I am Lena Wolf, Lena's life as it happens Options

[Renee]

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

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

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

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

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

Bookmark

[Lena Wolf]

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

Whoa, she's in Hammerfell?? blink.gif You got Hammerfell in your gameworld??

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

[Lena Wolf]

Hearthfire, 4E204 - Brother

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

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

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

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

"Sounds mind boggling," Lamond shivered.

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

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

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

"But I didn't bring him back."

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

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

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

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

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

"Ugh..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But the magic?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, it's not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Jul 30 2024, 03:19 PM

[Renee]

Lena was born in 3E417, Geralt was born in 3E413, their mother died in 3E421, and their father "quit" the Legion soon afterwards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Lena Wolf]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Renee]

I see. Thanks for answers.

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

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

[Lena Wolf]

Chapter 9

The Call of the Black City

Morning Star, 3E387 - Come in, Agent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah!"

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

"I see."

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

"Understood."

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

The Agent straightened his already straight back and answered evenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[macole]

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

[Lena Wolf]

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

[Lena Wolf]

Sun's Dawn, 3E387 - Ostagar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, you don't!!!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Umm..."

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

Everyone agreed and prepared to enter the Korcari Wilds proper.

[Acadian]

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

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

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

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

[Lena Wolf]

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

[Lena Wolf]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Acadian]

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

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

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

[Lena Wolf]

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

[Lena Wolf]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Err..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Acadian]

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

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

Now to try and recruit some serious numbers.

[Lena Wolf]

Sun’s Dawn, 3E387 – The evil within

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alistair was taken aback, but stopped blushing and fidgeting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

"But why did he poison the Arl?"

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

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

She nodded and started crying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Lena Wolf]

Sun’s Dawn, 3E387 – A maleficar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That she's what?"

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

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

Next he went to talk to Alistair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Lena Wolf]

Sun's Dawn, 3E387 - Red mist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alistair paled, that blow was below the belt.

"How dare you..." He exhaled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But turn to blood magic?" Wynn frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

"What didn't happen?"

"Loghain didn't send his troops?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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