Maker that the Wardens should take Sten into their custody. Wolf shook his head, but didn't argue, pinching Morrigan to keep her mouth shut as well. Sten was suspicious of being released at first, but when he learned that he would be going against the Blight with the Grey Wardens, he joined them willingly, considering it a worthy cause.

As our party walked into the local tavern, they were attacked by a group of mercenaries wanting their heads. It transpired that General Loghain had named himself the King Regent of Ferelden, and in his version of events of the battle at Ostagar, it were the Grey Wardens who betrayed the King which led to the King's demise. He therefore declared all Grey Wardens to be traitors to the land and offered a generous reward per head.

A fight in a crowded tavern was messy but short, and soon the mercenaries were begging for mercy. They weren't some random mercenaries after all... They were Loghain's men, specifically instructed to seek out the two remaining Grey Wardens - Wolf and Alistair, and kill them. Loghain's plan had been of course to have them perish in the tower with the beacon, but knowing how resourceful Grey Wardens usually were, he was taking no chances until the bodies of Wolf and Alistair were found or until their heads were decorating the spikes in front of Loghain's mansion. Thus things turned personal - the last two Grey Wardens of Ferelden got themselves an enemy.

"I'll let you live," Wolf turned to Loghain's agents. "Return to him and take a message: challenge accepted."

As the "mercenaries" ran out of the tavern, a young Chantry sister stepped forward, two bloody daggers behind her back.

"You forgot to tell him to say his prayers and prepare to die," she smirked. "Why so modest?"

"General Loghain is a seasoned warrior and won't be intimidated by a couple of Grey Wardens," Wolf shrugged. "It would be empty bragging. He is not someone we could just track down and kill. Oh, we'll get to him in time, but whether it will be he who dies or one of us, I am not so certain."

"Now, there's a cheery prospect..." Alistair whistled. "Realistic though..."

"I didn't realise Chantry sisters were permitted to carry arms, or to use them," Wolf smiled at the Chantry sister. "Where did you learn to fight like that, Sister?"

"Not in the Chantry, if that's what you're asking," she smiled back. "I am coming with you, Warden. The Maker told me to."

"I beg your pardon..?" Wolf thought for a moment that he had misheard.

"I know it sounds crazy. But He did. I had a dream. You are going against the Blight, are you not? Well. I'm coming with you."

"Err..."

"She isn't just a Chantry sister," Morrigan said in Wolf's ear. "She has a past."

"That much is obvious," Wolf replied in a low voice.

"What are you too whispering about?" Alistair joined in. "We can all hear you, you know."

"Well, we certainly need recruits, and a Chantry sister who fights like the Archdemon will fit right in," Wolf smiled at her. "What's your name, dear?"

"Leliana," she smiled. "And call me 'dear' one more time, and you'll have met the Archdemon early."

The party was certainly becoming quite colourful. They stayed in Lothering a little longer, gathered supplies and discussed strategy, such as it could be at these early stages of building an army to go against the Blight. Wolf couldn't make up his mind which group to approach first, and everyone was suggesting something different. In the end he whistled for Bob and went for a stroll in the woods to clear his head of all the chatter. His companions weren't soldiers, they joined the group for their own reasons... and it was his task to make them work together. Suddenly he just wished for a small horde of darkspawn to take his mind off the politics.

Ahah! So those wonderful witches did indeed intervene. And one is dragonborne no less.

With Flemeth’s help, Wolf now has a plan – sort of. And his small party is growing into what he correctly calls colorful.

Now to try and recruit some serious numbers.

Sun’s Dawn, 3E387 – The evil within

"Our first stop is Arl Eamon," Wolf announced to his party. "We have a treaty signed by his ancestors promising aid to Grey Wardens in times of the Blight. So we're going to see that he prepares some troops for us. They weren't at Ostagar, so they must still all be alive and well... or at least we hope so."

"Why start with nobility?" Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "A bunch of overfed self-righteous brats, the lot of them." She pouted her lips and stared at Alistair.

"What are you looking at me for? That's nothing to do with me!" He protested, but also blushed, and Wolf thought that Morrigan wasn't wrong in her assessment. But why did Alistair take it to heart like that?

"We have to start somewhere, and Redcliffe is nearest geographically," Wolf explained, making it sound final.

...

The village of Redcliffe lay on the shore of a large lake, with Castle Redcliffe towering above it. The area was mountainous, and the road was coming in from a high pass. There was a camping site before the pass, and our party stopped there, as they didn't want to go into the village with such a large group. As usual, only three or four of them would go talk to people, with the remaining members staying back at the camp. This time Wolf asked Alistair and Morrigan to join him, also whistling for Bob.

"Is the mongrel going to follow us around again?" Morrigan pouted her lips.

"He is not a mongrel, and yes," Wolf smiled and Bob gave a little hurt whine.

The village looked beautiful from the high pass, although looking closer, Wolf didn't see any farmers or fishermen, but only armed militia... They were armed and armoured, practicing sword fighting and archery, but at the same time they didn't look like soldiers at all. "These are farmers and fishermen preparing for battle," Wolf thought and his heart fell. He didn't sense any darkspawn about, so what could be the matter? He shot a quick glance at Alistair who too was looking anxiously at the village below.

"Before we go any further, I've got to tell you something," Alistair turned to Wolf, completely ignoring Morrigan.

"Alright, what is it?" Wolf had a feeling it wasn't about the state of the village.

"I grew up here," Alistair pointed at the castle. "In the castle. My mother died giving birth to me, my father was... indisposed, and Arl Eamon took me in. He raised me as his own son in the castle. Then he married a young woman from Orlais, I was about ten years old then, and she did not like me at all, because, you see, there were rumours that I was Arl Eamon's son... And seeing how my mother was a simple kitchen maid... well... that sounded like a scandal! While in fact my father was... well... the previous King... So the King that just fell in battle at Ostagar was my half-brother... err... Yeah, alright, I'm a bastard! So there! And yes, when the new Arlesse came to live in the castle, she insisted that I should be sent away to the Chantry to be trained as a templar... just so the rumours of me being Arl Eamon's son would stop... which of course didn't make them stop because the truth had to be kept secret... although a lot of people knew it anyway..."

Wolf was listening to this flood of revelations and thinking that the young man before him was in a lot of hot water. Suddenly it became clear why the self-proclaimed King Regent wanted him dead - not because he was a Grey Warden, but because he was a Prince, a bastard perhaps, but still a Prince, and thus a pretender to the throne. And although Wolf, as well as most people, could hardly imagine Alistair behaving like a king, it didn't change his blood. And that other thing - he was sent to the Chantry and trained as a templar... Templars were a Chantry-owned order of knights that kept the mages imprisoned in that infamous tower and hunted down any that escaped from it... any apostates, like Morrigan and her mother. Finally things started falling into place.

"So, to summarise," Wolf's face remained blank and closed as he looked at Alistair when he finished talking. "We are going to see your adoptive father. Well, no matter - we have a treaty signed by his great-great-great-grandfather or something, so it is only a coincidence that you're a relation. Everything else is not a coincidence, of course, but let's try to focus on the matter at hand. I appreciate you telling me this, it is important background information. And - Alistair? Don't worry about family matters getting in the way. You are a Grey Warden, and aren't Grey Wardens supposed to leave their previous lives behind? Well then..."

Alistair was taken aback, but stopped blushing and fidgeting.

"A Grey Warden..." he repeated as if realising it for the first time. "Yes, that's right. I am a Grey Warden. Here to enact an ancient treaty. Because that's my duty. Right. Let's go."

Morrigan listened intently, taking it all in. Her face did not betray her thoughts and she didn't say anything, for now at least.

As they entered the village, it became obvious that the locals were preparing for battle, just like Wolf had surmised. Undead rotting corpses had been attacking the village each night for the past week or so, and many people had already perished. The corpses were coming from the castle, but no one knew what summoned them. They had no word from the castle at all, and didn't know what was going on there, and whether anyone there was still alive. Arl Eamon himself had been taken gravely ill some weeks ago, and the Arlesse sent every knight out in search of a sacred artefact that alone had the power to save the Arl. The whole thing was extremely confusing and Wolf thought that many things didn't add up. However, with the Arl on his deathbed, they could forget about getting any troops to fight the Blight, unless they managed to cure the Arl somehow first. With Alistair nearly in tears breathing down his neck, Wolf decided to face that challenge.

"We are going to help you fight the monsters tonight," he told the village mayor. "What do you need?"

"What?!" Morrigan nearly exploded in protest. "You want to help these people fight a futile battle while we have more important things to worry about?!" She stared at Wolf, the air crisp with both charge and frost around her. "Shouldn't we be going after the Blight instead?!"

"Yes, we are going to help these people fight the walking corpses tonight," Wolf answered calmly. "I am counting on your aid. It will be an angry battle - right up your alley."

"Why not rescue kittens out of trees next!" Morrigan snapped but didn't object any further.

The battle was indeed ferocious, and in spite of all the preparations, many villagers fell. The walking corpses were much stronger than any ordinary zombies that Wolf encountered before, and they were different from darkspawn, too. The corpses seemed to have been directed by some force... presumably the evil that took possession of the castle.

Then, in the morning, just as Arl's brother was telling Wolf about a secret passage into the castle, the Arlesse came running down the hill, appearing in the village for the first time since the corpse invasion began.

"Teagan, you must come with me, quickly and alone!" She addressed Arl's brother without preliminaries. "I beg of you, there isn't any time!"

"What..?" He was visibly taken aback. "You... you are alive? Is anyone else alive in the castle? The Arl..?"

"Yes, yes, he is alive, he's in his bed, the same as before," the Arlesse brushed off his questions impatiently. "We're all alive... well, may be not all... but everyone who's important, is alive..."

"I don't like this..." Wolf said quietly under his breath, and Teagan shot him a glance and nodded.

"You will have to do better than that, Arlesse," he turned to the lady in quite a formal fashion. "Explain what has been going on."

"Oh Teagan, there is no time! Come with me quick! We've got to hurry!" She tried to plead, but then realised that it wasn't working. "Very well... My husband was poisoned! The mage responsible was caught and is now locked up in the dungeon. But then the corpses appeared - he must have summoned them!"

"Hold on..." Teagan squinted. "A mage poisoned my brother - that's bad. And if the poison was potent, I understand the need for a sacred artefact to cure him. But what was that mage doing in your castle in the first place? How did he manage to poison the Arl?"

"He... I... He was tutoring my son..." The Arlesse stuttered. "He stayed with us... for many weeks... but in secret... My husband must never find out! I hired that mage to teach my son to hide his magic!"

"Because if my brother had realised that the boy had magical abilities, he would have sent him to the tower," Teagan nodded. "As is the law in this country, as you well know," he glared at the Arlesse. "So then the mage is an apostate."

"Yes."

"But why did he poison the Arl?"

"He says that Loghain hired him to do that when... well... word got around that I was looking to hire a mage to teach my son..." The Arlesse's voice was getting weaker and weaker. "The mage could be lying though..." She looked pleadingly at Teagan.

"I don't think the mage is lying," he dismissed her words. "It's all your fault, Lady Arlesse."

She nodded and started crying.

"So then why do you want me to come with you now, quickly and alone?" Teagan wasn't melting before her tears.

"It's my son! He wants to see you!" She pleaded, but Teagan just shook his head. "Alright, alright! Something inside my son! He... Oh Teagan! Just come with me, please!" She now completely broke down in a flood of tears.

"The boy is possessed by a demon, by the sound of things," Morrigan said softly. "That mage may have poisoned the Arl, but I do not believe he had anything to do with the demon or the walking corpses..."

"But he did! It's all his fault! He summoned the demon, the corpses, everything!!" The Arlesse cried out, but everyone just shook their heads.

"Magic doesn't work that way, Arlesse," Morrigan said dismissively. "He could not have done it even if he wanted to."

"Alright, enough talk," Teagan made up his mind. "I'll come with you, Arlesse." Then, taking Wolf aside and out of earshot, he continued. "It's a trap, of course, I have no illusions. But I have to see if I can help my brother, I still don't fully understand the situation. I ask you to enter the castle through the secret passage I told you about, and see what transpires. We both want my brother to recover, so our goals are thus aligned, are they not, Warden?"

"Indeed," Wolf nodded. "We'll do as you suggest. And once we know the full story, we can decide how to proceed."

They parted ways. Teagan followed the Arlesse into the castle, and Wolf took his party through the secret passage which came out in the dungeons.

...

"Hello? Is anyone there?" A weak voice was heard from one of the cells. "Hello?"

"Ah, that must be the mage that poisoned Arl Eamon!" Alistair was ready to spit in the face of a young mage behind bars, no older than Alistair himself. "I say we kill him now!!"

"Now, now, no rush moves, please," Wolf stood between Alistair's sword and the bars, while the mage retreated as far back into the cell as he could. "Let's at least hear his side of the story first."

"It's true, I poisoned the Arl," the mage nodded. "I got myself into so much trouble with the Circle... The Circle of Magi in the tower, you know..." He added, noticing Wolf's foreign accent and thinking that perhaps he needed to explain a bit more. "I escaped once a twice... well... ten or twenty times, may be... as a kid... but they always caught me! Always returned me there... And then I dabbled in blood magic... And yes, I can actually do a few things with it... That makes me a maleficar... I shall be executed, as soon as templars get their hands on me... So when Loghain offered to make my troubles go away, I could not refuse... He had explained that this Arl was an enemy of the state, but I've never heard of him before... I grew up in the tower, I had no idea of politics of the land... Of course now it all seems upside down, but there you are..."

"Ah!!! A blood mage!!! He is a blood mage!!!!" Alistair bellowed, nearly running Wolf through with his sword in his eagerness to execute the mage.

"What, this boy - a blood mage?" Morrigan laughed, but not unkindly. "I don't believe a word of it. Just knowing a ritual or two that uses blood magic does not make you into a maleficar..."

"But he summoned the demon! And the demon raised the corpses!!" Alistair wouldn't give up.

"I rather think that the Arlesse's son summoned the demon, most likely inadvertently," Morrigan objected. "How much of a mage is that boy, actually?" She turned to the mage in the cell. "How much did you teach him?"

"I only taught him some basic spells," the mage shrugged his shoulders. "His magic is only just awakening, but therein lies the danger. He cannot control it yet."

"And that's what the demon exploited," Morrigan nodded. "The question is why... I mean so many children go through this, and hardly anyone ever gets possessed... so why this boy, I wonder?"

"Well, we are not going to solve this riddle down here," Wolf sheathed Alistair's sword for him. "Do you want me to unlock your cell?" He turned to the mage. "The castle is overrun by walking corpses, so I don't know whether you'd be safer in or out."

Alistair tried to protest, but Wolf just stared at him.

"Out would be safer," the mage said with a glimmer of hope. "I shall try to get to the boy. I don't know... I am not all that strong any more, after all the torture... but may be I can be of use."

"We are going there as well," Wolf nodded. "Try not to die now."

Wolf unlocked the cell, they walked together till the end of the corridor, and then the mage took the route through the kitchen, while Wolf and his party engaged a fresh batch of walking corpses on their way to the castle courtyard. Somewhere there was a great evil possessing a little boy.

Sun’s Dawn, 3E387 – A maleficar

Waves of walking corpses were not going to stop two Grey Wardens, a witch and a war dog, and eventually Wolf and his party reached the main hall of Castle Redcliffe where they found Teagan, the Arl's brother, performing a silly dance in front of a young boy and his crying mother, the Arlesse. The boy spoke with a deep, booming voice... clearly not his own.

"Ahhh, you are the one who dared to deprive me of entertainment!" He lashed out angrily at Wolf. "You killed my soldiers! But never fear, I'll have more tonight and that stupid village will finally fall!"

"Oh Conor, please..!" The Arlesse tried to intervene, but he slapped her and she fell. So, the boy had the demon's strength as well as his voice. And that demon had a short temper, and a fight broke out before the conversation was over. More walking corpses appeared out of nowhere... it was getting old.

But the demon tired of fighting quickly, and when the corpses were defeated, the boy ran away, leaving the adults to ponder what to do.

"So it is as we had thought - the boy is possessed by a demon," Morrigan observed. "A rather angry one, by the looks of things. But how did this happen? And don't say that your apostate mage summoned him!" She glared at the Arlesse who was indeed about to blame the mage.

"It all started some time after we imprisoned the mage," she said meekly. "When the word got around that the Arl had been poisoned... Conor was very upset about it and vowed to keep him alive... but how could he, he's just a little boy!" She raised her eyes and looked at everyone in turn, but it was obvious that she had understood long ago what really happened.

"And so the demon found Conor through his distress," Morrigan observed. "And offered him to keep his father alive, no doubt. Of course Conor didn't know that any mage could do that much for his father without any demonic involvement... and so he agreed. Anything to keep his father alive... Hmm..."

"So then no one really summoned the demon," Teagan concluded.

"It's all my fault for poisoning the Arl," the mage that had been imprisoned in the dungeons entered the room.

"You!!!" The Arlesse flew into a rage. "Who released you?!!" She glared at Wolf, realising it must have been he.

"I released the mage, yes," Wolf nodded. "You tortured him enough and he's fully aware how he'd been played and what a mess he created. But he is the one person your son trusts, even if the demon does not. He poses no threat and will help us."

"Help us how?" Teagan squinted. "Although I agree that he poses no threat..."

"The question is how to get rid of the demon," Wolf turned to him. "The obvious option is to kill the boy, but I don't like it. There are ways to reach the demon without killing the child."

Wolf didn't really know what he was talking about, not being a mage himself. He'd never seen a possessed person before, and surely never had to deal with any demons... But something was telling him that it should be possible.

"Of course, one should simply go into the Fade and confront the demon there," Morrigan shrugged her shoulders.

"Go into the Void, find a particular spirit in there, fight and kill it and try not to die in the process," Wolf summarised. "Do we have any other options?" He smirked. "Something more realistic, perhaps?"

"I can send someone into the Fade," the mage said quietly. "It won't be hard finding the demon possessing Conor because Conor is here. The fight, however, won't be easy..."

"I'll go," Wolf gave him a long look, checking his sword.

"There is another snag," the mage returned the look. "This ritual takes a lot of energy. We either need a lot of lyrium and several mages to assist me, or... we can use blood magic and take the energy from another person... But it will take so much, that that person will die."

"Then take me!" The Arlesse cried out. "Take my life energy! I want to save my son!"

"You were about to execute that mage just a minute ago," Teagan turned to her. "Now you are ready to hand over your life to him! You knew from the start that he's just a confused young man who made some bad mistakes..."

"It's true," the Arlesse nodded and blushed. "The blame for everything is really mine. I made it all possible..."

"We should stop kicking the blame around and focus on freeing the boy!" Morrigan interrupted them. "You can resume your blame game afterwards!" She glared at everyone. "You cannot go into the Fade, Warden," she turned to Wolf. "You are not a mage. I shall go. Let's begin."

"Whoa - hold it!" Wolf shook his head. "The tower of magi is just on the other shore of the lake. I am sure they will lend their aid in this. We shall go there and ask, I don't want to kill the mother either. With her dead, the blame game will become a lot less entertaining."

"Err..." Teagan smirked and raised an eyebrow, then realised that that last comment from Wolf was just meant to diffuse the tension, and it worked. Everyone sighed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Warden, we shall await your return," he bowed his head. Then, turning to the "maleficar" mage, he added without hostility: "You will keep an eye on Conor and try to prevent the demon from sending more walking corpses into the village. You are guilty of poisoning the Arl, of course, but I see no reason to have you locked up any longer."

With the situation thus peacefully resolved, our party returned to their camp outside the village, aiming to leave for the mages' tower the following day. Wolf, however, still had some talking to do.

First, he approached Morrigan who had set up her tent a bit away from everyone else.

"If I may have a word?" He started and she looked up. "You are very eager to go into the Fade and meet the demon, and I understand why. I may not be a mage, but this isn't about magic specifically. This is about power. I wonder if I can trust you."

"You are very observant," Morrigan smiled thinly. "I start to understand what mother saw in you... why she went to such lengths to save you." She sighed and her expression cleared. "Yes, of course I have no intention of fighting the demon. Demons can bestow power or knowledge, and I intend to make a deal. The boy will be free, anyhow, that I promise."

"How can you be so sure?" Wolf squinted. "How many demons have you encountered before?"

"A few," Morrigan conceded. "It isn't uncommon for a mage... we enter the Fade in our dreams, we are drawn to it. Even non-mages enter the Fade when they dream, or rather their spirits do... But demons are not interested in the spirits of non-mages, so most people don't realise where the visions in dreams come from."

"So, if it is so easy for anyone's spirit to enter the Fade, then why do we need a ritual to send someone there?" Wolf sat down next to her, glad that they were having a polite conversation.

"To remain aware and in control of your actions," Morrigan explained. "Normally it's the other way around - the Fade takes control. But in order to do something purposeful, the spirit of the person going in, has to remain aware... So while I've met some demons in the Fade before, I was never able to engage in any sort of conversation with them unless they initiated it, which they didn't..." She added with some regret.

"Don't rush into it..." Wolf looked at her sideways. "Demons aren't nice people, you know."

"Demons aren't... How would you even know?" Morrigan exclaimed in surprise. "You are not a mage!"

"But I am Dragonborn," Wolf smiled. "I met the Archdemon in the Fade several times already... if it was the Fade... because the Archdemon is not a spirit, of course..."

"Dragons can dwell in the Fade as well," Morrigan nodded. "Dragons are... quite peculiar beings, really..."

"Are you really Flemeth's daughter?" Wolf asked suddenly. "You can shape-shift like her, but you are not a dragon..."

"I am not a child of her womb, no," Morrigan answered slowly. "But she raised me since I was a babe, so I call her mother. I've often wondered why of all orphans she picked me... She must have sensed that I had magic..."

"Just how much do you know about her?" Wolf squinted and wondered whether there were a few crucial details about Flemeth that Morrigan wasn't aware of.

"I know that she is more than just a gifted witch," Morrigan smirked. "That transformation into a dragon, that's a sight to see... I don't even come close. I can do a spider and a bear, but a dragon... that's an entirely different game."

"So you don't know that your mother is in fact..." Wolf cut himself off mid-sentence. If Morrigan didn't know what he could sense, then Flemeth had not told her.

"That she's what?"

"It doesn't matter now," Wolf shook his head. "You will find out in time, I have no doubt."

He got up, ending their conversation, and leaving Morrigan to ponder what "Dragonborn" actually meant.

Next he went to talk to Alistair.

"You have been awfully quiet since I released the mage in the dungeon," Wolf started. "You would rather I killed him on sight."

"Yes," Alistair nodded. "He poisoned Arl Eamon and he is a blood mage! How could you even consider letting him live?" Alistair looked bitter and hurt. "How could Teagan even consider it? Have you both gone mad?!"

"We have not," Wolf smiled. "That mage was a pawn in Loghain's game of power - he was a convenient tool to infiltrate the castle of Redcliffe, get close to the Arl and poison him. I'm sure you can see that it was Loghain's doing, not the mage's." Alistair sighed and nodded, and Wolf continued. "And so while that mage is not innocent in this, he is no threat to anyone either."

"But he is a blood mage!" Alistair protested. "And an apostate!!"

"And you are not a templar," Wolf retorted. "You no longer serve the Chantry. You do not hunt mages. You do not kill 'undesirable' mages on sight. You do not enforce their perpetual imprisonment in that tower. You do not police their choices of magical practices. Do I need to go on?" He glared at Alistair.

"You don't like templars," Alistair concluded.

"No."

"But... aren't you a soldier yourself?" Alistair squinted. "Duncan had mentioned something or other... an officer even... from a foreign land, perhaps, but still..."

"I am an Agent of the Imperial Legion of Tamriel, yes," Wolf nodded. "But it is irrelevant here. My mission is to fight the Blight with the Grey Wardens, and our ranks are currently limited to you and me. We have to focus on what we, Grey Wardens, do, and how we do it. We have to leave our prior lives behind... including our prior habits. Grey Wardens fight to win, do they not? Grey Wardens do not police mages."

"Grey Wardens have mages in their ranks, normally," Alistair nodded. "Point taken. Don't you have a word for warriors like us? Battle-mages or something?"

"Battlemages is what we call knights that also use magic, yes," Wolf nodded. "Templars are battlemages too, just of a different kind."

"They use magic to disrupt mages," Alistair sighed. "I never looked at it this way, but it's true, of course. Our land must seem pretty backwards to you..."

"Every land has different laws, and I don't judge," Wolf shrugged. "Although I have my doubts whether imprisoning all mages can really be the answer... Just look what it led to here, in Redcliffe... with the Arlesse being so afraid to lose her son to the tower, that she preferred to go against the law and make the boy an apostate... Even if that mage she hired hadn't poisoned the Arl, the boy would have been condemned to death for not being in the tower, all long before he was even old enough to make up his own mind."

"It's a mess, granted," Alistair sighed. "Gosh, am I glad I'm not the one leading this campain..."

He smiled and relaxed, and Wolf was glad that peace was restored in their little group. "Grey Wardens fight to win," he repeated to himself. "Grey Wardens do not allow chivalry or even morality get in the way of victory... I wonder where it would lead, and whether it would go too far... whether it had gone too far in the past already..." Something was telling him that he would eventually find out. Could two Grey Wardens stand against the Blight? Not if they were too picky in their choices of allies, he was certain. And yet some principles had to be maintained, and Wolf decided that he would do what felt right, using his own morality as a gauge. Whether it was right or wrong he didn't know, but it was something he could maintain with consistency. "If it were up to Alistair, Grey Wardens would have no mages in their ranks," he reflected. "It's just as well that he isn't leading this campain..."

Sun's Dawn, 3E387 - Red mist

When Wolf and his party arrived at the Tower of Magi, they found the gates locked, with no one going in or out.

"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" Wolf turned to Alistair. "It's not supposed to be a literal prison, is it?" Alistair shrugged his shoulders, he too was surprised, it indeed wasn't supposed to be a literal prison, at least not in appearances.

They knocked once or twice, but there was no response. Yet they needed to speak to the mages for two reasons: one was to ask them to help free a boy from possession at the Redcliffe Castle, and the other was the matter of the ancient trieaties pledging help to the Grey Wardens in times of the Blight. Both were important and could not just be brushed away, and so Wolf continued knocking on the door until his banging became truly deafening.

"Alright, alright, I hear you, stop that noise already!" A closed helmet appeared in the door. "The Tower is closed. No one is to go in or out. Now get lost." And the door was shut in their faces again.

"Erm..." Wolf picked up a rock from the ground. "If you think you'll get rid of me that easily, you've got it wrong, pal..." Banging on a metal door with a rock was much louder than banging on it with a fist.

"What?!!" The helmet appeared in the door again. "I told you to get lost!!"

"And I need to speak to the mages," Wolf quickly put his shield in the door. "I am a Grey Warden and we need their help fighting the Blight."

"You can be my mother's maid, for all I care, I still won't let you in," the helmet retorted. "Closed is closed." However, with Wolf's shield stuck in the door, he couldn't shut it.

"Your mother's maid?" Wolf smirked. "Quite fond of the girl then, are we?"

"Erm..." The helmet looked up and sighed. "Persistent, aren't you? A Grey Warden, you say? Well, I'll let you in. The Knight Commander will kick you out in a minute anyway..."

...

"The Tower of Magi is closed - permanently." The Knight Commander stood firm watching Wolf approach. "We've had a... situation. We've sent away for the Rite of Annulement, and until then the tower has been sealed."

"And what happens when this Rite arrives?" Wolf didn't like it already.

"We shall set the tower on fire and maintain it until it burns down to the ground," the Commander smirked. "What do you think will happen? We'll go in and kill everything and everyone in there who isn't dead already."

"What is this 'situation' that you've been having?" Wolf squinted.

"A mage rebellion," the Knight Commander shrugged. "A bad one - with blood magic. There are demons and abominations inside."

"And mages, presumably?" Wolf asked dispassionately. "Fighting those demons and abominations?"

"If they are still alive, yes, some of my templars as well. But they are all forfeit now, or they will be, once the Rite of Annulement arrives." He sighed with regret. "I don't want to do it, you know. A small group of mages rebelled, but they summoned demons using blood magic, both of which is forbidden. And with a good reason! It's dangerous... The demons are too powerful for this world... And they took over the tower, there's fighting on every floor. We templars cannot control it any longer, so the only way to resolve it is to kill everyone indiscriminantly, which we can do still... We will probably just set fire to it all..."

"Allow me to go in and try to help defeat the demons," Wolf asked calmly.

"Are you mad?!" The Knight Commander looked at Wolf with doubt. "You don't know what's behind that door!"

"I don't," Wolf nodded. "But I do know that without mages in our ranks, we will not stand against the Blight because the Archdemon, he does have mages... I have to try."

"We can do without mages, I am certain of it!" Alistair said in a loud, clear voice. "We do not need mages. We can slay darkspawn with swords and arrows alone!"

Morrigan smirked hearing this, Leliana nodded and Wolf turned to Alistair, still calm as ever.

"Is that Alistair the Grey Warden speaking or Alistair the templar?" He asked coldly. "Or perhaps Alistair the Crown Prince? Ready to wipe out all mages in his Kingdom?"

Alistair paled, that blow was below the belt.

"How dare you..." He exhaled.

"I dare," Wolf's voice turned to ice. "Ferelden has but two Grey Wardens to stand against tens of thousands of darkspawn troops with a dragon leading them. Just you and me. I dare to remind you of your duty - we are here to build an army, an army stronger than the one that was crushed at Ostagar led by a King who underestimated the danger."

Alistair remained silent for a short time, then he shook his head as if clearing it of fog.

"Yeah, you are right... I don't know what came over me..."

"Oh, I know what came over you," Wolf spoke in a much softer tone, leading Alistair out of earshot. "The Chantry still has its hold on you. We are amidst templars, and all the brainwashing that you received, is coming to the fore. I see it is too strong still. Stay behind, sit this one out. I'll take someone else with me."

"You need my templar skills though," Alistair objected. "To disrupt magic... it works against demons as well as against mages, you know."

"It would have been useful, but we'll manage without," Wolf nodded. "Your mind isn't strong enough yet." Then, returning to the Knight Commander, he said with resolve: "We'll go in. Don't burn down the tower until we're back."

"I'll wait another day," the Knight Commander sighed. "But if you don't return by then... well... You are quite mad, you know."

Wolf nodded and stepped through the door to the tower proper.

...

Everything inside the tower was covered in blood. There were corpses everywhere - mages, templars, servants... it didn't look like anyone was still alive. Strange fleshy sacks adorned the walls, with blood dripping off them.

"What is this?" Wolf turned to Morrigan. "I thought demons were spirits, so what's with all the flesh hanging like in a slaughterhouse?"

"Demons are spirits," Morrigan nodded. "They feed on our souls. But they also draw power from blood... I am not entirely sure how, exactly. These fleshy sacks are not corpses, they are demonic growth..."

"It's gross and it stinks to high heaven!" Leliana pinched her nose. "Is it like this in the rest of the tower? I think I am going to be sick!"

"It is like this in the rest of the land as well," Wolf looked at her sideways. "Welcome to the Blight, Sister! Didn't your Maker warn you about the smell?"

Leliana bit her lip but stopped complaining. Bob shot into a side passage, returning a few minutes later with a huge rat in his mouth. Morrigan rolled her eyes. Leliana giggled. They continued into the tower.

...

"Stop right there and do not approach!" A threatening voice up ahead stopped them in their tracks. "Who are you?" An older woman held her staff poised at them.

"Wynn?" Wolf recalled meeting her at the army camp in Ostagar. "You survived Ostagar as well?"

"Do I know you?" She peered into Wolf's face but did not stand down. "Ostagar? You seem familiar..."

"I was one of the new Grey Warden recruits," Wolf reminded her. "We spoke briefly... There were many mages there, has anyone else survived?"

"Ah... yes, now I remember," Wynn relaxed her stance and put away her staff. "What's your name, young man?"

"Wolf," he answered, smiling at the "young man" designation. Young compared to her, no doubt.

"Quite a few of us survived, in fact," Wynn continued. "The King wanted us to join the battle after Loghain's assault, and since that never happened... well..." She sighed and shook her head. "We fought our way out of there when all was already lost."

"What is happening here?" Wolf changed the topic.

"You went in not knowing?" Wynn raised an eyebrow. "Demons, abominations and blood mages have taken over our tower. I sealed the door to protect the children here... but I don't know how much longer I can maintain the barrier." She wiped her brow and Wolf realised just how tired she looked. "Is the Knight Commander not with you?"

"No," Wolf didn't know how to say it, seeing cautious childen's faces peeking from behind a door. "The Knight Commander sent for the Rite of Annulement." He decided to be direct.

"What?! Leaving us to die here?!" Wynn was indignant. "Ooh, I shall not go down so easily! Let him come! After Ostagar, there's little that frightens this old woman!"

"I say these mages are getting what they deserve," Morrigan was looking at the other mages in the room with disdain. "To allow themselves to be imprisoned like that, to be trodded upon by the Chantry and its templars... They have no pride, no self-esteem! Leave them to die then!"

Remarkably, several mages backed off as if Morrigan's words burned them like fire. Even Wynn had nothing to say.

"I too find this law peculiar, to say the least," Wolf nodded. "And it seems that some mages tried to rebel. And this is the result," he waved his hand at the fleshy sacks.

"Hmm..." Morrigan looked at him sideways. "They didn't do it right, obviously... couldn't control the demons..."

"Controlling demons is no easy matter, if even at all possible," Wynn said calmly. "That is why we object to summoning them. Demonology is still in its infancy, but with the research being based on unethical methods, it is never going to be allowed... So all that is left is to refrain from it altogether."

"As if you can refrain from meeting demons in the Fade!" Morrigan turned to Wynn, surprised to hear her join the argument.

"It's not the same though, is it?" Wynn smiled at Morrigan. "But perhaps we should focus on the situation at hand. I am willing to go in and try to slay as many demons as I can, but you must remain here and protect the children," she turned to Wolf. "They are innocent in this."

"No, I shall go in and fight the demons and you stay here and look after the kids," Wolf shook his head.

"Why don't you both go and I shall stay behind and play hide and seek with the children?" Leliana joined in with a short laugh. "The Knight Commander was right - you are quite mad, you know."

"Well, I am not going to squander this opportunity to play with demons!" Morrigan stepped forward. "I am going in!"

They looked around searching for Bob, but he seemed to have disappearred into another corridor after an even bigger rat, so that discounted him as well.

"Sten?" Wolf turned to the quanari companion. "Fancy coming along to stretch your legs?"

A low grunt was his reply and Sten stepped forward. Demons weren't exactly darkspawn, but it was better than sitting in camp doing nothing.

"Well... Alright then," Wynn looked at each of them in turn. "That's quite a party." She smiled at Sten and dissolved the barrier.

...

They found the same thing on every floor. Flesh sacks on the walls, corpses on the ground, overturned furniture blocking the way. They faced a few demons and dispatched them without too much trouble, and Wolf wondered what had really taken place there. What were the rebels trying to achieve? It wasn't just a protest, it was an attempt to seize power.

"Who is in charge here normally?" He asked Wynn. "Is it the Knight Commander?"

"He'd like to think so," Wynn frowned. "But no, he is not in charge. Sure, the templars have swords and shields, but look how easily they were defeated by a small group of rogue mages... Perhaps we do allow this encarceration through our compliance..." She shot a sideways glance at Morrigan who was pretending that Wynn wasn't there. "The First Enchanter is in charge," she answered Wolf's question. "His office is on the floor above us, although I doubt he'd be at his desk..."

"Then we must find him, or find his body," Wolf decided.

The First Enchanter's office was empty. There weren't even any demons in it, and Wolf started going through the papers. Wynn objected at first and tried to stop him, but he replied that he still didn't understand what was going on, and when Wynn couldn't explain how a small group of rogue mages managed to defeat so many mages and templars, she had to concede that she didn't understand it either.

"And you are one of the Senior Enchanters," Wolf shook his head. "So if you don't know it..."

"Well, I may have missed a meeting or two," Wynn smiled. "Very well, let's see what we can find."

They didn't find much. The First Enchanter had some cryptic notes, some letters and some lengthy treateses on his shelves, but none of it explained what happened. Then, as they continued going through the tower, they were attacked by mages rather than demons.

"Don't kill them all!" Wolf shouted just in time. These were indeed the rebels.

"Petra!" Wynn stood over a defeated mage. "I never! Explain yourself!"

"It's simple, Wynn, open your eyes and see," Petra smirked. "Most of us were never allowed to leave this tower, unlike yourself. What makes you so special? You have no idea what it was like!"

"But turn to blood magic?" Wynn frowned.

"It's not blood, it's demons where we went wrong," Petra shook her head. "Just ask the First Enchanter. Blood magic is only forbidden because it makes it possible to summon demons..."

"And because it makes it possible to manipulate other people's minds!" Wynn retorted.

"Oh please!" Petra rolled her eyes. "There are scores of other spells that do just that, and they are perfectly legal..."

"I hate to interrupt this learned discourse," Wolf interjected. "But I would rather like to know what happened here and what led to it, minus the moral aspect. What were you rebels trying to achieve?"

"Oh, you don't know?" Petra looked up in surprise. "You mean, it didn't happen?"

"What didn't happen?"

"Loghain didn't send his troops?"

"Loghain?" Wolf squinted. "His name does keep turning up as a bad penny, doesn't it? No, he didn't send his troops. Was he supposed to? Explain."

"Uldred told us it already happened..." Petra shook her head. "He lied... Uldred is our leader," she looked up at Wolf. "During the last council meeting he proposed that the Circle of Magi should join Loghain in his coup against the King. Our mages were to retreat with Loghain's troops from the battle at Ostagar, and in exchange Loghain would free us from the Chantry and its templars. But the First Enchanter refused, along with some senior mages. The First Enchanter wanted to send word to the King..."

"But that's treason!" Wynn cried out. "When was this meeting?"

"After you left for Ostagar," Petra looked at her. "If the First Enchanter had agreed, you would have received word in time."

"Somehow I doubt that..." Wynn shook her head.

"Hmm... But that doesn't explain what happened here." Wolf was getting impatient.

"I was just getting to that. Uldred told us that since the First Enchanter refused to cooperate, we should force his hand by staging a rebellion in this tower during the following council meeting. This way we'd have all the senior mages in the same room, you see," she smiled slyly. "We'd summon a few lesser demons, kill a few templars, make a lot of noise and thus allow Loghain's troops to enter the tower while the templars would be busy with us... And Loghain would then remove the First Enchanter and free the mages. But since he isn't here..."

"You are not getting freed," Wolf finished her sentence. "He isn't coming. Do you want me to kill you now or do you prefer to take your chances with the templars? Because I think they'll execute you anyway."

Petra shook her head and Wolf took it for the choice to stay alive for now.

"And so this is why the fighting continued," Wynn concluded as they moved on. "They might have started by summoning lesser demons, but that ripped up the Veil and then other demons started coming through, without being summoned. That's the danger with demons. The plan was to repair the Veil quickly after a short battle, no doubt, but it didn't work out that way..."

"Can the Veil still be repaired?" Wolf started wondering whether the Knight Commander had a point with his Rite of Annulement.

"Oh yes, it can be repaired," Wynn said with certainty. "We need to find the First Enchanter."

"Welcome, welcome!" A deep, booming voice greeted them as they entered the next hall. "Come, it has been a long day. Come, rest, relax. Sit by the fire, it's warm. You must be hungry - we have stew and soup, or do you prefer roast..?" The voice started trailing off, and Wolf suddenly realised just how tired he was. A break was long overdue, and the stew and the roast smelled so much better than the fleshy sacks of demonic growth... surely, a rest could not hurt...

Sun's Dawn, 3E387 - A warrior in the Fade

"Is this... Elsweyr?" Wolf looked at the strange sandy landscape around him. "No, it's too cold for Elsweyr," he decided. "What is this place?" He saw dunes with tall, dead trees lining the paths, like a strange but cultured garden.


He walked down a path and came to a clearing with several magical portals and a sundial.

"Hello!" Someone greeted him from behind the trees. "Are you new here?"

"I am new here, yes," Wolf walked towards the sound of the voice. A man of about his age was walking towards him. He wore mage's robes but had no staff.

"I am Niall," he introduced himself. "I've been stuck here... well... for a while now. But you... you don't look like a mage."

"I am not a mage," Wolf shook his head. "Name's Wolf. What is this place?"

"It's the Fade," Niall gave Wolf a long look. "Then you met the demon in Mundus..."

"We've been fighting demons in the mages' tower, yes," Wolf nodded. "How did I get here?"

"It's the Sloth Demon," Niall explained. "Like many others, he entered Mundus through the tear in the Veil. Did he offer you rest? And you accepted? There's no shame in this, you could not refuse even if you had tried..."


"We are trapped then," Wolf sighed.

"We? You and I, you mean? Afraid so."

"I meant my companions... Are they here as well?"

"You weren't alone? Yes, they are likely here too," Niall nodded.

"How do we get out?" Wolf looked around, but didn't see an exit.

"Get out?" Niall gave a short laugh. "You don't. Well, I couldn't. You don't have much time - the demon is feeding off your soul, weakening it every minute you stay here... It does not take long, and there isn't enough of it left to return to Mundus. Then you die."

"Then I have to hurry," Wolf decided. "You said there was a way out. What do I do?"

"Nothing dampens your spirit, does it?" Niall smiled. "Alright, here's what I learned - this will save you some time. This domain has islands, they are linked and they reinforce each other. Each island has a lesser demon guarding it. You have to defeat all five lesser demons to unlock the central island where you will presumably face the Sloth Demon himself. I didn't get that far, don't know..." Niall paused, and Wolf noticed peculiar paleness in his face. Was that because he'd been in the Fade for too long? "But there are obstacles along the way. Different types of doors and passages, portals and stairs. There are other dreamers here too, and enemies - so many enemies. You are not meant to go looking for an exit, you see. The Sloth Demon makes you comfortable, so that you just relax and let him devour your soul without resistance..."

"How do I get through those various doors?" Wolf was listening intently, he promised himself not to relax.

"The other dreamers, some of them have learned to take on other shapes that let you pass through those doors. You'd have to collect several in order to reach each of the lesser demons, or to find your companions. And you have to hurry..." Niall smiled, he was looking very weak.

"I must try," Wolf checked his sword. "I shall be back, I hope. Will you still be here?"

"I'll be here," Niall nodded. "I have no strength left to go anywhere else." He sat down on a bench and smiled at Wolf. "Those sundials are actually Fade Pedestals," he pointed. "Portals of sorts. You can move from island to island through them, but you have to unlock the islands first. Good luck, Wolf."

Wolf nodded and approached the pedestal. As he touched it, runes appeared before him, a plan of the domain. One island was highlighted - the island he was on, he realised. He would have to start by exploring it and see if anything changed.

...

"Portal to portal, down the path, turn left, fight a demon... or may be just a spirit, who knows... down another path, through the portal... How do I get back to Niall?" Wolf started feeling discouraged. "Alright, alright! Keep going... May be something'll come up..."


...

"Hey! Hey!!!" A very high pitched voice sounded from somewhere below the ground. "Over here!!!" No, not below the ground - on the ground, in the bushes. What? A mouse?

"Now I know I'm dreaming - it's a talking mouse," Wolf said loudly.

"There's no need to be rude!" Said the mouse. "I am not a mouse. Well, I am now... I'm stuck in this form! I was so afraid of all the spirits, I got transformed... not sure how it happened, but hey, it's the Fade. And now I'm stuck!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Wolf crouched in front of the mouse. "That's tough."

"It has its perks though," the mouse walked over to a mouse hole. "See these? They connect sections of this island. I can go places where you cannot."

"Ah, that's what Niall was talking about!" Wolf realised that it was one of those special doors. You needed a special form to get through, in this case a mouse. "I want to learn your form. How did you do it?"

"I said I don't know," the mouse replied in a hurt voice. "I was afraid - then it happened. Do you want me to scare you so that you can transform too?"

"Err... I am not sure that would work," Wolf rubbed his chin.

"Oh, you think you're so big and strong and cannot be scared by a mouse?" The mouse replied defiantly. "Well, even huge elephants are afraid of us mice, I'll have you know!"

"Hmm." Wolf got up. "You'll have to do better than that. I'm not scared yet."

The mouse turned around and disappeared into a mouse hole nearby.

"Oh great," Wolf swore. "Now he's gone and I can't follow." He stared at the little hill of a mouse hole with a narrow passage going into the earth. "I want to get through." He crouched before it. "If I can't learn the mouse form, I won't be able to leave." He imagined getting paler and paler, like Nial. He would lose his strength and would not be able to lift his sword... he would just sit there and let the Sloth Demon feed off his soul, sucking it dry like a coconut through a straw... then discarding his empty shell... his physical body would die and be raised as a walking corpse in service of the demon in all eternity... "Whoa!!!" Wolf jumped up. That was a scary prospect. Suddenly the earth moved towards him and the tiny passage of the mouse hole grew in size, and now he could enter and walk in it freely. Or crawl... no, walk, run... on all fours... He was now a mouse.

"I see it worked after all," the mouse greeted him on the other side of the passage. "See you around, mouse!" He ran off, and Wolf proceded exploring this new part of the island.

...

It took some practice, but after a while Wolf learned to transform into the mouse form and back into a man at will. This was just the first step, but he felt it was important to master it, and then other forms would come easier. He wanted to believe it, anyway. He went through several mouse holes and portals and somehow found himself in the clearing where Niall was still sitting on a bench.

"Something happened," Niall greeted him. "I felt vibrations. What did you find?"

"I learned the mouse form," Wolf smiled and transformed back and forth to demonstrate. "I explored the rest of this island and defeated something... it wasn't a demon, I think, but it seemed different from the rest."

"It's your first key," Niall nodded. "I managed that too. Now you know how it goes."

Wolf stepped to the Fade Pedestal and saw several runes light up - he could now enter a few other islands. He picked one.

...

Each island presented new challenges and took time to go through. There were still many doors that Wolf could not open, and he realised that the mouse form was only the beginning of a long and arduous journey, a journey meant to seep his strength. He started looking for shortcuts, building a map of the domain in his mind. Yes, it could be done, each island could be mapped out, divided into sections, subdivided into rooms, with doors that he could or could not open, yet. But did he have enough time to do it? He could not tell.

From time to time he returned to Niall - he had figured out how to find him. There was nothing new that Niall could tell him, but Wolf found it comforting to talk to someone who had attempted the same journey. They discussed Wolf's progress, and Niall tried not to sound discouraging.

Finally Wolf had learned enough forms to get to the first lesser demon. They fought, Wolf won. It was hard, but nothing that Wolf could not handle. He felt a little of his strength and determination return to him, perhaps that was the key. The second lesser demon wasn't that hard either, and it opened a way to a new island. As Wolf stepped through the portal, he found Morrigan argueing with her mother.

"You are not my mother - begone, demon!" Morrigan was having none of it.

"Impertinent, as always!" Flemeth replied and slapped Morrigan across the face. "You should know your place, girl!"

"Ah, that's more like it, but that's too little, too late, demon!" Morrigan laughed in her face. "You are nothing like my mother!" She attacked the demon and soon it was defeated.

"Interesting," Morrigan turned to Wolf. "I've been attacking her since I got here, but it is only now that I could defeat her... Why is it I wonder?"

Wolf was about to say something, but Morrigan dissolved into thin air before she could even finish her sentence.

"Does that mean she is free?" He wondered. There was nothing else to do on that island, so he pressed on.

The next lesser demon was significantly harder to defeat than the first two. It was a powerful spirit, and Wolf's sword wasn't having much of an effect.

"You do not die outright in this domain," the spirit told him when he lay on the ground, defeated. "The Sloth is in no rush. There is no escape and resistance is futile, mortal."

After a while Wolf was able to get up, but he felt weaker than before. Perhaps that demon was too strong for him. He went away and tried another island, learning another form - that of a spirit.

"Why don't you use your new forms in battle?" Niall suggested when Wolf told him of his defeat. "What have you got? A burning man, a golem, a spirit... perhaps they are not just for opening doors."

"How far did you come, Niall?" Wolf was wondering whether he had enough strength to do it all.

"I defeated four lesser demons, learned all the forms... but I took too long trying to figure it out, and the Sloth had seeped too much of my strength by then. I could not continue." He smiled with sadness. "I was just getting defeated by every spirit I met."

"That's too bad, I am sorry," Wolf shook his head.

"Go. You are not done yet," Niall urged him on.

Speed was the key. Wolf was making steady progress, with ample use of the mouse form to find shortcuts and to scout the area before engaging angry spirits. He could not avoid the fights altogether, but stealth gave him an edge. He was switching from form to form depending on the enemy, and felt himself quite the mage for doing so. Wolf Asgarsen - a mage? He never pictured himself as one. Back in Tamriel he learned a little magic, just healing and shielding, but wasn't good at it and preferred to rely on potions instead. But here, these transformations were something else.

Finally the central rune on the map lit up, that final island must house the Sloth Demon. Wolf took a deep breath and stepped through the portal.

Sun's Dawn, 3E387 - Demons

The Sloth Demon was far stronger than the lesser demons that Wolf fought previously. He lost the battle so quickly, that the demon just laughed.

"Come back if you want to try again, mortal," the demon smirked. "If that's what makes you happy, I'll oblige."

Morrigan appeared out of nowhere - she wasn't free yet, she was being held on another island with nothing to do.

"Not even a demon to bother me, can you imagine?!" She ran up to Wolf, helping him up. "So, what happened to the others?"

"I haven't found them yet, I went straight here," Wolf confessed, realising that it was a mistake. "Can you come with me? It'll be easier going together."

Morrigan tried to follow, but when Wolf stepped through a portal, she wasn't with him on the other side.

"Got to do it myself then," he sighed.

Releasing Wynn and Sten wasn't hard, now that he had learned all the forms. They too vanished when their respective demons were defeated, and Wolf hoped to find them all on the central island. Perhaps together they could overcome the Sloth Demon.

...

"That was one hell of a battle," Wolf got up after yet another knock-out. "Did we get him this time?"

"We did, finally," Wynn nodded, still casting healing magic at everyone. "It's a good thing you don't die in battle in this domain! We would have been dead long ago."

"We can still find ourselves dead," Wolf objected. "The Sloth Demon lies defeated, but we are still in the Fade. How do we get out? We should go back to Niall, may be he has an idea."

Niall was amazed to see them all.

"Wow, you've really done it!" He turned to Wolf. "I felt it - the earth shook! Did you defeat the Sloth Demon?"

"We did, eventually," Wolf nodded. "But now what? We're still here, trapped as before."

"Yes, that is a problem," Niall nodded. "Demons are immortal, of course... You defeated it, but he isn't dead. His realm still holds, even without his presence or that of the lesser demons. It's just a bit safer here for now, that's all. But..."

"Wait... So what are you saying?" Wolf shook his head in disbelief. "That there's no way out, no matter what we do?!"

"That's... that's what the Sloth would like you to believe..." Niall smiled. "I've been thinking about that while you were gone. What would happen if you were to defeat the Sloth? Apparently nothing. But I believe it is an illusion."

"So there must be a way out after all," Wynn nodded. "But it is masked. The locks are gone but the door is hidden..."

"We are in the Fade," Morrigan joined in. "A realm of spirits. Our bodies are of course still back in Mundus... We have to return our spirits into our bodies, and now that the Sloth lies defeated, he cannot hold us. We should not wait too long though, for he will rise again."

"Alright, so what do we do?" Wolf looked at the three mages in turn. "Stop talking in riddles, I am no mage, I don't understand how to return my spirit into my body!"

"You just have to will it," Niall said quietly. "Now that the locks are gone, that's all that it takes. You have to want to leave."

"I certainly want to leave!" Sten said loudly, having spoken for the first time. "We quanari are not permitted to enter the Fade! We burn incense by the bed to prevent it happening during sleep... Of course I was forced into it this time, but I am keen to correct this as soon as I can! So I am going!" He finished with emphasis, there was a puff of smoke and Sten disappeared.

"See - his will was strong," Niall nodded. "So go. There are still demons to fight in the tower."

"And you? Aren't you coming with us?" Wolf looked into his face but the answer was clear - Niall was too weak.

"I'd love to, believe me," he smiled. "But the Sloth had already seeped too much of my strength. Even if I did manage to leave now, I would die in Mundus - my body has withered along with my spirit. I prefer to stay here and dissolve in time, and perhaps help someone else, who knows..."

"I am so sorry, Niall..."

There wasn't anything else they could do or say, except may be one last thing.

"When you are back in Mundus, find my body," Niall suddenly said with renewed strength. "It should be in the same hall... the Sloth does not move much. There's a scroll in my pocket - it disrupts blood magic, when the mage is trying to turn another mage into an abomination to fight for him... Oh yes, I know what is going on. I was going to confront Uldred, but by the time I found that scroll in the library, the tower was already overrun... and my companions dead... But you - you can do it!"

"You found the Litany of Andrala?" Wynn looked up in surprise. "But that was lost to the ages, believed destroyed..."

"Well, it wasn't," Niall smiled. "But it took a long time to find. Too long. Take it and use it - good luck to you!"

...

"Niall gave his life to find the one thing that will stop this horror," Wynn picked up the scroll from Niall's body. "We must not waste this chance."

"Niall had companions," Wolf corrected her. "They too gave their lives for this. It's time to end it."

They didn't have far to go - there was just one floor left to explore, the very top of the tower, which had a single hall. Uldred had to be there.

He was. Surrounded by demons and abominations, Uldred was in the process of converting senior mages to his side. He'd summon a demon, subdue a mage with the help of the other demons, and allow the newly arrived demon to possess the mage, thus turning him into an abomination. He believed the abominations to be his servants... but even Wolf could see that it was only an illusion.

"Loghain will have the strongest army the world had ever seen!" He cried, madness shining in his eyes. "An army of demons! All at my command!"

"You cannot control the demons, fool!" An old mage replied defiantly. He was kneeling, his hands tied behind his back. "The demons are controlling you every step of the way!"

"You do not believe me, First Enchanter! But you will! I'm keeping you for last! But you too will join my army!"

It was then that Uldred noticed Wolf and his party entering the room.

"And who do we have here?" He cried in surprise. "Two warriors and two mages - have you come to stop me? I recognise you, Wynn, but who are your companions?" He laughed with derision. "But actually, I don't care! Join the queue! You too can be useful in Loghain's demon army!"

There was no talking to Uldred, and Wolf attacked.

"Remember the Litany of Andrala!" Wynn called out to him, trying to shout over the noise of the magical explosions. "Use it when you notice a mage being raised into the air to be made into an abomination! Use it, even if it kills that mage!"

"Use it - how?" Wolf tried to ask, but the battle was too intense for conversations. Had Wynn forgotten he was no mage? Why did he have the Litany while they had two mages in the group? Why didn't Wynn keep the Litany and used it at the right time?

But there was no more time for questions. Wolf had to watch the battlefield, as well as fight the demons, the abominations, the walking corpses and even some darkspawn that appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly he saw a luminous circle forming around one of the senior mages who was kneeling against the wall with his hands tied up, just like the First Enchanter. "That's one of the victims," Wolf decided. "And Uldred is now trying to convert him into an abomination. Use the Litany to stop him... Err... Use - how?" But with every moment he was hesitating, the mage was being lifted higher and higher into the air, and there - he already started the transformation into a grotesque fleshy corpse that was the shape of Uldred's abominations in Mundus.

"Use the Litany!!!" Wynn shouted. "Now!!!"

"Alright! It's a scroll... and what do you do with scrolls? You read them!" Wolf decided to try the most obvious thing. He backed against the wall, away from battle, sheathed his sword and unrolled the scroll. The words were in some old, foreign language, but the script was familiar, so he just read them out as best he could, without understanding any of it. The luminous circle around the mage faded and vanished, and the mage fell to the ground, dead. He had gone too far in his transformation - his body had already withered. "Next time I have to do it sooner!" Wolf thought with regret. From that point on he watched the battle closer, fought less and focused on reading the Litany in time.

The battle was ferocious. Uldred may not have controlled the demons in the room, but they were keen on fighting anyway, so it looked like he controlled them. It encouraged him beyond measure. He turned into a huge ogre and did great damage to Wolf's party. Fortunately, he had to turn back into a man when he wanted to make another mage into an abomination, and during that time Wolf's companions had a chance to attack Uldred without the danger of being crushed, while Wolf had to watch his actions carefully and read the Litany just in time to save the victim... And since the demons, corpses and darkspawn in the room did not stop their assault during that time, chaos was complete.

Yet eventually Uldred lay defeated. With his death there was no further danger of seeing captive mages being turned into abominations, and Wolf could rejoin the battle. Demons and corpses continued the fight, and it was painfully obvious that they didn't care in the slightest whether Uldred was dead or alive.

Sten was the first to fall. Although he was the strongest of them all by far, fighting demons required more than strength - it required magic. His mighty battleaxe was only doing small damage to them, distracting them more than anything. It took a while for Sten to realise and accept it, and once he focused on the corpses and darkspawn instead, he started making much more of a difference. However, the demons realised it too. They focused their attack on him, and soon knocked him out.

Wolf did better, partly because he "missed" the first half of the battle trying to keep out and watching Uldred. He was more agile than Sten, and managed to avoid most of the demons' spells. His experience in the Fade was now helping him navigate that battle of spirits. Yet he too became overpowered and knocked out. Fortunately by then the corpses and darkspawn were largely defeated, and Wynn and Morrigan just had the demons to contend with. "Just" the demons...

"You need healing!" Wynn shouted, seeing Morrigan bleed. "Wait - I'll help you!"

"Don't waste your magic on me!" Morrigan shouted back, casting a complex spell. "I'll take life from the dead... You can lecture me on the evil of necromancy later!!" A vortex opened around her, siphoning life energy from the many corpses in the hall, as well as from Wolf and Sten who were not actually dead.

"You'll kill them with your spells, witch!" Wynn noticed it and shouted in anger. "Necromancy makes no distinction between dead and unconscious!"

"They can take it!" Morrigan retorted. "Or else I'll bring them back afterwards! Watch out for that Sloth!!"

A demon greatly resembling the Sloth Demon that they had fought not long ago, rose from the floor, appearing out of nowhere. Was this invasion ever going to end? With the Veil torn, was there anything to stop an endless flood of demons coming through?

"Untie me!" The First Enchanter called to them. "I'll close the tear in the Veil while you battle the demons!"

With Uldred dead, his magical ties on the First Enchanter and the remaining senior mages were broken, and only physical ties remained. Wynn quickly cut his ties and he helped the other mages on their feet, and together they mustered enough power to close the tear in the Veil while Wynn and Morrigan battled the remaining demons.

Yet it wasn't done in a blink of an eye, closing the tear took time, and Wynn got overwhelmed and fell, knocked out. "That's what happens when you focus on restoration only!" Morrigan swore. "You need offensive spells too! Like this one!" A huge blast of fire erupted around her. With all her companions knocked out and the First Enchanter standing out of the way, she could finally use her area spells. They took a lot of magicka, true, but were also very effective. "Aha!" She laughed, seeing the demons cringe. "You didn't like that, did you?"

"Use your anger!!!" A glowing red Rage Demon rose from the floor before her - it was immune to fire and took the place of the others. Besides, it was feeding off the anger of its opponents, recovering some of its strength with each angry hit.

"Ugh!!" Morrigan prepared an ice spell. "I've got something for you!" The spell hit and the Rage Demon shrank at first, but then recovered, glowing brighter than before.

"Calm your anger!" The First Enchanter noticed it and shouted to Morrigan. "It's a Rage Demon!"

"I know it's a Rage Demon!" Morrigan retorted angrily, then bit her lip. A Rage Demon. Quite. "How am I supposed to fight it without getting angry?" She muttered to herself but made an effort to calm down. "Right. I am just going to unleash winter onto this hall..." An iced area spell centered on herself rather than the demon did the trick. It caught the demon in its circle, but there wasn't enough anger in the room to restore it, and it shriveled like a mushroom in a drought.

The remaining spirits were easily dispatched. The battle was over. The Veil had been restored, and no new demons were getting through. Wolf, Sten and Wynn eventually got up from their knock-outs.

"And this is what blood magic can do, and this is why we forbid it," the First Enchanter turned to Wolf. "I know that Grey Wardens do not put restrictions on their mages - the same as many other countries, in fact - but here in Ferelden we have strict rules. Blood magic is absolutely forbidden."

"I see," Wolf nodded, looking around at all the corpses and the bleeding fleshy growth decorating the walls. "And that is why you were so easily overthrown when a small group of mages decided to disagree."

"That... is also true," the First Enchanter gave Wolf a long, penetrating look. "And that is why... ah... but you are not a mage. Keep my papers to yourself, and all will be well."

"Your papers?"

"You have gone through my office, no doubt..."

The First Enchanter winked, and Wolf realised that some of the papers mentioning blood magic might have been more important than he had thought.

"You are a Grey Warden, and therefore you are here to ask us mages for help against the Blight, is it not so?" The First Enchanter assumed a business-like tone. "Yes, I am aware of the treaties. Of course the mages will help. As will the templars, leave it to me. With the Tower of Magi back under our control, things will soon return to normal... with the exception of all those who fell in the fighting, of course..." He sighed with regret.

They were walking through the halls of the tower where the fleshy sacks of demonic growth already started to shrink, but the dead bodies of mages and templars remained unchanged. Yet there were also survivors. Wounded and left for dead, or just lucky to somehow have been overlooked by the demons, some mages and templars were still alive. When our party reached the entrance hall, the Knight Commander froze in disbelief.

"I am not a demon, it's the real me, Gregor," the First Enchanter addressed him and touched his hand. "Feel it."

The Knight Commander took a moment, but then sighed a sigh of relief.

"Indeed, Irving, welcome back! Is it all over?"

"The Veil has been repaired," the First Enchanter nodded. "We have many wounded and even more dead... but the survivors are our first priority."

The Knight Commander didn't need to be asked twice. He was already dispatching his templars into the tower in search of survivors.

"So the Rite of Annulment..?" Wolf had to make sure.

"Is annulled," the Knight Commander smiled, tearing up an official looking scroll with a large red seal of the King of Ferelden. "The mages and the templars will not join Loghain." He smirked, noticing Wolf's surprise. "Oh yes, I read the papers... I do know what that rebellion was really about. We will not turn on Grey Wardens, that I promise you."

With the matters thus settled, Wolf was almost ready to leave. One more request still remained.

"I would like to ask your aid to free a young boy from possession, First Enchanter," he said politely. "Arl Eamon's son at Castle Redcliffe is possessed by a demon..."

"And you wish to save the boy?" The First Enchanter interrupted, fire in his eyes. "Of course... yes... a mage can go into the Fade and fight the demon there... yes... We may not be in the best shape just now, but we can do this... We'll depart as soon as we can!"

"Thank you..." Wolf started but Wynn interrupted him.

"I wish to ask leave to follow the Grey Wardens, First Enchanter," she said firmly. "They need my help."

"Err..." Wolf turned to her in surprise.

"You need my help of a healer, you have no healer in the party," she cut him off. "I may not be a spring chicken any longer, but I am not dead yet either. I am coming with you."

"Is anyone ever going to ask us first before declaring they are coming along?" Alistair joined them. "Another mage?" He shot a glance at Wolf but remembered their conversation earlier and didn't continue.

"Well, what say you, Grey Warden?" The First Enchanter turned to Wolf. "Wynn has never been one to sit in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere..."

"We should be honoured to have her along, of course," Wolf smiled formally and politely, making sure that everyone understood his position. "It is true, we do need a healer. We have a long road ahead..."

And with that he said his goodbyes and the party crossed the lake to their camp, everyone being in need of rest and patching up before tackling the next demon.

Lucien & Lena, planning to get married in six weeks. "Besides, your friends would like to offer their moral support on the day you pledge yourself to the terrible Lucien Lachance" -- that's a great line.

In the next chapter Lena mentions spending 27,000 septims on paperwork. Which lends a clue as to how much money she's got. Always find these things sort of interesting, I do.

Eh, she says she's broke, but she'll earn it back somehow. Always easy to earn in these games, for adventurers, anyway.

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=340284

I think they are not too different in that respect though. Lena just looks younger.


I remember when I was writing that chapter! We've been having troubles with a building application here in real life! With fees and all! So I took it out on the story! Well, it fitted.

First Seed, 3E387 - Blood and magic

When Wolf and his party finally got to their camp after their ordeal at the Tower of Magi, everyone was much too tired to talk, let alone to go through the stuff they picked up along the way. It was therefore decided that the following day would be spent resting, for no one was in any shape to battle more demons just then.

As Wolf was sorting bits and pieces that they found in the tower, he made sure to set aside and out of sight any papers that he had collected. Some would have come from the First Enchanter's office, others from random places in the tower. Although Wolf wasn't a mage, he felt that most of it was about politics rather than magic, so decided to go through it himself, not even involving Alistair, who had proven himself to be very biased when it came to mages.

Perhaps the most remarkable discovery turned out to be that of Flemeth's Grimoir.

"Morrigan would like to see this, I am certain," Wolf thought leafing through the pages. It wasn't about magic as such, it explained how Flemeth stayed alive for so long - several thousands of years, if the Grimoir was to be believed. According to the text, whenever she felt that her body was becoming old and withered, she would take an orphan girl and raise her as her daughter. Then, when the girl became a woman, Flemeth would take over her body, thus renewing herself. What happened to the girl's soul, the Grimoir did not clarify. "The soul was either possessed or devoured," Wolf reasoned. "Flemeth didn't seem like she had an army of souls under her possession - and it would have been many, according to this - so then, she devoured them. Hmm..."

"Wolf wasn't sure whether he believed it, exactly. He was also not sure why this Grimoir was lying around in the First Enchanter's office, not hidden and not locked away. Surely, a secret of this magnitude would not be left unprotected. He decided to give it to Morrigan and see what she would do.

Morrigan nearly jumped for joy, as uncharacteristic as it looked. She grabbed the book eagerly and immediately started studying it. Wolf left her alone. Their next task - that of freeing Arl Eamon's son from possession - required a mage, and Morrigan had been eager to do it, but she was also going to make a deal with the demon for her own benefit, and Wolf wasn't so sure it was a good idea. He'd had his fill of demons for the time being. "Perhaps Morrigan will be too distracted reading her mother's Grimoir and skip this trip," he thought and smiled to himself.

But whom should he send into the Fade then? It had to be a mage, so either Wynn ("NO!!") or... ah. He could not explain why he didn't want to ask Wynn to do it, but something about her put him on edge. She was too correct, too righteous, too rigid somehow. As if she had sinned and was now intent on redeeming herself... Wolf thought it very odd, but at the same time they did need a healer, so he figured things would clear up in time. For the moment, however, he was unsure how to proceed with the ritual for the boy.

"Whom would you send into the Fade, Alistair?" He asked, taking Alistair completely by surprise. "To fight the demon that possesses Arl Eamon's son," he smiled, explaining. "Remember? We need a mage for that."

"Oh, yes, that's a good one," Alistair looked puzzled. "It is by far the best solution, no doubt... but yeah, a mage would have to do it... which is to say... err..."

"You don't trust any of them," Wolf finished Alistair's sentence for him. "I am at a loss as well."

"The First Enchanter is bringing several mages with him though, isn't he?" Alistair was pondering the question. "Perhaps one of them could do it?"

They could not solve it sitting in camp, and decided to go to Castle Redcliffe the following day and hope for some fresh ideas on the ground.

...

"We brought lyrium and we have several mages with us ready to start the ritual," the First Enchanter greeted Wolf. "Whom do you wish to send into the Fade? It can be anyone, as long as it is a mage... And, well, you have to trust them."

Wolf looked at the people in the hall. The First Enchanter was an old and wise wizard and would have been perfect for this, if in fact he could go. But he had to stay behind and conduct the ritual. "He is actually also too frail just now," Wolf noticed. "That ordeal in the tower took too much out of him..." Wolf looked at the other senior mages that came from the tower, and thought the same. They were all there, in the top room, held by Uldred, their souls were frayed as the demons were feeding off them... "It is a miracle they are even here and ready to perform a ritual of this magnitude," Wolf shook his head. "On another day, sure, any of them could go into the Fade, but today... No, not them." Wynn was looking eager, trying to catch his attention... Morrigan was lost in Flemeth's Grimoir that she brought with her "to pass the time while we wait", as she put it. There was another mage in the room though - the one that they found in the dungeons, the one that had poisoned Arl Eamon. He just stood there, behind everyone else, but his hands weren't bound, meaning that he had been behaving himself. Wolf walked over to him.

"Walk with me," he said. "What is your name?"

"What?" The mage looked up in surprise. "Err... I am Anders... But why..? I think I am going to be executed as soon as we free the boy. I've been preparing myself..."

"Walk with me," Wolf repeated, leading him out into the courtyard.

They were out of earshot of everyone, yet Wolf continued walking - he wanted to be out of sight as well. Then they found a quiet spot under the trees and sat down for a talk.

"I have been reading some papers about blood magic," Wolf started. "I am no mage, and I am new to this land, I've never heard of it before. We have no blood magic in Tamriel, that I know of." He paused, but Anders didn't say anything, and Wolf continued. "Grey Wardens do not forbid it, so in my eyes, apart from poisoning Arl Eamon, you've done nothing wrong." Again he paused, and again Anders said nothing. "I want to ask you to go into the Fade and confront the demon that's possessing that little boy."

"You what..?!" Anders was so surprised, it took a moment for him to digest what he was hearing. "I am not a qualified mage, are you aware of that?" He squinted. "Still an apprentice... The First Enchanter kept pushing back my Harrowing..."

"The First Enchanter was trying to save your life," Wolf smirked. "Oh, he knew full well what was going on in his tower. I've seen the papers. You're qualified... more than qualified for all you've been through. Minus the poisoning, of course, that was dumb."

"Tell me about it," Anders sighed. "I fell for it like a schoolboy... which technically speaking I still am..."

"Are you aware of the rebellion in the Tower?" Wolf changed the subject.

"I've heard talk..." Anders nodded. "I wasn't a part of it, if that's what you're asking..."

"I know you weren't," Wolf nodded. "I cannot guarantee what will happen to you after we free the boy. In their eyes you're still a blood mage, a maleficar, with sins to overshadow the poisoning of the Arl. I suspect Teagan will want to keep you here in the castle until we revive Arl Eamon somehow... But after that... We'll talk again then."

"I understand," Anders nodded.

"So, will you do it?" Wolf squinted and Anders straightened his back.

"I'll do it," he said firmly. "And no deals. I went so wrong with a human, I expect it would be a hundred times worse with a demon, were I to make a deal. If the First Enchanter allows it, I'll go into the Fade."

"For once, the First Enchanter is not the one calling all the shots," Wolf winked. "Let's go and surprise them, Anders."

...

"Anders will go into the Fade and confront the demon," Wolf announced when they were back in the castle.

"WHAT?!!!"

Everyone was talking at once. Has the Grey Warden lost his mind? Does he not know that it is a Blood Mage he's sending into the Fade? A BLOOD MAGE who summoned that demon in the first place? A MALEFICAR SUPERIOR just waiting to destroy them all? A MASTERMIND unlike any other?!!!

When the shouting finally stopped, Wolf repeated his decision.

"He is none of those things, and you know it, Lady Arlesse," he addressed the mother of the boy who had been shouting the loudest. "Last time we spoke you were ready to hand him your life to perform a blood magic ritual to free your son. You know full well that he is not a maleficar. Stop that hypocrisy or I might take your life myself."

That remark made everyone turn around and stare at Wolf.

"I was a soldier before I became a Grey Warden," he looked into the faces of the civilians around him. "Even Alistair does not know what that means, since he never completed his training. I shall do what it takes to fulfill my mission, which is to defeat the Blight. To that end we need the help of Arl Eamon and his troops, and this is why we have to save his son. Your role in this is only circumstantial, Arlesse. Plus, you were the one who made it all possible, and broke the law as well. If you now stand in my way, I shall have to remove you."

"Wow!" Morrigan looked up from her mother's Grimoir. Everyone fell silent.

"Do as you choose, Warden," the Arlesse said in a fallen voice and stepped back.

"Are you sure?" The First Enchanter threw a questioning glance at Wolf. "Are you not too trusting in this?"

"I am sure," Wolf confirmed. "Anders goes into the Fade."

"Well... Good luck to you, my student," the First Enchanter turned to Anders, smiled and passed him his own staff. "Take this."

"But..?" Anders was perplexed since only his spirit would enter the Fade, he could not take a staff with him anyway... But what a pity... the First Enchanter's staff..! He took it, and felt a surge of energy and magicka from the enchantment... and something else...

Before he knew it, he stood in the Fade.

...

"So it is done," Teagan shook Wolf's hand when Anders awoke from his trance. "The ritual is over, the First Enchanter assures me it went well, and Conor is back to his old self... not having any memory of the possession. It's just as well, I guess." He smiled, watching the boy play. "But I'm keeping Anders here nevertheless," he said with a frown. "He poisoned Arl Eamon, and is therefore under arrest. No, we won't lock him up again, but he must stay in the castle. If the Arl dies, he will hang for murder."

Wolf agreed and their party returned to the camp for rest.

As soon as they settled down, Morrigan pulled him aside.

"You won't believe what I found out!!" She exclaimed, excited and worried at the same time. "From my mother's Grimoir!"

"Well, what did you find out?" Wolf tried not to let her notice that he had already read that Grimoir himself.

"She is only raising me in order to possess my body! She is essentially going to kill me and just use my flesh! Arghhhh!!!!"

"Ugh, that's... err... disturbing," Wolf struggled to find the right word.

"And then some!!" Morrigan was fuming. "The nerve!!"

"Well, she is the Witch of the Wilds..."

"Hmm..."

"Question is: what are you going to do about it?" Wolf squinted. That was a test of Morrigan's character.

"What to do about it? Oh, but there's just one thing to do about it: you must kill her."

"Huh?" He should have expected it, yet he didn't.

"I obviously can't do it because she'd immediately possess me 'ahead of schedule', so to speak, and I'd be nowhere still. Someone else has to kill her, that is you." She looked triumphant, as if Flemeth already lay dead... and that made her very attractive indeed.

"So, you want me to go and kill Flemeth?" Wolf repeated slowly. "Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds? That Flemeth? A thousand year old being that is probably immortal anyway?"

"Oh, she is not immortal," Morrigan brushed aside Wolf's remark like an annoying fly. "That's just what she wants you to believe... But yes, I want you to kill that Flemeth," she smiled again. It is remarkable how charming she could be, if she wanted to. "Will you do it?"

"Well..." Wolf started, not taking his eyes off her. "Umm..." She kept smiling. "Let's see now..." More smiling. "Well, alright, I'll see what I can do," he finally agreed.

"Excellent!" Morrigan beamed at him. "Don't delay, there's no telling what she'll do. Bring me her spellbook, that is her real Grimoir... it should be in the hut somewhere, she never let me read it properly. Then I'll know that she's dead."

Wolf walked to the central campfire scratching his head. Kill Flemeth... Somehow that seemed like a much greater challenge than all the demons taken together.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Those of you who know Dragon Age Origins, will have realised that I changed the name of the mage whom Wolf sent into the fade at Castle Redcliffe. Yes, the mage whom they found locked up in the dungeons, the one that poisoned Arl Eamon... Since Bioware never developed the original character but they did develop Anders, I decided to let Anders come in early. This will make a lot more sense for my story.

As for the original mage character... In Lena's story we've met him already, some 250 years later than the year 3E387 when Wolf Asgarsen was sending a mage into the Fade to fight a demon. So you see, that other guy wasn't even born yet. I felt that the two mage characters had so much in common, that a substitution like that was only natural. After all, who is to say how things really went?

First Seed, 3E387 - Loyalty

The following morning Wolf went to see Flemeth, only bringing his faithful dog with him. Had he gone mad? Perhaps not entirely.

"So, the Grey Warden returns," Flemeth greeted him, noting the lack of company. "Have you come to kill me?"

"This happened before, hasn't it?" Wolf smiled.

"Not with Morrigan, but before that - yes," Flemeth laughed. "Let me guess - lovely Morrigan discovered something shocking, and you are her knight in shining armour who is supposed to save her from imminent annihilation. Am I close?" She smirked. "Oh, but this is a tale that Flemeth had heard many times before, a tale that she herself had many times retold. So what are you going to do?"

"I have no wish to battle you, and even less to kill you," Wolf said calmly. "I think you can see that. Even though, in theory, if I survived and won, I could in fact devour your soul. I've never done such a thing, mind, but by all accounts that's what Dragonborns do."

"Perhaps I should have left you on the top of that tower in Ostagar then," Flemeth pulled a long face. "But yes, tell is, Dragonborns are a bane for dragons. Of course you would have to defeat me first, which..."

"...is unlikely," Wolf nodded. "Yet I need Morrigan, and I think she is more than just a hedge witch."

"Well, she is my daughter..." Flemeth smiled thinly. "Adoptive, but still. Yes, she is quite special. Which is why I am willing to let her go. This body will serve me long enough to raise another daughter..." She patted her apron. "Or perhaps I'll find another way... What does Morrigan want as proof of my demise? My spellbook, I suppose? Then take it - it's in the hut. I had prepared a new robe for her as well - exactly like her own creation, but with a better enchantment... It dampens her will a little as well - just to take the edge off, not to harm. You might find it useful..." She smiled, then laughed. "Oh, Morrigan is coming of age! It is not how I envisaged it... no, it is better."

"What will you do when I leave?" Wolf was watching Flemeth, realising that her appearance of an old woman was just an illusion... But what was underneath?

"I shall leave here," Flemeth shrugged. "The woods are completely overrun with darkspawn now, there is no point in me staying anyway. A sea of darkspawn can swallow a dragon with ease... The Blight threatens me the same as everyone. Not every dragon is the same..."

"I've met the Archdemon, I know," Wolf nodded. "Thank you, Flemeth, and goodbye... Will we meet again?"

"I have no doubt," Flemeth smiled.

...

"Here is your mother's spellbook," Wolf handed an old hand-written tome to Morrigan. "You are free."

"You've done it!" She beamed, grabbing the book and starting reading it straight away. "Yes, this is the book I meant! The real thing... A Spider transformation grows in power with the mage performing it... Indeed! I always suspected it was the case... yet my spider isn't as deadly as I would have liked... Hmm..." She walked off, completely absorbed in her study. Wolf shook his head and left her new dress in her tent. It looked exactly the same as her old one... would she notice the difference? He was certain she would.

...

"We have to go to the capital and look for the scholar who researched that sacred artefact that could save Arl Eamon," Alistair sat next to Wolf. "We can't really leave him in limbo like that... who knows how long he can stay alive that way..."

"...now that the demon is slain?" Wolf looked at him sideways.

"Demon? What demon?"

"The demon that was possessing the boy... That was the deal: Arl Eamon would stay alive for as long as the boy was possessed."

"Oh... I think I missed that part," Alistair looked confused. "Was the demon keeping its word? Surely, you cannot trust demons?"

"A demon will trick you, that's for sure, but once they give their word, they keep it," Wolf nodded. "The First Enchanter told me. Something to do with magic bonds... They cannot break their promise, it appears."

"Well, that's good, right?" Alistair looked up.

"May be. But that demon is no more. Let's hope Arl Eamon won't die without it."

"So the more reason to hurry to the capital!" Alistair exclaimed. "What..? You don't look convinced..."

"Do Grey Wardens have a base in Ferelden?" Wolf suddenly asked, changing the topic.

"Err... no... not any more," Alistair shook his head. "There's a grand base somewhere up North, but not in Ferelden. There are Grey Wardens in every kingdom."

"Ever heard of Soldier's Peak?" Wolf squinted, passing Alistair a letter. "That chap apparently found an old fortress there, still North, but not that far North. It used to be a Grey Wardens' base centuries ago... but it's been abandoned after something unmentionable happened, and it is now overrun by ghostly apparitions..."

"And that unmentionable wouldn't begin with the letter B, would it?" Alistair squinted at Wolf, scanning the letter.

"Most likely," Wolf nodded. "Blood magic and demons is what we will likely find there, as well as darkspawn of course - darkspawn sauce is everywhere."

"We should probably go there then," Alistair nodded. "But first, I want to return to Ostagar... Yeah, it's overrun by darkspawn, I know. But their army has retreated for now, I can sense it... I want to find the King's body, give him a burial... Find Duncan's body too..." His voice trailed off, but Wolf didn't need convincing, he wanted to return there too. Why - he could not explain.

"Are you two making battle plans?" Leliana joined them with a pack of letters. "We've got mail! Remarkable how even in the times of the Blight, the courier service is still operating..." she mused. "These are mostly from the Chantry," she passed them to Wolf. "Requests to help refugees. If you ask me, those refugees are probably dead already, but not going doesn't seem right either..."

"We'll go," Wolf nodded. "It's on the way. Ostagar first, it's just to the South from here, then turn around and travel North, and look - all these places align quite nicely between Ostagar and Soldier's Peak..."

"What's at Soldier's Peak?" Leliana looked up in surprise.

"Home, I hope," Wolf smiled.

...

The next week or so was spent looking in on all those refugees that Chantry asked about. They went to Ostagar first, as planned. It was covered an bodies and they found the King's body as well as Duncan's, recovered some armour and weapons and made a pyre for the King and for Duncan. Not that the other fallen didn't deserve a pyre, but they could not do it for everyone.

"The King's armour is almost pristine," Alistair was examining the pieces after they reclaimed them from darkspawn. "He didn't get much use out of it..."

"Or it wasn't of much use against the darkspawn," Wolf muttered under his breath. "They got overwhelmed," he said aloud. "It was all over fairly quickly, by the look of things..."

They collected what was still of use, with Alistair taking the King's sword and Wolf taking Duncan's sword and dagger. Neither of them could wear the King's armour that was too heavy, but they took it anyway. They could not stand seeing it fall to darkspawn.

They met more and more darkspawn along the way, the South was well and truly overrun. But even so, those were just stray groups, not the main army of the Blight. They were glad to find some of the refugees still alive and fighting, against all odds. With the Grey Wardens' help, the refugees could now continue their journey North, and may be even reach some place of relative safety.

One group of refugees, however, turned out to be an ambush. A dozen mercenaries attacked them from every angle, but despite their superior numbers, they didn't last very long. The biggest challenge presented a single rogue who seemed to be able to disappear and emerge behind them, backstabbing and poisoning, again and again. But finally, also he was defeated.

"This must be the leader, don't kill him yet," Wolf stopped his companions from finishing off the rogue. "I want some answers."

"Well, you can safely kill me now, for I am already dead," he looked up at them from the ground, not able to rise on his own. "I failed in my mission."

"Your mission?" Wolf crouched before him. "Who sent you? Tell me about it."

"I am an assassin of the Antivan Crows," the rogue answered with a little bow. He was an elf, Wolf noticed. "You've never heard of us? Well, then you must be from a foreign land... which would explain your accent," he nodded to himself. "The Antivan Crows is the most successful and the most expensive and exclusive assassins bureau in Thedas," he explained. "We hardly ever fail, today was really an exception. But then again, we don't normally get contracts on Grey Wardens."

"I see," Wolf looked him over. His armour was of a very good make, and his weapons were even better. "The Antivan Crows are clearly not in financial difficulties," he smirked. "And you are well paid. But who sent you? Do you know?" Wolf realised that assassins did not usually get all the details of a contract, so he would not have been surprised if the elf before him could not tell him who the contract giver was. He had a pretty good idea already, anyway.

"I know, I had to get his signature myself," the elf smiled. "The current King of Ferelden... Well, King Regent or something... Loghain, I think was the name. You have some powerful enemies, Warden."

"Not surprising," Wolf nodded, exchanging a glance with Alistair. "But you failed. What now?"

"To the Crows I am dead already," the elf smirked. "We are not allowed to fail - we are supposed to die trying. Were I to return to Antiva now, the Crows would kill me themselves. So... since you haven't killed me yet... I offer to join you. You are going after the Blight, are you not? That is what Grey Wardens do. I'll join you in your fight which is better than being eliminated by the Crows."

"You are not loyal to the Crows, then," Alistair was looking at the elf with disdain. "How can we be sure that you won't kill us in our sleep?"

"Loyalty is an interesting concept," the elf smiled. "I didn't choose to join them - they bought me on the slave market when I was eleven. They got their money worth many times over - I am pretty good, if I say so myself. And now that I failed, they will kill me, should I return. I have no reason to kill you in your sleep because this contract is already forfeit, word of your continued existence will soon reach the contract giver and he will demand a retry or a refund. In either case, my life is forfeit as well. Being in your company, however, would afford me some protection... So yes, you can be sure that you are safe from me."

"Hmm... I see," Alistair was trying to remain objective, with little success. "But to accept an assassin into our group... that's a sure sign that we're desperate! Do we really have to?"

"If you don't want him to join us, then kill him now," Wolf turned to Alistair. "That shouldn't be too hard. He did attack us first."

"Oh... umm... err..." Alistair backed off. "That does seem a bit extreme..."

"Why? He is an assassin with a contract on our lives," Wolf shrugged. "I am not willing to release him. Either he comes with us, or we kill him. Your choice."

Alistair paled.

"He comes with us," he said meekly.

"Very well, assassin," Wolf turned to the elf, helping him up. "What's your name?"

"Zevran, at your service," the elf gave a little bow. "I am your man until further notice... Oh, I won't stab you in your sleep, you can be sure of that."

First Seed, 3E387 - Soldier's Peak

When Wolf and his party finally arrived at the Soldier's Peak, they found the fortress abandoned with nothing going on. Yet a strange feeling of foreboding made everyone uncomfortable.

"This fortress has been abandoned for over three hundred years," the fellow who called them there explained. "My grand-grand-grandmother or something was the Commander of the Grey Wardens here. According to history books, Grey Wardens had rebelled against the King, and the King had ordered the Wardens' elimination."

"Sounds familiar," Alistair smirked.

"Yeah, except that we never rebelled against the King, remember?" Wolf objected. "But please, continue," he turned to Levi Dryden, their guide.

"Well, that king was a tyrant - history made its ruling," he picked up his story. "But many think that the Grey Wardens still should have stayed out of politics. The king had ordered a seige of this fortress, returning months later when the supplies had run thin. It wasn't easy by any account, but the king's forces prevailed and the fortress fell... with every Grey Warden slaughtered. The books don't say how many of the king's men fell in that battle, but I reckon many times more than the number of Grey Wardens killed... But that isn't why we, the Drydens, have been dragged through dirt for the past three hundred years. Rumour has it that the Wardens had summoned demons, or used blood magic, or both, I don't really understand it, but the point was they did something unmentionable that decent people just don't do. And my grand-grandmother knew about it, possibly even ordered it... Which is why her name is vilified, and our whole family with her. I hope we can find some proof that she was none of those things, so the name of Drydens could be cleared."

"Well, so far nothing is going on here," Alistair shrugged his shoulders, stepping into the courtyard. "No monsters, no demons, no walking dead, no skeletons or wraiths or anything of the sort... Ouch!!!" A walking skeleton hit him from behind. "Where did this come from?!!!"

"It's called magic, Alistair," Wolf smirked, engaging an enraged walking corpse. "They rose from under the earth as soon as you stepped into the circle of the fortress. Every fallen Warden and every fallen soldier of the king's army are here to attack us. But look on the bright side - there's no darkspawn."

The battle was ferocious even without the darkspawn. The numbers of skeletons and walking corpses were astounding, new waves kept rising to replace the defeated ones. But after a while the courtyard was quiet. For some reason Levi Dryden could walk among the corpses and the skeletons and not even one of them ever attacked him, as if he didn't exist.

"Why are they leaving you alone?" Wolf squinted. "It's good, of course, but strange."

"Perhaps they feel the blood connection?" Levi shrugged. "My grand-grand... whoever was one of them... probably still is, somewhere deeper in."

"The veil is very thin here, demons will soon start appearing," Morrigan noted, sniffing the air. "They are attracted to fresh blood, and you are bleeding," she pointed out Alistair's wound. "You've got to bandage that up."

"That won't make much difference to the demons," Wynn objected. "Although it might make a difference to Alistair," she smirked, helping him with the bandage. "Something evil is awaiting us, I can sense it. I can also sense a magical seal around this fortress, which explains why none of these walking corpses made it out. Someone here is still alive and holding up that seal."

"Could a demon do that?" Alistair asked and shivered.

"It could, in theory," Wynn nodded. "But why would they? Something doesn't add up..."

They could not solve it in the courtyard and decided to enter the fortress keep.

They met more undead inside, they had visions of the final battle. None of it explained anything, so they pressed on, exploring every room in search of some tangible clue or record of the events. They found a library, but most books had perished one way or another, including what looked like a logbook. There were no records to be found.

As they moved further, the corpses were replaced by demons, especially in the central hall where, judging by the visions, the main battle took place. They saw the Commander ordering their mage to summon demons for defense. He obeyed, summoning dozens of them at her command. But, the same as what happened in the Tower of Magi, the demons turned on all humans, making no distinction between the Wardens or the king's men. The demons were in control, not the mage who summoned them. Thus everyone perished.

"So the summoning circles are still active, the Veil is still torn," Wynn concluded. "We need to repair it."

"We cannot repair it without reverting the original summoning magic, you know that!" Morrigan objected. "And where is that mage that cast it? Well, he's been dead for three hundred years, that's where!"

"Then we'll just have to..." Wynn started casting some spell.

"What?!" Morrigan interrupted her casting. "Summon another demon to end all demons? You are getting senile with old age!"

Wynn blushed and scowled, but stopped her incantation. Was Morrigan right? Was Wynn in fact summoning a demon? Wynn, that right-as-rain straight and correct mage? It was hard to believe but it certainly looked that way... Wolf decided not to ask any questions just then though. They weren't done yet, and perhaps further events would clarify matters.

Going further in they found another demon, but it wasn't attacking them. Instead, it wanted to talk. It was wearing the late Commander's armour and was animating her corpse, rotten yet still intact, and Levi Dryden shivered. The demon complained that it could not leave the fortress, that a magical seal was preventing it from leaving. It wanted to go into the world and explore it, it was curious about the mortals, and yes, it would feed on some, but hey, demons had to eat too. It just so happened that human souls was their natural sustenance... And in exchange the demon offered to permanently close the tear in the Veil and prevent any further demons from entering Mundus through it.

"Don't negotiate with a demon," Wynn urged Wolf. "Don't even talk to her... it... whatever. It's a trick!"

"Oh, I think it's no trick," Wolf shook his head. "I think this demon is quite serious and would do as it promises. I've met a few demons just recently, remember?" He turned to Wynn and smiled. "Have no fear, I am not as ignorant as I look."

Morrigan laughed and Alistair scratched the back of his head, not quite getting Wolf's sarcasm. Wynn blushed with anger and stopped talking.

Wolf didn't think that the demon's bargain was worth it, he was sure they could find a way to close that tear in the Veil on their own. But since the demon remembered the battle and the events leading up to it, and since it had access to the late Commander's memories, Wolf wanted information first of all. Yet they did not learn anything new. The demon essentially recounted what they already saw in visions. It wasn't what Levi Dryden wanted to hear - the Commander did order their mage to summon the demons. It was her decision.

When all was told, Wolf refused the demon's offer of a deal, a fight followed, and the demon was slain. The body of Sophia Dryden, a Grey Warden Commander, now lay motionless on the floor. No one wanted to touch it.

"I don't know what to think of my grandmother now," Levi sighed heavily. "We always thought she was brave and honourable, but now it appears she ordered to summon the demons... I just can't square that..."

"Let us continue exploring the fortress," Wolf led him away. "Perhaps there's more to find here."

...

"I hear you, let me just finish this..." An old wizard called out to them when they entered a tower connected to the main keep by a high bridge. "It was about time someone showed up."

He finished his writing and turned around, and they recognised the mage from the visions, the one that summoned the demons. He was much older now, but it was clearly the same man.

"Avernus?" Wolf thought that was the name. "Magister Avernus, is that you? Or are you a demon animating his corpse? Or someone else entirely?"

"I am Avernus, indeed," the mage nodded. "Not a demon. And you must be the boy who stumbled onto this fortress years ago and to whom I've been sending clues ever since..." He turned to Levi Dryden. "I am glad you finally made it here. I don't think I have much longer to live."

"So the dreams..." Levi stood aghast.

"Indeed, I could not leave because I had to keep the seal intact, and I could not very well write a letter... Not after three hundred years..." the mage sighed. "But you were curious enough to go searching for the old fortress held by your grand-grand-grandmother, whose corpse is being animated by a demon as we speak..."

"Not any more," Wolf put in.

"Ah, good," Avernus smiled. "Are you the present day Grey Wardens?" He looked at all of them in turn, somehow recognising the signs in Wolf and Alistair and discounting Morrigan and Wynn. "What, just the two of you?"

"Afraid so," Wolf nodded. "The entire contingent of Ferelden Grey Wardens stands before you, Magister. And of course you know about the Blight."

"Oh yes, I've felt it of course," the mage frowned. "It's bad... but I am not surprised. Well, you've seen the visions, no doubt, you know what came to pass here. Yes, it was I who summoned the demons, and yes, Sophia Dryden, our Commander, ordered me to do so. It was an act of desperation... and of overconfidence on my part. I believed that I, together with our other mages, could control the demons. I know better now, but alas, it's too late."

He fell silent. His tower was a laboratory with cages and tables meant for experimentation on humans. His logbooks were there as well, the only books that were still intact in the fortress. Wolf took the time to read them. The old mage was conducting experiments on a several Grey Wardens that escaped death in that battle. He was trying to tap into the power of darkspawn blood that each Grey Warden had to drink at the Joining. It appeared that his subjects agreed to the experiments, lethal though they were, feeling that it was the last thing they could do for their Order. This research bore fruit, a concoction that would allow to awaken the power of darkspawn in Grey Wardens. It was knowledge obtained at a terrible price, and Wynn would see that concoction destroyed... but Wolf disagreed.

"If I break this vial, those Grey Wardens would have suffered and died for nothing," he told her and drank the mixture. He collapsed and saw the Archdemon again, it was not unlike the vision at the Joining. But something has changed. He felt one with the darkspawn, and when he awoke, he felt a new power surge through his veins.

"Is it blood magic?" He turned to Avernus.

"Of sorts," Avernus nodded. "It's got to do with blood, so yes, it's blood magic. But you are not a mage... Yet it works on you, you say? That is most interesting... I need to make a note of that..." Avernus squinted. "It is supposed to give you a kind of berserk power, I should think... at the cost of your own health... for a time... hmm... try it, and let me know how it goes. I've only tested it on myself, so I know what it does to a mage... but you are a warrior..."

"But this research is inhumane!" Wynn exclaimed angrily, having read the logbooks as well. "Experimenting on human beings! Whether they consented to that, is immaterial! You must be judged and executed for your crimes!" She pointed at Avernus.

"Well, you've judged me already," he chuckled. "Yet, I think, there's more to you than what meets the eye..."

Wynn blushed and stopped talking, and Wolf thought that being a mage, and an old and very experienced mage at that, Avernus must have sensed something about Wynn that Wolf had only guessed. Perhaps Morrigan sensed something as well... perhaps that could explain her hostility towards Wynn and a touch of disdain.

But they had a pressing matter to attend to first and foremost: the tear in the Veil. Avernus would clear his old summoning circles and close the tear, but the Wardens had to watch out for demons and make sure Avernus wasn't interrupted. It was a straightforward, if tiresome battle, and in the end the Veil was restored.

"You have to judge him now, Warden," Wynn insisted. "His crimes against humanity demand immediate punishment!"

"And I think it is I who should judge him - why?" Wolf turned to face her.

"You are the senior Grey Warden of Ferelden," she shrugged. "Or are you not?"

"Well... Alistair is the senior Grey Warden of Ferelden, officially," Wolf smiled. But Alistair was shaking his head violently, so Wolf continued. "Very well. As the senior Grey Warden of Ferelden I declare Avernus has done nothing wrong."

"WHAT?!!!" Wynn was having none of it. "You can't just leave it like that! He must be punished!!"

"I said no," Wolf repeated calmly. "Grey Wardens do not answer to the king, to the Chantry or to the First Enchanter. Besides, it is Avernus who is the senior Grey Warden of Ferelden. The whole thing is ridiculous, Wynn. There's just the three of us. I shall not judge what happened three hundred years ago. Avernus is welcome to stay here or leave or do as he pleases, now that the Veil has been repaired and he no longer needs to maintain the seal around the fortress... which he has done for three hundred years straight. The man deserves a break."

Avernus smiled, listening to Wolf. This was a Grey Warden after his own heart.

"But what of Soldier's Peak?" Levi Dryden suddenly changed the topic. "This fortress? The Dryden family? Was this all for naught?"

"Your grand-grandmother was the best of us, but there is no proof of that and history has judged differently," Avernus turned to Levi. "I am sorry. The fortress is now safe though, so perhaps the Grey Wardens of today can make use of it?"

"Home at last," Wolf smiled. "Indeed. The Drydens are welcome here, Grey Wardens or not... it's much too big for the three of us, you know."

"Yes! One fortress freed of demons and monsters!" Alistair wiped some blood off his armour. "We do good work."

"Well... I have no say in this... so have it your way," Wynn said with a scowl. "But I won't forget this, Warden..."

Rain's Hand, 3E387 - Haven

"So, Haven is apparently a small village in the Frostback Mountains, nothing special about it, except that it isn't marked on a single map," Wolf summarised what they'd learned about the location of the sacred artefact needed to cure Arl Eamon. "The cleric who was researching this subject had gone there leaving behind his apprentice who got assassinated by some unknown group. This doesn't look good."

"Yes, I wonder who they were," Alistair mused. "The fellow who pretended to be the apprentice, tried to send us on a wild goose chase..."

"Not quite so wild," Zevran shook his head. "He tried to send us to a certain inn that... well... I know it, but you wouldn't, of course... That inn is a trap, you see. If you want someone murdered, you send them there."

"Antivan Crows?" Wolf raised an eyebrow. This didn't sound very professional, and Antivan Crows positioned themselves as a very professional assassins guild.

"Of course not!" Zevran replied hotly, and Wolf smiled. "Some local bandits hang out in that inn! But I don't think that the imposter in the cleric's house was associated with those bandits. He wasn't after our loot, he just wanted us dead. So he tried to send us there, but we saw through his ruse."

"We should not have killed him," Morrigan joined the conversation and everyone looked up in surprise. "I mean, we should not have killed him straight away," she corrected herself with a smile. "I could have kept him alive indefinitely, while one of you applied some persuasion... But not when his skull was sliced in two," she glared at Alistair.

"What?!" He jumped, stung. "I was being efficient!"

"Cracking his skull so as to use his brain to buff up yours, no doubt?" Morrigan squinted.

"Stop it, both of you!" Wolf raised his voice before hostilities could break out. "He was a fool to try to attack us, seeing how there were four of us and only one of him..."

"We shall eventually find out who he was with, I'm pretty sure of that," Zevran said in a soothing tone. "Because we're still alive, and if we go to that Haven village, they are bound to try again."

"I wonder why it's not on any map though," Wolf mused, studying the map of Ferelden. "Frostback Mountains are here in the West. Several areas look like they could have a settlement there... How are we supposed to know where to go?"

"Let me see..." Alistair pulled the map towards him. "Here in the North is the passage to Orzammar - the Dwarven lands. So that's not it. In the South it just gets wilder and wilder, so that's not it either. Somewhere in the middle then?" He looked at the others but no one had a clue. "Well, there's a road circling the nearby lake, it skirts the Frostback Mountains on the Eastern side, why don't we just go there and see? Or... unless you think it's a silly idea... then may be we shouldn't... err..."

"That's exactly what we'll do," Wolf nodded, folding the map. "Follow the road and keep our eyes peeled for a possible passage into the mountains. If that cleric could figure it out, so will we."

They packed up their camp and left the following morning. The trek was uneventful, barring the usual interludes with darkspawn. The road took them North, then turned South, skirting the mountains on the Eastern edge. Eventually they saw what looked like a narrow passage, they took it, it opened onto a decent road leading up, and before they knew it, they came to a small village nestled high in the mountains. The peaks were covered in snow and the air was crispy with frost.

"You have no business here, best you were on your way," a guard greeted them as they approached.

"Well, that's at least straightforward," Wolf smirked. "Is this Haven?"

"It is, and you have no business here," the guard nodded. "We don't like lowlanders come in and stare at us like that. This ain't a zoo."

"I didn't expect to see a daedroth, don't worry," Wolf said through his teeth.

"A dae... what?" The guard squinted. "You've got no business here!"

"And so you said already," Wolf sighed. "We are looking for a cleric - a Brother Genitivi. We were told he was headed here. Is he in the village?"

"I wouldn't know, we don't normally let lowlanders in," the guard shook his head. "You may ask the Reverend Father Erik about it. He is in the Chantry."

"A Reverend Father?" Alistair asked in surprise. "But Chantry priests are all women!"

"This ain't lowland, I keep telling yah!" The guard was getting cross. "Haven has a Reverend Father. This has been like that for ages, and we like to keep our traditions! Now, you may trade in the shop and you may go to the Chantry to see Reverend Father about... err... whoever it is you're looking for. But then - be off!"

The village was eerily empty, with just a few people in the street.

"Nothing strange about it," one of the villagers shrugged. "Everyone's in the Chantry. There's a service on."

"What do you expect?" Zevran shrugged too. "It's a rural place. I've never seen one with song and dance in the street... it's always doom and gloom..."

"There would be doom a gloom if they were expecting an assassin!" Alistair rolled his eyes.

"We don't generally send a letter to make an appointment," Zevran smiled. "Although it is an interesting idea. I shall suggest it to the Crows if, by some miracle, they take me back alive."

"Do you want to go back?" Alistair squinted.

"I just want to go back to Antiva, not necessarily to the Crows. But officially I am still their slave, their property. They never sat me free. So if I were to return to Antiva, I return to the Crows..." Zevran's voice trailed off and no one felt like saying anything either.

...

The service was indeed in full swing when they entered the Chantry. They stood back, but the guard pushed them forward, and the priest interrupted the service and sent everyone home. Wolf thought it was odd, he even said that there was no need to stop on their account. But it appeared that there was in fact such a need.

When the Reverend Father heard that they came looking for Brother Genitivi, he gave a sign and the guards attacked. The battle was short, but such a strong and immediate action was unexpected. Did they normally kill all visitors on sight? Surely, that was a bit extreme even for a rural place like this!

A search of the Chantry soon revealed a hidden chamber, and inside it Brother Genitivi, still alive.

"What happened?" Wolf asked, helping to bandage his injured leg.

"They wanted to know everything about my research," Brother Genitivi looked quite astonished by such interest. "The sacred artefact - it's here!"

"What is this sacred artefact exactly?" Wolf squinted. "It isn't really the ashes of some cremated woman, is it?"

"How dare you!!" Brother Genitivi got quite hot under the collar. "She is our Prophet and the Maker's Bride!"

"Err... forgive me, I haven't had time to study the religion of Ferelden," Wolf quickly backed down. "I heard people speak of ashes in an urn... that's what you do with cremations, isn't it?"

"Well, you do have a foreign accent, so I forgive you," Brother Genitivi softened his tone. "She was a hero and a Prophet, she made the Maker look upon his creation and help his people..."

A lecture on Ferelden's religion followed, and Wolf cursed himself for his awkward remark. He did know the basics, he read it during the trip from Skyrim... he just didn't take it seriously. Wrongly so, it appeared.

The Urn of Sacred Ashes was indeed an urn containing cremated remains of a woman considered to be a Prophet. She was worshiped in life, but her husband grew jealous of this affection and betrayed her. She was burned at the stake, and her ashes were carefully collected and placed in an urn which was then taken to a remote location in the Frostback Mountains. The guardians of the ashes founded a village named Haven... It was meant to be a quiet resting place for their beloved Prophet, and thus its location was kept a secret. And now Brother Genitivi wanted to publish his research, and of course the guardians could not allow it.

"Do you have Erik's medallion?" Brother Genitivi looked up at Wolf. "It's a key to the temple!"

They took the medallion off Reverend Father Erik's body and walked out into the mountains, fighting and killing most villagers in the process. It just didn't seem worth it... Yet they needed the ashes, and so it had to be done.

"Do you really think the ashes are magical?" Wolf asked Morrigan, falling back slightly.

"I don't know," she mused. "The Prophet was a real person, that much is certain... She led a rebellion together with her husband who was a warlord... But you know all that, we've just had the lecture," she smirked. "She was burned at the stake... If she was a mage, she could have infused her body - and thus her ashes - with a curse or a blessing... let's hope for a blessing, shall we?" She smiled and stopped talking - they stood before the door to the ancient temple.

The medallion fitted the lock and the door opened. It was a ruin of a grand temple, and Brother Genitivi immediately got lost in thought marveling at it.

"The Urn of Sacred Ashes is inside," he said, smiling radiantly. "You go, I'll stay here. There will be plenty of fighting ahead, these villagers are tough fighters, I think you'll find. They breed drakes and drink dragon blood... What, didn't you know?" He stopped talking, noticing Wolf's astonishment. "There's a dragon atop this mountain and a drake lair in the caves under this temple. This location was chosen specifically for this. The dragon is protecting the ashes, to say nothing of the traps!"

"Charming," Wolf's brow furrowed.

The temple was filled with angry guardians and an occasional brontosaur. Battles were gruelling. Yet our party prevailed and entered one inner sanctum after the next. They found the cave housing drakes, there were several adult drakes in it, a large number of hatchlings and an astounding number of dragon eggs. Some eggs were set apart, mounted in eggcups, very much like boiled eggs served for breakfast. One such egg had a cracked shell, and Wolf thought that perhaps it was about to hatch, but when he looked closer, he discovered that it was just an empty shell used as storage. He pulled a nice battleaxe out of that egg.

"This is really bizarre," he turned to his companions. "To keep the shells and use them for storage..."

"Yeah, I usually smash mine into tiny bits," Zevran nodded, looking around. "This just looks like a breakfast hall for giants..."

Finally they found some people who were not attacking them on sight.

"Who are you and why are you here?!" One of them demanded in a very angry voice.

"We are here for the ashes of the prophet, we understand the urn is here somewhere," Wolf explained. "We haven't found it yet though."

"No, that's because it's further on," the man confirmed. "What do you want with it?"

"I need it to heal a sick man."

"Oh... well... that changes things," the man suddenly softened his tone. "We can let you pass - the urn is up ahead," he pointed at a passage behind him. "If you agree to do us a service."

"I don't like this already..." Alistair muttered.

"The Prophet is not dead!" The man exclaimed with pathos. "She rose again in a form more radiant than before! But she is being held back by her ashes from realising her true potential. We'll give you a vial with her blood to be poured into the ashes. Do this, and you will become one of us!"

"Err... wait," Wolf was watching the man before him. "Just how exactly would I become one of you? And why would I want to?"

"Once the Prophet's ashes are annihilated, we shall let you drink the blood of her new form," the man explained, undeterred. "Blood carries power and knowledge! You will learn what we've learned over the centuries!"

"Drinking blood!" Alistair exclaimed with derision. "No! Just think what happened last time you had to drink some blood!"

"Yeah, I joined your Order," Wolf turned to him. "That's what happened. I became a Grey Warden, which is apparently a huge honour... So how is drinking dragon blood any worse?"

"Err... I don't know..." Alistair had to admit. "But destroying the Prophet's ashes is plain wrong!"

"I don't disagree with that," Wolf nodded. "However, these ashes have been here for centuries, no one ever saw or touched them. They've played no role in the affairs of the world. So whether they actually exist or not, makes no difference."

"You know you're just making up excuses, don't you?" Alistair squinted. "I can't stop you, but I think it's wrong."

"I think it makes no difference," Zevran joined in. "No one gets to see these ashes anyway. The man before us is mad, of course, but do we really want to fight a dragon?"

"We'll be fighting one soon enough, the Archdemon is a dragon," Wolf reminded him. "I haven't made up my mind yet as to what to do..."

"I say drink the dragon blood and gain favour of this powerful group," Morrigan offered her opinion. "With them at your side, battling darkspawn will be easier."

"I don't think they'll battle darkspawn," Wolf shook his head. "No. If I drink dragon blood, this will be only for my own benefit... I just have to decide whether destroying a historic artefact is worth it. Destroying a historic artefact, and also desecrating the memory of a beloved Prophet... and destroying a source of magical healing... all at once... hmm..."

"I don't understand why you're even considering it," Alistair looked dejected. "Don't do it."

"How do you kill a dragon?" Wolf suddenly turned to him. "I mean the Archdemon. How do we kill it?"

"Err... cut off its head?" Alistair offered. "I dunno... how do you kill any living being?"

"I think it is rather more complex than that," Morrigan joined in. "Dragons are immortal. You have to destroy its soul too, or else it will simply be reborn in a new body... like Flemeth..."

"Flemeth? What does that have to do with Flemeth?" Alistair was confused.

"Never mind Flemeth," Wolf didn't want to complicate matters too much. "But Morrigan has a point. Dragons are immortal. I heard talk that only a Grey Warden can truly kill the Archdemon, so there has to be more to it than just cutting off its head. What is it? You should know it, Alistair, because if you don't... I don't know what we shall do."

"Well, yes, I do know it," Alistair nodded, looking somber. "Duncan explained it at some point, but I put it right out of my mind. One Grey Warden is chosen to deliver the killing blow, usually a stab through the heart of the dragon. The dragon's soul is then transferred into that Grey Warden, killing him. Thus the Archdemon's soul dies with the Grey Warden then and there."

"And it has to be a Grey Warden to deliver the final blow because the dragon soul can only be transferred into a dragon kin," Wolf nodded. "Yes, that makes sense... Grey Wardens become dragon kin when they drink darkspawn blood... But a dragon's soul is too large for a man and kills him... unless..."

"It is an honour to die for the Grey Wardens!" Alistair exclaimed with pathos. "I would offer my life without hesitation!"

"But what if you didn't have to die?" Morrigan gave him a long look. "Darkspawn taint is too far removed from true dragon kin... It may be good enough to attract a dragon soul, but it is too weak for it..."

"While drinking real dragon blood... I see now!" Zevran smiled. "This could be a way out."

"We shall do as you ask," Wolf turned to the guardian before him. "Give me the vial of dragon blood and I shall pour it into the ashes."

"That's a bad idea..!" Alistair muttered again, but didn't interfere.

"You will be our Prophet's true champion!" The guardian smiled radiantly, passing a vial of dark blood to Wolf. "Good luck to you! I hope you'll pass the tests!"

"Tests?"

"There are tests of course, to separate true pilgrims from false ones who intend to destroy the ashes by pouring dragon blood into them," the guardian shrugged. "But you came here seeking the ashes to cure a sick man. You'll be fine."

"Hmm..." Wolf shook his head in doubt, but stashed away the vial with dragon blood all the same.

"I am just going to hope that you have some clever sneaky trick up your sleeve," Alistair said in his ear. "I can tell you are still undecided."

"This gets us past the guardians here, and possibly past the dragon," Wolf nodded, replying in a low voice. "We haven't found that urn yet. And yes, I am still undecided... Let's go."

Rain's Hand, 3E387 - Dragon blood

The Urn of Sacred Ashes was being protected by another guardian. This one was a spirit of one of the original guardians that collected the Prophet's ashes and carried the urn to a remote location in the Frostback Mountains.

"So, if you are the real guardian, then who are the people we met outside of this temple?" Wolf asked, even though he thought he already knew the answer.

"They are the descendants of the other original guardians," the spirit replied. "The others lost their faith over the centuries and their spirits have vanished. I am the only one that remains."

"They claim that the dragon is in fact the Prophet in a new form," Wolf asked another question. "Is it true? Or is the dragon just a dragon?"

"The Prophet is dead, she returned to the Maker," the guardian answered with sadness. "The dragon is undoubtedly a fearsome creature, but it is not the Prophet. The only thing that remains of the Prophet are her ashes."

"I need some of that to cure a sick man," Wolf decided to get down to business. "How can I get it?"

"You will have to pass the tests," the guardian opened the door behind him. "Through here. If you survive, you will be allowed to take a pinch of ashes from the urn. This is all you need to cure that sick person."

"If I survive..?" Wolf didn't like the sound of that.

"Failure will result in death, yes," the guardian nodded. "So think well whether you want to proceed."

"I think I like this even less than drinking dragon blood," Wolf turned to his companions. "Now it becomes clear why the others didn't want to attempt it. Tests? What kind of tests will these be, I wonder?"

"Tests of your faith, no doubt," Morrigan shrugged. "But you are not from here, and if I may say so... you have no faith in this Prophet. Perhaps the wise thing to do would be to turn back."

"I have faith!" Alistair stepped forward. "I can pass the tests! For all of us!"

"I don't think it works that way," Wolf shook his head. "I think each of us will have to pass some test or other... So, what do you say? Are you with me? I am going in."

"Let's do it," Zevran checked his sword and dagger. "I think there will be fighting involved."

"Well, it's just another spirit," Morrigan straightened her back. "Let's see what awaits us."

Alistair didn't have to say anything, they already knew that he had faith.

The first test came immediately when they turned to speak with the guardian. He knew their past, their thoughts and their secret regrets... He brought it up, for each of them, individually, hitting the spot that hurt most. Alistair was practically reduced to tears, Zevran grew very somber as well, Morrigan became defensive and plainly refused to answer the question... But with Wolf the guardian didn't have much to say.

"You do not hail from this land," he fixed his gaze on Wolf. "I cannot see far enough in your memories... You are a warrior... yes... but there's more... Dragon kin, is it? Here to fight the Archdemon... nothing wrong with that, in itself... yes..." The guardian paused, trying to find something to put to Wolf, no doubt. "Oh, but your test is simple: do you intend to pour that dragon blood into the ashes? Yes, I know you received some. Do you want to become a dragon yourself?"

"That would not make me into a dragon, spirit," Wolf shook his head. "You are fishing. You know I am still undecided. Stand aside. We'll go in and see what comes to pass."

The spirit vanished.

"What was the purpose of that test?" Zevran looked around, but saw no one ready to attack.

"To break our will," Wolf decided. "Let's proceed."

The tests that followed were all designed to get them killed. There were tests of logic and wits as well as of mental resistance. The hardest test indeed involved fighting - it was a battle against their perfect selves. They withdrew many times and restarted it over and over, losing the battle again and again. Wolf always made sure to exit early, before they were actually killed.

"These versions of ourselves are stronger, faster and more powerful than we are," Morrigan scoffed. "I wish I could turn into a swarm of stinging insects like the other Morrigan!"

"If I was as good as that Zevran, I would not have failed in my contract," Zevran sighed. "I just don't know how he does it."

"The test is a cheat," Wolf agreed. "Which means we must cheat as well. It's all in our heads. Our doubles possess the abilities that we only wish to possess... The way to get through it is to stop wishing. We must accept ourselves the way we are."

"That's easier said than done..." Alistair was staring at something on the ground.

"And yet we must try," Wolf insisted. "Otherwise we shall either die here or will have to return empty-handed."

They each focused on themselves, and for a few minutes no one spoke. Then, somehow, each of them changed. All fidgeting stopped, uncertain looks disappeared. They were as ready as they would ever be.

When they stepped into the test hall, invisible copies of themselves attacked, just like before. Yet this battle was decidedly different - this time they were evenly matched. It wasn't easy, but they prevailed.

"Aha, no more swarming insects this time!" Morrigan was triumphant. "I never wanted that spell anyway, splitting myself up into a hundred tiny bits doesn't seem all that appealing after all!"

"I had to accept that my templar training remained incomplete," Alistair said quietly. "I had less brainwashing, but I equally had less battle training... some of those moves are beyond me. But on the upside, I get to work with mages, not just hunt them down..."

"I was never a good archer," Zevran sighed. "And now my double wasn't either."

They walked in silence for a little while.

"What did you have to give up, Wolf?" Zevran asked quietly. "You never said..."

"I cannot breathe fire or petrify my enemies with my voice," Wolf replied. "The way dragons do. I can speak the words... but they are just words, coming from me. Dragon kin is not the same as a dragon."

They came to what looked like the final hall. There was a staircase at the far end of it with a statue of the Prophet on the top platform.

"The urn must be by that statue," Morrigan pointed out. "This is the first and only statue of the Prophet that we've come across in this temple."

"Alright," Wolf agreed. "But what is the final test? I'm sure there is one, even if I don't see any obstacles in the hall..."

And then, just as he spoke, flames shot up from the floor, making them back off.

"Ugh... how are we supposed to get through that?" They looked at each other, only now noticing several charred corpses on the ground.

"Well, let's see." Wolf approached a stone pedestal which he first mistook for a broken off column. "Something is written here..."

"Cast off your worldly possessions and be cleansed in the Prophet's flames", Alistair read the faded carving. "Strip off and be roasted. No one wants to eat your molten armour."

"Harr, harr, very funny," Wolf snapped. "You do it. You're the one who has faith."

"I think Morrigan should do it, since it involves stripping off," Zevran grinned.

Morrigan didn't say anything but came to read the tablet for herself.

"I bet each of us has to do it," she decided. "The only way out of this temple is past the flames."

They sighed, stripped and stepped into the flames, fully expecting to be roasted. Yet nothing of the kind has happened. Instead, the flames subsided and the spirit guardian came out to congratulate them on passing all of their tests.

"You may now approach the urn and take a pinch of the Prophet's ashes for your sick man," he said.

It was time to make up his mind. Wolf stepped onto the platform and opened the urn. It was filled with grey dust, and he took a pinch of it for Arl Eamon. He didn't feel any magic in it and hoped that it wasn't just talk. He closed the urn and stepped away. His companions watched him, wondering what he would do with the dragon blood. No one spoke.

Wolf walked around the hall. He found several more charred corpses and several locked chests. What was that place? It was filled with magic, but if the Maker was really watching them, why were they not struck down? How did they even manage to pass the tests? Neither of them was a model citizen, far from it... and only Alistair really had faith.

The vial of dragon blood in his pocket was getting warm. Was it sensing the presence of the urn in the room? Was it responding to the magic? Perhaps there was magic in the urn after all... And did it really matter? Wolf took the vial out of the pocket and held it in his hand. It did feel warm, and he felt warmth in his hand where it was touching the vial.

"The blood in the vial is reacting to your own," Morrigan looked over his shoulder, noticing it too. "Dragonborn... Mother said it a few times, but what does it mean, exactly? You are not a dragon."

"No, not a dragon," Wolf shook his head. "It's an old Nord thing, I thought... but may be it is more universal than that, if your mother knew about it. Some people are said to be born with dragon blood in their veins... may be not entirely dragon blood, but mixed with it or related to it somehow... and I am one of those people."

"And then you drank darkspawn blood to become a Grey Warden, but in fact you were one already to begin with," Morrigan smiled with understanding. "Which is why you survived, of course. Oh yes, I know what it entails... You didn't kill Flemeth, did you?" She suddenly asked. "You never said you would, and you never said you did... You just said I was free."

"I didn't kill her, no," Wolf returned her gaze. "She promised to release you, she has other ways. Can you feel it?"

"Yes, I can," Morrigan nodded. "She did release me. Although this robe... did she tell you? It dampens my willpower a little. 'Keeps it in check' is how she would put it, no doubt."

"Yes, she told me," Wolf smiled. "I thought you'd notice. You still decided to wear it, even though it 'keeps you in check', if there ever was such a thing..."

Morrigan took Wolf's hand in hers and closed it around the vial with dragon blood. They stood in silence for a few minutes, their eyes locked.

"You have some dragon blood right here," Morrigan said softly. "You could just drink it..."

"...instead of tipping it into the urn," Wolf smiled. "I was just thinking that."

He uncorked the vial and drank from it. He collapsed to the floor but had no nightmares like during the Joining. He did not see the Archdemon. "This was not the Archdemon's blood," he reflected. But did he feel any different than before? Perhaps... He saw an aura around the corpses on the ground, and realised that he could draw life energy from it. Did he become a necromancer? But he was no mage... it was all so very strange...

"That knocked you out better than Orzammar Mead," Zevran helped him up. "And the Dwarves know their liquors. But you seem alright otherwise."

"You're making drinking blood into a habit," Alistair shook his head. "At least I am glad you didn't tip it into the urn."

"Nah, the urn is too important to too many people," Wolf smiled. "And since I had some dragon blood in my hand, I didn't see a point in destroying the ashes so that I could drink dragon blood from a cup rather than from a vial..." he shrugged. "Come on, let's go. We have the dragon guardians to fight outside, no doubt."

...

"You tried to conceal your deed, but you cannot conceal something like that!" Furious Wynn met them at the camp when they got there. "You destroyed the Urn of Sacred Ashes! You're worse than darkspawn! I regret to ever fighting for your cause! Darkspawn take you! I am leaving!" She stood there fuming, but didn't actually leave.

"The Urn of Sacred Ashes is still there, I did nothing to it," Wolf shrugged. "But if you wish to leave, feel free. 'My' cause is only to defend this land from the Blight, which will swallow all, yourself included. I would have said it was nice knowing you, but I guess it wasn't."

"But I can sense dragon blood on you!!!" Wynn wasn't giving up. "That is only possible if you gave in to those false guardians and poured the vial into the urn so that they would give you some dragon blood to drink! Which they themselves drink as well!"

"Interesting," Wolf said coldly. "You weren't there. Just how exactly do you know all this? Brother Genitivi hasn't published his research yet, we found him there half dead. So, let's hear it, Wynn: what are you hiding?"

"I... Well... If the Urn is still intact... then perhaps I was mistaken..." Wynn said softly, clearly confused. "But the dragon blood? Where did you get it?"

"I drank from the vial that they gave me to pour into the ashes," Wolf shrugged. "The urn holds no meaning to me, but it does have meaning to a lot of people. Destroying it would have been counter-productive for one who is trying to build an army," he smiled. "I am not that daft. But you will need to tell me what you are hiding. I do not trust you, Wynn."

"I see..." Wynn hesitated. "You will know it in time... I am not a threat to you, Warden, I promise. I joined you as a healer, and I that is what I shall do. Grant an old woman some leeway, will you?" She smiled.

"The old woman card doesn't work on me," Wolf shook his head. "I've seen you fight. You may have grey in your hair, but there's no weakness in your step. Stay if you must, but I won't forget this."

They looked each other in the eye, each remembering how a few days ago Wynn said the same thing to Wolf when he refused to judge Avernus for summoning demons three hundred years ago.

With a little thought, Wolf passes the final test. Would it have been an instant fail had he tipped the vial into the ashes?

Hmm... I suppose it depends what you consider a fail. The game would not end, no, it is a valid choice. However, it does have serious consequences. Wolf and I both did not think it was worth while destroying the urn, whether one believes in it or not. It's like he said - it is important to many people.

I did twist the story a little, this is not quite how it goes in the game, but close. I used an exploit... I'm playing it on Xbox 360, so no mods, but there are ways to get what you want in the base game. That is, there is a way to simulate drinking dragon blood from a vial even if it wasn't supposed to be possible.

Rain's Hand, 3E387 - Miracles

Now that our party had the sacred ashes for Arl Eamon, they went straight to Redcliffe Castle to see if the ashes would have any effect. The Arl was still lying on his bed unconscious, his condition unchanged.

"How are you keeping him alive?" Wolf asked Teagan.

"We have a mage from the Circle of Magi to assist," Teagan led Wolf to the Arl's chamber. "He says it was never necessary to have a demon for this..."

"As I always said," Morrigan pointed out. "The only reason the demon got a foothold here was that the boy was too young and inexperienced..."

"Yes, yes, it wasn't his fault," Teagan cut her off. "The boy is blameless in this..."

"Well, actually, when I was his age..." Morrigan started.

"Silence, apostate!" Teagan flew into a rage. "It is because of the likes of you that... Ouch!!!"

"Stop it, both of you!!!" Wolf bellowed. "We did not go through all the trouble of finding that urn just so you two could swap insults! Let us see whether the fabled ashes actually work. Here is Arl Eamon."

The air was still charged, but hostilities seized. Wolf passed the ashes to the mage tending to Arl Eamon, he cast a lengthy spell... and nothing happened. All was exactly like before, except that now Arl's clothes were covered in ash.

Nobody moved or spoke, hoping that may be the magic just needed time to work.

Then, to everyone's relief, Arl Eamon twitched and opened his eyes. The miracle that everyone was hoping for, did happen after all.

"Who are all these people?" The Arl sat up, looking at Wolf and his party, and taking an immediate dislike of Morrigan. "An apostate? Here? Call the templars!!"

"Wait... Perhaps let me tell you first what happened while you were ill..." Teagan started. "It's been months..."

"And while you retell the Arl the story..." Wolf turned to Teagan. "The whole story, please, all of it..." Teagan blushed but nodded. "While you do that... Whatever happened to the mage who poisoned the Arl? Does he still live?"

"He is in the dungeons," Teagan shrugged. "You want to see him, I take it? Suit yourself."

He turned his attention to the Arl, and Wolf and his companions left the room.

"Alistair, I think it is better if you stay with them, though," Wolf turned to Alistair trying to make it look like an afterthought and failing. "You are the only one the Arl knows, and we do want to make sure that everything is told correctly. Remember - we need the Arl's army to fight the Blight."

Alistair nodded and returned to Arl Eamon's room.

"Morrigan, please take the dog to the camp... and stay there," Wolf smiled at her. "This is why we did it all - we need the Arl's army. When the Blight is defeated, you can come back and turn Teagan into a toad, if you wish."

"I would not have to, he is a two-legged toad already!" Morrigan snapped but did as Wolf asked.

Left alone, Wolf descended into the dungeon.

...

"Good grief, you look terrible!" He could not help exclaiming when he saw Anders in one of the cells. The door wasn't locked, but Anders wasn't going anywhere.

"They keep forgetting to bring me food," he smiled weakly. "It doesn't matter, really, they'll execute me soon enough anyway.

"Well... that's why I am here." Wolf pulled up a stool and sat facing Anders who became a shadow of his former self. "Arl Eamon woke up, they are discussing politics now, but then they'll want to judge you. I don't know how much weight my words will carry, I am not Duncan... But... to cut through the chase... I could use someone like you with us..."

"You want a blood mage..?" Anders couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "For what?"

"I have recently acquired several abilities that stem from blood magic," Wolf looked at him sideways. "Yes, it works also on non-mages... So I need a blood mage who is not a maleficar, and you fit the bill..."

Anders stared at Wolf in disbelief.

"Err..."

"That would involve you becoming a Grey Warden though," Wolf continued. "I didn't want to suggest it to the others before talking to you... which is why I am here. However, seeing you like this... You will not survive the Joining, you are too weak. Even if we send you away to recover for a time... I could not justify it to Alistair then... Alistair is of course going to object..." Wolf sighed. "If I invoke the Rite of Conscription, you would have to come with us straight away and go through the Joining soon afterwards, and you are too weak. It would be a death sentence. So I shall only bring it up if you want me to."

"Put like that... I don't think I stand a chance..." Anders nodded. "I've heard of your ritual, of course... It isn't as much of a secret as some like to believe... especially among blood mages... But I agree, I doubt I would survive it in my present state."

"I won't mention it then," Wolf agreed. "Your other options are going to be... execution here by the Arl's men, or execution at the Tower of Magi by the templars... Not much of a prospect..." he sighed.

"Or tranquility," Anders said, and his face fell.

"If the First Enchanter values your life," Wolf looked up. "What would you prefer?"

"Death," Anders answered simply and without hesitation.

The Rite of Tranquility was an irreversible procedure that could be performed on a mage in order to make him or her "harmless". This involved severing the mage's connection to the Fade, removing the magical talent and abilities, and thus making the former mage unattractive to demons. Non-mages were so rarely possessed by demons, that it was considered impossible, which it was not. The side effect of the Rite of Tranquility was that it also purged the person of all emotions and of all memories of emotions. They no longer knew what love or hate even was, all people were equal to them, their attitude always even. They did not know anger or fear... and would therefore quickly fall to darkspawn as they could not recognise the danger and had no means of defending themselves, having lost their magic. They could see a direct attack, of course, and could potentially learn to use weapons... but they lacked the drive or motivation for it, not feeling any violence what so ever. Yet "tranquils", as they were called, were valued by the Circle of Magi because of their ability to work with lyrium, a magical substance used for enchanting weapons and armour. For a mage, direct contact with lyrium would quickly result in insanity and death, and so far only dwarves could work with it, as they had a natural immunity to it. They also did not have magic - there were no dwarven mages. But human and elven tranquils used to be mages before the rite was performed on them, they had the education and knowledge of magical procedures, and thus could quickly learn enchanting too. They knew the law and had no issues obeying the templars, and no complaints against staying in the Tower, as they felt no resentment at being confined...

"Of course, if I were subjected to the Rite of Tranquility, I would no longer object to my condition afterwards," Anders smirked. "Such is the nature of the procedure. You get a perfectly compliant slave, content to just be alive... I would lose myself in that. This Anders would be dead, and a flesh golem would stand in my place... I cannot bear the thought."

"I understand," Wolf nodded. "I met a few tranquils... Then, I fear, your options are limited indeed. Still, I am going to suggest to turn you over to the Circle of Magi. Unless you prefer not to?"

"I get to choose who executes me," Anders smirked. "Well... Thank you for talking to me, anyway. Thank you for trying to help me... I don't know why you are doing it, really... it's unexpected... First, you send me into the Fade to confront the demon, and now you try to pull me out of this mess..."

"You have every right to be suspicious," Wolf nodded. "But there is nothing behind what I told you. I would have liked to have you in our group... were you a bit stronger."

"In this case I prefer the Circle of Magi," Anders looked straight at Wolf. "Even with the possibility of them choosing the Rite of Tranquility over an execution. It's just... familiar. I prefer that."

They talked a bit longer, and then Wolf returned to Arl Eamon and to politics.

...

"Loghain wants a civil war!" Arl Eamon was speaking hotly when Wolf entered the room. "Even though the Blight stands on our doorstep!"

"He does not believe it is the Blight," Alistair said. "He thinks it's just another darspawn incursion."

"He thinks..!" Arl Eamon was red with anger. "I am no Grey Warden either, so I don't know, but if Duncan says it's the Blight, I believe him! You feel it too, Alistair, don't you? Well, is it the Blight or is it not?!"

"It is the Blight, My Lord," Alistair answered.

"Well, that's good enough for me," Arl Eamon tried to calm his anger. "Which means we must prevent the civil war, spare our troops to fight the darkspawn! Yes, of course, you can have my army, provided it doesn't get slaughtered by Loghain in his stupid civil war!!!"

"So what do you propose?" Wolf asked carefully.

"Loghain proclaimed himself King, but he isn't a real King, not by right," Arl Eamon shook his head. "He knows it - doesn't he call himself King Regent? His daughter is the late King's widow, she is still the queen, but the throne does not automatically go to her. The law demands that we first examine all other possible contenders, and then select one to be King."

"Or Queen," Teagan put in.

"Or Queen," Arl Eamon nodded. "Indeed, the King's widow could be crowned as the sovereign as well. Which is what Loghain wants, no doubt, with her being his daughter!" He scoffed and swore. "No, we need a better claim to the throne - a blood claim. Alistair will be King."

"WHAT?!!!" It took a moment to sink in, but then Alistair exploded in objections.

"Alistair, you have a responsibility to this Kingdom," Arl Eamon overruled him. "Loghain must be removed and executed for treason, and this cannot be done if his daughter rules the land. And while there are plenty of nobles with a blood connection to the royal family, none come close enough to overrule the late King's widow. None, besides you. The King was your half brother. You are next in line."

"Next in line of fire, that's for sure," Alistair muttered. "I... understand..."

"Then this is what we shall do," Arl Eamon took quill and parchment. "I shall write to all nobles of Ferelden and call a Landsmeet. With that, all disputes must be put on hold, and Loghain won't be able to rally anyone into fighting. You continue pursuing your treaties to gather forces to face the Blight," he looked at Alistair and Wolf. "Calling the Landsmeet is a lengthy affair anyway, so that will buy us time. When you are finished, come and find me in the capital. If all goes to plan, it will be about time for the Landsmeet then. What happens next... and whether the Archdemon will hold his armies of darkspawn until then... I do not know. But do we have a better plan?"

Everyone shook their heads, there wasn't anything else they could do.

They were about to leave when Teagan finally brought up the topic of Anders.

"There's one last thing, brother," he turned to the Arl. "The matter of the mage whom Loghain hired to poison you. He is still in the dungeons."

"Is he now?" The Arl looked surprised. "Well, have him brought here and we'll see!"

When Anders entered the room supported by one of the knights, Arl Eamon was having great difficulties containing his anger. Yet his voice was relatively calm when he finally spoke.

"I would just have you executed on the spot," he glared at Anders. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing, My Lord, you are within your rights to do so," Anders answered without looking up.

"That I am!" Arl Eamon glared at everyone in the room. "What would you have me do, Warden?" He suddenly addressed Wolf. "Just remember - my capacity for mercy is severely limited just now!"

"Did Teagan tell you the whole story?" Wolf squinted, but Alistair nodded in confirmation. "Then you know it isn't as plain as blaming everything on this one mage. I think it is mostly a matter for the Circle of Magi. I therefore suggest we hand him over to them."

"Hmm... I would have preferred execution myself..." Arl Eamon looked at Anders with hatred. "But what you say is true... and perhaps executing Loghain's pawn would not look good to the Landsmeet..." He paused, rubbing his chin. "Very well, the Circle of Magi it is! Call the templars."

And with that he turned his back on everyone and stormed off.

Second Seed, 3E387 - Nature of a beast

"Where do you want to go next?" Wolf asked Alistair when they were sitting by the campfire, a little away from everyone else. "Elves or dwarves?"

"I think I'd rather just die here and now," Alistair looked somber. "Make me King! I'd rather die..."

"You aren't King yet," Wolf lowered his voice. "This won't come up until the Landsmeet. We have time..."

"Time for what?" Alistair smirked. "It's not enough time to make a new heir!"

"No, granted..." Wolf didn't really know what to say, he simply thought that Alistair needed to talk it through. With Duncan dead and Arl Eamon taking a hard stance like that, Alistair didn't have anyone he could relate to. Wolf was the next best thing. "Tell me about your life in the Chantry," Wolf suddenly asked, changing the topic. "What was it like?"

"Lonely," Alistair shrugged. "The other boys had parents come and visit them, it isn't a prison, you know, and no where as strict as the Tower of Magi... But I was fuming angry at Arl Eamon for sending me there, and after a while he stopped visiting... My fault of course, but I was young... and no one else came to see me anyway."

"I understand now why you wanted to look up your half sister," Wolf picked up the thread. "When we were in the capital... but she just rebuffed you for 'having killed your mother'. Like it was your fault that she died in childbirth with you... People can be quite irrational sometimes."

"That they can," Alistair nodded. "Like a certain young boy angry with his adoptive father for sending him to the Chantry..." he sighed. "But now this adoptive father betrayed me again! Now he wants me to be King!" Alistair's face lit up with anger. "Did you notice how he never asked my opinion?"

"Kings rarely get to do what they want," Wolf agreed. "You thought that becoming a Grey Warden would relinquish your claim to the throne... I am sorry that it didn't."

"It was supposed to," Alistair said with defiance. "Grey Wardens are supposed to leave their prior lives behind, not to have them thrust upon them again! Remember Ser Jori? The knight whom Duncan killed during the Joining? He didn't want to leave his life behind, and died for it. And I now get my life thrust upon me while there's the Blight to stand up to!"

"Duncan isn't here to say otherwise," Wolf said with sadness. "My word doesn't stretch that far, and Arl Eamon tends to forget the rules when it suits him..."

"Why did you save that blood mage?" Alistair squinted at Wolf. "You wanted him to join us, didn't you? A blood mage?!"

"I knew you'd disapprove," Wolf smiled. "But yes, I wanted him to join us. He isn't a bad sort, really, just young and confused, and in a lot of trouble... But you've seen him - he would never survive the Joining in his present state..."

"I think you made the right decision there," Alistair nodded. "Let the First Enchanter deal with him. We've got plenty of our own fish to fry."

They sat in silence for a while, then Alistair spoke again.

"Thanks for the talk, Wolf," he smiled. "I know you tried to make me feel better... Well, it worked."

"Any time," Wolf touched his arm. "We share the same blood - remember? We are no strangers any longer."

"Do you ever think about home?" Alistair looked more relaxed now. "You do intend to return, don't you?"

"Eventually, yes," Wolf nodded. "That's the point. If I do not return, then I would have failed in my mission. Unless I find some way to send word... But I have nothing to send as yet anyway."

"Do you even have a home to return to?" Alistair looked up. "I mean, you're a soldier, aren't you, and soldiers..."

"...don't necessarily have homes? True," Wolf nodded. "I have no living family back in Tamriel, but there are Asgarsens buried in many a crypt all throughout Skyrim... I feel a connection to that land, to my roots... As you feel a connection to Ferelden, no doubt."

"Actually, no, I don't," Alistair scratched his head. "Never did. But I also never tried leaving for another land... Perhaps I'd feel it then. They do say that you only notice how much you value something once you lose it."

The night was clear with many stars looking down on them, and Wolf thought that they looked just like they always did back in Skyrim. It gave him comfort, somehow. Of all his companions, Alistair did seem to understand him best. "I was not unlike him when I was his age," Wolf reflected, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "I am not that much older, in truth... May be not in years... And Alistair is maturing quickly, now that he can no longer hide in Duncan's shadow... He is a recruit no longer."

...

"Elves or dwarves?" Wolf repeated his question in the morning, when the camp was all packed up and everyone was wondering where they were headed next. "Let's toss a coin!" He threw a coin in the air. "Heads! Elves then."

"But wait - you never said what was what!" Alistair laughed, pocketing the coin. "Oh, I don't mind - elves it is."

The elven tribe with whom they had an ancient treaty, inhabited the Brecilian Forest. They were easy to find, easier than Wolf had imagined. Soon it became evident why that was the case. The tribe was suffering from a terrible curse - that of the werewolf.

"There are werewolves in this forest," one of the elves explained. "Always before they kept to themselves, and we never ventured into the depths that they inhabit. But recently things changed. They now roam the entire forest and attack us on sight! We cannot even go out hunting!"

It was a dire situation. Several hunters were afflicted already, the curse was causing them severe pain, and after some time would lead either to a transformation into a werewolf, or outright death.

"We cannot honour our promise, Warden," the Keeper of the tribe said with regret. "We simply do not have any fighters left..."

He would not say how to lift the curse, he was evasive and did not want to dwell on "past events" and "ancient history", and Wolf got a distinct impression that those events and that history was the crux of the matter. He tried asking around, but no one knew what came to pass. "The Keeper has rediscovered elven immortality," some would say. "He is centuries old. He does not age and will live forever. If he speaks of something that happened in the past... it was so long ago, that no one, not even any of us, knows what it was. It was all long before any of us was born..."

"There is no such thing as elven immortality," Zevran said quietly when they stood far enough from any tribesmen. "There is elven longevity, for sure, but immortality - that's just talk. Something isn't right here."

"I had the same impression," Wolf nodded. "I suppose we'll have to find that white wolf who is apparently the source of the curse, and take it from there."

"The Keeper wants the wolf's heart," Zevran pointed out. "That won't be easy."

"I don't believe it will come to that," Wolf smiled. "Something tells me the wolf isn't a wolf... If the Keeper thinks I would not figure it out, he is gravely mistaken."

"I just hope it won't involve drinking any more blood," Alistair shuddered.

...

The forest had all manner of beasts and creatures, as any forest should. They unlocked its secrets and gained entry to the werewolf lair. They fought a lot of werewolves, but hardly any wolf. In fact, animals seemed to avoid the werewolves, which Wolf found strange.

"I've seen many werewolves before," he said at some point, examining corpses of werewolves they just killed. "They normally turn into people in death, but these do not. The curse must be of a different nature."

"These are 'permanent' werewolves, so to speak," Morrigan noted. "They never turn into people... Normal werewolves spend their lives mostly in human form, only turning into the were-form for a few nights a month... but these ones are stuck in their were-forms permanently. Someone or something is maintaining that form... A spirit or a mage..."

As they walked on, they saw glimpses of a white wolf - a wolf, not a werewolf, it had a regular animal form and white fur. It was larger than an average wolf, true, but not by much. It always kept its distance, never coming close and never attacking.

"The spirit has noticed us," Wolf pointed out. "It could have killed us long ago, but it didn't. I wonder what it is that it wants..."

...

"And now you die!!!"

The Keeper had followed them into the werewolf lair. He did not want to speak with the spirit, he simply wanted the wolf's heart. But the spirit had the power to never present the wolf form, so there was no heart to be had. The spirit wanted release... It was the Keeper who created that curse many centuries ago, when a group of humans attacked his clan, killed his son and raped his daughter. The curse was the Keeper's revenge. He summoned a powerful and angry spirit and bound it to the body of a large white wolf. Its bite spread the curse among the humans, they withdrew into the depths of the forest and lived there all this time. And the Keeper would be alive for as long as the curse existed, they were now one and the same.

"Yet killing the Keeper would not lift the curse," the spirit warned Wolf when he was about to attack the Keeper. "The Keeper is the only one who can lift it. He alone knows how the ritual ends. And when he casts that spell, I and he will both perish. The curse will be lifted and the humans as well as the elves will be cured instantly. But the Keeper has to wish to do it."

"So what's with the heart, then?" Wolf squinted. "That seems to me like an alternative way to lift the curse."

"Which may or may not work," the Keeper said in a barely audible whisper. "But there is no room in my heart for mercy. I cannot free these humans who wronged my children, I still see them, dead, every night in my sleep..." He paused, then looked up and cast a spell. "The spirit can be forced into a wolf form! When it transforms, be quick and kill it! Then cut out its heart!"

The spell fizzled out, the spirit blocked its magic.

"I shall not help you, Keeper," Wolf sheathed his sword.

"Then you will die with them!!!"

The Keeper attacked. He attacked everyone else in the hall - Wolf and his party, the spirit and half a dozen werewolves. He summoned demons and the battle was far from pre-decided.

"This magic is astounding!" Morrigan couldn't help admiring the power, while not forgetting to cast her own spells. Alistair's templar skills did nothing to the likes of the Keeper, and even the spirit was taking hits rather than dealing them out. The werewolves fell one by one. The Keeper's demons were stronger than them.

"Never mind the demons, focus on the Keeper!" Wolf shouted.

Bob, the Mabari hound, stopped mid-attack, turned around leaving the demon alone, and charged the Keeper. It was as simple as that - pinned to the ground by an angry dog, he could not cast spells, and without the Keeper's support the demons were soon defeated.

"Do not kill him!!!!" Wolf bellowed, and Bob stopped tearing at the Keeper's flesh, but still kept hold of his leg.

"Enough!" The spirit dispatched the remaining demons and cleared magic from the air. "Enough fighting! We are stronger than you, Keeper, if only just. Now, please, lift the curse. Grant me oblivion."

"You shame me, spirit," the Keeper rose with difficulty, Bob reluctantly releasing his leg. "My heart has no mercy... My heart has been completely consumed by hate... I see it now. I am not fit to lead my people, to be a Keeper. It's time to end it..."

He cast a spell, there was a flash of light and he collapsed to the ground, dead. The spirit vanished, leaving a body of a large white wolf on the floor. The werewolves turned into humans, even though many of them were dead. It didn't look like a happy ending.

"I don't think this story could have a happy end," Morrigan knelt over the body of the Keeper. "Look at him now - his blood is completely black."

...

"But look on the bright side - we've got the elves' support, yet you didn't have to drink werewolf blood," Alistair tried to lift the mood a bit when they were back at the camp. "Do you want to go straight to Orzammar? We just have the dwarves to do... That should... well... that... ugh... that won't be easy..." His voice lost its artificially joyful tone. "They fight darkspawn all the time, there's always darkspawn in the Deep Roads. That's where we Grey Wardens go to die when the call of the Black City starts clouding our judgement. Die and take as many darkspawn with us as we can... Duncan spoke of it many a time, he was hearing the Call already..."

"He died taking as many darkspawn with him as he could," Wolf said quietly. "But it is not our turn yet. We must survive it so that we could die in the final battle and take the Archdemon with us..."

"At least we won't have to drink any more blood because we drank that one already," Alistair grinned, rummaging in his pack. "Try this instead. Golden Scythe 4:90 Black."

"Serve by the drop. Do not touch," Wolf read the label. "Sounds good." He took a sip and rolled the liquor around in his mouth. "Hemlock and nightshade... frost salts, too? Magnificent. Darkspawn, here we come!"

Second Seed, 3E387 - Man to man

"Why are you sleeping with Morrigan?" Alistair sat next to Wolf by the campfire when they stopped for the night along the way. "I mean, even in camp! I know she pitches her tent away from everyone else, but we can hear you two, nonetheless..."

"Why?" Wolf grinned at him. "Why not? I like her. An interesting young woman... And anyhow, what choice do I have? Wynn and Leliana are not exactly my type, either of them."

"That's not what I meant..." Alistair shook his head. "Not why Morrigan - that's obvious, given the alternatives," he looked over his shoulder making sure that neither Wynn nor Leliana could hear them. "No, why are you doing it at all? We're here to fight darkspawn..."

"Which we do," Wolf nodded. "Plenty of that to go around... But a fine woman like Morrigan, well, that's a rarity..."

"That's what soldiers do, isn't it?" Zevran joined them, having overheard their talk. "They think nothing of it. It's a part of life like eating and sleeping... You are still young, and... wait... weren't you raised in the Chantry? May be that's why you don't see it that way..."

"I was raised in the Chantry, yes," Alistair nodded. "But templars don't take vows of celibacy. I grew up surrounded by commanding women... Reverend Mother this, Holy Sister that... They do take vows of celibacy, but no one would dare... err... or wish... to share any intimacy with them anyway..."

"What about the Sisters though?" Zevran threw a glance at Leliana. "There aren't just Mothers in the Chantry..."

"Sisters take vows of celibacy very early on," Alistair nodded. "Leliana didn't, but she isn't a full Sister. There were no Lay Sisters like that around us growing up..."

"Well, that explains a lot..." Zevran smirked and shook his head.

"Why, where did you grow up?" Alistair squinted at him.

"In a brothel," Zevran gave him a broad smile. "My mother was a... how do you put it? A working woman. She worked in a brothel."

"So you did... things... right from the early age..?" Alistair's eyes went wide.

"No, I didn't, growing up in a brothel doesn't make you mature any quicker than growing up anywhere else," Zevran laughed. "Besides, us kids weren't allowed into the salon, we never witnessed that. And when the Crows bought me... well, I was too young to know the sort of thing that kept my mother employed."

"Why did your mother sell you?" Alistair looked said. "It was she who sold you, right?"

"It was she, yes," Zevran nodded. "I bear no grudge, mind. It wasn't uncommon. She said that the life of an assassin would be better for me than the alternative... You know, if I stayed... They'd leave us alone as long as we were children, but puberty changed things."

"Was your mother a slave too?"

"Of course, she was an elf," Zevran shrugged. "Elves in these lands are either servants or slaves, and the difference is in name only... But you knew that already."

"Or they are Dalish, the one tribe that still has its freedom," Alistair nodded.

"The one with the werewolf curse," Zevran smirked. "Yes, I know, it's been lifted now. But they live like savages, and I don't just mean the forest. The way they treat outsiders... The way they looked at me..."

"What way?" Alistair was taken aback.

"Like I was a traitor for being a city elf."

The conversation died down and they sat staring into the fire for a while.

"What do you intend to do with me when the Archdemon is slain?" Zevran asked Wolf.

"How do you mean - what I intend to do with you?" Wolf raised an eyebrow. "You are not my slave."

"No, I mean, I promised to fight with you against the Blight, but my life will remain forfeit after that also," Zevran explained. "And I said: I would be your man until further notice. So it is your decision."

"Well... you would be free to do as you like then," Wolf shrugged. "Leave or stay... I could always use a friend, you know."

"A friend?" Zevran sounded surprised. "That... ah... you would consider that..." His voice trailed off. "It's nice to know I have that option," he concluded with a smile.

"Why do I have a feeling you never had a friend?" Alistair squinted.

"Well, no, that's not true," Zevran laughed. "Of course I had friends... It's just... it isn't easy, in my line of work, you know..."

"I don't think it has anything to do with your line of work," it was Wolf's turn to squint. "I do not mean to pry, but friendships do sometimes turn sour... special ones in particular..."

Zevran gave him a long look but didn't reply.

"But that takes time..." Alistair looked closely at Zevran. "And he's still so young..."

"Think he's your age?" Wolf smirked. "He's an elf, Alistair. I bet Zevran is older than both of us taken together and then some."

"How can you tell?" Zevran smiled.

"I've seen you fight," Wolf shrugged. "I trained many a recruit in my day... That finesse comes with a lifetime of practice. A human lifetime, that is."

...

While the men were discussing women, the women had a conversation of their own. Morrigan walked over to Wynn's tent and sat next to her.

"I know you resent me, Wynn, but I don't think it is because I am an apostate," she started.

"Oh? No, you're right, it's because you are a blood mage," Wynn shrugged. "Blood magic is forbidden by the Circle."

"I am no blood mage and you know it," Morrigan shook her head. "A shapeshifter, yes, but no blood mage. No, you resent me because I know what you are."

"And what am I then, young lady?" Wynn's voice became threatening.

"An abomination."

"How dare you!!!"

"Is it not so?" Morrigan squinted. "Your healing powers are astounding, but your regular spells are weak. Well, weak compared to your healing magic. Which tells me that your healing magic is not your own."

"You are very perceptive. Flemeth trained you well," Wynn said quietly. "And yet... do you think I am the same as the blood mages that we fought in the Tower?"

"The same? No, I never said that," Morrigan shook her head. "You didn't turn into a fleshy sack like they did... although of course there's no telling what's under your robes..."

"I did NOT turn into a fleshy sack!" Wynn exclaimed in indignation. "Watch your tongue, young lady!"

"Or what? I have Flemeth for a mother, I shall not be intimidated that easily!"

"Well, alright." Wynn slid the hem of her robe up her leg. "No fleshy sacks, see?"

"So, then the spirit inside you is not a demon," Morrigan nodded. "I thought as much. A nice benevolent spirit that gives you the healing power... But it is a spirit all the same. A spirit is possessing your soul."

"I know..." Wynn sighed. "I know that spirit. I met it in the Fade many times before... At least I think it was the same spirit. I've always felt it watching over me... That made me take unnecessary risks at times..." She smiled and laughed, and Morrigan thought that perhaps those risks weren't always magic or battle related. "I am an old woman, Morrigan, older than I look. I should be dead. I fought a demon during the uprising in the Tower... before your group arrived... you know we had been locked in, right? Well... I fought a demon and lost... It killed me. But then the spirit raised me again, gave me life... And together we defeated that demon, as well as many others. I could not stay with the Circle after that, of course... And I do not believe that I have long to live... Spirits too are mortal, in a way... they can dissolve in the Void. And I believe that the spirit that's inside me, is slowly weakening."

"Being bound to a body and another soul without imposing its will must be draining," Morrigan nodded. "I've read of this type of possession... For possession it is, of course... The spirit will die after a while unless it imposes its will over yours and feeds on your soul. Yes, even benevolent spirits have to eat."

"Exactly," Wynn agreed. "But this one seems to be really pure... A Spirit of Faith, perhaps? I do not think there's a danger of it feeding on me... but it does mean that it and I don't have that many years left to live."

"And now you joined the Wardens to fight the Blight, but you want them to do it squeaky clean and correct in compensation for having a... well... a possessed mage among them!" Morrigan frowned, but avoided calling Wynn an abomination again.

"I joined the Wardens to fight the Blight, yes, but I did not relinquish my values!" Wynn replied hotly. "Blood magic is out and demonology is forbidden! You saw what happened at Soldier's Peak! It never ends well!"

"That didn't go according to plan, granted," Morrigan tried to calm the atmosphere. "But surely you knew what Grey Wardens are... how they come to be Grey Wardens... what gives them their power. That's blood magic, Wynn."

"They drink darkspawn blood so that they can sense darkspawn, yes, I know," she nodded. "It is blood magic, technically, yes. But they don't use it for anything else, so that's alright."

"Is it now?" Morrigan smirked. "So, it's just some form of benevolent blood magic, right? Used for good?" She gave a short laugh. "Oh come off it, Wynn, you know better! Blood magic is blood magic, and if you accept this mild form, you must accept it all. It isn't the blood that's the problem here, it's the spells that the mages cast!"

"Which can be horrific! Spells that cannot be cast without blood!" Wynn wasn't giving up.

"May be. Or may be not," Morrigan wasn't giving up either. "Blood is just a source of power. Lyrium is another, but blood is stronger. What if a different source of power was found, some other type of lyrium, and that would then allow to cast those horrific spells? Will you outlaw all magic then?"

"That... that is a terrifying prospect," Wynn nodded, suddenly growing quiet. "I have thought about that... there are some old scrolls... describing something like that..." She looked at Morrigan. "I do not know which substance it is, I do not believe we have it now, but it seems to do just what you say... replace blood as a source of power... may be even supersede it..." She paused, but Morrigan didn't say anything. "I fear that if such a source appeared, the Chantry would indeed insist on outlawing all magic altogether... Perhaps they'll want to turn all mages into tranquils, or else just hunt us down... who knows..."

Dark ghosts of times to come circled around the two mages sitting by a campfire in a forest infested with darkspawn. They both felt their presence, but the Veil was still holding strong. The Grey Wardens on the other side of the camp suddenly looked up. "Danger approaches!" Alistair cried and everyone jumped to their feet and picked up their weapons. Darkspawn rose from under the earth.

...

"How did this happen?" Sten asked the one question that was on everyone's mind after that epic battle. "How did they know where to find us?"

"Their blood led them to us," Alistair answered. "Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn because we share in their blood. But equally darkspawn and the Archdemon can sense Grey Wardens... Yet usually they stay away, as our taint is weaker than theirs. This was a directed attack." He looked at Wolf and Wolf nodded.

"I saw him too. The Archdemon is sending us a message. We must not dally."

Midyear, 3E387 - Darkspawn

"The dwarves battle darkspawn all the time," Alistair was telling his companions in an attempt to prepare them for the trip to Orzammar, the capital of the Dwarven Kingdom. "It is only during the times of the Blight that darkspawn come to the surface in large numbers, but they are always present underground. And as we all know, the Dwarven Kingdom is entirely underground... You do all know that, right?" He looked at each of them in turn, and everyone nodded. "Right. Well. There are several levels of underground, too... The city is just below the surface, then there are mines and then there are the Deep Roads. That's an ancient network of highways that the dwarves had built to connect individual underground cities with each other... Unfortunately it was largely destroyed during one of the previous Blights, and now it is completely infested by darkspawn... All the time, not just during the Blight. So in fact, the Deep Roads and the Dwarven Kingdom is what keeps the darkspawn from surfacing most of the time..."

"We should show respect, then," Sten pointed out. "I've heard of this too. The dwarves keep the darkspawn at bay."

"I wonder if it is any different there now, what with the Archdemon at large..." Morrigan asked, leafing through a book. "This is an account of one of the previous Blights, but it does not speak of the dwarves at all..."

"Written by a human, no doubt," Zevran said mostly to himself, but everyone heard him.

"It doesn't seem right to ask the dwarves for help against the Blight since they are already helping, every day of every year, Blight or no Blight..." Wynne looked at Alistair. "But you say they signed a treaty? And you want to pursue it?"

"We should at least go there and talk to them," Wolf joined the conversation. "Yes, we have a treaty between the Dwaven Kingdom and the Grey Wardens promising help to fight the Blight on the surface. Because the Archdemon always makes his final stand on the surface, you can't actually catch him underground, as I understand it. And the dwarves are interested in defeating the Archdemon and stopping the Blight. I suppose it reduces darkspawn incursions for them too."

"Well, if you put it like that..." Wynne shrugged. "Oh, very well."

"You'd think she's the head of the Grey Warden Order, really," Alistair said in Wolf's ear. "Does she know we don't actually need her approval?"

"She does, but it doesn't stop her lecturing me on how to be a Grey Warden," Wolf shrugged. "About my public responsibility and stuff... She keeps calling me a 'young man', too. It was flattering at first, but now it just sounds like an insult."

"Like you don't know what you're doing," Alistair nodded. "You're young compared to her, of course. How old are you, actually? Just curious... You don't need to answer if you don't want to... never mind I asked, it's none of my business at all... but I'm curious, is all..."

"It's fine, it's not a secret!" Wolf laughed. "I am thirty-nine."

"Wow!" Alistair whistled and several heads turned. "Sorry... I just somehow thought you were closer to me in age... I'm only twenty-six, see..."

"And there's nothing wrong with that either," Wolf shrugged. "Although it is too young to die, Archdemon or not..."

"Some say the Archdemon appears in the Deep Roads in times of the Blight," Alistair said with a somber face. "Do you think we'll see it? I mean, do you think it will show itself to us?"

"I think it will," Wolf nodded. "That dream I had last night... He spoke to me again."

"Me too," Alistair nodded. "He means business."

"He's toying with us like a cat playing with a mouse," Wolf frowned. "He could have eliminated us ages ago - the last attack on our camp made that clear. But he doesn't do it for some reason... Perhaps he doesn't believe that we pose a threat? If so, we should continue looking like we don't know what we're doing..."

"I agree - you don't know what you're doing," Sten suddenly joined them. "Where's your planning, your strategy? You do not live up to the great fame of the Grey Wardens."

"Do we not?" Wolf turned to him. "What fame do you speak of, anyway?"

"The legends surrounding your Order," Sten shrugged. "They speak of Grey Wardens as great warriors and strategists... But instead we are running around the country like a bunch of errand boys and I have yet to see any evidence of strategy, great or otherwise! You've made no plans or preparations to reach the Archdemon! You don't even know where he is!"

"No, we don't, and therein lies the difficulty," Wolf nodded. "We cannot take the fight to him - he takes the fight to us. We must be ready to respond. Which is what we are trying to prepare for. Sten... isn't it a rank rather than a name? Quite a high rank in the Quanari military, as far as I can gather," Wolf squinted. "Oh yes, I've been reading books since I arrived... So then, Sten, do you think you could do better against the Blight?"

"Yes," Sten said proudly and walked away with a smile.

"Hmm..." Alistair shook his head. "He says yes and walks away... Great help he is..."

...

Orzammar was in turmoil. The dwarven King had died just a few weeks ago, and now the Kingdom needed to choose his successor. The Assembly was deadlocked between two candidates: the late King's son and the late King's general... and naturally it fell to the Grey Wardens to break that deadlock.

"We have no choice but to meddle in dwarven politics!" Wolf was saying with irritation when he and Alistair were once again sitting by the campfire trying to figure out what to do. "The Blight is not going to wait for them to make up their minds! And we'll have no help until they have a king, that much is clear."

"Dwarven kings are not hereditary," Alistair nodded. "They are elected. Usually the ruling king leaves a testament endorsing a successor, and the late king did that - he endorsed his general. But his son, Prince Bhelen, put forward his own candidature as well, which he has the right to do... Every noble has the right to claim the throne... Can you imagine? What a mess!"

"So they can't choose between the prince and the general," Wolf nodded. "We'll have to get to know those people."

But they could not get to know them until they've proven their "loyalty" to one or the other. Wolf asked what was required for that, and found both tasks distasteful. The Prince wanted him to deliver some compromising papers to two nobles to show that the general was dishonest. The general, on the other hand, wanted the Warden to fight in the Arena as his personal champion.

"Either get involved into a scandal or kill someone in the Arena as a show of support!" Wolf swore. "I am not his champion! He wouldn't even meet with me first! So I suppose it's going to be delivering papers."

As it turned out, it really didn't matter whom the Wardens supported - the Assembly was still deadlocked, now may be even worse than before.

"There is a sure way to break the deadlock, but it requires venturing into the Deep Roads," the Prince told Wolf. "I'd say it shouldn't be an issue for a Grey Warden, but this isn't a regular expedition. This requires going into the Dead Trenches... the area that's overwhelmed by darkspawn even in the quietest times... so what it is like now that the Blight is on... only the Archdemon knows that."

"What happened in the Dead Trenches?" Wolf prepared for a long story.

"We lost that whole part of the Deep Roads during one of the previous Blights," the Prince shrugged. "They were sealed off in order to save the rest of us. It must have been terrible for those dwarves that were sacrificed... but such is life in the Dwarven Kingdom," he sighed. "However, this is not the important point. It is rumoured that the secret to making golems is there. That secret was lost during that Blight. If you want our help, find Branka - one crazy woman who's taken her whole House and went there in search of that secret. She is a living Paragon and her vote is worth the entire Assembly. If you find her, and especially if she already managed to uncover that secret, you will have the strongest golem army since that fatal Blight."

"It doesn't look like I have a choice," Wolf sighed and the Prince smiled and inclined his head.

"This sounds like another trial by blood," Alistair said quietly. "May be not drinking blood as such... but something equally abhorrent."

"I was getting used it it already, myself," Wolf smirked. "Bring it on. Although I do agree with you - this will be much worse than what we've taken on until now."

...

"We should keep our camp on the surface though!" Leliana shivered when Wolf announced they had to mount an expedition into the depths of the Deep Roads. "I've heard horror stories about the Deep Roads!"

"The stories are probably true and the reality will likely be much worse," Alistair nodded. "But you cannot have an expedition into the Deep Roads while coming back to camp on the surface every night. We won't get very far that way."

"You mean there are no exits along the way..?" Leliana looked somber.

"I shall never get the stench out of my blades," Zevran sighed. "But I am with you. I'll just have to buy new blades when this is all over..."

"I don't like it but it does make sense," Sten agreed. "We must move the camp as we progress. Let's hope we'll find food there and won't be reduced to eating only darkspawn..."

"ONLY darkspawn???" Leliana exclaimed in horror. "You mean, we are going to be eating SOME darkspawn either way??? I am NOT going! The Maker would never agree to that!"

"Sorry to hear it, Leliana," Wolf lied. "I too rather dislike the smell."

"We'll purify it as best we can," Wynne nodded. "Let's gather herbs before going."

...

"Just how many more of these are hiding in this cave???" Alistair exclaimed putting down yet another walking corpse. "I expected darkspawn, not undead!"

"Remember what the Prince told us how they sealed off this part of the Deep Roads? I bet these undead are the dwarves that were locked in here to die... I can't imagine their spirits to be at rest, somehow." Wolf looked around, making sure that all the corpses were still again.

"Oh great," Alistair sighed as he preferred not to swear.

Progress through the Deep Roads was slow. They met several dwarven patrols along the way, but the further in they went, the fewer signs of living people they found. Besides the darkspawn and the undead, they also faced giant spiders and "deepstalkers" - a kind of half-chicken half-lizard type of creature that liked to hunt in packs. Strange though they were, they were living creatures without any dark taint, and thus they became the primary source of food for our party. So far no one had to eat darkspawn, not even the Grey Wardens.

"Aren't you immune to eating darkspawn?" Zevran asked one evening. "I mean, you already drank the blood... So ingesting more of it should make no difference, no?"

"It won't kill us, if that's what you mean," Alistair looked up. "But this stuff accumulates. We only drank a few drops of blood... feeding on darkspawn regularly is a different matter, though. It would..."

"No, no, don't continue!" Zevran interrupted him. "It accumulates - that's enough for me! I don't want to hear about all the stages! I see it before me in every battle, so I have an idea already!"

From that point on, roasted deepstalker tasted genuinely delicious even in spite of the smell.

Midyear, 3E387 - Branka

"Branka, you are crazy," a dwarf with a fire-red beard appeared as if out of nowhere when Wolf and his party finally found Branka. She stood in the very forge where golems were created centuries ago. "You turned your whole House into darkspawn just so you could have the secret to golem making," the dwarf shook his head. "You know that we should kill you for this, right?"

"I know, Oghren," she turned around to look at him. "That's why I left you behind. I also knew that sooner or later you'd find me, husband."

"Can someone explain what is going on?" Alistair was looking at Oghren and Branka in turn. "You two are married? And what's with the 'turn the whole House into darkspawn' bit?"

"We went looking for the secret to making golems because another Blight is upon us," Branka spoke first. "And I presume that something happened in Orzammar and the Assembly is deadlocked and so they sent you to find me so that I, the sole living Paragon, would show them the way. Am I close?" She smirked with disdain.

"That's right, the king died a few weeks ago, and they cannot agree on the successor," Wolf nodded.

"Of course not." Branka shook her head. "Well, we found the secret to golems, and I can tell you all about it, as well as make new golems to fight the Blight..."

"But you are not going to like it," Oghren finished her sentenced. "I know you, Branka. You are crazy but you are not evil. You don't like it either, but you accepted the sacrifice. And the guilt. There's more to it than just sacrificing your own House, is there? As if that weren't enough already... Come on now, tell the Warden the whole story. He's a surfacer, he doesn't know how things are down here..."

"The smith who invented golems used to work here," Branka spoke again. "He built golems to fight the Blight, and no one was complaining when they were keeping the people safe... But then of course the kings and princes each wanted their personal golems, since the Blight had been defeated, and there was no real need for them any longer... As if that could ever be true in the Deep Roads! There's always darkspawn here, Blight or no Blight..." She sighed and continued. "The rulers started demanding more and more golems... So the smith refused building them altogether, closed down this forge and placed traps from here to Orzammar... Or at least that's what he meant to do, I'm certain. He rigged the roads for miles and miles. No one was to find this forge, no one was to know the secret to making golems."

"Ah, this is where sacrificing your own House comes in," Oghren took a large swig of mead from his hip flask. "You're right, Branka, I would not have let you do that."

"We tried disarming the traps, but they were too clever for us," Branka shrugged. "I think they were not even meant to be disarmed, I don't believe it was possible. The only way to get through was to die trying. I didn't send anyone into those traps, once we figured out what they were. Yes, we had some deaths before that, but not by intent. So then... we needed a small army of creatures to send into the traps..."

"So you... No!!!" Oghren exclaimed in horror. "How could you, Branka?!"

"What was I supposed to do?" She turned to him. "The Blight is on, Oghren. The Grey Wardens Order is small and weak, royal complacency decimated them upside just as badly as it decimated our golem army down here. You know what happened at Ostagar... Yes, we've had word," she looked at Wolf. "The Archdemon came bragging..."

"But to turn your own house into darkspawn..!!!"

"Yes, I've done this," Branka looked stoic. "Our House paid the ultimate price."

"I still don't understand..." Alistair scratched the back of his head. "Did they all die on the traps?"

"Worse!!!" Oghren took another swig of his mead. "That Broodmother that we fought just before? That was one of the ladies from our House! And all the darkspawn were her offsprings!"

"It is true," Branka responded without a trace of emotion. "There was no other way. We needed hundreds if not thousands of bodies to die on those damnable traps. We fed darkspawn flesh to the women of my House until they started to turn into darkspawn themselves, then we continued with the feeding, and then some of them became broodmothers. They were producing darkspawn in troves and we sent them to the traps to die..."

"But the darkspawn that was here before, did not leave you alone either," Oghren seemed to have understood long ago what happened. "Which is why none of the men survived."

"They fell in battle, yes," Branka nodded. "Two years is a long time."

"You should not have left me," Oghren looked at her and Wolf thought he saw a tear glitter in his eye.

"I left you behind so that you could live..." Branka smiled weakly.

There was a pause in conversation that no one wanted to break. Then Branka shook her head and turned away.

"But now that we are here," Wynne said quietly. "There's still a choice to make, isn't there? You still haven't told us about the secret to making golems."

"Indeed," Branka turned around to look at her. "It's right here. The technique, the materials... as well as the driving force - that which animates a golem. Look around this hall. You will see it for yourselves."

The hall they were in had a forge in one corner and some materials strewn around, but otherwise it was fairly empty. If the secret was there, it was hiding in plain sight.

"These walls are highly polished," Morrigan noted. "More so than the walls in the Royal Palace in Orzammar even... Polished and ready to receive inscriptions..."

"There are inscriptions on this wall," Alistair called from the other end of the hall. "I am not that good at reading Dwarven script... but I think... No..! But yes... these are names..!"

"What animates a golem is a mortal soul," Wynne looked at Branka in horror. "These are the names of the dwarves sacrificed on that very anvil!" She pointed at the smithing anvil in the hall, rage rising in her. "But this is blood magic!"

"Dwarves don't do magic, Wynne," Morrigan interjected without taking her eyes off the carved wall. "And souls don't bleed..."

"It's just as bad! Or worse!" Wynne's rage seemed quite uncharacteristic for her.

"Is that Wynne speaking or is it the spirit inside Wynne raging at the fact that the spirits of these dwarves were used to animate golems?" Morrigan walked over to Wynne and touched her shoulder. Wynne jerked and looked at Morrigan as if seeing her there for the first time.

"Did I..?" She said weakly. "Oh my..." She shook her head.

Wolf watched them but could not quite understand what just happened. "Have to ask Morrigan later," he made a mental note. Something about Wynne wasn't right.

"So, the secret to making golems is that you have to sacrifice dwarves for it and confine their souls to these stone husks," Alistair turned around, looking at Branka. "Is that right? And of course, these were volunteers at first, but we all know how these things tend to progress..."

"Exactly," Branka nodded. "It is one thing to sacrifice yourself so that a golem with your soul would be defending your people from the Blight. But it is a completely different thing if that golem is just meant to scrub the floors in your master's palace or beat up his opposition!" She scoffed. "The original smith refused to make golems for that. Then he too was turned into a golem."

"What?! How???" Alistair couldn't believe his ears. "But who built all the traps????"

"He did," Branka replied. "As a golem... or before that... or may be he had an accomplice... I am not sure on that point," she shrugged. "But there are carved panels here that tell us that it was his intention to hide this forge from the world so that no one would be able to make any more golems."

"And can you do it?" Alistair held his breath. "Take a person's soul and stick it into a stone husk?"

"I know how to do it," Branka nodded. "And I shall do it to build golems to fight in this Blight."

"Absolutely not!!!" Alistair exploded in anger. "No way!!!"

"It is not blood magic, but it is not far off!" Wynne agreed, now with her own voice. "It is immoral to use it."

"Isn't it up to the dwarves, really?" Zevran joined in. "It's their history, their culture, their souls... I don't see why we should have any say in this."

"I agree," Wolf nodded. "It is not our place to tell them what to do. But we still need to resolve the issue with the deadlocked Assembly. We need the help of the Dwarven Kingdom, with or without the golems. Branka, you need to come with us to Orzammar."

"She is not going anywhere!!!" A booming voice echoed through the hall. "She is a traitor!!! She will die here!!"

A golem stood among them, ready to squash Branka on the spot.

"Master smith!!" Both Branka and Oghren seemed to realise who it was. "Warden! You have to help us defeat this golem!!" They shouted.

"Warden! You have to help me defeat this traitor!!!" The golem shouted at the same time. "Choose now!!!"

Everyone froze, waiting for Wolf to choose a side. He shot a quick glance at his companions and wondered if any of them would turn on him if he made the "wrong" choice. They probably would not mind if he chose to kill Branka... but he felt it would backfire during the battles with darkspawn that awaited them. He could choose to support Branka and battle the golem, and that would undoubtedly make a huge difference in the battles against the Blight... but Alistair would disapprove, potentially causing a split between the only two Grey Wardens of Ferelden. Wynne would disapprove as well, but Wolf was less concerned with that. He hesitated a moment longer. Alistair...

Alistair seemed to understand Wolf's dilemma. He met his gaze and frowned, then sighed and nodded slightly. He disapproved, but he would not stand against it...

"Grey Wardens stand with Branka!" Wolf declared and Alistair drew his sword. "The dwarves will decide for themselves whether or not they build golems!"

The golem of the old master smith attacked. He immobilised Branka and activated several golems to fight for him.

"I will not stand for blood magic!" Wynne showed her colours and joined the golems.

"Why am I not surprised!" Zevran shot her a glance and cloaked - she would not stand a chance against an assassin of his caliber.

Morrigan started casting without another word.

The battle was ferocious. Zevran knocked out Wynne quickly, but that didn't make much of a difference since she didn't have much offensive magic anyway. She was their healer, and when she refused to heal, the damage was done. Morrigan now had to heal as well as fight.

"Can a dagger really damage a golem?" Zevran was wondering, eyeing one of the towering husks. "But there should be some sensitive points on them, no? Some connectors... those shiny bits... perhaps I should try hitting that... and try not to get squashed in the process..."

Wolf, Alistair and Oghren took a golem each, with Zevran lashing at the fourth golem as best he could. Surprisingly, Oghren was the first to fall - the strongest warrior with the largest axe... but even he could not take more than a few hits from a golem.

"Circle around them, don't get hit!" Wolf shouted to Alistair, trying to deflect the freed up golem from Morrigan. Did he have enough healing potions to take him through that fight? It was hard to say...

"Use your blood!" Morrigan shouted through the noise of the battle. "Your dragon blood! Take life from the dead!"

May be not dead, but certainly knocked out... There was Wynne and Oghren on the ground, and a few darkspawn corpses a little further on. Ahem... Wolf never tried it before... "Should have tried it before..." he thought, but there was no time for hesitation. He focused on the people on the ground, suddenly seeing pools of energy around them - their life force. "I need that," he thought. His blood boiled - or at least this was how it felt - and suddenly he felt better. The pools around Wynne and Oghren reduced in size a bit, then started to replenish, slowly. He would not kill them if he was careful...

Morrigan was under attack. She had to focus all her spells on the one golem that decided to crush her, and with that she could no longer help the others. "That would be the end of us," Zevran reflected. He hit another shiny kink in the golem before him, cloaked and ran to Morrigan's. "I don't know if this will be enough... but I have to try." He put all his force into a single hit at the lower back of that golem, hitting a faintly glittering gem. The gem flared, suddenly emitting blinding light. The golem roared and raised its fists above Morrigan's head... the next moment she would be dead. "Nooooo!!!" Zevran lunged at the shining gem again, not really seeing his target but hoping it would be still in the same spot as before... The next thing he knew was a crushing blow coming down on him from behind - another golem had noticed his exploits.

...

"Rise and fight again, I command you!" An invisible force lifted Zevran from the ground and sat him upright. He opened his eyes and realised that he wasn't dead. The pain in his body was making a shrill trembling noise, or may be it just seemed that way... pain couldn't make a noise, could it? "Your fight is not yet done!!" He heard Morrigan's voice and saw Alistair on the ground and Wolf fencing against two golems at once, shielding Morrigan.

"The fight..." Zevran inhaled deeply. "Right. Coming, dear!" He was not dead, and the fight was not yet done.

...

"That was a hard one," Wolf helped Alistair up when the golems were finally defeated. Oghren and Wynne also rose from their knockouts. Morrigan dropped to the floor, exhausted.

"What do you want me to do about making golems?" Branka approached Wolf. "You saved my life, so I'll let you decide."

"It's up to the dwarves to decide," Wolf replied. "Grey Wardens will welcome what help you can provide, with or without golems."

"Golems it is, then," Branka's face was set. "Oh, I know - it's up to the Assembly. But they will do as I say."

Alistair sighed, looking somber. Wynne frowned.

"We survived," Wolf looked at them all. "I know some of you will object to the choice I made. I am glad you are alive and well enough to complain... but leave it until we're back at the camp, will you?"

Wolf and Zevran helped Morrigan up and led her to the camp between them, as she could barely walk, the others followed. The mood was dark and brooding, but everyone was keeping their objections until they had a chance to rest.

Midyear, 3E387 - Taking sides

"I cannot forgive you that you allowed Branka to live and make more golems," Wynne frowned when they got to the camp. "Their spirits will be tortured, stuck in those stone bodies."

"Are you sure?" Wolf squinted. "I know it was what you would call an immoral choice. But do tell how it is that you know about the torture of the spirits. I think there's more to your argument than just morality."

"Well... I suppose it's time I told you," Wynne nodded. "There is a spirit living inside me... It saved my life and it is through it that I am still living. It sustains me... I don't believe I could be alive without it. It does not impose its thinking on me, I am still my own person... for the most part..."

"Except when it comes to standing up for the spirits of those dwarves, the spirits that are going to be confined to stone bodies instead of their original dwarven ones," Wolf nodded. "I see. So how shall I address you then? Wynne or Spirit?"

"Ah..." Wynne shook her head. "I fear you are right. Spirit, in this instance, I think... But it is a good and benevolent spirit! Not like any of those demons!!"

"Oh, I am sure that's true," Wolf nodded. "Your mind is not clouded by excessive anger or thirst for knowledge or anything like that. But the Spirit inside you has an agenda, and when events here touch it, it takes over. Like now."

"I..." Wynne looked lost. "I think you are right... Did Morrigan tell you this? She noticed it a while ago already."

"Morrigan?" Wolf looked up. "I haven't talked to her about this yet..."

"But you two spend most nights together..."

"Well, we aren't exactly discussing spirits, if you know what I mean..."

"I know what you mean, young man," Wynne laughed, releasing the tension. "I was young once... and even after that... but never mind," she smiled at him. "The question you want to ask is of course whether the spirit inside me is going to be a problem, whether I am going to be subdued and taken over by it. I do not believe so. And as proof, I am going to completely ignore the fact that you made an immoral choice regarding the golems. I am clear-headed enough to see its strategic value, both for the Grey Wardens in the fight against this Blight, and for the dwarves themselves in protecting their kingdom from the ever present darkspawn in the Deep Roads. I only hope that Branka will be less willing to accommodate petty requests for golems and will stop before too many dwarves are sacrificed... and if anyone can stand up to a king, it is she... a stronger-willed woman is hard to imagine."

"Branka has a one track mind, but she is not evil," Oghren joined them, overhearing the last sentence. "I know it doesn't look that way seeing how she sacrificed her whole House... but I know her better than she knows herself. You'll see."

"I didn't like that decision either," Alistair was drawn to the conversation as well. "It's immoral. What Branka did turning her House into darkspawn... that's abhorrent! I can't believe you let her live!" He glared at Wolf.

"I let her live because the choice was between her and the old smith that had been turned into a golem," Wolf replied. "That smith had an agenda. He wanted to destroy his invention because it was 'evil'. He was ridden with guilt for what happened to too many dwarves, and he wanted to soothe his ego. Oh, Branka has an ego the size of the Empire as well, sure, but she wanted to raise the Dwarven Kingdom out of the decline. Between the two of them, I chose Branka because she is looking ahead while the old smith was looking back."

"Hmm... Well, it's done now..." Alistair shook his head. "I suppose if I wanted things to be done my way, I should not have let you be the leader..." He walked off, still shaking his head.

That night Wolf slept in his own tent. His choice of Branka and her golems weighed heavily upon him, even though he might have looked unwavering to the others. He had to make a choice and he made it, and now he had to stand firm as the others voiced their objections, even if many of them resonated with him, too. Stand firm, or else that choice would be undone, resulting in a loss of both choices.

...

"This was the last of the treaties," Alistair spoke at breakfast. He no longer looked torn, he too must have spent a sleepless night. "We have assembled the forces as best we could. We should return to Arl Eamon and tell him we're ready for the Landsmeet."

"Go to Arl Eamon, aye," Wolf nodded. "But are we ready? Have you decided whether you want to be King?"

"I have and I do not," Alistair drew himself up. "I might still be forced into it if... well... depending on what happens next... But my choice would be to remain a Grey Warden."

"Arl Eamon is not going to like it," Wolf shook his head. "He's been really pushing for your candidacy... Why is that, do you think?"

"Well, he is my uncle..." Alistair looked sideways. "While I do not believe that he would want the throne for himself, he does have a son..."

"And you have no children," Wolf gave him a long look. "Yet."

"And I won't have any, if I can help it," Alistair nodded. "Give it a few more years, and I won't be able to, anyway... the taint, you know. It destroys your body over time. Grey Wardens should not have children even while they still can because those children would be born tainted."

"Yes, producing more darkspawn is not something we should be striving for," Wolf smirked. "Seems wrong, somehow."

They laughed, then Alistair continued in a lighter tone.

"We'll speak with Arl Eamon, he will be pressuring me into taking the crown, I'd like to avoid it if I can, but ultimately I understand my responsibility... Ferelden needs a ruler. So if I have to, I'll give it my best... But I sure hope it could be avoided..."

...

The conversations that followed went just as Alistair had predicted. Arl Eamon was adamant that Alistair should become King, and Alistair kept rebuffing it. Finally, the day of the Landsmeet drew near and the capital was filled with nobility.

"The queen has asked you to come and speak with her," Arl Eamon addressed Wolf. "The late King's widow, yes. I expect she will ask for your support in crowning her as the new ruler of Ferelden. I hope you understand that you have to refuse. Alistair will be King."

"I hear you, Arl Eamon," Wolf nodded. "I'll go talk to the queen."

Wolf walked away, and Arl Eamon followed him with his gaze. "Hmm... He said he heard me... he didn't say he'd do as I asked..."

The queen was a very business-like woman. She had ruled the country from the shadow of her husband the late King because he could not stand all the boring details, as she put it. She had been a good ruler. People loved her as well as they loved their late King.

"It is in the best interests of Ferelden to maintain the same governance, especially with the Blight on our doorstep," she looked straight at Wolf. "Alistair is very much like his late half-brother: he hates the boring details. I would be a better ruler than he."

"So, why are you talking to me about this, exactly?" Wolf squinted. "Isn't it up to the Landsmeet? Isn't there going to be a vote to put one of you on the throne? I am an outsider in this."

"Yes, I noticed your foreign accent," the queen smiled. "Not an accent I recognise... What are you? You're not an observer, you're too close to it... Then what? An agent sent to meddle in our political affairs?" She squinted, but Wolf wasn't fooled - she didn't believe it herself.

"I am here to fight the Blight," he answered. "Not to meddle in your politics, no. I didn't want to meddle in the politics at Orzammar either, but there was no other way. I seem to have to take sides wherever I go, and Alistair being a prince does not help at all. He does not want to be King, by the way. But if there is even the slightest possibility of seeing him persecuted under your rule, you can forget about my support."

"I... thank you for your candid response," the queen said slowly. "Yes, normally the first thing I would do as a crowned Queen is behead him... to protect my throne, you see. Perhaps not so much from Alistair himself, as I believe you that he doesn't want it, but from his future children..."

"Grey Wardens don't have children, My Lady," Wolf shook his head. "The taint, you see... It would be a bad idea even if it were possible."

"Oh my goodness, yes, of course!" The queen exclaimed with a visible relief. "I had not thought of that... Well, that changes things, indeed! If I don't need to expect any royal bastards from him... then, I suppose, I could just lock him up in a tower instead," she beamed at Wolf.

"No."

"Oh, you are a hard man to please!" She pouted her lips. "Very well. I swear that Alistair will be left alone as long as he remains a Grey Warden and stays out of politics. And swears a public vote of allegiance to me, of course."

"Well... that sounds good and proper... but will you keep this promise, I wonder?" Wolf said softly. "You do realise, of course, that your father, General Loghain, will be executed."

"By whom?" The queen smirked. "If I am Queen..."

"By those whom he wronged," Wolf's voice sounded hard and cold. "You are the late King's widow, and you are a widow through your father's actions."

"I..." The queen swallowed hard. "But he is my father!"

"If you wish to be the ruler of Ferelden, you have to see justice done. He betrayed the late King and the Grey Wardens at Ostagar. He cannot be allowed to live."

The queen walked back and forth in the room, clearly in turmoil.

"I understand..." She finally spoke. "I shall not order his execution but I will not stand in your way if you do, before I am crowned..." She made an effort to control herself. "My promise to leave Alistair alone so long as he remains a Grey Warden, still stands."

"Very well," Wolf nodded. "We'll see how things go during the Landsmeet. But if Alistair's future in our Order is assured, I shall support your bid for the throne. That does require that Ferelden once again has an official Order of Grey Wardens, complete with a base and all, you understand..."

The queen remained silent for a moment, a searching look on her face.

"Who are you really, Warden?" She asked quietly. "This isn't your first negotiation... Does your Empire plan an invasion of Thedas?"

"No such thing," Wolf shook his head. "I told you the truth - I am here to fight the Blight. Stop it from spilling over... Our goals align on this, My Lady."

"And so it would seem," she nodded. "Well, it does fit with your requests, anyway. Ferelden should restore its Order of Grey Wardens that was lost... what..? some three hundred years ago?" She shot a glance at Wolf but he intercepted it. Grey Warden affairs were confidential and he was not about to divulge what they had learned at the Soldier's Peak. "Fine, don't tell me," she smiled. "I can see that you know that story, one way or the other... But the current Blight made it abundantly clear that we cannot afford not to have Grey Wardens here. I shall do as you ask."

...

The Landsmeet took place the following day. As expected, Loghain attempted to sway the nobility to crown him as the ruler of Ferelden. But too many chose to side with the late King, believing that it was Loghain's betrayal that led to disaster at Ostagar. Loghain's next move was predictable: he accused Wolf and Alistair of plotting to take over the throne, with Alistair as King and Wolf as the actual ruler behind him. "A puppet and his puppeteer", as he put it. That remark was his final mistake. Wolf declared it to be an insult, thus demanding to duel Loghain then and there. Heads turned - most people thought it was suicide. "Death by General Loghain," some whispered.

A duel was announced. They would fight until one of them yielded, or until death, as the case might be. The Landsmeet would then abide by the result of the duel.

Loghain was a serious opponent. A seasoned fighter in a massive suit of armour that he wore as easily as a chamber dress, against a lightly armoured Grey Warden with a small shield with a spike and a curious glittering sword. "The Warden stands no chance," was the verdict.

And then something unexpected happened - the Warden cut his wrist and a spray of blood hit his opponent, with a few drops landing on the skin. Loghain reeled in pain... and something else... Was that horror? No, horror came later, when the Warden lunged forward, his sword extended, the spike of his shield flying into Loghain's face and drawing blood... The old General was stunned - in all his years he never fought a Reaver before, nor a Berserker, nor a Grey Warden... nor a Dragonborn. "Use your blood! Your dragon blood!" Morrigan's words rang in Wolf's ears. "Dominate the battlefield!" His old Legate's words mixed with Morrigan's. "The Legion's Might stands behind you, Agent!" Wolf lunged and lunged again, his exquisitely sharp sword delivering blow after blow into the kinks of the General's armour, into the joints not even protected by a layer of chainmail, either out of concern for excessive weight or out of overconfidence... "Blood magic is wrong, except may be when it is used for all the right reasons..." He recalled overhearing a heated argument between Wynne and Morrigan. "You cannot accept just a little blood magic!" Morrigan retorted. "It's either all or nothing!"


"Krii Lun Aus!" The words rose in Wolf's mind, something he read on a wall in the tallest tower of an isolated castle back in Skyrim. "Kill, Leach, Suffer!" A death mark. A dragon rose before his eyes; was that the Archdemon? It was hard to tell, they all looked so alike... It breathed fire, but instead of burning, it filled Wolf's lungs with air, ready to be expelled. "Krii Lun Aus!" He shouted, and cracks appeared in the General's armour, sweat beads covering his forehead.

"Enough, I yield, Warden," Loghain sank to his knees and Wolf stopped his attacks. "I haven't witnessed such power since... well... in a very long time. I see now that Grey Wardens aren't just soldiers with a fancy name, after all."

"Grey Warden won the duel!" Someone declared. "Now, Warden, whom do you endorse as the ruler of Ferelden?"

"Ah, no, not yet," Wolf looked around. "General Loghain must see justice done first." The hall went quiet. Everyone held their breath, but no one objected either. "For his treason of the late King and Grey Wardens at Ostagar I call for an execution!"

The silence in the hall was so absolute, all could hear the queen's stifled gasp.

"Wait, there is another option," a third Grey Warden entered the hall. "I am just coming from Ostagar... we lost a lot of men," he looked at Wolf and Alistair, the last remaining Grey Wardens of Ferelden. "I propose we induct General Loghain into our Order. He could be a valuable ally."

"No way!!" Alistair's face contorted with rage. "No disrespect to you, Warden, ah, yes, I do remember you... but you weren't at Ostagar when we got overwhelmed! I stand by Wolf's call for an execution!"

The third Warden didn't insist. He nodded with sadness and stepped back, letting Wolf and Alistair take it from there.

"You do it," Wolf turned to Alistair. "For Duncan."

"Oh, I have no problem with that," Alistair pulled out his sword. "Not this time..."

He took a mighty swing and hit Loghain's neck just above the line of his armour. Justice was done.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Midyear, 3E387 - Friends

After Loghain's execution, the question of the next ruler of Ferelden was settled very quickly. Arl Eamon insisted it should be Alistair, but the queen put forward her own candidacy. The Landsmeet however reminded them both that it was up to Wolf to name the next ruler since he won the duel against Loghain. Wolf endorsed the queen, as they had agreed, and she demanded an oath of allegiance from Alistair renouncing any and all claims to the throne for himself or any of his descendents, should he have children later. Alistair was all too happy to oblige, sighing a huge sigh of relief. Arl Eamon too sighed a sigh, but that one was of disappointment. With Alistair's abdication of his claim to the throne, Arl Eamon's potential claim also became void.

"And now we must unite and stand against the Blight!" The queen rallied the nobles. No one needed rallying, really, but she did it anyway. Wolf still had a few errands to run in the capital, but was planning to leave for the rendez-vous within the next few days.

Running around the capital, they got intercepted quite a few times, mostly by bandits. "Someone really needs to clean up this town!" Wolf complained after yet another battle.

"Oh no, I got blood all over me again!" Zevran tried to wipe clean his expensive drakeskin armour. "Well... I suppose I'll just have to have it dyed in 'Blood Drop' next time..."

"Hello, Zevran," a person they hadn't noticed before, stepped forward from the shadows. "I couldn't believe it when they told me, but I see it is true - you defected."

"And so they sent you after me, you of all people!" Zevran smirked. "The Crows really have a sense of humour."

"Oh no, I volunteered as soon as this contract was issued. To bring down great Zevran..! How could I pass it up?" The man smirked and took a step forward. "But it doesn't have to be that way. I took this contract so that no one else would. Come back with me, Zevran. We'll make up some story, I don't care, everyone makes mistakes. It's not too late!"

"That would require the Grey Wardens to be dead, of course," Zevran straightened his back. "And that isn't going to happen. I won't fight you, Taliesen, you were my friend once... and more... but I see you've come to do the same to me that you did to Rinna. I therefore leave you to your fate."

Zevran sheathed his daggers and left. Taliesen attacked, revealing half a dozen of assassins hiding in the bushes. It was a tough fight, but nothing that Wolf, Alistair and Morrigan couldn't handle on their own.

"So, here lies Zevran's special friend," Alistair bent over the body of Taliesen when it was all over. "I wonder just how special... and who is Rinna?"

"Who was Rinna, I should rather think," Morrigan was looking over the bodies of the other assassins. "These are all Crows - there are marks on their armour. So Zevran's assassins guild finally went after him. They don't like loose ends, it appears."

When they were back at their lodgings that evening, Wolf found a quiet moment to talk to Zevran.

"I apologise for walking away," Zevran said seeing Wolf approaching. "But Taliesen was more than a friend... perhaps not the way you think... or at least not just that way... He was a slave like me, we grew up together. We are the only two recruits from that year who still live... Well... I am the only one left now..." Zevran paused, composing himself. "Rinna was a friend too, the three of us formed a Crows unit. We shared so much together... in romance, as well as battle. Then Taliesen spread a rumour that Rinna had been taking bribes from clients, and the Crows ordered her execution. It later transpired that she did no such thing, but she was already dead. I always wondered why Taliesen betrayed her like that, he knew what would happen... The Crows don't take any chances with rumours of such nature. An assassin's life is forfeit right from the start anyway... a bit like a Grey Warden's..." He paused and smiled, but Wolf did not interrupt. "I should have fought against him, I suppose... but I just could not bring myself to do it," he sighed. "Please forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Zevran," Wolf shrugged. "I am glad it's Taliesen lying dead there rather than you."

"Oh?" Zevran smiled with mischief, regaining his usual playful and mocking countenance. "Well, I like you too, friend! I'll resume staring now. I've once stared all seven skirts off a famous courtesan... it's a skill worth maintaining."

"Yes, I was wondering about that... Are you just practicing or what?" Wolf smiled too, relieved that the serious part of their conversation was over.

"That is entirely up to you," Zevran shrugged. "I am an assassin, my life may end any moment... I do not make lasting bonds, I have no deep feelings..."

"Aha," Wolf nodded. "And I am the Queen of Antiva."

"Well... You would make for a beautiful queen," Zevran grinned.

"Oh come off it!" Wolf laughed. "Very well, we'll speak of it no more. Glad to have you back as a friend, Zevran."

"The Crows won't stop though," Zevran became serious once again. "It will take a while but they will send someone else after me sooner or later."

"And we'll beat them up again," Wolf shrugged. "They should know better than go against the Grey Wardens..."

...

A few days later our party set off for the rendez-vous with the other forces. They were to meet in Redcliffe. There was no knowing where the Archdemon would direct the darkspawn army, but everyone assumed it would be somewhere in the South, not too far from Ostagar, and Redcliffe seemed like the logical choice. Its fairly central location was also perfectly suitable as a meeting point for the troops coming from all corners of the kingdom. Perhaps it was too convenient, however.

When our party arrived in Redcliffe, they found the village overrun by darkspawn and the castle stormed. They helped defeat that horde, of course, but the signs were worrying. Not as worrying as what was waiting for them inside, it appeared.

"I've just returned from Ostagar," an older Grey Warden held some papers. "I was there to retrieve Grey Warden records from the fallen fortress... Yes, another enchanted chest, like the one that held the treaties in the Korcari Wilds... I examined the battlefield closely, too. To have a record of all Wardens who perished there," he nodded to Alistair's question. "But also to get a feeling for what the Archdemon might do next... and where. I've been a Grey Warden much longer than you," he smiled. "The taint is running rampant in my blood... and I can sense the Archdemon better. He is going to strike at the capital."

"How soon?" That question was on everyone's lips. The capital was about a week away on foot.

"Soon," the Warden looked somber. "Sooner than we can get there," he looked around the room. "They will have to stand firm until we arrive. And I believe the Archdemon will be there as well."

"Then we must set off in a fast march first thing in the morning," Arl Eamon said decisively. "Everyone is here already, the forces are assembled... but in the wrong place. We must march to the capital then."

It was decided to take the remainder of the day and the night to eat and rest, as everyone would need their strength for a long march ahead and for the grand battle at the end of it. No one doubted a Warden's word any longer.

...

"We need to prepare for what is to come," the Warden called Wolf and Alistair aside after dinner. "Do you two know how to kill the Archdemon?" He looked at them with a question.

"We cut off its head!" Alistair offered. "Oh wait, that's not what you mean, is it?"

"So you know then," the Warden nodded. "One Grey Warden must sacrifice himself to kill the Archdemon, to bring down the final blow. A strategy is agreed before the battle to make sure that it is done. There're only three of us... I shall attempt to do it, as I am the oldest and the taint is already driving me crazy. But should I fail... One of you must take over. The Archdemon must be killed, even if all three of us die in the process."

"Which means that we must survive battles with darkspawn, or else there won't be any Wardens left to tackle the Archdemon," Wolf pointed out. "No heroics until we get to the dragon," he glared at Alistair.

"Oh alright," Alistair nodded. "I'll be careful... But how do we even get to a flying dragon? What if he doesn't want to land? What if he lands where none of us can reach him?"

"He won't," the older Grey Warden smiled. "I'll call him. Yes, it's the taint... With you, he just talks in your heads, but I can already talk in his," he smirked. "Which does not mean that it will be easy. My plan is however that as soon as we get to the capital, I shall go to the top of the tower in the guard fortress and call the Archdemon to me. I shall try to kill him there... Wish me luck."

"Then we shall make our way to that tower too," Alistair nodded. "As backup."

They looked at each other, then bowed their heads in memory of those Grey Wardens that fell before the final battle even started. They now knew what they had to do.

...

"Don't be alarmed, it is only I," Wolf heard Morrigan's voice as he entered his bedroom in the Redcliffe Castle intending to get as much sleep as he could before their lengthy march.

"Morrigan," he smiled. "We should rather get some sleep tonight... we've got a long march ahead of us."

"Oh yes, I agree, rest is important," she nodded. "And ordinarily I would not wish anything else on the last night before a march... but this is the last night with a decent bed before the final battle, and there's something I want to ask of you."

"Oh?" Wolf wasn't sure why, but this didn't sound like just another night with Morrigan.

"I know that a Grey Warden must sacrifice himself in order to kill the Archdemon," she started. "But I... don't want you to die," she smiled. "Not you, and not even Alistair, dim-witted though he is..." she sighed. "I am here to offer another way."

"Go on."

"Lay with me tonight and I shall conceive a child," she looked straight at him. "A child with a Grey Warden taint. Then, when the Archdemon is slain, its soul will seek out that child above all else. It won't kill it at such an early stage... but instead it will be transformed, purified. A soul of an old god... cleared of its taint."

"You want to give birth to a new Archdemon?" Wolf squinted. That didn't seem right.

"Not at all!" Morrigan shook her head vigorously. "No, it won't be an Archdemon, I am quite certain! It will be that old god whose soul was twisted and thrust into a dragon to make an Archdemon in the first place. This will end all Blights, you see? There will be no next Archdemon."

"How do you know all this?" Wolf sat down, this was rather a lot to take in.

"Flemeth's Grimoir," Morrigan produced the book. "The real one, the one she gave you to pass on to me. It's all here."

"You think she planned for you to do it right from the start?" Wolf squinted. "Is that why she sent you with us, you think?"

"I think she thought of that, yes," Morrigan nodded. "But whether she planned it... I am not certain. I think not - too many unknowns, you see..."

"But I am Dragonborn," Wolf shook his head. "I am supposed to be able to just absorb a dragon's soul and... hmm... I am not sure what, but likely not die."

"A dragon's soul - yes," Morrigan nodded, leafing through the book to find the right passage. "But the Archdemon is no ordinary dragon." She showed it to Wolf. "There is no guarantee you won't die."

Wolf sighed, looking at her.

"What makes you think you are not with child already?"

"That... hmm..." Morrigan frowned. "That cannot be ruled out," she agreed. "In which case it's already done. But if I am not with child yet... I have a way to make certain I shall conceive tonight."

"Witches..." Wolf sighed. "What will you do with the child?"

"Raise it," Morrigan smiled. "You will leave it to me to do as I please. You will not seek me out and you will never see that child."

"Will it even be my child? Or will it just be a demon of some sort?" Wolf felt like he was playing for time with these questions. He didn't even know why he was doing it.

"It will be your child, dear," Morrigan sat next to him. "It will be as much your child as it will be mine, I have no illusions. If it really takes on the soul of an old god, it won't be a child at all. Not yours and not mine, for that matter. I am uncertain how it will turn out. But it won't be another Archdemon."

"Well, since you may be pregnant already... why stop there," Wolf smiled. "Let's make it a night to remember, if only because it's the final night with a decent bed..."

Sun's Height, 3E387 - The endgame

The capital of Ferelden was under seige by darkspawn. The defenders had received word from Arl Eamon that the allied forces were on the way, and that gave them some hope that the Blight might still be repelled. Many fell, but the city still didn't surrender. The Archdemon was circling above it, fires burned everywhere, yet somehow Wolf felt it could have been far worse... So, what was the Archdemon waiting for?

"The Archdemon wants to win the war, not just take the capital," the older Grey Warden was saying to Wolf and Alistair. "He is holding back his forces, none of the darkspawn Generals made an appearance yet. But they will, as soon as we join the battle, you can be sure of that... More leadership, a better organised army and stronger fighters is what we shall find. Let's just hope that our Generals are better than theirs..."

"You should proceed to the guard tower as planned though," Wolf looked at the older Warden. "Before the Archdemon calls in all the reserves. We shall engage his troops in the city, and let's hope that he'll waste some of his Generals fighting us instead of defending him..."

"And we would at the same time waste some of our forces too," the Warden objected. "He has a far larger army, but if you kill off his Generals quickly, the final battle will be easier, no doubt." He paused in thought. "It's hard to say which is the better approach."

"Go to the tower," Alistair sounded resolved. "We shall take the fight to the Generals."

"By your lead," Wolf saluted, surprised with Alistair's sudden leadership.

...

The older Warden reached the top of the guard tower and stepped out onto the platform overlooking the city. There was fighting in every street. Darkspawn were strong, but the defenders were still resisiting, now with the fresh forces filling their ranks. Arl Eamon's knights, a dwarven legion complete with golems, scores of elven archers and a surprisingly large group of mages were joining the battle on all sides. "No hounds though," he sighed. "Raising a new generation of hounds would take time..."

Then suddenly he heard it - huge wings just behind him. The Archdemon had arrived.

Wasting no time, the Warden jumped onto the dragon's back and the dragon took to the skies. The battle would be high above the city. "Get to the head," the Warden started climbing up the dragon's body, using his daggers to anchor himself between the massive scales. The dragon was twisting and turning, trying to throw him off. "Not so fast, dragon," the Warden remained determined to bring him down. He reached the neck and started moving up along it, thrusting his daggers deep into the dragon's flesh. The dragon roared, feeling the pain.

The Warden was very close to the dragon's head. Rather than cutting it off, he planned to thrust his daggers into the skull instead. He could do it in the air. Yes, the dragon would plunge to the ground then, it was suicide, but it was a suicide anyway. He was close. Another push, and he would reach the head.

The dragon turned and twisted, one of Warden's daggers cut deep into his neck. Blood was gushing out of the open wound, red mist rose in front of the dragon's eyes, he could not see where he was headed... His tail hit a tower wall, the impact resonated through the body. The Warden planted his daggers deeper still. Another push... he was nearly there! He moved his dagger, thrust it hard and into the dragon's neck, pulling himself up on it. But instead, the dagger slid through the dragon's flesh cutting a long and deep wound, then slipping on the blood streaming from it... The Warden lost his grip of the dragon and was propelled through the air, falling hard to the ground somewhere on the city streets. The dragon roared with pain, flying almostly blindly, then landed on the top of the guard tower - the only platform out of reach of the battle.

"Look - the Archdemon!" Wolf pointed him out to Alistair. "Alive," he added somber.

"He looks wounded," Alistair nodded. "The Warden must have failed. It's our turn now, Wolf."

They rushed to the guard tower and found the dragon on the top. He had many deep wounds all over his body, and mostly on the neck. But even so, the Archdemon was far from dead, and he still had some of his Generals.

The battle on the top platform was truly epic. Wolf, Alistair, Zevran and Morrigan took on the dragon alone at first. The dragon was still able to fly, although not far, yet enough to make him a difficult target. He could hover over the platform and fly from one end to the other.

"Bows!" Wolf shouted to his companions. "Get him to land, target the wings!! It doesn't matter than none of you is a master archer... just keep firing!!!"

Alistair shrugged and pulled out his crossbow, Zevran sighed and swapped his daggers for a bow, too. He wasn't a master archer by any stretch of imagination, but his dexterity allowed him to use one of the best and most powerful bows around... and that counted for a lot! It wasn't hard to hit a target as large as the dragon.

When the dragon could no longer rise into the air, he called one of his Generals with a contingent of elite darkspawn troops. As they started appearing from the doors in the far corner, Wolf realised that these were not the same darkspawn that they fought before. These warriors actually deserved to be called warriors, they had purpose, determination and intelligence, as well as superior skill and strength. "Time to call for reinforcements!" Wolf thought, summoning the dwarven legion. This proved to be the right decision - although the dwarves were only a quarter in size compared to an average darkspawn soldier, they fought twice as ferociously and they had the stamina and the knowledge allowing them to win seemingly impossible battles. "They never stop fighting darkspawn," Wolf reminded himself, watching dwarven efficiency.

But the dragon made another call - a regiment of darkspawn battlemages appeared, with a General leading it, an Emissary General, that is, a mage. Although dwarves had a natural resistance to magic, they were forced to run around the battlefield trying to reach teleporting targets as they had no ranged weapons of their own. "Well, I hope you're stronger than you look!" Wolf called the elven archers, positioning them away from the darkspawn mages as best he could.

The archers were effective against teleporting targets - they didn't need to run around the battlefield. But if darkspawn knights got to them, they quickly fell.

"This is complete chaos!" Alistair stopped for a moment, watching the battle. "What are you going to do next? Call in Arl Eamon's knights?" He looked at Wolf.

"Umm... I think the dwarves and the elves will be enough, actually," Wolf shook his head. "Look - they finally learned to support each other. We need to turn our attention to the Archdemon. Ideas?"

"What about that ballista?" Alistair pointed at something in the corner.

"What ballista..?" It was only then that Wolf finally spotted two ballistas flanking the battlefield. "Why didn't you say anything before?!" He laughed. "Well, tell Zevran he gets to play with it while I go and annoy the dragon!"

"Tell Zevran..?" Alistair stopped for a moment, looking for Zevran. Where was he? Surely, he had seen him dashing back and forth just a moment ago...

"Zevran fell to one of the Generals!" Morrigan shouted over the noise of the battle when Alistair shouted to her that he was looking for Zevran. "He's over there somewhere!" She waved into the middle of the melee. "I can raise him but you have to lead the darkspawn away, or else Zevran will fall immediately! He will be quite weak to start with!"

"He isn't the strongest of fighters in the best of times," Alistair nodded. "Watch me and raise him when the time is right! Then send him to the ballista! That dragon has got to die!!!"

Alistair engaged a darkspawn Emissary General - a necromancer mage of very considerable power, surrounded by several darkspawn elite warriors for good measure.

"You cannot stand against a templar!!!" Alistair bellowed, planting his sword into the ground causing the stone to split and sending shock waves that stunned as well as stripped his adversaries of any magic effects. With the warriors temporarily out of action, he lunged at the mage, defeating him in just a few moves. Then he led away the warriors, trying not to get hit rather than attacking, his goal being to clear the area so that Zevran could be raised and not die in the process.

"Rise and fight again, I command you!!" Morrigan cast the resurrection spell. It wasn't necromancy, for Zevran wasn't dead - he had just been knocked out. The spell was a form of healing with Morrigan giving Zevran a health boost and waking him from unconsciousness. But she rather liked to make it sound more sinister and dramatic. "Use the ballista!!" She shouted. "Against the dragon!!!"

"Eh... what..?" Zevran shook his head, trying to remember where he was and what was going on. "Dragon? Oh, right! Dragon!"

Even the ballista wasn't going to kill the dragon in one hit. But the elves and the dwarves kept engaging the darkspawn, Wolf and Alistair held the dragon in one place and Morrigan put aside her hostile magic and focused on keeping them all alive... After a time the dragon finally stopped breathing fire.

"Now!!" Alistair charged. "Jump over me and get to his head!"

And as Alistair plunged his sword into the dragon's jaw, Wolf leapt on top of the dragon's head and buried his own blade in the skull.

The dragon roared. The sound was deafening. It covered the whole city, making everything stop. Darkspawn froze and stopped their assault. The battle was over.

Wolf couldn't move. He too froze on the spot, his hands on the hilt of his sword planted into the dragon's skull. Was he going to die after all? Did Morrigan's ritual not work? He felt the dragon's power passing through him, he was about to be overwhelmed.

Morrigan straightened up and faced the dragon. She could not move either. She watched a wisp of a spirit rise out of the Archdemon's chest in search of a new home. Several darkspawn Generals lay dead nearby, any number of elite darkspawn troops stood ready to receive the spirit and let the Archdemon be reborn... but the spirit wavered. Wolf and Alistair were both right by the dragon's head... would it enter one of them instead? Did her ritual work? Was she actually with child?

After a few moments the spirit rose higher, completely clearing the dragon's body. It floated past Wolf and Alistair, and although it responded to the call of the taint in their blood, it heard an even louder call from further ahead... A call from a taint so fresh, a being so young and pure...

...

"Are you alright?" Alistair was pouring healing potions down Morrigan's throat. When the shock of the dragon's final roar subsided, Morrigan was still collapsed on the ground, unconscious. The remaining elves and dwarves slowly returned into the city to clear what darkspawn still remained, but our party was too shaken for any further fighting.

"I... yes... I think I am in one piece," Morrigan sat up with difficulty.

"It worked, didn't it?" Wolf helped her up.

"Yes... how is it that we're both alive?" Alistair squinted at her.

"I'll tell you later, Alistair," Wolf shook his head. "Let's get out of here."

Sun's Height, 3E387 - The morning after

Celebrations went on for several days. Everyone was there, dressed in their best clothes over carefully bandaged wounds. Everyone except Morrigan. She vanished in the dead of night once she was well enough to walk. Wolf found a note among his things:

"It worked, I can feel it. You are alive, and Alistair too - this is the proof. I shall take good care of our child. Do not search for me... allow me this freedom, please. Perhaps fate will bring us together again, but if not, I beseech you - do not force it.

Your Witch of the Wilds."

Everyone had plans for the future. Ferelden would rebuild, and the Queen would make sure that Grey Wardens were never forgotten. Monuments were being erected, streets were named after them, a university was founded for the good of any and all. "Cheese for everyone!" was the word in the street, although no one really knew where that came from. Perhaps there was simply too much cheese around.

The Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden was reinstated, and the lands formerly belonging to one of Loghain's lieutenants were given to the Wardens to use as a base. Soldier's Peak was in that region, too.

"Those were the lands that used to belong to Grey Wardens before the events three hundred years ago," the Queen smiled when Wolf pointed it out. "Indeed. The lands had changed owners several times since then, but I thought it befitting that they should return to Grey Wardens. You can reopen Soldier's Peak, of course... but if I may make a suggestion..." She looked at Wolf and Alistair, and when they nodded, she continued. "There are several other keeps and fortresses there that are in a better state of repair, larger and more imposing. I would suggest you choose one of them. After all, you need a base that reflects your glory."

...

"I don't know if I can stand any more drinking," Alistair shook his head, finding it difficult to walk straight. "And this ceremonial armour... I am not used to anything quite so heavy!"

"But it's pretty!" Wolf laughed. "I feel the same, friend," he steadied himself. "Well, Commander, perhaps we should retire for the night?"

"No, you are the Commander," Alistair laughed. "Aren't you? I think you are. I'm pretty sure it's you rather than me... Umm..."

"No, wait - you are the Crown Prince!"

"No, I'm not!" Alistair shook his head and nearly fell over. "I gave that up! Poof! Gone! Good riddance! The throne is the one chair I don't want!"

"Oh, that's right," Wolf nodded. "Anyway... see you at breakfast."

Alistair made it to his room and closed the door. Wolf nodded to himself and took a swig from his hip flask. Then he shook his head, straightened his back and walked on, almost completely sober. He wanted to talk to Zevran first.

...

"Here for a nightcap, Commander?" Zevran greeted him. "Please, come in! You don't look drunk enough."

"No, I'd like to talk first," he entered and closed the door behind him. "It is a bit... delicate."

"Then you do want a nightcap," Zevran poured him a drink. "Antivan brandy. Known to stimulate conversation."

Zevran smiled in an entirely natural and neutral manner, without innuendos of any kind. Wolf wondered how he did it. Perhaps it came with age and experience, like most things... or perhaps it was a special gift.

"What do you intend to do now, Zevran?" Wolf decided to be direct.

"Stay alive," Zevran smiled. "The Crows will still be after me, and so I wondered whether your offer of letting me stay with the Wardens, still stood? I could be of use, you know."

"Of that I have no doubt," Wolf smiled. "Yes, the offer still stands. We shall be able to induct new Wardens soon enough..."

"Ah... if you don't mind..." Zevran interrupted him gently. "I don't actually want to join... Blood is not my favourite beverage, see... I would rather help from the backbenches, if that is still allowed."

"I see," Wolf laughed. "It's allowed. Not everyone who works with Grey Wardens is a Warden themselves. I am glad it's settled."

He got up to leave, then changed his mind and sat down again.

"What I am going to say next, may sound offensive," Wolf looked very uneasy. "If so, I apologise upfront... I don't mean offence, it's so awkward... I've never been in such a situation before... I just hope I won't lose you after this..."

"Go on," Zevran smiled. "I think I know what's on your mind."

"I bet you do..." Wolf smiled and fidgeted. "I know I said we would not talk of this again... but... err..."

"I am listening."

Wolf shifted in his chair, brought the brandy to his lips but didn't drink. It smelled of nugat, sugared roasted nuts, and something else... "Like Elsweyr in Skyrim..." he thought and sat down his goblet without drinking. Then he spoke again.

"I like women, see... I've never been with a man, I never wanted to..." He paused, not looking up. "I don't think I want to now, either..." He sighed. "But..." He sighed again and shot a glance at Zevran, but Zevran remained completely neutral, sipping his brandy and waiting for Wolf to proceed with his difficult speech. "The way you look at me... I like it," Wolf finally managed to say. "May be not to the point of... you know... actually getting down to business... But if I were to describe what I think of you, I'd say you are more than a friend." He sighed a sigh of relief, but wasn't finished speaking yet, and Zevran still remained silent. "It's confusing... I never felt this sort of thing towards any woman either... I want to stay close to you even if... that involves something I've never done before... Does that make sense?" He blushed and finally took a sip of his brandy. Sweet, heavy fragrance rose up his nose and opened his mind.

"It makes perfect sense, my friend," Zevran smiled. "And I am not offended. Flattered, if anything. That you found the strength to tell me this, that you felt at ease to do it... Well, sufficiently at ease, at least," he smiled again. "I shall keep following you around and remain your friend, and yes, I shall keep staring since you like it... But I am not one to force anything onto anyone, fear not... And I daresay I can tell when something is going too far. There is no rush, and I like women too. So yes, you can strip off in my presence and be at ease doing that."

"Good," Wolf smiled, taking another sip of his brandy. "This is excellent stuff, by the way..." He sniffed it again, took another small sip and rolled it in his mouth. "It's been a long day, and this ceremonial armour is killing me. Please help me take it off - the buckles are on the back... I can't actually get out of it without someone's help..."

"Practical, as always," Zevran laughed, helping Wolf out of his guilded cage. "Oh look, your clothes are covered in blood, some of the wounds must have re-opened. Let me help you undress without removing your skin..."

It took them a while to get all the bloody clothing off and change some of the bandages. Zevran's touch was gentle but not prying, and Wolf quickly relaxed.

"There're some clothes in that chest, if you wanted something so as not to walk through the castle naked," Zevran pointed at a chest, picking up bloodied clothing from the floor and moving the armour into a corner. "They might not fit you well as they're mine, but it would probably be enough..."

A snore was his answer. Relieved from the weight of the armour and from the pain and discomfort of bleeding wounds and chafing dry bandages, Wolf collapsed on the bed and was asleep in seconds.

"Another time, then," Zevran smiled. "Sleep well, friend."

He nestled next to Wolf and blew out the candle. It had been a long day.

...

"Did you two..." Alistair stared at Wolf and Zevran when they appeared in the breakfast parlour together the next morning. "I saw you on the bed... when I... umm... never mind..."

"Someone had to get me out of that armour," Wolf shrugged. "How did you get out of yours? The buckles are on the back!"

"I called the maid..." Alistair said and blushed for some reason.

"No, we didn't," Wolf looked at him sternly. "Now, what's for breakfast?"

...

"You have to explain to me how it is that both you and I are alive," Alistair looked at Wolf quite sternly. "Commander of the Grey," he grinned. "So since there are only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden and you are the Commander, then I must be your First Lieutenant, and as such I have a right to know..."

"Captain of the Guard," Wolf interrupted him. "That makes you the Captain of the Guard. We've got no guard yet, but you get the title..."

"Don't try to avoid my question," Alistair insisted.

"Well... err..." Wolf shook his head - this was probably even more difficult than talking to Zevran the night before. "She is with child. My child. A Grey Warden's child... It appears that the Archdemon's spirit sought out that child rather than one of us."

"WHAT?!" Alistair jumped up and was pacing around the room. "Do you even understand what that means?! She is going to give birth to a new Archdemon!!!"

"No, in all likelihood she won't," Wolf tried to remain calm. "An Archdemon is no common dragon, or I would have consumed his soul... err... I guess I never told you I could do that, either... But it didn't happen."

"You... what..?" Alistair froze, staring at Wolf. "I've heard her call you that - Dragonborn... Flemeth called you that... I never paid attention to it, I was too busy avoiding becoming a King, I guess... Perhaps we should just forget I brought it up! I don't want to know! That's why you hesitated back at the Temple in Haven... You drank that dragon blood... You've been using blood magic all along... You sired a child with the Witch of the Wilds... and then spent a night with a Crows assassin... whether or not you actually... oh never mind... Let's just forget I said anything, alright? You're the Commander of the Grey, you can do as you please, and it is none of my business, none of it..."

He kept talking, shaking his head, confused and disappointed, all at once.

"Alistair," Wolf got up and touched Alistair's shoulder, making Alistair jump and freeze. "Sit down. You are right, I should have told you a lot more right from the start. Even if it shocked you. It isn't as bad as it looks."

When Alistair finally regained his composure and sat down, Wolf tried to make it as short a speech as he could.

"I am an Agent with the Imperial Legion of Tamriel," he decided to start from the beginning. "That's a rank above Captain. I do field work... usually on my own. I was sent here to learn about the Blight because our Emperor wants to be prepared, should it spill over. They chose me because I am Dragonborn..." He paused, watching Alistair, but Alistair was listening without interruptions. "I am not a dragon," Wolf smirked. "I am 'dragon kin'. Some blood connection, I am really not sure... But my Legate thought that it would allow me to survive the Joining because they knew that the Archdemon was a dragon too. Yes, I was always meant to join the Grey Wardens and go all the way fighting the Blight... Duncan knew of it. This had been all pre-arranged."

"I had no idea..." Alistair said softly. "Duncan only said we would be getting an experienced warrior from overseas..."

"I was never meant to lead the Grey Wardens," Wolf nodded. "There were never meant to be just the two of us left..."

He paused and they sat in silence for a minute or two. Then Wolf continued.

"A Dragonborn is said to be able to consume a dragon's soul when a dragon is slain," he watched Alistair who was listening with rapt attention. "I've never done this. I have never seen a dragon before... There are no dragons in Tamriel... not anymore... The first time I saw a dragon was when the Archdemon talked to me during the Joining." He shuddered, remembering the shock and horror he felt then.

"No one forgets that," Alistair nodded.

"So. I always thought that I would simply consume the Archdemon's soul when the time came... but things are more complex than that."

"The Archdemon is no mere dragon," Alistair nodded. "I read that somewhere, now I recall. It is an old god, apparently. Twisted and tainted by the darkspawn... Which would mean that it is the darkspawn who create an Archdemon to lead them... That's a frightening thought..."

"Morrigan read about it in Flemeth's Grimoir," Wolf continued. "That the soul of the original old god could be purified and cleared of its taint if it were to seek out a being not yet fully formed... Such as an unborn child. Morrigan's child will not be an Archdemon."

"So she was being 'friendly' with you all this time because she was trying to get pregnant..?" Alistair whistled.

"Well... not really..." Wolf smiled. "She only got the Grimoir after we already... a good few times... no, I think she wasn't trying to get pregnant then."

"I never understood what you saw in her," Alistair shook his head. "She's a blood mage!"

"That she is not," Wolf shook his head. "Although I would not be surprised if she'd learn it some day... I just saw a woman rather than a mage and an apostate," he pointed out.

"Alright, there's no accounting for taste, as they say," Alistair inclined his head. "So, what now? She vanished."

"She wanted her freedom," Wolf nodded. "I am not going after her. Not yet and not on purpose, anyway," he winked.

"Speaking of blood mages," Alistair looked straight at Wolf. "You went out of your way to save the blood mage who poisoned Arl Eamon. You supported Avernus back at Soldier's Peak. You drank his concoction. Then you drank dragon blood in Haven - and thank goodness you didn't destroy the Urn of Sacred Ashes! You've been cutting your wrists and spilling your blood, you've been taking life from the dead, you made your enemies cower in pain just looking at you... I've seen the signs, I'm a templar, you know. You are a blood mage. And yet you are no mage... That... is confusing."

"On that we agree," Wolf nodded. "Confusing. This is all blood magic, true, because it's got to do with blood... The Grey Warden taint is blood magic. In Tamriel we believe that every person has magic in them, to some extent. Every person has blood. So when I cut my wrists, the blood that spills over my enemies works its own magic... I cast no spells and cannot explain it beyond that."

"Hmm... The Chantry preaches that blood magic is pure evil..." Alistair looked uncertain. "Yet.. hmm..."

"Yet they use it to track down apostate mages?" Wolf smirked. "Yeah, I noticed that. Every child with a gift of magic is taken to the Tower of Magi for education. Every child surrenders a sample of his or her blood that is kept by the Chantry. And then, should that child decide to 'defect', to escape, to run away... How do templars find that child, exactly? You're a templar, you tell me." It was Wolf's turn to pin Alistair with his gaze.

"The same way as hounds follow a scent," Alistair answered slowly. "The Reverend Mother performs a ritual... using the mage's phylactery... A small sample of the blood is given to the templar... not to drink but to know... yes... That's blood magic, alright!" Alistair got red and angry.

"Performed by the Chantry for the good of the people," Wolf spit and swore. "And you wonder why I considered destroying the Urn of Sacred Ashes? The Chantry doesn't take me in."

"But you didn't destroy it," Alistair calmed down. "Why not?"

"It's like I said - it is too important to a lot of good people," Wolf shrugged. "It's a symbol of all that is good and holy, even if the institution that upholds it is nothing of the sort..."

"Alright," Alistair shook his head, putting that topic aside. "Templar skills are still useful to have," he rubbed his chin. "And I am no longer in the Chantry..." He smiled. "But Zevran?" He looked up. "An assassin? You spared him first, and then... good grief, Wolf! And I thought you liked women!!"

"I do," Wolf grinned. "Zevran is... rather special, though," he paused. "An assassin, if not by choice at first, but he is now an assassin through and through, that's for sure. Rather like you being a templar... You cannot stop either. But I have no issues with assassins... As an Agent, I've had missions of various kinds..."

"But you serve your Imperial Legion," Alistair pointed out. "Not some guild that takes on contracts for money."

"We work with assassins guilds as well," Wolf smiled. "They are impartial... that is often a huge asset. I asked Zevran to stay with us Wardens for a while. He is still being hunted by the Crows, you know, and we're still very short of men, even though the Order had been reinstated... It's still just you and me."

"Well... he does fight well..." Alistair sighed. "And he did right by us... I guess I cannot complain... Will he be taking the Joining?"

"I don't think so," Wolf shook his head. "Zevran is an elf who loves to stay alive. His natural life span runs into a millennium... But the Joining would cut it down to fifty years. The taint would kill him, as it kills every Grey Warden after a time."

"I... see," Alistair nodded slowly. "I never thought of it that way... Of course for us humans it isn't such a big deal, fifty years is such a long time... but for an elf... gosh... There are elves among Grey Wardens, of course... their sacrifice is beyond imagining..."

They talked for hours. Alistair wanted to hear about Tamriel, about magic running in every man and woman, about elves and assassins, about romance too... and Wolf obliged, not shirking away from any topic, uncomfortable or not. He was determined to restore Alistair's good will and genuine support. The two of them were still the whole contingent of the Order of Grey Wardens of Ferelden, and each of them felt that although the Archdemon was dead, darkspawn was still on the rise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This concludes the story told in Dragon Age: Origins, but the story of Wolf Asgarsen is not yet complete. The darkspawn problem has not gone away, new trouble is brewing and he cannot leave as yet. Plus, he has a few personal loose ends to tie up, too.

There was one expansion to the game known as Dragon Age: Awakening, which takes place some months after the end of the Blight. After that there's a short story of looking for Morrigan... Did Wolf break his promise and went after her against her wishes? Or was it just a stroke of fate? We'll see.

I noted before that I introduced Anders as the mage who poisoned Arl Eamon, replacing the character actually doing it in the game. I feel that this fits much better with the story that is still to come, which will be altered a bit accordingly. This is fan fiction - I do not necessarily retell exactly what BioWare wrote. You'll need to play the game for yourself to see what happens to your Grey Warden. My story traces just one path, one of many, which is a great thing about BioWare games.

This story continues with an intermezzo entirely of my own making. Of course, in the original story the Warden did not come from Tamriel... Also, although we import our saves into subsequent games, our old heroes hardly make an appearance. I aim to change that. Since Wolf Asgarsen is stuck in Thedas, he is not going to just sit there twiddling his thumbs. He will go to Kirkwall next, as the events that take place in Dragon Age II indeed occur some months after the end of the Blight - it is all in fact one story. So it is only natural to see familiar faces coming back in it. Dragon Age: Inquisition is to follow after that, although I won't delve into it quite as deeply as I've done with Origins. Perhaps this says something about my attitude towards that game. And then, with any luck, Dragon Age: Veilguard will be released in November, and we'll have to see what that one is like. However, that being a new game, I won't be retelling much of it in order to avoid spoilers, but instead I shall likely build my own tale inspired by the game. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I do apologise for the frequency and length of the last few episodes, but you don't have to read them as I write them. For me, however, it is important to post them as they are written, and these last ones were quite intense to write. Especially considering the parts that went "between the lines" that I played out in my head but did not include into the story.

And now, without further ado, as they say... hehe... The story continues.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sun's Height, 3E387 - Anders

The celebrations of the end of the Blight were finally fizzling out, and Wolf and Alistair were allowed to leave the capital. Not that they had been held prisoners before, but as the Heroes of the day, they were being called everywhere, people stopped them in the street, everyone wanted a chat, a note, an autograph... They simply had to stay for the duration.

"I can't wait to get back to killing darkspawn," Alistair was lamenting. "This is far worse!"

"Such is the weight of the glory, my friend," Wolf smirked. "We need to please the gentry though, we'll be relying on their support..."

Eventually, however, they could return to the business of being Grey Wardens.

"What are your orders, Commander?" Alistair addressed Wolf in a rather official fashion. "You're the head of the Ferelden Order, you better get used to it," he grinned. "What do you want to do?"

"Well, it will take some time for the lands that had been given to us, to actually change ownership," Wolf looked though some papers. "Bureaucracy, you know. So until then... Say... how do you feel about travelling? Have you ever been to the Central Head Quarters? Somewhere up North?"

"No... but why would I need to go there?" Alistair looked unsure.

"The treaties and papers that the old Warden collected from Ostagar," Wolf put a heavy chest on the table. "Grey Warden documents. They need to be delivered to the Head Quarters. Plus our account of how things went... Loghain's betrayal, the decimation of the Order of Ferelden, the unwillingness of the gentry here to allow Grey Wardens from other kingdoms to join the fight... This is important stuff. This must be relayed and preserved."

"And you want me to take it there," Alistair nodded. "Agreed." He paused. "Did you know that Duncan was the head of the Order in Ferelden? Such as it was... He was a Commander, but he never used that title because the royalty here did not allow for an official Order of Grey Wardens to exist..." He shook his head. "It is so bizarre."

"I didn't know it, no, but I surmised as much," Wolf nodded. "So go. Take this all to the Head Quarters. Make sure every detail is known and recorded... including the story of Soldier's Peak... It's history now, of course, but has history judged correctly who was right or wrong?"

"With Avernus still alive..." Alistair agreed. "I bet the First Commander would want to hear from him!" Alistair made some notes, then looked up. "But what are your plans? Not leaving us, I hope?"

"Not leaving, no," Wolf shook his head. "I'll find someone to take my report to Tamriel... Once I'll have written it," he winked. "A ship brought me here, there will be a ship going back, no doubt. The story so far needs to be told, but we both know that darkspawn are not gone and our jobs are not yet done. I'll stay at Soldier's Peak, it's nice and quiet there... But first there's a matter of Anders."

"The blood mage?" Alistair frowned. "I thought you turned him over to the Circle? It's up to the First Enchanter now what to do with him."

"Yes," Wolf nodded. "But I still want to follow up on that..."

"Oh alright, if you must," Alistair shrugged. "But what you see in him, I shall never know..."

...

A few days later Wolf, Zevran and Bob the Mabari hound travelled to the Tower of Magi to inquire about the fate of a blood mage named Anders. Wolf's heart was heavy, he feared for the worst.

"But why do you care for this blood mage so much?" Zevran gave Wolf a long look. "What's so special about that particular mage? There're plenty other mages around, blood or otherwise..."

"I know that," Wolf nodded. "I just... part of it is hard to explain, and part of it is simple: I got to know him a bit, I have a feel for his character. He may be a blood mage, but he isn't a bad sort... there is no evil in him, just misguided youth... And we need a blood mage... umm... I need a blood mage... because of my... err... affliction."

"You mean the Grey Warden taint?" Zevran looked up in surprise. "That sounds strange."

"No, I mean my dragon blood," Wolf returned his glance. "I've been cutting my wrists and my blood has powers... yet I am no mage. I have no clue what is happening half of the time... I need someone with the knowledge to guide me, yet not to lead me somewhere I don't want to be..."

"And you think that a youngster who got himself into a tremendous mess, is going to be a suitable guide???" Zevran stopped in surprise. "Are you sure you're thinking straight, my friend?"

"Oh, my thinking is tainted, no doubt," Wolf nodded. "But I've got you, don't I, to set me straight?" He smiled. "Zevran, I cannot explain it any better... but I want to save Anders, if I can."

"I see you need me more than I thought," Zevran grinned. "Alright. Lead on, Commander."

...

"Commander, it is an honour," the Knight-Commander of the templars stationed at the Tower of Magi greeted Wolf as he entered. "Is this for conscription or are you just on a social visit?" He squinted.

"Err... social, I should think," Wolf hesitated. "How are things? The tower seems quiet..."

"We've cleaned it up," the Knight-Commander made a wide gesture. "See for yourself - no traces of that ugly fleshy growth anywhere... It took us forever to get the smell out! But other than that, most mages died either during the uprising fighting all those demons, or during the battle in the capital... The First Enchanter drafted pretty much every able-bodied mage and apprentice for you!"

"Those mages will not be forgotten," Wolf bowed his head. "We, Grey Wardens, keep records of anyone who died fighting the Blight. There were even some templars among the troops, I noticed..."

"Fewer than I would have liked," the Knight-Commander blushed. "But we are under the Chantry's command, you know... We've had orders..."

"Ah. Say no more," Wolf stopped him. "Grey Wardens do not wish to meddle into the affairs of the Chantry."

The Knight-Commander nodded and smiled but didn't immediately reply, looking at Wolf with his penetrating gaze.

"Did you want to speak with the First Enchanter?" He finally asked. "He should be in his office. Go on, you know the way. We don't need to accompany the Commander of the Grey, I'm sure."

...

The tower was eerily quiet. Wolf noticed a few mages here and there, practicing spells or leafing through books in the library, and next to every mage there was a templar on duty. They just stood there, but it was enough. Even children playing in the common room, were under observation.

"Commander, welcome!" The First Enchanter rose when Wolf entered the room. "Business or pleasure?" He looked at Wolf with apprehension, noting Zevran and the dog, and greeting both.

"It's Wolf, please," Wolf smiled. "After all we've been through... just call me Wolf."

"Ah... here to ask a favour then," the First Enchanter smiled back. "About the blood mage, am I right? Well, he still lives."

"Have you decided what to do with him?" Wolf held his breath.

"Oh, it isn't up to me, I am afraid," the First Enchanter looked sad. "Arl Eamon wants him executed, but the Chantry wants to show 'mercy' and make him tranquil... You know what that means, don't you?"

"I do," Wolf nodded. "I also know that Anders would prefer an execution."

"So what do you plan to do?" The First Enchanter squinted and Wolf felt as if the old wizard could read his mind. "He is a blood mage, you know, of some considerable power... There is no telling what he is capable of..."

"But isn't he still an apprentice?" Wolf recalled Anders telling him that the First Enchanter kept delaying his graduation.

"He is, technically... Which delivers his fate to the Chantry. Had he been a qualified mage, things would have been different indeed..."

"But he went into the Fade and killed that demon that was possessing the boy!" Wolf started losing hope.

"Oh, there's no doubt in my mind that he is fully qualified," the First Enchanter nodded. "He passed that exam with flying colours... Is that why you sent him into the Fade? So that I and the senior mages could witness it?" He smiled. "I thought your trust was perhaps misplaced... but it seems I was wrong. Unfortunately, since that wasn't an official exam..."

"Bureaucracy," Wolf nodded. "I understand..."

"His phylactery is still here, at the Tower," the First Enchanter noted casually. "But I would not advise trying to destroy it because the Chantry has another. It's very easy to collect a few drops of blood lost by a blood mage, you know..."

"May I see him?"

"He is in the dungeons, suit yourself," the First Enchanter nodded. "Do you not wish to exercise your right of conscription?"

"Not now and not directly," Wolf smiled. "I have to see him first. Last time I saw him, he was so weak, he would have never survived the Joining."

"It seems to me, this is what the Chantry is hoping for," the First Enchanter lowered his voice. "With all the fanfare and denouncing of blood magic to follow. He is still weak. Too weak."

"I hear he escaped from this tower a dozen times already," Wolf said in an equally low voice. "Is that true?"

"Oh yes, everyone knows that... They also know that he'd always been caught quickly and brought back into the fold... Until he turned to blood magic, that is," the First Enchanter looked up and down the corridor. "He evaded the templars for so long through illusion and hypnosis..."

...

The Knight-Commander was reluctant in allowing Wolf to see Anders. The dungeons were under templar control, with no one going in or out.

"Well, may be," the Knight-Commander shook his head. "But you leave your hound and your... err... companion here," he took in Zevran's outfit, noticing a small crest of Antivan Crows on the armour. "There's a templar on duty down below, you won't need a bodyguard," he smiled.

"I have no doubt," Wolf smiled pleasantly. "And thank you."

As Wolf descended into the dungeon, he noticed not one but several templars posted along the way. The Knight-Commander was not taking any chances. Wolf found Anders asleep on his cot, with the cell door securely locked. It took some talking, but the templar on duty finally agreed to unlock it, waking up Anders who looked like he didn't remember where he was.

"Anders, can you see me?" Wolf touched his hand and Anders jerked. "I am Wolf, the Grey Warden."

"I recognise your voice," Anders nodded and smiled. "I cannot see very well... it's so dark in here... isn't it?"

"When was the last time you ate?" Wolf looked around but didn't see any food or drink.

"Ate? Oh... yeah, I ate something at some point..." Anders made an effort to sit up. "They are making sure I don't die before the... you know what they are planning for me?"

"I do."

"Well then..."

Wolf took Anders' wrist searching for a pulse. He felt some old scars under his fingers. The pulse was there, but it was weak and erratic. He then wrapped Anders' hand over his own scarred wrist.

"Feel that?"

"But you are not a mage..."

"Tell me about a way out."

"Ha... If I could walk..." Anders gave a short laugh. "But wait... what are you saying?"

"Is there a way to get you out of here without alerting the templars?" Wolf pressed Anders' hand to his wrist. "And can you do your ritual quietly and without a staff?"

...

Zevran and Bob were loitering in the entrance hall of the Tower of Magi waiting for Wolf to return. How long was he going to take? When would it be too long? Suddenly Bob became restless.

"What's the matter, boy, do you smell a rat?" Zevran scratched behind the dog's ears. "I do too, as a matter of fact..."

It had been too long for a simple visit, especially since the First Enchanter had said that Anders was still too weak. Wolf was up to something, and Zevran could well imagine what it would be.

"Do Mabari hounds really have a connection to their master?" Zevran wondered, watching Bob pacing about. "I think the dog needs to go outside for a bit," he addressed the templar at the door. "Do you have designated dog walking grounds around the tower?"

"Just take him outside, I don't care," the templar shrugged, breathing in sharply.

...

It didn't take long for Bob to track Wolf's scent to a sewage exit at the back of the tower. Zevran noticed that although the tower was on an island in the middle of a large lake, there were rocks in the water going all the way to the other shore. Crossing them upright would be suicide of course, but if one were to swim under water... Oh yes, that could be done. The question was whether Anders was in any condition to do so. Zevran removed the grate and saw two shadows clinging to the mossy walls of the tunnel.

"I told them the dog needed to go out," Zevran whispered. "Sound carries here... Can you swim?"

"How..?" Anders started asking, then cut himself off. "Let's go. I took just enough blood to get me to the other shore... After that you'll have to help me."

They swam across, only coming up for air briefly and as little as they could afford. Even the dog swam under water. They found some bushes covering the shoreline on the other side, they clambered out and crawled at first, then ran, with Zevran and Wolf practically carrying Anders between them... Their horses were too far away to call.

...

"So, how many times have you done this, in fact?" Wolf was trying to convince Anders to perform another blood magic ritual to boost his strength. "I volunteer! You haven't killed me yet and another cut will not kill me for sure."

"I... I haven't actually taken anyone else's blood before..." Anders looked uneasy.

"But if you don't do it now, this will all have been for naught," Wolf insisted. "Soldier's Peak is still far away and we have no horses. If we stay here, the templars will catch us and..."

"Sshh... Someone's coming!" Zevran shushed them, his superior hearing picking up some rustling noise and what seemed like the sound of hoofs. They had stopped for a short rest in a small cavern out of the way, but perhaps the spot was not secluded enough for someone who knew the area... "Lay low and shut up!" He hissed at them, as they all hid behind the rocks blocking the entrance.

Heavy breathing and panting approached the cavern - a hound or a wolf. Sounds of hoofs followed... horses? The hound was digging at the rocks by the entrance. Were these templars, here to take Anders away?

Wolf pulled out his daggers - there was no room for a sword. He pushed Anders back into the dirt and touched Zevran's shoulder - if they surprised the templars, they stood a chance. Zevran nodded and readied his blades. The sound of hoofs was approaching. Two horses. So, two templars. It would be tough but they could do it. Take out the dog first - Mabari hounds could overwhelm.

They waited for the templars to dismount. The horses stopped, they could hear their breathing, and the dog kept digging at the stones by the entrance. Yet they heard no voices, no clanking of armour, no thumps of heavy boots landing on the forest floor... No templars? Wolf had never seen templars wear anything other than heavy armour, if these were just wearing robes, that would be a first.

Zevran shrugged - he could not hear anyone either. Not even the softest step of the stealthiest rogue... So... what did it mean?

The dog finally managed to dig out one of the rocks. The dog's hot breath and low growl filled the little cave. Zevran raised his dagger - the moment the dog pushed through the opening, he would slit its throat.

Suddenly, the dog stopped digging. Coming so close to the opening, that Wolf and Zevran could see its teeth, the dog made a small, squeaky noise like a puppy calling to its mother...

"It's Bob!!" Wolf hissed as loudly as he dared, signaling Zevran to stand down. "He brought our horses!"

Last Seed, 3E387 - Escape

Although it was still summer, Soldier's Peak was covered in snow. Located high in the coastland mountains, it kept its cool all year around. It was an old base of the Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden, abandoned for the past three hundred years. It was in fact Wolf and his party who helped an old wizard dispell the haunting magic. That old wizard was still living there, the oldest Grey Warden of Ferelden, Avernus. Wolf refused to judge him for what happened so long ago, antagonising Wynne with his decision. But Wolf's position was clear: he was a Grey Warden, his loyalty lay with his Order and he refused to be bound by the currently prevailing morality. Once the fortress had been clensed, the Grey Wardens claimed it once again, and the descendents of the old Commander were glad to make it their home. They were no Grey Wardens, but a fortress needed people to tend to it too, and the Drydens were happy to assume that role. Their great-great-grandmother, Commander Sophia Dryden, had been judged harshly by her contemporaries, resulting in the dissolution of the Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden. The whole Drydens clan suffered for centuries as a result. With the fortress reclaimed, however, they found a new home and a new purpose, that of assisting the Grey Wardens in rebuilding their Order once the Blight was defeated once again.

It was to Soldier's Peak that Wolf and Zevran were bringing Anders from the Tower of Magi. They had just two horses between them, and anyhow Anders was too weak to ride on his own. They propped him up on the saddle behind Wolf and told him to hold on tight.

"Anders, are you awake?" Wolf called out when he felt Anders' grip slipping. "Watch out that you don't fall!"

"Huh?" A sleepy voice replied. "I... I'm awake, I think..."

"He's exhausted," Zevran moved his horse closer. "We'll have to strap him to you. Let's hope you won't have to jump off the horse until Soldier's Peak..."

Anders was too weak to object. They strapped him to Wolf's back and continued.

Twice they had to stop and it was up to Zevran and Bob to deal with the bandits along the way.

"You have excellent armour!" One bandit called out. "It will look better on me!!"

Zevran smirked and dismounted. Wolf picked up his crossbow. Bob charged the nearest bandit. It wasn't that hard to put them down; the hardest part was to calm the horse so that it wouldn't throw them off.

"Do you see this crest?" Zevran knelt over the bandit that wanted his armour. "Crows send their regards. I'll let you live, so you could tell the others. Do not cross me again."

They rode through the night without stopping, not wanting to risk getting caught. Anders went limp, but Wolf could feel his breathing behind him and knew that he wasn't dead. Finally, in the afternoon of the following day they reached the mountains surrounding Soldier's Peak and started their ascent just as the sun was setting. The air was growing colder by the minute, and Anders' breathing became shallow.

"Anders is cold," Wolf stopped his horse, not asking Anders himself as he didn't expect a reply. "The ascent is still long, we need to wrap him up better."

"He is past wrapping up," Zevran checked Anders' pulse. "He's passed out. He is cold and needs warming up, or else hypothermia will get him. Strip off."

"Whaa---?" Wolf's surprise made him slip into his native Nord accent. "Why?"

"Your body heat will keep him alive," Zevran smiled. "We'll strap him to your back, then wrap up both of you together. Let's hope it will be enough... He'll survive frostbite on his toes, if it is only that."

Several hours later two riders and a dog appeared in the courtyard of the Soldier's Peak fortress.

"Who goes there?" Someone challenged them over the barking of the dogs.

"Grey Wardens," Zevran replied loudly and clearly. "Home at last."

It took some doing to unwrap Wolf and Anders and to carry Anders inside, still unconscious. A warm bath was prepared and a cot was placed by the fire. The news that the Commander himself would be staying at the keep for the foreseeable future, spread through the fortress within minutes of their arrival, and despite the late hour, every inhabitant of Soldier's Peak came to welcome them home.

"We weren't expecting you, Commander, your rooms aren't ready!"

"I'm so sorry, we only have stew for supper! But we shall make sure there's roast tomorrow!"

"My goodness, we're out of buns! You can't have the Commander of the Grey just eat plain bread!"

"Where is the wine? Don't give him mead, that's for common folk!"

"No, actually, I'll have the mead!" Wolf tried to cut through the chaos of everyone talking at once.

Eventually children were sent to bed and adults calmed down, with most of them retiring for the night. Two women were still fussing over Anders, rubbing salves into his pale body and lamenting his starving looks.

"He looks like he's been starved for half a year at least!" One of them exclaimed. "Poor boy!"

"Perhaps not quite half a year, but several months for certain," Wolf tried to think how much time had passed since they first met Anders in Redcliffe. It seemed like a lifetime ago. "I just hope that he wakes up..."

"That he will," the older woman got to her feet, putting away the jars and bottles of remedies. "He's got some frostbite but he will live." She looked him over another time and tucked a blanket around him. "Now, what about you, Commander?" She looked sternly at Wolf. "Those wounds won't close if you keep scatching off the scabs..!"

...

It had been several days, and life at Soldier's Peak finally calmed down. Anders indeed woke up eventually, weak but alive, and happy to be out of the dungeon. Wolf made it a point to meet everyone in the keep, including young children and dogs. Bob found the kennels and chose to stay there rather than with humans. Things were looking up.

"Do you hear from Avernus at all?" Wolf asked Levi Dryden, the man who led them to Soldier's Peak to begin with.

"No, he keeps to himself," Levi shook his head. "We leave food for him by the door to his tower, but we don't go in. He takes the food... I wonder how he survived all this time, locked up in there... Surely, a man must eat, even a wizard..."

"I don't think he was locked up in there," Wolf pointed out. "Remember, when we first came here, there was a seal around the keep to hold in the demons, but Avernus' tower wasn't in it. It has a way into the caverns... He must have used that. A man must eat, as you say... I should go and say hello."

...

"So, the Grey Warden returns!" Avernus greeted Wolf when Wolf pushed the door to his tower. "Here for the summer?" He grinned.

"The Order has been reinstated," Wolf started with the most important news. "And the Blight is over, but you knew that already, of course."

"Yes, I felt it," Avernus nodded. "Remarkable how it works... So, how many Grey Wardens does Ferelden have now?"

"Three," Wolf shrugged. "Yourself included."

"Three?" Avernus squinted. "So, who killed the Archdemon?"

"I did."

"And yet here you are, alive and well, standing before me..." Avernus looked Wolf over, head to toe. "Interesting... You'll have to tell me about that, in detail... Very interesting indeed..." He paused, making mental notes. "So, what is it you wanted to ask?" Avernus grinned, seeing Wolf's surprise. "Oh, I cannot read your mind, don't worry. I just read your face. So let's hear it."

"I brought a mage with us... a young blood mage..." Wolf started cautiously. "He'd been starved for several months and is very weak..." He paused, searching for words.

"But..? I assume you tried all the usual remedies."

"He is not improving," Wolf looked worried. "In fact, despite the food and rest, he seems to be withering away, and quickly."

"And you want me to have a look?" Avernus picked up his staff. "Let's go then. There are several things I can think of..." He rubbed his chin. "A blood mage, you say? Hmm..."

...

When they entered the common room of the keep, they heard loud voices and clanking of heavy armour.

"We are here in the name of the Chantry to arrest an escaped apostate and maleficar that you are harboring! He cannot hide behind Grey Wardens!" An angry woman spoke in a commanding tone. "I demand you hand him over at once!"

"There is no one here who answers that description," the older housekeeper was standing her ground. "This is private property belonging to the Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden! You can't just barge in like that with your demands!"

Wolf took in the scene at a glance. Templars evidently tracked them down and were now demanding Anders' surrender. Three templars stood in the room, but were there more outside? Wolf noticed Zevran behind the door, blades at the ready.

"I am the Commander of the Grey," Wolf stepped forward. "You will leave these premises at once. These carpets have just been replaced, I want no blood stains on them. If there's anything you want to ask of me, do it outside!"

"You are harboring a fugitive! An apostate! A blood mage!"

"All three of them?" Wolf squinted, mocking. "Out!" He drew his sword and pointed at the door.

To his surprise, the templars obeyed. "They have reinforcements outside," he shook his head. Zevran stepped from behind the door. "Shall we?" Wolf shot a glance at Avernus - his face was set in resolve. Three against how many? Not as many as an army of darkspawn. They'd manage.

...

"You fight like a bleeding Archdemon, Commander!" The templar commander was on the ground, begging for mercy. "You can keep your apostate - he isn't worth it!"

"The bleeding Archdemon did not survive, so take heed," Wolf withdrew his sword from her throat. "The Chantry has no power over Grey Wardens."

"But he isn't... Oh never mind!" The templars were scrambling to their feet. "We'll say you invoked the Rite of Conscription!" She grinned, then gave a short laugh. "He will never survive the Joining. Good day to you, Commander."

...

"She's right, you know, your young friend is too weak," Avernus turned to Wolf after he examined Anders. "I can boost his strength of course, but that isn't the solution. We have to find the cause of his decline... besides starvation, that is. Now, did anything out of the ordinary happen in the past few days?" He asked Anders. "Did they give you anything unusual to eat or drink? Any strange magic cast upon you?"

"There was nothing unusual to eat, no... and templars don't cast magic..." Anders was trying to remember the last few days in the dungeons. "Well, I did have to boost my strength through blood so that we could escape..."

"Whose blood?" Avernus looked up sharply.

"Commander's..."

"A Grey Warden's blood?!"

"I didn't want to! But he insisted!" Anders protested.

"Oh, I don't mean it like that," Avernus softened his tone. "But a Grey Warden's blood is tainted. You have taken in some of the taint through your ritual. You are no Grey Warden yet, but if you want to live, the path lies through the Joining."

Evening Star, 3E387 - The Blight isn't over

Several months have passed since Wolf and Zevran brought Anders to Soldier's Peak. Avernus boosted his strength and Anders survived the Joining. The Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden now had four members.

"I understand why some recruits do not survive the Joining," Anders was musing one day. "Other than being physically too weak to absorb the taint... It's mental resistance that some might be lacking. When the Archdemon talks to you and makes you an offer to come over and join darkspawn instead..."

"The Archdemon made no such offer to me," Wolf shook his head. "And which Archdemon are you talking about? The Blight is over, there is no Archdemon... is there? No dragon has been talking to me in my sleep for a while."

"Err... that is... disturbing," Anders stared at Wolf. "I thought it was the Archdemon... a great big dragon, no? Unless... hmm..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless it was a different being that took the shape of a dragon to make me listen..." Anders rubbed his chin. "The Joining takes you into the Fade, you figured it out, I suppose?" He looked up and Wolf nodded. "Yes... Nothing is as it seems in the Fade. So it wasn't an Archdemon, so soon after the previous one was killed... But then - who was it?"

"I don't know and I don't like it," Wolf frowned. "I feel something too... The darkspawn have not dispersed as they should have done. Someone else is leading them now. The darkspawn army will make another move!"

...

"Vigil Keep is the oldest fortress in this province," a young female knight was telling Wolf and Anders as they were approaching the Keep. "The previous land owners used it as their home too. It would make for a very good and imposing base for the Grey Wardens Order. And anyhow, it needs to be secured, whether you make it your base or not."

The walls of an ancient fortress were already visible up ahead when a man out of breath was seen running away from it.

"Are you Grey Wardens?" He managed to say. "The Keep has fallen! Darkspawn are everywhere and everyone is dead!!!"

"Except for you, obviously," Wolf steadied the trembling man. "Who is 'everyone'?"

"The other Grey Wardens! The ones that had been sent ahead of your arrival! Grey Wardens of Orlais!" The man collapsed at his feet, exhausted.

"Hmm... Grey Wardens of Orlais, of all places..." Wolf shook his head. "Orlais, the kingdom that had enslaved Ferelden for over a century. Didn't the previous king perish trying to free Ferelden? Wasn't Loghain his General, the General who won that war? Didn't Alistair make it all clear to the Head Quarters?" Wolf shook his head again. "And they send us Grey Wardens of Orlais! I'm not so sure it was darkspawn that stormed the Keep and not just a bunch of angry locals!"

"Err... perhaps we should just go and see, eh? Commander?" Anders spoke softly.

"Yes, you're right," Wolf snapped out of his spell of indignation. "Prepare for battle though."

As they approached the Keep, they found the gates open and darkspawn battling the Keep soldiers in the courtyard. Darkspawn, not angry locals.

"What happened?" Wolf tried to get a feel for the situation from one of the soldiers.

"We got overwhelmed!" He breathed heavily. "All the Grey Wardens are dead! I think..."

"You think?"

"I don't know for sure, I stayed outside! The darkspawn are coming from the Keep!"

"From the building?" Wolf found it hard to believe. "But how..?" He shook his head, intercepting a glance from Anders. "Oh never mind, let's go and see!"

The Keep was indeed overrun by darkspawn and their corpses were everywhere. If the Grey Wardens were dead, they didn't go down twiddling their thumbs. Yet where were their bodies? Wolf couldn't see any Grey Wardens among the fallen. There were darkspawn and soldiers, but no Grey Wardens... how odd.

They fought their way to the battlements where more fighting was still ongoing. A darkspawn General was holding a knight at the tip of his sword... a Grey Warden knight. Wolf lunged at the General without thinking.

...

"I thank you, Warden Commander," the knight bowed his head when the fight was over. "I am no longer as strong as I used to be... which is why I was given this post - I am the seneschal of this Keep, a glorified housekeeper, really..."

"I think you acquitted yourself formidably, Seneschal," Wolf smiled, looking over heapes of darkspawn corpses covering the battlements. "Those were overwhelming odds. But tell me - how did it happen?"

"I don't rightly know, Commander," the Seneschal shook his head. "They came from the Keep itself... overwhelmed us during the night... Some of the Grey Wardens simply vanished, while others fell in battle. The Keep does have basements that go very deep... and there's been talk..."

"We'll investigate the basements later," Wolf changed the subject. "But how is it possible that the Wardens didn't sense the darkspawn approach? We always do, that's why we drink their blood during the Joining!"

"I don't rightly know," the Seneschal looked apologetic. "I am sorry."

"Alright, we'll figure it out," Wolf smiled. "Let's finish clearing the Keep."

They went through the remainder of the Keep clearing darkspawn, but didn't see any new arrivals. It really seemed as if they got what they came for and withdrew. There were only a few Grey Wardens that fell in that battle, the rest seemed to have vanished.

"I've never heard of darkspawn taking prisoners," Wolf was saying with worry. "Is this some sort of new type of intelligent darkspawn? What do they want with the Wardens?"

"I don't know and I don't like it," the Seneschal agreed. "We'll need to investigate. But in the meantime, we have new arrivals! The Head Quarters sent us new recruits."

"I wasn't sent by no Head Quarters!" A familiar voice sounded behind Wolf. "Commander, eh? Well, I'm here to join!"

"Oghren!" Wolf spun around, recognising the dwarf they met in the Deep Roads. "Clad in the armour of the Legion of the Dead, no less. And reaking of booze, as always."

"Old habits never die," he grinned. "Yes, I joined the Legion for a short time, but then decided I'd be better off with you. I spent too long on the surface, they kept teasing me about being a surface dwarf, that I betrayed the Stone and all that... ugh..."

"Then welcome," Wolf smiled. "I'm sure you'll do just fine at the Joining."

"I am here to join as well," the guide that brought them to Vigil Keep spoke up. "I am a knight with the Royal Guard... and... well... I got bored..."

"Then join the party, girl!" Oghren laughed out loud. "Like, what are you doing tonight?"

"Eewww..!"

...

The Joining ceremony was solemn, as usual. Oghren drank the entire contents of the chalice and the Seneschal had to prepare a fresh mixture. The young knight didn't fare as well though - she did not survive.

"It would have been better for her to remain bored," Oghren said with regret.

After the ceremony, the first order of the day was to investigate the basements, then the dungeons, then talk to the tradesmen, the weaponsmith, the armourer, the greengrocer, the... treasurer?

"I was sent by the Head Quarters to assist you," a very stern looking ageing woman addressed Wolf and he felt being back in junior school with his school mistress telling him off for skipping his homework again. "I shall control... err... manage your funds."

"We need more Grey Wardens! Warriors! Archers! Mages!" Wolf rolled his eyes. "And the Head Quarters sends us an accountant?!"

"Such are the orders of the First Commander," the woman answered firmly.

Their days were filled with tasks, even including fighting darkspawn. Anders was fully recovered and proved to be a talented mage. He still used blood magic but never took anyone else's blood but his own. He focused on healing magics and learned to raise people knocked out in battle, but he never made it sound like a necromancy spell.

"It doesn't actually matter what you say when you cast a spell," he shrugged when Wolf told him that Morrigan used a different incantation. "It's just something to focus your mind. I prefer to say something nice instead."

"So what do you say when you slit your wrist for a blood ritual?" Wolf squinted.

"Ouch - it hurts!"

...

"Oh look - this is a silverite mine!" Oghren pointed out ore deposits in one of the caves that they came across. "It proves that this area is connected to the Dwarven Kingdom!"

"Why? Because it's got an ore vein?" Anders squinted.

"No, because I said so!" Oghren snapped at him. "Remember what we found in the basement of the Keep? An exit into the Deep Roads!"

"Yes, that explains where the darkspawn came from," Wolf nodded. "It doesn't explain where they've gone to and what they've done with the Grey Wardens that vanished. But I suppose we should explore this mine..."

The mine was eerily quiet. There was no darkspawn, no spiders and even no rats. It looked as if the miners simply went home for supper, yet a fine layer of dust over everything indicated that no one set foot in that mine for a very long time.

"I don't like it," Wolf frowned. "I cannot sense any darkspawn, but I know they are nearby... They must be..."

They walked on, turned a corner, heard something snap... and felt the ground fall away under their feet, taking them into the depths of a dark and ominous chasm...

Evening Star, 3E387 - A new kind of darkspawn

Wolf, Anders and Oghren woke up in a locked cell of an underground fort. They were stripped of their armour and weapons and left just with plain clothes on their backs.

"What is the meaning of this, I wonder?" Wolf got up and looked through the bars.

"Those bastards stole my hipflask!!" Oghren exloded in swears. "We've got to get out of here!"

"On that we agree," Wolf nodded. "But this lock is too hard to pick."

"And you have no lockpicks," Anders pointed out.

"And I was never good at picking locks," Wolf had to admit.

"Oh, stand aside, you whimps..." Oghren stepped back, then took a run at the door, crushing into it like a wrecking ball. The lock screeched and clicked and the door flung open. "I don't need no lockpicks..." He snorted.

The fort had a complicated layout of old halls, cells, cave-ins and earth tunnels, and in every section there was darkspawn. Corpses, too - humans, elves, dwarves. They were either stripped naked or only wore simple clothes, and it was impossible to tell who those people were or what they did in life.

"Some of them may be our Grey Wardens," Wolf peered into their faces. "If they were captured like we were... but to what end, I wonder?"

"All these people are infected with darkspawn taint," Anders pointed out. "Look at the marks on their skin... These corpses have been here for different lengths of time, some are already quite decomposed, while others are very fresh..."

"Stop talking about them as if they are ham!" Oghren snapped. "You're making me hungry."

"They also all seem to have been tortured... or experimented upon..." Wolf examined a fresh corpse. "Look - needle marks and small cuts..."

"Like the cuts we make for blood rituals," Anders nodded. "But... darkspawn are mindless creatures, aren't they? So who is the scientist?"

They got so engrossed in their investigation that they didn't hear darkspawn approach.

"Hey! That darkspawn's got my junk!!!" Oghren bellowed, spotting one wearing his armour. "No one steals Oghren's junk and lives!!!"

As they moved further, they came across other darkspawn in possession of their things, which they liberated. What was rather more disturbing, however, was that some of the darkspawn were no darkspawn at all. They were people infected with the taint, but they were no mindless ghouls. They fought with intelligence and determination...

"...like they were Grey Wardens." Wolf dropped to his knees by the body of one such person that they finally defeated. "You didn't know who we were, did you, Brother?" He closed the dead man's eyes, realising that the man was a man no longer - whatever experiments were performed on him, turned him into darkspawn, but one with superior reasoning and skills. He was not controlled by anyone, the way an Archdemon controls his Generals. Instead, this man was controlling the darkspawn. "Someone here is building an army," Wolf got up. "And if he isn't an Archdemon, than who is he and what does he want?"

Yet, besides more darkspawn, they did not find anything else, and certainly got no answers. Then, in the final hall, they saw a strange being on the balcony. He resembled a demonic abomination but had less disgusting fleshy growth; he also resembled darkspawn, but with a less revolting look. There was intelligence in his face, and he wore an elaborate, if bizarre, vestment - an armoured robe, perhaps, or a breastplate with tails... An elf and a dwarf stood at his side, each infected with darkspawn taint, but neither was a ghoul. They nodded to each other and the man clapped his hands, calling forth two drakes that were nesting under the high vaulted ceiling. Our party was not meant to escape.


"These dragons don't look nearly as big as the one I met in the Fade!" Anders exclaimed, readying a spell.

"These aren't dragons!" Wolf shouted, loading his crossbow. "These are drakes! Lesser dragon kin! But they'll kill us all the same if we don't focus!"

"So focus!" Oghren bellowed. "Leave the biology lecture for after supper! Arghhhhh!!!!"

Two drakes presented a very significant challenge. Oghren charged them without fear and took most damage, getting knocked out several times during the fight. Anders had his hands full watching and reviving him again and again. Wolf ran out of enchanted bolts for his crossbow and switched to plain ones, but they didn't do nearly enough damage. He then started dipping them in poison, throwing acid bombs, even tried laying traps... But that took time and it was hard to predict where a drake might land, and as a result it was Oghren who got caught in the traps rather than the drakes.

"Stop running around and cut your wrists!" Oghren shouted over the screeching of angry drakes. "I saw you do it before! Horror or pain or whatever you unleash with that! Do it!!!"

"I don't know how to choose..." Wolf started to object, but one of the drakes landed nearly on top of him, pushing him to decide quickly. "Let my pain be yours!!!" He screamed, cutting his wrist. A spray of blood shot from the wound, hitting the drake square in the chest, it shrieked, as if it too received a wound. "It worked!" Wolf quickly rolled from under the drake and took up his sword. "You won't fly again!" The drake was still cowering in pain, and Wolf jumped on top of him, going for the wings.

"That's the way!!" Oghren ran over and together they finished off a nearly immobilised drake.

What came next, was completely unexpected: Wolf collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

...

"Blood magic is a dangerous thing!" Wolf heard Anders' voice in the distance. "Oh come on now, time to wake up!"

He sat up, looking around. The two drakes lay dead, Oghren was "applying medicine" from his hipflask and Anders was applying bandages on all three of them.

"What happened?"

"You shared your pain with the drake," Anders looked up. "But that didn't absolve you from that pain yourself. On the contrary, you were losing blood and taking punishment. The more punishment, the greater the effect, and that's what defeated that drake so quickly. But you didn't stop in time... You died with that drake too."

"I died?!" Wolf cried out, thinking it was a bad joke.

"Yes, I had to resurrect you," Anders nodded. "There's a small window after a person dies, during which time a Spirit Healer might repair the damage and coerse the person's spirit to return into the body..."

"Save your lectures for after supper, mage," Oghren had had enough of the learned talk. "You raised him, and he isn't a ghoul, that's good enough for me. Let's get out of here."

It was only then that they looked up to the balcony where they'd seen that strange being with two companions. They were still there, watching. Wolf got up and wanted to say something, but the being slowly shook his head and turned around to leave, signaling his companions to follow. Wolf's first impulse was to go after them, but there was no obvious way to get to the upper level, and if there were any more drakes ahead, they would not survive. With a sigh, he turned to the door - it was time to return to Vigil Keep.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evening Star, 3E387 - Mother and Father

"Kristoff went to Black Marsh," Wolf finished reading the journal of one of the Grey Wardens that had been sent to Vigil Keep ahead of them. "At least he didn't get kidnapped by the darkspawn like the others..."

"What's in Black Marsh?" Oghren squinted. "I heard stories... the place is haunted."

"And so it is," Wolf nodded. "That's why Kristoff went there. Someone told him they saw darkspawn coming from there, so he went to investigate."

"And he hasn't returned," Anders noted with caution. "This doesn't bode well..."

...

Black Marsh was a swampy area to the East of Vigil Keep. It used to have a village and a mansion, and life there was rumoured to be good and prosperous in spite of the soggy ground. It was in fact that soggy ground that provided the wealth - peat was a valuable commodity. But several years ago something happened, some kind of a supernatural blast. It ignited the peat and both the village and the mansion went up in flames. People tried returning to the marsh, but they kept hearing voices, and rumours spoke of strange deaths and disappearances... But perhaps those were just rumours. Regardless, the place was declared lost, and even the peat could not attract anyone any longer.

"Well, it must be haunted because here's the sign saying so," Oghren smirked when they approached the entrance to the area. "It does look awfully dark and dull in there, like they have a different weather or something..."

The area was deserted. The village and the mansion were but burned out husks, all trees were charred and electrical charge hung in the air.

"Whatever happened here, tore holes in the Veil," Anders declared, sniffing the air. "Perhaps not big enough to let a horde of demons through... But that peat was ignited by magic, I am certain."

"And here comes darkspawn!!!" Oghren bellowed, noticing a group of darkspawn emerge from under the ground. It wasn't that hard to put them down, but more and more kept coming, there seemed to be an endless supply. The darkspawn seemed to push them onto a clearing. Once they reached it, darkspawn stopped coming.

"This must be Kristoff!" Wolf noticed a body of a man among all the darkspawn corpses. "He fell in battle."

"Yes, the Mother's plan worked," a darkspawn emissary stepped forward. "The Mother knows best..."

"A talking darkspawn..?" Oghren was taken aback. "That can't be!"

"The Mother wishes to talk," the emissary addressed Wolf. "Talk with Grey Wardens. Come, I take you to the Mother."

"Did she want to talk to Kristoff as well?" Wolf squinted, unsheathing his sword. "And who is she, anyway? A broodmother, perhaps?"

"The Mother wishes to hear the Song again," the emissary replied. "The Father wishes to kill the Song... The Mother wishes to kill the Father."

"The Father must be that other being we met in the silverite mine," Anders said quietly. "They are both after Grey Wardens... I don't like it."

"I don't think the Mother wishes to talk at all," Oghren took up his battleaxe. "Talking or not, he's still darkspawn. I say we kill him."

"No, I must take you to the Mother!" The emissary exclaimed and cast a spell... The world around them whirled and twisted, and a moment later they stood on dry ground in Black Marsh, and it was nothing like the Black Marsh from a moment ago.

"This is the Fade," Anders looked around. "Is the Mother in the Fade?"

"The Fade! The Mother is not in the Fade! The Mother tricked me!" The darkspawn emissary looked angry. "I shall find a way out and kill the Mother!"

"We should find a way out too," Anders pointed out. "Before our bodies back in Mundus die of starvation."

"And thirst," Oghren nodded, taking a swig from his hip flask. "It just doesn't taste right..."

As they walked around the Fade version of Black Marsh, they met many villagers that must have lived in the real village. They seemed to have recently realised where they were, and they gathered around the mansion to demand that the baroness living there, would send them home. The baroness, however, just laughed.

"She is possessed by a Demon of Pride," a spirit approached them. "I've watched it long enough... I am Justice. I do not meddle in the affairs of mortals, but this has gone beyond that. I shall help you oust the baroness," he looked at the crowd.

Cheers followed, and the gates were breached. The baroness appeared on the steps of her mansion and a battle ensued. Wolf didn't even have time to consider whether he wanted to join forces with a spirit or not... suddenly there was a demon to battle, and he had no choice.

They could not defeat the demon, not even with their combined might. Half way through the battle the demon cast a spell, the world whirled and twisted and they stood in the Black Marsh again.

"Well, at least we're out of the Fade!" Anders got up from the ground, patting his robe. "It could have been worse, I suppose..."

"Where am I?" They heard a voice behind them. "What is this place?"

Kristoff's dead body rose from the ground, animated by a spirit within.

"Justice?" Anders took a cautious step forward. "What are you doing out of the Fade and in Kristoff's body?"

"I... I do not know," the spirit sounded disturbed. "The spell that the demon cast... it affected me as well... but I have no body in this world... Kristoff, you say? Ah, the man whose body I inhabit... I have his memories... It hasn't been long since he died... He was a Grey Warden, like you... all of you..."

"Can you get back to the Fade?" Anders seemed fascinated by the spirit in Kristoff's body. "What are you going to do?"

"I... I do not know..." The spirit looked lost.

"Well, Kristoff was a Grey Warden, and you are in his body," Wolf decided to be practical. "We fight darkspawn. We defeated the Blight, but something is afoot and darkspawn are not withdrawing. If you have no better plans, join us until we figure out how to get you back to the Fade."

"Plans..? I have no plans... But your cause is just, and this world so strange and unfamiliar... I shall join you, Warden."

"Why do I feel that I am going to regret this?" Anders muttered under his breath but didn't say anything aloud.

And thus Justice became a rather odd member of the Grey Wardens. Upon reflection, he found a lot of similarities between the Fade and the mortal world, and soon he felt less lost or confused than before. Still, the body he inhabited was dead and started to decompose. It had to be returned to Kristoff's widow for burial, too. But once again the situation was forced by a darkspawn incursion.

An army of horrific new darkspawn attacked a city near Vigil Keep. At the same time a more conventional army of darkspawn flooded the countryside. It was as if the Blight had restarted all over again.

"So much for trusting Morrigan!" Alistair spoke angrily. "That witch betrayed us, Wolf! The Archdemon must have been reborn! You are still alive because the Archdemon lives as well!"

"I am not so sure it's the Archdemon leading them, actually," Wolf shook his head. "Did you learn anything interesting at the Head Quarters? The orders of the First Commander were strange indeed... sending here Grey Wardens of Orlais at first, and then following up with an accountant? An accountant???? What on earth are they thinking?"

"I... well... bureaucracy, you know..." Alistair shuffled his feet. "They didn't want to hear any reports... I had to write it all down, and they filed it away without reading..."

"Well, that explains a lot!" Wolf scowled. "At least the documents will be safe there... safer than being stored in an enchanted chest at Ostagar... Although I see now why Duncan chose a chest to start with..."

"Yeah..." Alistair sighed. "So, it's up to us again then. What shall we do, Commander?"

"We fight darkspawn, what else?" Wolf grinned. "Come on, we have a city to defend!"

They rushed to the city under siege, clearing darkspawn along the way. They made a good dent in the darkspawn army and things started to look up, when suddenly another talking darkspawn emissary arrived on the scene in between the fighting.

"I bring a message from the Father!" He shouted. "Hear me out!"

Wolf signaled the soldiers to hold their fire and the emissary continued.

"The Mother is sending an army much bigger than this to the Vigil Keep! She wants to wipe out all Grey Wardens! The Father wants to help the Wardens! He gives you directions to the Mother's lair! Hurry! Save your Keep! Kill the Mother!"

"Who is this Father and Mother?" Alistair looked dumbstruck seeing a talking darkspawn. "What is going on?"

"New kind of darkspawn," Wolf replied quickly. "More dangerous than ever before. There seem to be two factions..."

"Both are darkspawn and need to be killed!" Alistair squinted, ready to charge the emissary.

"Yes, but we do not know how to reach the Father," Wolf stopped him, then addressed the emissary. "We thank you for the message," he said calmly. "We shall take the fight to the Mother, but not before we have cleared this city. Vigil Keep has its own defenders, the city does not."

"But Grey Wardens must not die!" The emissary objected. "Grey Wardens must save the Keep!"

"Grey Wardens defend the land from darkspawn," Wolf shook his head. "We stay."

"What shall we do with the messenger?" The City Guard commander asked Wolf, ready to charge the emissary.

"Let him go," Wolf shook his head. "He needs to return to the Father with our response..."

It didn't take too long to clear the city of darkspawn, and Wolf and his party rushed to Vigil Keep. The Keep however was completely surrounded by a sea of monstrous creatures - far more monstrous than the usual darkspawn.

"The Mother's army," Wolf said to Alistair. "Darkspawn like we've never seen it before. If we engage them here, we'll die, we are too late to join the defense of the Keep. Our best bet is to go after the Mother."

"And if she is indeed the one directing this army, the battle will end soon after her death," Alistair nodded. "Let's go. The emissary's information better be correct!"

...

As they approached the location of an abandoned ruin high in the mountains, they started seeing more and more of that new type of darkspawn - the Mother's army. It seemed they were on the right track. The further and deeper into the ruin they went, the more darkspawn they saw. The battles were heavy, and they wondered what was still to come.

"The Mother is a broodmother of some sort," Alistair theorised. "She seems to be laying eggs... These darkspawn seem to develop from fat worms into flesh eating bugs into... I don't want to think what the final form will be like!"

"Something most unpleasant, no doubt," Anders agreed, trying not to inhale too much stench and not succeeding. "Why does this stuff have to smell so bad?"

"Don't think of it - just squash them!" Oghren smashed another cocoon and green sticky liquid oozed out of it. "That one will never hatch!"

They turned a corner and entered another hall, ready for battle. But this time there were no darkspawn there, instead they saw the strange being again, and they realised this was the Father.


"I wish to help you defeat the Mother," he said. "She is pure evil, she built a spectacular army which she controls. I, on the other hand, do not seek to control my brethren, I seek to free them. They regain their minds and start thinking for themselves. It is true that darkspawn is drawn to the old gods slumbering beneath the earth. We seek one out and make it rise as the next Archdemon. Then a new Blight begins, and you have to defeat it. But darkspawn never disappears, we simply regroup and the cycle starts again. I wish to break the cycle. I wish to free my brethren from their urge to seek out an old god to make into an Archdemon. If I succeed, there will never be another Blight. But for that I need your help."

Wolf couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, yet the Father was a most intriguing figure. He said nothing, and the Father continued.

"The same as Grey Wardens drink darkspawn blood to become what they are, darkspawn needs Grey Warden blood to free them from the call to raise a new Archdemon. All I ask is some of your blood, and in exchange I shall help you defeat the Mother."

"There are a lot more darkspawn than there are Grey Wardens," Anders said softly. "I don't think there will be any blood left for ourselves."

"This doesn't sound right," Alistair agreed. "Didn't you find some of the Grey Wardens in that ruin where you were imprisoned? And they were turned into darkspawn?"

"I must apologise for restraining you there," the Father spoke again. "I had to protect you from the darkspawn..."

"Do you realise that none of it makes sense?" Wolf squinted at him. "You tried to kill us with those drakes! We were not supposed to escape! You experimented on other Grey Wardens, we've seen the signs... And yes, some of the darkspawn appear to be freed... but the majority are still the same as before! I don't see how it can work."

"This is all that I can tell you, I am afraid," the Father inclined his head. "You have to trust in my best intentions."

"Yeah, and that isn't going to happen!!" Oghren cried out in anger. "Why are we even still talking to him? I am not giving my blood to darkspawn, and that is final!"

Everyone agreed with Oghren and a battle broke out. The Father wasn't easy to defeat, but defeat him they did. When he lay motionless on the ground, they could finally examine his body.

"He was a human once," Anders concluded. "Then he turned into... something. His robe appears to be Tevinter... a very old design. Say... could he be one of those first mages that corrupted the Golden City? They were Tevinter magisters, if memory serves..."

"That's what the Chantry preaches, yes," Alistair nodded. "The Golden City was the residence of the Maker, and Tevinter magisters corrupted it, turning it into the Black City, and they themselves became the first darkspawn... If this... man... was one of them... then there must be others."

"Hmm... That is a disturbing thought," Wolf nodded. "But anyhow, this one is dead, now we have to find the Mother, whatever she is."

...

"Oh, the Father is dead! You killed the Father! You killed the Architect!!!" A bleeding broodmother presided over a large hall deeper in the ruin. She could not move, but many agile tentacles reminded our party that she did not have to move. Broodmothers had other ways to do battle. "The Father was the one who stopped the Song! The most beautiful music that made me forget who I was and what I have become! Now there is just silence - and suffering! Did he say he wanted to free us? Well, he's done it to me! And look at me now!!!"


"Did you really want to wipe out all Grey Wardens?" Wolf asked her.

"Of course! He uses your blood to kill the Song!"

"Let's just kill her and be done with it," Alistair unsheathed his sword.

"Yes! You came to kill the Mother! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!" She laughed, and her voice echoed in the hall. "Perhaps in death I shall hear the Song again!"

She attacked. It appeared that even though she wanted to be dead, she was still going to try to take as many Grey Wardens with her as she could.

...

"That was no easy fight," Anders commented, rising from a knock-out. "This was one angry woman."

"That's a lot of nipples," Oghren stood over the body of the Mother. "Did she use them all?"

"She didn't, she laid eggs," Alistair shook his head, piercing a few remaining cocoons. "She's dead. Now what?"

"Now we return to Vigil Keep and see if the darkspawn horde has retreated or whether they need reminding to do so," Wolf wiped his sword on the Mother's skin. "Our battle is not yet over."

"Where's Zevran?" Alistair suddenly realised that he wasn't with them.

"Back at the Keep," Wolf shrugged. "He's been training new recruits when this whole commotion started..."

"Then there's no time to lose!"

Second Seed, 3E388 - End of the Blight

Vigil Keep stood firm against the Mother's darkspawn army. The walls were too strong to breach and the defenders had every tactical advantage. By the time Wolf's party reached the Keep, fighting was receding, in particular since the darkspawn no longer heard the Mother's call. Still, even though no fresh darkspawn was forthcoming, there was a horde to clear.

Many soldiers from the Keep's garrison fell in that battle. It was a stark reminder that even without a Blight, darkspawn always remained a threat. Of the Grey Wardens only one was killed - Kristoff. With Justice animating his body, he fought valiantly until one large Hurlock cut off his head. Kristoff's body was finally returned to his widow for burial, and she was proud that he served with Grey Wardens even after his death.

Yet what became of Justice remained unknown. A spirit without a body, he was a mere wisp in the mortal world, without any possibility of returning to the Fade. Not being a demon, the idea of possessing a living body was abhorrent to him, and the impracticality of possessing a dead one became abundantly clear. After all, within a few days after death, the body began to smell. With all the darkspawn trouble, they never had a chance to figure out how to return Justice to the Fade.

Slowly life calmed down and the Wardens settled in at Vigil Keep. They started rebuilding their ranks, and everyone had their hands full training new recruits. Zevran stayed on as well, although he never became a Grey Warden himself.

Anders and Wolf were spending long stretches of time at Soldier's Peak with Avernus, and Wolf finally learned to use the power of his blood without dying. He also started practicing his Voice - those few words in the dragon tongue that he learned back in Skyrim.

A few months have passed in relative calm, with only some small pockets of darkspawn appearing here and there, which was not unusual after a Blight. By all appearances, it was time for Wolf to return to Tamriel. Yet before going, there was one more thing he wanted to do - to find Morrigan.

It was a difficult task because he promised her to leave her alone and not to follow, but he wanted to know how she was and didn't want to leave without seeing her. She would not object if they merely met by chance... and Wolf was determined to bring that chance about.

He started by visiting the Korcari Wilds, circling around the hut where she and Flemeth used to live, not expecting to find either of them there. Like a hound, he was picking up a scent. To his surprise he found the fire burning in the grate and the dust disturbed, he retreated and waited nearby to see who was there.

An elven woman appeared. She too seemed to be looking for Morrigan, since Wolf could not imagine she would be looking for Flemeth. She muttered under her breath - Morrigan seemed to have stolen something from the Keeper of their clan: an ancient elven book.

"If only I could go to the Tower of Magi!" The woman lamented. "There must be similar books in their library, all books they stole from us! Then this elu... eli... something or other... If I could only figure out what it was, I'd find it and Morrigan with it!"

Wolf briefly considered talking to the elven woman, but shook his head - no, it was none of her business. If they didn't even know what the book was about, she would be of no help. Instead, he went to the Tower of Magi on his own.

...

"Anything I can help you with?" One of the mages in the library had been staring at him for a good half an hour. "Forgive me, but you don't look like a mage."

"It doesn't take a mage to use a library," Wolf smirked. "I can read, thank you."

"Err... that didn't come out right," the mage blushed. "But I notice you're studying books from the Restricted section. Blood magic, ancient artefacts, elven runes... Most mages would require a special permission from the First Enchanter to study any of that... yet the templars just let you have it!" He pursed his lips at such an injustice.

"Well, I do have such a permission from the First Enchanter, as a matter of fact," Wolf smiled. "And I can read, too." He turned away from the mage signaling that the matter was closed.

Fifteen minutes later the mage was back.

"Eluvians do not exist," he said pointing at one of the books on ancient elven artefacts on Wolf's desk. "So you can stop all that cross-referencing, it is all for naught."

Wolf didn't answer and continued his study.

Some time later the mage returned.

"My name is Finn," he sat at the desk next to Wolf. "I've been studying ancient artefacts for years. I know that book by heart. Eluvians don't exist, I'm telling you!"

"Oh really?" Wolf squinted. "Well, if my translation is correct - and I am no scholar - then it appears that you need another elven artefact to reveal an eluvian. Without it, you'd just walk right past it and never know it was there."

"What?!" Finn exclaimed and several heads turned. "Let me see that!"

"Well, I am not so sure if you have a special permission from the First Enchanter to read this, you know. Blood magic and stuff..." Wolf covered the scroll. "Are you even qualified? I've seen enough abominations to last me a lifetime!"

"You've... you've seen abominations?" Finn backed off. "Here in the tower? When... oh! But then you are... oh yes! It makes perfect sense!"

"It does?" Wolf squinted at him.

"I can help you find that eluvian, Commander," Finn gave him a broad smile. "I now know who you are."

"You do?" Wolf smirked. "Alright, so how do you propose to find it?"

"Let me see that scroll first," Finn smiled again. "If your translation is correct..."

Wolf passed him the scroll and Finn took a few moments to read it.

"It is of course another elven artefact that is needed for this," he dropped the scroll on the desk. "I should have seen it myself! Some dwarven ruins are built on top of elven ones which came first. The artefacts can be found there. Something that is known as a 'light'. The only snag is that we need an elf to find it."

"An elf? Which elf?" Wolf thought he knew where it was going.

"Any elf... They are hidden... only for elves to see..." Finn lowered his voice and whispered in Wolf's ear: "We need elven blood to reveal the lights."

"I see," Wolf nodded. "I know an elf that might help us. And I assume you know the spell..?"

"Oh yes," Finn's eyes glistened. "As well as where to go. I even have permission to leave the tower... for research. This is research! It applies," he concluded firmly.

...

Several days later Wolf, Finn and Zevran stood near the entrance of an abandoned dwarven settlement that was built on top of an elven ruin. Traces of elven architecture could still be seen among dwarven carvings.

"This looks a bit like Deep Roads," Zevran looked around. "Let's hope there's no darkspawn!"

Of course there was darkspawn.

"Here they come!" Wolf sensed a group of darkspawn approach. "Prepare for battle!"

"Battle?!" Finn froze. "But..."

"Finn," Wolf turned to him and took his wrist. "You are a blood mage. This is no different than performing one of your rituals. Keep me and Zevran alive and try not to get hit yourself. We'll be fine."

"How did you..?" Finn almost choked, but Wolf only shot him a glance - there was no more time for talk.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for Finn to recover. The group of darkspawn was small, even if it did outnumber them three to one. They were defeated without an incident.

"Phew... I've never been in a fight before..." Finn was still shaking slightly. "This is nothing like performing a ritual! I only make a small cut, only a few drops of blood are required for most things, there's no cutting off heads or freezing them solid or... Did you slit your wrist as well?!" He suddenly realised why Wolf's wrist was bleeding slightly. "So the rumours are true!"

"What rumours?" Wolf looked at him sideways, putting pressure on the wrist.

"Shall we return to the task at hand?" Zevran interrupted them. "If it's elven blood you want, you should be looking at my wrists, not his."

The ritual was very simple and required just a few drops of Zevran's blood, as Finn had promised. It revealed a pathway and hidden locations where Finn had to cast another spell to reveal the actual lights they were after. Lanterns, as it appeared. They collected all the lanterns they could find and set off to Brecilian Forest in search of an ancient elven ruin with a hidden eluvian.

...

"Just how much elven blood do you actually need?!" Zevran was getting annoyed when Finn asked for his blood for the fifth time. "A few drops here, a few drops there, you'll bleed me empty at this rate!"

"This should be the last time... I hope," Finn looked uncomfortable. "I am sorry! I can't help it! Ancient elves covered everything in blood enchantments! We won't find a thing without your blood!"

"Find what without the blood?" A woman's voice spoke from the next hall. "Did I not ask you not to follow?"

"Leave them to it," Zevran stopped Finn from entering the hall.

"Morrigan," Wolf approached. "I... well... there's no point in pretence, is there?" He smiled. "How are you?"

"Not bad," she smiled too. "I thought you'd find me sooner or later. It's a boy."

"When?"

"Last month."

"What now?"

"Now I must prepare..." She sighed. "Do you know what this is?" She touched the surface of a large mirror before her and it rippled like water.

"An eluvian," Wolf offered.

"Yes... a gate to another Realm... I must take our child there."

"Is he..?" Wolf didn't dare to say it.

"A demon? No," Morrigan smiled. "Right now he is just a little boy. But I can see the signs - he's got an ancient soul. I must see to it that it remains pure and free of any taint."

"Do you want me to come with you? You don't have to do it alone."

"Oh but I do... What I want is... irrelevant now." She looked at him and smiled with sadness. "Perhaps we meet again some day... but until then, it is Flemeth you need to be watching, not me... Flemeth is not what she seems, even to you, and you see more than most. Dragon blood... yes, that must be it." She gave him a long penetrating look, and he took advantage of that pause, ran up to her, catching her in his embrace.

"You won't go without a kiss this time," he said in her ear. "We'll meet again, I am sure of it."

"Not leaving us yet, then?" She looked into his eyes after a time.

"I'm not finished here, no," he smiled. "And when I do... we'll just have to install an eluvian in Tamriel."

They took some time to properly say goodbye, but it was still a goodbye, they both knew it. Future was uncertain, and whether or not they would meet again, remained in question.

"The elven book is there," Morrigan waved towards the corner of the hall. "Take it to the elves for me, will you? They could not even read it... such a shame," she shook her head. "But you've done better... I always knew you could read," she smiled and kissed him again. "I left a little something for you there, I hope it will prove of use... Goodbye, my friend..."

They kissed one last time and Morrigan stepped through the eluvian. Its surface rippled like that of a pond, then went dull and solid. Wolf stared at it for a few moments, then went to pick up the book and the gift. "Morrigan's amulet," he sensed the enchantment. "Take life from the dead..."

Evening Star, 3E389 - A missing mage

Two years or so had passed since the final defeat of the Blight as well as the awakened Mother and Father. Grey Wardens of Ferelden replenished their ranks and peaceful activities replaced constant battles. The Circle of Magi recovered from the rebellion of blood mages, and life really seemed to return to normal. One day the First Enchanter sent a request to the Commander of the Grey to hold a lecture on the nature of the Father, also known as the Architect. Was he really one of the original Tevinter mages who corrupted the Maker's own Golden City? Or was he merely a strange sort of darkspawn? And what was darkspawn in the first place?

Wolf didn't feel at all at ease holding a lecture like that, and he asked Anders to do it instead. Hesitant at first, Anders eventually agreed and left for the Tower of Magi as planned. There he held the lecture with great success, impressing both the mages and the apprentices with his knowledge and charisma. He refused their calls to return to the Circle of Magi, said his goodbyes and set off on his trip back to Vigil Keep. And then he vanished.

...

"Where is Anders?" Alistair spoke with a sense of urgency. "It's not like him to just disappear without a trace. The First Enchanter assures me that the lectures went well and Anders left for Vigil Keep fully intending to return here. But that was three weeks ago! So where is he, I ask?"

"That is worrying, indeed," Wolf nodded. "Have you sent scouts?"

"Yes and nothing," Alistair sighed. "They went all the way to the tower and back, searched side roads and caves... They found no Anders and no body of Anders. The man just vanished!"

"People don't vanish just like that, not even mages," Wolf pointed out. "We've got his phylactery, can you track him down?"

"Can I... what..?" Alistair was taken aback. "I'm no hound!"

"But you are a templar," Wolf didn't give up. "What do you need to find him?"

"Oh... umm... the truth is... err..." Alistair looked away. "I can't do it."

"Why not?"

"I don't take lyrium. I didn't complete my training, I told you. I can't actually hunt down mages."

"So for the better," Wolf grinned. "But what are we going to do?"

"We could ask someone from the Chantry..."

"No."

"Well... We could send scouts further afield..."

...

"Anders is in Kirkwall," Alistair handed Wolf a report a week later. "Hiding in Darktown, blending in with refugees. Doing some healing, apparently. But why, I have no idea."

"Something must have happened," Wolf carefully read the report but it didn't say anything more. "I'll go. This may require a delicate touch... so don't wait up."

...

Kirkwall greeted Wolf with disbelief and rejection.

"The city is closed, we want no more refugees!" The guard pushed him back quite unceremoniously when Wolf requested entry, having arrived by ship like many others. "Back off! The Blight's been over for a while, so go back to your country!"

"I am not actually a refugee," Wolf took a step closer. "I have business here. Where is your Captain?"

"The Captain is too busy to talk to the likes of you!" The guard answered automatically and spit. "Look, we don't want your sort here, so buzz off!"

"I wouldn't talk to him like that if I were you," a passer-by said to the guard in a low voice. "That's a Grey Warden."

"I don't care if he's blue or green, he isn't coming in!"

"Did you fall on your head, boy?" The passer-by looked down on the guard, and it was remarkable how he managed to do it since he was a dwarf. "A Grey Warden," he repeated with emphasis. "A Captain at least... or may be even a Commander... Have you ever seen such armour before?"

The guard stared at Wolf, only then noticing his rare engraved silverite armour, something they picked up on their travels, found in an ancient ruin in an old enchanted chest...

"Armour of Diligence," the dwarf continued. "I've only seen such a set once, in a vault... err... never mind that now."

"Yes, I've seen it in a vault once as well," Wolf nodded. "And then it wasn't there any longer," he glared at the dwarf.

"Well, strange things do happen to valuable sets of armour," the dwarf smiled. "Anyway, boy, you best let the Warden through," he turned to the guard. "Insulting a Grey Warden is bad for Kirkwall and can be potentially fatal to you, as well."

The guard didn't respond but stepped aside, and Wolf entered Kirkwall.

"I am thrilled to make your acquaintance, Warden," the dwarf addressed him. "Name's Varric, a surface dwarf. My brother and I trade in rare artefacts..." He cut himself off and extended his hand.

"Wolf," Wolf shook his hand. "Thanks for helping me get in just now. Is the city really so full?"

"That it is, that it is," Varric nodded. "We've taken in so many refugees since the Blight... But you can imagine, no doubt. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well... I don't know... I'd rather not..." Wolf started cautiously.

"You'd rather not talk about it because it's a Grey Wardens business, right?" Varric grinned. "Looking for a certain healer, are you? He's in Darktown. And no, most people have no idea he's a Grey Warden. But I am not most people."

"What are you after, Varric?" Wolf squinted. "Surely, this information does not come for free."

"Well... See it as a gesture of good will," Varric smiled. "An advance, if you like. And perhaps we can help each other further."

"Spit it out." Wolf folded his arms, he wanted to know what he was getting into.

"We're planning an expedition into the Deep Roads, my brother and I," Varric finally admitted. "Right after a Blight is the best time to do it, there won't be much darkspawn yet. We need to... replenish our stock," he grinned. "We've got fighters and bodyguards, but what we don't have is a good map. Especially if it comes with someone who knows the area."

"I came here looking for someone, not looking to go on an expedition into the Deep Roads," Wolf shook his head. "Thanks, Varric, but I'm not interested."

"Ah, well, perhaps I should tell you more," Varric touched his arm. "It's not just trinkets that we're after... Rumour has it that there's a new form of lyrium down there, a hundred times as potent as the one we know. Can you imagine? If that is true... A small chipping of that would set us up with fortune for life - you, me, my brother, and everyone else who comes along!"

"It's tempting, to be sure," Wolf replied, yawning. "But not for me."

"Well... Don't discount it yet," Varric was undaunted. "Talk to your mage. Then find me at the Hanged Man."

...

Kirkwall was depressing, to say the least. A city that made its fortune through slave trade, it bore the scars of suffering on every corner. And even though slavery had been officially abolished, unofficially it was still all too common, and foreign traders still came to Kirkwall to "restock". Why would Anders come to this city, of all places? Anders, who hated confrontation and loved comfort, nice clothes and pretty women? It just didn't make sense.

"The healer is only seeing those in need," a stern looking woman barred entrance when Wolf decided to try a house with a lantern by the door. So, he was in the right place then. "You are not in need, so clear out," she added menacingly.

"And if I don't, you will see to it that I have a need, am I right?" Wolf smirked, removing a pair of daggers concealed in her belt.

"How dare you?!" The woman tried to snatch her daggers from him, but Wolf quickly tucked them into his own belt and grabbed her wrists.

"Let's not get violent, shall we?" He smiled, releasing her. "So, do I get to see the healer now?"

"We have guards inside," the woman snapped. "Try anything - anything! - and you will regret it!" She glared but stepped aside.

Wolf smirked and entered, not returning the daggers to her.

The space inside was poorly lit, like most houses in Kirkwall. Grey stone dust covered the walls and black coal dust covered the ceiling. That level of the city used to be a mine, and the buildings were no buildings but caverns cut into the rock by miners many years ago. Wolf followed the lanterns visible here and there and came to a room filled with people. Faint glow of healing magic illuminated a slab in the middle - Anders was treating a boy on the slab.

"The healer is busy and you are not in need!" A well-armed character blocked the way. "How did you get in? Did you..?" He started raising his voice, but an alarm or a fight was not in Wolf's interest. One punch on the temple sent the man into a corner. He wasn't dead, Wolf hoped.

Anders finished his spell. He was exhausted, reminding Wolf of the time when he was starving in the dungeons. "I wonder if he gets enough to eat down here..." Wolf thought. He pushed forward, people let him through, surprised.

"The healer needs a break!" Wolf announced loudly. "Come back later!"

"What..?!" Anders spun around, but had to hold onto a pillar so as not to fall. "You! Here..?"

"I thought you might need a hand," Wolf smiled amicably. "They are exploiting you, you know."

"They are not!" Anders responded hotly. "They've got nothing! They cannot afford a healer..!"

"But you are not Reverend Mother Theresa, my friend," Wolf shook his head. "You've got to eat, for one. Take a break - that's all I'm asking."

Anders shook his head, as if shaking off a dream.

"Eh... A break... Yes, I'm hungry... It's been a while..." He collapsed, and Wolf insisted that everyone should leave and not come back until he said so. Even the guards could see that the healer really needed a break.

...

"So, tell me what happened," Wolf took a long look at Anders when they were finally sitting down at dinner away from the treatment room. "I know you're a healer, but if you wanted to come here to heal, there was no need to run away... We would have let you, you know. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I... well... err... Oh I know!" Anders suddenly brightened up. "I brought a mage with me from the Tower, they were going to make him tranquil, so I had to save him. We came here because... err... well..." He hesitated, as if he was reciting a text and forgot what came next. "The point is," he continued after a pause, "the templars got him again. He's being held in the Chantry dungeons. Help me free him, and I'll tell you more."

"Do you intend to kill the templars?" Wolf squinted. "Or may be sneak in and release the mage? Alright, but what next? Where will you take him?"

Anders could not answer that. He would hide the mage in Darktown until he could figure out what to do. Time was of the essence - the Rite of Tranquility was being prepared with all haste.

"We have to go as soon as we can - tonight even!" Anders exclaimed hotly. "We may already be too late!"

Wolf shook his head but agreed. He didn't like it in the least, but didn't see a way out. Something was very wrong with Anders... he was changed, suddenly and sharply, people didn't change like that... unless...

"Come on!" Anders was getting impatient and Wolf brushed away his thoughts until later. They had a mage to save.

The city was quiet as the night had already fallen, but the Chantry never closed its doors. They entered.

"Do you know the way to the dungeons?" Wolf looked around.

"Through there," Anders pointed at a passage in the depths. "Past the candles and the templars..."

They walked unchallenged. The passage opened onto a smallish prayer area with more candles and a sturdy door, unguarded. A mage was kneeling in prayer.

"Karl!" Anders ran up to him. "I came as soon as I could... What are you doing out of the dungeons?"

Karl got up and looked at them, his expression lacked any emotion.

"Anders, was it?" He struggled to remember the name of the mage before him. "Hello. And who is your friend?"

"Oh no..! We are too late..." Anders was in shock. He approached Karl and touched his shoulder. "They've done it already..."

With Anders' touch, Karl's face lit up, first with joy, then with despair.

"You brought a piece of Fade with you!" He whispered. "Kill me! I do not want to live a life of a tranquil!"

Wolf watched, not getting involved. He shot a glance at the templars on duty, but they were too far away to hear. Anders pulled out his dagger and stabbed Karl through the heart.

"Goodbye, my friend..." He whispered.

...

Wolf and Anders got back to Darktown without incident. They did not speak until they were inside Anders' practice.

"He was my first," Anders turned to Wolf. "I had to free him."

"Your first what?" Wolf squinted.

"Well, you know..." Anders shrugged. "We grew up together... we were friends... and more..."

"Hmm... Anders I know prefers women," Wolf shook his head. "We drank enough mead together to know exactly who likes what. What did he mean by 'you brought a piece of Fade with you'?"

Anders didn't answer. He paced the room, he looked angry and annoyed. And suddenly Wolf recalled something that Justice said about demons: that only demons possessed an unwilling host.

"Justice," Wolf called to Anders and he stopped abruptly. "What have you become? Only demons possess unwilling hosts..."

Anders collapsed, unconscious. Wolf sat him up and poured a healing potion down his throat. Eventually he came to.

"I met Justice in the Tower of Magi," he said sounding like himself again. "When Kristoff was decapitated in battle, Justice could not remain in his body. He traveled the land but never found a way back to the Fade. Then he found the Tower... and all those mages. Karl was the first living mortal that he possessed. He did hope that mages would be able to send him back to the Fade, he possessed many, for a short time, always hoping to escape when they were dreaming. That didn't work out. He could not possess a body and enter the Fade at the same time."

"And now he is possessing you," Wolf sighed. "And Anders is lost in the process."

"I cannot control it..." Anders looked pleadingly at Wolf. "He can take over any moment... But he is changed, too. Vengeance is what he is now."

"I am Justice!" An angry voice shouted inside Anders, or rather that's how it seemed. "Your world has too much suffering, too much injustice, I cannot stand idly by and watch! Justice must be done!"

"And you are willing to sacrifice Anders for it!" Wolf exclaimed sharply. "If you are not a demon as you claim, you will not take over without notice and you will permit us to search for a way to separate you. You belong in the Fade! And I will see you return there or perish, but I will not allow you to turn my friend into an abomination!"

"I... you are right, mortal..." Justice seemed to agree. "I shall try... but I've seen so much injustice in your world that it corrupted me... My anger overwhelms me. You must not delay. There must be a way, a ritual, something!"

Justice released his grip on Anders, Wolf could see the change in posture, in mannerisms, in voice. Possession was terrible and he swore to himself to find a way to end it. Anders once again got himself into a tremendous mess.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The story that follows is loosely based on Dragon Age II. That game was the biggest disappointment for me, from design, to combat, to romance, to art. But the worst of all was the way they presented Anders. As someone on Reddit put it, "...meeting him in DA2 was like reading a friend's obituary. I never traveled with him except to get his quests done because it was like hanging out with the corpse of a good friend." I feel the same way. I did take him along quite a lot when I played the game (a single time, and never again!), but I decided very early on that Anders in DA2 was a completely different character with the same name. It also did not match the ending of Awakening in which my Anders vanished for a few months after giving that lecture at the Circle of Magi, but then returned to the Grey Wardens and stayed with them till the end of his days. There was never any mention of him getting possessed by Justice or becoming an anarchist or doing any of those crazy things that Anders in DA2 does without us being able to influence it (all scripted events).

This story is therefore the story of my Anders. He got possessed by Justice just like in DA2, and he got involved in some of the events, but not in the same role and not with the same purpose. Moreover, Wolf isn't Hawke, the protagonist of DA2; we'll meet Hawke along the way. Varric is still Varric, and things still went pretty pear shaped in Kirkwall, and I hear there was some anarchistic maniac who blew up the Chantry. It just wasn't Anders. Not this one, anyway.

To put things in perspective with the events in Tamriel, below are a few dates. Full chronology is found here.

3E387 (9:30 Dragon)

Wolf Asgarsen, an Agent of the Imperial Legion, was sent to Ferelden, on the continent of Thedas, to investigate a terrifying rise of undead known as the Blight. He was to join the Order of Grey Wardens there and help them defeat the Blight. His reports, delivered back to the Imperial Legion and the Emperor of Tamriel, would spare the worst of such an uprising for Tamriel, should it spill over from Thedas. Wolf was chosen because he was Dragonborn, although he'd never seen a dragon and never consumed a dragon soul. Yet it was believed that he stood the best chance to survive the Joining ritual and see this mission through. He was 39 years old. During his travels he met a young mage Anders whom he saved from a terrible fate. Anders was 22 years old when they met. (Dragon Age: Origins)

3E388 (9:31 Dragon)

The Blight in Ferelden was defeated, and Wolf sent his first report back to Tamriel. He did not return, however, because he felt that the trouble wasn't yet over and thus his mission was not yet complete. He was appointed Warden-Commander, the head of the Ferelden chapter of the Grey Wardens Order. But some believed that he didn't want to leave because he wanted to be around when Morrigan gave birth to his child. The child had a soul of an old god and Morrigan took it to another realm where she could better take care of such an unusual child. Wolf did not follow. (Dragon Age: Awakening and Witch Hunt)

3E389 (9:32 Dragon)

Emperor Uriel Septim VII was betrayed by his own Imperial Battlemage Jagar Tharn and sealed away in another realm. Jagar Tharn disguised himself as the Emperor and took his place, but he didn't fool everyone. The Blades felt that something was wrong, and Wolf Asgarsen was ordered to remain in Thedas for the time being, especially since the situation there was also volatile. Wolf continued sending regular reports back to Tamriel. (Elder Scrolls I: Arena, Dragon Age II)

3E398 (9:41 Dragon)

A huge magical explosion caused an enormous tear in the Veil above Thedas, thus allowing demons and spirits to invade the mortal realm. Wolf happened to be there and caught something... that put him right in the centre of a new war against a darkspawn lord planning to destroy the world. Wolf turned 50 that year. (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

3E405

Mysterious events started in High Rock and Hammerfell, involving spirits, gods, necromancers and undead, and eventually culminating in the Warp in the West in 3E417. It was speculated that these might have been attempts by the old gods of Thedas to invade Tamriel, but nobody could tell for sure. Some even claimed those were all the same gods anyway... Wolf was recalled to Tamriel, arriving in 3E405 or 3E406. He was appointed the Commander of the Second Legion stationed in Falkreath. (Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall)

3E410 (9:53 Dragon)

Thedas got in trouble again, but Wolf Asgarsen was already back in Tamriel. It was now Anders, a Grey Warden mage and Wolf's friend, who found himself in the centre of a tremendous mess and it was up to him to put everything back together. Anders was 45 years old. (Dragon Age: Veilguard)

3E413

Wolf Asgarsen and Lillian Delacour had a son. As Lillian was a Dark Brotherhood assassin, and Wolf was a high placed citizen of the Empire, their relationship was clandestine and they decided to send the boy away to the Northern Realms to be raised as a witcher of the School of the Wolf. He later became known as Geralt of Rivia, or Geralt the White Wolf. He was half-Breton, half-Nord, but his father's blood won over and Geralt was a Nord.

3E417

Lillian Delacour left the Brotherhood in early 3E417 after she executed the issuer of a contract on Wolf Asgarsen. She was pregnant with her second child.

Lena Wolf was born in Cyrodiil under the Apprentice on 17 Sun's Height 3E417. She was a Breton like her mother, but her father's Nord blood ran just under the surface.

3E421

Lillian Delacour, Lena's mother, died of swamp fever. Lena was 4 years old. She was adopted by their Argonian neighbour whom she saw as her grandmother.

3E427

Dagoth Ur rose in Morrowind, and Azura picked a mortal to act as her Nerevarine. The Red Mountain erupted some time later. (Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind)

3E433

The Oblivion Crisis broke out when Lena was 16 years old. Her adoptive grandmother died of old age. Lena joined the Mages Guild and went about closing the gates. (Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion)

Morning Star, 3E390 - Into the Deep Roads

"Are you the Grey Warden?" A man in mercenary armour stood before Anders. "I was told I'd find you here."

"I am a healer," Anders replied, not taking his eyes off the patient he was treating. "Do you have an ailment? Then queue up, I can't treat everyone at once."

"I have no ailment, I need to talk."

"Later." Anders still wasn't looking up.

"Now." The man said firmly.

"Then come with me," Wolf came out of an adjacent room. "If it's a Grey Warden you want..."

"Err... I was told he's the Grey Warden," the man looked around, confused.

"The Order of Grey Wardens has more than one member," Wolf smirked. "So unless you need healing, I'm your man."

"Umm... I suppose it makes no difference..." The man shot a glance at his companions and followed Wolf. "I was told you Grey Wardens have a map of Deep Roads."

"We do."

"I want it."

"Tough."

"What..?" The man didn't seem to comprehend the reply. "I mean... hand it over."

"No."

"Err... are you mad?" The man still looked confused. "I'll kill you if you resist..."

"And then you'll never have that map," Wolf smiled pleasantly. "For one, because I don't carry it in my pocket. For two, because you'll be dead."

Swords and daggers were drawn, staffs were charged, but each was waiting for the other side to attack.

"Why do you think I'd hand it over?" Wolf lowered his sword but didn't sheath it. "Do I look like an idiot to you?"

"Varric said you'd give it to us..." The man in mercenary armour straightened up, lowering his daggers. "Err... well... he said the mage would give it to us. He never mentioned another Grey Warden."

"If I know Varric, he didn't say any such thing," Wolf smirked. "What Varric must have said, is that you could potentially get that map from Anders if you asked nicely. But seeing how you did nothing of the sort, forget it."

"You know Varric?" The man sheathed his daggers and signalled his companions to stand down.

"Indeed I do, and I told him to stuff his red lyrium where the sun doesn't shine," Wolf shrugged. "But I see he sent you to try your hand at diplomacy, and that didn't go very well," he smiled.

"Umm... Can we start over?" The man gave Wolf a broad smile. "Name's Hawke. I'm not really a mercenary... Well, I spent a year working with them, true, but that was just... err... never mind that. This is my sister, Bethany," he jerked his head towards a mage standing next to him. "We... we really need that map."

"You want to go into the Deep Roads with Varric and his brother on a fool's quest for red lyrium," Wolf squinted. "Yes, we have scouts. That substance is evil and you'll do well to stay away from it."

"Varric says it is a hundred times more potent than regular lyrium," Hawke nodded. "And that it would set us up with fortune for the rest of our lives. We need money, see... A fortune, to be precise... Our estate..."

"There's no need to go into that in front of a stranger," Bethany interrupted her brother. "We need money, and that's enough."

"You won't be able to stop them finding it, whatever you do," Anders appeared in the doorway. "They'll find a way... We are not the only ones with a map. And even if they didn't have a map... Remember Branka?"

"How did you know?" Wolf shuddered. "You weren't with us when..."

"I can read," Anders pointed out.

"I see." Wolf looked at Anders and noticed him gently touching his wrist. "Well, may be you have a point," he turned to Hawke. "But I won't give you the map. Tell Varric I'll come to see him shortly."

...

"Red lyrium could be the key," Anders was saying at dinner. "If it is indeed as potent as the rumours claim, or even half as potent as that... It could be enough to open a proper portal to the Fade so that Justice could leave."

"Can you not open such a portal by other means?" Wolf looked up. "Is it not similar to the ritual that you wanted to perform to send someone into the Fade to fight the spirit possessing Connor?"

"It is exactly that ritual," Anders nodded. "Only this time I'd send Justice. The only snag is that if I am performing the ritual, he would need to be possessing someone else for the duration."

"That's the least of our worries, I think," Wolf shook his head. "You were going to use blood magic and take the life of Connor's mother for that... but then we brought lyrium and mages from the Circle... But it wasn't the same ritual, was it?"

"No," Anders said slowly. "Their ritual was safe. It was what they use for the graduation exam for the apprentices. It can send the spirit of one mage into the Fade - and it was enough to free Connor." He paused, staring at his food. "The blood magic ritual that I had in mind, could send anyone's spirit into the Fade... it didn't have to be a mage. Do you see how it's different?"

"Justice is not a mage," Wolf noted.

"Exactly," Anders nodded. "He is a bodyless spirit, but even in the Fade he cannot cast magic. That is why he could never leave when the host that he's possessing is dreaming. It is always the host's spirit that enters the Fade, leaving Justice in the body, and in the mortal realm."

"But then... We don't actually need red lyrium, do we?" Wolf sat up. "We just need a life. Justice can possess me for the duration, you perform the ritual and send him into the Fade."

"Last time I used someone else's blood for a ritual, I got infected with darkspawn taint," Anders shook his head. "And I only took a few drops of your blood... What would happen to me if I were to take everything a person had? I bet it would not be without side effects."

"We need to find another blood mage to do it then," Wolf shrugged.

"Or we find red lyrium," Anders looked straight at him. "If it is indeed as potent as they claim, it could replace the blood, and no one would have to die and I would not get infected with anything nasty."

"But what about the reports that it is evil?" Wolf squinted. "I didn't lie to Hawke about that."

"I read the reports," Anders nodded. "Nothing conclusive. The way I see it, I either kill someone and get exposed to something unknown through the blood magic ritual, or I use red lyrium and get exposed to something unknown through that. There's a risk either way..."

"...and with red lyrium no one needs to die," Wolf nodded, finishing his sentence. "It does seem to be the lesser evil..."

...

"We'll come with you to the Deep Roads," Wolf came to see Varric at the Hanged Man. "We want some red lyrium... not much. You can have the rest."

"Why so modest?" Varric squinted. "All profits will be divided evenly..."

"No, you misunderstand," Wolf shook his head. "We don't want profits. We want red lyrium."

"Ah..." Varric rubbed his chin. "Alright. I'm not asking any questions! Two Grey Wardens for the price of one, complete with a map of Deep Roads, that's a good deal! I'll send for you when we're ready to set off."

...

"I don't like these Grey Wardens, and I don't like that they are coming with us," Hawke was talking to Varric at the Hanged Man. "You said we could get their maps... but they are not giving them away."

"I didn't know there'd be a second Grey Warden," Varric shrugged. "Since the defeat of the Blight, they've been keeping to themselves... well... they've been always keeping to themselves... I don't know who this Wolf character is, but he is highly placed, just look at his armour."

"Yeah, quite a stark difference from Anders," Hawke smirked. "That one is always wearing the same robes..."

"The same ancient Tevinter robes," Varric pointed out with emphasis. "They are not just any ol' mages robes, either. You don't buy that in a shop. I don't even know where they got that. I've never seen robes like that!"

"Huh?" Hawke squinted in disbelief. "They are robes..." he shrugged. "Shabby, at that."

"You just don't know a real thing from a fake, do you?" Varric shook his head. "Well, never mind. I could poke around and try to find out more about them... Or we could just bring them along, maps and all. It's not like we have much choice. Besides, there's still bound to be darkspawn in the Deep Roads, and Grey Wardens are the best remedy against darkspawn."

Eventually Hawke had to agree that delaying the expedition for the sake of background checks on the Grey Wardens wasn't worth it. They gathered their party, picked the most promising entrance to the Deep Roads, and set off.

...

"If there's anything you need - anything! - just tell me," Bodahn Feddic, a dwarven merchant, gave Wolf a broad smile when the newly assembled party of explorers made their first camp in a cave in the Deep Roads. "Good to have you along, Warden," he said loudly, then added in a hushed voice: "Commander," he grinned. "Oh, I never told them I've been following you around all the while during the Blight," he winked. "And as I understand it, you never told them who you were either."

"It didn't appear necessary," Wolf shrugged. "Good to see you, Bodahn. Compared to what we've been through, this should be a walk in a park."

"Do you have a particular interest in this expedition?" Bodahn squinted. "Well, that is to say, I heard that you do."

"Then you know what we're after," Wolf nodded.

"Be careful, Commander," Bodahn lowered his voice. "Sandal doesn't like red lyrium, he stays away from it. It doesn't bode well."

Wolf nodded, they exchanged a few more pleasantries, then Bodahn got busy with the other members of the expedition and Wolf never got the chance to talk to Sandal about it.

Sandal was Bodahn's son and an exceptionally gifted enchanter. He could fold lyrium better than anyone, but in other areas of life Sandal was completely dependent on his father. He was a "savant", lyrium and enchantments were the only things he noticed or talked about, when he talked at all.

...

At first the expedition moved at pace as Deep Roads were almost clear of darkspawn. Of course, there were always other dangers there, such as giant poisonous spiders, deepstalkers, drakes and other wildlife, but the guards didn't have much trouble clearing the way. The section that they were trying to reach, was a week to ten days into the depths. It was an ancient dwarven settlement, long abandoned and never properly excavated because for reasons unknown it always had a tremendous amount of darkspawn. It was rumoured to contain red lyrium as well as riches untold, all preserved in ancient untouched vaults...

"Do we even know for sure what's in that section?" One of the members of the expedition asked during supper. "Darkspawn is getting thicker the further in we go, and I have yet to see anything of value. Not a speck of red lyrium either... not even of the regular blue lyrium... Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" He glared at Varric's older brother Bartrand who organised the expedition in the first place.

"There's nothing here yet because we're not there yet!" Bartrand cut him off. "Yeah, I'm sure. No one's been down there in centuries... Not since the last Blight, or may be even the Blight before that. There's gold there for sure."

They pushed on for a few more days, but found nothing besides darkspawn.

"Grey Wardens, I'll have to ask you to go first," Bartrand addressed Wolf and Anders after another heavy fight with darkspawn. "Darkspawn is your responsibility."

"I don't remember agreeing to that," Wolf smirked. "What did you expect? You are going into the depths of Deep Roads. Of course there will be darkspawn!"

"But this is getting dangerous," Bartrand objected. "It's like in the Dead Trenches..."

The look of disbelief on Wolf's face must have spoken volumes.

"You've never been to the Deep Roads before," Wolf said derisively. "Dead Trenches! If only the Legion of the Dead could hear you now!"

"Well, there's no need to invoke that name!" Bartrand backed off. "Alright, alright! Take someone with you... anyone... just go first, please?"

The main thoroughfare that ancient dwarves had built to connect the different settlements, was only partially intact. Large cave-ins regularly blocked the way and alternative routes through tunnels and caves had to be found. Darkspawn was growing stronger, and fights were no longer won every time. Mercenary guards were working hard for their money, with several men killed by darkspawn already. Several more became infected with darkspawn taint that promised a painful and protracted death.

"This is a death trap, Bartrand," expedition members were getting nervous. "There better be incredible riches inside!"

"There will be!" Bartrand was unwavering.

Then they had their first glimpse of red lyrium. It was glowing with a dim but steady light, very similar to regular lyrium, except for the colour. Crystals were growing under the ceiling but were much too high to reach.

"See? Red lyrium!" Bartrand exclaimed in jubilation. "It's here! Formations are just beggining, this must be the start of the vein. Yes, I know we can't reach it here... Which is why we must press ahead!"

The sight of red lyrium veins lifted the general mood, with more and more volunteers coming forward to join the Grey Wardens ahead of the main group - people were eager to be the first to collect what chippings of red lyrium they could find, as the main vein was still too high and out of their reach. Wolf objected that darkspawn numbers were still growing, now combined with drakes and venomous spiders, and that only trained soldiers could survive such battles... but greed and misplaced self-assurance overruled his words. More and more people were falling in battle.

"That's why you brought so many mercenaries, isn't it, Bartrand?" Varric said quietly when they stood away from the main group. "Cheap mercenaries too, poorly armed and armoured without any fighting skills... You're just using them to clear the way."

"No one was forcing them to come along!" Bartrand cut him off. "We've had crowds upon crowds applying to join us, you know that!" He glared at Varric. "But look at it this way: they have to be alive to collect their pay. And since they ain't..." He grinned.

Varric shook his head and scoffed.

Finally they came to a large chamber that looked like a vault. It had locked doors along the walls with golems placed between them. In the middle of the room there was a pedestal with an idol on it; the idol was made of solid red lyrium.

"Wow! Look at that!" Bartrand looked around and picked up the idol. "That's what I mean! And this is just the first vault! There's more of the same further in, I'm sure! Why don't you go ahead while we start working on these locks?" He looked at Varric, Hawke, Wolf and Anders. "Give a shout when you find another hall like this!"

Wolf peered through the door on the other end of the hall. It opened onto a long corridor with another massive doorway visible at the end. The walls of the corridor were covered in red lyrium crystals - the vein was getting thicker. Unfortunately, those crystals were still too high to reach.

"There must be some chippings on the ground though," Hawke too was looking at the veins. "We should go see." He stepped through the doorway into the corridor.

"I sense darkspawn," Wolf said quietly to Anders, and Anders nodded. Hawke was already half way the corridor, still walking unchallenged. "But why are they not attacking?"

"I don't like it," Anders agreed, stepping through the doorway after Hawke.

"I suppose we should go see what's in that hall," Varric pointed down the corridor. It seems quiet." He too took a few steps in.

Finally Wolf followed as well. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, Bartrand slammed the heavy door shut behind him.

"Hey, Bartrand!!!" Varric bolted, but it was too late. The massive door could just as well been a wall of solid rock. "You bastard!!!"

He turned around. A horde of darkspawn was rushing at them.

Morning Star, 3E390 - Red lyrium

"That bastard Bartrand locked us out!" Varric was cursing profusely. "Go see what's up ahead!" He mocked Bartrand's voice. "He wants all that gold for himself, that son of a..!"

"Stop cursing and focus!" Wolf barked at him. "You can curse later! Now we need your crossbow!!"

They were backed into a dead end corridor with a horde of darkspawn coming at them. Wolf took the lead slicing through the weaker genlocks with his blue meteorite sword. Hawke flanked the heavier hurlocks stabbing them where it hurt most. Anders did his best to paralyse, freeze, electrocute or burn whichever darkspawn was getting near. And last but not least, Varric was showering them with bolts from his crossbow from the rear. And with all of that they were losing as there was simply no end to that horde.

"The emissary," Wolf pointed out a darkspawn mage further up. "He's calling in more troops! Cover me!!"

He dashed forward, leaving Hawke frozen for a moment - he wasn't used to taking orders. Wolf ran up to the emissary and planted his sword into the ground with all force dispelling the emissary's magic and draining his mana. He rammed the emissary with his shield, throwing him on the ground, then rained blows with his sword. The emissary was soon defeated but such a focused assault left Wolf open to flanking attacks by other darkspawn. He was surrounded and outnumbered ten to one.

"At least if I die now, I go down fighting," he thought. "Sovngarde awaits!"

He cut down the front row of darkspawn, but more were coming. He saw Hawke slicing through genlocks and hurlocks alike, but another emissary further ahead was still calling for reinforcements. "We won't survive this..." Wolf thought. "So... since I am already dead..." Throwing caution to the wind, he cut his wrists. "Su Grah Dun!" He shouted and blood erupted from his veins, knocking out the nearest darkspawn and boosting Wolf's strength and speed of movement. He tore through the horde hurrying to get to the emissary and kill him before dying himself - blood was gushing from his wrist, he didn't expect to survive, but if he could only get that emissary, then perhaps the others stood a better chance.

...

Wolf stood in a grand hall like one of those built by dwarves. "For such short people, they really like their buildings tall," Morrigan's voice sounded in his head, it was one of the first impressions they had when they entered Orzammar seeking support from the Dwarven Kingdom against the Blight. Was he back in Orzammar? No, the hall looked different, although it was undoubtedly dwarven. He walked around, he appeared to be alone. Huge statues stood along the walls, but apart from that, the hall was empty. "What now?" Wolf wondered, not seeing any doors. The hall seemed to stretch indefinitely in either direction. Wolf shook his head and started walking.

"This is what happens to those who use blood magic," he heard Wynne's voice behind him. "I told you to stay away from it, not to drink Avernus' mixture and to kill him when you had the chance... but you always knew better, boy."

He spun around. Wynne was looking at him, her eyes glowing.

"Wynne does not speak in this way," Wolf squinted. "Even though she did tell me most of those things, but not like that. You are not Wynne."

"I am the spirit that is Wynne," the being replied. "You are in my domain."

"This is the Fade, yes, I figured as much," Wolf nodded. "So, what do you want of me, spirit?"

"I can send you back to the mortal world but you must do as I ask," the glow around Wynne's form intensified as the spirit spoke. Her form now looked like a ghost. "You must kill Anders, and Justice will die with him."

"You want me to kill your fellow spirit?" Wolf raised an eyebrow. "But why? Justice is a benevolent spirit."

"He is not, has never been!" The spirit exclaimed, glowing brighter. "He wants war and destruction!"

"Are you saying he is a demon?"

"A demon..? Well, no, that's... No, that's different." The glow around the shape of Wynne subsided and she looked like a ghost again.

"Then explain to me the difference between spirits and demons," Wolf asked. "I am no mage, I never studied such things in school..."

"Mortal schools! Bah!" The spirit scoffed. "Mortals have no understanding of the Fade! There is no difference between a spirit and a demon... They are all spirits. Demons are spirits that were corrupted by mortal desires... or spirits that were summoned into the mortal realm against their will. Either way, it is mortals who turn spirits into demons!"

"Oh my," Wolf smirked. "And here I thought that demons were simply evil spirits..."

"Well yes, that's what I said," the spirit sounded puzzled. "Coming in contact with mortals is what corrupts a spirit and makes it evil."

"Justice had been in the mortal world for some time now," Wolf pointed out. "Then according to your argument he must have long turned into a demon."

"Err... is that what I said?" The spirit seemed unsure. "Well then, may be he is a demon! The more reason to slay him!"

"By killing Anders? No." Wolf shook his head.

"Then you will perish, mortal."

"I am dead already."

That conversation was going nowhere, so Wolf turned away from the spirit and resumed walking. He didn't know if there was any point in that, he just wanted to be rid of the annoying spirit.

"You must kill Faith while she's here! Justice must be done!" A booming voice spoke forcefully behind him. Wolf stopped and turned around.

"Justice, I presume?" He said calmly. "Here to talk about the spirit inhabiting Wynne?"

"She is evil! She became a demon and is tormenting the mortal world!" Justice nodded and started glowing.

"Interesting. She was just saying the same thing about you."

"Faith is what drives numerous people to kill others of their kind! It fuels wars and hatred! Faith must be killed! She must pay for all the suffering she caused!"

"And what about all those other people who see their suffering alleviated through Faith?" Wolf squinted. "No, as annoying as Wynne can be, I won't kill her."

"Anders and countless other mages are all victims of Faith," Justice spoke in an unexpectedly calm manner. "Faith is what makes people fearful of magic, Faith is what makes them imprison and persecute their own. Faith is what makes templars into fanatical mage hunters. Faith must pay for her crimes."

"Anders is changed. Is it your doing?" Wolf faced Justice.

"Anders is too soft."

"Anders is Anders," Wolf shrugged. "There's nothing soft about him when he's facing darkspawn."

"He has a pet cat," Justice looked angry. "He imprisoned that animal the same way as your Chantry imprisons mages!"

"No." Wolf shook his head. "No, it is not the same. Are you trying to turn me against him? It won't work, I know him better than you do."

"You must kill Faith and leave Anders to me," Justice repeated. "Then I shall return you into your own body in the mortal realm."

"No," Wolf said firmly. "I won't fight your war."

He turned away from Justice and resumed walking. "Who's next?" He wondered.

"Hello, my friend," Morrigan stood before him. "I am so happy to see you!" She put her arms around him and kissed him. "Come! Our child is doing fine, he's sleeping now, but he will be glad to meet his father! Come, my love - this way!"

"Morrigan!" Wolf froze. He wanted to believe the vision... Did she just say she loved him? "Morrigan always said I would not meet my son. She had her reasons. I don't believe you." He brushed past her and kept walking.

The dwarven hall was stretching into infinity. There was no end to the giant statues along the walls, they were all the same. Wolf had been walking for a while, and no further spirits came to bother him. He stopped and walked in the opposite direction, but it made no difference. The hall was empty with only distant fog visible at either end.

"How do I get to Sovngarde?" He wondered. "The passage must be here somewhere... I am a Nord, that's where Nords go when they die... Isn't it? I fell in battle, surely I qualify..." He walked and walked, he got tired and sat down, he even took a nap, but when he woke up, he was still in the same hall, among the same dwarven statues. "What kind of a purgatory is this?" He wondered. "Are there more tests? Were those spirits not tests, perhaps? Faith and Justice, the two spirits I knew in the mortal realm... But what about the third one? I thought it was a Desire Demon, but what if... But no, real Morrigan would not do that... Would she?"

He pulled out the amulet that Morrigan left for him when she stepped through an eluvian taking their child into another realm. "Take life from the dead", said the inscription. It was one of the spells from the Spirit School, Morrigan used it in battle, as did many other mages. Wolf always thought that the amulet was simply enchanted with that spell, restoring his health slightly during a fight. More powerful amulets were abundant, yet he kept Morrigan's, he clipped it onto the same chain that held his Grey Warden amulet, a mere trinket compared to wonders of enchantment that he came across later. But to him, the sentimental value outweighed it all. "The Warden's Oath," he read the inscription on the other amulet. It was a locket said to contain a little of the mixture that he drank during the Joining. He never opened that locket. It had an engraving of a griffon on the lid with another inscription: "In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice." The Grey Wardens motto.

"Morrigan's amulet is also a locket," Wolf suddenly realised, examining it closer. He pressed the spring and the lid sprung open. Thick, sweet odour hit his nostrils, knocking him out.

...

"Good grief, Wolf! I was about to go after you!"

Wolf opened his eyes. Anders was kneeling over him holding a vial under his nose, thick, sweet odour still filling his breath.

"Eh... What is this stuff?" Wolf sat up. He pulled on the chain around his neck and saw both amulets still on it.

"Nightshade extract," Anders shrugged. "The same as in your amulet. That's what gave me the idea."

"What happened?" Wolf looked at the piles of darkspawn bodies covering the floor in the dwarven hall.

"You got the last emissary," Anders was putting away his vials. "We finished the rest of the darkspawn. Then spent half an hour looking for your corpse among theirs..." He sighed. "Well. May be not half an hour... But long enough. What were you thinking?!" He exclaimed.

"I was thinking that since I was already dead, I might as well take as many of them with me as I could," Wolf shrugged. "I'm glad I got that emissary though."

"This isn't the Legion of the Dead, you know," Anders looked at him with reproach.

"Legion of the Dead?" Hawke looked up. "That's just a fairy tale, right? It got Bartrand all worked up..."

"That isn't just a fairy tale..." Varric joined in.

"It's a dwarven legion similar to the Grey Wardens," Wolf explained. "Only with more drama. When you join, they hold a funeral for you so that your family might say goodbye. You are dead to the world. You then go into the Deep Roads to fight darkspawn and never come out. Eventually you fall in battle."

"Charming," Hawke shuddered.

"Some do come out," Varric disagreed.

"Aha," Wolf shot him a glance. "And some try to quit Grey Wardens," he smirked and Anders blushed. "We had a recruit from the Legion of the Dead. She failed to die and had nowhere to go. Of course we accepted her request to join us. But once that post-Blight incident was over with and she still failed to die, she returned to the Deep Roads and to the Legion. They take an oath and once she had the opportunity, she went back."

"We should try to get out of here," Varric changed the topic. "This corridor goes further into the depths, I know... but do we have a choice?"

"Onwards, then," Hawke got up.

Hawke and Varric took the lead this time, with Anders and Wolf following a few paces behind. Wolf was alive, but not fit enough to take the lead.

"Something happened in the Fade," Anders said quietly. "Where is Justice?"

"Probably battling Faith," Wolf shrugged. "Is he really gone?"

"We'll have to see... May be not completely," Anders sounded uncertain.

"How were you going to follow me?" Wolf noticed a red crystal sticking out of Anders' satchel. "Is that... red lyrium?"

"I found a chipping, yes," he nodded. "It's powerful... may be not ten times as the rumours say... but more powerful than normal, and... different, somehow. I put an arcane shield around this piece, I don't like it."

"Sandal doesn't like it either," Wolf remembered Bodahn's son. "But I never got a chance to ask why..."

"Well, if nightshade extract hadn't worked, I was going to use it to enter the Fade," Anders said. "And yes, I handled it briefly... before setting up that shield. Justice disappeared during that time."

"Justice demanded that I kill Faith," Wolf said in a near whisper. "Remember Wynne? That's the spirit within her."

"She too?!" Anders was surprised. "I never knew... Wynne, of all people!"

"It happened during that blood mage rebellion in the Tower," Wolf nodded. "She died; the spirit revived her. Without that spirit, she'd die again."

"Riiiight," Anders nodded. "Makes sense... Have you met that spirit in the Fade as well? Why did you say that Justice was after it?"

"He was and I have," Wolf confirmed. "Faith wanted me to kill Justice by killing you..."

"I don't understand," Anders sounded troubled. "They are supposed to be good, pure spirits, both of them. Not calling for death and destruction... What happened, I wonder?"

"Toss that aside, and never touch another piece!" Wolf grabbed the red lyrium chipping from Anders' satchel and flung it as far as he could. "That thing is evil. I bet that's what corrupted the spirits, and not a mere contact with mortals as Faith was trying to make me believe."

"She what..? But I should not be surprised, I suppose," Anders nodded. "So. First Bartrand, and now the spirits... This is powerful stuff."

"And Bartrand got that red lyrium idol and chippings too, no doubt. He's taking it all to the surface..."

"We must find a way out. In war, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice. There's nothing there about getting lost in the Deep Roads. Come on!"