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.

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Sep 12 2024, 08:17 PM

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?

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Sep 15 2024, 08:06 PM

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.




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

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Oct 3 2024, 05:34 PM

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.