Dragon Age: Origins Ultimate edition

Pariah · Feb 5, 2016

Xkeizer said:
Who knows, we know the Templars can do their job right with the right people in charge and in the right places, but they're still people, so there's always the chance that someone crazy or corrupt to wind up in the wrong position.

Still, I doubt they'd commence a purge without hard evidence. Hopefully.

IIRC one of the invoking of the Rite Of Annulment was to cover up the fact one of the Templars in that Circle had gone on a killing spree.

The Curious Fan · Sep 11, 2018

Back from the dead after years, this time I'll be doing Orzammar in two big batches (too big for one go), after looking I found it was half finished getting typed up but I don't quite remember what I did.

First off, there's the beef gate of bounty hunters intended to deter players away from Orzammar if they chose to go there first. They die easily enough though.

On the way up to Orzammar Shale provides some foreshadowing by expressing interest in whether or not Orzammar makes golems or not.

I also hear some gossip about the mages.

Gossip 1: You heard about all the mages in Lake Calenhad? They up and turned into a pack of demons.

Gossip 2: No! Did the templars kill them all, at least?

Gossip 1: Nope. I guess they got better.

Gossip 2: More likely working with the darkspawn to take us over.

Gossip 1: I don't even want to think about it.

Nobody likes mages.

Shale: So I am to understand the sister is a follower of this "Maker"?

Leliana: Am I the sister? Aw... that's so cute. It's like you're my big brother, or sister... or whatever.

Shale: I am a creature of stone. I doubt that we will be related in any shape or form.

Leliana: Oh I didn't mean it literally. Don't you think people can be related in spirit?

Shale: I noticed that humans tend to believe in a great deal of things that are not true, even when given evidence to the contrary.

Leliana: Believing in things when there is no proof is what faith is all about, Shale.

Shale: Believing in things when there is no proof is what gullibility is all about.

Leliana: So I am gullible now?

Shale: I, ah, take it we are no longer sister in spirit?

Shale messes with and insults everyone in the party, part 1.

The entrance to Orzammar is rather nice looking.

Merchant: Oh... you wish to talk to me? Truly, it's a courtesy for one so... well-armed to notice a lowly merchant.

Duran: Did you lose your caste when you left Orzammar?

Merchant: It's not your business, but like my father, I was born on the surface. We never had a caste to leave. The Assembly says we've turned our back on the Stone, but they still use the goods we bring. Hypocrites.

Leliana: That's not right. Someone should do something.

Merchant: Maybe it'll change by the time my children are grown.

Duran: How often do you restock in Orzammar?

Merchant: Twice a year. I am confined to a trade stall in the commons, but I see enough. It is very... closed in. My father says I've lost my stone sense. I was born topside. I don't remember having it.

Duran: Never mind. I should go.

Merchant: Best of luck to you.

Another bit of the story of Orzammar, they're utterly dependent on the surface dwarves but they still choose to be assholes to them.

While I'm here I mop up another generic deserter for the Blackstone Irregulars before heading for the gate.

Gate Guard: Veata! This land is held in trust for the sovereign dwarven kings. I cannot allow entry at this time.

Messenger: King Loghain demands the allegiance of of the deshyr or lords or whatever you call them in your assembly. I am his appointed messenger.

Gate Guard: I don't care if you're the king's wiper, Orzammar will have none but it's own until our throne is settled.

Duran: Settled? Is this about my father?

Gate Guard: You're the exile. Aye, despite Bhelen's best efforts, sorrow finished what your kinslaying started. Your father is dead.

Messenger: Kinslayer? Oh, you're not getting in.

Duran: How did Endrin die?

Messenger: Losing two sons, one to murder and one to exile? Who can blame him for seeking peace among the ancestors?

Gate Guard: The Assembly has gone through a dozen votes without agreeing on a successor. If it is not settled soon, we risk a civil war.

Duran: I am a Grey Warden. This treaty obliges Orzammar to aid me.

Messenger: The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden! They're sworn enemies of King Loghain!

Gate Guard: Well, that is the royal seal. That means only the Assembly is authorized to address it. Grey Warden, you may pass.

Messenger: What! He's a traitor! And a kinslayer! You said it yourself.

In the name of King Loghain I demand that you execute this... stain on the honour of Ferelden!

Duran: (Intimidate) Run to your false king. The dwarves will not hear him today.

Messenger: You... you'll hear of this. King Loghain will see you quartered.

Gate Guard: You are free to enter Orzammar, Grey Warden, though I don't know what help you'll find.

For a character that only appears once, the gate guard sure made himself memorable.

And the messenger inherited Loghain's talent for diplomacy. Demanding that the dwarves cease to exist as their own nation and that they serve you while insulting them? How ridiculous can you get with your demands?

As I studied among the dwarves, I became aware that their social system was as rigid as the stone that surrounded them. From the lowest servant to the king of Orzammar, each dwarf has a caste, a rigid social standing, which dictates what he may do and how he may do it. What fascinated me then was that the dwarves, stubborn and proud as they may be, have built in a way for even the lowliest dwarf to bypass the caste system and reach prominence. Any dwarf who has made an achievement of significance can be named Paragon, elevating that dwarf above all others.

To become a Paragon is to be recognized as, essentially, a living ancestor. Your words are considered ineffable, and the dwarves liken you unto a god. Your family, those you choose to ascend with you, become the founders of a new line of nobility. Indeed, every existing noble house among the dwarves traces its line back to a founding Paragon. It is a rare thing, however. In my visit, I learned that only one Paragon has been elected in generations: The smith Branka, exalted for her discovery of smokeless coal.

I met the Paragon Branka only once during my stay, and I consider it an odd occasion indeed. Surrounded by those of her house, this ill-tempered woman was draped in the finest clothing and jewelry, and was obviously revered even above the highest nobles--perhaps above even the king--yet she seemed to enjoy none of it. The burden of being a living legend is great, it appears.

Statues of the Paragons are found throughout Orzammar, though nowhere so prominently than in the Hall of Heroes through which one passes on entering from the surface. It is a breathtaking sight to behold, great works of stone all seeming to hold up the ceiling above. It is meant to impress upon visitors to Orzammar of all who have gone before, I think. It is also meant to remind dwarves going to the surface--and thus abandoning their brethren forever--of all they are leaving behind.

--From Stone Halls of the Dwarves, by Brother Genitivi, Chantry scholar

And that's how Branka became a Paragon, she discovered smokeless coal.

While walking through the Paragon statues, some more Shale dialogue triggers.

Leliana: Do you miss the life you once had, Shale? These centuries of memories you have lost?

Shale: Does it miss being within its mother's womb?

Leliana: Do I...? Well, no. I don't remember that far back.

Shale: It is no different. My memory stretches only so far, and what went before is now lost.

Leliana: And you remember nothing at all? Not even a little bit?

Shale: There are... images. Faces who I have no names for. places I remember being but not where they are. Do I miss these things? They are without context. I feel only disquiet when I think of them.

Leliana: Like dreams, then. When you awake all the details have fled.

Shale: Is that what it is to dream? Then yes. Perhaps it is like that.

Leliana: How very sad. To discover your entire life has been a forgotten dream. I am so sorry.

Shale barely remembers a thing from before getting stuck in the Deep Roads.

I enter the city at the perfect time, just before a fight breaks out.

Harrowmont: It is the Assembly who makes a king, and a king nominates his successor. None of it is carried in the blood.

Bhelen: Or, as now, when someone tries using the Assembly to pull a coup. Who's to say what my father said in his final hours when the usurper Harrowmont was the only one at his side?

Harrowmont: I'll have you thrown in prison!

Bhelen: You've bitten off more than you can chew!

City guard: Handlers! Separate these deshyrs in the Diamond Quarter! I will not have Bhelen incite a riot!

Bhelen's Handler/Zealot: You'll not speak that way about the man who should be king!

*kills the guard with an axe*

Harrowmont: *takes the hint and runs*

They weren't kidding when they said that Orzammar is close to civil war.

And it's interesting that Harrowmont was planning to imprison Bhelen and not kill him, I guess even all of the drama going on isn't enough to make him want Endrin's last child dead.

To get more information I talk to the guard who is standing around griping about the brawl.

Guard: Exile, you were not to show your face here again. I have enough crime to deal with. I shouldn't have to dump you back in the Deep Roads.

Duran: I have a new house. The Grey Wardens.

Guard: That's right, you found pity topside. The Wardens should have better sense choosing allies. Surfacers and their cloud-addled heads. Fine, oh illustrious Grey Warden, what do you want?

Duran: The Blight is coming and I need Orzammar's assistance.

Guard: Surface problems. Well, we have no king to hear you. You can join the shouting at the Assembly in the Diamond Quarter, if you want. Bunch of deshyr lords bickering over sand. Bhelen, Harrowmont... is one so different? No Paragons here.

Duran: Can a city function like this?

Guard: Blame yourself for that. The deaths in your house brought us here. And still the tavern is open and the market is busy. Orzammar has suffered worse. The ancestors will see us through.

Duran: Where is Bhelen? I have unfinished business with him.

Guard: I'll wager you do, but with your history, you won't get near him. Make your appeals to Vartag Gavorn, Bhelen's voice in the assembly. Sorry, Warden, but the ancestors know your place.

Duran: I should get going.

Guard: Yes, you should.

I must say, I love how much DN specific dialogue there is in Orzammar.

While walking towards Nerav Morrigan questions out loud where exactly did the dwarves put all the rock when they hollowed this place out to create Orzammar.

Nerav Helmi: Who are... by the ancestors! You were exiled to the Deep Roads. How can you be standing here?

Duran: Nerav? Nerav Helmi? Is that you?

Nerav: I should hope so! I'd be quite hurt if you didn't recognise me. After all, under different circumstances, we might have been married. But you were supposed to be dead. How is it you live?

Duran: The Grey Wardens found and recruited me.

Nerav: Then I hope your return is a good omen. Since your father died, many have begun to wonder if it was Bhelen's hand behind Trian's death, not yours. Even your father believed that. It's why he appointed Lord Harrowmont as his heir. But enough deshyrs support Bhelen to keep the Assembly in a deadlock. You can see how bad things have gotten.

Duran: How did my father die?

Nerav: In his sleep, though many whisper those are only sweet words to hide the smell of poison. May the ancestors accept the king among their blessed number.

Duran: How many still support Bhelen?

Nerav: Exactly half the Assembly. But as you know, that means his numbers are dropping.

Duran: Once, the Assembly wished me to rule...

Nerav: And I'm sure some curse their decision to exile you. But house Aeducan stands behind Bhelen still, and they have stricken your name.

Duran: Where is Bhelen now?

Nerav: He still lives in the king's quarters, pretending your father never repudiated him. He seems to think if he's close to the throne long enough, we'll forget he has no right to claim it.

Duran: Does Harrowmont believe Bhelen killed my brother?

Nerav: He wouldn't dare say so, but the common folk do. Not enough of them, I say. Exactly half the Assembly still supports Bhelen, and their loyalty runs deep.

Duran: Where is Harrowmont now?

Nerav: He dares not leave his estate often; you've seen what sorts of thugs support your brother.

Duran: That's enough. I must go deal with this now.

Nerav: I am glad to see you're safe. If you seek Lord Harrowmont's support, talk to Dulin Forender. You'll find him in Harrowmont's estate. Tell him who you are and I'm sure he can get you an audience. I should return home, until the streets become safe again.

I wonder if she'll change her tune if I do Bhelen's first quest.

Once I've finished talking to a merchant that's pro-Bhelen because he supports the old dwarven ways getting broken up (and the the profits that'll come from that) I find an interesting item.

The Crows of Antiva may be the most famous and most expensive of Thedas's assassins, but they are not the most active. That dubious honor belongs to the Shadows of the Emperor, the personal cadre of killers employed by the throne of Orlais.

Almost exclusively, the Shadows work against other noble families in Val Royeaux. No one knows who they are, not even the sitting emperor, and some in the court dismiss them as only a myth. The assassins have slipped into aristocratic life working as palace servants, ladies-in-waiting, and, on one notorious occasion, the chamberlain himself.

This armor was made for use by the Shadows whenever the Grand Game should wander out of hand.

Orlais isn't completely mad, they have a way of bringing the Grand Game under control if they need to.

While I'm wandering around, I run into another recurring NPC.

Dagna the magic loving dwarf.

Dagna: Oh, I was actually talking to your companions... or are you from the surface, too?

Duran: Yes, you could say that.

Dagna: Oh, wonderful! I've been trying forever to find someone who really knows the surface world. I-I don't suppose you've heard of something called "The Circle?"

Duran: The Circle of Magi?

Dagna: I've been trying to reach someone there for years; I've sent missives with every caravan, but I never get a reply. I want to know if they would accept me for study.

Duran: Why wouldn't they?

Dagna: No dwarf has ever studied at the Circle of Magi! I guess you never read First Enchanter Caethelun's "Treatise Concerning Dwarves and the Non-Heritability of Magic." He tested dwarves from twenty bloodlines, and found they couldn't perform any level of spell casting, regardless of lyrium exposure or time on the surface. The Circle speculates that the Lyrium in the Stone shields us from spiritual influences and over time made us immune to them.

Duran: So what do you want with the Circle (in hindsight, a stupid question)?

Dagna: I want to go to the Circle to study.

Morrigan: I assure you, that desire will depart the moment you arrive.

Dagna: I don't want to do magic. No dwarf can cast spells (er, about that... note: Link Runic Golem and dwarf from Descent here), but I don't see why I shouldn't study it. It would be a valuable exchange. Orzammar would learn of one of the great natural forces of the surface. And the Circle gains direct access to our knowledge of lyrium smithing.

Duran: I can bring the Circle your request.

Dagna: That would be wonderful! My name is Dagna, daughter of Jamar of the Smith Caste. Tell them I've already begun reading the Tevinter Imperium's "Fortikum Kadab," and it's just fascinating! Did you know the Imperial Magister Lords once had genealogies of every human family known to produce a mage child?

Leliana: She's so enthusiastic and adorable! I'm glad we're helping her.

Dagna: (Gasps) Oh, I'll go pack my bags right now! I'll be waiting by my father's shop!

Why hello there uncanny valley, how are you today?

Regardless, her sincere desire to go forth and learn makes Dagna a pretty endearing character, at least to me.

Of course, that bit about leaking Orzammar's trade secrets will probably lead to Dagna's name being hated for a long while if *insert dwarf from DA2 who leaked blacksmithing info here* is anything to go by.

Along the way to the Diamond Quarter I find two more codex entries but they come in parts so The Shaper's Life and Key to the City will have to wait until I've got all of them.

Now that Duran is in the Diamond Quarter he runs into an old face, Mardy.

Mardy: M-my lord! You're back. They told me you were dead!

Duran: It's good to see you again, Mardy.

Mardy: I'm flattered you remember, my lord. Perhaps you also remember our night of passion, the evening of your first commission? Or the son we created, who now has his birthright stripped from him because you got yourself exiled!

Duran: Did you say "son?"

Mardy: I've had to care for him myself, nurse him, clothe him. I can't work. No one wants to lie with a woman who's used up her fertility on some casteless brat. How could you do this to us?

Duran: Well I didn't exactly plan to get exiled!

Mardy: Then help us! Convince your family to take you back. Or at least declare you honourably dead and acknowledge your son! Please. Think about what his life will be otherwise.

Duran: If it's within my power, I will get my son his birthright.

Mardy: Thank you. I guess you do care after all. I-I take back all the times I cursed your name.

Dwarf politics continue to be completely fucked and indifferent to who gets caught in the crossfire whenever someone loses.

Next are the propaganda speakers, one arguing for Harrowmont and one for Bhelen.

Pro-Harrowmont: Lord Harrowmont is the voice of tradition and stability! Lord Bhelen is the voice of anarchy and ruin!

Pro-Bhelen: News of the hour. Support Lord Harrowmont at your own peril! Darkspawn will overrun Orzammar within the year if he becomes king, experts say!

And that's just the choice summed up in two sentences, Harrowmont is stable but won't keep the Darkspawn away and loves tradition while Bhelen will smash tradition and keep Orzammar alive but might lead to a massive civil war down the line.

Before the palace I headed to the Shaperate, it's far less impressive than DAI made it sound, in this game it's just a relatively humble collection of books instead of stones carved with the memories of the time.

Shaper: Warden! I'm outraged. A thief in the Shaperate. What have we been reduced to?

Duran: Did you get a good look at him?

Shaper: I did. He was bald, with the most garish brand across his head. Almost like he took pride in being casteless! Imagine! Ah... he's probably in the slums somewhere. As if he'd find a buyer for a stolen tome in Dust Town. They couldn't know the value.

Orta: Oh, um, pardon me. Were you looking for a particular volume? Not that I could really help. I, um, don't know the libraries very well. I'm just doing some research...

Duran: What kind of research?

Orta: I was looking for something about the Ortan Thaig. It was lost during the last Blight, and there aren't many records left. They were a noble house once, descended from the Paragon Ortan, who composed the grand epic of the Seven Brothers and the Ortanic Symphony. My mother's family believes they were descended from Kelana Ortan, who was training in Orzammar when the thaig fell. I'm even named for the house--Orta. Unfortunately, any records would be buried in the thaig's ruins, somewhere in the Deep Roads.

Duran: I'm a Grey Warden. I'm not afraid of the Deep Roads.

Orta: A Grey Warden? Mother always said that if anyone could find the thaig, it was the Wardens. I hear Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont have both been sending out small teams these days. Yes. If you can find the thaig, and any records, that could do it. That could prove I'm a noble! If you could... Maybe, not that you're looking... It's almost too much to hope.

Once again I'm struck at just how implausible it is that most of the side quests would get done. Also that bit of Ortan Thaig only falling in the 4th blight is interesting, I guess getting steadily beaten back also meant that Orzammar slowly lost the thaigs supporting it.

And since it's a library there's a few books to read.

The Legion of Steel said:
Paragon Caridin vanished in the eleventh year of the reign of King Valtor, and with the Paragon the entire process for golem manufacture was lost. Expeditions were sent into the Deep Roads to track him, but the darkspawn drove them all back.

Finally, in the second year of the reign of Queen Getha, one hundred and twenty six golems, the entire Legion of Steel, were sent to recover the Paragon.

None returned.

The Shaper of Golems refused to support any further attempts to find Caridin, and the Paragon was officially declared dead.

The Shaperate never recovered from the loss of an entire legion of golems, and never again allowed an all-golem regiment into the Deep Roads.

-- From Stone Halls of the Dwarves, by Brother Genitivi, Chantry scholar.

Genitivi gets around and wow they were desperate to get Caridin and the Anvil back. It's almost like golems were the only thing keeping the Dwarves from getting overwhelmed by the Darkspawn.

In Praise of the Humble Nug said:
I once served a human some nug and he proclaimed that it was like eating an unholy union of pork and hare. The idea disturbed him so much that he declined to finish his serving, and made himself content with some stale bread.

Of course, this one goes to show that surfacers—human or otherwise—have tragically unrefined palates. The nug is surely the most delicious animal I have ever tasted. Only a dead man would not salivate at the thought of a tender morsel of roast nug melting in his mouth. The Paragon Varen—although his house has fallen—shall always be remembered for discovering the wonders of nug flesh. Admittedly, it was discovered only out of desperation, when he was separated from his legion and lost in the Deep Roads for a week, but we won't hold that against the good Paragon.

While nug pancakes and nug-gets (my own children love these) are the nug dishes one encounters most often, nug can be prepared in other interesting and elegant ways. The late King Ansgar Aeducan adored nug—seared on a hot metal plate and finished in the oven—and dressed in a cream sauce flavored with deep mushrooms. You must be careful when using the mushrooms from the Deep Roads, because they often grow close to darkspawn bodies. They say that this is what gives them their unique flavor and intoxicating scent, but it also means that consuming too many of them may result in curious afflictions of the mind.

--From In Praise of the Humble Nug, By Bragan Tolban, honored chef to House Aeducan.

Life finds a way even when confronted with what's basically anti-life. I have to confess that I'm not sure how a nug pancake works though, is it just a thin cut of meat?

Legion of the Dead said:
"Yes, Stone's greetings friend
You will fight ceaselessly in
The Legion of the Dead."
--Motto of the Legion of the Dead.
The Legion accepts all.
So I was told by one of the Legionnaires himself, a dwarf who waited quietly at the entrance to the Deep Roads for the rest of his unit to assemble. They gathered slowly, each equipped with heavy armor and fine weapons, each painted with grim tattoos applied at their funerals the night previous.

For that is the nature of the Legion. They are all dead. Any dwarf may join the Legion, so long as he is willing to give up everything he has. The funeral rites are somber: a final goodbye is said to family and loved ones, any material goods are dispersed to heirs and last words are said, and then it is done. The new Legionnaire marches out into the Deep Roads, never to return. The Legion fights against the darkspawn to the last, striking one final blow against the monsters that have claimed so much of their homeland.

Many join the Legion to clear the slate. Criminals join to avoid punishment. The dishonored join so that their houses and families need not suffer on their behalf. The bankrupted join so their debts might be forgiven. A very few join for a last chance at glory, but the Legion takes them too.

This group hopes to reach the fabled fortress of Bownammar, once the Legion's home, associated with the greatest of their Paragons. Bownammar is a holy place, its loss the last great blow against the dwarven kingdoms, and its recapture would be a glorious signal to all of Orzammar. But capture it or no, all of these warriors will die in the Deep Roads. It is a sobering thought, and I now know why the dwarves say the Legion's charge is the battlefield's most frightening sight. They have nothing left to lose.

--From Stone Halls of the Dwarves, by Brother Genitivi, Chantry scholar

And this is why the epilogue makes a big deal out of retaking Bownammar, it was lost back in the first blight in Origins rather than just 20 years before.

Tevinter books are burned on sight in southern Thedas.

Traditional Dwarven Folk Songs said:
Nug sits in the mud
Nug wiggles his ears
You catch the nug, he slips away!
Nug gets to live another day!

Nug sits in the mud
Nug wiggles his toes
You hook the nug, he slips away!
Now the nug runs off to play!

Nug sits in the mud
Nug wiggles his nose
You tickle the nug, he laughs away!
Now the nug sits on my plate!

-- Nug Pancakes, a well-loved dwarven nursery rhyme.

Now I'm just completely baffled.

Next I went to the assembly.

Lord 1: Your mind has gone to dust if you think we would pass such a writ. Half our houses would go broke without the surface trade.

Lord 2: The proposal is only effective until we have a king to ensure we are respected by the surfacers!

Lord 1: Leaving you conveniently positioned to take over all contracts. I'll see your head on a pike, first!

Steward Bandelor: Deshyrs, lords, and ladies of the Assembly. I've already doubled the guard to prevent violence. Must I summon more?

Lord 1: Steward Bandelor, Bhelen's sympathisers are tying our hands with trivialities! They may as well open us to the sky!

Lord 3: I suggest we put the matter to a vote.

Lord 2: And I suggest you have a taste of my family's mace--

Bandelor: Enough! The Assembly is in recess until the members can regain control of their emotions!

*walks out*

Stone-forsaken fools and dusters... So it's true. The exile has returned and we are to treat you as a respected guest.

Duran: Do as you wish, Steward Bandelor. You always have.

Bandelor: It's the one perk to this position, child. Or should I call you "Warden?" I'm glad to hear the surfacers are making use of your talents. Respect for your role is great, but you won't receive a proper hearing until we have a king on the throne.

Duran: Is there any way I can break this stalemate?

Bandelor: I must admit, Warden, I am at a loss myself. It lies with Prince Bhelen or Lord Harrowmont, and they are slow to trust anyone in these uncertain times. Dulin Forender, Harrowmont's man, can be found at the Harrowmont estate. Vartag Gavorn, Prince Bhelen's second, is often here in the Assembly. I only wish there was more I could do for you. At this point, they're stone for stone. I wouldn't put any coin on the outcome. It's still up in the air, though. One big surprise, and it could go either way.

Parliamentary brawls, how many of those can you get away with having before a civil war breaks out?

Anyways I apparently went straight to Vartag for this one.

Vartag Gavorn: I heard you returned to us, exile. What insult do you mean by coming here?

Duran: I never got to congratulate my brother on his rise to power.

Vartag: It's difficult to believe that. After you left, many cruel accusations fell on Bhelen. He could only assume they came from you. Why would he trust you now?

Duran: (persuade) It's part of the game. He won. I'd have done the same.

Vartag: If you wish to convince me of your good will, you'll have to show you've put the past behind you.

Duran: (persuade): If Bhelen promises me troops, I'll help him take the throne.

Vartag: So you really have thrown your lot in with the surface. Very well. As long as you understand Orzammar is Bhelen's. I will allow you the chance to prove it.

Duran: What must I do?

Vartag: Harrowmont has been buying the votes of every deshyr he can turn, but he is running out of promises. Recently, he offered the same estate to both Lady Dace and young Lord Helmi. He hopes the vote will pass before he has to pay up. I have the promissory notes, but they know of my loyalties to Bhelen. If you, on the other hand, brought them the evidence... They know you have little love for your brother and will believe you. Prove your loyalty and perhaps you'll get the reunion you desire.

Duran: I'll find Lady Dace and Lord Helmi right now.

Vartag: Lady Dace doesn't leave the quarter much, but Lord Helmi's adventurous, likes to spend his time at Tapsters... in the Commons. Remember, don't tell them you got these papers from me. You learned of them and drew your own conclusions.

Sadly, 2016 me did not get any screenshots of Vartag's no doubt sarcastic reply to the "I don't need his trust. I just want his head!" option when trying to convince him to give Duran an audience with Bhelen. And yeah the papers are pretty obviously forged.

I'd forgotten how nice dwarven clothes are by DA:O standards.

Lady Helmi: What do you want? Are you a messenger from some other deshyr?

Duran: Do you not recognise me? I am Prince Duran!

Lady Dace: The exile? Your house declared you dead. I have no business with you.

Duran: You might want to have a look at these papers.

Lady Dace: Well... this isn't exactly a surface broadsheet. Where did you get these? Never mind. It is true enough. But there is nothing I can do about it. This deal was made on behalf of our entire house. Only my father can revoke it.

Duran: Where is he? I'll bring these to him.

Lady Dace: He is leading a Deep Roads expedition, trying to secure an ancient thaig. It's unlikely he'll be back before the election, but perhaps this vote is important enough for you to brave the tunnels to tell him? The Dace family would be in your debt.

Duran: How would I know where to find your father?

Lady Dace: He was searching an old Aeducan site. Actually, it's the same place you had all that distasteful business with your brother Trian. I'll give you a pass as well. Usually, no one is allowed past the front lines. Does this mean you'll go?

Duran: Yes. I'll leave right now.

Lady Dace: So Bhelen's victory means enough for you to risk your life. How interesting...

I wish this got referenced when House Dace pops up again. As for why no one's allowed past the front lines, I can only imagine that they're comprised of barrier doors wherever Orzammar can stick them to go along with cave-in after cave-in.

On the way out Oghren makes his first appearance.

As you can see, he's not allowed to carry any weapons in Orzammar.

Oghren: It'll be two years tomorrow! By all the holy sodding ancestors, how can you people just ignore that?

Loilinar: Branka didn't go alone, Oghren. She took the whole house. Everybody but you. So just get over to Tapsters and drown yourself already. You know as well as I do that's how this always ends.

Oghren: You think I'm afraid of some cub warrior who's barely off the teat? I'll--

Loilinar: You lift a weapon or attack a single citizen in Orzammar and you're stripped of your caste and exiled. Even you can't have forgotten that. Get out of here before I call a guardsman.

Nice little introduction scene, it shows off that he cares about his wife, that he's got a serious temper and Orzammar practically wants to kick him out already for it and that he's an alcoholic in four sentences.

Loilinar: Can you believe it? Oghren's barely even Warrior Caste anymore, and he just clomps in here like he's entitled!

Duran: Who is Oghren?

Loilinar: Oghren's a drunken wretch. He comes up here two, three times a week, hounding people to lead some suicidal rescue mission after Branka. Gets quite violent about it. I'd be scared if they hadn't practically gelded him after he killed young Lord Meino.

Duran: What do you mean, "gelded him?"

Loilinar: Well he killed Lord Meino's youngest son in a duel to first blood. It was a huge scandal. Oghren should have been executed, but he'd won honours in the Deep Roads. Instead, they stripped him of all weapons and forbid him from engaging in fights within city limits.

Duran: Why does Oghren care so much about Branka?

Loilinar: (sighs) She's still his wife, isn't she? Even if she took their entire house into the Deep Roads and abandoned him.

Duran: Branka was married to that drunk?

Loilinar: Well, before she was a Paragon, she was just a smith, and Oghren was one of the best warriors of his generation.

Duran: How did she become a Paragon?

Loilinar: She invented a smokeless fuel that let the Smith Caste increase their output by nearly a third. Deaths from the black lung also dropped. The Assembly said she had the favour of the ancestors and declared her a Paragon. They moved Branka, Oghren, and all their relatices to the Noble Caste and founded a new house in her name.

Duran: Why did Branka go into the Deep Roads?

Loilinar: Chasing some old treasure. She was quite secretive. Outright rude, really. Said she never asked to found a house, that she didn't care about politics (can't blame her there), and that we were too self-absorbed to defeat the darkspawn. She actually threatened anyone who said they'd come after her.

Duran: I should get going now.

Loilinar: If you see any guardsmen, tell them Oghren was at it again.

And that's Branka's first explicit intro, she had a lot of good points before she dumped almost everything resembling morality and decency.

On the way out of the Diamond Quarter, the Carta are going after a wine merchant.

Roggar: So, I been hearing rumours that a certain wine merchant is falling behind on his payments.

Merchant: I... can't imagine what you mean. I pay my expenses--

Roggar: What about the expenses your good friend Jarvia incurs when providing your protection? It's not easy ensuring nothing bad happens, that no one decides to just... burn everything in your store...

Merchant: My store! Please... I don't have much. Business isn't good... people are scared... T-tell Jarvia I'll get her money, I--

Roggar: Jarvia's not happy with your promises, old man. Now, let's go inside and see what you've been holding back.

*follow them inside*

Merchant: T-this is all I have right now. I could get more if I sell something--

Roggar: Well, well. Looks like we have a visitor. Friend of yours?

Merchant: You... g-get out of here. This is private business.

Duran: Looks more like extortion.

Merchant: Please. Don't get involved with this. You don't know what they're like!

Roggar: Then allow me to make some introductions. These are dangerous times in Orzammar, stranger. Lucky us, the merciful Jarvia is offering protection from the chaos. You're wearing some fancy stuff there. Might make you a target. So if you want the carta's guarantee of safety, it's yours for the reasonable price of ten gold sovereigns. Or I can't say what might happen.

Duran: That sounded like a threat.

Roggar: Are you going to make your donation to the stranger-safety fund, or do I have to show you how dangerous Orzammar is?

Duran: Show me.

Thug: Whatever you say, dead man.

*one massacre later*

Merchant: What have you done? Great ancestors, he's dead! In my store. I have to get out of here. I have to hide. Jarvia will hunt me down for this.

Duran: Jarvia runs the carta? Know anything about that?

Merchant: She's a monster, plain and simple. The carta used to prey only on their own kind. But since Jarvia stepped in, they even dare the upper city. Whoever takes the throne had better root out the whole nest of them. That carta's worse than a pack of cave rats.

Duran: What do you know about her carta?

Merchant: A band of casteless thugs. They're to blame for all the crime in Orzammar these days. They're criminals and the children of criminals. The ancestors themselves declared them irredeemable.

Duran: The caste divide is deep indeed.

Merchant: They're casteless, they're all the same. Beggars, thugs, and murderers, every one. Actually... we shouldn't be talking here. I-I need to run.

And that's how rushing in to save a shopkeeper without thinking might well have screwed him longterm (if the carta didn't get massacred before they could do anything), a bit of a running theme in Orzammar quests. Though how exactly does he make his wine?

There's also a woman praying on the way to Dust Town.

Filda: I'm sorry. Did you have an offering for the ancestors? I can move aside. I don't have much to bring them.

Duran: What were you praying for?

Filda: My name is Filda, widow of Teruck of the Smith Caste. I pray here every day for my son, Ruck. I only wish I knew whether I should be asking for his safe return or for the ancestors to accept his soul.

Duran: "Safe return?" Your son is missing?

Filda: It was five years ago. He was only a youngster. He joined a Deep Roads excursion -- the only smith to go with the warriors to repair their arms. He was so proud. But he got... separated somehow. When they came home, he wasn't with them.

Duran: Did anyone go after him?

Filda: The captains don't want to lose anyone searching for stray men. Too many were taken by darkspawn that way.

Duran: There are darkspawn in the Deep Roads (damn it 2016 me)?

Filda: The Deep Roads are where darkspawn come from. They descend for miles into the earth, and we must patrol them constantly lest we be overrun. I lost my husband to them. If I lost my son the same way...

Duran: We shouldn't abandon him. I'll look for him if you want.

Filda: How? There is no way except to brave the Deep Roads yourself.

Duran: I'm a Grey Warden. That's what we do.

Filda: A Warden! So you could do it! Only Wardens face the Deep Roads without a company backing them (I think this is the quote I was fishing for). Oh, thank you! The ancestors finally heed my prayers! Please. Find me as soon as you return!

Poor woman, Ruck is probably better off dead.

The last sidequest before Tapsters is Brother Burkel starting a chantry in Orzammar of all places. I suppose it's not too surprising to see the religious arm of Orlais get a bit closer to the lyrium supply.

Burkel: Maker's blessing on you, brother.

Duran: Why are you invoking a human god?

Burkel: The Maker brought forth this world and every creature in it. He chose a human woman as His prophet and bride, but He loves all races. I'm Brother Burkel, of the Redcliffe chantry, returned to my ancestors' land to spread the Chant of Light.

Morrigan: Even in the very bowels of the earth, we hear no end of this chant.

Burkel: And that is something to rejoice in, good sister! I'm petitioning to open a chantry in Orzammar.

Duran: Why would we want a human chantry in Orzammar?

Burkel: There is... resistance. It's obvious the world wasn't created by the mortal souls who dwelt within it. Yet the dwarves of Orzammar persist in worshipping their own forefathers.

Duran: It's tradition. It's what we are.

Burkel: Will you allow a tradition to keep you from the path of enlightenment?

Duran: Whose permission do you need to open a chantry?

Burkel: The Shaperate controls changes in Orzammar's structure and society. I need the shaper of memories' permission to open a prayer meeting.

Duran: Do you want me to talk to him for you?

Burkel: Oh, I hoped you'd say that! I can see the Maker's hand on your shoulder, guiding you always.

Leliana: If this Chantry could help just one person as much as it helped me, it's worth any trouble.

Burkel: Please, let me know as soon as you've heard anything.

A chantry in Orzammar would lead nowhere good regardless of whether or not it was tolerated.

My other screenshots tell me that I accepted the quest so I cannot honestly tell you why Morrigan approves so much for helping to set up a Chantry.

Inside the pub, Lord Denek Helmi is chatting about the Provings and their stupid rules.

Denek: ...Told him I don't understand why the Provings aren't open to everyone. I mean, it's how the ancestors show their favour. Do they really need our help to decide who's worthy? And then he practically slapped me!

*conversation start*

Lord Denek Helmi, honoured deshyr of the Orzammar Assembly, and terrible disappointment to my esteemed mother, who doesn't like me spending time in taverns. So, I'm curious. You've been living on the surface, right? Does it function any worse than Orzammar for having abolished caste?

Duran: Things are hardly equal on the surface.

Denek: But there are those like you who see this with concern, no? Well, I've taken the time to actually talk to the other castes. You know, most smiths and tavern-keeps would make decent deshyrs if we gave them a chance and a seat in the Assembly. Orzammar is so mired in tradition no one bothers asking if the castes are even necessary.

Duran: How does the caste system work, anyway? (no dwarf specific stuff)

Denek: Badly. Oh, you're serious. Well, it's simple, I guess. The king and elected deshyrs of the Assembly are at the top, then it's the nobles... Then the warriors and all the craftsmen. At the bottom are servants, the casteless and criminals are below even that. Your caste is determined by your same-sex parent and that's where you stay for your whole life, whatever your skill.

Duran: I have news, Harrowmont is double-dealing you and Lady Dace.

Denek: Pffft. Oh. Well, I'd ask for proof, or why you care, but frankly, I'm so tired of it I'm not even surprised anymore. I don't even want the land, but my house would kill me if I turned it down. Responsibilities, you know. Now I'll have to go through the whole process of rejecting the deal, and they'll both have to try something else. And I thought it was going to be a nice day.

Duran: Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

Denek: You're just doing what you think is right. I'll have to inform mother that Lord Harrowmont hasn't bought our vote after all.

I get the feeling that Denek would become a surfacer within the year if Harrowmont won.

Hiding in Tapsters there's also a nervous adventurer.

Adventurer: They're everywhere. I can't take it. What! Get away! You'll change, like the rest. Monsters hidden in all my friends!

Duran: What are you talking about?

Adventurer: They follow you. Once you are in the story, they possess your friends and follow. See, I found copies. All from the same pen and older than the ones in song! Dormant, my arse! Take them! I want out!

I won't disappear chasing a lie! I won't!

Codex entry: Unbound said:
(Three weathered parchments, with three versions of the same incomplete story.)

Excerpt: And when his kingdom fell, so disappeared the stolen riches of an age. The beast, the Unbound, dormant until one of true spirit claims his throne. So must hunt the hero of his people, the principled who would search for ancient evil. This is how they can make a real difference.

(Scribbled in the corner in a shaky hand)
Three pages, three ages. Same story, updated.
Same as the tavern song, but older!
Signature torn on purpose, but compare and get "Vilhm Madon".
All from him! How?

Gaxxkang's a dick, set up some bait and whenever someone bites summon demons to fuck with them and their friends until they die.

Anyone want to argue about mages and enchanting things?

Enough messing around though, time to go after lord Dace.

Guard 1: I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you past the front lines without a deshyr's permission. And I've heard nothing of any new patrols scheduled to leave today.

Duran: I'm on business for Bhelen. I have to find Lord Dace.

Guard 1: I see you have his daughter's seal, so I will not stop you. But be careful. Just because the beasts have pulled back from Orzammar doesn't mean there are any fewer in the Deep Roads. Either we finally have the edge, which I doubt, or the beasts are building up numbers for the next attack.

Duran: Actually, they've made their move... on the surface.

Guard 2: The surface? But I thought the vermin never went up that far except--

Guard 1: Except during Blights. Ancestors save us if that's what's happening.

Duran: What do you know about Paragon Branka?

Guard 1: What anyone knows. She went out there with her entire house and she's never coming back.

Guard 2: You don't think maybe she's still there, Commander? She is a Paragon, after all.

Guard 1: And now she's an ancestor. No one lasts two years in the tunnels.

Duran: I should go.

Guard 1: Best of luck.

I'm surprised that the Dwarves get so antsy about Blights when they're the time when Orzammar gets to take a bit of a breather.

1155 of the Tevinter Imperium will be known as a year of painful decisions, but we cannot waver. The threat we face is the greatest we have known. If we are overrun, all trace of the ancestors' glory will be undone. Orzammar must stand, and it must stand alone. Hormak, Kal-Sharok, Gundaar: We have lost contact, and must assume they are lost to the horde. We must seal the weakest link in our defense, the Deep Roads that lead to our fallen brethren. I have ordered our finest demolitionists to place the charges. I ask that each of you think of those we have lost. They served as the warning that spurred us to action, and I know the Stone will embrace them. They are the foundation of our survival, and they will not be forgotten."

--From a proclamation by High King Threestone

200 years! Kal Sharok lives, you Stone-forsaken deep lords. There is no greater hatred than a brother at your throat!

--Graffiti, author unknown

I know Kal Hirol probably hadn't been invented by the writers at this point but I guess this does provide a timeline for when exactly it's supposed to have fallen.

I'm struggling to reconcile this map with the bit about how Ortan Thaig is in eastern Ferelden from The Calling.

In Aeducan Thaig there's not much to screenshot outside of the fact that you can pick up a random bag of demonic limbs.

Asunder said:
The ritual was very specific, as such things probably should be. Torso, head, and limbs spread amongst the Deep Roads to prevent the creature from returning. Looks like they died during the cutting, but we can fulfill the last part in their stead. I'm not familiar with elven ritual--why would I be--but it seems pretty straight forward.

--Shaper Axus

(Scribbled in the corner)
Never even saw the thing. Bet a sword would take care of it.

Sod it, and this bag of legs.

I take it that their expedition was a catastrophic failure if they got knocked down to four guys all surrounded by enemies.

Lord Anwer Dace: You pulled us from a tight spot, friend. You have my gratitude. I am lord Anwer Dace. I heard nothing of another expedition. What brings you here so fortuitously?

Duran: You should look at these papers.

Anwer: I don't understand. What could--? These are the terms of a deal we made with Lord Harrowmont, but... the charlatan He's promised the exact same land to Helmi! Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I owe you twice now, my life and my house's fortune.

Duran: (Persuade) Will you tell your daughter not to vote for Lord Harrowmont?

Anwer: We will certainly not support a man who would use my family like that. I will tell everyone I know what a wretched trick Harrowmont tried to play. I must return now. My men need healing and I want to look into this. Do you wish to travel with us?

Duran: Sure. Safety in numbers, right?

Anwer: Then let us reach Orzammar before more beasts find our scent.

Okay, maybe I was wrong about the papers being obviously forged, both houses looked at the papers and recognised their half of the papers as genuine.

Vartag: Lady Dace just came through the quarter on a tear. She's telling everyone who'll listen what a leech and a liar Harrowmont is. Good job. It's touching to see how strong your love is for your brother. He's ready to see you now, if you wish.

Duran: Of course. I've missed him so.

Vartag: I'm going to assume that wasn't sarcasm. I warn you, be on your best behaviour. And keep your weapons sheathed.

*fade to black*

Bhelen: Well, who would have imagined... My big brother, returned from the grave, and with the might of the Grey Wardens behind him. I could hardly believe it when Vartag said you wished to help me regain the throne.

Duran: Just tell me the truth, did you poison Father?

Bhelen: Father died of grief. He couldn't bear to live when you were gone.

Duran: Why did you do it, Bhelen? What did I ever do to you?

Bhelen: You'd have acted against me in a heartbeat if I hadn't done it first. The same way you turned everyone in the Assembly against Trian. The same way our father--may the ancestors bless him--convinced his elder brother to enter a Proving against a convicted murderer. Who do you think gave the murderer the poison to put on his blade?

Duran: You're wrong. I never plotted against you or Trian.

Bhelen: You should thank me then; you could never handle the throne. A king of Orzammar must be ruthless. He has to tell the Assembly to snap to or shut down. He has to accept that in any battle, against darkspawn or politicians, there are casualties. Neither you nor Harrowmont is that king.

Duran: I guess I can't blame you for playing a winning hand.

Bhelen: And I guess you've finally learned something about politics. Now, Vartag tells me you're here seeking allies against the Blight. You were right to turn to me. Harrowmont would bow and dandle you on his knee like a child, but he could never overcome the Assembly's resistance to your treaty. This is a time for action, not cultured debate. We need absolute unity to fight against the fulcrum of true evil.

Duran: You never were willing to hear the voice of dissent.

Bhelen: Unfortunately, while this debate rages, I have no power to send the troops you need. You've seen for yourself, the city is a slaughterhouse. Criminals run lawless. I could never hold the throne if I allowed such chaos.

Duran: I thought you were such a strong ruler, Bhelen.

Bhelen: I can hold my throne, thank you. But I cannot hold it and send the troops you need. Or do you take back that request? I didn't think so. Now, I will help when I can, but I must send what troops I have now to combat Jarvia and her so-called carta.

Duran: I saw Jarvia's men threatening a merchant.

Bhelen: They know Orzammar is divided now and has no time for them. It's made them bold. If I show the city I can eliminate such a threat... Well, let's just say my position would be stronger.

Duran: (Persuade) If I help you, I want you to help my son.

Bhelen: Your son? What are you-- Oh, that's rich. You're talking about that casteless girl, aren't you? The one that came around claiming an Aeducan son. That was yours? I never figured you for that sort of man. But put me on the throne and I'll give the whore and her brat the Aeducan name, and a lovely room in the smallest palace. Now, will you help me against Jarvia or not?

Duran: I'll go look for her right now.

Bhelen: And I will wait eagerly for your return.

So to unpack that conversation, Bhelen believes (or at least pretends to) that his father got up to the same kind of plotting that he did against his elder siblings in the name of the throne and feels not a bit of guilt over the whole plot wiping out both of his brothers and his father. He's an asshole but he's a necessary one.

Caged in Stone said:
(The inscription is old and worn, overlooked by most as a carving detail)

The beast is foreign, but the need is familiar. Home and hearth suffer beneath strength and strangeness. These new kin of this Fereldan are better as friends than strangers, so we resist on their behalf, and work with their users to bind with the Stone. They no longer fear their skies, and we further our trade above.

Lured from above, cornered and coralled. Three standing in position, a fourth signals the throne. Stasis for the beast, so long as a king holds the throne. So long as a king wills it held.

--Inscription, circa 5:90 Exalted

I can think of a thousand better places to seal a goddamn dragon than the middle of the throne room.

Ageless said:
The markings suggest many have held this blade, but their identities are not just that obscure, they are forgotten completely, as if by intent. The blade, however, endures, becoming better for each owner who raised it--for the time being--in triumph. Not a benefit willingly given or easily exploitable.
Weakens nearby darkspawn
Messy kills
Increases hostility and intimidation
+4 damage vs. darkspawn

I'd like this sword but the weaken nearby darkspawn, messy kills and increase hostility effects aren't implemented. They do absolutely nothing.

And then there's these morons, just about the worst infiltration plan I could think of.

In Dust Town I meet Rogek the lyrium smuggler.

Rogek: Who're you? You don't look like any guardsman I ever saw, and that's not much of a uniform.

Duran: (Persuade) I'm Duran, a Grey Warden.

Rogek: Oh? You looking for a chance to bring in some coin? Could be I have that opportunity. Especially for someone with a few connections above-ground.

Duran: I'd have to hear what you're asking.

Rogek: Human kings, you know, they make these ridiculous laws. Like about who gets to buy and sell Lyrium, the sacred gift the Stone provides us to show her love. No law should regulate that. The laws are meant to keep mages away from the stuff, so there's always buyers in the Circle Tower. I've got one man, name's Godwin, he's expecting a delivery of a stone's weight. You want an investment opportunity, I could see fit to, say, sell you that lyrium instead--at the reasonable price of fifty sovereigns. You can keep it or--since you can travel freely from here--sell it to Godwin, who you know is buying. And, uh, if you bring back his return order, I could pay you... say twenty sovereigns as a finder's fee?

Duran: (persuade) Fifty's a bit much when you've got no options. Forty.

Rogek: (sigh) You haggle like a merchant-born. Deal. Here's the lyrium, then. You, ah, probably don't want to take it out of the box. I'll be waiting for the next order somewhere out of sight. Say... just around the corner?

No points for guessing why this quest isn't done in the default Keep settings, kind of odd that it was done IC too but what's done is done.

Coincidentally the book thief is right there.

Shady Corebit (no clue what this means): What do you want, Warden? You're out of your element down here.

Duran: I'm looking for a thief who dared steal from the Shaperate.

Shady Corebit: Is that so? What makes you think anyone here would turn me... I mean, this person in? You've walked into a sodding fight, Warden, and I've already passed your stupid tome along. Too bad for you.

One slaughter later he drops a proving receipt though how he got in there as a casteless a mystery.

After that it's time to get Leliana a nug.

Idle Dwarf: Your clothes are so fancy. Did you get them topside?

Duran: I'm Duran, pleased to meet you.

Idle Dwarf: My mam used to say they don't got no stone to protect them topside. If I go up there, I'm a-gonna fall into the sky.

Duran: No, that doesn't happen.

Idle Dwarf: Yes... when my da left, he never came back. Who's to say he didn't fall up, eh?

Duran: I have to go now.

Idle Dwarf: Don't fall into the sky when you go back up there!

Leliana: It is so strange--harsh, yet beautiful.

Duran: Yes, it is very grand.

Leliana: And have you seen those tiny pig-like burrowing animals? They are adorable. I wish I could have one as a pet. But they must be hard to catch and... oh, just ignore me. I'm so silly sometimes. Let's just go.

Idle Dwarf: Yes? Why's someone like you hanging about Dust Town so much?

Duran: Do you know anything about the small rodents down here?

Idle Dwarf: Nugs? Yes. They don't got much meat on them, but down here, you can't be picky. Better than nothing.

Duran: Could you catch one for me?

Idle Dwarf: What for? You going to cook him up yourself?

Duran: My friend would like one as a pet.

Idle Dwarf: Yeah, I can find a nug for you. Could even get one from outside the city. Those ones in the deeps don't eat as much garbage. Don't know what they eat but they always seem healthier, you know? Shiny coats, bright eyes. How much you giving me?

Duran: Twenty silver.

Idle Dwarf: Real silver, huh? I'll get you a big one for that. Give me some time. I'll hunt him down for you.

And that's how Schmooples was caught.

Codex Entry: Nug said:
"Hip deep in mad nugs.
Our screams deafen their keen ears.
We will be nug poop."

--From Songs That Only Nugs can Hear by Paragon Ebryan, 5:84 Exalted

The nug is an omnivore common to the Deep Roads, a hairless creature that is almost blind as well as completely docile. It spends most of its time wading in shallow pools as well as mud pits, feeding on small insects, worms, and (in a pinch) limestone and simple metals. Indeed, the digestive system of the nug is legendary, able to make a meal out of almost anything a nug finds on the cavern floors. Nugs reproduce rapidly, spreading into any niche within the Deep Roads they can find, and serve to support a variety of predators such as giant spiders and deepstalkers. So, too, do dwarves make meals out of them... nugs are, in the poorer slum portions of Orzammar, one of the most common sources of meat available. Some dwarves even domesticate the creatures, claiming to find the creature's high-pitched squeaks pleasing.

Huh, they can actually eat stone and metal for food, that helps explain how they survive the Deep Roads.

And one last side quest to accept (Orzammar has plenty to remind of just how shit a place it is).

Zerlinda: H-have you coin to spare, m'lord? It's for my son. He's sick. He hasn't any clean clothes to wear or anything to eat today. N-neither have I.

Duran: Your face isn't marked. What caste are you?

Zerlinda: I am nothing. My family has disowned me. I am no longer welcome in any Mining Caste hall. Unless... But no! I can't bear to even think of it!

Duran: What does your family want you to do?

Zerlinda: My son's father is casteless, as is he. I used to be a miner, but my parents stripped my caste and refused to accept me back. Unless I agree to abandon the child in the Deep Roads and pretend I never bore him.

Duran: Maybe I could reason with your family.

Zerlinda: Y-you would do that? But why?

Duran: I don't like to see a child suffer.

Zerlinda: Then I cannot offer you enough gratitude. But I warn you, my father is a stiff-necked man. His name is Ordel and he's usually at Tapsters in the evening. I do not think he will listen to you. But I will wait anxiously to see if you can do what you promise.

The caste system needs to die in a fire, there's nothing else I can really add here.

Nadezda: Well, look at that. It's not often ol' Nadezda sees a fine-dressed stranger here in Dust Town. Help a poor cripple?

Duran: I might have money if you have information.

Nadezda: What are you looking for?

Duran: Do you know a woman named Jarvia?

Nadezda: Know her? I used to run with her. Jarvia took ever the carta not more than a year ago, and already she's got every duster with both legs bearing swords for her.

Duran: Where could I find her?

Nadezda: Won't be easy. She's gotten real careful since Beraht died, real paranoid. She's got carta members all carrying these finger-bone tokens. She scratches some mark into them, so she'll know they came from her. There's doors to her base all over the city, but only one is ever open at a time, and if you show up without a token, you'd never know it was there.

Duran: Where do I find one of these tokens (she just told you, on a carta member)?

Nadezda: Can't help you there, salroka. The carta members keep them real tight. Now how about that coin you promised?

Duran: I'll give you ten silver. Take care of yourself.

Nadezda: I'll think of you when I go to bed with a full stomach.

As it turns out, you don't have to look very hard because Jarvia sends thugs after you without having them hide their tokens.

Carta thug: Jarvia said you were looking for trouble. Congratulations, you found it.

I don't know if the slouched over look of the other survivor is intentional or just a really lucky shot.

Carta thug: D-don't kill me! Sodding ancestors, what do they teach you on the surface? You fight like a bleedin' archdemon! Sweet bloody Stone, look at them all!

Duran (persuade): Tell me where your base is.

Carta thug: The base is below the city. Y-you can get through the wall of the third house on this row. Put this token through the slot and it'll open. Well... will you let me go now?

Duran: Yes. And you don't want to be at Jarvia's when I get there.

Carta thug: R-really? Oh, thank you. You're a... good person. How do they say it? The ancestors have shown their favour. Bless you!

I really, really don't see the appeal of a Nug as a pet.

Not-so-Idle Dwarf: I got him. He's all squirmy, but he's a big fellow.

Duran: Here's forty silver. Look after yourself.

Not-so-idle Dwarf: Forty silver? Real silver? I... I could buy something proper with that. A good meal... maybe a real blanket! I knew you'd be good on your word. Nice doing business.

Now to beat up the carta, when in doubt go with "Jarvia sucks lizard eggs?" for the password.

While wiping out the base, it turns out Leske is still alive.

Leske: Please... stranger... let me out. I see you bear no love for Jarvia. Please, help me.

*open door*

Leske: Th-thank you. We've been down here... It's been so long. M-my friend didn't make it. Just stopped eating one day and... All for a stupid bet!

RIP Natia

Eventually it's time for Jarvia who still looks the same so no screenshot for her.

Jarvia: So, Bhelen finally realised his throne means nothing if he can't hold it, yet he still doesn't bother to send his own men. Well, you picked the wrong side, stranger. It doesn't matter who's king, as long as there's a queen!

Duran: You're awfully cocky for someone whose entire carta is dead.

Jarvia: You'll pay for their deaths a hundred times over. Kill them! But leave the mouthy one alive; I have plans for him.

And that's how you single yourself out for being tortured to death in a one-liner.

With that it's time to loot.

Pushback Strikers said:
Lyrium-laced gloves that tempt with the possibility of a fortune-changing strike, while instilling the lack of sense to risk it. A dangerous escalation for an owner already so inclined.

So enchanting can not only affect luck it can also tilt your personality to make you more inclined to go for risky options.

Longrunner's Cap said:
Fight or flight, stamina is key. Commissioned and lost by a well-equipped but unheralded mercenary company.

I'm not sure how a hat's supposed to help that much with stamina.

To end this, the exit from the carta base is a hole in the wall of what was once Beraht's shop.

Janar: Gah! By all the beards of my ancestors! How did you... where did you come from? Y-you made a hole in my wall!

Duran: That hole leads to a tunnel in the carta's hideout.

Janar: It... it does? Oh, sod it. If people find out about this, my business will be ruined! They'll think I have something to do with Jarvia.

Duran: You didn't know about this?

Janar: No! I don't have anything to do with them! They're criminals! When they built this part of the city, they must have built over some tunnels. I swear, I had no idea. Aw, just leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with this. And if anyone comes asking, I'm gonna tell them you did it!

This really loses something without the voices but that's this part done. I promise the next won't take two and a half years.

Xkeizer · Sep 11, 2018

Nice to see this continuing.

The Curious Fan said:
Shale messes with and insults everyone in the

Pretty sure Sten is the only one who doesn't get insulted is Sten and possibly one other person for the most part.

Destynova1 · Sep 11, 2018

Re

aragons. One of them became Paragon for discovering the wonders of the nug!

Theravis · Sep 12, 2018

It lives!

The Victorian · Sep 12, 2018

Wow, I had no idea that someone was doing an LP of this game.

And while I'd always known that D:AO was ugly, seeing it again really hammers home just how visually repulsive this game is. Nearly everything is a shade of brown and grey, and most of it is heavily desaturated and washed out.

Orzammar, on the whole, is probably the worst section of the game. It's where BioWare's attempt at creating a "dark and gritty" fantasy goes off the rails into grimderp absurdity - in particular the whole "casteless dwarves" bit. Oh yes, let's take a segment of the population, refuse to allow them to participate in society in any way, not even as slaves or menial labourers, and leave them with nothing to do except dig around in the dirt. I'm sure that decision will never come back to haunt us! Even the untouchables of India or the Burakumin of Japan at least had jobs and functions within their society, even if they were considered low-status. Why don't the dwarves simply exile the casteless to the surface if they despise them so much? Or why don't the casteless simply leave for the surface themselves?

It makes the dwarves out to be punching bags for soapboxers...and to set up a contrived "morally grey" decision between Bhelen and Harrowmont. Harrowment appears to be the more decent candidate, but he's a social conservative who supports the stupidly-oppressive caste system, while Bhelen is a backstabbing scumbag but supports the abolition of the caste system. Which ultimately leads to the question of just why the Grey Warden (who might not even be a dwarf) is the one making the decision.

Fantasy politics fucking sucks.

Night_stalker · Sep 12, 2018

The Victorian said:
Orzammar, on the whole, is probably the worst section of the game. It's where BioWare's attempt at creating a "dark and gritty" fantasy goes off the rails into grimderp absurdity - in particular the whole "casteless dwarves" bit. Oh yes, let's take a segment of the population, refuse to allow them to participate in society in any way, not even as slaves or menial labourers, and leave them with nothing to do except dig around in the dirt. I'm sure that decision will never come back to haunt us! Even the untouchables of India or the Burakumin of Japan at least had jobs and functions within their society, even if they were considered low-status. Why don't the dwarves simply exile the casteless to the surface if they despise them so much? Or why don't the casteless simply leave for the surface themselves?

Especially since they NEED every Dwarf they can get to help fight off Darkspawn, but nooo, Caste Uber Alles.

Xkeizer · Sep 12, 2018

Night_stalker said:
Especially since they NEED every Dwarf they can get to help fight off Darkspawn, but nooo, Caste Uber Alles.

Thankfully at least ONE dwarf had enough common sense to realize this. Too bad he had it at a point when he couldn't share it with anyone else.

The Curious Fan · Sep 12, 2018

Destynova1 said:
Rearagons. One of them became Paragon for discovering the wonders of the nug!

I only wonder why it took so long for them to find it.

Xkeizer said:
Thankfully at least ONE dwarf had enough common sense to realize this. Too bad he had it at a point when he couldn't share it with anyone else.

He was from the thaig founded by a guy who preached that the caste system is bullshit, he had a bit of a leg up.

And since I forgot to ask in the last update, what do you all think of the golem choice?

Xkeizer · Sep 13, 2018

The Curious Fan said:
I only wonder why it took so long for them to find it.

He was from the thaig founded by a guy who preached that the caste system is bullshit, he had a bit of a leg up.

And since I forgot to ask in the last update, what do you all think of the golem choice?

To the first point, I want to blame dwarven traditionalism, but I can't remember if the DA dwarves are the kind that treat the concept of most new ideas with suspicion given a number of paragons gained their status by trying new ideas.

As to the second, while Golems are awesome, the price to be paid is questionable most of the time given the amount of people that can be trusted to do the right thing in Thedas with that kind of power isn't exactly all that high. Yet at the same time there's proof enough that it may be needed in some capacity. Could go either way honestly depending on whether you think you can trust Branka and potentially the future kings of Orzamarr as well as if you think the price is worth it.

Plus if you bring Shale things can potentially get a bit....... complicated.

Night_stalker · Sep 13, 2018

Xkeizer said:
Plus if you bring Shale things can potentially get a bit....... complicated.

Eh, only if you involve pigeons.

Gog · Sep 13, 2018

Pretty sure Shale will turn against you if you side with Branka.

The Curious Fan · Sep 13, 2018

Xkeizer said:
To the first point, I want to blame dwarven traditionalism, but I can't remember if the DA dwarves are the kind that treat the concept of most new ideas with suspicion given a number of paragons gained their status by trying new ideas.

They're fairly forward thinking with tech at least.

Gog said:
Pretty sure Shale will turn against you if you side with Branka.

Shale's not big on turning on a friend from before she became a golem after all.

The Curious Fan · Dec 7, 2018

Picking up where we left off with yet another example of fine Orzammar parenting.

Ordel: What are you looking at, stranger?

Duran: Are you Ordel?

Ordel: I could be. What business is it of yours?

Duran: (persuade) If you don't take Zerlinda back, she'll die.

Ordel: What? You think she'd die just to keep that thing? She knows what she has to do to come home. I never wanted her gone. Just the little cur. Can't she see she'd have a better life if she got rid of it?

Duran: Could you pretend your child never existed?

Ordel: I've been trying. It's not as easy as I thought. Look, just tell her... we never meant to hurt her. It just seemed best that... Oh, just tell her to come home. Her mother and I are waiting for her.

And with that Zerlinda is out of Dust Town.

Shale: How many other forms can the swamp witch become?
Morrigan: Several.
Shale: Can it become a golem?
Morrigan: Seeking companionship, are you?
Shale: If it could become a golem, I simply wonder why it would not stay that way. It is a superior form.
Morrigan: No, I cannot become a golem. I can learn to become animals, and each form must be learned anew.
Shale: And how does it learn a form? Does it read about it somewhere?
Morrigan: (Laughs) 'Tis not a talent one can read from books! You must copy a creature's soul!
Shale: I do not understand.
Morrigan: Nor should you. Rock is unchanging—allow it to stay that way.

I'm not sure if she's saying that she doesn't know how to do it or if becoming a golem is inherently impossible to learn, golems seem like they would be the best shapeshifting form besides high dragon between the endless stamina, the superhuman strength and the durability (and that's before getting into the variants).

Meanwhile the thief in the Provings drops a book on the relationship between ancestor lineage and the granting of mining permits in the Dead Trenches, a bit of an odd interest, was one of the noble families planning to make a push for the Dead Trenches while the Darkspawn are busy sacking Ferelden?

While at the Proving you can fight in a couple underground matches but the only interesting things there are the arcane warrior mook and the Blood Ring reward.

Item description: Images of dragons adorn this ring. Anyone who wears it gets the nagging sensation that someone is whispering nearby, just a little too softly to make out.

Codex: There are clear signs that this ring was made in the Tevinter Imperium, it's covered in dragon motifs, for one thing. And it gives anyone who wears it a slightly uneasy feeling, for another. But beyond that, very little is known about it. Warriors of House Ivo took this ring in the Blessed Age from the hand of a madman, a surfacer mage who had wandered into the underground and attacked lyrium miners near Orzammar. From there, the ring changed hands many times, until its history had been lost and the dwarves no longer remembered how it had ever come into their lands.

Of course they kept the ring with an unknown effect that makes you hear demons around for long enough to forget what it is. Why wouldn't you do that?

While there Lord Shaper Czibor got pestered too.

Czibor: When I last walked this hall, Endrin was king and Orzammar was at peace. The Memories often speak of the swiftness with which change overtake us, but it is different to see it firsthand. I apologise, Warden. I should not burden a stranger with such thoughts. I am Czibor, the shaper of memories.

Duran: I am no stranger to Orzammar, my Lord Shaper.

Czibor: Your exile is written in the Memories, Warden. I am sorry, but Orzammar cannot be your home, nor I your shaper. We must all obey the ancestors' rules.

Duran: I would like your permission to open a Chantry here.

Czibor: That is an odd request. Have you grown so fond of the surfacers' ways in your brief absence?

Duran: I come on behalf of Brother Burkel, a cleric of Redcliffe.

Czibor: I thought so. This is not the first time he's made this plea. My answer to Brother Burkel hasn't changed, so I ask you the same. On what basis would you have me insult the ancestors and overturn two thousand years of tradition?

Duran: (Cunning) The Chantry's charities could greatly aid Orzammar.

Czibor: What sort of charities do you mean?

To cut this off halfway, these are the three charities that the Chantry supposedly does.

Caring for widows and orphans
Providing work for the casteless
Educating children

In my opinion, they don't really do that much of the first one (at least not without the intent of raising them to be yet another cog in the machine), they'll definitely do the second one and letting them do the third one is an absolutely horrible idea because their idea of education practices (no literacy, no numeracy, nothing taught except by the parents really) seem to be non-existent unless you count shoving the Chant down dwarven kids' throats as an education.

Czibor: Traditionally, that is their extended family's responsibility... but sometimes people fall through the cracks. Very well. He may hold a prayer meeting as he requested, if not build a new temple to his god. At least the words come from one of our own. Now, is there anything else?

Duran: No. I think you for your time.

Czibor: I will record this conversation in the Memories, I hope I do not come to regret it.

All in all it was surprisingly easy to rope him into letting the Chantry get it's foot in the door.

And I'm baffled at past me for forgetting to ask about Orzammar history but I guess I can always get that later.

Bhelen: Well, you've simply outdone yourself. They're talking all over the city about how someone finally went through Dust Town and slaughtered the carta like genlocks.

Duran: Then you will give my son his place?

Bhelen: When I take the throne, I'll give you troops for the Blight and a shiny Aeducan coat of arms for your by-blow. Unfortunately, I cannot say when. While many deshyrs appreciate my ending Jarvia's threat. Harrowmont still holds great loyalty. We need something more... dramatic to shift the balance.

Duran: What are you getting at?

Bhelen: What do you know of the Paragon Branka?

Duran: She was a smith and inventor.

Bhelen: Two years ago, she heard of something the ancients created. In inspired her to leave everything behind and venture into the Deep Roads. She is the only Paragon in four generations and she turned her back on her responsibilities. A paragon is like an ancestor born in this time. If she returned, her word would outweigh the entire Assembly. Anyone with her support could take the throne unchallenged.

Duran: What makes you think Branka is still alive?

Bhelen: She had an entire house with her, dedicated to her protection. With the number of ruins still intact, they could last for a long time. And Harrowmont is looking as well. It's too risky to assume she's dead, only to have him take credit for finding her.

Duran: Do you think she would support you as king?

Bhelen: I was hoping you could use your legendary charm to persuade her that the rightful king should take the throne. However, if the Deep Roads have... addled her wits, it might be best she not return before the kingship is decided.

Duran: Are you saying I should kill her?

Bhelen: I would never say that. She is a Paragon, it is my duty to protect her. On the other hand, we must respect her decisions... Should she prefer to stay in the Deep Roads rather than help her rightful king take the throne, we must assist her. By any means necessary.

Duran: What is Branka like?

Bhelen: I did not know her personally. Two years ago, I was still considered a child, not one to consort with Orzammar's finest. From what I hear, her intellect was unrivaled, but the social graces were... beneath the notice of one so gifted.

Duran: I will find her for you.

Bhelen: Then we will both go down in history as a Paragon's saviors. So far, my men have traced Branka to Caridin's Cross, an ancient crossroad lost to the Darkspawn four centuries. Her trail ends there. Perhaps with your Warden expertise, you can find what my men could not.

Duran: Where is Caridin's Cross?

Bhelen: You must enter the Deep Roads through the mines. To protect the city, that's the only path we leave open. Caridin's Cross lies many miles deep into the tunnels. It was once a main thoroughfare, but before Branka, no one had stepped foot there in generations.

Duran: I'll leave right now to find her.

Bhelen: You have my thanks. Seek her in Caridin's Cross. I will try to delay the vote until you return.

If it wasn't already obvious, this would be where they didn't go far enough in including Dwarf dialogue and instead left most of the conversation as just rehashing things they should already know.

And for some context on when Caridin's Cross was lost, this was most likely during the fourth blight when Tevinter called on them to help relieve the siege of Marnas Pell, the dwarves lost Ortan Thaig at the same time (but that place had it's own fuckery going on).

These arrows were designed to pierce through thick darkspawn hides.

Rare bit of trivia, Darkspawn hides are supposed to be thick enough to warrant a specific type of crossbow bolt. Not that it's ever been relevant anywhere outside of this description.

I want to hear the story of how a drunk Oghren roped someone into carrying that axe he's not allowed to carry for him until he got to city limits.

Oghren: There you are. I thought I'd spoken to a Grey Warden, but for some reason I'd chalked it up to the drink. Ah. I know you're down here to look for Branka, and, uh, I need to ask a favour.

Duran: Why not? Everyone else does.

Oghren: Name's Oghren, and if you've ever heard of me before, it's probably all been about how I piss ale and kill young boys who look at me wrong. (laughs)

And that's mostly true, but the part they never say is how I'm the only one still trying to save our only Paragon. And if you're looking for Branka. I'm the only one who knows what she was looking for, which might be pretty sodding helpful in finding her.

Duran: And what do you want in return for this information?

Oghren: I know what Branka wanted and how she was looking. You, presumably, know everything Bhelen's scouts have discovered about where she disappeared. If we pool our knowledge, we stand a chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck.

Duran: Sounds like we have a deal.

Oghren: You should know that Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void, the secret to building golems, which was lost centuries ago. The smith Caridin built it, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, while it was protected by the golems forged on the Anvil. As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start looking there, if she could ever find it. All she knew was that it was past Caridin's Cross. No one's seen that thaig for five hundred years.

Duran: Bhelen gave me a map. I can get to Caridin's Cross.

Oghren: If we're going, let's get moving. Branka's not going to sodding find herself.

And this is Oghren, self-loathing drunkard and practically Branka's widow. Underneath the crude humor and sexual harassment there's character depth but I can't blame you if you don't want to sift through it. Also his drunken history lesson has a few holes in it.

Oghren: Caridin's Cross! I can't believe Bhelen actually tracked this place down. This used to be one of the biggest crossroads in the old empire. You could get anywhere from here. Including Ortan Thaig.

Duran: What's so important about Ortan Thaig?

Oghren: It's the home of Caridin, the Paragon who made the Anvil. He was an Ortan before he founded his own house, and even then, he spent most of his time in Ortan Thaig. Branka figured it was the best guess for where the anvil was located.

Duran: Do you know anything else about the Anvil?

Oghren: No one but Caridin ever really knew more than that it had some kind of Stone-blessed power. Every golem who ever ranged across the empire was hammered on the steel of that Anvil, but no one ever knew exactly how they were made. But Branka was sure she could find out.

Duran: See any sign of Branka yet?

Oghren: Not a one, but trust me, we will once we're on the path to the old Ortan Thaig. She was going to Caridin's home.

Duran: Great. Let's go.

Oghren: I've been waiting for someone to say that for two sodding years.

Strangely, after this info dump I went straight back to camp.

Sten: You are not quite as callow as I thought. That is... unexpected.

Duran: Um... thanks, I guess.

Sten: You're welcome.

Duran: So will you tell me why you were caged?

Sten: I caged myself. A weak mind is a deadly foe, as you are no doubt aware.

Duran: Exactly what happened?

Sten: I came to your lands with seven of the Beresaad--my brothers--to seek answers about the Blight. We made our way across the Fereldan countryside without incident, seeing nothing of the threat we were sent to observe. Until the night we camped by Lake Calenhad. They came from everywhere: the earth beneath our feet, the air above us, our own shadows harbored the darkspawn. I saw the last of the creatures cut down, too late. I fell.

Duran: What happened to the other qunari?

Sten: I am told no others survived. I don't know how long I lay on the battlefield among the dead, nor do I know how the farmers found me. I only know that when I woke, I was no longer among my brothers. And by sword was gone from my hand.

Duran: What did you do?

Sten: I searched for it. And when that failed, I asked my rescuers what had become of it.

Duran: And then?

Sten: I killed them. With my bare hands. I did. I knew they didn't have the blade. They had no reason to lie to me. I panicked. Unthinking, I struck them down.

Duran: You panicked over a lost blade?

Sten: That sword was made for my hand alone. I have carried it from the day I was set into the Beresaad. I was to die wielding it for my people. Even if I could cross Ferelden and Tevinter unarmed and alone to bring my report to the Arishok, I would be slain on sight by the antaam. They would know me as soulless, a deserter. No soldier would cast aside his blade while he drew breath.

Duran: Couldn't you search for it?

Sten: If I knew where to look, it would be in my hand now.

Duran: Where did you fight the darkspawn.

Sten: Near Lake Calenhad.

Duran: Don't worry, we'll find it.

Sten: Perhaps those words are empty, but... thank you all the same.

That's just sloppy, having him be found and dragged across a fair chunk of the country by some farmers around Lothering. And this is also our first look at spirituality in the Qunari, I wonder how they react to your weapon getting broken in a battle?

Alistair: I once heard a really old legend about how the Hound Warriors, in the days of the old tribes, would feed their mabari the flesh of the vanquished.

SirRuffsaLot: (Whines)

Alistair: Well... that's what I heard anyway. It would sometimes be human flesh.

SirRuffsaLot: (Gagging noises, heaving)

Alistair: Oh, like you can tell the difference. For all you know, maybe you've already been fed something... someone.

SirRuffsaLot: (Scared whimper)

Duran: Don't listen to Alistair, he's full of rubbish.

Alistair: Hey!

No soft touch for someone who upsets the dog.

Shale: I see it found the augmentation crystals. I was not even aware it knew about them... well done! So? What does it think? They don't make me look any wider, do they? I find I am already too wide as it is.

Duran: They look... fine, I suppose.

Shale: Spoilsport! I think they're lovely! I think it should find some more as soon as possible. I want to glitter from ear to ear... so to speak!

----

Shale: (Sigh)

Duran: What's with the heavy sighs?

Shale: Oh? That. Merely reflecting on the hopeless nature of the task in front of it. The most likely outcome is that it and its companions will become a stain on some rock for the darkspawn to tread upon. I shall be moved to a single tear by the tragedy.

Duran: Glad to know you care, at least.

Shale: It's true. One single tear, and then it's off to the north. Or maybe west? I haven't decided. What's that? Did it hear flapping wings? There may be pigeons nearby, we should be alert!

I can only assume that the first dialogue is there to just make sure players know that the crystals go on Shale.

Back to Caridin's Cross

As it turns out, 3 warriors and a rogue at low levels is a bad party for the Deep Roads. I could have abused Sten's bullshit book of the dead but I forgot.

There's not much here besides a Bronto and the Crosscut Drifters.

"There's only two things a noble will step aside for: Paragons and angry brontos."
--Dwarven saying.

This hulking beast was originally bred by the dwarven Shaperate as a beast of burden and food source, the rough equivalent to surface oxen and cows. Some versions of bronto have even been developed as dwarven mounts, valued far more for their sure-footedness and stamina than for their speed. While present within Orzammar in large numbers, some bronto still exist in packs within the Deep Roads, having returned to a wild state after the fall of the dwarven kingdoms. They require remarkably little sustenance, consuming organic material from water, fungus and even rocks (hence the "rock-licker" appellation used by many dwarves to describe bronto), and exist in primarily dormant states until provoked. An angry, charging bronto is considered to be a rather dangerous opponent.

The unholy spawn of a rhino and a cow that's dangerous enough to survive being in the Deep Roads full time.

Crosscut Drifters said:
Fools and renegades, the lot of them. We accept that there is a time for ordered and educated treasure-hunting, but not when a foundation remains to be cut. What fortunes have they made, what houses have they elevated? The minor veins they have traced have satisfied neither this Assembly nor their own gambler's thirst. Their actions can only grow more erratic and undisciplined, and while no incidents have been reported, they will eventually undermine the stability of a major passage.

It is the opinion of this Assembly that prospecting be restricted until we can be certain of the stability of the Deep Roads. These "Crosscut Drifters" can find their fortune in a trade. Let animals burrow wherever their nose points them. Dwarves are meant to excavate by careful degrees.

--From an Assembly memorandum.

Rogan cut a beautiful line down a minor vein today, twisting his supports along the footwall like a backbone. He's got a gift for lagging; it's almost crystalline. I swear I could tap it and hear the Stone sing. "Non-standard" by any inspector's measure, but that's the sodding point, isn't it? We're letting the Stone take us where she wants, not gouging out highways so the palace can have another pantry. I suspect they will revoke our privileges at the next Assembly sitting. I say good luck to them; they'll never find us to deliver the writ. They are afraid of the road we travel.

We're close to a major strike. The Stone, she's pulling us to something, and to the vents if I'll let dwarves who deny their sense get in the way of it.

--From the journal of Brunar, founding fellow, Crosscut Drifters.

We can no longer tolerate your flagrant disregard of this Assembly and published excavation doctrine. The actions of your team have potentially compromised two future projects, resulting in an expensive redesign of the Deep Roads. Fortunately, development of the largest shaft will continue, or you would have faced additional fines. Claims that the Stone is directing your actions suggest that not only are you ignorant of preplanning procedure, you and your group may also be in the early stages of lyrium poisoning. You are in breach of Orzammar mining code and hereby forfeit all claims made during your unapproved activities. The Assembly expects your response within 30 days or your house, as well as those of your team, will face additional censure.

--Notice of Assembly censure.

Here's your response: Take a long breath from a short shaft.

B.

--Addendum by Brunar, founding fellow, Crosscut Drifters.

We found trouble all right. Rogan's lyrium vein led right to the flank of a darkspawn horde. From the look of their kit, the spawn were a week, maybe less, from breakthrough into that blasted new highway under Orzammar, and they'd be well behind any patrols. The Stone knew. She knew, and she drew her chosen with a promise of ore we could taste in our bones. If all goes well, losing this cavern will kill the darkspawn's taste for digging, and Orzammar will never know it was at risk. We'll be a distant tremor, a ripple in the royal fountain.

The charges are laid. We know it will work and we know the cost. The Stone has shown us the way home.

--From the journal of Brunar, founding fellow, Crosscut Drifters.

Two things here, the Crosscut Drifters are heroes and second this isn't the only example of the Stone being both real and active.

Next stop, Ortan Thaig, the home of weird dwarf magic.

Oghren: By the tits of my ancestors, Ortan Thaig. I never thought I'd see this place in the flesh. I can see Branka all over this place. She always took chips from the walls at regular intervals when she was in a new tunnel -- check their composition. If she was still here, though, she'd have sentries out by now.

Duran: What can you tell me about these ruins?

Oghren: This was Caridin's home thaig. He was an Ortan before he got raised to Paragon. Even stayed here when he could have had his own house. I guess he didn't want to move his people to Bownammar.

Duran: What's Bownammar?

Oghren: The city of the dead. Caridin built it to honor the Legion of the Dead, but it was more like a sodding mausoleum than anything. Of course, that was all before he built the Anvil. After that, he was the city's pet genius until he angered the king and fell into disfavor.

Duran: So there was a city here?

Oghren: No, no, there was a thaig here, the Ortan Thaig. Bownammar is north and west of here, but that's not important. Or at least... I hope it isn't. The City of the Dead is known as the Dead Trenches since the darkspawn conquered it. Much of the Legion was destroyed when the fortress fell.

Duran: Let's get going.

Oghren: Couldn't have said it better myself.

And because I'd forgotten here's a proper closeup of Oghren's beard (featuring disapproving Sten), for a drunk that it looks really well kept and clean.

The spiders from The Stolen Throne are still here and still aggressive enough to eat an ogre.

There's no sightings of anything related to Maric's ridiculous sword (more on that when it's time for Return to Ostagar) or to the prince that became an abomination (after calling a demon somehow, was he like Valta?), but there are some ghosts and an altar.

To this day there has been no explanation for how Ortan Thaig fell despite clearly being still occupied by golems and by ghosts willing to kill intruders. Or indeed any explanation about why there are ghosts/spirits at all, who knows, maybe they're ones rejected by the Stone.

The only other place this altar is used is for the Arcane Warrior phylactery and I'm not sure which one is the reuse.

The ritual was very specific, as such things probably should be. Torso, head, and limbs spread amongst the Deep Roads to prevent the creature from returning. Looks like they died during the cutting, but we can fulfill the last part in their stead. I'm not familiar with elven ritual--why would I be--but it seems pretty straight forward.

--Shaper Axus

(Scribbled in the corner)
Never even saw the thing. Bet a sword would take care of it.

Sod it, and this bag of legs.

****
Might not be elven, maybe human. Doesn't matter, we can still follow direction. Torso, head, and limbs bagged and dispersed. Simple enough. This magic stuff doesn't seem that complicated.

--Shaper Axus

(Scribbled in the corner)
No job for a warrior! First hole gets the bag!

****
(A torn ritual page of indeterminate origin.)
The body rendered to its separate parts, spread wide such that no life is witnessed, no heartbeat detected. In this way, the beast can remain for an age, as knowledge passes and pursuers live out their lives.

(Scribbled in the corner)
I was wrong! Not elven! Hunters didn't kill it. It allowed this?
Keep the pieces apart, I guess. Away from the heart.

****
The scratchings should be unreadable, but meaning swims in your head, as though whispered:

The limbs, mere meat.
The torso, but a vessel.
The head, all but unnecessary.
The heart, separate, keeps life.
The heart, safe from the blade, can be restored.
The heart waits, in the Fade.

--Rough inscription, author unknown

What kind of plan involves playing dead for centuries? What would a pride demon need to hide from like this?

Fade Beast: You have restored that which was cut asunder, and revealed my hiding place. Speak your intention. Seek you vengeance or reward?

Duran: No deals with spirits. I'll destroy you for good!

Fade Beast: My deception was convenience, not cowardice. A fight you want, a fight you shall have!

Fun fact, you can abuse this guy for up to 100 sovereigns if for some reason you don't have enough gold with the Reaper's Cudgel. With that settle, it's time to meet poor Ruck.

The poor guy had to eat darkspawn to survive.

Ruck: There's nothing for you here! It's mine! I've claimed it!

Duran: Claimed it? Are you part of the clan who lived here?

Ruck: The clan...? No, no.. but it's still mine! Rucks been here for years now, and no city dwarf will take him away!

Oghren: Bah! He's a bloody scavenger, good as sodding gone.

Ruck: Begone, you! You'll bring the dark ones back.. you will! They'll crunch your bones!

Oghren: Word has it you can only survive down here by eating the darkspawn dead.

Duran: Darkspawn blood is poison. Men have died from drinking it (like Daveth).

Ruck: It burns when it goes down. It burns. It's my claim, not yours! Crunch your bones!

*runs away from the spiders*

After a short fight Ruck is followed back to where he's living.

Ruck: Go away! This is mine! Only I gets to plunder its riches!

Duran: Is this Branka's campsite?

Ruck: It's mine! I'm the one who found it, I drove out the crawlers. Now it's mine!

Duran: (Persuade) I'm not here to steal anything, I promise.

Ruck: You-you won't take anything from Ruck? You won't take his shiny worms? Or pretty rocks?

Duran: If it's valuable, I might trade you for it...

Ruck: Oh. Ruck not mind that, maybe...

Duran: So your name is Ruck?

Ruck: Yes. Ruck's my name. I do not hear it much, so sometimes I like to speak it out loud. Ruck! Ruck! Ruck!

Duran: I think I met your mother. Is her name Filda?

Ruck: N-n-n-no. No Filda. No mother. No warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words! Ruck doesn't deserve good memories. No-no-no-no-no--

Duran: Your mother misses you. She asked me to find you.

Ruck: She-she did not know, not what I did. I was very, very, very, very angry and then someone was dead. They wanted to send Ruck to the mines. If I went to the mines, sh-she would know. Everyone would know. So I came here, instead. Once you eat... once you takes in the darkness... you not miss the light so much. You know, do you not? Ruck sees, yes. He sees the darkness inside you.

Duran: That... is a frightening thought.

Ruck: I means nothing by it...

Duran: How did you survive here?

Ruck: When the dark ones were here, I kept to the shadows. They don't look in the shadows, not if you are quiet. No if you eat their flesh. Then the dark ones think you're one of them. They leave you alone. But now they're gone.

Duran: Do you know where the 'dark ones' went?

Ruck: I thinks they went south. Far, far to the south. That-that is where the dark master calls them.

Oghren: Mmmm... He's talking about the archdemon, huh?

Ruck: After the dark master awoke, he called his children and they went. I wanted to go, too, and gaze upon his beauty (heh)...

Duran: Where is the dark master now? Do you know?

Ruck: He stopped calling. I wish I could go see him, but Ruck, no, no, Ruck-Ruck is a coward.

Duran: But there are still giant spiders here, correct?

Ruck: The crawlers. They used to eat the smallest dark ones. Now the crawlers go hungry.

Duran: When did you arrive here?

Ruck: Too long ago. I must think... five years? Six? Ruck no longer remembers the smells and sights of the city.

With dialogue like this, is it any wonder people want to imagine Ruck eventually got a happy ending somehow?

Duran: I need to ask you something else.

Ruck: I will answer your questions.

Duran: Did you find anything unusual at this camp?

Ruck: Bits of things, but only bits. The crawlers took almost everything. They take things of steel and things of paper. They takes the shinies and the words.

Oghren: Paper and words? That sounds like someone was taking notes. Do you think Branka camped here?

Ruck: They bring to the great nest, the nest they makes for the eggs. They puts the shinies inside.. they do.

That's very interesting, what could the spiders want with anything made of steel or anything written down? The best guess I can come up with is the taint driving them to gather weapons and things that can be melted for steel for the darkspawn and gathering any knowledge to destroy it.

The important thing to note here is the (dead) genlock emissary helping the corrupted spiders to defend their main nest. They're working together with what they're doing at the nest.

Bloodline: The stained surface of this repurposed broadaxe speaks to the lives and legacies that have fallen to it. The shamanistic runes across the cutting edge are as ugly as the work it is called to do.

Silk Weave Gloves: These gloves are impossibly light and comfortable, but merely brushing against the surface causes immediate irritation. Not exactly damaging to handle, but they are clearly weapons, not fashion.

Nothing special from the spiders except for Branka's journal.

(This looks like someone's journal. The cover is battered and torn, but intact. As you leaf through the desiccated pages, the text catches your eye. "We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in the Ortan Thaig. We will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond. My soldiers tell me I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil... If we find it. I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if it remains lost, so do we all. If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him.. No, what I have to say should be to his ears alone. This is my farewell.)

Oghren: Branka was thinking about me! I knew she still cared! Old softy. Looks like the Dead Trenches is our next stop, then. They say the darkspawn nest there, whole herds of em. But if that's where Branka went, then that's where I'm going.

She sounds so reasonable if a bit blasé about risking her soldier's lives, watch as that all flies out the window.

Out of what I can only assume was a desire to avoid doing the Deep Roads in one big block I go back to camp.

Sten: You called?

Duran: I have a question.

Sten: I am hardly surprised.

Duran: Do you find Ferelden very strange.

Sten: To put it lightly. No one has a place here. Your farmers wish to be merchants. The merchants dream of being nobles, and the nobles become warriors. No one is content to be what they are.

Duran: Is there anything you like about Ferelden?

Sten: There is... interesting food here. You have a thing... it doesn't have a word in the qunari tongue. Little baked things, like bread, but sweet, and crumbly.

Duran: Cookies?

Sten: Yes! We have no such things in our lands. This should be remedied.

Duran: I'll keep that in mind.

Sten: Shall we move on?

For a guy stuck in a place that's utterly alien to him with a bunch of dead friends and a guilty conscience Sten copes really well.

Morrigan: What have you here? A mirror? You could not know it, but I possessed something very similar long ago. I stole such a mirror from a village, and Flemeth was enraged at my carelessness. She destroyed it... much to my dismay. It is incredible that you found one so like it. I am uncertain what to say. You must wish something in return, certainly.

Duran: Don't be ridiculous. It's a gift, Morrigan.

Morrigan: You say that as if I should be accustomed to such a thing. I have... never received a gift, not one which did not come at a price. I suppose I should say thank you. For the gift. 'Tis... most thoughtful, truly.

So yeah, this is another part of how utterly terrible Flemeth's parenting is, she looks at the idea of getting a gift as a foreign concept (presumably because Flemeth gave her nothing for free as soon as she was able to get things like food herself). Flemeth was too busy beating ideas like "old magical things must be preserved" and ancient knowledge into her head to make a tool out of Morrigan to actually be a decent parent.

Morrigan: What? You found Flemeth's grimoire? Ever since we discovered the condition of the mage's tower, I had wondered if it might be recoverable... but I had yet to speak of it to you. How fortunate that you found it on your own. You have my thanks.

Duran: What do you hope to find within it?

Morrigan: Secrets. My mother has many of them, and this tome represents the one time they were able to get away from her. I do not intend to squander this opportunity to learn more than Flemeth wished me to know. This should be... interesting.

Somewhere, Flemeth is no doubt getting a kick out of the idea of Morrigan trying to get one over on someone who can probably see the future.

Morrigan: Ugh. Look at what your foul dog placed in my pack.

SirRuffsaLot: (He wags his tail)

Morrigan: A putrid half eaten hare is not something a woman wants to find in her unmentionables.

Duran: It's the thought that counts. He means well.

Morrigan: The dirty mongrel can have this back. There! and tell him not to do it again.

Duran: You heard the lady.

SirRuffsaLot: (Whines)

Morrigan: I don't want it, you worthless furbag!

SirRuffsaLot: (Whines sadly)

Duran: I think you hurt his feelings.

Morrigan: (Scoffs) He is just trying to be manipulative. I can tell. I do it too.

Ah, this old story, the pet tries to be nice with the gift of an animal. At least he didn't pick a live snake like my old cat did.

Now it's time for the first two parts of Sten's personal quest.

Charming fellow, picking the bones of long dead guys and darkspawn.

Scavenger: Back off! I was here first!

Duran: You haven't seen a sword lying around here, have you?

Scavenger: Why.. you looking to buy one?

Duran: No, but my very large, angry friend here is.

Scavenger: Ah... is he? Heh. Well... that's... see I'd like to sell you one, but I don't... er... have any myself. I got part of a glove the wolves didn't chew too badly, though! I think it was a glove, anyway... I know. Don't say it. I got cheated. I knew the guy who was here before me. He sold me this spot. Said he'd found giants and all kinds of crazy valuables. He didn't mention that he'd taken everything but the bones and the dirt already. His name's Faryn. Squirrelly little bastard, if you ask me. Which you didn't. But I said it anyway.

Duran: Where is he now?

Scavenger: He was going to Orzammar, he said. I imagine he's gotten there by now. If you find him, tell him I sent you! It'll scare the piss out of him. Heh.

If you missed the subtext he's telling you to make Faryn think he put a hit on him and you're assassins.

On the way to Orzammar incompetence inc appears.

You don't have to fight these guys if you don't want to. They suck at ambushing people.

Faryn: So, ah... you're back, I see. What can I do for you?

Duran: We're looking for a qunari sword.

Faryn: Kyun-what? I'm sorry, I... ah... I don't know what that--

Sten: Where is my sword?

Faryn: I... ah... don't know what you mean, ser.

Duran: I'd give it to him if I were you, Faryn.

Faryn: I... I don't have it! I swear by Andraste's knickers! I sold it on the way here!

Duran: Sten, tear his arms off.

Faryn: No, I swear, I don't have it! I sold it to a dwarf in Redcliffe. Name of Dwyn.

Duran: What would a dwarf want with a qunari blade?

Faryn: I don't rightly know. He said he was a collector. It's none of my business what a person wants with my merchandise once it's changed hands.

Sten: We'll see.

Hey there The Princess Bride.

Oghren: Aye, sure. Why not?
Wynne: Pardon?
Oghren: Oh, I'd give you a roll. Why not?
Wynne: A "roll?"
Oghren: Aye. Any time. Preferably in the dark.
Wynne: I suppose I should be flattered.
Oghren: I'm not sure I have the equipment for that, but sure, whatever gets you working.

Exhibit A of why a lot of people just don't want to deal with Oghren.

But back to the trenches.

The torches may not be strictly necessary for the darkspawn but they set the scene well.

And there's the Archdemon Urthimiel, try to ignore the overbite if you want to take him seriously. Anyways, with this intended to be near-endgame scene the army marches forth for real and the heroes only avoid getting wiped out because there's too many darkspawn around for it to pick out Grey Wardens.

Archdemon said:
"In Darkness eternal they searched,
For those who had goaded them on,
Until at last they found their prize,
Their god, their betrayer:
The sleeping dragon Dumat. Their taint
Twisted even the false-god, and the whisperer
Awoke at last, in pain and horror, and led
Them to wreak havoc upon all the nations of the world:
The first Blight."

--Threnodies 8:7

The false dragon-gods of the Tevinter Imperium lie buried deep within the earth, where they have been imprisoned since the Maker cast them down.
No one knows what it is that drives the darkspawn in their relentless search for the sleeping Old Gods. Perhaps it is instinct, as moths will fly into torch flames. Perhaps there is some remnant of desire for vengeance upon the ones who goaded the magisters to assault heaven. Whatever the reason, when darkspawn find one of these ancient dragons, it is immediately afflicted by the taint. It awakens twisted and corrupted, and leads the darkspawn in a full-scale invasion of the land: a Blight.

Urthemiel was once the Tevinter god of beauty. In ancient times, he was worshiped by musicians, artists, and poets. The Feast of Urthemiel was the grandest celebration of the year, an event that lasted a full twelve days. Plays and entire symphonies were written in his honor. Now, he is a maddened husk of his former self, filled with nothing but a desire to destroy all life.

Urthimiel has fallen a long way.

But then, the party wasn't the only group to see the Archdemon. The Legion of the Dead is there and kicking the shit out of a force of darkspawn crossing the bridge. There's enough of them that they'd be a major problem for the party but they just don't stand a chance.

I love this design, the thousand hard stare and the armour go perfectly with Kardol's character as someone stuck fighting the darkspawn and roaming the Deep Roads until the day he dies.

Kardol: Stone-blind beasts, you're no nightmare to us.

Kardol: Let them believe they hold us here. When the throne is settled, we'll beat them to their vile birthing grounds.

Kardol: Atrast vala, Grey Warden. I've never seen one of your kind in the Deep Roads.

Duran: That's the warmest greeting I've had since returning.

Kardol: Your past means nothing to the Legion of the Dead. Our oath ignores caste, family, history. It lets us act without distraction. Despite what we might have thought of you in life. What do you want here, warden?

Duran: I am Duran, and I'm looking for allies.

Kardol: The darkspawn squat in our tunnels between Blights. Why would you pull us away from our defense? Give me a good dwarven reason.

Duran: I need to find Paragon Branka.

Kardol: Who put this dull idea in your head? We've got other things to worry about in Orzammar... ah, now I see. The deep loads in the Assembly can't make up their minds, so the pretenders need added influence. I get that right?

Duran: That's about it. You have anything useful to add?

Kardol: Warden, you've got your work cut out for you. Paragon Branka is dead, everyone with sense knows it. Past our line, the darkspawn kill everything.

Duran: Why hold back?

Kardol: I'd gladly lead an assault through the Dead Trenches, but without an ass on the throne.. we have no orders. I won't take fool's gold from a pretender. You want to go digging bling, you go right ahead.

Duran: Ever heard of the Anvil of the Void?

Kardol: Like dusters have heard of respect. Never seen it, and if it exists it wasn't meant for me. But if you're looking for Paragons, you may as well look for the anvil. And endless Lyrium.

Duran: Tell me more about the Legion of the Dead.

Kardol: Wondering what your life would be like if you had stayed in Orzammar? Few others of our own kind would have you. We accept anyone, and are revered in advance as heroes who have and will die in glorious battle. Even murderers.

Duran: I'm no murderer! I was framed!

Kardol: The Legion knows those words well. It's the song of the recruit hoping for a way back to caste or honour. They get their head out of the smoke and accept their fate, or the Stone takes them.

Duran: Goodbye.

Kardol: Good luck, Grey Warden.

The Legion of the Dead, Orzammar's first line of defense. If you have nothing left to lose you can fight with all you have.

I like this little setup, it shows that you're on darkspawn turf now and they'll actually put up an organised defence to drive your ass out. When they're cleared out Kardol moves forward.

Kardol: Well, Grey Warden, I'll give you credit for backbone. You've dug a line through the spawn. Still no sense in your head, but you've got skill.

Duran: You should be more concerned about the coming Blight.

Kardol: Why? The other kingdoms only care when the darkspawn march in the light. But they are always here, always pushing. You lived here. You know. Blights take so long because we keep the darkspawn in check. A surge on the surface would reduce the pressure on us. When the time comes, I'll care for a good dwarven reason. Sod the rest.

Duran: Goodbye.

Kardol: Good luck, Grey Warden.

I kind of wish I could reply with something about how losing Ferelden/the Dales means that Orzammar's food supply gets cut off, possibly for more than a decade, that seems like a practical reason to care about the Blight.

As it turns out, the darkspawn erect altars to the old gods, this one is probably Urthimiel.

And this is one of their forges, in use full-time even when it's not a Blight and one of the reasons why I say the in-universe opinion that Darkspawn are mindless is bullshit.

Forge Master's Hammer: In the heart of the Deep Roads, darkspawn forges blaze non-stop, churning out weapons of war. What this maul lacks in artistry it makes up for in deadly efficiency. The Forge Master was truly worthy of his rank.

Spear-Thrower: This gruesome bow was clearly built for warfare, not sport, for the force with which it hurls an arrow would damage the meat if used to bring down a stag or boar. But no one has ever claimed that darkspawn are fond of hunting.

I mean look at this, this all but says they have a whole logistics system set up to get metal to darkspawn forges, make the weapons and armour and then distribute them all throughout Thedas.

Strangely enough, the darkspawn getting comfortable in a place leads to similar demonic tumors to the demons in Broken Circle.

Along the way, there are a few codex entries to find.

Stalata Negat said:
9:13 Dragon--The Blight is building, though it is years from being named by the surface. But the Memories know the signs. The Legion has lost Bownammar, though in truth, it was lost to the living long ago. The spawn are moving freely and have numbers even the Memories haven't seen. They will surge, release. We will fortify and follow. That is the way, and will always be so. Until we fall, and the surface wonders what has changed.

--From chapter 49 of Stalata Negat: The Stone Unheld: A Commentary on the Roll of Years, by Shaper Erden.

7:0 Storm--The wars continue in the depths and the border thaigs are lost. Orzammar fortifies and holds, but the lost ground is not regained and remains dead space, where darkspawn multiply. It was a surge, but the surface was not breached, there was no great archdemon behind them. No Blight was declared, no rallying cry was given. The Wardens slumbered.

After centuries of constant skirmishes, a trend becomes clear. The first line of defense, unacknowledged for centuries, weakens.

--From chapter 40 of Stalata Negat: The Stone Unheld: A Commentary on the Roll of Years, by Shaper Erden.

5:12 Exalted--The surface declares the fourth Blight, a number that means nothing to the Stone. In the depths, the events are inverted, our Blight spanning the interim years. Seven generations of shifting lines and darkness. Our Ancestors are the reason the surface kingdoms don't know a darkspawn by sight, why even their eldest have never heard an accounting first-hand. They believe the Blights are defeated by a gathering of allies with singular focus. Eventually, they will be lost by attrition in the depths.

The spawn surges and releases. We fortify and follow, although doubts are raised.

--From chapter 27 of Stalata Negat: The Stone Unheld: A Commentary on the Roll of Years, by Shaper Erden.

3:10 Towers--They name it a Blight, the third by their reckoning. It was just "the fight" to our ancestors, continued even though it shifts setting. The hordes that press their border surge and release, spilling across the surface. They fortify and follow. It was not their way to let the enemy rest.

3:25 Towers--The surface kingdoms declare victory. The horde is crushed, the push halted, and celebrations begin as humans thank the skies and their Maker. Beneath their gaze and their feet, the darkspawn retreat to the steps of our thaigs. New front lines are drawn across old. They settle in to breed, the Memories say, as happened twice before, and likely in the darkness before that.

--From chapters 14 and 17 of Stalata Negat: The Stone Unheld: A Commentary on the Roll of Years, by Shaper Erden.

No one comes to help the dwarves, even the Grey Wardens prefer to focus on chasing groups on the surface.

Load Limit Reached said:
"Mass will have an effect," he says.
As long as it lifts us out, I figure.
Should have specified "within my lifetime."
"Gives us time to talk", he says.
"How's a dwarf get named Shepard?"
Up yer shaft.
"No really, because blah, blah, blah."
Axe answers, but I still hear him.
Drip... ground.
Drip... ground.
Worse than his talking.
Think I'll drop out for some air.

Excerpt: Dwarven Verse in One Volume
Selection: Load Limit Reached
Anonymous scratching recovered from a cage hoist... eventually.

A bunch of Mass Effect jokes and a broken bridge.

The Dead Caste said:
Friends, we have argued long, but I would propose a different direction. It is not unprecedented that one of our number should end up in the Legion of the Dead: The Memories attest to some bewildering falls from grace. Only his choice to volunteer has propelled this beyond mere scandal. The question we must ask is: "Does this serve us?" The Legion has always seemed a last hope of redemption. If a noble joins their number―by choice no less―this can only do good things for enrollment. And we sacrifice only one foolish member, the last of a troublesome house. His reforms are better shouted at the darkspawn than in these halls. I say, let him go.

This is the writ that was passed, Durius. I hope you can live with your decision, because you're lost to it now.

--From Assembly minutes regarding the Legion of the Dead; addendum unknown.

Dearest Gilly,

I know things have been difficult since the censure of our house. I had hoped to bear the cost of my actions alone, but if I had a full understanding of consequences, I wouldn't have murdered above my caste in the first place. I did not abandon you lightly, but I knew of no other way to insulate you against my shame than by joining the Legion. It is a half-measure that has earned me no right to seek your comfort, but please, I beg you for one moment of foolish optimism. There is talk of a new soldier, a noble! The things I have heard, I will not curse them by voicing them aloud, but it may be a path to respectability for my kin. For you. If there remains any official line open to our name, can you verify he is real, that House Ferald is in good stead?

--A letter from Maius, unsent.

May this report find the proper eyes to affect future tactics. We found an enclave of the spawn, possibly a breeding lair, but we could make no approach. There were far more spawn than anticipated, and I divided the squad to draw the main body of the horde away. I do not expect to survive, but I have made certain that most of my men will see another day. I am torn by this, as my petition will go unheard, and that may curse many more of the Legion than would die here. But I simply cannot abandon the men I have looked in the eye and called brother. Perhaps they will not thank me for this, believing themselves already dead, but where there is life there is hope. I will not be the last to see their worth.

--From a recovered Legion of the Dead field report, by Lord Durius Ferald.

Casualty: Durius ferald, lieutenant. Found dead with his squad. The corpse was left untouched, suggesting the darkspawn feared his spirit even in death. His ferocity defending his men was corroborated by survivors before they succumbed to corruption. It is rare for a soldier's actual death to exceed the honors given at his enlistment, but Ferald was an odd one, an agitator. His eccentric promises were disruptive, and I fear his death may demoralize more of the Legion than actually heard his fantasies first-hand. He was committed to the Stone with his insignia, as honorable a burial as we can manage with the spawn at our heels, but officially he has formed a second front. Better his foolish hopes are diluted by time than killed outright.

--From a biweekly casualty report, by Sergeant Unger.

By virtue of honored ancestry and great personal sacrifice on the part of its last descendant, the joining of House Ferald and the Legion of the Dead is recognized as worthy of investigation by the Memories. If the lineage proves intact and sufficient, relations of the Legion of the Dead may be acknowledged as minor nobility, albeit with restrictions. This minor house will now undergo the generational process of admittance to the Memories. May honor come to its descendants.

-As recorded by the Memories.

Just find the guy's tomb, collect his insignia and the Legion now begins the process required to count as minor nobility.

The Gangue Shade said:
The Stone has a will that surrounds and directs; she guides even when we are willfully blind to her influence. But she is not pure. The Stone bears a corruption as old as balance. For the dwarves to prosper, the gangue--the waste and unstable rock-- must be cut away. But like the Stone, the gangue also has an influence. Each of us must face this, must carve the worst of ourselves away, but the Legion of the Dead bears a unique responsibility. Only the fully adorned of the Legion can face the gangue, can cut into darkness that afflicts the raw Stone. She encircles us, and we must protect her, here where darkness meets light.

--A Legion of the Dead inscription, undated

So many questions. why does the Stone have corruption made manifest? Why does it take the form of a demon (and it's not just resource limitations since it happened in DA:I too)? Why are there even more ghosts hanging around and defending this section of Bownammar?

As the level progresses the fun chant begins.

First of all this chant is still creepy as hell, second, looks like Oghren isn't the only one to start having regular dreams after a dose of the taint.

The Curious Fan · Dec 7, 2018

Hespith, the lone survivor of Branka's house.

Hespith: What is this? Someone new? Impossible. Feeding time brings only kin and clan. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers' faces and open doors.

Duran: Is this darkspawn corruption? It looks... different.

Hespith: Corruption! The men did that! Their wounds festered and their minds left. They are like dogs, marched ahead, the first to die. Not us. Not me. Not Laryn. We are not cut. We are fed. Friends and flesh and blood and bile and... and...

All I could do was wish Laryn went first. I wished it upon her so that I would be spared. But I had to watch. I had to see the change. How do you endure that? How did Branka endure?

Duran: What change? What are they doing?

Hespith: What they are allowed to do. What they think they must. And Branka...

Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her... but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become.

Duran: What did she do, Hespith? What did Branka do?

Hespith: I will not speak of her! Of what she did, of what we have become! I will not turn! I will not become what I have seen! Not Laryn! Not Branka!

*runs off*

And now the Branka crazy train really kicks off with Hespith laying out exactly what happened with the expedition.

Aas you go deeper into the Dead Trenches Hespith continues her story.

Hespith: She became obsessed... That is the word, but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil.

We tried to escape, but they found us. They took us all, tainted us...

The men, they kill... they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them...

They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood.

And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned gray and she smelled like them. They remade her in their image. Then she made more of them.

Broodmother...

Props to Bioware, this whole lead-up sequence where you move forward and the corruption gets worse as Hespith tells you what happened is well done and genuinely disturbing for a lot of people.

You didn't think I'd actually post a picture, right?

It's a fairly standard bossfight with Laryn summoning tentacles and minions/kids for the fight until Laryn finally dies.

Hespith: That's where they come from. That's why they hate us... that's why they need us. That's why they take us... that's why they feed us. But the true abomination... is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka... my love.... The Stone has punished me, dream-friend. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal.

And on that note she walks off a cliff and kills herself because fuck becoming a Broodmother.

It is well-known that darkspawn carry off those captured in their raids to underground lairs. Most assume that the prisoners are eaten, or somehow tainted and turned into darkspawn themselves, though this could never account for the sheer numbers of the horde. Forays made by Grey Wardens into the underground have uncovered the answer.

When exposed to the darkspawn taint, men are driven mad and eventually die. Women, however, undergo great pain and gross mutations that cause most of them to perish. Those that survive, however, become the grotesque broodmothers. These giant, twisted behemoths birth many darkspawn at a time; a single broodmother can create thousands of darkspawn over the course of her lifetime. Each type of darkspawn is born from a different broodmother: Humans produce hurlocks, dwarves produce genlocks, elves give birth to shrieks, and from Qunari are born the ogres.

This codex entry really feels like bullshit, it's been 1000 years, this can't be the first time they've found someone in the middle of being turned into a Broodmother. I mean, it being true that they don't know would explain why dwarves and Grey Wardens are fine with sending women into the Deep Roads to die but still.

Effort: This is a bit like wearing a portable fortress. The Grey Warden griffon is stamped on the inside. When equipped in a set with the Effort boots and gloves and the helm called Duty, the character's spells or talents cost less to activate.

Rock-Knocker: The Rock-Knockers are a storied battalion of Orzammar's lost sister city, Kal-Sharok. A less stoic version of the Legion of the Dead, they are also less committed to inevitable death, honorable or not.

Ring of Selection: A cruel application that claims adherence to nature's most unforgiving reality, sparing none but the fittest.

This is the only time you'll ever hear of the Rock-Knockers because Bioware hasn't let us anywhere near Kal-Sharok.

Anyone have a decent map showing how this lines up with the standard Ferelden map? It would be appreciated.

Once you get close to the Anvil, a trap is sprung and your retreat is cut off as Branka appears.

She's probably not the most evil character in Origins, but she's close.

Oghren: What was that?

Branka: Let me be blunt with you. After all this time, my tolerance for social graces is fairly limited. That doesn't bother you, I hope.

Oghren: Shave my back and call me an elf! Branka! By the Stone, I barely recognised you!

Branka: Oghren. It figures you'd eventually find your way here. Hopefully, you can find your way back more easily.

*turns to Duran*

And how shall I address you? Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn't mind Oghren's ale-breath?

Oghren: Be respectful, woman! You're talking to a Grey Warden!

Branka: Ah, so an important errand boy, then. I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead? That seems most likely. He was on the old and wheezy side.

Duran: Show respect! You speak of my father!

Branka: And not saying anything untrue. But if he's dead, I'm sorry. He was as competent a king as we could expect.

You are... seeking my support? You wish to succeed Endrin and become king yourself? I don't care if the Assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne. Because our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world, is lost to the very darkspawn it should be fighting. The Anvil of the Void. The means by which the ancients forged an army of golems and held off the first archdemon ever to rise. It's here. So close I can taste it.

Duran: But of course there is a catch.

Branka: The Anvil lies on the other side of a gauntlet of traps designed by Caridin himself. My people and I have given body and soul to unlocking its secrets. This is what's important. This has lasting meaning. If I succeed, the dwarven people benefit. Kings, politics... all that is transitory. I've given up everything and would sacrifice anything to get the Anvil of the Void.

Duran: Does that include Hespith and the others of your house?

Branka: Enough questions! If you wish me to get involved with this imbecile election. I must first have the Anvil. There is only one way out, Warden. Forward. Through Caridin's maze and out to where the Anvil waits.

Branka: What has this place done to you!? I remember marrying a girl you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance.

Branka: I am your Paragon.

Once again the story sounds like Caridin did his thing for longer than 6 years in the middle of a blight, I guess it changed in development.

As you fight through Laryn's children and other darkspawn Branka rants about testing Caridin's traps.

Branka: I needed people to test Caridin's traps. There is no way to break through except by trial and error. I sent them in...

They were all mine, pledged to my house, and they didn't want to help. They tried to leave me, even my Hespith...

But even she couldn't understand that when you reach for greatness, there are sacrifices. As many sacrifices as are needed.

She shouldn't have gone. She was pledged to me. She swore she'd do whatever it took to find the Anvil.

There was no other choice. Most of them were dying of the taint already, but some... some of the women were... transforming.

I knew what they would become. There would be an endless supply. Fresh darkspawn to test the traps. They could still serve me, let me find the Anvil. It was the only way...

You have no idea how they carried on, holding my hand and begging to die. They had pledged me their loyalty! They had no right to fight me!

They say your order is renowned for its wits as well as its brawn. Perhaps you'll do better than my poor clansmen.

There's something about this place... It makes people despair.

First of all, what the fuck Branka.

Second, she was deliberately letting them become broodmothers while some begged for death, that's the big betrayal.

Third, Branka knew about what'd happen to them if they got tainted, broodmothers aren't a secret at all.

Fourth, why the hell are women sent out to die in the Deep Roads at all if just being tainted is enough to start turning them into a broodmother?

Here's an example of environmental storytelling in action, just from the design of this you can tell that the lyrium is growing and isn't just some ore two whole games before Inquisition spells it out.

And then there's this trap. Is it summoning spirits to pretend to be dwarven ghosts or is it calling ghosts out of the Stone? Take your pick.

Once past it, there is one final obstacle before the Anvil can be claimed.

I'm not sure why this shot was included.

Caridin's looking alright for a thousand year old man.

Caridin: My name is Caridin. Once, longer ago than I care to think, I was a Paragon for the dwarves of Orzammar. If you seek the Anvil, then you must care about my story, or be doomed to relive it.

Duran: Caridin? As in the Caridin? Of Caridin's Cross?

Caridin: Though I made many things in my time, I rose to fame and earned my status based on a single item, the Anvil of the Void. It allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible. But I told no one the cost. No mere smith, however skilled, has the power to create life. To make my golems live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere.

Duran: Ten feet tall and invulnerable? I can think of worse fates.

Caridin: It was an option I would offer warriors who would volunteer to defend their homeland. And some took it. But King Valtor became greedy. He began to force men... casteless and criminals... his political enemies... all of them were to be given to the anvil. It took feeling the hammer's blow myself to realise the height of my crimes.

Duran: So you sealed it away? Orzammar could use it!

Caridin: No! I entombed myself here to find a way to destroy the Anvil! It must not be used again!

Branka: No! The Anvil is mine! No one will take it from me!

Caridin: You! Please... help me destroy the Anvil! Do not it enslave more souls than it already has!

The second big choice of Orzammar, what to do with the Anvil.

On one hand, siding with Caridin is clearly the moral option where you put an end to the possibility of political dissidents and casteless (because let's be real, they're going to be the first ones used, not volunteers) being made into undying slaves.

On the other hand, everything shown up until this point indicates that Orzammar needs golems if it's going to survive for more than another generation or so, it doesn't have any more thaigs to lose to the darkspawn besides Orzammar. It's the evil but sensible option (if you ignore the fact that there's no way Bioware will hinge Orzammar's survival on a choice from DA:O) and the fact that Caridin didn't take this option resulted in the dwarves' slow extinction (that they admittedly could have pulled out of at any time if they weren't so obsessed with tradition).

Duran: I need it to bargain with Branka. I won't make golems. (lie)

Caridin: As long as the Anvil exists, it may be used to create slaves. And it will be used. Why seek a more difficult path when another, easier path is available? Help me destroy it!

Duran: Branka can use it to help me against the Blight.

Wynne: No one should be given dominion over another's soul. If anyone should know that best, it is a golem.

Sten: The dwarf woman has madness for her excuse. What's yours? Let us be done with this.

Duran: Doesn't the Qun force others into service?

Sten: The Qun is a path one follows, not a chain that binds. (tell that to everyone the Qun kills for not converting or for trying to break away)

Duran: The Anvil is needed. That is my order!

Caridin: I cannot allow you to do this, stranger. To me, golems! Defend the Anvil, whatever the cost!

Unfortunately for Caridin, past me felt that picking the Anvil went best with the pragmatic and pro-family parts of the character.

In addition to the lightning powers he's worked out how to make it spew lava (and look, more obviously growing lyrium). Still not as strange as Branka pulling out duplicates that are IIRC capable of hurting you.

If you bring Shale along for this fight you get a lot of extra dialogue revealing that she was known as Shayle of house Cadash when she was a dwarf but I didn't do this because ~~I'm a coward~~ I wanted to cover her personal mission.

Caridin's Shield: This was made by Paragon Caridin himself. The design is deceptively ordinary, but the shield is flawlessly smooth and perfectly round. The metal is warm, as if just taken from the forge.

Caridin's Cage: A chambered pendant that guides any incoming charge around the central stone. An intricate work of engineering.

Did Caridin make himself a Faraday cage? And why does wearing it make you dumber/less cunning?

Before talking to Branka I collect a tracing of the Golem Registry, a list of every volunteer to become a golem.

With the amount of lyrium in and around this thing I'm pretty sure we're close to a Titan's heart (maybe even the one that gave Caridin the vision on how to make golems).

(The anvil glows like liquid metal from the lyrium veined through it, but dark stains attest to its bloody past. It is built straight out of the stone of the floor. Trying to move it would require years to chip away at its base.)

Also if you fuck up it goes straight into the lava since it's on a precipice mostly made out of lyrium (which can explode with the wrong stimuli).

Branka: Here it is, the Anvil of the Void. So sweet, such power!

Oghren: Aye, I should have known. I thought that once you had the Anvil you'd be satisfied...

Branka: Perhaps I could use it now... a reward for defeating Caridin. You wanted a crown, no? Or have you set your sights higher than the petty kings of Orzammar?

Duran: A Paragon's crown. The Assembly must accept that.

Branka: Then stand aside, and I shall forge it for you. Take it to whomever you please.

Interestingly, with the right dialogue choices (and high persuade) you can convince Branka that she's wrong and she'll destroy the Anvil before killing herself. It's the only thing keeping me from calling her the most evil character in Origins and I kind of wish I had a save file to play it and screenshots with since I don't really remember any of the specifics. Or you can be a dick and try to get Oghren made into a golem.

Wait, I've seen that shade of purple before not too long ago.

Looks like "Anvil of the Void" might not be a metaphorical name.

Branka: There it is. An ugly lump of hot metal to go over a couple of empty heads. Now leave. It will take me some time to fully realise the mysteries here.

Duran: Good luck with your studies.

Branka: Once Orzammar settles on its petty king, have him send for me. When next you lead your armies against the archdemon, they will be shielded by a tide of steel men.

Oghren: I hope this makes you happy, Branka. I don't think you understand what it cost to get you here.

Branka: Oh, stuff a rag in it, Oghren. Move on! Find a few whores. Sodding Stone, I never thought you'd be the pining type. Now begone.

I've seen worse breakups.

Oghren: I guess you both got what you wanted. Hope it was worth the cost.

Duran: To the Assembly. They need to know as soon as possible.

Oghren: Eh. Those deshyrs have been trying to destroy the city for years. Haven't managed yet.

*offscreen walk back to Orzammar*

Bandelor: Lords of the Assembly, I call for order! This argument gets us nowhere!

Bhelen: Then why these delaying tactics? I call for a vote right now. My father has one living child to assume the Aeducan throne. Who would deny him that?

Harrowmont: Your father made me swear on his deathbed you would not succeed him.

Guard: I apologise for the interruption, Lord Steward, but the Grey Warden has returned.

Bhelen: Well, Warden! What news do you bring?

Oghren: Branka still lives, though she's as mad as a nug at a tanner's shop. She finally found the Anvil of the Void and chose to stay in the Deep to work it.

She tasked the Grey Warden to give her crown to Orzammar's next king, chosen by the ancestors as the first in a millennium to lead a golem army against a Blight.

Harrowmont: I would like to believe Oghren's word, but it's well known the Grey Warden is Bhelen's hireling!

Bandelor: Then tell us, Grey Warden, which kind did Paragon Branka endorse?

Duran: Branka chose Bhelen.

Bhelen: At last. This farce is ended and I can take my rightful place on my father's throne.

Bandelor: Let the Memories find you worthy, first amidst the lords of the houses, the king of Orzammar.

It's a nice crown, I'll say that much. Still, I'm not sure why Bhelen was the one pushing for a vote when he was supposed to be the one delaying things to give you time to find Branka. And once again I regret not having saves because I really want to see how Bhelen reacts to getting screwed by his sibling at the last second.

Bhelen: Do you acknowledge me as king?

Harrowmont: I... cannot defy a Paragon. The throne is yours... King Bhelen.

Bhelen: Then as my first act as king, I call for this man's execution! Guards. Seize him!

Duran: Harrowmont was an honorable rival. Let him retire in peace.

Bhelen: You know better than anyone the war facing us, Warden. Orzammar cannot afford to be divided. Anyone undermining my reign is serving only the darkspawn. I will return to the palace to gather my generals and prepare our forces for the surface. I will see you there, Warden. You have my gratitude for all you have done for me.

At the very least, Harrowmont went out with dignity which is more than Bhelen can say if he loses.

Bhelen: You have truly surprised me, Brother. You have earned the right to rejoin House Aeducan! Without your aid, I would not have taken this throne so smoothly or so soon.

Duran: The throne belongs with House Aeducan.

Bhelen: As all in Orzammar now see. I have already sent a mission to Branka. I'm certain by the time you call for us, I can send you a vanguard of golems for your army. Since you did more than I expected, I offer a personal reward as well. You may recognise this. Trian used to crack skulls when he was showing off for Father. I'm sure he'd want you to have it. Now, I have much to do. If there is nothing else...

Duran: And my son? He will be cared for now?

Bhelen: Sure, send the whore and her brat to me. I'll make sure they take the name and a nice room in the smallest palace. Don't worry, Brother. The boy will grow up hearing what a hero his father was. And if you die in the Blight, I'll be sure the whore wears sackcloth for at least a day. Now, I must address my other petitioners. Come back and visit sometime.

And with that, Bhelen's evil but progressive ass is on the throne and the kid is safe.

Kardol: The throne restored and legends put to rest. Incredible. If I'd heard it second hand I'd have called it a sodding lie. Warden, we've got a king because of you. The rest, impressive, but the Legion is grateful most for restored leadership. It frees us to fight the darkspawn properly.

Duran: Orzammar is lucky to have you.

Kardol: You'll have us too, warden! I think it's time the surfacers saw the good the Stone can unleash. We'll be at your side. Back to Orzammar when we win, though. I'll not stay topside to lose my stone sense.

Huh, he comes along automatically if you're a dwarf. I was expecting that there'd be a persuasion check option if I wanted to try and get Kardol to show up for the final boss.

All that's left now is handing in some side quests.

Czibor: Most impressive, Warden. King Bhelen's ascent to his father's throne has been recorded in the Memories. Is there something more I can help you with?

Duran: I have some tracings you might be interested in.

Czibor: What's this? A list of names... Most of these clans no longer even exist! Is this authentic?

Oghren: You bet your hairy arse it is! Taken from a tablet in Caridin's fortress, no less!

Czibor: Then... is it true? The rumors of Caridin's so-called volunteers? Extraordinary! I would love to make a copy of this. The Shaperate has never had much information on Caridin and his golems, much less proof of this magnitude! Wardem. O hp[e this artifact from our archives will suffice as a reward... I must inform the Shaperate at once!

I also get the final The Shaper's Life codex entry.

The blessing of the Shaperate is given only to those who walk with the Stone. It is a path that cuts deep and the road is far from secure, but those who desire to work in memory must first honor it. Document the Stone, protect her, and present a new history to the Memories. Only then will the blessing of the Shaperate be upon you.

--From The Shaper's Life.

Orzammar has carved a legacy from the Stone, but history is more than the comings and goings that fill the streets. These caverns are old cuts and well traveled; the true will of the Stone is revealed far from the halls of politics and commerce. The Shaper must step away from the familiar, and seek out revelations from the frontier or buried secrets from paths abandoned. The shaper must first walk away if he is to return.

--"First Steps," from The Shaper's Life.

Far from abandoned, the Deep Roads are patrolled by those who fight for Orzammar and the Stone. These defenders have seen great and tragic events unfold, but they are committed to the moment, not the memory. It is the shaper's burden to walk this path with a mind to observation. He will fight if pressed--every dwarf owes that to the Stone--but his purpose is to record, not create. Although dark and deep, the old paths are alive with deeds; only the dedication of the shaper can ensure they are not lost to the Memories.

--"The Old Path," from The Shaper's Life.

Before the darkspawn, the Stone held an empire--dozens of thaigs, each cavern a shade of dwarven pride, communities separate but united. They fell by degrees. Ruins crumbled into tombstones, a forgotten glory. But the Stone is a living history, and absence can reveal more than constant scrutiny does. As the Stone shifts, she chooses what remains buried and what must see the light. The shapers must return, must walk the lost way, so the children of the Stone can see what has been surrendered and what can be gained.

This is the sacrifice of the shaper.

--"The Lost Way," from The Shaper's Life

You have walked the path of the Shaperate and documented the Stone. The blessing of the Shaperate is yours to wield in the carving of a new path, one for tomorrow's shaper to follow.

--From The Shaper's Life

I hadn't really thought of it before now but digging up history in the Deep Roads must be one hell of a difficult job.

Orta: I-I started to worry. I didn't know if you were ever coming back. Did you find any records? Any sign of the old Ortan Thaig?

Duran: I have the records right here.

Orta: You... you found them?! Let me see...

That's my great grandmother's name! And her husband! Oh, great ancestors'! It's them! It's me! I am an Ortan! Oh, thank you! I have to take these to the Assembly right away! Find me there. Once these are acknowledged, I'll give you my reward!

Oh look, more proof that dwarves live longer since her great grandmother was alive in Ortan Thaig and that fell 410 years before Origins.

Orta: My name's Orta. After the old Ortan House. They gave our seat back, and the records show which houses still owe House Ortan money. One day, I will be able to properly thank you for all you've done for me.

Duran: Your happiness is enough.

Orta: And I don't know what treasure is left, but whatever I get, you can have as much as you want. I'll have to find someone willing to look, maybe a whole expedition. If the thaig is still there, it must have something! House Ortan will not forget this kindness. Oooh. Didn't that sound official?

What's left there is spiders, ghosts, possibly spider ghosts and maybe a lot of magic fuckery to do with that sword and the abomination.

Mardy: I heard! It's all over the city. Bhelen is king! My son will be an Aeducan! I will take him to the palace. I can't wait for a proper bath and a nurse to watch him for me! My lord, perhaps you would like to... give the boy a name. I wanted his father to have the honour.

Duran: Call him Gorim, for the one who stood by me.

Mardy: Gorim... That has a nice sound to it.

With that little Gorim is safe.

Filda: You've returned! With all the excitement over the new king, I never expected you to remember by poor son. Did you learn anything about my Ruck?

Duran: Yes, but you... might not want to hear it.

Filda: What is it? Is he dead? Please don't torment me.

Duran: I'm afraid Ruck went crazy after too long in the Deep Roads.

Filda: Crazy? Oh, ancestors save him. I've heard of this: lost soldiers turning on each other, eating darkspawn flesh. Is that what happened to my boy? Why didn't you bring him home?

Duran: Ruck didn't want you to see him like that.

Filda: Such a good boy. Still thinking of me after all he's been through. I have to go to him. He needs me. Oh, he must be so frightened out there. So lonely. I thank you for what you've done, even if you couldn't be bothered with more. Take this. It's my husband's masterwork, the first shield he ever smithed. I was saving it for Ruck, but I want you to have it. As my thanks.

I can only hope her search goes well.

Burkel: Andraste teaches that patience is the child of wisdom, but I'm eager to hear if you've seen the shaper.

Duran: He agreed to let you hold prayer meetings.

Burkel: Oh, praise the Maker! You truly walk in the light, friend. I already found a convert among the merchants who offered his shop as a temporary chantry. It's just by the Tapsters. Please, come to our first service!

I see no way that this can end horribly.

Next time, a few more loose ends, Flemeth and either Redcliffe or the Brecilian.

Night_stalker · Dec 7, 2018

The Curious Fan said:
Meanwhile the thief in the Provings drops a book on the relationship between ancestor lineage and the granting of mining permits in the Dead Trenches, a bit of an odd interest, was one of the noble families planning to make a push for the Dead Trenches while the Darkspawn are busy sacking Ferelden?

Maybe one of the Dustlings was just well read?

The Curious Fan said:
Why wouldn't you do that?

Because it sounds tacky as shit?

The Curious Fan said:
you count shoving the Chant down dwarven kids' throats

Uh, thankfully there's no priests, otherwise I could make a really bad joke here.

The Curious Fan said:
All in all it was surprisingly easy to rope him into letting the Chantry get it's foot in the door.

Eh, probbaly just wants to watch the bloodshed.

The Curious Fan said:
I want to hear the story of how a drunk Oghren roped someone into carrying that axe he's not allowed to carry for him until he got to city limits.

"Wanna make 20 coins?"

The Curious Fan said:
I wonder how they react to your weapon getting broken in a battle?

"Eh, go get it fixed." I mean, it's external circumstances.

The Curious Fan said:
No soft touch for someone who upsets the dog.

Just for that, I'd have left him in the Deep Roads.

The Curious Fan said:
I can only assume that the first dialogue is there to just make sure players know that the crystals go on Shale.

As opposed to who, Ser RuffsaLot?

The Curious Fan said:
Next stop, Ortan Thaig, the home of weird dwarf magic.

You mean Runes, laddy, right? True Dwali don't use any of that filthy elgi *spits* magic.

The Curious Fan said:
I'd forgotten here's a proper closeup of Oghren's beard

Not nearly impressive enough for a true Dwali beard.

The Curious Fan said:
The spiders from The Stolen Throne are still here and still aggressive enough to eat an ogre.

Or desperate for food.

The Curious Fan said:
There's no sightings of anything related to Maric's ridiculous sword

Has he checked his trousers yet?

The Curious Fan said:
The poor guy had to eat darkspawn to survive.

"And yet, it still tastes better then what I used to eat in the Legion!"

The Curious Fan said:
Ah, this old story, the pet tries to be nice with the gift of an animal.

Or it's storing it's dinner for the night it's supposed to cook. He's got a wicked Hasenpfeffer recipe lined up.

The Curious Fan said:
I love this design, the thousand hard stare and the armour go perfectly with Kardol's character as someone stuck fighting the darkspawn and roaming the Deep Roads until the day he dies.

Nah, needs a orange mohawk and impressive beard of the same color.

The Curious Fan said:
Strangely enough, the darkspawn getting comfortable in a place leads to similar demonic tumors to the demons in Broken Circle.

Eh, you see same things in any Hilton, what makes these special?

The Curious Fan said:
And on that note she walks off a cliff and kills herself because fuck becoming a Broodmother.

Die well, and go to the Stone in honor.

The Curious Fan said:
She's probably not the most evil character in Origins, but she's close.

What about Howe?

The Curious Fan said:
Second, she was deliberately letting them become broodmothers while some begged for death, that's the big betrayal.

Yeah, that's the really nasty thing she does. Inexcusable, to say the least?

The Curious Fan said:
Fourth, why the hell are women sent out to die in the Deep Roads at all if just being tainted is enough to start turning them into a broodmother?

A excellent question, which nobody can answer.

The Curious Fan said:
Before talking to Branka I collect a tracing of the Golem Registry, a list of every volunteer to become a golem.

So how many names we talking? A dozen?

The Curious Fan said:
digging up history in the Deep Roads must be one hell of a difficult job.

Understatement of the year, mate.

The Curious Fan said:
I can only hope her search goes well.

Yeah, that might not go well.

The Curious Fan said:
I see no way that this can end horribly.

Nah, this totally isn't gonna end in a riot or two, it'll be nice and calm.

Erandil · Dec 7, 2018

I admit that I always interpreted Branka descend into darkness as another example of the somebody being affected by the taint which is why I don't necessarily view her as negatively as some others do. (It is also why in my personal headcanon the ideal solution to this would be to make Branka a Grey Warden)

Xkeizer · Dec 7, 2018

The Curious Fan said:
they'll definitely do the second one

Though Bhelen does it anyway if you pick him, so kind of a moot point......

The Curious Fan said:
All in all it was surprisingly easy to rope him into letting the Chantry get it's foot in the door.

You'd think he'd be a bit more against it

The Curious Fan said:
That's just sloppy, having him be found and dragged across a fair chunk of the country by some farmers around Lothering. And this is also our first look at spirituality in the Qunari, I wonder how they react to your weapon getting broken in a battle?

Night_stalker said:
"Eh, go get it fixed." I mean, it's external circumstances.

A very good question, while hopefully something along the lines of getting it fixed, trusting the qunari to be understanding most of the time is...... not always the best thing to do. We can only hope they do realize broken weapons are a thing and aren't expecting the bearer to fall upon the broken shards when that happens.

The Curious Fan said:
As it turns out, 3 warriors and a rogue at low levels is a bad party for the Deep Roads.

The Deep Road: it WILL kick your ass several times before your done slogging through it.

The Curious Fan said:
(featuring disapproving Sten),

So just Sten.

The Curious Fan said:
For a guy stuck in a place that's utterly alien to him with a bunch of dead friends and a guilty conscience Sten copes really well.

Maybe it's the lack of other Qunari being around, maybe he feels the party aren't the worst thing in the world for him to be around.

The Curious Fan said:
Urthimiel has fallen a long way.

They all have.
And there's still the Dragons of Mystery and Night buried somewhere down there........

Night_stalker said:
What about Howe?

Potentially equal at the very least or slightly below, for all the things Howe does, it's kind of hard to think it better than some of what Branka's done.

The Curious Fan · Dec 7, 2018

Night_stalker said:
Maybe one of the Dustlings was just well read?

They'd have dropped it off in Dust Town instead then.

Night_stalker said:
You mean Runes, laddy, right? True Dwali don't use any of that filthy elgi *spits* magic.

No I mean proper magic, the prince called a demon to himself, Ortan Thaig was weird.

Night_stalker said:
What about Howe?

That's who I was thinking of.

Night_stalker said:
So how many names we talking? A dozen?

A couple hundred or so judging by the size of the tablet.

The Curious Fan · Dec 23, 2018

Fun fact, for some reason they cut the dialogue where Oghren permanently joins the party. He's just there from now on.

Sten: Dwarf.
Oghren: What?
Sten: Stop tripping me.
Oghren: Stop tripping yourself!
Sten: If you were significant enough to notice, I wouldn't step on you.
Oghren: Oh, well... your mother!
Sten: ... That was disappointing. I expected better from you.
Oghren: Sorry, I was in a rush.

Will fantasy writers ever tire of dwarf jokes?

Oghren: (Sigh) Give me a moment.

Duran: Sure, take your time.

Oghren: By the Stone, I feel like I'm about to fall off the world with all that sky up there.

Duran: Yes, I remember that feeling. It passes.

Oghren: Too bad. It's kind of like being drunk. But so much cheaper! Well, let's get moving. We're losing... whatchacallit? Daylight.

Of course, living underground all your life, even in a place as open as Orzammar, doesn't really prepare you for having nothing above your head except air.

Back in Denerim with Loghain, Anora and Howe.

Howe: Sire? I have more news. Err... yes. Well, it seems that the fighting has gone exactly as you--

Anora: Enough. I would like to know what you intend to accomplish, Father. Should we not be fighting the darkspawn instead of each other?

Loghain: The nobility shall be brought into line, and then the darkspawn defeated. This is no true Blight, Anora. Only Cailan's vanity demanded it be so.

Howe: Beg pardon, Sire, but Blight or no, we may not have the manpower to face the darkspawn soon.

Anora: Cailan approached the Orlesians for support, did he not?

Loghain: Never! Maric and I drove those bastards out! We will not roll out the welcome for them now!

Anora: We need help, Father! We cannot deal with this crisis alone!

Loghain: Ferelden will stand on it's own! I will lead it through this, Anora! You must have faith in me!

Anora: Did you kill Cailan?

Loghain: Cailan's death was his own doing.

With that he all but admits that he killed Cailan and loses Anora's support as she storms out of the room with clenched fists. As for why Loghain is utterly opposed to letting Orlais in, even without his laundry list of personal reasons there's the fact that they've come in to help with a crisis only to occupy the country not once but twice before (Nevarra after IIRC the 3rd Blight and then chunks of the Free Marches after the Qunari) and he's certain they'll do it again and depending on how you read the dissonance between troop numbers two groups give he might be right. Still, Howe and Anora saying he needs more men seems to sink in and if I had to guess this is when he gets the idea to strike up a deal with Tevinter.

Irving: Welcome back, friend. You'll be glad to learn that the Circle is well on the way to recovery.

Duran: Dagna, of Orzammar, wishes to study magic.

Irving: Orzammar? Indeed? You have piqued my curiosity. It is common knowledge that dwarves lack the... aptitude for spell craft. She will never be able to weave the simplest magic, no matter how hard she tries.

Duran: She is aware of this, but her interest has not waned.

Irving: Fascinating. I suppose the Circle should be flattered.

Duran: She is willing to give up caste and clan for this.

Irving: I see. If she is willing to sacrifice so much for this, then we should feel honored. Tell Dagna, of Orzammar, that this path will not be easy, but if she chooses it, then she is welcome here at the Circle. She will live and study with the Tranquil and perhaps the apprentices, when it is appropriate.

Duran: Thank you, First Enchanter.

Irving: Ah, if only the Circle was in better shape. I fear she may be disappointed when she arrives.

Duran: I think she'll be very interested in what happened.

Irving: This will be interesting. She could tell us much about our dwarven neighbours. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea. I shall take this as an indication that perhaps things are starting to look up for the Circle. Thank you.

Duran: Forgive me, but I must take my leave.

Irving: I wish you well. Know that you will always be welcome here.

Steve Blum supports the plan but he doesn't know what he's getting into.

Oghren: Ugh. Got something in my...Sod it.
Wynne: What are you... Never mind, I don't want to know.
Oghren: That's right. Keep your nose up. You know, just because we don't all live in some tower in the clouds doesn't mean we're worthless.
Wynne: I didn't...
Oghren: And furthermore, I don't think I appreciate the way you looked at me the other night.
Wynne: The way I... what?
Oghren: Oh, you remember. Those longing eyes, hungry for a bit of a tussle...
Wynne: I never looked at you, dwarf. Definitely not in that way.
Oghren: Oh, you're right. Must have been the dog.

Oghren please, the dog has standards.

Templar 1: Come on, you've rested enough. We need to get these out of the tower before they get... fragrant.

Templar 2: Touching those abominations... it's wrong.

Templar 1: Someone has to do it.

Templar 2: Why do we have to take them across the lake to burn? The lake's right there...

Oh would you look at that, just casually suggesting that they don't get a decent cremation out of sheer laziness. Fuck you Templar 2.

Godwin: Oh, it's you! You saved the Circle. I'd kiss your feet if you didn't look as though you'd kill me if I did that. You'll settle for a handshake, won't you? Maybe a kiss on the forehead?

Duran: Uh, that's quite all right.

Godwin: A-ha ha... I suppose we feel the same way then. Might not seem like much coming from me, but I appreciate what you've done for us.

*conversation ends*

Godwin: Ah, hello again. Would you like me to tell you again how wonderful you are? Or maybe you'd just like to talk a little?

Duran: Your name is Godwin? I met a dwarf who mentioned you.

Godwin: Rogek? He's a personal friend and... s-sometimes we... you know, correspond? Did he, um, have anything for me?

Duran: Yes. He said you'd be waiting for this lyrium.

Godwin: Yes, yes! I will take it off your hands right now. Uh... what about fifty sovereigns? That's a good price, no?

Duran: (Persuade) Make it sixty and we're in business.

Godwin: You drive a hard bargain, friend. If I had children, they'd be starving. But I don't... so here's your gold. Out of curiosity, do you know why this lyrium took so long to get here?

Duran: Orzammar's gates were closed because of political unrest.

Godwin: Dwarves and their politics. Always causing trouble... how is the situation now?

Duran: Why don't you go to Orzammar and find out for yourself?

Godwin: Ah, I see. Well, I just wanted to know if I should expect another late delivery.

Duran: Why do you need all this lyrium?

Godwin: Well, mages need lyrium. For spells... and things. Nothing you'd know about.

Duran: (Persuade) But I'm curious, and I saved you.

Godwin: I suppose you did at that... Well, yes, but you see... the templars use lyrium, too. They cannot manipulate natural energies like mages can, but they need to be able to fight us. The big problem with lyrium is that it has... diminishing returns. And the templars become dependent on it. If it wasn't me and Rogek, someone else would do it.

Duran: How do you keep this operation hidden?

Godwin: Those that know what I do have good reason not to get me in trouble.

Duran: (Persuade) Share some of that wealth, or people will find out.

Godwin: Uh... you're... blackmailing me? Fine, take this. It's all I have on me at the moment. Now just... leave me alone, please.

Duran: Thank you.

Godwin: This just isn't my day.

How to alienate a fan in one easy step. But yeah, he has a point, drug smuggling is pretty much a fact of life when you're running a place where drug addiction is standard (and there's probably a few mages getting it for misc reasons too).

Back to Orzammar to finish a few things off with the place.

Dagna: Hello. How can I-- it's you! And it's been... well, quite a while. Enough time to get to the Circle and back, I hope? Oh, please tell me what they said.

Duran: First Enchanter Irving accepted you for study.

Dagna: Ancestors bless you; I can't believe it! There hasn't even been a dwarven observer in the Circle since Ureldin in the thirteen century! Uh... I-I-I need to pack. No. My parents would get suspicious. I need to go. Is there anything I should bring? Books? Tuition?

Duran: Nothing. The mages need every ally they can get.

Dagna: Then I should go... before my parents come looking for me. If you ever go to the Circle again, maybe I'll see you there.

"Thirteen century", I guess the dwarves have their own calendar. I wonder what event they're counting from? The First Blight is too late and the alliance with Tevinter is too early.

Rogek: Well, if it isn't my new best friend. You make it to the Tower yet?

Duran: Package delivered, as promised.

Rogek: Excellent. I must say, I wasn't sure I'd see you back here. Now, that was ten sovereigns we agreed to, right?

Duran: (Persuade) No. It was twenty.

Rogek: Uh, right. Just testing. If you weren't paying attention, I'd know you didn't need the coin, right?

No honour among smugglers and (probably) thieves.

Zerlinda: Y-you're back. I thought you weren't coming. What did he say?

Duran: Your father wants you both to come home.

Zerlinda: Both of us? I don't believe he said that. I've never heard him refer to my son as anything but trash. He calls him "it". But maybe... maybe Mother convinced him, or you did. Oh, my friend, I cannot thank you enough! If this were a story, my son would grow to manhood and pledge himself as a knight in your service! When he grows up, I will send him to you, I promise!

One of the few happy endings you can get in Orzammar.

Morrigan: I have been studying Mother's grimoire. Do you wish to hear what I have found?

Duran: What did you find?

Morrigan: 'Tis... not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the power she commands. But this is not it.

Duran: Yet you look disturbed.

Morrigan: Disturbed? Yes, perhaps that is the right word. One thing in particular in her writings disturbs me. Here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived for centuries.

Duran: That should be useful, no?

Morrigan: Not unless one also happens to be an ancient abomination, no. Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetimes. There are stories of these many Witches of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen one and always wondered why not. And now I know. They are all Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter. And when the time is right, she takes her daughter's body for her own.

Duran: So why would she risk sending you with me?

Morrigan: I do not know. Perhaps 'tis as she said, the darkspawn threaten her as much as they threaten everyone else. Or perhaps she believes that this journey will make me more powerful. According to the tome, if the... host... is already powerful and trained in magic, it takes far less time for Flemeth to... settle in.

Duran: So if you died she would have another daughter?

Morrigan: Not by any natural means. Perhaps I should take this as a vote of confidence from her on my capabilities? Or perhaps she simply wished me gone from the Korcari Wilds so she could prepare her ritual in peace. A disturbing thought.

Duran: So is Flemeth immortal or not?

Morrigan: Whatever spark of the demon that made her what she is remains within her and keeps her from dying of old age. But her body deteriorates. Eventually she would be so wizened as to be senseless and immobile. So she must seek a new body, a fresh body, and start the cycle anew.

Duran: Can this body be anyone? Or must it be a daughter?

Morrigan: I am... uncertain. According to her writings, certain hosts are better than others. The more a host is prepared, the quicker... the transition will be. I am... sorry. This simply takes me by surprise. I would have thought I would have had some inkling, some notion...

Duran: You really had no idea?

Morrigan: Flemeth is capable of many things. I was a fool not to suspect her capable of using me for her own self-preservation.

Duran: Are you certain about this?

Morrigan: Indeed. That is primarily what this tome details. The various daughters that Flemeth has... acquired. Their preparation and training. I recognise all of it. I... am to be her next host. This is my purpose.

Duran: So what do you intend to do about it?

Morrigan: There is only one possible response to this. Flemeth needs to die. I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain and I need your help to do it.

Duran: Why do you need my help?

Morrigan: Because if she is slain while I am near, I am not certain that she will not simply be able to take possession of me right there. So obviously I cannot be the one to do it.

Duran: Perhaps you should talk to her about it first?

Morrigan: And what would that do? At best I would receive pointless reassurances. At worst, Flemeth would imprison me once she became aware I know what I do. I know my mother well enough to be confident she would show no mercy when it came to her own survival. I must do the same.

Duran: Very well. I'll help you, if I can.

Morrigan: Then what needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds... without me. Confront her and slay her quickly. I doubt she will truly be dead even then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power... if that is even possible. The thing I must have is her true grimoire. With it I can defend against her power in the future. Everything else in her hut is yours.

Duran: Do I have a time limit on this?

Morrigan: Not really. But the sooner the better, no?

Duran: I'll see what I can do.

Morrigan: I am grateful. The sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease.

I have to question how exactly Flemeth's parenting guide got into the templars' hands, how it wasn't burned or stuck in the repository and what language it's in.

Alistair: Something on your mind?

Duran: I have some questions.

Alistair: Of course.

Duran: What can a templar do, exactly?

Alistair: Essentially they're trained to fight. The Chantry would tell you that the templars exist simply to defend, but don't let them fool you. They're an army. The other main purpose of a templar is, of course, to hunt mages. To that end, we train in talents that drain mana and disrupt spells.

Duran: So couldn't others learn these talents?

Alistair: Perhaps, but there usually isn't much of an opportunity. The Chantry keeps a close reign on the templars. We are given lyrium to help develop our magical talents, you see... which means we become addicted. And since the Chantry controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves... well, I'm sure you can put two and two together.

Duran: So you were addicted to this lyrium?

Alistair: Thankfully, no. You only start receiving lyrium once you've taken your vows. You don't need lyrium in order to learn the templar talents. Lyrium just makes templar's talents more effective. Or so I was told. Maybe it doesn't even do that. The Chantry usually doesn't let their templars get away, either, so they can spread their secrets. I'm a bit of an exception. Lucky me.

Duran: Can you teach others to be a templar?

Alistair: Sure I could. I could even teach you, I suppose. Anyone who's been trained as a warrior. I guess if I'm going to give up Chantry secrets, I may as well go all the way. Send whoever you want trained to me in camp, and I'll see what I can do.

Duran: So how did you become a Grey Warden?

Alistair: Same way you did. You drink some blood, you choke on it and pass out. You haven't forgotten already, have you?

Duran: I mean before that.

Alistair: Let's see, I was in the Chantry before. I trained for many years to become a templar, in fact. That's where I learned most of my skills.

Duran: You don't seem like the religious sort.

Alistair: You're telling me. I was banished to the kitchens to scour the pots more times than I can count. And that's a lot, I can count pretty high. The grand cleric didn't want to let me go. Duncan was forced to conscript me, actually, and was she ever furious when he did. I thought she was going to have us both arrested. I was lucky.

Duran: Why did the grand cleric want to keep you?

Alistair: I wondered that myself. It's not as if she valued me highly. I think she just didn't want to give anything to the Grey Wardens, is all. The Chantry didn't lose much. And I think I can do more fighting the Blight rather than sitting in a temple somewhere. I'll always be thankful to Duncan for rescuing me. If it hadn't been for him, you know, I would never... I wouldn't have...

Duran: He was a good man.

Alistair: He was. A good man who didn't deserve his fate, that much I'm sure of.

And that's how the Chantry keeps the Templars leashed. The idea that lyrium doesn't do anything at all for their powers has been disproven over the years but the core bits that they don't need lyrium to have them and that they're deliberately given far too much lyrium to ensure addiction are still there.

Also grand clerics have the ability to arrest people that haven't broken any laws in the middle of Ferelden, that is way too much power for a church.

Shale: I have watched a lot of humans in my time. It should be aware that I have decided that it is... not much like any of them.

Duran: That's super. Thanks, Shale.

Shale: Surely it must come from some superior lineage, yes? Some breed of flesh creature that had decided to elevate its genetic stock above its natural shortcomings?

Duran: I am a member of House Aeducan, in fact.

Shale: Then that must be it. My experience with dwarves is limited, but obviously I need to encounter more of them. Other than Oghren. I would appreciate it if it didn't spread around that I said anything. Humans might start to get the wrong idea. They might start thinking their race is not completely hopeless.

Duran: And we wouldn't want that!

Shale: Indeed. Can it imagine the horror? (Shudders) Now. Let us crush something into a fine paste before it starts to think I have gone all soft. Perish the thought.

Little by little Shale warms up to people. And "genetic stock", what a modern bit of phrasing.

Shale: I have a question for it, if it will indulge me. My understanding is that it encountered the smith named Caridin, he who was responsible for the creation of the golems, that he had become a golem himself. What I do not know is what became of him. Why did he not return with it? I would have many questions for him...

Duran: (Persuade) (Lie) I don't know what happened to him.

Shale: Truly? He just... disappeared? Then what of the Anvil of the Void? Has it been recovered?

Duran: Yes. It is in the hands of the dwarves, now.

Shale: So something of the past has been recovered? Perhaps other golems will be made, again. I can only assume that is a good thing. With Caridin also goes any chance that I might have had of finding answers on my past, I assume. Tell me, did it find out anything from Caridin, anything at all about how I might have been made?

Duran: The Anvil made golems from living souls.

Shale: Meaning... that I was once a living creature? That seems highly unlikely, and more than a little insulting. Is it certain?

Duran: I'm not trying to insult you, Shale.

Shale: Hmm. Was I forced into this? Or simply glad to abandon a frail body? And more importantly, who was I? I simply must know. I cannot help but believe that answers lie elsewhere in the Deep Roads. We must look!

Duran: Anywhere specific?

Shale: Yes. No. I don't know. If it can search the Deep Roads, I may remember... something. If not... then I will have to wait.

This is a bit cowardly but I have a reason for wanting to do it, Cadash Thaig has one interesting detail and I want to see if people notice it in screenshots without me pointing it out.

And Shale's comment about abandoning a frail body makes me wonder why they don't try to recruit the elderly for being golems, there are a lot of old people who'd jump on a deal of "serve for X years and if you're still alive you go free and live on as a golem", you'd just have to set it so the number of years required means that they'll mostly die before then.

Duran: Tell me a little about Antiva.

Zevran: Oh? You wish to know about Antiva, do you? The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there. It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom... or so the saying goes.

Duran: You don't like Ferelden?

Zevran: It is fine enough with its dogs and its mud. The people are spirited even if they can't tell the difference between an assassin and a mere killer. I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from someplace comparable?

Duran: I am from Orzammar, of course.

Zevran: Ahhh, yes, the city of lava ans stone. It, too, is beautiful in its way. Sad that it will never see sunlight or smell the salt of the ocean, however. Hmm. You know what is most odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the little flutes of the minstrels... I miss the leather the most.

Duran: Is that some kind of euphemism?

Zevran: (Laughs) It may as well be! But not this once, no. I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather-making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits. Packed in like crates. I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else.

Duran: You sound like you've been away from home forever.

Zevran: Oh, not so long, I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly. Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship... Ah, but I was a fool to leave them. I thought, "Ah, Zevran, you can buy them when you return as a reward for a job well done?" More the fool I, no?

Duran: Your home is still there, Zevran.

Zevran: True, and it's a comforting thought. One simply knows what is to come next. How could I have suspected I would end up defeated by a handsome Grey Warden, a man who then spares my life? I could not.

Duran: You need to make the most of where you are.

Zevran: Quite right you are. I see the Grey Wardens do not recruit fools. Now, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful and hungry for a proper meal.

It's always the little things you miss the most when you leave home. Still, Antiva sounds nice and I hope it's done justice in a future game instead of being another Val Royeaux.

Duran: What does it take to become an assassin?

Zevran: Well, the Crows would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training, the sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you're good enough to start being considered one of them. But quite frankly the truth is that all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It's surprising how well one can do in such a field.

Duran: It doesn't take any special skill?

Zevran: I don't know about that. It's simply a slightly different skill set from your average killer, as I see it. An assassin simply specialises in striking from stealth... and in maximising that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitate your foe, either by poison or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow-up combat you need to engage in that much simpler.

Duran: That sounds like it could be useful.

Zevran: See? Getting paid for the act is beside the point. An assassin is more a tactical choice than a lifestyle. Of course, the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So let's just keep this between you and me, shall me, hmm?

Duran: Can you teach others to be an assassin?

Zevran: Oh, I certainly could. But I won't. I swore to the Crows that the things they taught me were to remain a secret. And while, yes, they are already angry at me... I'd rather not push things. You see?

Duran: Very well. I'll respect your word.

Zevran: If you are truly insistent... well.. let me think about it. The Crows are already angry at me, yes? Who knows?

That is really not the response I expected for an "okay you can keep their secrets" option.

Duran: Why did you want to leave the Crows, exactly?

Zevran: Well, now, I imagine that's a very fair question. Being an assassin, after all, is a living at least as far as such things go. I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?

Duran: But what would you rather do?

Zevran: Now that you mention it, I am not entirely certain. I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased. For three sovereigns, I'm told. Which is a good price, considering I was all ribs and bone and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die.

Duran: That sounds awful.

Zevran: I don't know about that. The Crows who are actually good enough to survive come to enjoy some of the benefits. In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women... and men, or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It's a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty. But confining.

Duran: I think I understand.

Zevran: As for what I'll do in the future... presuming that there is one... I truly can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into the business for myself, for a change. Far away from Antiva, of course. For now, naturally, I go wherever you go.

Duran: I'm happy to have you along.

Zevran: And here I am, happy to be had. Isn't it wonderful how things work out that way? Come, now. Enough chit-chat. Talking about the Crows summons them, you know. Any Antivan fishwife could tell you so.

Zevran needs a whole lot of hugs and some better coping mechanisms. I suck at empathy and even I can see that.

And despite the supposed ban on it the slave industry is still thriving even outside Tevinter. I wonder if that'll come up again

Two things, first, the missing second moon isn't just an Inquisition problem. Second, that's Klendagon (or maybe Mars).

Oghren: Come to talk to ol Oghren, have you? Don't know why.

Duran: What's wrong, Oghren?

Oghren: Nothing. I'm fine. Just. Got a hornet in my eye, is all. Did you want to talk about something?

Duran: I'd like to know more about you.

Oghren: What about?

Duran: What is it like to be a warrior in Orzammar?

Oghren: You get a sword or an axe and are told to go out and defend your city. It's the best thing in the world, that is until you try to live in the city you saved.

Duran: What do you mean?

Oghren: I mean, they train you to kill, teach you to harness your rage at the first noise you hear, then try to set a hundred sodding rules about it. Like those Provings. Ancestors show their favour through the strongest arm, right? So why so many rules saying how to fight and when you win, and not to bloody kill? Killing's what swords are for!

Duran: Why didn't they give you blunted weapons?

Oghren: You can kill with blunted weapons, Warden. Well, maybe you can't. Ach. This makes me cranky. Don't you have any other inane questions?

Duran: Actually, let's talk more some other time.

Huh, I guess Ferelden has hornets and Oghren can't tell why a continually dwindling force might be upset by the idea of losing forces unnecessarily.

Oghren: You there. Aye, you. I've been watching you. Where can I get some sauce for that rump roast?

Duran: Are you propositioning me?

Oghren: That's right. You've wiped your foot on the Oghren doormat of love. Go and make yourself ready, woman. I'll be right there to see to it.

Moving on...

Oghren: Whatcha need?

Duran: Can you teach me to fight like you do?

Oghren: You want to be a berserker? Ha! Thought I'd never see the day. Aye, I'll teach you. Just be ready. To be a berserker, you have to face your own inner rage, let the spirit of battle take over, and all that dust. There's a whole pile of philosophical rot that goes behind it, but the bedrock is this: Get real mad and kill things.

Duran: Tell me more about berserkers.

Oghren: What the sod is there to know? You get mad, you fly into battle, and things die. It's pretty simple. The hard part is getting in touch with your rage. We all learn to hold that back. It's why we don't kill every duster who looks at us sideways. You need to shut that off. For some people, being in battle is enough. But others have to think about something. Violence, monsters, nobles, your wife, whatever.

Duran: Your wife?

Oghren: Aye. Especially my wife.

Duran: Just thinking about it works?

Oghren: For most berserkers, it does. Several years ago, I worked with a berserker on one expedition who just couldn't work himself up. We had to kick him in the stones before he could get going.

Duran: Why would you want to fight that way?

Oghren: Why not? When you fight, you get mad. By the Stone, it's a sodding tactic to enrage your enemy so he makes a mistake, right? Berserkers grab that anger and drink it like it's yesterday's ale. Then we turn it against our foes and watch the limbs fly.

Duran: I'd like to learn how to be a berserker.

Oghren: I can teach you what gets my hackles in a twist, but no one can tell you what'll set off that killing rage in you. Finding that is the key to berserking. And once you've got that... I tell you. The ladies love it when you're all mysteriously angry for no reason. Trust me.

*time skip*

Oghren: You're a quick study, Warden. You must have been seriously steamed up about something for a long time.

Duran: Thank you for the lesson. Goodbye.

Oghren: Aye. All right, then.

I'd already picked Reaver so I may as well go with Berserker to continue the trend.

Sten: You called?

Duran: I wanted to discuss something you mentioned.

Sten: Speak, then.

Duran: You said something earlier about mages?

Sten: We have no mages as you do. We have beasts in the shape of men, who perform tricks.

Duran: Why don't you have mages?

Sten: We have mages. We simply don't have the sort you do.

Duran: What sort do you have?

Sten: Our mages are controlled to do less harm than yours. They have their tongues cut out, and are kept in pens.

Duran: Why have magic at all, if it's so evil?

Sten: We live in the world, and magic is part of it. One might as well reject the sky. Parshaara. Are we going to fight the darkspawn, or chatter until they grow bored and leave?

Duran: Let's go.

Sten: As you wish.

Do less harm is funny way of saying that they're turned into living weapons.

Duran: Do you find Ferelden very strange?

Sten: To put it lightly. No one has a place here. Your farmers wish to be merchants. The merchants dream of being nobles, and the nobles become warriors. No one is content to be who they are.

Duran: You sound a bit homesick.

Sten: ...Perhaps.

It's strange to be in a crowd and hear a language that is not your own. To see faces that are and aren't like yours. I miss the smells of Seheron. Tea and incense and the sea. Ferelden smells of wet dogs.

Duran: You left out rotting garbage.

Sten: True. I was trying to forget that part. Shall we move on?

Duran: Don't the qunari ever want to change their lot in life?

Sten: What does that accomplish? The farmer who buys a shop is never a merchant: He is always a farmer-turned-merchant. He carries his old life with him as a turtle carries its shell.

Duran: But that makes the turtle stronger.

Sten: Does it? It's also his weakness. If he stumbles and falls over, it pins him on his back. It is better to armor yourself with no more than what you need. One life, one duty.

Duran: You don't think happiness is important?

Sten: You can learn to find it in doing your duty, in serving your people. There is no need to search for it. Shall we move on?

Duran: Let's go.

Sten: As you wish.

One of Sten's best points is his willingness to have an extended argument about things. Personally I'd disagree with his assessment that you only need to stick to one role, experience with a seemingly unrelated role and mindset can be valuable for looking at your current situation in a new way and finding a solution to whatever today's problem is.

Leliana: Something I can help with?

Duran: I'd like to talk to you about something.

Leliana: Yes? Whatis on your mind?

Duran: Why did you decide to come to Ferelden?

Leliana: My mother was from Denerim and I consider myself a Fereldan. Mother served an Orlesian noblewoman who lived here when Orlais ruled. When Orlais was defeated and the common folk began to resent the presence of any Orlesian, the lady returned to Orlais. She took my mother with her. I was born in Orlais, and did not set foot in Ferelden till much later. Mother was always telling me stories of her homeland; I think she missed it.

Duran: What happened to your mother?

Leliana: Mother died when I was very young. Lady Cecilie let me stay with her. I had no one else. She was quite old then, and had me study music and dance to entertain her. It is unfair, that I have more memories of Cecilie than my mother.

Duran: Do you remember nothing of your mother?

Leliana: Strangely, the only thing I really remember of Mother was her scent. She kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes. Small, white Fereldan wildflowers with a sweet fragrance. Mother called them Andraste's Grace. They were very rare in Orlais. But enough about that. Let us move on.

Surprisingly decent to not just toss Leliana onto the streets.

Duran: I heard that in Orlais, minstrels are often spies.

Leliana: Where did you hear this?

Duran: I read it in a history book.

Leliana: And did you not think that this could be historical fact, and no longer true? (Laughs) Not all minstrels are spies, most are just singers and storytellers. But some of them are.... are what we call bards.

Duran: And the bards are spies?

Leliana: Bards are minstrels, and more. Spies, as you say. Some say there is a bard order, but I don't think this is true. Many bards work alone, or in small groups, doing the bidding of a patron who pays for their services. If there is an organisation behind it all, no one knows who they are.

Duran: Doesn't the monarchy govern them?

Leliana: The empress must have her own bards at her disposal, I suppose, but many are more... self-serving. In Orlais there is much rivalry amongst the high-born. They fight over land, influence and the favour of the empress. But they cannot do this openly, because it is impolite, and in public they wear smiling faces and pretend to be civil. In secret they plot and scheme to destroy each other. It is a game completely meaningless to anyone but its players.

Duran: You were a bard, weren't you?

Leliana: I have revealed too much, it seems. But it doesn't matter what I used to be. It is the past.

Duran: But why were you living as a cloistered sister in rural Ferelden?

Leliana: I... found myself in Ferelden and sheltered from bad weather in the Chantry. And when the storm passed I just... did not want to leave. I like to say the Maker brought me here.

The Game, the biggest waste of time, money and people ever invented in Thedas and the source of most of Orlais' problems. And for a professional liar that last bit is oddly sloppy.

I might as well collect the rumors too since oddly enough they're not on the wiki.

Bodahn: The dwarves have themselves a new king, I understand. One chosen by a Grey Warden too, if you can believe it. A lot of people are hoping this means they will help us fight the darkspawn now. That's what I've heard on the road, anyhow. Take it for what it is.
----
There's terrible news. Everyone is talking about a battle in the north between Loghain's men and Bann Bronach. The bann was utterly crushed. Someone told me he was meeting with Loghain to talk terms, but I don't believe it. Surely Loghain would never attack someone attempting to parley!
----
There's news out of the mage tower that the Circle of Magi had a close call. Demons got out, but the mages were able to overcome them... though not without a lot of damage. I know mages bring such terror upon themselves, but I have to admit I'm glad that we'll still have magic to wield against the darkspawn.
----
Arl Wulff has gone to Denerim to plead his case with Teyrn Loghain, I hear. West Hills has been hit hard by the darkspawn, and Wulff wants the fighting over the throne to stop.
----
Bann Ceorlic has announced that he's siding with the throne. That's not surprising, considering his lands border Loghain's. He probably fears what Loghain might do to him if he turns.
----
Some hunters who range into the Brecilian Forest say a Dalish clan there has fallen to some kind of sickness. The Blight, most likely, poor sods.
----
I hear from folks traveling the east roads that there's werewolves in the Brecilian Forest. Actual werewolves! They haven't been around since the days of Dane and his ilk.

Oh boy, attacking a noble trying to surrender or form a truce, that's either the worst thing possible to do in a civil war or if not it's close.

Duran: Let's talk about Orzammar, Lord Shaper.

Czibor: Ask, and I shall do my best to answer.

Duran: How did the caste system come to be?

Czibor: According to our legends, seven brothers founded our empire. The youngest, Bloadlikk, was the wisest and was chosen king.

His children formed the Noble Caste. The eldest, Kiotshett, trained his sons to defend their king. They became the Warrior Caste.

Shotkyar founded the artisans; Orzatyar forged our first swords. It was Orzammar who dug the mines that became our city's foundations.

The twins, Joapar and Knakkt both founded trading houses, but Knakkt was wounded in battle. On his recovery, he swore to serve his brother's sons.

Duran: What about the casteless?

Czibor: The casteless descend from criminals and those repudiated by their own families. Or who chose to go to the surface and live by human laws. They have no ancestors to guide them and no families to claim them. They should not have been born. Their parents defied their shame and brought cursed children into the world. It's better they die young.

Duran: It seems easy for you to dismiss them.

Czibor: Their births are not recorded in the Memories. In Orzammar, they do not exist. Is there something more pleasant you wish to discuss?

Duran: What's the difference between an ancestor and a Paragon?

Czibor: All dwarves who die return to the Stone as ancestors, to guide their families forever. But only one every few generations rises to Paragon. A Paragon is a dwarf whose accomplishments change Orzammar so much that the Assembly recognises they've been born blessed. They are venerated as living ancestors and found a new noble house forever bearing their name.

Duran: And that's what Branka was?

Czibor: Branka is a Paragon, now and into death. She was born a smith, but her inventions caught the Assembly's eye. Before she had seen twenty years, she created a smokeless coal. It could burn in a cave without vents and no one would choke from it. It earned her Paragon status.

Duran: Where is Branka now?

Czibor: She went into the Deep Roads two years ago seeking out secrets of the ancient smiths. She never returned.

Duran: Tell me some of Orzammar's history.

Czibor: Perhaps the books here can make up for the lack of attention you paid your elders. We were a great empire once, and our lands stretched through the Deep Roads. Kal Sharok was capital then. But we lost too many battles, we lost our golems, and we lost our territory. Now, the empire is simply ruined tunnels filled with darkspawn.

Duran: How did you lose your golems?

Czibor: The Paragon Caridin, a smith of unsurpassed genius, invented the golems. For years, they were our weapon against the darkspawn. One golem is worth a dozen dwarves in battle. But Caridin's thaig is far into the Deep Roads. When it fell, we lost his secret to creating golems. There are books about it along these walls if you would read more.

Duran: Where is Kal Sharok?

Czibor: At the other side of the old empire. During the last Blight, the kings of Orzammar knew they couldn't hold everything. They sealed the Deep Roads, abandoning everyone still trapped in far-flung settlements. It was the only way to survive. Kal Sharok is the only other city to outlast the Blight. We only rediscovered them recently, and they still haven't forgiven us.

Duran: Never mind. I should go.

Czibor: Your presence her has been recorded in the Memories. I wish I knew what significance it has.

Finally, a concrete number on how valuable golems are. Each of them is equivalent to a dozen veteran soldiers equipped with enchanted weaponry and full suits of armour.

Also smokeless coal, I could have sworn I saw something linking this to something made in the industrial revolution but I can't find it now.

Zevran: I understand that there are elves in the Qunari lands, Sten.
Sten: There are elves everywhere.
Zevran: Hm. Yes. Well, I've heard that the Qunari actually put the elves in charge? Over the humans? Is that true?
Sten: Some of them.
Zevran: Only some? Which ones are they?
Sten: The ones who belong in charge. That is the way of the Qun.
Zevran: How does this Qun determine who belongs in charge?
Sten: The tamassrans evaluate everyone and place them where their talents merit.
Zevran: But elves, in general, merit higher places than humans in Qunari society?
Sten: Some of them.
Zevran: Back where we began. It's like talking to a water wheel.

Ah Zevran, says he doesn't care that much about elves on one hand, displays unceasing interest and care the next.

Templar 1: In the name of Andraste, bride of the Maker, be welcome in this house. While the Cathedral is closed, if you need to make wedding or funeral arrangements, you'll have to talk to Sister Olma.

Templar 2: Did some one die? I remember a funeral...

Templar 1: King Cailan died, remember? Along with most of the army at Ostagar. Maker guide them all.

Duran: Why is the Cathedral closed?

Templar 2: 'That which you fear... living in the shadow of death alone. I have seen it is only a cloud... passing before the sun.'

Templar 1: The death toll at Ostagar was... staggering. We've had a funeral every day for a lost son or daughter of Denerim, and we've many more yet to hold.

Duran: What's wrong with your friend?

Templar 2: Are they singing the Chant now? It's a funeral... isn't it?

Templar 1: He should have retired to Val Royeaux years ago, but he wanted to stay and serve the remainder of his days in his homeland. It's the lyrium that does this.

Duran: Lyrium did this to him? Why doesn't he stop taking it?

Templar 1: He wouldn't be a templar anymore.

Templar 2: 'Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.'

Templar 1: He doesn't forget who he is, even if he can't remember anything else.

Duran: I'll come back later.

Templar 1: May the Light of the Maker guide your steps.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that shuffling any templars whose minds are going to Val Royeaux is intended to hide the effects of lyrium addiction from the general populace rather than to actually help them.

It's for the best that these guys only got a reference in future games, if they'd appeared more they'd have been turned into assholes.

Mage's Collective Representative: You're the Grey Warden, aren't you? Exactly who I was hoping to meet. I represent a collective of mages interested in going about their lives without the constant scrutiny of the Chantry. The collective is a self-policing guild of mages who simply want to be left alone. We mean no offense to the Chantry, but we would rather live on our own terms. Next to me, and in every major settlement, you will find an inconspicuous sack containing requests from mages all over the land who need the assistance of someone skillful and discreet.

Duran: I'll take a look at these requests.

Representative: Thank you, my friend. We have agents in every major settlement to reward you for work done on behalf of the collective. Maker's smile upon you.

Their goal of improving perception of magic by taking out problems before the Chantry is decent but doomed in the face of the Chantry's dedicated propaganda efforts.

The Mage's Collective said:
Despite the Loyalists' grasp on the mages' political community, many Libertarians and Aequitarians have begun to see eye to eye with respect to the Chantry's role in a mage's daily life. A growing number of mages, particularly those whose magic never strays from the Maker's mandate, feel that the Chantry's constant oversight is a burden upon their creativity and their very will, and one that hinders their ability to do their work.

These mages, along with a number of hedge wizards who work their arts outside the Chantry's influence, have formed a shadow-guild of sorts, a mages' collective, wherein members can submit requests and have them seen to without judgement. This collective manages to work in relative secrecy, their members discreet and their clients anonymous. As of yet, this collective has seen no sanction from the templars, and there has been no sign that its members are practicing magic of which the Maker would not approve.

Still, practicing magic outside of the influence of the Chantry is a dream for some and a dangerous notion for others, and many believe that it is only a matter of time before the veil of secrecy is lifted and the mages' collective is brought to swift and brutal justice.

--From A Treatise on Magic and Politics, by First Enchanter Josephus.

The mage's rebellion was building long before Anders got on the scene and either the Collective is operating in multiple countries or they've been around by some time if they're getting talked about in old textbooks.

Blood of Warning: While they tend to be careful and judicious in their use of force, the templars do, indeed, make mistakes. I understand that several relatives of our friends among the collective will soon become targets of the Chantry, and while I trust that this will not lead to lasting harm for those innocents, I wish to ensure that those targeted are fairly warned and evacuated before the Chantry can send its message. I ask that a noble soul take the bundle of vials attached to this missive and find the four homes the Chantry is likely to target in Denerim. Mark the front door of each home with the goat's blood from the vials. Those relatives will understand the message and evacuate before the Chantry can threaten them.

Have You Seen Me: The collective is saddened at the absence of the great mage Renold. Our friend has not been seen in quite some time, and our gatherings are the lesser for the loss of his tales of ribald exploits and the aroma of his delicious twice-baked meat pies. Renold was last seen traveling in the direction of the Becilian Forest. Oh, how he did so love the outdoors! Anyone who returns with evidence of the whereabouts of the beloved mage Renold will be rewarded.

The Scrolls of Banastor: In times such as these, one must suspect even his neighbour of the darkest dealings, lest they cast a shadow upon those who labour under the light.

I, Jubasto, have heard tell of a cabal of maleficarum performing rituals in the dark near my sanctum, and I certainly wish to see them brought to justice for their dark deeds. I hesitate, however, to accuse them of foul sorcery without a full understanding of the trappings, ritual, and appearance the dark magic requires.

The writings of the hated maleficarum Banastor should be suitable. Should a courier be available to procure me copies of the Scrolls of Banastor, I would be appropriately grateful.

If you're so confident in the Chantry not hurting them, why are you trying to get them to run away before the Chantry can find them when they're not even mages?

What are twice-baked pies like?

I am extremely suspicious of this man's motives but he isn't wrong about blood mages being near his house as we'll later see.

Guard: By order of the new arl of Denerim, no one is to enter the Alienage.

Duran: So you're just trapping all those people in there?

Guard: Maker, don't be so melodramatic. It's a temporary lock down, not a performance of Dane and the Werewolf. The arl's ordered the gates sealed until order is restored. No more than a day or two, I'd wager. They are rioting, killed the arl's son. With the whole Urien family dead, the regent appointed Rendon Howe of Amaranthine the new arl of Denerim. First thing he did was lead a purge of the Alienage. It's a mess in there. When things are put back in order, the gates will be reopened. Now, on your way.

It's worth noting that this happens even for a city elf who takes sole responsibility, it's a bit of a gut punch.

Ser Landry: I recognise you... from Ostagar. Andraste's blood, you're a Grey Warden! Duncan's apprentice. You killed my friend--and good King Cailan. I demand satisfaction, ser.

Duran: (Persuade) (lie) Me? A Grey Warden? You must be mistaken.

Landry: P-pardon me, ser. You must think I'm a fool. You really do look like... too much ale. Yes, too much. Excuse me.

And so Ser Landry keeps his life if not his dignity.

Meet Weylon, Genitivi's assistant in finding new peoples and lands so the Chantry can come kill them.

Weylon: Yes? What are you doing here?

Duran: Who are you?

Weylon: My name is Weylon. I am the assistant of the scholar Brother Genitivi. This is his house.

Duran: Who is Brother Genitivi?

Weylon: He is an eminent scholar and researcher, who serves the great Chantry. When you first came in I was... was hoping that you had news of Brother Genitivi--wishful thinking, it seems.

Duran: News? What news are you waiting for?

Weylon: I haven't seen Brother Genitivi in weeks. He's sent no word, it's so unlike him. Genitivi was on the trail of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. I fear he has gotten too close to the truth.

Duran: What do you think he discovered?

Weylon: I don't know. He was very excited when he left, and said he would be back with all the answers. Perhaps the Urn has been lost for a reason. I pray for Genitivi's safety, but hope dwindles with each passing day. I-I tried to send help, but some knights came from Redcliffe looking for him not too long ago. I sent them after Genitivi and they too have disappeared.

Duran: Where did you send them?

Weylon: No, don't ask me where they went. You'll go after them, and what if ill luck should befall you, too? This search is a curse, on all of us. Some things are not meant to be found. I know that now.

Duran: I am willing to risk it. Tell me where he went.

Weylon: (Sigh) So be it. All he said before he left was that he would be staying at an inn near Lake Calenhad, investigating something in that area.

Duran: What exactly was he investigating?

Weylon: I don't know. All I discovered from going through his research was that he was staying at the inn.

Duran: (Cunning) But you just said that he spoke to you and told you that.

Weylon: Y-yes, of course he told me, but I also went through his things to see if I could find other clues to his whereabouts.

Duran: And I suppose you found no other clues?

Weylon: N-no, I didn't. Everything pointed to the same place. You're wasting time. If you insist on going after Brother Genitivi, you should leave as soon as possible.

Duran: (Cunning) You said I shouldn't go looking for Genitivi, or the Urn.

Weylon: I mean, well... you seemed so earnest. If anyone is to find him, they should do it sooner rather than later.

Duran: All right. I should be going.

Weylon: Good luck. May you find the answers you seek.

It's fun poking holes in his story, if you do it enough you can even skip the inn visit, it's also a good example of how the Cunning stat is also the brains stat.

Brother Genitivi said:
"As it is the duty of all true sons of the Chantry to make the Chant heard from every corner of the world, I made it my mission to find as many corners of the world as possible. The Maker can hardly expect us to do one without the other."
--Excerpt from In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar by Brother Genitivi

Brother Genitivi is one of the Chantry's most well-known scholars, primarily on the basis of the stories he has published (which many of his contemporaries dismiss as fanciful) of his travels across the length and breadth of Thedas.

Once quest for The Urn of Sacred Ashes starts: His travels, and rather too-curious nature, led him to a study of folklore, which gave him the notion that he could track down that most-debated of all artifacts: the Urn of Sacred Ashes. He announced that he had found what appeared to be the trail of the Urn, left in the legends of the regions through which it had passed from Minrathous on its way into hiding.

It's kind of sad that a guy who likes to explore has to frame it as scouting out future targets for Chantry aggression.

Dragon Cults said:
Let us suggest, for the moment, that a high dragon is simply an animal. A cunning animal, to be sure, but in possession of no true self-awareness or sentience. There has not, after all, been a single recorded case of a dragon attempting to communicate or performing any act that could not likewise be attributed to a clever beast.

How, then, does one explain the existence of so-called "dragon cults" throughout history?

One dragon cult might be explainable, especially in light of the reverence of the Old Gods in the ancient Tevinter Imperium. In the wake of the first Blight, many desperate imperial citizens turned to the worship of real dragons to replace the Old Gods who had failed them. A dragon, after all, was a god-figure that they could see: It was there, as real as the archdemon itself, and, as evidence makes clear, did offer a degree of protection to its cultists.

Other dragon cults could be explained in light of the first. Some cult members might have survived and spread the word. The worship of the Old Gods was as widespread as the Imperium itself--certainly such secrets could have made their way into many hands. But there have been reports of dragon cults even in places where the Imperium never touched, among folks who had never heard of the Old Gods or had any reason to. How does one explain them?

Members of a dragon cult live in the same lair as a high dragon, nurturing and protecting its defenseless young. In exchange, the high dragon seem to permit those cultists to kill a small number of those young in order to feast on draconic blood. That blood is said to have a number of strange long-term effects, including bestowing greater strength and endurance, as well as an increased desire to kill. It may breed insanity as well. Nevarran dragon-hunters have said these cultists are incredibly powerful opponents. The changes in the cultists are a form of blood magic, surely, but how did the symbiotic relationship between the cult and the high dragon form in the first place? How did the cultists know to drink the dragon's blood? How did the high dragon convince them to care for its young, or know that they would?

Is there more to draconic intelligence than we have heretofore guessed at? No member of a dragon cult has ever been taken alive, and what accounts exist from the days of the Nevarran hunters record only mad rants and impossible tales of godhood. With dragons only recently reappearing and still incredibly rare, we may never know the truth, but the question remains.

--From Flame and Scale, by Brother Florian, Chantry scholar, 9:28 Dragon.

As it turns out, dragons are smart they just not very chatty.

Chantry Heirarchy said:
The Divine is the titular head of the Chantry, although since the schism split the Imperial Chantry into its own faction there are now in fact two Divines at any one time. One Divine, informally called the White Divine, is a woman housed in the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. The other, known as the Black Divine, is a man housed in the Argent Spire in Minrathous.

Neither Divine recognizes the existence of the other, and the informal names are considered sacrilegious. No matter the gender, a Divine is addressed as "Most Holy" or "Your Perfection."

Beneath the rank of Divine is the grand cleric. Each grand cleric presides over numerous chantries and represents the highest religious authority for their region. They travel to Val Royeaux when the College of Clerics convenes, but otherwise remain where they are assigned. All grand clerics are addressed as "Your Grace."

Beneath the grand cleric is the mother (or, in the Imperial Chantry, the father). If a mother is in charge of a particular chantry, "revered" is appended to her title. These are the priests responsible for administering to the spiritual well-being of their flock. A mother or revered mother is addressed as "Your Reverence."

Brothers and sisters form the rank and file of the Chantry and consist of three main groups: affirmed, initiates, and clerics. Affirmed are the lay-brethren of the Chantry, those regular folk who have turned to the Chantry for succor. Often they are people who have led a difficult or irreligious life and have chosen to go into seclusion, or even orphans and similar unfortunates who were raised into the Chantry life. The affirmed take care of the Chantry and are in turn afforded a life of quiet contemplation, no questions asked.

Only those folk who take vows become initiates. These are men and women in training, whether in academic knowledge or the martial skills of a warrior. All initiates receive an academic education, although only those who seek to become templars learn how to fight in addition.

Clerics are the true academics of the Chantry, those men and women who have dedicated themselves to the pursuit of knowledge. They are often found in Chantry archives, sages presiding over libraries of books and arcane knowledge. The most senior of these clerics, placed in charge of such archives, are given the title "elder," although such a rank is still beneath that of mother. All other brothers and sisters are addressed simply by noting their title before their name, such as "Brother Genitivi."

—From a guide for ambassadors from Rivain.

As usual you just can't call the important people by their names. And the ambassadors from Rivain need this reminder because the Chantry is a relatively minor force in Rivain.

It is said that at the Battle of Valarian Fields, Maferath stood and looked out over his armies. He had conquered the southern reaches of the greatest empire the world had ever known and built splintered barbarian clans into a force to be feared. With pride in his heart, he turned to congratulate his men and found that they had turned from him.

Maferath fell to the evil of jealousy. After all that he had done, his wife was the one to receive all the glory. He saw his wife's power and influence, and tired of his place as second husband, below the Maker. His heart swelled with fury. If he had conquered just to have his wife wrested from him by a forgotten god and a legion of faith-hungry rabble, then perhaps this war was not worth the trouble.

Here, history and the Chant of Light come apart. History tells us that Maferath looked north into the central Imperium and saw nothing but more war against a rapidly regrouping army, and he despaired. The Chant of Light holds that Maferath chafed with jealousy of the Maker, and jealousy of the glory that Andraste received although it was he who led the armies.

Maferath traveled to the Imperial capital of Minrathous to speak with the Archon Hessarian. There he offered up his wife to the Imperium in return for a truce that would end hostilities once and for all. The archon, eager to put down the voice of the prophet that stirred his own people against him, agreed. Maferath led Andraste into an ambush where she was captured by Imperial agents, putting an end to her Exalted March.

Crowds of loyalists stood in the central square of Minrathous to watch Andraste's execution. By command of the archon, she was burned at the stake in what the Imperium believed to be the most painful punishment imaginable. According to the Chantry, however, Andraste was instead purified and made whole by the flames, ascending to life at her Maker's side. By all accounts, there was only silence where they expected screams. At the sight of the prophet burning, the crowds were filled with a profound guilt, as if they had participated in a great blasphemy. So moving was the moment that the archon himself drew his sword and thrust it into the prophet's heart, ending her torment and leaving those assembled to consider the weight of what they had seen.

Whereas the execution of Andraste was meant to be a symbol of defeat for the faith of the Maker, in truth it all but sealed the fate of the worship of the Old Gods and paved the way for the spread of the Maker's chant.

--From Tales of the Destruction of Thedas, by Brother Genitivi, Chantry scholar.

Nothing quite makes a cause quite like a martyr.

The Noladar Anthology of Dwarven Poetry said:
The undead exhumed
Borne from the shallowest graves
Mined from the living

-- By the Paragon Lynchcar, 7:44 Storm.

Do you like fried mush and nug?

I do not like them Mister Klug
I do not like fried mush and nug

Would you eat them on a rug?
If you eat, you'll get a hug!

I would not eat them on a rug
From you I would not want a hug

Then would you drink them from a jug?
Come on, come on, give them a chug!

I would not drink them from a jug
I'd rather eat a slimy slug

Would you eat them with a bug?
Would you share them with a thug?

I would not share them with a thug
I would not eat them with a bug
Not for a hug
Not on a rug
From a jug
I will not chug
Come on, come on, now mister Klug
Are you on some kind of drug?

Eat them in this hole I dug
Eat them, eat them, don't just shrug

I've had it, had it, Mister Klug!
Down, into that hole you dug
Down with the thug
And the slug
And the bug

-- By the Paragon Seuss, 2:12 Glory.

Never surrender
Dwarvish blood may be lukewarm
But vital as ore

-- By the Paragon Lynchcar, 7:48 Storm.

There was once a miner of lyrium,
Whose face looked like a perineum,
The dead got him too,
Not much he could do,
With a face like that he was shoe-in.

-- By the wordsmith Carlol of House Yonoch, 9:11 Dragon.

After The Descent this feels oddly suspicious.

And yet more talking with an Orlesian merchant.

Lisette: Good day. The market is busy, is it not? Come rest here. I have the finest selection of flowers and Orlesian scented oils in all of Denerim. For a lady friend, perhaps? Roses can open any woman's heart, you know.

Duran: Where are you from?

Lisette: I am from Orlais. You've heard of us, no? This Denerim is a fine city, but I miss my Val Royeaux. She's quite beautiful this time of year.

Duran: Why did you leave?

Lisette: Orlais has many, many good tings--but it is sometimes not so good to be... common? My brother and I had trouble with a chevalier and we departed shortly after.

Duran: What's a chevalier?

Lisette: You know so little of Orlais here. The chevalier are knights of the highest order. They are the most skilled in the world, their discipline formidable. For their service they are allowed... privileges. These privileges are not always fair... I was a victim once. They can do whatever they want to the lesser-born.

Duran: Why do people put up with them?

Lisette: Because there is little choice. There are so many wonderful things about Orlais, but Ferelden has something precious. Here a man.. or a woman, is born free and lives free. I do not understand it, but the nobles here are not so high. And none of us are quite so low. As much as I miss my Val Royeaux, I love where I am.

Duran: What sort of trouble did you get in?

Lisette: A chevalier... took an interest in me. It was his right, but it was unwelcome. Incensed, my brother hit him over the head with a pot. Such a thing is almost treason. We left that very night and came here.

Duran: But what your brother did is right!

Lisette: Perhaps where you are from. But in human lands, things are sometimes not so clear. Many revere the chevaliers for their skill, honor and deeds. But others tread lightly. As lightly as the mouse in the cat's den. If you will excuse me. I-I feel a touch light-headed.

Ferelden might smell of wet dog but it has every country yet seen beat in terms of not having untouchable asshole nobles or slaves.

Politics of Ferelden said:
To our neighbors, Ferelden seems utterly chaotic. Unlike other monarchies, power does not descend from our throne. Rather, it rises from the support of the freeholders.

Each freehold chooses the bann or arl to whom it pays allegiance. Typically, this choice is based on proximity of the freehold to the lord's castle, as it's worthless to pay for the upkeep of soldiers who will arrive at your land too late to defend it. For the most part, each generation of freeholders casts its lot with the same bann as their fathers did, but things can and do change. No formal oaths are sworn, and it is not unheard of, especially in the prickly central Bannorn, for banns to court freeholders away from their neighbors--a practice which inevitably begets feuds that last for ages.

Teyrns arose from amongst the banns, warleaders who, in antiquity, had grown powerful enough to move other banns to swear fealty to them. There were many teyrns in the days before King Calenhad, but he succeeded in whittling them down to only two: Gwaren in the south, Highever in the north. These teyrns still hold the oaths of banns and arls who they may call upon in the event of war or disaster, and similarly, the teyrns still hold responsibility for defending those sworn to them.

The arls were established by the teyrns, given command of strategic fortresses that could not be overseen by the teyrns themselves. Unlike the teyrns, the arls have no banns sworn to them, and are simply somewhat more prestigious banns.

The king is, in essence, the most powerful of the teyrns. Although Denerim was originally the teyrnir of the king, it has since been reduced to an arling, as the king's domain is now all of Ferelden. But even the king's power must come from the banns.

Nowhere is this more evident than during the Landsmeet, an annual council for which all the nobles of Ferelden gather, held for almost three thousand years except odd interruptions during Blights and invasions. The sight of a king asking for--and working to win--the support of "lesser" men is a source of constant wonder to foreign ambassadors.

--From Ferelden: Folklore and History, by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar

The bit about arls having no banns sworn to them feels like it contradicts Awakening. And every year the king has to convince people he should still be king? I doubt we'll ever see one of those thanks to worldstates but it sounds like it could be a fun concept, especially with how many traditions must be attached to a ceremony that's been running for longer than the Tevinter Imperium has existed.

On the way to the lake Renold is found slain by his apprentice turned abomination and he has a feldspar ring that'll clog the key items section for the rest of the game.

Places of Power: Hear me and obey: My power waning, I, Krebulash the Epithet, require a reconnection to the mystic places I have left behind. You, the bearer of this note, shall travel to these places and trace upon them my personal glyphs, claiming their eldritch energies for my own. You will come upon sites of mystic power in the ancient places of the world: the Brecilian Forest, the Deep Roads, the heart of Denerim and near the base of the Circle Tower.
----
Careless Accusations: The activities of the maleficarum on my doorstep did not go unnoticed, and now I am in danger of being brought before the templars myself! A small band of drifters claim to have seen me practicing forbidden arts, and they have left to deliver testimony of my alleged deeds to the Chantry! I ask the mages' collective to find and stop these false witnesses by any means necessary. They were traveling on along the road from Lothering to Denerim, where their lies will seal my fate.
----
Notice of Termination: There comes a time in each young mage's life that he must strike forth from beneath the shadow of his mentor. For my three young and unremarkable apprentices, this time is now. He who accepts this calling takes it upon himself to deliver documents of congratulations to my apprentices, who will no doubt be uninformed as to the contents of the missive. The apprentices' names are Starrick, Aleena and Sheth. I have cleverly sent them away from my abode so that they receive this information in a public place, thus guaranteeing the safety of my willing courier. You will find two of them in Denerim. The other is procuring a slightly rarer item from Orzammar. And be sensitive. I would not wish harm upon their delicate feelings.
----
Thy Brother's Killer: My worst fears have been realised: A band of devilish maleficarum are performing their profane rituals within close proximity to my own sanctum! This cannot stand. I, Jubasto, charge he who accepts this request to destroy the fiends before their evil brings unwanted attention from either templars or demons to my back door! Travel to the Brecilian Forest and slay these blasphemers!
----
Herbal Magic: Disaster! So consumed have I been in my personal projects that I have neglected to collect vital components of the herbal remedy I use to sharpen my mind for thoughts of the other world! Without it, I am ruined. Ruined!

I will humbly reward any who bring me ten bundles of Deep Mushrooms. With this, I can continue on my quest for enlightenment with a clear mind and fewer bouts of drowsiness and indigestion. May he who accepts this request be showered in riches and love from the Maker's heart for this noble and selfless act! This is literally my salvation!

First, this idea of land granting power is never going to be touched again in the series (unless you count Zathrian), second, Krebulash the Epithet, really?

And I can only assume magic was involved in Jubasto getting this request out before the messengers arrived.

Innkeeper: Good day, and welcome to the Spoiled Princess! Is there something I can get for you?

Duran: Is there a Brother Genitivi here?

Innkeeper: Brother Geni--no... no, of course not. I've never heard of him.

Duran: What about knights from Redcliffe? Have you seen any?

Innkeeper: No, no... I haven't seen any knights.

Duran: You seem nervous.

Innkeeper: Why would I be nervous? Listen, the person you're looking for isn't here. You should be on your way as soon as possible.

Duran: (Persuade) Are you in some trouble? You can trust me.

Innkeeper: Th-they're watching me. I can't speak freely...

*Duran's character model starts looking around*

don't! Don't look around, and keep your voice down. They're looking for anyone asking for this Brother Genitivi. They told me to act like nothing was wrong, and just deny ever having seen the brother, or the knights.

Duran: Is there anything I can do to help you?

Innkeeper: What can you do? I-I do what they want because they'll hurt my family. I have no choice. You should be on your guard, and leave quickly. I don't know what happened to the knights, but I doubt it was anything good.

Duran: Thank you. I'll be careful.

Innkeeper: Goodbye and... Maker turn His gaze on you.

True to form they jump you right outside the inn.

And right away you know you're dealing with a dragon cult if you read the codex entries. Also the templar at the docks will back you up.

Innkeeper: You... you dealt with them! Oh Maker, I thought this nightmare would never end! Thank you so much! They said they'd kill my wife and son if I said anything about them. Do you know who they were?

Duran: They're trying to stop me from finding Andraste's ashes.

Innkeeper: Andraste's... ashes? Th-the legend. Maker's breath! I probably shouldn't ask. I'm just an innkeeper, trying to make his way through life... There are some things I don't need to know. Thank you again. You'll always be welcome here.

It's sad that the devs have confirmed they won't touch the Maker, it'd be funny to watch the fandom kick itself over every "Maker's breath" if he was revealed to be something dragon related.

Weylon: Y-you're back?

Duran: Surprised? Expected me to be dead?

Weylon: I am glad you are alive, of course.

Duran: The inn was an ambush!

Weylon: If you live... then my fellows have failed. I can see their deaths in your eyes. I knew them well...

My brothers died in the service of Andraste, may She draw their souls to Her and cast yours into oblivion!

For Andraste!

And with that Smithers pulls out the magic and tries to strike us down.

He had a few days and still didn't clean up the body.

Back at camp Leliana has one last thing to say before this talk-a-thon ends.

Leliana: I lied to you, you know? About why I left Orlais.

Duran: So you didn't get tired of the life?

Leliana: In a way I did, but these feelings were triggered by events which I did not tell you about. I didn't feel like talking about it then. What happened to me... maybe it will affect us, maybe not, but you should know. I came to Ferelden and the Chantry because I was being hunted, in Orlais.

Duran: Hunted? What for?

Leliana: I was framed, betrayed by someone I thought I knew and could trust. Marjolaine--she was my mentor... and friend. She taught me the bardic arts--how to enchant with words and song, to carry myself like a high-born lady, to blend in as a servant... The skills I learned to serve her.. my bard-master, because I loved her, and because I enjoyed what I did.

Duran: So you were dutiful, but you still got in trouble?

Leliana: You can say it was my fault. There was a man I was sent to kill. I was to bring Marjolaine everything he carried. I don't know who this man was. She gave me a name and a description.. and I hunted him down. I found documents on his body--sealed documents.

Duran: You opened them, didn't you?

Leliana: My curiosity got the better of me. Something told me I needed to know what was in those letters. Marjolaine... had been selling all kinds of information about Orlais to other countries-- Nevarra and Antiva, among others. It was treason.

Duran: Isn't that what bards do?

Leliana: Some. But I had always assumed Marjolaine only operated within Orlais. This was an unhappy surprise for me. My life as a bard taught me that my loyalties should be kept fluid. My concern was not that she was a traitor, but that her life would be in danger if she was caught. Orlais has gone to war with so many countries. It takes a harsh view of such things... as I later discovered.

Duran: Did you give the documents to someone?

Leliana: To Marjolaine. No one else. I resealed them and gave them to her, as she had instructed. I should have left well alone, but I didn't. I had to tell Marjolaine I feared for her life. She brushed aside my concern. She admitted her guilt, but said it was in the past. That is why the documents had to be destroyed, she said. I believed her. I kept believing, up till the moment they showed me the documents, altered by her hand to make me look the traitor.

Duran: Who's 'they?'

Leliana: The Orlesian guards. They captured me... did terrible things to make me confess and reveal my conspirators. It was a traitor's punishment I endured, and at the end of it, all that awaited me was eternity in an unmarked grave.

Duran: How did you get out?

Leliana: The skills Marjolaine taught me were good for something, at least. I broke free when I saw the opportunity. I did not seek Marjolaine out. If she thought I was coming for her, she would have me caught again.

Duran: And so you came to Ferelden, to Lothering.

Leliana: I was tempted to confront her, I was furious, betrayed, but what could I do against her? And so I fled, to Ferelden, to the Chantry and the Maker. Ferelden protected my person, and the Maker saved my soul. And that is the reason I am here. The real reason. No more lies between us, at least in this.

Duran: Thank you for trusting me with this.

Leliana: It feels good to have this off my chest. Thank you for listening, and understanding.

I can only assume that the secrets that were sold to Antiva were things like patents, recipes and designs.

One last question, do you want me to cover Leliana's Song next or to wait until after Haven and the temple are done?

Xkeizer · Dec 23, 2018

The Curious Fan said:
Will fantasy writers ever tire of dwarf jokes?

Unlikely.

Of course, living underground all your life, even in a place as open as Orzammar, doesn't really prepare you for having nothing above your head except air.

It's an interesting concept that few other franchises ever really touch upon if at all.

Oh would you look at that, just casually suggesting that they don't get a decent cremation out of sheer laziness. Fuck you Templar 2.

The fact that he seems to have forgotten or completely ignored the rumors of things in the lake that have been affected by the tests and such of the mages doesn't exactly help. Giving them a taste for human flesh isn't going to help things and would likely wound up being blamed on the mages somehow.

And that's how the Chantry keeps the Templars leashed. The idea that lyrium doesn't do anything at all for their powers has been disproven over the years but the core bits that they don't need lyrium to have them and that they're deliberately given far too much lyrium to ensure addiction are still there.

Also grand clerics have the ability to arrest people that haven't broken any laws in the middle of Ferelden, that is way too much power for a church.

The Chantry: has ever done anything actually good for anyone?

And Shale's comment about abandoning a frail body makes me wonder why they don't try to recruit the elderly for being golems, there are a lot of old people who'd jump on a deal of "serve for X years and if you're still alive you go free and live on as a golem", you'd just have to set it so the number of years required means that they'll mostly die before then.

It does sound like a decent idea, and there likely were a number of them among the volunteers. Unfortunately were in a dark fantasy setting and the 'smart and likely necessary' ideas aren't always done. They could have even had a past corrupt/evil/whatever king require the elderly become golems,

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that shuffling any templars whose minds are going to Val Royeaux is intended to hide the effects of lyrium addiction from the general populace rather than to actually help them.

Knowing the chantry? More likely the you think (though

It's kind of sad that a guy who likes to explore has to frame it as scouting out future targets for Chantry aggression.

Unfortunately he's unlikely to have found anyone else willing to fund/help him with his travels otherwise. Or at the very least he'd have a harder time getting the information out to everyone.

It's sad that the devs have confirmed they won't touch the Maker, it'd be funny to watch the fandom kick itself over every "Maker's breath" if he was revealed to be something dragon related.

And one of the greater ironies given everything they've done to Tevinter.

One last question, do you want me to cover Leliana's Song next or to wait until after Haven and the temple are done?

I could go with either, not really particular unless one or the other winds up being easier for you, in which case do that.

The Curious Fan · Dec 23, 2018

Xkeizer said:
The Chantry: has ever done anything actually good for anyone?

It's helped Sebastian and Leliana even ignoring offscreen charity and it's been great for Orlais.

Xkeizer said:
I could go with either, not really particular unless one or the other winds up being easier for you, in which case do that.

It's not a matter of ease, it's just that I've already got the screenshots for both.

Xkeizer · Dec 23, 2018

Maybe before Haven and the temple, not sure I've seen it done before if there's any real difference.

Destynova1 · Dec 24, 2018

In regards to the Broodmothers, the lore from later games/books says that the Grey Wardens offer suicide as an option for women GW instead of going into the roads(Just how I don't know. Done by a fellow GW, poison, or picking a fight with a demon)

The Curious Fan · Dec 24, 2018

Xkeizer said:
Maybe before Haven and the temple, not sure I've seen it done before if there's any real difference.

Leliana's Song is a DLC campaign it's entirely separate from the main game.

And I see someone had fun in the tags.

Dragon Age: Origins Ultimate edition

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A Knight for those Suffering

Elven Supremacist

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Neoliberal Genghis Khan

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Slava Ukraini!

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