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

[Lena Wolf]

Rain's Hand, 3E387 - Dragon blood

The Urn of Sacred Ashes was being protected by another guardian. This one was a spirit of one of the original guardians that collected the Prophet's ashes and carried the urn to a remote location in the Frostback Mountains.

"So, if you are the real guardian, then who are the people we met outside of this temple?" Wolf asked, even though he thought he already knew the answer.

"They are the descendants of the other original guardians," the spirit replied. "The others lost their faith over the centuries and their spirits have vanished. I am the only one that remains."

"They claim that the dragon is in fact the Prophet in a new form," Wolf asked another question. "Is it true? Or is the dragon just a dragon?"

"The Prophet is dead, she returned to the Maker," the guardian answered with sadness. "The dragon is undoubtedly a fearsome creature, but it is not the Prophet. The only thing that remains of the Prophet are her ashes."

"I need some of that to cure a sick man," Wolf decided to get down to business. "How can I get it?"

"You will have to pass the tests," the guardian opened the door behind him. "Through here. If you survive, you will be allowed to take a pinch of ashes from the urn. This is all you need to cure that sick person."

"If I survive..?" Wolf didn't like the sound of that.

"Failure will result in death, yes," the guardian nodded. "So think well whether you want to proceed."

"I think I like this even less than drinking dragon blood," Wolf turned to his companions. "Now it becomes clear why the others didn't want to attempt it. Tests? What kind of tests will these be, I wonder?"

"Tests of your faith, no doubt," Morrigan shrugged. "But you are not from here, and if I may say so... you have no faith in this Prophet. Perhaps the wise thing to do would be to turn back."

"I have faith!" Alistair stepped forward. "I can pass the tests! For all of us!"

"I don't think it works that way," Wolf shook his head. "I think each of us will have to pass some test or other... So, what do you say? Are you with me? I am going in."

"Let's do it," Zevran checked his sword and dagger. "I think there will be fighting involved."

"Well, it's just another spirit," Morrigan straightened her back. "Let's see what awaits us."

Alistair didn't have to say anything, they already knew that he had faith.

The first test came immediately when they turned to speak with the guardian. He knew their past, their thoughts and their secret regrets... He brought it up, for each of them, individually, hitting the spot that hurt most. Alistair was practically reduced to tears, Zevran grew very somber as well, Morrigan became defensive and plainly refused to answer the question... But with Wolf the guardian didn't have much to say.

"You do not hail from this land," he fixed his gaze on Wolf. "I cannot see far enough in your memories... You are a warrior... yes... but there's more... Dragon kin, is it? Here to fight the Archdemon... nothing wrong with that, in itself... yes..." The guardian paused, trying to find something to put to Wolf, no doubt. "Oh, but your test is simple: do you intend to pour that dragon blood into the ashes? Yes, I know you received some. Do you want to become a dragon yourself?"

"That would not make me into a dragon, spirit," Wolf shook his head. "You are fishing. You know I am still undecided. Stand aside. We'll go in and see what comes to pass."

The spirit vanished.

"What was the purpose of that test?" Zevran looked around, but saw no one ready to attack.

"To break our will," Wolf decided. "Let's proceed."

The tests that followed were all designed to get them killed. There were tests of logic and wits as well as of mental resistance. The hardest test indeed involved fighting - it was a battle against their perfect selves. They withdrew many times and restarted it over and over, losing the battle again and again. Wolf always made sure to exit early, before they were actually killed.

"These versions of ourselves are stronger, faster and more powerful than we are," Morrigan scoffed. "I wish I could turn into a swarm of stinging insects like the other Morrigan!"

"If I was as good as that Zevran, I would not have failed in my contract," Zevran sighed. "I just don't know how he does it."

"The test is a cheat," Wolf agreed. "Which means we must cheat as well. It's all in our heads. Our doubles possess the abilities that we only wish to possess... The way to get through it is to stop wishing. We must accept ourselves the way we are."

"That's easier said than done..." Alistair was staring at something on the ground.

"And yet we must try," Wolf insisted. "Otherwise we shall either die here or will have to return empty-handed."

They each focused on themselves, and for a few minutes no one spoke. Then, somehow, each of them changed. All fidgeting stopped, uncertain looks disappeared. They were as ready as they would ever be.

When they stepped into the test hall, invisible copies of themselves attacked, just like before. Yet this battle was decidedly different - this time they were evenly matched. It wasn't easy, but they prevailed.

"Aha, no more swarming insects this time!" Morrigan was triumphant. "I never wanted that spell anyway, splitting myself up into a hundred tiny bits doesn't seem all that appealing after all!"

"I had to accept that my templar training remained incomplete," Alistair said quietly. "I had less brainwashing, but I equally had less battle training... some of those moves are beyond me. But on the upside, I get to work with mages, not just hunt them down..."

"I was never a good archer," Zevran sighed. "And now my double wasn't either."

They walked in silence for a little while.

"What did you have to give up, Wolf?" Zevran asked quietly. "You never said..."

"I cannot breathe fire or petrify my enemies with my voice," Wolf replied. "The way dragons do. I can speak the words... but they are just words, coming from me. Dragon kin is not the same as a dragon."

They came to what looked like the final hall. There was a staircase at the far end of it with a statue of the Prophet on the top platform.

"The urn must be by that statue," Morrigan pointed out. "This is the first and only statue of the Prophet that we've come across in this temple."

"Alright," Wolf agreed. "But what is the final test? I'm sure there is one, even if I don't see any obstacles in the hall..."

And then, just as he spoke, flames shot up from the floor, making them back off.

"Ugh... how are we supposed to get through that?" They looked at each other, only now noticing several charred corpses on the ground.

"Well, let's see." Wolf approached a stone pedestal which he first mistook for a broken off column. "Something is written here..."

"Cast off your worldly possessions and be cleansed in the Prophet's flames", Alistair read the faded carving. "Strip off and be roasted. No one wants to eat your molten armour."

"Harr, harr, very funny," Wolf snapped. "You do it. You're the one who has faith."

"I think Morrigan should do it, since it involves stripping off," Zevran grinned.

Morrigan didn't say anything but came to read the tablet for herself.

"I bet each of us has to do it," she decided. "The only way out of this temple is past the flames."

They sighed, stripped and stepped into the flames, fully expecting to be roasted. Yet nothing of the kind has happened. Instead, the flames subsided and the spirit guardian came out to congratulate them on passing all of their tests.

"You may now approach the urn and take a pinch of the Prophet's ashes for your sick man," he said.

It was time to make up his mind. Wolf stepped onto the platform and opened the urn. It was filled with grey dust, and he took a pinch of it for Arl Eamon. He didn't feel any magic in it and hoped that it wasn't just talk. He closed the urn and stepped away. His companions watched him, wondering what he would do with the dragon blood. No one spoke.

Wolf walked around the hall. He found several more charred corpses and several locked chests. What was that place? It was filled with magic, but if the Maker was really watching them, why were they not struck down? How did they even manage to pass the tests? Neither of them was a model citizen, far from it... and only Alistair really had faith.

The vial of dragon blood in his pocket was getting warm. Was it sensing the presence of the urn in the room? Was it responding to the magic? Perhaps there was magic in the urn after all... And did it really matter? Wolf took the vial out of the pocket and held it in his hand. It did feel warm, and he felt warmth in his hand where it was touching the vial.

"The blood in the vial is reacting to your own," Morrigan looked over his shoulder, noticing it too. "Dragonborn... Mother said it a few times, but what does it mean, exactly? You are not a dragon."

"No, not a dragon," Wolf shook his head. "It's an old Nord thing, I thought... but may be it is more universal than that, if your mother knew about it. Some people are said to be born with dragon blood in their veins... may be not entirely dragon blood, but mixed with it or related to it somehow... and I am one of those people."

"And then you drank darkspawn blood to become a Grey Warden, but in fact you were one already to begin with," Morrigan smiled with understanding. "Which is why you survived, of course. Oh yes, I know what it entails... You didn't kill Flemeth, did you?" She suddenly asked. "You never said you would, and you never said you did... You just said I was free."

"I didn't kill her, no," Wolf returned her gaze. "She promised to release you, she has other ways. Can you feel it?"

"Yes, I can," Morrigan nodded. "She did release me. Although this robe... did she tell you? It dampens my willpower a little. 'Keeps it in check' is how she would put it, no doubt."

"Yes, she told me," Wolf smiled. "I thought you'd notice. You still decided to wear it, even though it 'keeps you in check', if there ever was such a thing..."

Morrigan took Wolf's hand in hers and closed it around the vial with dragon blood. They stood in silence for a few minutes, their eyes locked.

"You have some dragon blood right here," Morrigan said softly. "You could just drink it..."

"...instead of tipping it into the urn," Wolf smiled. "I was just thinking that."

He uncorked the vial and drank from it. He collapsed to the floor but had no nightmares like during the Joining. He did not see the Archdemon. "This was not the Archdemon's blood," he reflected. But did he feel any different than before? Perhaps... He saw an aura around the corpses on the ground, and realised that he could draw life energy from it. Did he become a necromancer? But he was no mage... it was all so very strange...

"That knocked you out better than Orzammar Mead," Zevran helped him up. "And the Dwarves know their liquors. But you seem alright otherwise."

"You're making drinking blood into a habit," Alistair shook his head. "At least I am glad you didn't tip it into the urn."

"Nah, the urn is too important to too many people," Wolf smiled. "And since I had some dragon blood in my hand, I didn't see a point in destroying the ashes so that I could drink dragon blood from a cup rather than from a vial..." he shrugged. "Come on, let's go. We have the dragon guardians to fight outside, no doubt."

...

"You tried to conceal your deed, but you cannot conceal something like that!" Furious Wynn met them at the camp when they got there. "You destroyed the Urn of Sacred Ashes! You're worse than darkspawn! I regret to ever fighting for your cause! Darkspawn take you! I am leaving!" She stood there fuming, but didn't actually leave.

"The Urn of Sacred Ashes is still there, I did nothing to it," Wolf shrugged. "But if you wish to leave, feel free. 'My' cause is only to defend this land from the Blight, which will swallow all, yourself included. I would have said it was nice knowing you, but I guess it wasn't."

"But I can sense dragon blood on you!!!" Wynn wasn't giving up. "That is only possible if you gave in to those false guardians and poured the vial into the urn so that they would give you some dragon blood to drink! Which they themselves drink as well!"

"Interesting," Wolf said coldly. "You weren't there. Just how exactly do you know all this? Brother Genitivi hasn't published his research yet, we found him there half dead. So, let's hear it, Wynn: what are you hiding?"

"I... Well... If the Urn is still intact... then perhaps I was mistaken..." Wynn said softly, clearly confused. "But the dragon blood? Where did you get it?"

"I drank from the vial that they gave me to pour into the ashes," Wolf shrugged. "The urn holds no meaning to me, but it does have meaning to a lot of people. Destroying it would have been counter-productive for one who is trying to build an army," he smiled. "I am not that daft. But you will need to tell me what you are hiding. I do not trust you, Wynn."

"I see..." Wynn hesitated. "You will know it in time... I am not a threat to you, Warden, I promise. I joined you as a healer, and I that is what I shall do. Grant an old woman some leeway, will you?" She smiled.

"The old woman card doesn't work on me," Wolf shook his head. "I've seen you fight. You may have grey in your hair, but there's no weakness in your step. Stay if you must, but I won't forget this."

They looked each other in the eye, each remembering how a few days ago Wynn said the same thing to Wolf when he refused to judge Avernus for summoning demons three hundred years ago.

[macole]

With a little thought, Wolf passes the final test. Would it have been an instant fail had he tipped the vial into the ashes?

[Lena Wolf]

With a little thought, Wolf passes the final test. Would it have been an instant fail had he tipped the vial into the ashes?

Hmm... I suppose it depends what you consider a fail. The game would not end, no, it is a valid choice. However, it does have serious consequences. Wolf and I both did not think it was worth while destroying the urn, whether one believes in it or not. It's like he said - it is important to many people.

I did twist the story a little, this is not quite how it goes in the game, but close. I used an exploit... I'm playing it on Xbox 360, so no mods, but there are ways to get what you want in the base game. That is, there is a way to simulate drinking dragon blood from a vial even if it wasn't supposed to be possible.

[Lena Wolf]

Rain's Hand, 3E387 - Miracles

Now that our party had the sacred ashes for Arl Eamon, they went straight to Redcliffe Castle to see if the ashes would have any effect. The Arl was still lying on his bed unconscious, his condition unchanged.

"How are you keeping him alive?" Wolf asked Teagan.

"We have a mage from the Circle of Magi to assist," Teagan led Wolf to the Arl's chamber. "He says it was never necessary to have a demon for this..."

"As I always said," Morrigan pointed out. "The only reason the demon got a foothold here was that the boy was too young and inexperienced..."

"Yes, yes, it wasn't his fault," Teagan cut her off. "The boy is blameless in this..."

"Well, actually, when I was his age..." Morrigan started.

"Silence, apostate!" Teagan flew into a rage. "It is because of the likes of you that... Ouch!!!"

"Stop it, both of you!!!" Wolf bellowed. "We did not go through all the trouble of finding that urn just so you two could swap insults! Let us see whether the fabled ashes actually work. Here is Arl Eamon."

The air was still charged, but hostilities seized. Wolf passed the ashes to the mage tending to Arl Eamon, he cast a lengthy spell... and nothing happened. All was exactly like before, except that now Arl's clothes were covered in ash.

Nobody moved or spoke, hoping that may be the magic just needed time to work.

Then, to everyone's relief, Arl Eamon twitched and opened his eyes. The miracle that everyone was hoping for, did happen after all.

"Who are all these people?" The Arl sat up, looking at Wolf and his party, and taking an immediate dislike of Morrigan. "An apostate? Here? Call the templars!!"

"Wait... Perhaps let me tell you first what happened while you were ill..." Teagan started. "It's been months..."

"And while you retell the Arl the story..." Wolf turned to Teagan. "The whole story, please, all of it..." Teagan blushed but nodded. "While you do that... Whatever happened to the mage who poisoned the Arl? Does he still live?"

"He is in the dungeons," Teagan shrugged. "You want to see him, I take it? Suit yourself."

He turned his attention to the Arl, and Wolf and his companions left the room.

"Alistair, I think it is better if you stay with them, though," Wolf turned to Alistair trying to make it look like an afterthought and failing. "You are the only one the Arl knows, and we do want to make sure that everything is told correctly. Remember - we need the Arl's army to fight the Blight."

Alistair nodded and returned to Arl Eamon's room.

"Morrigan, please take the dog to the camp... and stay there," Wolf smiled at her. "This is why we did it all - we need the Arl's army. When the Blight is defeated, you can come back and turn Teagan into a toad, if you wish."

"I would not have to, he is a two-legged toad already!" Morrigan snapped but did as Wolf asked.

Left alone, Wolf descended into the dungeon.

...

"Good grief, you look terrible!" He could not help exclaiming when he saw Anders in one of the cells. The door wasn't locked, but Anders wasn't going anywhere.

"They keep forgetting to bring me food," he smiled weakly. "It doesn't matter, really, they'll execute me soon enough anyway.

"Well... that's why I am here." Wolf pulled up a stool and sat facing Anders who became a shadow of his former self. "Arl Eamon woke up, they are discussing politics now, but then they'll want to judge you. I don't know how much weight my words will carry, I am not Duncan... But... to cut through the chase... I could use someone like you with us..."

"You want a blood mage..?" Anders couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "For what?"

"I have recently acquired several abilities that stem from blood magic," Wolf looked at him sideways. "Yes, it works also on non-mages... So I need a blood mage who is not a maleficar, and you fit the bill..."

Anders stared at Wolf in disbelief.

"Err..."

"That would involve you becoming a Grey Warden though," Wolf continued. "I didn't want to suggest it to the others before talking to you... which is why I am here. However, seeing you like this... You will not survive the Joining, you are too weak. Even if we send you away to recover for a time... I could not justify it to Alistair then... Alistair is of course going to object..." Wolf sighed. "If I invoke the Rite of Conscription, you would have to come with us straight away and go through the Joining soon afterwards, and you are too weak. It would be a death sentence. So I shall only bring it up if you want me to."

"Put like that... I don't think I stand a chance..." Anders nodded. "I've heard of your ritual, of course... It isn't as much of a secret as some like to believe... especially among blood mages... But I agree, I doubt I would survive it in my present state."

"I won't mention it then," Wolf agreed. "Your other options are going to be... execution here by the Arl's men, or execution at the Tower of Magi by the templars... Not much of a prospect..." he sighed.

"Or tranquility," Anders said, and his face fell.

"If the First Enchanter values your life," Wolf looked up. "What would you prefer?"

"Death," Anders answered simply and without hesitation.

The Rite of Tranquility was an irreversible procedure that could be performed on a mage in order to make him or her "harmless". This involved severing the mage's connection to the Fade, removing the magical talent and abilities, and thus making the former mage unattractive to demons. Non-mages were so rarely possessed by demons, that it was considered impossible, which it was not. The side effect of the Rite of Tranquility was that it also purged the person of all emotions and of all memories of emotions. They no longer knew what love or hate even was, all people were equal to them, their attitude always even. They did not know anger or fear... and would therefore quickly fall to darkspawn as they could not recognise the danger and had no means of defending themselves, having lost their magic. They could see a direct attack, of course, and could potentially learn to use weapons... but they lacked the drive or motivation for it, not feeling any violence what so ever. Yet "tranquils", as they were called, were valued by the Circle of Magi because of their ability to work with lyrium, a magical substance used for enchanting weapons and armour. For a mage, direct contact with lyrium would quickly result in insanity and death, and so far only dwarves could work with it, as they had a natural immunity to it. They also did not have magic - there were no dwarven mages. But human and elven tranquils used to be mages before the rite was performed on them, they had the education and knowledge of magical procedures, and thus could quickly learn enchanting too. They knew the law and had no issues obeying the templars, and no complaints against staying in the Tower, as they felt no resentment at being confined...

"Of course, if I were subjected to the Rite of Tranquility, I would no longer object to my condition afterwards," Anders smirked. "Such is the nature of the procedure. You get a perfectly compliant slave, content to just be alive... I would lose myself in that. This Anders would be dead, and a flesh golem would stand in my place... I cannot bear the thought."

"I understand," Wolf nodded. "I met a few tranquils... Then, I fear, your options are limited indeed. Still, I am going to suggest to turn you over to the Circle of Magi. Unless you prefer not to?"

"I get to choose who executes me," Anders smirked. "Well... Thank you for talking to me, anyway. Thank you for trying to help me... I don't know why you are doing it, really... it's unexpected... First, you send me into the Fade to confront the demon, and now you try to pull me out of this mess..."

"You have every right to be suspicious," Wolf nodded. "But there is nothing behind what I told you. I would have liked to have you in our group... were you a bit stronger."

"In this case I prefer the Circle of Magi," Anders looked straight at Wolf. "Even with the possibility of them choosing the Rite of Tranquility over an execution. It's just... familiar. I prefer that."

They talked a bit longer, and then Wolf returned to Arl Eamon and to politics.

...

"Loghain wants a civil war!" Arl Eamon was speaking hotly when Wolf entered the room. "Even though the Blight stands on our doorstep!"

"He does not believe it is the Blight," Alistair said. "He thinks it's just another darspawn incursion."

"He thinks..!" Arl Eamon was red with anger. "I am no Grey Warden either, so I don't know, but if Duncan says it's the Blight, I believe him! You feel it too, Alistair, don't you? Well, is it the Blight or is it not?!"

"It is the Blight, My Lord," Alistair answered.

"Well, that's good enough for me," Arl Eamon tried to calm his anger. "Which means we must prevent the civil war, spare our troops to fight the darkspawn! Yes, of course, you can have my army, provided it doesn't get slaughtered by Loghain in his stupid civil war!!!"

"So what do you propose?" Wolf asked carefully.

"Loghain proclaimed himself King, but he isn't a real King, not by right," Arl Eamon shook his head. "He knows it - doesn't he call himself King Regent? His daughter is the late King's widow, she is still the queen, but the throne does not automatically go to her. The law demands that we first examine all other possible contenders, and then select one to be King."

"Or Queen," Teagan put in.

"Or Queen," Arl Eamon nodded. "Indeed, the King's widow could be crowned as the sovereign as well. Which is what Loghain wants, no doubt, with her being his daughter!" He scoffed and swore. "No, we need a better claim to the throne - a blood claim. Alistair will be King."

"WHAT?!!!" It took a moment to sink in, but then Alistair exploded in objections.

"Alistair, you have a responsibility to this Kingdom," Arl Eamon overruled him. "Loghain must be removed and executed for treason, and this cannot be done if his daughter rules the land. And while there are plenty of nobles with a blood connection to the royal family, none come close enough to overrule the late King's widow. None, besides you. The King was your half brother. You are next in line."

"Next in line of fire, that's for sure," Alistair muttered. "I... understand..."

"Then this is what we shall do," Arl Eamon took quill and parchment. "I shall write to all nobles of Ferelden and call a Landsmeet. With that, all disputes must be put on hold, and Loghain won't be able to rally anyone into fighting. You continue pursuing your treaties to gather forces to face the Blight," he looked at Alistair and Wolf. "Calling the Landsmeet is a lengthy affair anyway, so that will buy us time. When you are finished, come and find me in the capital. If all goes to plan, it will be about time for the Landsmeet then. What happens next... and whether the Archdemon will hold his armies of darkspawn until then... I do not know. But do we have a better plan?"

Everyone shook their heads, there wasn't anything else they could do.

They were about to leave when Teagan finally brought up the topic of Anders.

"There's one last thing, brother," he turned to the Arl. "The matter of the mage whom Loghain hired to poison you. He is still in the dungeons."

"Is he now?" The Arl looked surprised. "Well, have him brought here and we'll see!"

When Anders entered the room supported by one of the knights, Arl Eamon was having great difficulties containing his anger. Yet his voice was relatively calm when he finally spoke.

"I would just have you executed on the spot," he glared at Anders. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing, My Lord, you are within your rights to do so," Anders answered without looking up.

"That I am!" Arl Eamon glared at everyone in the room. "What would you have me do, Warden?" He suddenly addressed Wolf. "Just remember - my capacity for mercy is severely limited just now!"

"Did Teagan tell you the whole story?" Wolf squinted, but Alistair nodded in confirmation. "Then you know it isn't as plain as blaming everything on this one mage. I think it is mostly a matter for the Circle of Magi. I therefore suggest we hand him over to them."

"Hmm... I would have preferred execution myself..." Arl Eamon looked at Anders with hatred. "But what you say is true... and perhaps executing Loghain's pawn would not look good to the Landsmeet..." He paused, rubbing his chin. "Very well, the Circle of Magi it is! Call the templars."

And with that he turned his back on everyone and stormed off.

[Lena Wolf]

Second Seed, 3E387 - Nature of a beast

"Where do you want to go next?" Wolf asked Alistair when they were sitting by the campfire, a little away from everyone else. "Elves or dwarves?"

"I think I'd rather just die here and now," Alistair looked somber. "Make me King! I'd rather die..."

"You aren't King yet," Wolf lowered his voice. "This won't come up until the Landsmeet. We have time..."

"Time for what?" Alistair smirked. "It's not enough time to make a new heir!"

"No, granted..." Wolf didn't really know what to say, he simply thought that Alistair needed to talk it through. With Duncan dead and Arl Eamon taking a hard stance like that, Alistair didn't have anyone he could relate to. Wolf was the next best thing. "Tell me about your life in the Chantry," Wolf suddenly asked, changing the topic. "What was it like?"

"Lonely," Alistair shrugged. "The other boys had parents come and visit them, it isn't a prison, you know, and no where as strict as the Tower of Magi... But I was fuming angry at Arl Eamon for sending me there, and after a while he stopped visiting... My fault of course, but I was young... and no one else came to see me anyway."

"I understand now why you wanted to look up your half sister," Wolf picked up the thread. "When we were in the capital... but she just rebuffed you for 'having killed your mother'. Like it was your fault that she died in childbirth with you... People can be quite irrational sometimes."

"That they can," Alistair nodded. "Like a certain young boy angry with his adoptive father for sending him to the Chantry..." he sighed. "But now this adoptive father betrayed me again! Now he wants me to be King!" Alistair's face lit up with anger. "Did you notice how he never asked my opinion?"

"Kings rarely get to do what they want," Wolf agreed. "You thought that becoming a Grey Warden would relinquish your claim to the throne... I am sorry that it didn't."

"It was supposed to," Alistair said with defiance. "Grey Wardens are supposed to leave their prior lives behind, not to have them thrust upon them again! Remember Ser Jori? The knight whom Duncan killed during the Joining? He didn't want to leave his life behind, and died for it. And I now get my life thrust upon me while there's the Blight to stand up to!"

"Duncan isn't here to say otherwise," Wolf said with sadness. "My word doesn't stretch that far, and Arl Eamon tends to forget the rules when it suits him..."

"Why did you save that blood mage?" Alistair squinted at Wolf. "You wanted him to join us, didn't you? A blood mage?!"

"I knew you'd disapprove," Wolf smiled. "But yes, I wanted him to join us. He isn't a bad sort, really, just young and confused, and in a lot of trouble... But you've seen him - he would never survive the Joining in his present state..."

"I think you made the right decision there," Alistair nodded. "Let the First Enchanter deal with him. We've got plenty of our own fish to fry."

They sat in silence for a while, then Alistair spoke again.

"Thanks for the talk, Wolf," he smiled. "I know you tried to make me feel better... Well, it worked."

"Any time," Wolf touched his arm. "We share the same blood - remember? We are no strangers any longer."

"Do you ever think about home?" Alistair looked more relaxed now. "You do intend to return, don't you?"

"Eventually, yes," Wolf nodded. "That's the point. If I do not return, then I would have failed in my mission. Unless I find some way to send word... But I have nothing to send as yet anyway."

"Do you even have a home to return to?" Alistair looked up. "I mean, you're a soldier, aren't you, and soldiers..."

"...don't necessarily have homes? True," Wolf nodded. "I have no living family back in Tamriel, but there are Asgarsens buried in many a crypt all throughout Skyrim... I feel a connection to that land, to my roots... As you feel a connection to Ferelden, no doubt."

"Actually, no, I don't," Alistair scratched his head. "Never did. But I also never tried leaving for another land... Perhaps I'd feel it then. They do say that you only notice how much you value something once you lose it."

The night was clear with many stars looking down on them, and Wolf thought that they looked just like they always did back in Skyrim. It gave him comfort, somehow. Of all his companions, Alistair did seem to understand him best. "I was not unlike him when I was his age," Wolf reflected, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "I am not that much older, in truth... May be not in years... And Alistair is maturing quickly, now that he can no longer hide in Duncan's shadow... He is a recruit no longer."

...

"Elves or dwarves?" Wolf repeated his question in the morning, when the camp was all packed up and everyone was wondering where they were headed next. "Let's toss a coin!" He threw a coin in the air. "Heads! Elves then."

"But wait - you never said what was what!" Alistair laughed, pocketing the coin. "Oh, I don't mind - elves it is."

The elven tribe with whom they had an ancient treaty, inhabited the Brecilian Forest. They were easy to find, easier than Wolf had imagined. Soon it became evident why that was the case. The tribe was suffering from a terrible curse - that of the werewolf.

"There are werewolves in this forest," one of the elves explained. "Always before they kept to themselves, and we never ventured into the depths that they inhabit. But recently things changed. They now roam the entire forest and attack us on sight! We cannot even go out hunting!"

It was a dire situation. Several hunters were afflicted already, the curse was causing them severe pain, and after some time would lead either to a transformation into a werewolf, or outright death.

"We cannot honour our promise, Warden," the Keeper of the tribe said with regret. "We simply do not have any fighters left..."

He would not say how to lift the curse, he was evasive and did not want to dwell on "past events" and "ancient history", and Wolf got a distinct impression that those events and that history was the crux of the matter. He tried asking around, but no one knew what came to pass. "The Keeper has rediscovered elven immortality," some would say. "He is centuries old. He does not age and will live forever. If he speaks of something that happened in the past... it was so long ago, that no one, not even any of us, knows what it was. It was all long before any of us was born..."

"There is no such thing as elven immortality," Zevran said quietly when they stood far enough from any tribesmen. "There is elven longevity, for sure, but immortality - that's just talk. Something isn't right here."

"I had the same impression," Wolf nodded. "I suppose we'll have to find that white wolf who is apparently the source of the curse, and take it from there."

"The Keeper wants the wolf's heart," Zevran pointed out. "That won't be easy."

"I don't believe it will come to that," Wolf smiled. "Something tells me the wolf isn't a wolf... If the Keeper thinks I would not figure it out, he is gravely mistaken."

"I just hope it won't involve drinking any more blood," Alistair shuddered.

...

The forest had all manner of beasts and creatures, as any forest should. They unlocked its secrets and gained entry to the werewolf lair. They fought a lot of werewolves, but hardly any wolf. In fact, animals seemed to avoid the werewolves, which Wolf found strange.

"I've seen many werewolves before," he said at some point, examining corpses of werewolves they just killed. "They normally turn into people in death, but these do not. The curse must be of a different nature."

"These are 'permanent' werewolves, so to speak," Morrigan noted. "They never turn into people... Normal werewolves spend their lives mostly in human form, only turning into the were-form for a few nights a month... but these ones are stuck in their were-forms permanently. Someone or something is maintaining that form... A spirit or a mage..."

As they walked on, they saw glimpses of a white wolf - a wolf, not a werewolf, it had a regular animal form and white fur. It was larger than an average wolf, true, but not by much. It always kept its distance, never coming close and never attacking.

"The spirit has noticed us," Wolf pointed out. "It could have killed us long ago, but it didn't. I wonder what it is that it wants..."

...

"And now you die!!!"

The Keeper had followed them into the werewolf lair. He did not want to speak with the spirit, he simply wanted the wolf's heart. But the spirit had the power to never present the wolf form, so there was no heart to be had. The spirit wanted release... It was the Keeper who created that curse many centuries ago, when a group of humans attacked his clan, killed his son and raped his daughter. The curse was the Keeper's revenge. He summoned a powerful and angry spirit and bound it to the body of a large white wolf. Its bite spread the curse among the humans, they withdrew into the depths of the forest and lived there all this time. And the Keeper would be alive for as long as the curse existed, they were now one and the same.

"Yet killing the Keeper would not lift the curse," the spirit warned Wolf when he was about to attack the Keeper. "The Keeper is the only one who can lift it. He alone knows how the ritual ends. And when he casts that spell, I and he will both perish. The curse will be lifted and the humans as well as the elves will be cured instantly. But the Keeper has to wish to do it."

"So what's with the heart, then?" Wolf squinted. "That seems to me like an alternative way to lift the curse."

"Which may or may not work," the Keeper said in a barely audible whisper. "But there is no room in my heart for mercy. I cannot free these humans who wronged my children, I still see them, dead, every night in my sleep..." He paused, then looked up and cast a spell. "The spirit can be forced into a wolf form! When it transforms, be quick and kill it! Then cut out its heart!"

The spell fizzled out, the spirit blocked its magic.

"I shall not help you, Keeper," Wolf sheathed his sword.

"Then you will die with them!!!"

The Keeper attacked. He attacked everyone else in the hall - Wolf and his party, the spirit and half a dozen werewolves. He summoned demons and the battle was far from pre-decided.

"This magic is astounding!" Morrigan couldn't help admiring the power, while not forgetting to cast her own spells. Alistair's templar skills did nothing to the likes of the Keeper, and even the spirit was taking hits rather than dealing them out. The werewolves fell one by one. The Keeper's demons were stronger than them.

"Never mind the demons, focus on the Keeper!" Wolf shouted.

Bob, the Mabari hound, stopped mid-attack, turned around leaving the demon alone, and charged the Keeper. It was as simple as that - pinned to the ground by an angry dog, he could not cast spells, and without the Keeper's support the demons were soon defeated.

"Do not kill him!!!!" Wolf bellowed, and Bob stopped tearing at the Keeper's flesh, but still kept hold of his leg.

"Enough!" The spirit dispatched the remaining demons and cleared magic from the air. "Enough fighting! We are stronger than you, Keeper, if only just. Now, please, lift the curse. Grant me oblivion."

"You shame me, spirit," the Keeper rose with difficulty, Bob reluctantly releasing his leg. "My heart has no mercy... My heart has been completely consumed by hate... I see it now. I am not fit to lead my people, to be a Keeper. It's time to end it..."

He cast a spell, there was a flash of light and he collapsed to the ground, dead. The spirit vanished, leaving a body of a large white wolf on the floor. The werewolves turned into humans, even though many of them were dead. It didn't look like a happy ending.

"I don't think this story could have a happy end," Morrigan knelt over the body of the Keeper. "Look at him now - his blood is completely black."

...

"But look on the bright side - we've got the elves' support, yet you didn't have to drink werewolf blood," Alistair tried to lift the mood a bit when they were back at the camp. "Do you want to go straight to Orzammar? We just have the dwarves to do... That should... well... that... ugh... that won't be easy..." His voice lost its artificially joyful tone. "They fight darkspawn all the time, there's always darkspawn in the Deep Roads. That's where we Grey Wardens go to die when the call of the Black City starts clouding our judgement. Die and take as many darkspawn with us as we can... Duncan spoke of it many a time, he was hearing the Call already..."

"He died taking as many darkspawn with him as he could," Wolf said quietly. "But it is not our turn yet. We must survive it so that we could die in the final battle and take the Archdemon with us..."

"At least we won't have to drink any more blood because we drank that one already," Alistair grinned, rummaging in his pack. "Try this instead. Golden Scythe 4:90 Black."

"Serve by the drop. Do not touch," Wolf read the label. "Sounds good." He took a sip and rolled the liquor around in his mouth. "Hemlock and nightshade... frost salts, too? Magnificent. Darkspawn, here we come!"

[Lena Wolf]

Second Seed, 3E387 - Man to man

"Why are you sleeping with Morrigan?" Alistair sat next to Wolf by the campfire when they stopped for the night along the way. "I mean, even in camp! I know she pitches her tent away from everyone else, but we can hear you two, nonetheless..."

"Why?" Wolf grinned at him. "Why not? I like her. An interesting young woman... And anyhow, what choice do I have? Wynn and Leliana are not exactly my type, either of them."

"That's not what I meant..." Alistair shook his head. "Not why Morrigan - that's obvious, given the alternatives," he looked over his shoulder making sure that neither Wynn nor Leliana could hear them. "No, why are you doing it at all? We're here to fight darkspawn..."

"Which we do," Wolf nodded. "Plenty of that to go around... But a fine woman like Morrigan, well, that's a rarity..."

"That's what soldiers do, isn't it?" Zevran joined them, having overheard their talk. "They think nothing of it. It's a part of life like eating and sleeping... You are still young, and... wait... weren't you raised in the Chantry? May be that's why you don't see it that way..."

"I was raised in the Chantry, yes," Alistair nodded. "But templars don't take vows of celibacy. I grew up surrounded by commanding women... Reverend Mother this, Holy Sister that... They do take vows of celibacy, but no one would dare... err... or wish... to share any intimacy with them anyway..."

"What about the Sisters though?" Zevran threw a glance at Leliana. "There aren't just Mothers in the Chantry..."

"Sisters take vows of celibacy very early on," Alistair nodded. "Leliana didn't, but she isn't a full Sister. There were no Lay Sisters like that around us growing up..."

"Well, that explains a lot..." Zevran smirked and shook his head.

"Why, where did you grow up?" Alistair squinted at him.

"In a brothel," Zevran gave him a broad smile. "My mother was a... how do you put it? A working woman. She worked in a brothel."

"So you did... things... right from the early age..?" Alistair's eyes went wide.

"No, I didn't, growing up in a brothel doesn't make you mature any quicker than growing up anywhere else," Zevran laughed. "Besides, us kids weren't allowed into the salon, we never witnessed that. And when the Crows bought me... well, I was too young to know the sort of thing that kept my mother employed."

"Why did your mother sell you?" Alistair looked said. "It was she who sold you, right?"

"It was she, yes," Zevran nodded. "I bear no grudge, mind. It wasn't uncommon. She said that the life of an assassin would be better for me than the alternative... You know, if I stayed... They'd leave us alone as long as we were children, but puberty changed things."

"Was your mother a slave too?"

"Of course, she was an elf," Zevran shrugged. "Elves in these lands are either servants or slaves, and the difference is in name only... But you knew that already."

"Or they are Dalish, the one tribe that still has its freedom," Alistair nodded.

"The one with the werewolf curse," Zevran smirked. "Yes, I know, it's been lifted now. But they live like savages, and I don't just mean the forest. The way they treat outsiders... The way they looked at me..."

"What way?" Alistair was taken aback.

"Like I was a traitor for being a city elf."

The conversation died down and they sat staring into the fire for a while.

"What do you intend to do with me when the Archdemon is slain?" Zevran asked Wolf.

"How do you mean - what I intend to do with you?" Wolf raised an eyebrow. "You are not my slave."

"No, I mean, I promised to fight with you against the Blight, but my life will remain forfeit after that also," Zevran explained. "And I said: I would be your man until further notice. So it is your decision."

"Well... you would be free to do as you like then," Wolf shrugged. "Leave or stay... I could always use a friend, you know."

"A friend?" Zevran sounded surprised. "That... ah... you would consider that..." His voice trailed off. "It's nice to know I have that option," he concluded with a smile.

"Why do I have a feeling you never had a friend?" Alistair squinted.

"Well, no, that's not true," Zevran laughed. "Of course I had friends... It's just... it isn't easy, in my line of work, you know..."

"I don't think it has anything to do with your line of work," it was Wolf's turn to squint. "I do not mean to pry, but friendships do sometimes turn sour... special ones in particular..."

Zevran gave him a long look but didn't reply.

"But that takes time..." Alistair looked closely at Zevran. "And he's still so young..."

"Think he's your age?" Wolf smirked. "He's an elf, Alistair. I bet Zevran is older than both of us taken together and then some."

"How can you tell?" Zevran smiled.

"I've seen you fight," Wolf shrugged. "I trained many a recruit in my day... That finesse comes with a lifetime of practice. A human lifetime, that is."

...

While the men were discussing women, the women had a conversation of their own. Morrigan walked over to Wynn's tent and sat next to her.

"I know you resent me, Wynn, but I don't think it is because I am an apostate," she started.

"Oh? No, you're right, it's because you are a blood mage," Wynn shrugged. "Blood magic is forbidden by the Circle."

"I am no blood mage and you know it," Morrigan shook her head. "A shapeshifter, yes, but no blood mage. No, you resent me because I know what you are."

"And what am I then, young lady?" Wynn's voice became threatening.

"An abomination."

"How dare you!!!"

"Is it not so?" Morrigan squinted. "Your healing powers are astounding, but your regular spells are weak. Well, weak compared to your healing magic. Which tells me that your healing magic is not your own."

"You are very perceptive. Flemeth trained you well," Wynn said quietly. "And yet... do you think I am the same as the blood mages that we fought in the Tower?"

"The same? No, I never said that," Morrigan shook her head. "You didn't turn into a fleshy sack like they did... although of course there's no telling what's under your robes..."

"I did NOT turn into a fleshy sack!" Wynn exclaimed in indignation. "Watch your tongue, young lady!"

"Or what? I have Flemeth for a mother, I shall not be intimidated that easily!"

"Well, alright." Wynn slid the hem of her robe up her leg. "No fleshy sacks, see?"

"So, then the spirit inside you is not a demon," Morrigan nodded. "I thought as much. A nice benevolent spirit that gives you the healing power... But it is a spirit all the same. A spirit is possessing your soul."

"I know..." Wynn sighed. "I know that spirit. I met it in the Fade many times before... At least I think it was the same spirit. I've always felt it watching over me... That made me take unnecessary risks at times..." She smiled and laughed, and Morrigan thought that perhaps those risks weren't always magic or battle related. "I am an old woman, Morrigan, older than I look. I should be dead. I fought a demon during the uprising in the Tower... before your group arrived... you know we had been locked in, right? Well... I fought a demon and lost... It killed me. But then the spirit raised me again, gave me life... And together we defeated that demon, as well as many others. I could not stay with the Circle after that, of course... And I do not believe that I have long to live... Spirits too are mortal, in a way... they can dissolve in the Void. And I believe that the spirit that's inside me, is slowly weakening."

"Being bound to a body and another soul without imposing its will must be draining," Morrigan nodded. "I've read of this type of possession... For possession it is, of course... The spirit will die after a while unless it imposes its will over yours and feeds on your soul. Yes, even benevolent spirits have to eat."

"Exactly," Wynn agreed. "But this one seems to be really pure... A Spirit of Faith, perhaps? I do not think there's a danger of it feeding on me... but it does mean that it and I don't have that many years left to live."

"And now you joined the Wardens to fight the Blight, but you want them to do it squeaky clean and correct in compensation for having a... well... a possessed mage among them!" Morrigan frowned, but avoided calling Wynn an abomination again.

"I joined the Wardens to fight the Blight, yes, but I did not relinquish my values!" Wynn replied hotly. "Blood magic is out and demonology is forbidden! You saw what happened at Soldier's Peak! It never ends well!"

"That didn't go according to plan, granted," Morrigan tried to calm the atmosphere. "But surely you knew what Grey Wardens are... how they come to be Grey Wardens... what gives them their power. That's blood magic, Wynn."

"They drink darkspawn blood so that they can sense darkspawn, yes, I know," she nodded. "It is blood magic, technically, yes. But they don't use it for anything else, so that's alright."

"Is it now?" Morrigan smirked. "So, it's just some form of benevolent blood magic, right? Used for good?" She gave a short laugh. "Oh come off it, Wynn, you know better! Blood magic is blood magic, and if you accept this mild form, you must accept it all. It isn't the blood that's the problem here, it's the spells that the mages cast!"

"Which can be horrific! Spells that cannot be cast without blood!" Wynn wasn't giving up.

"May be. Or may be not," Morrigan wasn't giving up either. "Blood is just a source of power. Lyrium is another, but blood is stronger. What if a different source of power was found, some other type of lyrium, and that would then allow to cast those horrific spells? Will you outlaw all magic then?"

"That... that is a terrifying prospect," Wynn nodded, suddenly growing quiet. "I have thought about that... there are some old scrolls... describing something like that..." She looked at Morrigan. "I do not know which substance it is, I do not believe we have it now, but it seems to do just what you say... replace blood as a source of power... may be even supersede it..." She paused, but Morrigan didn't say anything. "I fear that if such a source appeared, the Chantry would indeed insist on outlawing all magic altogether... Perhaps they'll want to turn all mages into tranquils, or else just hunt us down... who knows..."

Dark ghosts of times to come circled around the two mages sitting by a campfire in a forest infested with darkspawn. They both felt their presence, but the Veil was still holding strong. The Grey Wardens on the other side of the camp suddenly looked up. "Danger approaches!" Alistair cried and everyone jumped to their feet and picked up their weapons. Darkspawn rose from under the earth.

...

"How did this happen?" Sten asked the one question that was on everyone's mind after that epic battle. "How did they know where to find us?"

"Their blood led them to us," Alistair answered. "Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn because we share in their blood. But equally darkspawn and the Archdemon can sense Grey Wardens... Yet usually they stay away, as our taint is weaker than theirs. This was a directed attack." He looked at Wolf and Wolf nodded.

"I saw him too. The Archdemon is sending us a message. We must not dally."

[Lena Wolf]

Midyear, 3E387 - Darkspawn

"The dwarves battle darkspawn all the time," Alistair was telling his companions in an attempt to prepare them for the trip to Orzammar, the capital of the Dwarven Kingdom. "It is only during the times of the Blight that darkspawn come to the surface in large numbers, but they are always present underground. And as we all know, the Dwarven Kingdom is entirely underground... You do all know that, right?" He looked at each of them in turn, and everyone nodded. "Right. Well. There are several levels of underground, too... The city is just below the surface, then there are mines and then there are the Deep Roads. That's an ancient network of highways that the dwarves had built to connect individual underground cities with each other... Unfortunately it was largely destroyed during one of the previous Blights, and now it is completely infested by darkspawn... All the time, not just during the Blight. So in fact, the Deep Roads and the Dwarven Kingdom is what keeps the darkspawn from surfacing most of the time..."

"We should show respect, then," Sten pointed out. "I've heard of this too. The dwarves keep the darkspawn at bay."

"I wonder if it is any different there now, what with the Archdemon at large..." Morrigan asked, leafing through a book. "This is an account of one of the previous Blights, but it does not speak of the dwarves at all..."

"Written by a human, no doubt," Zevran said mostly to himself, but everyone heard him.

"It doesn't seem right to ask the dwarves for help against the Blight since they are already helping, every day of every year, Blight or no Blight..." Wynne looked at Alistair. "But you say they signed a treaty? And you want to pursue it?"

"We should at least go there and talk to them," Wolf joined the conversation. "Yes, we have a treaty between the Dwaven Kingdom and the Grey Wardens promising help to fight the Blight on the surface. Because the Archdemon always makes his final stand on the surface, you can't actually catch him underground, as I understand it. And the dwarves are interested in defeating the Archdemon and stopping the Blight. I suppose it reduces darkspawn incursions for them too."

"Well, if you put it like that..." Wynne shrugged. "Oh, very well."

"You'd think she's the head of the Grey Warden Order, really," Alistair said in Wolf's ear. "Does she know we don't actually need her approval?"

"She does, but it doesn't stop her lecturing me on how to be a Grey Warden," Wolf shrugged. "About my public responsibility and stuff... She keeps calling me a 'young man', too. It was flattering at first, but now it just sounds like an insult."

"Like you don't know what you're doing," Alistair nodded. "You're young compared to her, of course. How old are you, actually? Just curious... You don't need to answer if you don't want to... never mind I asked, it's none of my business at all... but I'm curious, is all..."

"It's fine, it's not a secret!" Wolf laughed. "I am thirty-nine."

"Wow!" Alistair whistled and several heads turned. "Sorry... I just somehow thought you were closer to me in age... I'm only twenty-six, see..."

"And there's nothing wrong with that either," Wolf shrugged. "Although it is too young to die, Archdemon or not..."

"Some say the Archdemon appears in the Deep Roads in times of the Blight," Alistair said with a somber face. "Do you think we'll see it? I mean, do you think it will show itself to us?"

"I think it will," Wolf nodded. "That dream I had last night... He spoke to me again."

"Me too," Alistair nodded. "He means business."

"He's toying with us like a cat playing with a mouse," Wolf frowned. "He could have eliminated us ages ago - the last attack on our camp made that clear. But he doesn't do it for some reason... Perhaps he doesn't believe that we pose a threat? If so, we should continue looking like we don't know what we're doing..."

"I agree - you don't know what you're doing," Sten suddenly joined them. "Where's your planning, your strategy? You do not live up to the great fame of the Grey Wardens."

"Do we not?" Wolf turned to him. "What fame do you speak of, anyway?"

"The legends surrounding your Order," Sten shrugged. "They speak of Grey Wardens as great warriors and strategists... But instead we are running around the country like a bunch of errand boys and I have yet to see any evidence of strategy, great or otherwise! You've made no plans or preparations to reach the Archdemon! You don't even know where he is!"

"No, we don't, and therein lies the difficulty," Wolf nodded. "We cannot take the fight to him - he takes the fight to us. We must be ready to respond. Which is what we are trying to prepare for. Sten... isn't it a rank rather than a name? Quite a high rank in the Quanari military, as far as I can gather," Wolf squinted. "Oh yes, I've been reading books since I arrived... So then, Sten, do you think you could do better against the Blight?"

"Yes," Sten said proudly and walked away with a smile.

"Hmm..." Alistair shook his head. "He says yes and walks away... Great help he is..."

...

Orzammar was in turmoil. The dwarven King had died just a few weeks ago, and now the Kingdom needed to choose his successor. The Assembly was deadlocked between two candidates: the late King's son and the late King's general... and naturally it fell to the Grey Wardens to break that deadlock.

"We have no choice but to meddle in dwarven politics!" Wolf was saying with irritation when he and Alistair were once again sitting by the campfire trying to figure out what to do. "The Blight is not going to wait for them to make up their minds! And we'll have no help until they have a king, that much is clear."

"Dwarven kings are not hereditary," Alistair nodded. "They are elected. Usually the ruling king leaves a testament endorsing a successor, and the late king did that - he endorsed his general. But his son, Prince Bhelen, put forward his own candidature as well, which he has the right to do... Every noble has the right to claim the throne... Can you imagine? What a mess!"

"So they can't choose between the prince and the general," Wolf nodded. "We'll have to get to know those people."

But they could not get to know them until they've proven their "loyalty" to one or the other. Wolf asked what was required for that, and found both tasks distasteful. The Prince wanted him to deliver some compromising papers to two nobles to show that the general was dishonest. The general, on the other hand, wanted the Warden to fight in the Arena as his personal champion.

"Either get involved into a scandal or kill someone in the Arena as a show of support!" Wolf swore. "I am not his champion! He wouldn't even meet with me first! So I suppose it's going to be delivering papers."

As it turned out, it really didn't matter whom the Wardens supported - the Assembly was still deadlocked, now may be even worse than before.

"There is a sure way to break the deadlock, but it requires venturing into the Deep Roads," the Prince told Wolf. "I'd say it shouldn't be an issue for a Grey Warden, but this isn't a regular expedition. This requires going into the Dead Trenches... the area that's overwhelmed by darkspawn even in the quietest times... so what it is like now that the Blight is on... only the Archdemon knows that."

"What happened in the Dead Trenches?" Wolf prepared for a long story.

"We lost that whole part of the Deep Roads during one of the previous Blights," the Prince shrugged. "They were sealed off in order to save the rest of us. It must have been terrible for those dwarves that were sacrificed... but such is life in the Dwarven Kingdom," he sighed. "However, this is not the important point. It is rumoured that the secret to making golems is there. That secret was lost during that Blight. If you want our help, find Branka - one crazy woman who's taken her whole House and went there in search of that secret. She is a living Paragon and her vote is worth the entire Assembly. If you find her, and especially if she already managed to uncover that secret, you will have the strongest golem army since that fatal Blight."

"It doesn't look like I have a choice," Wolf sighed and the Prince smiled and inclined his head.

"This sounds like another trial by blood," Alistair said quietly. "May be not drinking blood as such... but something equally abhorrent."

"I was getting used it it already, myself," Wolf smirked. "Bring it on. Although I do agree with you - this will be much worse than what we've taken on until now."

...

"We should keep our camp on the surface though!" Leliana shivered when Wolf announced they had to mount an expedition into the depths of the Deep Roads. "I've heard horror stories about the Deep Roads!"

"The stories are probably true and the reality will likely be much worse," Alistair nodded. "But you cannot have an expedition into the Deep Roads while coming back to camp on the surface every night. We won't get very far that way."

"You mean there are no exits along the way..?" Leliana looked somber.

"I shall never get the stench out of my blades," Zevran sighed. "But I am with you. I'll just have to buy new blades when this is all over..."

"I don't like it but it does make sense," Sten agreed. "We must move the camp as we progress. Let's hope we'll find food there and won't be reduced to eating only darkspawn..."

"ONLY darkspawn???" Leliana exclaimed in horror. "You mean, we are going to be eating SOME darkspawn either way??? I am NOT going! The Maker would never agree to that!"

"Sorry to hear it, Leliana," Wolf lied. "I too rather dislike the smell."

"We'll purify it as best we can," Wynne nodded. "Let's gather herbs before going."

...

"Just how many more of these are hiding in this cave???" Alistair exclaimed putting down yet another walking corpse. "I expected darkspawn, not undead!"

"Remember what the Prince told us how they sealed off this part of the Deep Roads? I bet these undead are the dwarves that were locked in here to die... I can't imagine their spirits to be at rest, somehow." Wolf looked around, making sure that all the corpses were still again.

"Oh great," Alistair sighed as he preferred not to swear.

Progress through the Deep Roads was slow. They met several dwarven patrols along the way, but the further in they went, the fewer signs of living people they found. Besides the darkspawn and the undead, they also faced giant spiders and "deepstalkers" - a kind of half-chicken half-lizard type of creature that liked to hunt in packs. Strange though they were, they were living creatures without any dark taint, and thus they became the primary source of food for our party. So far no one had to eat darkspawn, not even the Grey Wardens.

"Aren't you immune to eating darkspawn?" Zevran asked one evening. "I mean, you already drank the blood... So ingesting more of it should make no difference, no?"

"It won't kill us, if that's what you mean," Alistair looked up. "But this stuff accumulates. We only drank a few drops of blood... feeding on darkspawn regularly is a different matter, though. It would..."

"No, no, don't continue!" Zevran interrupted him. "It accumulates - that's enough for me! I don't want to hear about all the stages! I see it before me in every battle, so I have an idea already!"

From that point on, roasted deepstalker tasted genuinely delicious even in spite of the smell.

[Lena Wolf]

Midyear, 3E387 - Branka

"Branka, you are crazy," a dwarf with a fire-red beard appeared as if out of nowhere when Wolf and his party finally found Branka. She stood in the very forge where golems were created centuries ago. "You turned your whole House into darkspawn just so you could have the secret to golem making," the dwarf shook his head. "You know that we should kill you for this, right?"

"I know, Oghren," she turned around to look at him. "That's why I left you behind. I also knew that sooner or later you'd find me, husband."

"Can someone explain what is going on?" Alistair was looking at Oghren and Branka in turn. "You two are married? And what's with the 'turn the whole House into darkspawn' bit?"

"We went looking for the secret to making golems because another Blight is upon us," Branka spoke first. "And I presume that something happened in Orzammar and the Assembly is deadlocked and so they sent you to find me so that I, the sole living Paragon, would show them the way. Am I close?" She smirked with disdain.

"That's right, the king died a few weeks ago, and they cannot agree on the successor," Wolf nodded.

"Of course not." Branka shook her head. "Well, we found the secret to golems, and I can tell you all about it, as well as make new golems to fight the Blight..."

"But you are not going to like it," Oghren finished her sentenced. "I know you, Branka. You are crazy but you are not evil. You don't like it either, but you accepted the sacrifice. And the guilt. There's more to it than just sacrificing your own House, is there? As if that weren't enough already... Come on now, tell the Warden the whole story. He's a surfacer, he doesn't know how things are down here..."

"The smith who invented golems used to work here," Branka spoke again. "He built golems to fight the Blight, and no one was complaining when they were keeping the people safe... But then of course the kings and princes each wanted their personal golems, since the Blight had been defeated, and there was no real need for them any longer... As if that could ever be true in the Deep Roads! There's always darkspawn here, Blight or no Blight..." She sighed and continued. "The rulers started demanding more and more golems... So the smith refused building them altogether, closed down this forge and placed traps from here to Orzammar... Or at least that's what he meant to do, I'm certain. He rigged the roads for miles and miles. No one was to find this forge, no one was to know the secret to making golems."

"Ah, this is where sacrificing your own House comes in," Oghren took a large swig of mead from his hip flask. "You're right, Branka, I would not have let you do that."

"We tried disarming the traps, but they were too clever for us," Branka shrugged. "I think they were not even meant to be disarmed, I don't believe it was possible. The only way to get through was to die trying. I didn't send anyone into those traps, once we figured out what they were. Yes, we had some deaths before that, but not by intent. So then... we needed a small army of creatures to send into the traps..."

"So you... No!!!" Oghren exclaimed in horror. "How could you, Branka?!"

"What was I supposed to do?" She turned to him. "The Blight is on, Oghren. The Grey Wardens Order is small and weak, royal complacency decimated them upside just as badly as it decimated our golem army down here. You know what happened at Ostagar... Yes, we've had word," she looked at Wolf. "The Archdemon came bragging..."

"But to turn your own house into darkspawn..!!!"

"Yes, I've done this," Branka looked stoic. "Our House paid the ultimate price."

"I still don't understand..." Alistair scratched the back of his head. "Did they all die on the traps?"

"Worse!!!" Oghren took another swig of his mead. "That Broodmother that we fought just before? That was one of the ladies from our House! And all the darkspawn were her offsprings!"

"It is true," Branka responded without a trace of emotion. "There was no other way. We needed hundreds if not thousands of bodies to die on those damnable traps. We fed darkspawn flesh to the women of my House until they started to turn into darkspawn themselves, then we continued with the feeding, and then some of them became broodmothers. They were producing darkspawn in troves and we sent them to the traps to die..."

"But the darkspawn that was here before, did not leave you alone either," Oghren seemed to have understood long ago what happened. "Which is why none of the men survived."

"They fell in battle, yes," Branka nodded. "Two years is a long time."

"You should not have left me," Oghren looked at her and Wolf thought he saw a tear glitter in his eye.

"I left you behind so that you could live..." Branka smiled weakly.

There was a pause in conversation that no one wanted to break. Then Branka shook her head and turned away.

"But now that we are here," Wynne said quietly. "There's still a choice to make, isn't there? You still haven't told us about the secret to making golems."

"Indeed," Branka turned around to look at her. "It's right here. The technique, the materials... as well as the driving force - that which animates a golem. Look around this hall. You will see it for yourselves."

The hall they were in had a forge in one corner and some materials strewn around, but otherwise it was fairly empty. If the secret was there, it was hiding in plain sight.

"These walls are highly polished," Morrigan noted. "More so than the walls in the Royal Palace in Orzammar even... Polished and ready to receive inscriptions..."

"There are inscriptions on this wall," Alistair called from the other end of the hall. "I am not that good at reading Dwarven script... but I think... No..! But yes... these are names..!"

"What animates a golem is a mortal soul," Wynne looked at Branka in horror. "These are the names of the dwarves sacrificed on that very anvil!" She pointed at the smithing anvil in the hall, rage rising in her. "But this is blood magic!"

"Dwarves don't do magic, Wynne," Morrigan interjected without taking her eyes off the carved wall. "And souls don't bleed..."

"It's just as bad! Or worse!" Wynne's rage seemed quite uncharacteristic for her.

"Is that Wynne speaking or is it the spirit inside Wynne raging at the fact that the spirits of these dwarves were used to animate golems?" Morrigan walked over to Wynne and touched her shoulder. Wynne jerked and looked at Morrigan as if seeing her there for the first time.

"Did I..?" She said weakly. "Oh my..." She shook her head.

Wolf watched them but could not quite understand what just happened. "Have to ask Morrigan later," he made a mental note. Something about Wynne wasn't right.

"So, the secret to making golems is that you have to sacrifice dwarves for it and confine their souls to these stone husks," Alistair turned around, looking at Branka. "Is that right? And of course, these were volunteers at first, but we all know how these things tend to progress..."

"Exactly," Branka nodded. "It is one thing to sacrifice yourself so that a golem with your soul would be defending your people from the Blight. But it is a completely different thing if that golem is just meant to scrub the floors in your master's palace or beat up his opposition!" She scoffed. "The original smith refused to make golems for that. Then he too was turned into a golem."

"What?! How???" Alistair couldn't believe his ears. "But who built all the traps????"

"He did," Branka replied. "As a golem... or before that... or may be he had an accomplice... I am not sure on that point," she shrugged. "But there are carved panels here that tell us that it was his intention to hide this forge from the world so that no one would be able to make any more golems."

"And can you do it?" Alistair held his breath. "Take a person's soul and stick it into a stone husk?"

"I know how to do it," Branka nodded. "And I shall do it to build golems to fight in this Blight."

"Absolutely not!!!" Alistair exploded in anger. "No way!!!"

"It is not blood magic, but it is not far off!" Wynne agreed, now with her own voice. "It is immoral to use it."

"Isn't it up to the dwarves, really?" Zevran joined in. "It's their history, their culture, their souls... I don't see why we should have any say in this."

"I agree," Wolf nodded. "It is not our place to tell them what to do. But we still need to resolve the issue with the deadlocked Assembly. We need the help of the Dwarven Kingdom, with or without the golems. Branka, you need to come with us to Orzammar."

"She is not going anywhere!!!" A booming voice echoed through the hall. "She is a traitor!!! She will die here!!"

A golem stood among them, ready to squash Branka on the spot.

"Master smith!!" Both Branka and Oghren seemed to realise who it was. "Warden! You have to help us defeat this golem!!" They shouted.

"Warden! You have to help me defeat this traitor!!!" The golem shouted at the same time. "Choose now!!!"

Everyone froze, waiting for Wolf to choose a side. He shot a quick glance at his companions and wondered if any of them would turn on him if he made the "wrong" choice. They probably would not mind if he chose to kill Branka... but he felt it would backfire during the battles with darkspawn that awaited them. He could choose to support Branka and battle the golem, and that would undoubtedly make a huge difference in the battles against the Blight... but Alistair would disapprove, potentially causing a split between the only two Grey Wardens of Ferelden. Wynne would disapprove as well, but Wolf was less concerned with that. He hesitated a moment longer. Alistair...

Alistair seemed to understand Wolf's dilemma. He met his gaze and frowned, then sighed and nodded slightly. He disapproved, but he would not stand against it...

"Grey Wardens stand with Branka!" Wolf declared and Alistair drew his sword. "The dwarves will decide for themselves whether or not they build golems!"

The golem of the old master smith attacked. He immobilised Branka and activated several golems to fight for him.

"I will not stand for blood magic!" Wynne showed her colours and joined the golems.

"Why am I not surprised!" Zevran shot her a glance and cloaked - she would not stand a chance against an assassin of his caliber.

Morrigan started casting without another word.

The battle was ferocious. Zevran knocked out Wynne quickly, but that didn't make much of a difference since she didn't have much offensive magic anyway. She was their healer, and when she refused to heal, the damage was done. Morrigan now had to heal as well as fight.

"Can a dagger really damage a golem?" Zevran was wondering, eyeing one of the towering husks. "But there should be some sensitive points on them, no? Some connectors... those shiny bits... perhaps I should try hitting that... and try not to get squashed in the process..."

Wolf, Alistair and Oghren took a golem each, with Zevran lashing at the fourth golem as best he could. Surprisingly, Oghren was the first to fall - the strongest warrior with the largest axe... but even he could not take more than a few hits from a golem.

"Circle around them, don't get hit!" Wolf shouted to Alistair, trying to deflect the freed up golem from Morrigan. Did he have enough healing potions to take him through that fight? It was hard to say...

"Use your blood!" Morrigan shouted through the noise of the battle. "Your dragon blood! Take life from the dead!"

May be not dead, but certainly knocked out... There was Wynne and Oghren on the ground, and a few darkspawn corpses a little further on. Ahem... Wolf never tried it before... "Should have tried it before..." he thought, but there was no time for hesitation. He focused on the people on the ground, suddenly seeing pools of energy around them - their life force. "I need that," he thought. His blood boiled - or at least this was how it felt - and suddenly he felt better. The pools around Wynne and Oghren reduced in size a bit, then started to replenish, slowly. He would not kill them if he was careful...

Morrigan was under attack. She had to focus all her spells on the one golem that decided to crush her, and with that she could no longer help the others. "That would be the end of us," Zevran reflected. He hit another shiny kink in the golem before him, cloaked and ran to Morrigan's. "I don't know if this will be enough... but I have to try." He put all his force into a single hit at the lower back of that golem, hitting a faintly glittering gem. The gem flared, suddenly emitting blinding light. The golem roared and raised its fists above Morrigan's head... the next moment she would be dead. "Nooooo!!!" Zevran lunged at the shining gem again, not really seeing his target but hoping it would be still in the same spot as before... The next thing he knew was a crushing blow coming down on him from behind - another golem had noticed his exploits.

...

"Rise and fight again, I command you!" An invisible force lifted Zevran from the ground and sat him upright. He opened his eyes and realised that he wasn't dead. The pain in his body was making a shrill trembling noise, or may be it just seemed that way... pain couldn't make a noise, could it? "Your fight is not yet done!!" He heard Morrigan's voice and saw Alistair on the ground and Wolf fencing against two golems at once, shielding Morrigan.

"The fight..." Zevran inhaled deeply. "Right. Coming, dear!" He was not dead, and the fight was not yet done.

...

"That was a hard one," Wolf helped Alistair up when the golems were finally defeated. Oghren and Wynne also rose from their knockouts. Morrigan dropped to the floor, exhausted.

"What do you want me to do about making golems?" Branka approached Wolf. "You saved my life, so I'll let you decide."

"It's up to the dwarves to decide," Wolf replied. "Grey Wardens will welcome what help you can provide, with or without golems."

"Golems it is, then," Branka's face was set. "Oh, I know - it's up to the Assembly. But they will do as I say."

Alistair sighed, looking somber. Wynne frowned.

"We survived," Wolf looked at them all. "I know some of you will object to the choice I made. I am glad you are alive and well enough to complain... but leave it until we're back at the camp, will you?"

Wolf and Zevran helped Morrigan up and led her to the camp between them, as she could barely walk, the others followed. The mood was dark and brooding, but everyone was keeping their objections until they had a chance to rest.

[Lena Wolf]

Midyear, 3E387 - Taking sides

"I cannot forgive you that you allowed Branka to live and make more golems," Wynne frowned when they got to the camp. "Their spirits will be tortured, stuck in those stone bodies."

"Are you sure?" Wolf squinted. "I know it was what you would call an immoral choice. But do tell how it is that you know about the torture of the spirits. I think there's more to your argument than just morality."

"Well... I suppose it's time I told you," Wynne nodded. "There is a spirit living inside me... It saved my life and it is through it that I am still living. It sustains me... I don't believe I could be alive without it. It does not impose its thinking on me, I am still my own person... for the most part..."

"Except when it comes to standing up for the spirits of those dwarves, the spirits that are going to be confined to stone bodies instead of their original dwarven ones," Wolf nodded. "I see. So how shall I address you then? Wynne or Spirit?"

"Ah..." Wynne shook her head. "I fear you are right. Spirit, in this instance, I think... But it is a good and benevolent spirit! Not like any of those demons!!"

"Oh, I am sure that's true," Wolf nodded. "Your mind is not clouded by excessive anger or thirst for knowledge or anything like that. But the Spirit inside you has an agenda, and when events here touch it, it takes over. Like now."

"I..." Wynne looked lost. "I think you are right... Did Morrigan tell you this? She noticed it a while ago already."

"Morrigan?" Wolf looked up. "I haven't talked to her about this yet..."

"But you two spend most nights together..."

"Well, we aren't exactly discussing spirits, if you know what I mean..."

"I know what you mean, young man," Wynne laughed, releasing the tension. "I was young once... and even after that... but never mind," she smiled at him. "The question you want to ask is of course whether the spirit inside me is going to be a problem, whether I am going to be subdued and taken over by it. I do not believe so. And as proof, I am going to completely ignore the fact that you made an immoral choice regarding the golems. I am clear-headed enough to see its strategic value, both for the Grey Wardens in the fight against this Blight, and for the dwarves themselves in protecting their kingdom from the ever present darkspawn in the Deep Roads. I only hope that Branka will be less willing to accommodate petty requests for golems and will stop before too many dwarves are sacrificed... and if anyone can stand up to a king, it is she... a stronger-willed woman is hard to imagine."

"Branka has a one track mind, but she is not evil," Oghren joined them, overhearing the last sentence. "I know it doesn't look that way seeing how she sacrificed her whole House... but I know her better than she knows herself. You'll see."

"I didn't like that decision either," Alistair was drawn to the conversation as well. "It's immoral. What Branka did turning her House into darkspawn... that's abhorrent! I can't believe you let her live!" He glared at Wolf.

"I let her live because the choice was between her and the old smith that had been turned into a golem," Wolf replied. "That smith had an agenda. He wanted to destroy his invention because it was 'evil'. He was ridden with guilt for what happened to too many dwarves, and he wanted to soothe his ego. Oh, Branka has an ego the size of the Empire as well, sure, but she wanted to raise the Dwarven Kingdom out of the decline. Between the two of them, I chose Branka because she is looking ahead while the old smith was looking back."

"Hmm... Well, it's done now..." Alistair shook his head. "I suppose if I wanted things to be done my way, I should not have let you be the leader..." He walked off, still shaking his head.

That night Wolf slept in his own tent. His choice of Branka and her golems weighed heavily upon him, even though he might have looked unwavering to the others. He had to make a choice and he made it, and now he had to stand firm as the others voiced their objections, even if many of them resonated with him, too. Stand firm, or else that choice would be undone, resulting in a loss of both choices.

...

"This was the last of the treaties," Alistair spoke at breakfast. He no longer looked torn, he too must have spent a sleepless night. "We have assembled the forces as best we could. We should return to Arl Eamon and tell him we're ready for the Landsmeet."

"Go to Arl Eamon, aye," Wolf nodded. "But are we ready? Have you decided whether you want to be King?"

"I have and I do not," Alistair drew himself up. "I might still be forced into it if... well... depending on what happens next... But my choice would be to remain a Grey Warden."

"Arl Eamon is not going to like it," Wolf shook his head. "He's been really pushing for your candidacy... Why is that, do you think?"

"Well, he is my uncle..." Alistair looked sideways. "While I do not believe that he would want the throne for himself, he does have a son..."

"And you have no children," Wolf gave him a long look. "Yet."

"And I won't have any, if I can help it," Alistair nodded. "Give it a few more years, and I won't be able to, anyway... the taint, you know. It destroys your body over time. Grey Wardens should not have children even while they still can because those children would be born tainted."

"Yes, producing more darkspawn is not something we should be striving for," Wolf smirked. "Seems wrong, somehow."

They laughed, then Alistair continued in a lighter tone.

"We'll speak with Arl Eamon, he will be pressuring me into taking the crown, I'd like to avoid it if I can, but ultimately I understand my responsibility... Ferelden needs a ruler. So if I have to, I'll give it my best... But I sure hope it could be avoided..."

...

The conversations that followed went just as Alistair had predicted. Arl Eamon was adamant that Alistair should become King, and Alistair kept rebuffing it. Finally, the day of the Landsmeet drew near and the capital was filled with nobility.

"The queen has asked you to come and speak with her," Arl Eamon addressed Wolf. "The late King's widow, yes. I expect she will ask for your support in crowning her as the new ruler of Ferelden. I hope you understand that you have to refuse. Alistair will be King."

"I hear you, Arl Eamon," Wolf nodded. "I'll go talk to the queen."

Wolf walked away, and Arl Eamon followed him with his gaze. "Hmm... He said he heard me... he didn't say he'd do as I asked..."

The queen was a very business-like woman. She had ruled the country from the shadow of her husband the late King because he could not stand all the boring details, as she put it. She had been a good ruler. People loved her as well as they loved their late King.

"It is in the best interests of Ferelden to maintain the same governance, especially with the Blight on our doorstep," she looked straight at Wolf. "Alistair is very much like his late half-brother: he hates the boring details. I would be a better ruler than he."

"So, why are you talking to me about this, exactly?" Wolf squinted. "Isn't it up to the Landsmeet? Isn't there going to be a vote to put one of you on the throne? I am an outsider in this."

"Yes, I noticed your foreign accent," the queen smiled. "Not an accent I recognise... What are you? You're not an observer, you're too close to it... Then what? An agent sent to meddle in our political affairs?" She squinted, but Wolf wasn't fooled - she didn't believe it herself.

"I am here to fight the Blight," he answered. "Not to meddle in your politics, no. I didn't want to meddle in the politics at Orzammar either, but there was no other way. I seem to have to take sides wherever I go, and Alistair being a prince does not help at all. He does not want to be King, by the way. But if there is even the slightest possibility of seeing him persecuted under your rule, you can forget about my support."

"I... thank you for your candid response," the queen said slowly. "Yes, normally the first thing I would do as a crowned Queen is behead him... to protect my throne, you see. Perhaps not so much from Alistair himself, as I believe you that he doesn't want it, but from his future children..."

"Grey Wardens don't have children, My Lady," Wolf shook his head. "The taint, you see... It would be a bad idea even if it were possible."

"Oh my goodness, yes, of course!" The queen exclaimed with a visible relief. "I had not thought of that... Well, that changes things, indeed! If I don't need to expect any royal bastards from him... then, I suppose, I could just lock him up in a tower instead," she beamed at Wolf.

"No."

"Oh, you are a hard man to please!" She pouted her lips. "Very well. I swear that Alistair will be left alone as long as he remains a Grey Warden and stays out of politics. And swears a public vote of allegiance to me, of course."

"Well... that sounds good and proper... but will you keep this promise, I wonder?" Wolf said softly. "You do realise, of course, that your father, General Loghain, will be executed."

"By whom?" The queen smirked. "If I am Queen..."

"By those whom he wronged," Wolf's voice sounded hard and cold. "You are the late King's widow, and you are a widow through your father's actions."

"I..." The queen swallowed hard. "But he is my father!"

"If you wish to be the ruler of Ferelden, you have to see justice done. He betrayed the late King and the Grey Wardens at Ostagar. He cannot be allowed to live."

The queen walked back and forth in the room, clearly in turmoil.

"I understand..." She finally spoke. "I shall not order his execution but I will not stand in your way if you do, before I am crowned..." She made an effort to control herself. "My promise to leave Alistair alone so long as he remains a Grey Warden, still stands."

"Very well," Wolf nodded. "We'll see how things go during the Landsmeet. But if Alistair's future in our Order is assured, I shall support your bid for the throne. That does require that Ferelden once again has an official Order of Grey Wardens, complete with a base and all, you understand..."

The queen remained silent for a moment, a searching look on her face.

"Who are you really, Warden?" She asked quietly. "This isn't your first negotiation... Does your Empire plan an invasion of Thedas?"

"No such thing," Wolf shook his head. "I told you the truth - I am here to fight the Blight. Stop it from spilling over... Our goals align on this, My Lady."

"And so it would seem," she nodded. "Well, it does fit with your requests, anyway. Ferelden should restore its Order of Grey Wardens that was lost... what..? some three hundred years ago?" She shot a glance at Wolf but he intercepted it. Grey Warden affairs were confidential and he was not about to divulge what they had learned at the Soldier's Peak. "Fine, don't tell me," she smiled. "I can see that you know that story, one way or the other... But the current Blight made it abundantly clear that we cannot afford not to have Grey Wardens here. I shall do as you ask."

...

The Landsmeet took place the following day. As expected, Loghain attempted to sway the nobility to crown him as the ruler of Ferelden. But too many chose to side with the late King, believing that it was Loghain's betrayal that led to disaster at Ostagar. Loghain's next move was predictable: he accused Wolf and Alistair of plotting to take over the throne, with Alistair as King and Wolf as the actual ruler behind him. "A puppet and his puppeteer", as he put it. That remark was his final mistake. Wolf declared it to be an insult, thus demanding to duel Loghain then and there. Heads turned - most people thought it was suicide. "Death by General Loghain," some whispered.

A duel was announced. They would fight until one of them yielded, or until death, as the case might be. The Landsmeet would then abide by the result of the duel.

Loghain was a serious opponent. A seasoned fighter in a massive suit of armour that he wore as easily as a chamber dress, against a lightly armoured Grey Warden with a small shield with a spike and a curious glittering sword. "The Warden stands no chance," was the verdict.

And then something unexpected happened - the Warden cut his wrist and a spray of blood hit his opponent, with a few drops landing on the skin. Loghain reeled in pain... and something else... Was that horror? No, horror came later, when the Warden lunged forward, his sword extended, the spike of his shield flying into Loghain's face and drawing blood... The old General was stunned - in all his years he never fought a Reaver before, nor a Berserker, nor a Grey Warden... nor a Dragonborn. "Use your blood! Your dragon blood!" Morrigan's words rang in Wolf's ears. "Dominate the battlefield!" His old Legate's words mixed with Morrigan's. "The Legion's Might stands behind you, Agent!" Wolf lunged and lunged again, his exquisitely sharp sword delivering blow after blow into the kinks of the General's armour, into the joints not even protected by a layer of chainmail, either out of concern for excessive weight or out of overconfidence... "Blood magic is wrong, except may be when it is used for all the right reasons..." He recalled overhearing a heated argument between Wynne and Morrigan. "You cannot accept just a little blood magic!" Morrigan retorted. "It's either all or nothing!"

"Krii Lun Aus!" The words rose in Wolf's mind, something he read on a wall in the tallest tower of an isolated castle back in Skyrim. "Kill, Leach, Suffer!" A death mark. A dragon rose before his eyes; was that the Archdemon? It was hard to tell, they all looked so alike... It breathed fire, but instead of burning, it filled Wolf's lungs with air, ready to be expelled. "Krii Lun Aus!" He shouted, and cracks appeared in the General's armour, sweat beads covering his forehead.

"Enough, I yield, Warden," Loghain sank to his knees and Wolf stopped his attacks. "I haven't witnessed such power since... well... in a very long time. I see now that Grey Wardens aren't just soldiers with a fancy name, after all."

"Grey Warden won the duel!" Someone declared. "Now, Warden, whom do you endorse as the ruler of Ferelden?"

"Ah, no, not yet," Wolf looked around. "General Loghain must see justice done first." The hall went quiet. Everyone held their breath, but no one objected either. "For his treason of the late King and Grey Wardens at Ostagar I call for an execution!"

The silence in the hall was so absolute, all could hear the queen's stifled gasp.

"Wait, there is another option," a third Grey Warden entered the hall. "I am just coming from Ostagar... we lost a lot of men," he looked at Wolf and Alistair, the last remaining Grey Wardens of Ferelden. "I propose we induct General Loghain into our Order. He could be a valuable ally."

"No way!!" Alistair's face contorted with rage. "No disrespect to you, Warden, ah, yes, I do remember you... but you weren't at Ostagar when we got overwhelmed! I stand by Wolf's call for an execution!"

The third Warden didn't insist. He nodded with sadness and stepped back, letting Wolf and Alistair take it from there.

"You do it," Wolf turned to Alistair. "For Duncan."

"Oh, I have no problem with that," Alistair pulled out his sword. "Not this time..."

He took a mighty swing and hit Loghain's neck just above the line of his armour. Justice was done.




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

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

[Lena Wolf]

Midyear, 3E387 - Friends

After Loghain's execution, the question of the next ruler of Ferelden was settled very quickly. Arl Eamon insisted it should be Alistair, but the queen put forward her own candidacy. The Landsmeet however reminded them both that it was up to Wolf to name the next ruler since he won the duel against Loghain. Wolf endorsed the queen, as they had agreed, and she demanded an oath of allegiance from Alistair renouncing any and all claims to the throne for himself or any of his descendents, should he have children later. Alistair was all too happy to oblige, sighing a huge sigh of relief. Arl Eamon too sighed a sigh, but that one was of disappointment. With Alistair's abdication of his claim to the throne, Arl Eamon's potential claim also became void.

"And now we must unite and stand against the Blight!" The queen rallied the nobles. No one needed rallying, really, but she did it anyway. Wolf still had a few errands to run in the capital, but was planning to leave for the rendez-vous within the next few days.

Running around the capital, they got intercepted quite a few times, mostly by bandits. "Someone really needs to clean up this town!" Wolf complained after yet another battle.

"Oh no, I got blood all over me again!" Zevran tried to wipe clean his expensive drakeskin armour. "Well... I suppose I'll just have to have it dyed in 'Blood Drop' next time..."

"Hello, Zevran," a person they hadn't noticed before, stepped forward from the shadows. "I couldn't believe it when they told me, but I see it is true - you defected."

"And so they sent you after me, you of all people!" Zevran smirked. "The Crows really have a sense of humour."

"Oh no, I volunteered as soon as this contract was issued. To bring down great Zevran..! How could I pass it up?" The man smirked and took a step forward. "But it doesn't have to be that way. I took this contract so that no one else would. Come back with me, Zevran. We'll make up some story, I don't care, everyone makes mistakes. It's not too late!"

"That would require the Grey Wardens to be dead, of course," Zevran straightened his back. "And that isn't going to happen. I won't fight you, Taliesen, you were my friend once... and more... but I see you've come to do the same to me that you did to Rinna. I therefore leave you to your fate."

Zevran sheathed his daggers and left. Taliesen attacked, revealing half a dozen of assassins hiding in the bushes. It was a tough fight, but nothing that Wolf, Alistair and Morrigan couldn't handle on their own.

"So, here lies Zevran's special friend," Alistair bent over the body of Taliesen when it was all over. "I wonder just how special... and who is Rinna?"

"Who was Rinna, I should rather think," Morrigan was looking over the bodies of the other assassins. "These are all Crows - there are marks on their armour. So Zevran's assassins guild finally went after him. They don't like loose ends, it appears."

When they were back at their lodgings that evening, Wolf found a quiet moment to talk to Zevran.

"I apologise for walking away," Zevran said seeing Wolf approaching. "But Taliesen was more than a friend... perhaps not the way you think... or at least not just that way... He was a slave like me, we grew up together. We are the only two recruits from that year who still live... Well... I am the only one left now..." Zevran paused, composing himself. "Rinna was a friend too, the three of us formed a Crows unit. We shared so much together... in romance, as well as battle. Then Taliesen spread a rumour that Rinna had been taking bribes from clients, and the Crows ordered her execution. It later transpired that she did no such thing, but she was already dead. I always wondered why Taliesen betrayed her like that, he knew what would happen... The Crows don't take any chances with rumours of such nature. An assassin's life is forfeit right from the start anyway... a bit like a Grey Warden's..." He paused and smiled, but Wolf did not interrupt. "I should have fought against him, I suppose... but I just could not bring myself to do it," he sighed. "Please forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Zevran," Wolf shrugged. "I am glad it's Taliesen lying dead there rather than you."

"Oh?" Zevran smiled with mischief, regaining his usual playful and mocking countenance. "Well, I like you too, friend! I'll resume staring now. I've once stared all seven skirts off a famous courtesan... it's a skill worth maintaining."

"Yes, I was wondering about that... Are you just practicing or what?" Wolf smiled too, relieved that the serious part of their conversation was over.

"That is entirely up to you," Zevran shrugged. "I am an assassin, my life may end any moment... I do not make lasting bonds, I have no deep feelings..."

"Aha," Wolf nodded. "And I am the Queen of Antiva."

"Well... You would make for a beautiful queen," Zevran grinned.

"Oh come off it!" Wolf laughed. "Very well, we'll speak of it no more. Glad to have you back as a friend, Zevran."

"The Crows won't stop though," Zevran became serious once again. "It will take a while but they will send someone else after me sooner or later."

"And we'll beat them up again," Wolf shrugged. "They should know better than go against the Grey Wardens..."

...

A few days later our party set off for the rendez-vous with the other forces. They were to meet in Redcliffe. There was no knowing where the Archdemon would direct the darkspawn army, but everyone assumed it would be somewhere in the South, not too far from Ostagar, and Redcliffe seemed like the logical choice. Its fairly central location was also perfectly suitable as a meeting point for the troops coming from all corners of the kingdom. Perhaps it was too convenient, however.

When our party arrived in Redcliffe, they found the village overrun by darkspawn and the castle stormed. They helped defeat that horde, of course, but the signs were worrying. Not as worrying as what was waiting for them inside, it appeared.

"I've just returned from Ostagar," an older Grey Warden held some papers. "I was there to retrieve Grey Warden records from the fallen fortress... Yes, another enchanted chest, like the one that held the treaties in the Korcari Wilds... I examined the battlefield closely, too. To have a record of all Wardens who perished there," he nodded to Alistair's question. "But also to get a feeling for what the Archdemon might do next... and where. I've been a Grey Warden much longer than you," he smiled. "The taint is running rampant in my blood... and I can sense the Archdemon better. He is going to strike at the capital."

"How soon?" That question was on everyone's lips. The capital was about a week away on foot.

"Soon," the Warden looked somber. "Sooner than we can get there," he looked around the room. "They will have to stand firm until we arrive. And I believe the Archdemon will be there as well."

"Then we must set off in a fast march first thing in the morning," Arl Eamon said decisively. "Everyone is here already, the forces are assembled... but in the wrong place. We must march to the capital then."

It was decided to take the remainder of the day and the night to eat and rest, as everyone would need their strength for a long march ahead and for the grand battle at the end of it. No one doubted a Warden's word any longer.

...

"We need to prepare for what is to come," the Warden called Wolf and Alistair aside after dinner. "Do you two know how to kill the Archdemon?" He looked at them with a question.

"We cut off its head!" Alistair offered. "Oh wait, that's not what you mean, is it?"

"So you know then," the Warden nodded. "One Grey Warden must sacrifice himself to kill the Archdemon, to bring down the final blow. A strategy is agreed before the battle to make sure that it is done. There're only three of us... I shall attempt to do it, as I am the oldest and the taint is already driving me crazy. But should I fail... One of you must take over. The Archdemon must be killed, even if all three of us die in the process."

"Which means that we must survive battles with darkspawn, or else there won't be any Wardens left to tackle the Archdemon," Wolf pointed out. "No heroics until we get to the dragon," he glared at Alistair.

"Oh alright," Alistair nodded. "I'll be careful... But how do we even get to a flying dragon? What if he doesn't want to land? What if he lands where none of us can reach him?"

"He won't," the older Grey Warden smiled. "I'll call him. Yes, it's the taint... With you, he just talks in your heads, but I can already talk in his," he smirked. "Which does not mean that it will be easy. My plan is however that as soon as we get to the capital, I shall go to the top of the tower in the guard fortress and call the Archdemon to me. I shall try to kill him there... Wish me luck."

"Then we shall make our way to that tower too," Alistair nodded. "As backup."

They looked at each other, then bowed their heads in memory of those Grey Wardens that fell before the final battle even started. They now knew what they had to do.

...

"Don't be alarmed, it is only I," Wolf heard Morrigan's voice as he entered his bedroom in the Redcliffe Castle intending to get as much sleep as he could before their lengthy march.

"Morrigan," he smiled. "We should rather get some sleep tonight... we've got a long march ahead of us."

"Oh yes, I agree, rest is important," she nodded. "And ordinarily I would not wish anything else on the last night before a march... but this is the last night with a decent bed before the final battle, and there's something I want to ask of you."

"Oh?" Wolf wasn't sure why, but this didn't sound like just another night with Morrigan.

"I know that a Grey Warden must sacrifice himself in order to kill the Archdemon," she started. "But I... don't want you to die," she smiled. "Not you, and not even Alistair, dim-witted though he is..." she sighed. "I am here to offer another way."

"Go on."

"Lay with me tonight and I shall conceive a child," she looked straight at him. "A child with a Grey Warden taint. Then, when the Archdemon is slain, its soul will seek out that child above all else. It won't kill it at such an early stage... but instead it will be transformed, purified. A soul of an old god... cleared of its taint."

"You want to give birth to a new Archdemon?" Wolf squinted. That didn't seem right.

"Not at all!" Morrigan shook her head vigorously. "No, it won't be an Archdemon, I am quite certain! It will be that old god whose soul was twisted and thrust into a dragon to make an Archdemon in the first place. This will end all Blights, you see? There will be no next Archdemon."

"How do you know all this?" Wolf sat down, this was rather a lot to take in.

"Flemeth's Grimoir," Morrigan produced the book. "The real one, the one she gave you to pass on to me. It's all here."

"You think she planned for you to do it right from the start?" Wolf squinted. "Is that why she sent you with us, you think?"

"I think she thought of that, yes," Morrigan nodded. "But whether she planned it... I am not certain. I think not - too many unknowns, you see..."

"But I am Dragonborn," Wolf shook his head. "I am supposed to be able to just absorb a dragon's soul and... hmm... I am not sure what, but likely not die."

"A dragon's soul - yes," Morrigan nodded, leafing through the book to find the right passage. "But the Archdemon is no ordinary dragon." She showed it to Wolf. "There is no guarantee you won't die."

Wolf sighed, looking at her.

"What makes you think you are not with child already?"

"That... hmm..." Morrigan frowned. "That cannot be ruled out," she agreed. "In which case it's already done. But if I am not with child yet... I have a way to make certain I shall conceive tonight."

"Witches..." Wolf sighed. "What will you do with the child?"

"Raise it," Morrigan smiled. "You will leave it to me to do as I please. You will not seek me out and you will never see that child."

"Will it even be my child? Or will it just be a demon of some sort?" Wolf felt like he was playing for time with these questions. He didn't even know why he was doing it.

"It will be your child, dear," Morrigan sat next to him. "It will be as much your child as it will be mine, I have no illusions. If it really takes on the soul of an old god, it won't be a child at all. Not yours and not mine, for that matter. I am uncertain how it will turn out. But it won't be another Archdemon."

"Well, since you may be pregnant already... why stop there," Wolf smiled. "Let's make it a night to remember, if only because it's the final night with a decent bed..."

[Lena Wolf]

Sun's Height, 3E387 - The endgame

The capital of Ferelden was under seige by darkspawn. The defenders had received word from Arl Eamon that the allied forces were on the way, and that gave them some hope that the Blight might still be repelled. Many fell, but the city still didn't surrender. The Archdemon was circling above it, fires burned everywhere, yet somehow Wolf felt it could have been far worse... So, what was the Archdemon waiting for?

"The Archdemon wants to win the war, not just take the capital," the older Grey Warden was saying to Wolf and Alistair. "He is holding back his forces, none of the darkspawn Generals made an appearance yet. But they will, as soon as we join the battle, you can be sure of that... More leadership, a better organised army and stronger fighters is what we shall find. Let's just hope that our Generals are better than theirs..."

"You should proceed to the guard tower as planned though," Wolf looked at the older Warden. "Before the Archdemon calls in all the reserves. We shall engage his troops in the city, and let's hope that he'll waste some of his Generals fighting us instead of defending him..."

"And we would at the same time waste some of our forces too," the Warden objected. "He has a far larger army, but if you kill off his Generals quickly, the final battle will be easier, no doubt." He paused in thought. "It's hard to say which is the better approach."

"Go to the tower," Alistair sounded resolved. "We shall take the fight to the Generals."

"By your lead," Wolf saluted, surprised with Alistair's sudden leadership.

...

The older Warden reached the top of the guard tower and stepped out onto the platform overlooking the city. There was fighting in every street. Darkspawn were strong, but the defenders were still resisiting, now with the fresh forces filling their ranks. Arl Eamon's knights, a dwarven legion complete with golems, scores of elven archers and a surprisingly large group of mages were joining the battle on all sides. "No hounds though," he sighed. "Raising a new generation of hounds would take time..."

Then suddenly he heard it - huge wings just behind him. The Archdemon had arrived.

Wasting no time, the Warden jumped onto the dragon's back and the dragon took to the skies. The battle would be high above the city. "Get to the head," the Warden started climbing up the dragon's body, using his daggers to anchor himself between the massive scales. The dragon was twisting and turning, trying to throw him off. "Not so fast, dragon," the Warden remained determined to bring him down. He reached the neck and started moving up along it, thrusting his daggers deep into the dragon's flesh. The dragon roared, feeling the pain.

The Warden was very close to the dragon's head. Rather than cutting it off, he planned to thrust his daggers into the skull instead. He could do it in the air. Yes, the dragon would plunge to the ground then, it was suicide, but it was a suicide anyway. He was close. Another push, and he would reach the head.

The dragon turned and twisted, one of Warden's daggers cut deep into his neck. Blood was gushing out of the open wound, red mist rose in front of the dragon's eyes, he could not see where he was headed... His tail hit a tower wall, the impact resonated through the body. The Warden planted his daggers deeper still. Another push... he was nearly there! He moved his dagger, thrust it hard and into the dragon's neck, pulling himself up on it. But instead, the dagger slid through the dragon's flesh cutting a long and deep wound, then slipping on the blood streaming from it... The Warden lost his grip of the dragon and was propelled through the air, falling hard to the ground somewhere on the city streets. The dragon roared with pain, flying almostly blindly, then landed on the top of the guard tower - the only platform out of reach of the battle.

"Look - the Archdemon!" Wolf pointed him out to Alistair. "Alive," he added somber.

"He looks wounded," Alistair nodded. "The Warden must have failed. It's our turn now, Wolf."

They rushed to the guard tower and found the dragon on the top. He had many deep wounds all over his body, and mostly on the neck. But even so, the Archdemon was far from dead, and he still had some of his Generals.

The battle on the top platform was truly epic. Wolf, Alistair, Zevran and Morrigan took on the dragon alone at first. The dragon was still able to fly, although not far, yet enough to make him a difficult target. He could hover over the platform and fly from one end to the other.

"Bows!" Wolf shouted to his companions. "Get him to land, target the wings!! It doesn't matter than none of you is a master archer... just keep firing!!!"

Alistair shrugged and pulled out his crossbow, Zevran sighed and swapped his daggers for a bow, too. He wasn't a master archer by any stretch of imagination, but his dexterity allowed him to use one of the best and most powerful bows around... and that counted for a lot! It wasn't hard to hit a target as large as the dragon.

When the dragon could no longer rise into the air, he called one of his Generals with a contingent of elite darkspawn troops. As they started appearing from the doors in the far corner, Wolf realised that these were not the same darkspawn that they fought before. These warriors actually deserved to be called warriors, they had purpose, determination and intelligence, as well as superior skill and strength. "Time to call for reinforcements!" Wolf thought, summoning the dwarven legion. This proved to be the right decision - although the dwarves were only a quarter in size compared to an average darkspawn soldier, they fought twice as ferociously and they had the stamina and the knowledge allowing them to win seemingly impossible battles. "They never stop fighting darkspawn," Wolf reminded himself, watching dwarven efficiency.

But the dragon made another call - a regiment of darkspawn battlemages appeared, with a General leading it, an Emissary General, that is, a mage. Although dwarves had a natural resistance to magic, they were forced to run around the battlefield trying to reach teleporting targets as they had no ranged weapons of their own. "Well, I hope you're stronger than you look!" Wolf called the elven archers, positioning them away from the darkspawn mages as best he could.

The archers were effective against teleporting targets - they didn't need to run around the battlefield. But if darkspawn knights got to them, they quickly fell.

"This is complete chaos!" Alistair stopped for a moment, watching the battle. "What are you going to do next? Call in Arl Eamon's knights?" He looked at Wolf.

"Umm... I think the dwarves and the elves will be enough, actually," Wolf shook his head. "Look - they finally learned to support each other. We need to turn our attention to the Archdemon. Ideas?"

"What about that ballista?" Alistair pointed at something in the corner.

"What ballista..?" It was only then that Wolf finally spotted two ballistas flanking the battlefield. "Why didn't you say anything before?!" He laughed. "Well, tell Zevran he gets to play with it while I go and annoy the dragon!"

"Tell Zevran..?" Alistair stopped for a moment, looking for Zevran. Where was he? Surely, he had seen him dashing back and forth just a moment ago...

"Zevran fell to one of the Generals!" Morrigan shouted over the noise of the battle when Alistair shouted to her that he was looking for Zevran. "He's over there somewhere!" She waved into the middle of the melee. "I can raise him but you have to lead the darkspawn away, or else Zevran will fall immediately! He will be quite weak to start with!"

"He isn't the strongest of fighters in the best of times," Alistair nodded. "Watch me and raise him when the time is right! Then send him to the ballista! That dragon has got to die!!!"

Alistair engaged a darkspawn Emissary General - a necromancer mage of very considerable power, surrounded by several darkspawn elite warriors for good measure.

"You cannot stand against a templar!!!" Alistair bellowed, planting his sword into the ground causing the stone to split and sending shock waves that stunned as well as stripped his adversaries of any magic effects. With the warriors temporarily out of action, he lunged at the mage, defeating him in just a few moves. Then he led away the warriors, trying not to get hit rather than attacking, his goal being to clear the area so that Zevran could be raised and not die in the process.

"Rise and fight again, I command you!!" Morrigan cast the resurrection spell. It wasn't necromancy, for Zevran wasn't dead - he had just been knocked out. The spell was a form of healing with Morrigan giving Zevran a health boost and waking him from unconsciousness. But she rather liked to make it sound more sinister and dramatic. "Use the ballista!!" She shouted. "Against the dragon!!!"

"Eh... what..?" Zevran shook his head, trying to remember where he was and what was going on. "Dragon? Oh, right! Dragon!"

Even the ballista wasn't going to kill the dragon in one hit. But the elves and the dwarves kept engaging the darkspawn, Wolf and Alistair held the dragon in one place and Morrigan put aside her hostile magic and focused on keeping them all alive... After a time the dragon finally stopped breathing fire.

"Now!!" Alistair charged. "Jump over me and get to his head!"

And as Alistair plunged his sword into the dragon's jaw, Wolf leapt on top of the dragon's head and buried his own blade in the skull.

The dragon roared. The sound was deafening. It covered the whole city, making everything stop. Darkspawn froze and stopped their assault. The battle was over.

Wolf couldn't move. He too froze on the spot, his hands on the hilt of his sword planted into the dragon's skull. Was he going to die after all? Did Morrigan's ritual not work? He felt the dragon's power passing through him, he was about to be overwhelmed.

Morrigan straightened up and faced the dragon. She could not move either. She watched a wisp of a spirit rise out of the Archdemon's chest in search of a new home. Several darkspawn Generals lay dead nearby, any number of elite darkspawn troops stood ready to receive the spirit and let the Archdemon be reborn... but the spirit wavered. Wolf and Alistair were both right by the dragon's head... would it enter one of them instead? Did her ritual work? Was she actually with child?

After a few moments the spirit rose higher, completely clearing the dragon's body. It floated past Wolf and Alistair, and although it responded to the call of the taint in their blood, it heard an even louder call from further ahead... A call from a taint so fresh, a being so young and pure...

...

"Are you alright?" Alistair was pouring healing potions down Morrigan's throat. When the shock of the dragon's final roar subsided, Morrigan was still collapsed on the ground, unconscious. The remaining elves and dwarves slowly returned into the city to clear what darkspawn still remained, but our party was too shaken for any further fighting.

"I... yes... I think I am in one piece," Morrigan sat up with difficulty.

"It worked, didn't it?" Wolf helped her up.

"Yes... how is it that we're both alive?" Alistair squinted at her.

"I'll tell you later, Alistair," Wolf shook his head. "Let's get out of here."

[Lena Wolf]

Sun's Height, 3E387 - The morning after

Celebrations went on for several days. Everyone was there, dressed in their best clothes over carefully bandaged wounds. Everyone except Morrigan. She vanished in the dead of night once she was well enough to walk. Wolf found a note among his things:

"It worked, I can feel it. You are alive, and Alistair too - this is the proof. I shall take good care of our child. Do not search for me... allow me this freedom, please. Perhaps fate will bring us together again, but if not, I beseech you - do not force it.

Your Witch of the Wilds."

Everyone had plans for the future. Ferelden would rebuild, and the Queen would make sure that Grey Wardens were never forgotten. Monuments were being erected, streets were named after them, a university was founded for the good of any and all. "Cheese for everyone!" was the word in the street, although no one really knew where that came from. Perhaps there was simply too much cheese around.

The Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden was reinstated, and the lands formerly belonging to one of Loghain's lieutenants were given to the Wardens to use as a base. Soldier's Peak was in that region, too.

"Those were the lands that used to belong to Grey Wardens before the events three hundred years ago," the Queen smiled when Wolf pointed it out. "Indeed. The lands had changed owners several times since then, but I thought it befitting that they should return to Grey Wardens. You can reopen Soldier's Peak, of course... but if I may make a suggestion..." She looked at Wolf and Alistair, and when they nodded, she continued. "There are several other keeps and fortresses there that are in a better state of repair, larger and more imposing. I would suggest you choose one of them. After all, you need a base that reflects your glory."

...

"I don't know if I can stand any more drinking," Alistair shook his head, finding it difficult to walk straight. "And this ceremonial armour... I am not used to anything quite so heavy!"

"But it's pretty!" Wolf laughed. "I feel the same, friend," he steadied himself. "Well, Commander, perhaps we should retire for the night?"

"No, you are the Commander," Alistair laughed. "Aren't you? I think you are. I'm pretty sure it's you rather than me... Umm..."

"No, wait - you are the Crown Prince!"

"No, I'm not!" Alistair shook his head and nearly fell over. "I gave that up! Poof! Gone! Good riddance! The throne is the one chair I don't want!"

"Oh, that's right," Wolf nodded. "Anyway... see you at breakfast."

Alistair made it to his room and closed the door. Wolf nodded to himself and took a swig from his hip flask. Then he shook his head, straightened his back and walked on, almost completely sober. He wanted to talk to Zevran first.

...

"Here for a nightcap, Commander?" Zevran greeted him. "Please, come in! You don't look drunk enough."

"No, I'd like to talk first," he entered and closed the door behind him. "It is a bit... delicate."

"Then you do want a nightcap," Zevran poured him a drink. "Antivan brandy. Known to stimulate conversation."

Zevran smiled in an entirely natural and neutral manner, without innuendos of any kind. Wolf wondered how he did it. Perhaps it came with age and experience, like most things... or perhaps it was a special gift.

"What do you intend to do now, Zevran?" Wolf decided to be direct.

"Stay alive," Zevran smiled. "The Crows will still be after me, and so I wondered whether your offer of letting me stay with the Wardens, still stood? I could be of use, you know."

"Of that I have no doubt," Wolf smiled. "Yes, the offer still stands. We shall be able to induct new Wardens soon enough..."

"Ah... if you don't mind..." Zevran interrupted him gently. "I don't actually want to join... Blood is not my favourite beverage, see... I would rather help from the backbenches, if that is still allowed."

"I see," Wolf laughed. "It's allowed. Not everyone who works with Grey Wardens is a Warden themselves. I am glad it's settled."

He got up to leave, then changed his mind and sat down again.

"What I am going to say next, may sound offensive," Wolf looked very uneasy. "If so, I apologise upfront... I don't mean offence, it's so awkward... I've never been in such a situation before... I just hope I won't lose you after this..."

"Go on," Zevran smiled. "I think I know what's on your mind."

"I bet you do..." Wolf smiled and fidgeted. "I know I said we would not talk of this again... but... err..."

"I am listening."

Wolf shifted in his chair, brought the brandy to his lips but didn't drink. It smelled of nugat, sugared roasted nuts, and something else... "Like Elsweyr in Skyrim..." he thought and sat down his goblet without drinking. Then he spoke again.

"I like women, see... I've never been with a man, I never wanted to..." He paused, not looking up. "I don't think I want to now, either..." He sighed. "But..." He sighed again and shot a glance at Zevran, but Zevran remained completely neutral, sipping his brandy and waiting for Wolf to proceed with his difficult speech. "The way you look at me... I like it," Wolf finally managed to say. "May be not to the point of... you know... actually getting down to business... But if I were to describe what I think of you, I'd say you are more than a friend." He sighed a sigh of relief, but wasn't finished speaking yet, and Zevran still remained silent. "It's confusing... I never felt this sort of thing towards any woman either... I want to stay close to you even if... that involves something I've never done before... Does that make sense?" He blushed and finally took a sip of his brandy. Sweet, heavy fragrance rose up his nose and opened his mind.

"It makes perfect sense, my friend," Zevran smiled. "And I am not offended. Flattered, if anything. That you found the strength to tell me this, that you felt at ease to do it... Well, sufficiently at ease, at least," he smiled again. "I shall keep following you around and remain your friend, and yes, I shall keep staring since you like it... But I am not one to force anything onto anyone, fear not... And I daresay I can tell when something is going too far. There is no rush, and I like women too. So yes, you can strip off in my presence and be at ease doing that."

"Good," Wolf smiled, taking another sip of his brandy. "This is excellent stuff, by the way..." He sniffed it again, took another small sip and rolled it in his mouth. "It's been a long day, and this ceremonial armour is killing me. Please help me take it off - the buckles are on the back... I can't actually get out of it without someone's help..."

"Practical, as always," Zevran laughed, helping Wolf out of his guilded cage. "Oh look, your clothes are covered in blood, some of the wounds must have re-opened. Let me help you undress without removing your skin..."

It took them a while to get all the bloody clothing off and change some of the bandages. Zevran's touch was gentle but not prying, and Wolf quickly relaxed.

"There're some clothes in that chest, if you wanted something so as not to walk through the castle naked," Zevran pointed at a chest, picking up bloodied clothing from the floor and moving the armour into a corner. "They might not fit you well as they're mine, but it would probably be enough..."

A snore was his answer. Relieved from the weight of the armour and from the pain and discomfort of bleeding wounds and chafing dry bandages, Wolf collapsed on the bed and was asleep in seconds.

"Another time, then," Zevran smiled. "Sleep well, friend."

He nestled next to Wolf and blew out the candle. It had been a long day.

...

"Did you two..." Alistair stared at Wolf and Zevran when they appeared in the breakfast parlour together the next morning. "I saw you on the bed... when I... umm... never mind..."

"Someone had to get me out of that armour," Wolf shrugged. "How did you get out of yours? The buckles are on the back!"

"I called the maid..." Alistair said and blushed for some reason.

"No, we didn't," Wolf looked at him sternly. "Now, what's for breakfast?"

...

"You have to explain to me how it is that both you and I are alive," Alistair looked at Wolf quite sternly. "Commander of the Grey," he grinned. "So since there are only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden and you are the Commander, then I must be your First Lieutenant, and as such I have a right to know..."

"Captain of the Guard," Wolf interrupted him. "That makes you the Captain of the Guard. We've got no guard yet, but you get the title..."

"Don't try to avoid my question," Alistair insisted.

"Well... err..." Wolf shook his head - this was probably even more difficult than talking to Zevran the night before. "She is with child. My child. A Grey Warden's child... It appears that the Archdemon's spirit sought out that child rather than one of us."

"WHAT?!" Alistair jumped up and was pacing around the room. "Do you even understand what that means?! She is going to give birth to a new Archdemon!!!"

"No, in all likelihood she won't," Wolf tried to remain calm. "An Archdemon is no common dragon, or I would have consumed his soul... err... I guess I never told you I could do that, either... But it didn't happen."

"You... what..?" Alistair froze, staring at Wolf. "I've heard her call you that - Dragonborn... Flemeth called you that... I never paid attention to it, I was too busy avoiding becoming a King, I guess... Perhaps we should just forget I brought it up! I don't want to know! That's why you hesitated back at the Temple in Haven... You drank that dragon blood... You've been using blood magic all along... You sired a child with the Witch of the Wilds... and then spent a night with a Crows assassin... whether or not you actually... oh never mind... Let's just forget I said anything, alright? You're the Commander of the Grey, you can do as you please, and it is none of my business, none of it..."

He kept talking, shaking his head, confused and disappointed, all at once.

"Alistair," Wolf got up and touched Alistair's shoulder, making Alistair jump and freeze. "Sit down. You are right, I should have told you a lot more right from the start. Even if it shocked you. It isn't as bad as it looks."

When Alistair finally regained his composure and sat down, Wolf tried to make it as short a speech as he could.

"I am an Agent with the Imperial Legion of Tamriel," he decided to start from the beginning. "That's a rank above Captain. I do field work... usually on my own. I was sent here to learn about the Blight because our Emperor wants to be prepared, should it spill over. They chose me because I am Dragonborn..." He paused, watching Alistair, but Alistair was listening without interruptions. "I am not a dragon," Wolf smirked. "I am 'dragon kin'. Some blood connection, I am really not sure... But my Legate thought that it would allow me to survive the Joining because they knew that the Archdemon was a dragon too. Yes, I was always meant to join the Grey Wardens and go all the way fighting the Blight... Duncan knew of it. This had been all pre-arranged."

"I had no idea..." Alistair said softly. "Duncan only said we would be getting an experienced warrior from overseas..."

"I was never meant to lead the Grey Wardens," Wolf nodded. "There were never meant to be just the two of us left..."

He paused and they sat in silence for a minute or two. Then Wolf continued.

"A Dragonborn is said to be able to consume a dragon's soul when a dragon is slain," he watched Alistair who was listening with rapt attention. "I've never done this. I have never seen a dragon before... There are no dragons in Tamriel... not anymore... The first time I saw a dragon was when the Archdemon talked to me during the Joining." He shuddered, remembering the shock and horror he felt then.

"No one forgets that," Alistair nodded.

"So. I always thought that I would simply consume the Archdemon's soul when the time came... but things are more complex than that."

"The Archdemon is no mere dragon," Alistair nodded. "I read that somewhere, now I recall. It is an old god, apparently. Twisted and tainted by the darkspawn... Which would mean that it is the darkspawn who create an Archdemon to lead them... That's a frightening thought..."

"Morrigan read about it in Flemeth's Grimoir," Wolf continued. "That the soul of the original old god could be purified and cleared of its taint if it were to seek out a being not yet fully formed... Such as an unborn child. Morrigan's child will not be an Archdemon."

"So she was being 'friendly' with you all this time because she was trying to get pregnant..?" Alistair whistled.

"Well... not really..." Wolf smiled. "She only got the Grimoir after we already... a good few times... no, I think she wasn't trying to get pregnant then."

"I never understood what you saw in her," Alistair shook his head. "She's a blood mage!"

"That she is not," Wolf shook his head. "Although I would not be surprised if she'd learn it some day... I just saw a woman rather than a mage and an apostate," he pointed out.

"Alright, there's no accounting for taste, as they say," Alistair inclined his head. "So, what now? She vanished."

"She wanted her freedom," Wolf nodded. "I am not going after her. Not yet and not on purpose, anyway," he winked.

"Speaking of blood mages," Alistair looked straight at Wolf. "You went out of your way to save the blood mage who poisoned Arl Eamon. You supported Avernus back at Soldier's Peak. You drank his concoction. Then you drank dragon blood in Haven - and thank goodness you didn't destroy the Urn of Sacred Ashes! You've been cutting your wrists and spilling your blood, you've been taking life from the dead, you made your enemies cower in pain just looking at you... I've seen the signs, I'm a templar, you know. You are a blood mage. And yet you are no mage... That... is confusing."

"On that we agree," Wolf nodded. "Confusing. This is all blood magic, true, because it's got to do with blood... The Grey Warden taint is blood magic. In Tamriel we believe that every person has magic in them, to some extent. Every person has blood. So when I cut my wrists, the blood that spills over my enemies works its own magic... I cast no spells and cannot explain it beyond that."

"Hmm... The Chantry preaches that blood magic is pure evil..." Alistair looked uncertain. "Yet.. hmm..."

"Yet they use it to track down apostate mages?" Wolf smirked. "Yeah, I noticed that. Every child with a gift of magic is taken to the Tower of Magi for education. Every child surrenders a sample of his or her blood that is kept by the Chantry. And then, should that child decide to 'defect', to escape, to run away... How do templars find that child, exactly? You're a templar, you tell me." It was Wolf's turn to pin Alistair with his gaze.

"The same way as hounds follow a scent," Alistair answered slowly. "The Reverend Mother performs a ritual... using the mage's phylactery... A small sample of the blood is given to the templar... not to drink but to know... yes... That's blood magic, alright!" Alistair got red and angry.

"Performed by the Chantry for the good of the people," Wolf spit and swore. "And you wonder why I considered destroying the Urn of Sacred Ashes? The Chantry doesn't take me in."

"But you didn't destroy it," Alistair calmed down. "Why not?"

"It's like I said - it is too important to a lot of good people," Wolf shrugged. "It's a symbol of all that is good and holy, even if the institution that upholds it is nothing of the sort..."

"Alright," Alistair shook his head, putting that topic aside. "Templar skills are still useful to have," he rubbed his chin. "And I am no longer in the Chantry..." He smiled. "But Zevran?" He looked up. "An assassin? You spared him first, and then... good grief, Wolf! And I thought you liked women!!"

"I do," Wolf grinned. "Zevran is... rather special, though," he paused. "An assassin, if not by choice at first, but he is now an assassin through and through, that's for sure. Rather like you being a templar... You cannot stop either. But I have no issues with assassins... As an Agent, I've had missions of various kinds..."

"But you serve your Imperial Legion," Alistair pointed out. "Not some guild that takes on contracts for money."

"We work with assassins guilds as well," Wolf smiled. "They are impartial... that is often a huge asset. I asked Zevran to stay with us Wardens for a while. He is still being hunted by the Crows, you know, and we're still very short of men, even though the Order had been reinstated... It's still just you and me."

"Well... he does fight well..." Alistair sighed. "And he did right by us... I guess I cannot complain... Will he be taking the Joining?"

"I don't think so," Wolf shook his head. "Zevran is an elf who loves to stay alive. His natural life span runs into a millennium... But the Joining would cut it down to fifty years. The taint would kill him, as it kills every Grey Warden after a time."

"I... see," Alistair nodded slowly. "I never thought of it that way... Of course for us humans it isn't such a big deal, fifty years is such a long time... but for an elf... gosh... There are elves among Grey Wardens, of course... their sacrifice is beyond imagining..."

They talked for hours. Alistair wanted to hear about Tamriel, about magic running in every man and woman, about elves and assassins, about romance too... and Wolf obliged, not shirking away from any topic, uncomfortable or not. He was determined to restore Alistair's good will and genuine support. The two of them were still the whole contingent of the Order of Grey Wardens of Ferelden, and each of them felt that although the Archdemon was dead, darkspawn was still on the rise.

[Lena Wolf]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This concludes the story told in Dragon Age: Origins, but the story of Wolf Asgarsen is not yet complete. The darkspawn problem has not gone away, new trouble is brewing and he cannot leave as yet. Plus, he has a few personal loose ends to tie up, too.

There was one expansion to the game known as Dragon Age: Awakening, which takes place some months after the end of the Blight. After that there's a short story of looking for Morrigan... Did Wolf break his promise and went after her against her wishes? Or was it just a stroke of fate? We'll see.

I noted before that I introduced Anders as the mage who poisoned Arl Eamon, replacing the character actually doing it in the game. I feel that this fits much better with the story that is still to come, which will be altered a bit accordingly. This is fan fiction - I do not necessarily retell exactly what BioWare wrote. You'll need to play the game for yourself to see what happens to your Grey Warden. My story traces just one path, one of many, which is a great thing about BioWare games.

This story continues with an intermezzo entirely of my own making. Of course, in the original story the Warden did not come from Tamriel... Also, although we import our saves into subsequent games, our old heroes hardly make an appearance. I aim to change that. Since Wolf Asgarsen is stuck in Thedas, he is not going to just sit there twiddling his thumbs. He will go to Kirkwall next, as the events that take place in Dragon Age II indeed occur some months after the end of the Blight - it is all in fact one story. So it is only natural to see familiar faces coming back in it. Dragon Age: Inquisition is to follow after that, although I won't delve into it quite as deeply as I've done with Origins. Perhaps this says something about my attitude towards that game. And then, with any luck, Dragon Age: Veilguard will be released in November, and we'll have to see what that one is like. However, that being a new game, I won't be retelling much of it in order to avoid spoilers, but instead I shall likely build my own tale inspired by the game. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I do apologise for the frequency and length of the last few episodes, but you don't have to read them as I write them. For me, however, it is important to post them as they are written, and these last ones were quite intense to write. Especially considering the parts that went "between the lines" that I played out in my head but did not include into the story.

And now, without further ado, as they say... hehe... The story continues.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Lena Wolf]

Sun's Height, 3E387 - Anders

The celebrations of the end of the Blight were finally fizzling out, and Wolf and Alistair were allowed to leave the capital. Not that they had been held prisoners before, but as the Heroes of the day, they were being called everywhere, people stopped them in the street, everyone wanted a chat, a note, an autograph... They simply had to stay for the duration.

"I can't wait to get back to killing darkspawn," Alistair was lamenting. "This is far worse!"

"Such is the weight of the glory, my friend," Wolf smirked. "We need to please the gentry though, we'll be relying on their support..."

Eventually, however, they could return to the business of being Grey Wardens.

"What are your orders, Commander?" Alistair addressed Wolf in a rather official fashion. "You're the head of the Ferelden Order, you better get used to it," he grinned. "What do you want to do?"

"Well, it will take some time for the lands that had been given to us, to actually change ownership," Wolf looked though some papers. "Bureaucracy, you know. So until then... Say... how do you feel about travelling? Have you ever been to the Central Head Quarters? Somewhere up North?"

"No... but why would I need to go there?" Alistair looked unsure.

"The treaties and papers that the old Warden collected from Ostagar," Wolf put a heavy chest on the table. "Grey Warden documents. They need to be delivered to the Head Quarters. Plus our account of how things went... Loghain's betrayal, the decimation of the Order of Ferelden, the unwillingness of the gentry here to allow Grey Wardens from other kingdoms to join the fight... This is important stuff. This must be relayed and preserved."

"And you want me to take it there," Alistair nodded. "Agreed." He paused. "Did you know that Duncan was the head of the Order in Ferelden? Such as it was... He was a Commander, but he never used that title because the royalty here did not allow for an official Order of Grey Wardens to exist..." He shook his head. "It is so bizarre."

"I didn't know it, no, but I surmised as much," Wolf nodded. "So go. Take this all to the Head Quarters. Make sure every detail is known and recorded... including the story of Soldier's Peak... It's history now, of course, but has history judged correctly who was right or wrong?"

"With Avernus still alive..." Alistair agreed. "I bet the First Commander would want to hear from him!" Alistair made some notes, then looked up. "But what are your plans? Not leaving us, I hope?"

"Not leaving, no," Wolf shook his head. "I'll find someone to take my report to Tamriel... Once I'll have written it," he winked. "A ship brought me here, there will be a ship going back, no doubt. The story so far needs to be told, but we both know that darkspawn are not gone and our jobs are not yet done. I'll stay at Soldier's Peak, it's nice and quiet there... But first there's a matter of Anders."

"The blood mage?" Alistair frowned. "I thought you turned him over to the Circle? It's up to the First Enchanter now what to do with him."

"Yes," Wolf nodded. "But I still want to follow up on that..."

"Oh alright, if you must," Alistair shrugged. "But what you see in him, I shall never know..."

...

A few days later Wolf, Zevran and Bob the Mabari hound travelled to the Tower of Magi to inquire about the fate of a blood mage named Anders. Wolf's heart was heavy, he feared for the worst.

"But why do you care for this blood mage so much?" Zevran gave Wolf a long look. "What's so special about that particular mage? There're plenty other mages around, blood or otherwise..."

"I know that," Wolf nodded. "I just... part of it is hard to explain, and part of it is simple: I got to know him a bit, I have a feel for his character. He may be a blood mage, but he isn't a bad sort... there is no evil in him, just misguided youth... And we need a blood mage... umm... I need a blood mage... because of my... err... affliction."

"You mean the Grey Warden taint?" Zevran looked up in surprise. "That sounds strange."

"No, I mean my dragon blood," Wolf returned his glance. "I've been cutting my wrists and my blood has powers... yet I am no mage. I have no clue what is happening half of the time... I need someone with the knowledge to guide me, yet not to lead me somewhere I don't want to be..."

"And you think that a youngster who got himself into a tremendous mess, is going to be a suitable guide???" Zevran stopped in surprise. "Are you sure you're thinking straight, my friend?"

"Oh, my thinking is tainted, no doubt," Wolf nodded. "But I've got you, don't I, to set me straight?" He smiled. "Zevran, I cannot explain it any better... but I want to save Anders, if I can."

"I see you need me more than I thought," Zevran grinned. "Alright. Lead on, Commander."

...

"Commander, it is an honour," the Knight-Commander of the templars stationed at the Tower of Magi greeted Wolf as he entered. "Is this for conscription or are you just on a social visit?" He squinted.

"Err... social, I should think," Wolf hesitated. "How are things? The tower seems quiet..."

"We've cleaned it up," the Knight-Commander made a wide gesture. "See for yourself - no traces of that ugly fleshy growth anywhere... It took us forever to get the smell out! But other than that, most mages died either during the uprising fighting all those demons, or during the battle in the capital... The First Enchanter drafted pretty much every able-bodied mage and apprentice for you!"

"Those mages will not be forgotten," Wolf bowed his head. "We, Grey Wardens, keep records of anyone who died fighting the Blight. There were even some templars among the troops, I noticed..."

"Fewer than I would have liked," the Knight-Commander blushed. "But we are under the Chantry's command, you know... We've had orders..."

"Ah. Say no more," Wolf stopped him. "Grey Wardens do not wish to meddle into the affairs of the Chantry."

The Knight-Commander nodded and smiled but didn't immediately reply, looking at Wolf with his penetrating gaze.

"Did you want to speak with the First Enchanter?" He finally asked. "He should be in his office. Go on, you know the way. We don't need to accompany the Commander of the Grey, I'm sure."

...

The tower was eerily quiet. Wolf noticed a few mages here and there, practicing spells or leafing through books in the library, and next to every mage there was a templar on duty. They just stood there, but it was enough. Even children playing in the common room, were under observation.

"Commander, welcome!" The First Enchanter rose when Wolf entered the room. "Business or pleasure?" He looked at Wolf with apprehension, noting Zevran and the dog, and greeting both.

"It's Wolf, please," Wolf smiled. "After all we've been through... just call me Wolf."

"Ah... here to ask a favour then," the First Enchanter smiled back. "About the blood mage, am I right? Well, he still lives."

"Have you decided what to do with him?" Wolf held his breath.

"Oh, it isn't up to me, I am afraid," the First Enchanter looked sad. "Arl Eamon wants him executed, but the Chantry wants to show 'mercy' and make him tranquil... You know what that means, don't you?"

"I do," Wolf nodded. "I also know that Anders would prefer an execution."

"So what do you plan to do?" The First Enchanter squinted and Wolf felt as if the old wizard could read his mind. "He is a blood mage, you know, of some considerable power... There is no telling what he is capable of..."

"But isn't he still an apprentice?" Wolf recalled Anders telling him that the First Enchanter kept delaying his graduation.

"He is, technically... Which delivers his fate to the Chantry. Had he been a qualified mage, things would have been different indeed..."

"But he went into the Fade and killed that demon that was possessing the boy!" Wolf started losing hope.

"Oh, there's no doubt in my mind that he is fully qualified," the First Enchanter nodded. "He passed that exam with flying colours... Is that why you sent him into the Fade? So that I and the senior mages could witness it?" He smiled. "I thought your trust was perhaps misplaced... but it seems I was wrong. Unfortunately, since that wasn't an official exam..."

"Bureaucracy," Wolf nodded. "I understand..."

"His phylactery is still here, at the Tower," the First Enchanter noted casually. "But I would not advise trying to destroy it because the Chantry has another. It's very easy to collect a few drops of blood lost by a blood mage, you know..."

"May I see him?"

"He is in the dungeons, suit yourself," the First Enchanter nodded. "Do you not wish to exercise your right of conscription?"

"Not now and not directly," Wolf smiled. "I have to see him first. Last time I saw him, he was so weak, he would have never survived the Joining."

"It seems to me, this is what the Chantry is hoping for," the First Enchanter lowered his voice. "With all the fanfare and denouncing of blood magic to follow. He is still weak. Too weak."

"I hear he escaped from this tower a dozen times already," Wolf said in an equally low voice. "Is that true?"

"Oh yes, everyone knows that... They also know that he'd always been caught quickly and brought back into the fold... Until he turned to blood magic, that is," the First Enchanter looked up and down the corridor. "He evaded the templars for so long through illusion and hypnosis..."

...

The Knight-Commander was reluctant in allowing Wolf to see Anders. The dungeons were under templar control, with no one going in or out.

"Well, may be," the Knight-Commander shook his head. "But you leave your hound and your... err... companion here," he took in Zevran's outfit, noticing a small crest of Antivan Crows on the armour. "There's a templar on duty down below, you won't need a bodyguard," he smiled.

"I have no doubt," Wolf smiled pleasantly. "And thank you."

As Wolf descended into the dungeon, he noticed not one but several templars posted along the way. The Knight-Commander was not taking any chances. Wolf found Anders asleep on his cot, with the cell door securely locked. It took some talking, but the templar on duty finally agreed to unlock it, waking up Anders who looked like he didn't remember where he was.

"Anders, can you see me?" Wolf touched his hand and Anders jerked. "I am Wolf, the Grey Warden."

"I recognise your voice," Anders nodded and smiled. "I cannot see very well... it's so dark in here... isn't it?"

"When was the last time you ate?" Wolf looked around but didn't see any food or drink.

"Ate? Oh... yeah, I ate something at some point..." Anders made an effort to sit up. "They are making sure I don't die before the... you know what they are planning for me?"

"I do."

"Well then..."

Wolf took Anders' wrist searching for a pulse. He felt some old scars under his fingers. The pulse was there, but it was weak and erratic. He then wrapped Anders' hand over his own scarred wrist.

"Feel that?"

"But you are not a mage..."

"Tell me about a way out."

"Ha... If I could walk..." Anders gave a short laugh. "But wait... what are you saying?"

"Is there a way to get you out of here without alerting the templars?" Wolf pressed Anders' hand to his wrist. "And can you do your ritual quietly and without a staff?"

...

Zevran and Bob were loitering in the entrance hall of the Tower of Magi waiting for Wolf to return. How long was he going to take? When would it be too long? Suddenly Bob became restless.

"What's the matter, boy, do you smell a rat?" Zevran scratched behind the dog's ears. "I do too, as a matter of fact..."

It had been too long for a simple visit, especially since the First Enchanter had said that Anders was still too weak. Wolf was up to something, and Zevran could well imagine what it would be.

"Do Mabari hounds really have a connection to their master?" Zevran wondered, watching Bob pacing about. "I think the dog needs to go outside for a bit," he addressed the templar at the door. "Do you have designated dog walking grounds around the tower?"

"Just take him outside, I don't care," the templar shrugged, breathing in sharply.

...

It didn't take long for Bob to track Wolf's scent to a sewage exit at the back of the tower. Zevran noticed that although the tower was on an island in the middle of a large lake, there were rocks in the water going all the way to the other shore. Crossing them upright would be suicide of course, but if one were to swim under water... Oh yes, that could be done. The question was whether Anders was in any condition to do so. Zevran removed the grate and saw two shadows clinging to the mossy walls of the tunnel.

"I told them the dog needed to go out," Zevran whispered. "Sound carries here... Can you swim?"

"How..?" Anders started asking, then cut himself off. "Let's go. I took just enough blood to get me to the other shore... After that you'll have to help me."

They swam across, only coming up for air briefly and as little as they could afford. Even the dog swam under water. They found some bushes covering the shoreline on the other side, they clambered out and crawled at first, then ran, with Zevran and Wolf practically carrying Anders between them... Their horses were too far away to call.

...

"So, how many times have you done this, in fact?" Wolf was trying to convince Anders to perform another blood magic ritual to boost his strength. "I volunteer! You haven't killed me yet and another cut will not kill me for sure."

"I... I haven't actually taken anyone else's blood before..." Anders looked uneasy.

"But if you don't do it now, this will all have been for naught," Wolf insisted. "Soldier's Peak is still far away and we have no horses. If we stay here, the templars will catch us and..."

"Sshh... Someone's coming!" Zevran shushed them, his superior hearing picking up some rustling noise and what seemed like the sound of hoofs. They had stopped for a short rest in a small cavern out of the way, but perhaps the spot was not secluded enough for someone who knew the area... "Lay low and shut up!" He hissed at them, as they all hid behind the rocks blocking the entrance.

Heavy breathing and panting approached the cavern - a hound or a wolf. Sounds of hoofs followed... horses? The hound was digging at the rocks by the entrance. Were these templars, here to take Anders away?

Wolf pulled out his daggers - there was no room for a sword. He pushed Anders back into the dirt and touched Zevran's shoulder - if they surprised the templars, they stood a chance. Zevran nodded and readied his blades. The sound of hoofs was approaching. Two horses. So, two templars. It would be tough but they could do it. Take out the dog first - Mabari hounds could overwhelm.

They waited for the templars to dismount. The horses stopped, they could hear their breathing, and the dog kept digging at the stones by the entrance. Yet they heard no voices, no clanking of armour, no thumps of heavy boots landing on the forest floor... No templars? Wolf had never seen templars wear anything other than heavy armour, if these were just wearing robes, that would be a first.

Zevran shrugged - he could not hear anyone either. Not even the softest step of the stealthiest rogue... So... what did it mean?

The dog finally managed to dig out one of the rocks. The dog's hot breath and low growl filled the little cave. Zevran raised his dagger - the moment the dog pushed through the opening, he would slit its throat.

Suddenly, the dog stopped digging. Coming so close to the opening, that Wolf and Zevran could see its teeth, the dog made a small, squeaky noise like a puppy calling to its mother...

"It's Bob!!" Wolf hissed as loudly as he dared, signaling Zevran to stand down. "He brought our horses!"

[Lena Wolf]

Last Seed, 3E387 - Escape

Although it was still summer, Soldier's Peak was covered in snow. Located high in the coastland mountains, it kept its cool all year around. It was an old base of the Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden, abandoned for the past three hundred years. It was in fact Wolf and his party who helped an old wizard dispell the haunting magic. That old wizard was still living there, the oldest Grey Warden of Ferelden, Avernus. Wolf refused to judge him for what happened so long ago, antagonising Wynne with his decision. But Wolf's position was clear: he was a Grey Warden, his loyalty lay with his Order and he refused to be bound by the currently prevailing morality. Once the fortress had been clensed, the Grey Wardens claimed it once again, and the descendents of the old Commander were glad to make it their home. They were no Grey Wardens, but a fortress needed people to tend to it too, and the Drydens were happy to assume that role. Their great-great-grandmother, Commander Sophia Dryden, had been judged harshly by her contemporaries, resulting in the dissolution of the Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden. The whole Drydens clan suffered for centuries as a result. With the fortress reclaimed, however, they found a new home and a new purpose, that of assisting the Grey Wardens in rebuilding their Order once the Blight was defeated once again.

It was to Soldier's Peak that Wolf and Zevran were bringing Anders from the Tower of Magi. They had just two horses between them, and anyhow Anders was too weak to ride on his own. They propped him up on the saddle behind Wolf and told him to hold on tight.

"Anders, are you awake?" Wolf called out when he felt Anders' grip slipping. "Watch out that you don't fall!"

"Huh?" A sleepy voice replied. "I... I'm awake, I think..."

"He's exhausted," Zevran moved his horse closer. "We'll have to strap him to you. Let's hope you won't have to jump off the horse until Soldier's Peak..."

Anders was too weak to object. They strapped him to Wolf's back and continued.

Twice they had to stop and it was up to Zevran and Bob to deal with the bandits along the way.

"You have excellent armour!" One bandit called out. "It will look better on me!!"

Zevran smirked and dismounted. Wolf picked up his crossbow. Bob charged the nearest bandit. It wasn't that hard to put them down; the hardest part was to calm the horse so that it wouldn't throw them off.

"Do you see this crest?" Zevran knelt over the bandit that wanted his armour. "Crows send their regards. I'll let you live, so you could tell the others. Do not cross me again."

They rode through the night without stopping, not wanting to risk getting caught. Anders went limp, but Wolf could feel his breathing behind him and knew that he wasn't dead. Finally, in the afternoon of the following day they reached the mountains surrounding Soldier's Peak and started their ascent just as the sun was setting. The air was growing colder by the minute, and Anders' breathing became shallow.

"Anders is cold," Wolf stopped his horse, not asking Anders himself as he didn't expect a reply. "The ascent is still long, we need to wrap him up better."

"He is past wrapping up," Zevran checked Anders' pulse. "He's passed out. He is cold and needs warming up, or else hypothermia will get him. Strip off."

"Whaa---?" Wolf's surprise made him slip into his native Nord accent. "Why?"

"Your body heat will keep him alive," Zevran smiled. "We'll strap him to your back, then wrap up both of you together. Let's hope it will be enough... He'll survive frostbite on his toes, if it is only that."

Several hours later two riders and a dog appeared in the courtyard of the Soldier's Peak fortress.

"Who goes there?" Someone challenged them over the barking of the dogs.

"Grey Wardens," Zevran replied loudly and clearly. "Home at last."

It took some doing to unwrap Wolf and Anders and to carry Anders inside, still unconscious. A warm bath was prepared and a cot was placed by the fire. The news that the Commander himself would be staying at the keep for the foreseeable future, spread through the fortress within minutes of their arrival, and despite the late hour, every inhabitant of Soldier's Peak came to welcome them home.

"We weren't expecting you, Commander, your rooms aren't ready!"

"I'm so sorry, we only have stew for supper! But we shall make sure there's roast tomorrow!"

"My goodness, we're out of buns! You can't have the Commander of the Grey just eat plain bread!"

"Where is the wine? Don't give him mead, that's for common folk!"

"No, actually, I'll have the mead!" Wolf tried to cut through the chaos of everyone talking at once.

Eventually children were sent to bed and adults calmed down, with most of them retiring for the night. Two women were still fussing over Anders, rubbing salves into his pale body and lamenting his starving looks.

"He looks like he's been starved for half a year at least!" One of them exclaimed. "Poor boy!"

"Perhaps not quite half a year, but several months for certain," Wolf tried to think how much time had passed since they first met Anders in Redcliffe. It seemed like a lifetime ago. "I just hope that he wakes up..."

"That he will," the older woman got to her feet, putting away the jars and bottles of remedies. "He's got some frostbite but he will live." She looked him over another time and tucked a blanket around him. "Now, what about you, Commander?" She looked sternly at Wolf. "Those wounds won't close if you keep scatching off the scabs..!"

...

It had been several days, and life at Soldier's Peak finally calmed down. Anders indeed woke up eventually, weak but alive, and happy to be out of the dungeon. Wolf made it a point to meet everyone in the keep, including young children and dogs. Bob found the kennels and chose to stay there rather than with humans. Things were looking up.

"Do you hear from Avernus at all?" Wolf asked Levi Dryden, the man who led them to Soldier's Peak to begin with.

"No, he keeps to himself," Levi shook his head. "We leave food for him by the door to his tower, but we don't go in. He takes the food... I wonder how he survived all this time, locked up in there... Surely, a man must eat, even a wizard..."

"I don't think he was locked up in there," Wolf pointed out. "Remember, when we first came here, there was a seal around the keep to hold in the demons, but Avernus' tower wasn't in it. It has a way into the caverns... He must have used that. A man must eat, as you say... I should go and say hello."

...

"So, the Grey Warden returns!" Avernus greeted Wolf when Wolf pushed the door to his tower. "Here for the summer?" He grinned.

"The Order has been reinstated," Wolf started with the most important news. "And the Blight is over, but you knew that already, of course."

"Yes, I felt it," Avernus nodded. "Remarkable how it works... So, how many Grey Wardens does Ferelden have now?"

"Three," Wolf shrugged. "Yourself included."

"Three?" Avernus squinted. "So, who killed the Archdemon?"

"I did."

"And yet here you are, alive and well, standing before me..." Avernus looked Wolf over, head to toe. "Interesting... You'll have to tell me about that, in detail... Very interesting indeed..." He paused, making mental notes. "So, what is it you wanted to ask?" Avernus grinned, seeing Wolf's surprise. "Oh, I cannot read your mind, don't worry. I just read your face. So let's hear it."

"I brought a mage with us... a young blood mage..." Wolf started cautiously. "He'd been starved for several months and is very weak..." He paused, searching for words.

"But..? I assume you tried all the usual remedies."

"He is not improving," Wolf looked worried. "In fact, despite the food and rest, he seems to be withering away, and quickly."

"And you want me to have a look?" Avernus picked up his staff. "Let's go then. There are several things I can think of..." He rubbed his chin. "A blood mage, you say? Hmm..."

...

When they entered the common room of the keep, they heard loud voices and clanking of heavy armour.

"We are here in the name of the Chantry to arrest an escaped apostate and maleficar that you are harboring! He cannot hide behind Grey Wardens!" An angry woman spoke in a commanding tone. "I demand you hand him over at once!"

"There is no one here who answers that description," the older housekeeper was standing her ground. "This is private property belonging to the Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden! You can't just barge in like that with your demands!"

Wolf took in the scene at a glance. Templars evidently tracked them down and were now demanding Anders' surrender. Three templars stood in the room, but were there more outside? Wolf noticed Zevran behind the door, blades at the ready.

"I am the Commander of the Grey," Wolf stepped forward. "You will leave these premises at once. These carpets have just been replaced, I want no blood stains on them. If there's anything you want to ask of me, do it outside!"

"You are harboring a fugitive! An apostate! A blood mage!"

"All three of them?" Wolf squinted, mocking. "Out!" He drew his sword and pointed at the door.

To his surprise, the templars obeyed. "They have reinforcements outside," he shook his head. Zevran stepped from behind the door. "Shall we?" Wolf shot a glance at Avernus - his face was set in resolve. Three against how many? Not as many as an army of darkspawn. They'd manage.

...

"You fight like a bleeding Archdemon, Commander!" The templar commander was on the ground, begging for mercy. "You can keep your apostate - he isn't worth it!"

"The bleeding Archdemon did not survive, so take heed," Wolf withdrew his sword from her throat. "The Chantry has no power over Grey Wardens."

"But he isn't... Oh never mind!" The templars were scrambling to their feet. "We'll say you invoked the Rite of Conscription!" She grinned, then gave a short laugh. "He will never survive the Joining. Good day to you, Commander."

...

"She's right, you know, your young friend is too weak," Avernus turned to Wolf after he examined Anders. "I can boost his strength of course, but that isn't the solution. We have to find the cause of his decline... besides starvation, that is. Now, did anything out of the ordinary happen in the past few days?" He asked Anders. "Did they give you anything unusual to eat or drink? Any strange magic cast upon you?"

"There was nothing unusual to eat, no... and templars don't cast magic..." Anders was trying to remember the last few days in the dungeons. "Well, I did have to boost my strength through blood so that we could escape..."

"Whose blood?" Avernus looked up sharply.

"Commander's..."

"A Grey Warden's blood?!"

"I didn't want to! But he insisted!" Anders protested.

"Oh, I don't mean it like that," Avernus softened his tone. "But a Grey Warden's blood is tainted. You have taken in some of the taint through your ritual. You are no Grey Warden yet, but if you want to live, the path lies through the Joining."

[Lena Wolf]

Evening Star, 3E387 - The Blight isn't over

Several months have passed since Wolf and Zevran brought Anders to Soldier's Peak. Avernus boosted his strength and Anders survived the Joining. The Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden now had four members.

"I understand why some recruits do not survive the Joining," Anders was musing one day. "Other than being physically too weak to absorb the taint... It's mental resistance that some might be lacking. When the Archdemon talks to you and makes you an offer to come over and join darkspawn instead..."

"The Archdemon made no such offer to me," Wolf shook his head. "And which Archdemon are you talking about? The Blight is over, there is no Archdemon... is there? No dragon has been talking to me in my sleep for a while."

"Err... that is... disturbing," Anders stared at Wolf. "I thought it was the Archdemon... a great big dragon, no? Unless... hmm..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless it was a different being that took the shape of a dragon to make me listen..." Anders rubbed his chin. "The Joining takes you into the Fade, you figured it out, I suppose?" He looked up and Wolf nodded. "Yes... Nothing is as it seems in the Fade. So it wasn't an Archdemon, so soon after the previous one was killed... But then - who was it?"

"I don't know and I don't like it," Wolf frowned. "I feel something too... The darkspawn have not dispersed as they should have done. Someone else is leading them now. The darkspawn army will make another move!"

...

"Vigil Keep is the oldest fortress in this province," a young female knight was telling Wolf and Anders as they were approaching the Keep. "The previous land owners used it as their home too. It would make for a very good and imposing base for the Grey Wardens Order. And anyhow, it needs to be secured, whether you make it your base or not."

The walls of an ancient fortress were already visible up ahead when a man out of breath was seen running away from it.

"Are you Grey Wardens?" He managed to say. "The Keep has fallen! Darkspawn are everywhere and everyone is dead!!!"

"Except for you, obviously," Wolf steadied the trembling man. "Who is 'everyone'?"

"The other Grey Wardens! The ones that had been sent ahead of your arrival! Grey Wardens of Orlais!" The man collapsed at his feet, exhausted.

"Hmm... Grey Wardens of Orlais, of all places..." Wolf shook his head. "Orlais, the kingdom that had enslaved Ferelden for over a century. Didn't the previous king perish trying to free Ferelden? Wasn't Loghain his General, the General who won that war? Didn't Alistair make it all clear to the Head Quarters?" Wolf shook his head again. "And they send us Grey Wardens of Orlais! I'm not so sure it was darkspawn that stormed the Keep and not just a bunch of angry locals!"

"Err... perhaps we should just go and see, eh? Commander?" Anders spoke softly.

"Yes, you're right," Wolf snapped out of his spell of indignation. "Prepare for battle though."

As they approached the Keep, they found the gates open and darkspawn battling the Keep soldiers in the courtyard. Darkspawn, not angry locals.

"What happened?" Wolf tried to get a feel for the situation from one of the soldiers.

"We got overwhelmed!" He breathed heavily. "All the Grey Wardens are dead! I think..."

"You think?"

"I don't know for sure, I stayed outside! The darkspawn are coming from the Keep!"

"From the building?" Wolf found it hard to believe. "But how..?" He shook his head, intercepting a glance from Anders. "Oh never mind, let's go and see!"

The Keep was indeed overrun by darkspawn and their corpses were everywhere. If the Grey Wardens were dead, they didn't go down twiddling their thumbs. Yet where were their bodies? Wolf couldn't see any Grey Wardens among the fallen. There were darkspawn and soldiers, but no Grey Wardens... how odd.

They fought their way to the battlements where more fighting was still ongoing. A darkspawn General was holding a knight at the tip of his sword... a Grey Warden knight. Wolf lunged at the General without thinking.

...

"I thank you, Warden Commander," the knight bowed his head when the fight was over. "I am no longer as strong as I used to be... which is why I was given this post - I am the seneschal of this Keep, a glorified housekeeper, really..."

"I think you acquitted yourself formidably, Seneschal," Wolf smiled, looking over heapes of darkspawn corpses covering the battlements. "Those were overwhelming odds. But tell me - how did it happen?"

"I don't rightly know, Commander," the Seneschal shook his head. "They came from the Keep itself... overwhelmed us during the night... Some of the Grey Wardens simply vanished, while others fell in battle. The Keep does have basements that go very deep... and there's been talk..."

"We'll investigate the basements later," Wolf changed the subject. "But how is it possible that the Wardens didn't sense the darkspawn approach? We always do, that's why we drink their blood during the Joining!"

"I don't rightly know," the Seneschal looked apologetic. "I am sorry."

"Alright, we'll figure it out," Wolf smiled. "Let's finish clearing the Keep."

They went through the remainder of the Keep clearing darkspawn, but didn't see any new arrivals. It really seemed as if they got what they came for and withdrew. There were only a few Grey Wardens that fell in that battle, the rest seemed to have vanished.

"I've never heard of darkspawn taking prisoners," Wolf was saying with worry. "Is this some sort of new type of intelligent darkspawn? What do they want with the Wardens?"

"I don't know and I don't like it," the Seneschal agreed. "We'll need to investigate. But in the meantime, we have new arrivals! The Head Quarters sent us new recruits."

"I wasn't sent by no Head Quarters!" A familiar voice sounded behind Wolf. "Commander, eh? Well, I'm here to join!"

"Oghren!" Wolf spun around, recognising the dwarf they met in the Deep Roads. "Clad in the armour of the Legion of the Dead, no less. And reaking of booze, as always."

"Old habits never die," he grinned. "Yes, I joined the Legion for a short time, but then decided I'd be better off with you. I spent too long on the surface, they kept teasing me about being a surface dwarf, that I betrayed the Stone and all that... ugh..."

"Then welcome," Wolf smiled. "I'm sure you'll do just fine at the Joining."

"I am here to join as well," the guide that brought them to Vigil Keep spoke up. "I am a knight with the Royal Guard... and... well... I got bored..."

"Then join the party, girl!" Oghren laughed out loud. "Like, what are you doing tonight?"

"Eewww..!"

...

The Joining ceremony was solemn, as usual. Oghren drank the entire contents of the chalice and the Seneschal had to prepare a fresh mixture. The young knight didn't fare as well though - she did not survive.

"It would have been better for her to remain bored," Oghren said with regret.

After the ceremony, the first order of the day was to investigate the basements, then the dungeons, then talk to the tradesmen, the weaponsmith, the armourer, the greengrocer, the... treasurer?

"I was sent by the Head Quarters to assist you," a very stern looking ageing woman addressed Wolf and he felt being back in junior school with his school mistress telling him off for skipping his homework again. "I shall control... err... manage your funds."

"We need more Grey Wardens! Warriors! Archers! Mages!" Wolf rolled his eyes. "And the Head Quarters sends us an accountant?!"

"Such are the orders of the First Commander," the woman answered firmly.

Their days were filled with tasks, even including fighting darkspawn. Anders was fully recovered and proved to be a talented mage. He still used blood magic but never took anyone else's blood but his own. He focused on healing magics and learned to raise people knocked out in battle, but he never made it sound like a necromancy spell.

"It doesn't actually matter what you say when you cast a spell," he shrugged when Wolf told him that Morrigan used a different incantation. "It's just something to focus your mind. I prefer to say something nice instead."

"So what do you say when you slit your wrist for a blood ritual?" Wolf squinted.

"Ouch - it hurts!"

...

"Oh look - this is a silverite mine!" Oghren pointed out ore deposits in one of the caves that they came across. "It proves that this area is connected to the Dwarven Kingdom!"

"Why? Because it's got an ore vein?" Anders squinted.

"No, because I said so!" Oghren snapped at him. "Remember what we found in the basement of the Keep? An exit into the Deep Roads!"

"Yes, that explains where the darkspawn came from," Wolf nodded. "It doesn't explain where they've gone to and what they've done with the Grey Wardens that vanished. But I suppose we should explore this mine..."

The mine was eerily quiet. There was no darkspawn, no spiders and even no rats. It looked as if the miners simply went home for supper, yet a fine layer of dust over everything indicated that no one set foot in that mine for a very long time.

"I don't like it," Wolf frowned. "I cannot sense any darkspawn, but I know they are nearby... They must be..."

They walked on, turned a corner, heard something snap... and felt the ground fall away under their feet, taking them into the depths of a dark and ominous chasm...

[Lena Wolf]

Evening Star, 3E387 - A new kind of darkspawn

Wolf, Anders and Oghren woke up in a locked cell of an underground fort. They were stripped of their armour and weapons and left just with plain clothes on their backs.

"What is the meaning of this, I wonder?" Wolf got up and looked through the bars.

"Those bastards stole my hipflask!!" Oghren exloded in swears. "We've got to get out of here!"

"On that we agree," Wolf nodded. "But this lock is too hard to pick."

"And you have no lockpicks," Anders pointed out.

"And I was never good at picking locks," Wolf had to admit.

"Oh, stand aside, you whimps..." Oghren stepped back, then took a run at the door, crushing into it like a wrecking ball. The lock screeched and clicked and the door flung open. "I don't need no lockpicks..." He snorted.

The fort had a complicated layout of old halls, cells, cave-ins and earth tunnels, and in every section there was darkspawn. Corpses, too - humans, elves, dwarves. They were either stripped naked or only wore simple clothes, and it was impossible to tell who those people were or what they did in life.

"Some of them may be our Grey Wardens," Wolf peered into their faces. "If they were captured like we were... but to what end, I wonder?"

"All these people are infected with darkspawn taint," Anders pointed out. "Look at the marks on their skin... These corpses have been here for different lengths of time, some are already quite decomposed, while others are very fresh..."

"Stop talking about them as if they are ham!" Oghren snapped. "You're making me hungry."

"They also all seem to have been tortured... or experimented upon..." Wolf examined a fresh corpse. "Look - needle marks and small cuts..."

"Like the cuts we make for blood rituals," Anders nodded. "But... darkspawn are mindless creatures, aren't they? So who is the scientist?"

They got so engrossed in their investigation that they didn't hear darkspawn approach.

"Hey! That darkspawn's got my junk!!!" Oghren bellowed, spotting one wearing his armour. "No one steals Oghren's junk and lives!!!"

As they moved further, they came across other darkspawn in possession of their things, which they liberated. What was rather more disturbing, however, was that some of the darkspawn were no darkspawn at all. They were people infected with the taint, but they were no mindless ghouls. They fought with intelligence and determination...

"...like they were Grey Wardens." Wolf dropped to his knees by the body of one such person that they finally defeated. "You didn't know who we were, did you, Brother?" He closed the dead man's eyes, realising that the man was a man no longer - whatever experiments were performed on him, turned him into darkspawn, but one with superior reasoning and skills. He was not controlled by anyone, the way an Archdemon controls his Generals. Instead, this man was controlling the darkspawn. "Someone here is building an army," Wolf got up. "And if he isn't an Archdemon, than who is he and what does he want?"

Yet, besides more darkspawn, they did not find anything else, and certainly got no answers. Then, in the final hall, they saw a strange being on the balcony. He resembled a demonic abomination but had less disgusting fleshy growth; he also resembled darkspawn, but with a less revolting look. There was intelligence in his face, and he wore an elaborate, if bizarre, vestment - an armoured robe, perhaps, or a breastplate with tails... An elf and a dwarf stood at his side, each infected with darkspawn taint, but neither was a ghoul. They nodded to each other and the man clapped his hands, calling forth two drakes that were nesting under the high vaulted ceiling. Our party was not meant to escape.

"These dragons don't look nearly as big as the one I met in the Fade!" Anders exclaimed, readying a spell.

"These aren't dragons!" Wolf shouted, loading his crossbow. "These are drakes! Lesser dragon kin! But they'll kill us all the same if we don't focus!"

"So focus!" Oghren bellowed. "Leave the biology lecture for after supper! Arghhhhh!!!!"

Two drakes presented a very significant challenge. Oghren charged them without fear and took most damage, getting knocked out several times during the fight. Anders had his hands full watching and reviving him again and again. Wolf ran out of enchanted bolts for his crossbow and switched to plain ones, but they didn't do nearly enough damage. He then started dipping them in poison, throwing acid bombs, even tried laying traps... But that took time and it was hard to predict where a drake might land, and as a result it was Oghren who got caught in the traps rather than the drakes.

"Stop running around and cut your wrists!" Oghren shouted over the screeching of angry drakes. "I saw you do it before! Horror or pain or whatever you unleash with that! Do it!!!"

"I don't know how to choose..." Wolf started to object, but one of the drakes landed nearly on top of him, pushing him to decide quickly. "Let my pain be yours!!!" He screamed, cutting his wrist. A spray of blood shot from the wound, hitting the drake square in the chest, it shrieked, as if it too received a wound. "It worked!" Wolf quickly rolled from under the drake and took up his sword. "You won't fly again!" The drake was still cowering in pain, and Wolf jumped on top of him, going for the wings.

"That's the way!!" Oghren ran over and together they finished off a nearly immobilised drake.

What came next, was completely unexpected: Wolf collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

...

"Blood magic is a dangerous thing!" Wolf heard Anders' voice in the distance. "Oh come on now, time to wake up!"

He sat up, looking around. The two drakes lay dead, Oghren was "applying medicine" from his hipflask and Anders was applying bandages on all three of them.

"What happened?"

"You shared your pain with the drake," Anders looked up. "But that didn't absolve you from that pain yourself. On the contrary, you were losing blood and taking punishment. The more punishment, the greater the effect, and that's what defeated that drake so quickly. But you didn't stop in time... You died with that drake too."

"I died?!" Wolf cried out, thinking it was a bad joke.

"Yes, I had to resurrect you," Anders nodded. "There's a small window after a person dies, during which time a Spirit Healer might repair the damage and coerse the person's spirit to return into the body..."

"Save your lectures for after supper, mage," Oghren had had enough of the learned talk. "You raised him, and he isn't a ghoul, that's good enough for me. Let's get out of here."

It was only then that they looked up to the balcony where they'd seen that strange being with two companions. They were still there, watching. Wolf got up and wanted to say something, but the being slowly shook his head and turned around to leave, signaling his companions to follow. Wolf's first impulse was to go after them, but there was no obvious way to get to the upper level, and if there were any more drakes ahead, they would not survive. With a sigh, he turned to the door - it was time to return to Vigil Keep.




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

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Oct 9 2024, 05:21 PM

[Lena Wolf]

Evening Star, 3E387 - Mother and Father

"Kristoff went to Black Marsh," Wolf finished reading the journal of one of the Grey Wardens that had been sent to Vigil Keep ahead of them. "At least he didn't get kidnapped by the darkspawn like the others..."

"What's in Black Marsh?" Oghren squinted. "I heard stories... the place is haunted."

"And so it is," Wolf nodded. "That's why Kristoff went there. Someone told him they saw darkspawn coming from there, so he went to investigate."

"And he hasn't returned," Anders noted with caution. "This doesn't bode well..."

...

Black Marsh was a swampy area to the East of Vigil Keep. It used to have a village and a mansion, and life there was rumoured to be good and prosperous in spite of the soggy ground. It was in fact that soggy ground that provided the wealth - peat was a valuable commodity. But several years ago something happened, some kind of a supernatural blast. It ignited the peat and both the village and the mansion went up in flames. People tried returning to the marsh, but they kept hearing voices, and rumours spoke of strange deaths and disappearances... But perhaps those were just rumours. Regardless, the place was declared lost, and even the peat could not attract anyone any longer.

"Well, it must be haunted because here's the sign saying so," Oghren smirked when they approached the entrance to the area. "It does look awfully dark and dull in there, like they have a different weather or something..."

The area was deserted. The village and the mansion were but burned out husks, all trees were charred and electrical charge hung in the air.

"Whatever happened here, tore holes in the Veil," Anders declared, sniffing the air. "Perhaps not big enough to let a horde of demons through... But that peat was ignited by magic, I am certain."

"And here comes darkspawn!!!" Oghren bellowed, noticing a group of darkspawn emerge from under the ground. It wasn't that hard to put them down, but more and more kept coming, there seemed to be an endless supply. The darkspawn seemed to push them onto a clearing. Once they reached it, darkspawn stopped coming.

"This must be Kristoff!" Wolf noticed a body of a man among all the darkspawn corpses. "He fell in battle."

"Yes, the Mother's plan worked," a darkspawn emissary stepped forward. "The Mother knows best..."

"A talking darkspawn..?" Oghren was taken aback. "That can't be!"

"The Mother wishes to talk," the emissary addressed Wolf. "Talk with Grey Wardens. Come, I take you to the Mother."

"Did she want to talk to Kristoff as well?" Wolf squinted, unsheathing his sword. "And who is she, anyway? A broodmother, perhaps?"

"The Mother wishes to hear the Song again," the emissary replied. "The Father wishes to kill the Song... The Mother wishes to kill the Father."

"The Father must be that other being we met in the silverite mine," Anders said quietly. "They are both after Grey Wardens... I don't like it."

"I don't think the Mother wishes to talk at all," Oghren took up his battleaxe. "Talking or not, he's still darkspawn. I say we kill him."

"No, I must take you to the Mother!" The emissary exclaimed and cast a spell... The world around them whirled and twisted, and a moment later they stood on dry ground in Black Marsh, and it was nothing like the Black Marsh from a moment ago.

"This is the Fade," Anders looked around. "Is the Mother in the Fade?"

"The Fade! The Mother is not in the Fade! The Mother tricked me!" The darkspawn emissary looked angry. "I shall find a way out and kill the Mother!"

"We should find a way out too," Anders pointed out. "Before our bodies back in Mundus die of starvation."

"And thirst," Oghren nodded, taking a swig from his hip flask. "It just doesn't taste right..."

As they walked around the Fade version of Black Marsh, they met many villagers that must have lived in the real village. They seemed to have recently realised where they were, and they gathered around the mansion to demand that the baroness living there, would send them home. The baroness, however, just laughed.

"She is possessed by a Demon of Pride," a spirit approached them. "I've watched it long enough... I am Justice. I do not meddle in the affairs of mortals, but this has gone beyond that. I shall help you oust the baroness," he looked at the crowd.

Cheers followed, and the gates were breached. The baroness appeared on the steps of her mansion and a battle ensued. Wolf didn't even have time to consider whether he wanted to join forces with a spirit or not... suddenly there was a demon to battle, and he had no choice.

They could not defeat the demon, not even with their combined might. Half way through the battle the demon cast a spell, the world whirled and twisted and they stood in the Black Marsh again.

"Well, at least we're out of the Fade!" Anders got up from the ground, patting his robe. "It could have been worse, I suppose..."

"Where am I?" They heard a voice behind them. "What is this place?"

Kristoff's dead body rose from the ground, animated by a spirit within.

"Justice?" Anders took a cautious step forward. "What are you doing out of the Fade and in Kristoff's body?"

"I... I do not know," the spirit sounded disturbed. "The spell that the demon cast... it affected me as well... but I have no body in this world... Kristoff, you say? Ah, the man whose body I inhabit... I have his memories... It hasn't been long since he died... He was a Grey Warden, like you... all of you..."

"Can you get back to the Fade?" Anders seemed fascinated by the spirit in Kristoff's body. "What are you going to do?"

"I... I do not know..." The spirit looked lost.

"Well, Kristoff was a Grey Warden, and you are in his body," Wolf decided to be practical. "We fight darkspawn. We defeated the Blight, but something is afoot and darkspawn are not withdrawing. If you have no better plans, join us until we figure out how to get you back to the Fade."

"Plans..? I have no plans... But your cause is just, and this world so strange and unfamiliar... I shall join you, Warden."

"Why do I feel that I am going to regret this?" Anders muttered under his breath but didn't say anything aloud.

And thus Justice became a rather odd member of the Grey Wardens. Upon reflection, he found a lot of similarities between the Fade and the mortal world, and soon he felt less lost or confused than before. Still, the body he inhabited was dead and started to decompose. It had to be returned to Kristoff's widow for burial, too. But once again the situation was forced by a darkspawn incursion.

An army of horrific new darkspawn attacked a city near Vigil Keep. At the same time a more conventional army of darkspawn flooded the countryside. It was as if the Blight had restarted all over again.

"So much for trusting Morrigan!" Alistair spoke angrily. "That witch betrayed us, Wolf! The Archdemon must have been reborn! You are still alive because the Archdemon lives as well!"

"I am not so sure it's the Archdemon leading them, actually," Wolf shook his head. "Did you learn anything interesting at the Head Quarters? The orders of the First Commander were strange indeed... sending here Grey Wardens of Orlais at first, and then following up with an accountant? An accountant???? What on earth are they thinking?"

"I... well... bureaucracy, you know..." Alistair shuffled his feet. "They didn't want to hear any reports... I had to write it all down, and they filed it away without reading..."

"Well, that explains a lot!" Wolf scowled. "At least the documents will be safe there... safer than being stored in an enchanted chest at Ostagar... Although I see now why Duncan chose a chest to start with..."

"Yeah..." Alistair sighed. "So, it's up to us again then. What shall we do, Commander?"

"We fight darkspawn, what else?" Wolf grinned. "Come on, we have a city to defend!"

They rushed to the city under siege, clearing darkspawn along the way. They made a good dent in the darkspawn army and things started to look up, when suddenly another talking darkspawn emissary arrived on the scene in between the fighting.

"I bring a message from the Father!" He shouted. "Hear me out!"

Wolf signaled the soldiers to hold their fire and the emissary continued.

"The Mother is sending an army much bigger than this to the Vigil Keep! She wants to wipe out all Grey Wardens! The Father wants to help the Wardens! He gives you directions to the Mother's lair! Hurry! Save your Keep! Kill the Mother!"

"Who is this Father and Mother?" Alistair looked dumbstruck seeing a talking darkspawn. "What is going on?"

"New kind of darkspawn," Wolf replied quickly. "More dangerous than ever before. There seem to be two factions..."

"Both are darkspawn and need to be killed!" Alistair squinted, ready to charge the emissary.

"Yes, but we do not know how to reach the Father," Wolf stopped him, then addressed the emissary. "We thank you for the message," he said calmly. "We shall take the fight to the Mother, but not before we have cleared this city. Vigil Keep has its own defenders, the city does not."

"But Grey Wardens must not die!" The emissary objected. "Grey Wardens must save the Keep!"

"Grey Wardens defend the land from darkspawn," Wolf shook his head. "We stay."

"What shall we do with the messenger?" The City Guard commander asked Wolf, ready to charge the emissary.

"Let him go," Wolf shook his head. "He needs to return to the Father with our response..."

It didn't take too long to clear the city of darkspawn, and Wolf and his party rushed to Vigil Keep. The Keep however was completely surrounded by a sea of monstrous creatures - far more monstrous than the usual darkspawn.

"The Mother's army," Wolf said to Alistair. "Darkspawn like we've never seen it before. If we engage them here, we'll die, we are too late to join the defense of the Keep. Our best bet is to go after the Mother."

"And if she is indeed the one directing this army, the battle will end soon after her death," Alistair nodded. "Let's go. The emissary's information better be correct!"

...

As they approached the location of an abandoned ruin high in the mountains, they started seeing more and more of that new type of darkspawn - the Mother's army. It seemed they were on the right track. The further and deeper into the ruin they went, the more darkspawn they saw. The battles were heavy, and they wondered what was still to come.

"The Mother is a broodmother of some sort," Alistair theorised. "She seems to be laying eggs... These darkspawn seem to develop from fat worms into flesh eating bugs into... I don't want to think what the final form will be like!"

"Something most unpleasant, no doubt," Anders agreed, trying not to inhale too much stench and not succeeding. "Why does this stuff have to smell so bad?"

"Don't think of it - just squash them!" Oghren smashed another cocoon and green sticky liquid oozed out of it. "That one will never hatch!"

They turned a corner and entered another hall, ready for battle. But this time there were no darkspawn there, instead they saw the strange being again, and they realised this was the Father.

"I wish to help you defeat the Mother," he said. "She is pure evil, she built a spectacular army which she controls. I, on the other hand, do not seek to control my brethren, I seek to free them. They regain their minds and start thinking for themselves. It is true that darkspawn is drawn to the old gods slumbering beneath the earth. We seek one out and make it rise as the next Archdemon. Then a new Blight begins, and you have to defeat it. But darkspawn never disappears, we simply regroup and the cycle starts again. I wish to break the cycle. I wish to free my brethren from their urge to seek out an old god to make into an Archdemon. If I succeed, there will never be another Blight. But for that I need your help."

Wolf couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, yet the Father was a most intriguing figure. He said nothing, and the Father continued.

"The same as Grey Wardens drink darkspawn blood to become what they are, darkspawn needs Grey Warden blood to free them from the call to raise a new Archdemon. All I ask is some of your blood, and in exchange I shall help you defeat the Mother."

"There are a lot more darkspawn than there are Grey Wardens," Anders said softly. "I don't think there will be any blood left for ourselves."

"This doesn't sound right," Alistair agreed. "Didn't you find some of the Grey Wardens in that ruin where you were imprisoned? And they were turned into darkspawn?"

"I must apologise for restraining you there," the Father spoke again. "I had to protect you from the darkspawn..."

"Do you realise that none of it makes sense?" Wolf squinted at him. "You tried to kill us with those drakes! We were not supposed to escape! You experimented on other Grey Wardens, we've seen the signs... And yes, some of the darkspawn appear to be freed... but the majority are still the same as before! I don't see how it can work."

"This is all that I can tell you, I am afraid," the Father inclined his head. "You have to trust in my best intentions."

"Yeah, and that isn't going to happen!!" Oghren cried out in anger. "Why are we even still talking to him? I am not giving my blood to darkspawn, and that is final!"

Everyone agreed with Oghren and a battle broke out. The Father wasn't easy to defeat, but defeat him they did. When he lay motionless on the ground, they could finally examine his body.

"He was a human once," Anders concluded. "Then he turned into... something. His robe appears to be Tevinter... a very old design. Say... could he be one of those first mages that corrupted the Golden City? They were Tevinter magisters, if memory serves..."

"That's what the Chantry preaches, yes," Alistair nodded. "The Golden City was the residence of the Maker, and Tevinter magisters corrupted it, turning it into the Black City, and they themselves became the first darkspawn... If this... man... was one of them... then there must be others."

"Hmm... That is a disturbing thought," Wolf nodded. "But anyhow, this one is dead, now we have to find the Mother, whatever she is."

...

"Oh, the Father is dead! You killed the Father! You killed the Architect!!!" A bleeding broodmother presided over a large hall deeper in the ruin. She could not move, but many agile tentacles reminded our party that she did not have to move. Broodmothers had other ways to do battle. "The Father was the one who stopped the Song! The most beautiful music that made me forget who I was and what I have become! Now there is just silence - and suffering! Did he say he wanted to free us? Well, he's done it to me! And look at me now!!!"

"Did you really want to wipe out all Grey Wardens?" Wolf asked her.

"Of course! He uses your blood to kill the Song!"

"Let's just kill her and be done with it," Alistair unsheathed his sword.

"Yes! You came to kill the Mother! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!" She laughed, and her voice echoed in the hall. "Perhaps in death I shall hear the Song again!"

She attacked. It appeared that even though she wanted to be dead, she was still going to try to take as many Grey Wardens with her as she could.

...

"That was no easy fight," Anders commented, rising from a knock-out. "This was one angry woman."

"That's a lot of nipples," Oghren stood over the body of the Mother. "Did she use them all?"

"She didn't, she laid eggs," Alistair shook his head, piercing a few remaining cocoons. "She's dead. Now what?"

"Now we return to Vigil Keep and see if the darkspawn horde has retreated or whether they need reminding to do so," Wolf wiped his sword on the Mother's skin. "Our battle is not yet over."

"Where's Zevran?" Alistair suddenly realised that he wasn't with them.

"Back at the Keep," Wolf shrugged. "He's been training new recruits when this whole commotion started..."

"Then there's no time to lose!"

[Lena Wolf]

Second Seed, 3E388 - End of the Blight

Vigil Keep stood firm against the Mother's darkspawn army. The walls were too strong to breach and the defenders had every tactical advantage. By the time Wolf's party reached the Keep, fighting was receding, in particular since the darkspawn no longer heard the Mother's call. Still, even though no fresh darkspawn was forthcoming, there was a horde to clear.

Many soldiers from the Keep's garrison fell in that battle. It was a stark reminder that even without a Blight, darkspawn always remained a threat. Of the Grey Wardens only one was killed - Kristoff. With Justice animating his body, he fought valiantly until one large Hurlock cut off his head. Kristoff's body was finally returned to his widow for burial, and she was proud that he served with Grey Wardens even after his death.

Yet what became of Justice remained unknown. A spirit without a body, he was a mere wisp in the mortal world, without any possibility of returning to the Fade. Not being a demon, the idea of possessing a living body was abhorrent to him, and the impracticality of possessing a dead one became abundantly clear. After all, within a few days after death, the body began to smell. With all the darkspawn trouble, they never had a chance to figure out how to return Justice to the Fade.

Slowly life calmed down and the Wardens settled in at Vigil Keep. They started rebuilding their ranks, and everyone had their hands full training new recruits. Zevran stayed on as well, although he never became a Grey Warden himself.

Anders and Wolf were spending long stretches of time at Soldier's Peak with Avernus, and Wolf finally learned to use the power of his blood without dying. He also started practicing his Voice - those few words in the dragon tongue that he learned back in Skyrim.

A few months have passed in relative calm, with only some small pockets of darkspawn appearing here and there, which was not unusual after a Blight. By all appearances, it was time for Wolf to return to Tamriel. Yet before going, there was one more thing he wanted to do - to find Morrigan.

It was a difficult task because he promised her to leave her alone and not to follow, but he wanted to know how she was and didn't want to leave without seeing her. She would not object if they merely met by chance... and Wolf was determined to bring that chance about.

He started by visiting the Korcari Wilds, circling around the hut where she and Flemeth used to live, not expecting to find either of them there. Like a hound, he was picking up a scent. To his surprise he found the fire burning in the grate and the dust disturbed, he retreated and waited nearby to see who was there.

An elven woman appeared. She too seemed to be looking for Morrigan, since Wolf could not imagine she would be looking for Flemeth. She muttered under her breath - Morrigan seemed to have stolen something from the Keeper of their clan: an ancient elven book.

"If only I could go to the Tower of Magi!" The woman lamented. "There must be similar books in their library, all books they stole from us! Then this elu... eli... something or other... If I could only figure out what it was, I'd find it and Morrigan with it!"

Wolf briefly considered talking to the elven woman, but shook his head - no, it was none of her business. If they didn't even know what the book was about, she would be of no help. Instead, he went to the Tower of Magi on his own.

...

"Anything I can help you with?" One of the mages in the library had been staring at him for a good half an hour. "Forgive me, but you don't look like a mage."

"It doesn't take a mage to use a library," Wolf smirked. "I can read, thank you."

"Err... that didn't come out right," the mage blushed. "But I notice you're studying books from the Restricted section. Blood magic, ancient artefacts, elven runes... Most mages would require a special permission from the First Enchanter to study any of that... yet the templars just let you have it!" He pursed his lips at such an injustice.

"Well, I do have such a permission from the First Enchanter, as a matter of fact," Wolf smiled. "And I can read, too." He turned away from the mage signaling that the matter was closed.

Fifteen minutes later the mage was back.

"Eluvians do not exist," he said pointing at one of the books on ancient elven artefacts on Wolf's desk. "So you can stop all that cross-referencing, it is all for naught."

Wolf didn't answer and continued his study.

Some time later the mage returned.

"My name is Finn," he sat at the desk next to Wolf. "I've been studying ancient artefacts for years. I know that book by heart. Eluvians don't exist, I'm telling you!"

"Oh really?" Wolf squinted. "Well, if my translation is correct - and I am no scholar - then it appears that you need another elven artefact to reveal an eluvian. Without it, you'd just walk right past it and never know it was there."

"What?!" Finn exclaimed and several heads turned. "Let me see that!"

"Well, I am not so sure if you have a special permission from the First Enchanter to read this, you know. Blood magic and stuff..." Wolf covered the scroll. "Are you even qualified? I've seen enough abominations to last me a lifetime!"

"You've... you've seen abominations?" Finn backed off. "Here in the tower? When... oh! But then you are... oh yes! It makes perfect sense!"

"It does?" Wolf squinted at him.

"I can help you find that eluvian, Commander," Finn gave him a broad smile. "I now know who you are."

"You do?" Wolf smirked. "Alright, so how do you propose to find it?"

"Let me see that scroll first," Finn smiled again. "If your translation is correct..."

Wolf passed him the scroll and Finn took a few moments to read it.

"It is of course another elven artefact that is needed for this," he dropped the scroll on the desk. "I should have seen it myself! Some dwarven ruins are built on top of elven ones which came first. The artefacts can be found there. Something that is known as a 'light'. The only snag is that we need an elf to find it."

"An elf? Which elf?" Wolf thought he knew where it was going.

"Any elf... They are hidden... only for elves to see..." Finn lowered his voice and whispered in Wolf's ear: "We need elven blood to reveal the lights."

"I see," Wolf nodded. "I know an elf that might help us. And I assume you know the spell..?"

"Oh yes," Finn's eyes glistened. "As well as where to go. I even have permission to leave the tower... for research. This is research! It applies," he concluded firmly.

...

Several days later Wolf, Finn and Zevran stood near the entrance of an abandoned dwarven settlement that was built on top of an elven ruin. Traces of elven architecture could still be seen among dwarven carvings.

"This looks a bit like Deep Roads," Zevran looked around. "Let's hope there's no darkspawn!"

Of course there was darkspawn.

"Here they come!" Wolf sensed a group of darkspawn approach. "Prepare for battle!"

"Battle?!" Finn froze. "But..."

"Finn," Wolf turned to him and took his wrist. "You are a blood mage. This is no different than performing one of your rituals. Keep me and Zevran alive and try not to get hit yourself. We'll be fine."

"How did you..?" Finn almost choked, but Wolf only shot him a glance - there was no more time for talk.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for Finn to recover. The group of darkspawn was small, even if it did outnumber them three to one. They were defeated without an incident.

"Phew... I've never been in a fight before..." Finn was still shaking slightly. "This is nothing like performing a ritual! I only make a small cut, only a few drops of blood are required for most things, there's no cutting off heads or freezing them solid or... Did you slit your wrist as well?!" He suddenly realised why Wolf's wrist was bleeding slightly. "So the rumours are true!"

"What rumours?" Wolf looked at him sideways, putting pressure on the wrist.

"Shall we return to the task at hand?" Zevran interrupted them. "If it's elven blood you want, you should be looking at my wrists, not his."

The ritual was very simple and required just a few drops of Zevran's blood, as Finn had promised. It revealed a pathway and hidden locations where Finn had to cast another spell to reveal the actual lights they were after. Lanterns, as it appeared. They collected all the lanterns they could find and set off to Brecilian Forest in search of an ancient elven ruin with a hidden eluvian.

...

"Just how much elven blood do you actually need?!" Zevran was getting annoyed when Finn asked for his blood for the fifth time. "A few drops here, a few drops there, you'll bleed me empty at this rate!"

"This should be the last time... I hope," Finn looked uncomfortable. "I am sorry! I can't help it! Ancient elves covered everything in blood enchantments! We won't find a thing without your blood!"

"Find what without the blood?" A woman's voice spoke from the next hall. "Did I not ask you not to follow?"

"Leave them to it," Zevran stopped Finn from entering the hall.

"Morrigan," Wolf approached. "I... well... there's no point in pretence, is there?" He smiled. "How are you?"

"Not bad," she smiled too. "I thought you'd find me sooner or later. It's a boy."

"When?"

"Last month."

"What now?"

"Now I must prepare..." She sighed. "Do you know what this is?" She touched the surface of a large mirror before her and it rippled like water.

"An eluvian," Wolf offered.

"Yes... a gate to another Realm... I must take our child there."

"Is he..?" Wolf didn't dare to say it.

"A demon? No," Morrigan smiled. "Right now he is just a little boy. But I can see the signs - he's got an ancient soul. I must see to it that it remains pure and free of any taint."

"Do you want me to come with you? You don't have to do it alone."

"Oh but I do... What I want is... irrelevant now." She looked at him and smiled with sadness. "Perhaps we meet again some day... but until then, it is Flemeth you need to be watching, not me... Flemeth is not what she seems, even to you, and you see more than most. Dragon blood... yes, that must be it." She gave him a long penetrating look, and he took advantage of that pause, ran up to her, catching her in his embrace.

"You won't go without a kiss this time," he said in her ear. "We'll meet again, I am sure of it."

"Not leaving us yet, then?" She looked into his eyes after a time.

"I'm not finished here, no," he smiled. "And when I do... we'll just have to install an eluvian in Tamriel."

They took some time to properly say goodbye, but it was still a goodbye, they both knew it. Future was uncertain, and whether or not they would meet again, remained in question.

"The elven book is there," Morrigan waved towards the corner of the hall. "Take it to the elves for me, will you? They could not even read it... such a shame," she shook her head. "But you've done better... I always knew you could read," she smiled and kissed him again. "I left a little something for you there, I hope it will prove of use... Goodbye, my friend..."

They kissed one last time and Morrigan stepped through the eluvian. Its surface rippled like that of a pond, then went dull and solid. Wolf stared at it for a few moments, then went to pick up the book and the gift. "Morrigan's amulet," he sensed the enchantment. "Take life from the dead..."

[Lena Wolf]

Evening Star, 3E389 - A missing mage

Two years or so had passed since the final defeat of the Blight as well as the awakened Mother and Father. Grey Wardens of Ferelden replenished their ranks and peaceful activities replaced constant battles. The Circle of Magi recovered from the rebellion of blood mages, and life really seemed to return to normal. One day the First Enchanter sent a request to the Commander of the Grey to hold a lecture on the nature of the Father, also known as the Architect. Was he really one of the original Tevinter mages who corrupted the Maker's own Golden City? Or was he merely a strange sort of darkspawn? And what was darkspawn in the first place?

Wolf didn't feel at all at ease holding a lecture like that, and he asked Anders to do it instead. Hesitant at first, Anders eventually agreed and left for the Tower of Magi as planned. There he held the lecture with great success, impressing both the mages and the apprentices with his knowledge and charisma. He refused their calls to return to the Circle of Magi, said his goodbyes and set off on his trip back to Vigil Keep. And then he vanished.

...

"Where is Anders?" Alistair spoke with a sense of urgency. "It's not like him to just disappear without a trace. The First Enchanter assures me that the lectures went well and Anders left for Vigil Keep fully intending to return here. But that was three weeks ago! So where is he, I ask?"

"That is worrying, indeed," Wolf nodded. "Have you sent scouts?"

"Yes and nothing," Alistair sighed. "They went all the way to the tower and back, searched side roads and caves... They found no Anders and no body of Anders. The man just vanished!"

"People don't vanish just like that, not even mages," Wolf pointed out. "We've got his phylactery, can you track him down?"

"Can I... what..?" Alistair was taken aback. "I'm no hound!"

"But you are a templar," Wolf didn't give up. "What do you need to find him?"

"Oh... umm... the truth is... err..." Alistair looked away. "I can't do it."

"Why not?"

"I don't take lyrium. I didn't complete my training, I told you. I can't actually hunt down mages."

"So for the better," Wolf grinned. "But what are we going to do?"

"We could ask someone from the Chantry..."

"No."

"Well... We could send scouts further afield..."

...

"Anders is in Kirkwall," Alistair handed Wolf a report a week later. "Hiding in Darktown, blending in with refugees. Doing some healing, apparently. But why, I have no idea."

"Something must have happened," Wolf carefully read the report but it didn't say anything more. "I'll go. This may require a delicate touch... so don't wait up."

...

Kirkwall greeted Wolf with disbelief and rejection.

"The city is closed, we want no more refugees!" The guard pushed him back quite unceremoniously when Wolf requested entry, having arrived by ship like many others. "Back off! The Blight's been over for a while, so go back to your country!"

"I am not actually a refugee," Wolf took a step closer. "I have business here. Where is your Captain?"

"The Captain is too busy to talk to the likes of you!" The guard answered automatically and spit. "Look, we don't want your sort here, so buzz off!"

"I wouldn't talk to him like that if I were you," a passer-by said to the guard in a low voice. "That's a Grey Warden."

"I don't care if he's blue or green, he isn't coming in!"

"Did you fall on your head, boy?" The passer-by looked down on the guard, and it was remarkable how he managed to do it since he was a dwarf. "A Grey Warden," he repeated with emphasis. "A Captain at least... or may be even a Commander... Have you ever seen such armour before?"

The guard stared at Wolf, only then noticing his rare engraved silverite armour, something they picked up on their travels, found in an ancient ruin in an old enchanted chest...

"Armour of Diligence," the dwarf continued. "I've only seen such a set once, in a vault... err... never mind that now."

"Yes, I've seen it in a vault once as well," Wolf nodded. "And then it wasn't there any longer," he glared at the dwarf.

"Well, strange things do happen to valuable sets of armour," the dwarf smiled. "Anyway, boy, you best let the Warden through," he turned to the guard. "Insulting a Grey Warden is bad for Kirkwall and can be potentially fatal to you, as well."

The guard didn't respond but stepped aside, and Wolf entered Kirkwall.

"I am thrilled to make your acquaintance, Warden," the dwarf addressed him. "Name's Varric, a surface dwarf. My brother and I trade in rare artefacts..." He cut himself off and extended his hand.

"Wolf," Wolf shook his hand. "Thanks for helping me get in just now. Is the city really so full?"

"That it is, that it is," Varric nodded. "We've taken in so many refugees since the Blight... But you can imagine, no doubt. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well... I don't know... I'd rather not..." Wolf started cautiously.

"You'd rather not talk about it because it's a Grey Wardens business, right?" Varric grinned. "Looking for a certain healer, are you? He's in Darktown. And no, most people have no idea he's a Grey Warden. But I am not most people."

"What are you after, Varric?" Wolf squinted. "Surely, this information does not come for free."

"Well... See it as a gesture of good will," Varric smiled. "An advance, if you like. And perhaps we can help each other further."

"Spit it out." Wolf folded his arms, he wanted to know what he was getting into.

"We're planning an expedition into the Deep Roads, my brother and I," Varric finally admitted. "Right after a Blight is the best time to do it, there won't be much darkspawn yet. We need to... replenish our stock," he grinned. "We've got fighters and bodyguards, but what we don't have is a good map. Especially if it comes with someone who knows the area."

"I came here looking for someone, not looking to go on an expedition into the Deep Roads," Wolf shook his head. "Thanks, Varric, but I'm not interested."

"Ah, well, perhaps I should tell you more," Varric touched his arm. "It's not just trinkets that we're after... Rumour has it that there's a new form of lyrium down there, a hundred times as potent as the one we know. Can you imagine? If that is true... A small chipping of that would set us up with fortune for life - you, me, my brother, and everyone else who comes along!"

"It's tempting, to be sure," Wolf replied, yawning. "But not for me."

"Well... Don't discount it yet," Varric was undaunted. "Talk to your mage. Then find me at the Hanged Man."

...

Kirkwall was depressing, to say the least. A city that made its fortune through slave trade, it bore the scars of suffering on every corner. And even though slavery had been officially abolished, unofficially it was still all too common, and foreign traders still came to Kirkwall to "restock". Why would Anders come to this city, of all places? Anders, who hated confrontation and loved comfort, nice clothes and pretty women? It just didn't make sense.

"The healer is only seeing those in need," a stern looking woman barred entrance when Wolf decided to try a house with a lantern by the door. So, he was in the right place then. "You are not in need, so clear out," she added menacingly.

"And if I don't, you will see to it that I have a need, am I right?" Wolf smirked, removing a pair of daggers concealed in her belt.

"How dare you?!" The woman tried to snatch her daggers from him, but Wolf quickly tucked them into his own belt and grabbed her wrists.

"Let's not get violent, shall we?" He smiled, releasing her. "So, do I get to see the healer now?"

"We have guards inside," the woman snapped. "Try anything - anything! - and you will regret it!" She glared but stepped aside.

Wolf smirked and entered, not returning the daggers to her.

The space inside was poorly lit, like most houses in Kirkwall. Grey stone dust covered the walls and black coal dust covered the ceiling. That level of the city used to be a mine, and the buildings were no buildings but caverns cut into the rock by miners many years ago. Wolf followed the lanterns visible here and there and came to a room filled with people. Faint glow of healing magic illuminated a slab in the middle - Anders was treating a boy on the slab.

"The healer is busy and you are not in need!" A well-armed character blocked the way. "How did you get in? Did you..?" He started raising his voice, but an alarm or a fight was not in Wolf's interest. One punch on the temple sent the man into a corner. He wasn't dead, Wolf hoped.

Anders finished his spell. He was exhausted, reminding Wolf of the time when he was starving in the dungeons. "I wonder if he gets enough to eat down here..." Wolf thought. He pushed forward, people let him through, surprised.

"The healer needs a break!" Wolf announced loudly. "Come back later!"

"What..?!" Anders spun around, but had to hold onto a pillar so as not to fall. "You! Here..?"

"I thought you might need a hand," Wolf smiled amicably. "They are exploiting you, you know."

"They are not!" Anders responded hotly. "They've got nothing! They cannot afford a healer..!"

"But you are not Reverend Mother Theresa, my friend," Wolf shook his head. "You've got to eat, for one. Take a break - that's all I'm asking."

Anders shook his head, as if shaking off a dream.

"Eh... A break... Yes, I'm hungry... It's been a while..." He collapsed, and Wolf insisted that everyone should leave and not come back until he said so. Even the guards could see that the healer really needed a break.

...

"So, tell me what happened," Wolf took a long look at Anders when they were finally sitting down at dinner away from the treatment room. "I know you're a healer, but if you wanted to come here to heal, there was no need to run away... We would have let you, you know. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I... well... err... Oh I know!" Anders suddenly brightened up. "I brought a mage with me from the Tower, they were going to make him tranquil, so I had to save him. We came here because... err... well..." He hesitated, as if he was reciting a text and forgot what came next. "The point is," he continued after a pause, "the templars got him again. He's being held in the Chantry dungeons. Help me free him, and I'll tell you more."

"Do you intend to kill the templars?" Wolf squinted. "Or may be sneak in and release the mage? Alright, but what next? Where will you take him?"

Anders could not answer that. He would hide the mage in Darktown until he could figure out what to do. Time was of the essence - the Rite of Tranquility was being prepared with all haste.

"We have to go as soon as we can - tonight even!" Anders exclaimed hotly. "We may already be too late!"

Wolf shook his head but agreed. He didn't like it in the least, but didn't see a way out. Something was very wrong with Anders... he was changed, suddenly and sharply, people didn't change like that... unless...

"Come on!" Anders was getting impatient and Wolf brushed away his thoughts until later. They had a mage to save.

The city was quiet as the night had already fallen, but the Chantry never closed its doors. They entered.

"Do you know the way to the dungeons?" Wolf looked around.

"Through there," Anders pointed at a passage in the depths. "Past the candles and the templars..."

They walked unchallenged. The passage opened onto a smallish prayer area with more candles and a sturdy door, unguarded. A mage was kneeling in prayer.

"Karl!" Anders ran up to him. "I came as soon as I could... What are you doing out of the dungeons?"

Karl got up and looked at them, his expression lacked any emotion.

"Anders, was it?" He struggled to remember the name of the mage before him. "Hello. And who is your friend?"

"Oh no..! We are too late..." Anders was in shock. He approached Karl and touched his shoulder. "They've done it already..."

With Anders' touch, Karl's face lit up, first with joy, then with despair.

"You brought a piece of Fade with you!" He whispered. "Kill me! I do not want to live a life of a tranquil!"

Wolf watched, not getting involved. He shot a glance at the templars on duty, but they were too far away to hear. Anders pulled out his dagger and stabbed Karl through the heart.

"Goodbye, my friend..." He whispered.

...

Wolf and Anders got back to Darktown without incident. They did not speak until they were inside Anders' practice.

"He was my first," Anders turned to Wolf. "I had to free him."

"Your first what?" Wolf squinted.

"Well, you know..." Anders shrugged. "We grew up together... we were friends... and more..."

"Hmm... Anders I know prefers women," Wolf shook his head. "We drank enough mead together to know exactly who likes what. What did he mean by 'you brought a piece of Fade with you'?"

Anders didn't answer. He paced the room, he looked angry and annoyed. And suddenly Wolf recalled something that Justice said about demons: that only demons possessed an unwilling host.

"Justice," Wolf called to Anders and he stopped abruptly. "What have you become? Only demons possess unwilling hosts..."

Anders collapsed, unconscious. Wolf sat him up and poured a healing potion down his throat. Eventually he came to.

"I met Justice in the Tower of Magi," he said sounding like himself again. "When Kristoff was decapitated in battle, Justice could not remain in his body. He traveled the land but never found a way back to the Fade. Then he found the Tower... and all those mages. Karl was the first living mortal that he possessed. He did hope that mages would be able to send him back to the Fade, he possessed many, for a short time, always hoping to escape when they were dreaming. That didn't work out. He could not possess a body and enter the Fade at the same time."

"And now he is possessing you," Wolf sighed. "And Anders is lost in the process."

"I cannot control it..." Anders looked pleadingly at Wolf. "He can take over any moment... But he is changed, too. Vengeance is what he is now."

"I am Justice!" An angry voice shouted inside Anders, or rather that's how it seemed. "Your world has too much suffering, too much injustice, I cannot stand idly by and watch! Justice must be done!"

"And you are willing to sacrifice Anders for it!" Wolf exclaimed sharply. "If you are not a demon as you claim, you will not take over without notice and you will permit us to search for a way to separate you. You belong in the Fade! And I will see you return there or perish, but I will not allow you to turn my friend into an abomination!"

"I... you are right, mortal..." Justice seemed to agree. "I shall try... but I've seen so much injustice in your world that it corrupted me... My anger overwhelms me. You must not delay. There must be a way, a ritual, something!"

Justice released his grip on Anders, Wolf could see the change in posture, in mannerisms, in voice. Possession was terrible and he swore to himself to find a way to end it. Anders once again got himself into a tremendous mess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The story that follows is loosely based on Dragon Age II. That game was the biggest disappointment for me, from design, to combat, to romance, to art. But the worst of all was the way they presented Anders. As someone on Reddit put it, "...meeting him in DA2 was like reading a friend's obituary. I never traveled with him except to get his quests done because it was like hanging out with the corpse of a good friend." I feel the same way. I did take him along quite a lot when I played the game (a single time, and never again!), but I decided very early on that Anders in DA2 was a completely different character with the same name. It also did not match the ending of Awakening in which my Anders vanished for a few months after giving that lecture at the Circle of Magi, but then returned to the Grey Wardens and stayed with them till the end of his days. There was never any mention of him getting possessed by Justice or becoming an anarchist or doing any of those crazy things that Anders in DA2 does without us being able to influence it (all scripted events).

This story is therefore the story of my Anders. He got possessed by Justice just like in DA2, and he got involved in some of the events, but not in the same role and not with the same purpose. Moreover, Wolf isn't Hawke, the protagonist of DA2; we'll meet Hawke along the way. Varric is still Varric, and things still went pretty pear shaped in Kirkwall, and I hear there was some anarchistic maniac who blew up the Chantry. It just wasn't Anders. Not this one, anyway.

To put things in perspective with the events in Tamriel, below are a few dates. Full chronology is found here.

3E387 (9:30 Dragon)

Wolf Asgarsen, an Agent of the Imperial Legion, was sent to Ferelden, on the continent of Thedas, to investigate a terrifying rise of undead known as the Blight. He was to join the Order of Grey Wardens there and help them defeat the Blight. His reports, delivered back to the Imperial Legion and the Emperor of Tamriel, would spare the worst of such an uprising for Tamriel, should it spill over from Thedas. Wolf was chosen because he was Dragonborn, although he'd never seen a dragon and never consumed a dragon soul. Yet it was believed that he stood the best chance to survive the Joining ritual and see this mission through. He was 39 years old. During his travels he met a young mage Anders whom he saved from a terrible fate. Anders was 22 years old when they met. (Dragon Age: Origins)

3E388 (9:31 Dragon)

The Blight in Ferelden was defeated, and Wolf sent his first report back to Tamriel. He did not return, however, because he felt that the trouble wasn't yet over and thus his mission was not yet complete. He was appointed Warden-Commander, the head of the Ferelden chapter of the Grey Wardens Order. But some believed that he didn't want to leave because he wanted to be around when Morrigan gave birth to his child. The child had a soul of an old god and Morrigan took it to another realm where she could better take care of such an unusual child. Wolf did not follow. (Dragon Age: Awakening and Witch Hunt)

3E389 (9:32 Dragon)

Emperor Uriel Septim VII was betrayed by his own Imperial Battlemage Jagar Tharn and sealed away in another realm. Jagar Tharn disguised himself as the Emperor and took his place, but he didn't fool everyone. The Blades felt that something was wrong, and Wolf Asgarsen was ordered to remain in Thedas for the time being, especially since the situation there was also volatile. Wolf continued sending regular reports back to Tamriel. (Elder Scrolls I: Arena, Dragon Age II)

3E398 (9:41 Dragon)

A huge magical explosion caused an enormous tear in the Veil above Thedas, thus allowing demons and spirits to invade the mortal realm. Wolf happened to be there and caught something... that put him right in the centre of a new war against a darkspawn lord planning to destroy the world. Wolf turned 50 that year. (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

3E405

Mysterious events started in High Rock and Hammerfell, involving spirits, gods, necromancers and undead, and eventually culminating in the Warp in the West in 3E417. It was speculated that these might have been attempts by the old gods of Thedas to invade Tamriel, but nobody could tell for sure. Some even claimed those were all the same gods anyway... Wolf was recalled to Tamriel, arriving in 3E405 or 3E406. He was appointed the Commander of the Second Legion stationed in Falkreath. (Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall)

3E410 (9:53 Dragon)

Thedas got in trouble again, but Wolf Asgarsen was already back in Tamriel. It was now Anders, a Grey Warden mage and Wolf's friend, who found himself in the centre of a tremendous mess and it was up to him to put everything back together. Anders was 45 years old. (Dragon Age: Veilguard)

3E413

Wolf Asgarsen and Lillian Delacour had a son. As Lillian was a Dark Brotherhood assassin, and Wolf was a high placed citizen of the Empire, their relationship was clandestine and they decided to send the boy away to the Northern Realms to be raised as a witcher of the School of the Wolf. He later became known as Geralt of Rivia, or Geralt the White Wolf. He was half-Breton, half-Nord, but his father's blood won over and Geralt was a Nord.

3E417

Lillian Delacour left the Brotherhood in early 3E417 after she executed the issuer of a contract on Wolf Asgarsen. She was pregnant with her second child.

Lena Wolf was born in Cyrodiil under the Apprentice on 17 Sun's Height 3E417. She was a Breton like her mother, but her father's Nord blood ran just under the surface.

3E421

Lillian Delacour, Lena's mother, died of swamp fever. Lena was 4 years old. She was adopted by their Argonian neighbour whom she saw as her grandmother.

3E427

Dagoth Ur rose in Morrowind, and Azura picked a mortal to act as her Nerevarine. The Red Mountain erupted some time later. (Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind)

3E433

The Oblivion Crisis broke out when Lena was 16 years old. Her adoptive grandmother died of old age. Lena joined the Mages Guild and went about closing the gates. (Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion)

This post has been edited by Lena Wolf: Nov 7 2024, 02:12 PM