Dragon Age: Origins Ultimate edition

shenron · Aug 16, 2015

[X] City Elf

TheFish 2 · Aug 16, 2015

[X] Dorf Noble

Larekko12 · Aug 18, 2015

[X]Dwarf Duster

Elle S. · Aug 18, 2015

[X] City Noble

Wedding!

The Curious Fan · Aug 18, 2015

Mizuki00 said:
[X] City Noble

I already did that one.

EDIT: Thought you were voting human noble not city elf.

mr_stibbons · Aug 18, 2015

[X] Dwarf noble

Xkeizer · Aug 18, 2015

Mizuki00 said:
[X] City Noble

Wedding!

I think you mean City Elf.

StormLord · Aug 18, 2015

[x] City Elf

Elves then dwarves. I don't think I've spent much if any time with the dwarf origins.

Elle S. · Aug 18, 2015

Oh lol, I was sure I said City Elf. Mind please! So embarrassed, hehe~

[X] City ELf

VolantRedX · Aug 18, 2015

[X] Human Noble. It has the most relation to most of the story going on.

The Curious Fan · Aug 18, 2015

VolantRedX said:
[X] Human Noble. It has the most relation to most of the story going on.

https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/posts/4051990/

I've done that and the human noble origin already.

The Curious Fan · Oct 12, 2015

It's been a while since I worked on this due to getting distracted by Dark Souls and Jojo but I've finally got another update done for this.

Unlike humans, city elves start off with one point in coercion rather than one point in combat training. I have to say that hairstyle choices are limited though, I had a hard time making a character that didn't look like one of the game's NPCs.

It's probably not a good sign that the entrance has at least four armed guards posted at it.

Duncan: Denerim: the largest city and capital of Ferelden. Long ago, the elves lived as slaves to humans, and though they have been free for many generations now, they are far from equals. Here they live in a walled-off community known as the Alienage, working as servants and laborers when they can. Despite these hardships, Denerim's elves are a strong people who take pride in their close community. This is the only would you've ever known... until now.

Welcome to City Elf life, you have basically no rights, you're poor and your chances of dying of disease or hate crimes are quite high.

This is Shianni, your heavy drinker of a cousin, she's nice enough but alcohol leads to a really bad decision on her part.

Shianni: Wake up, Cousin! Why are you still in bed? It's your big day!

Kallian: Huh? What? Did I oversleep? (Argh)...

Shianni: Yes. Your father and I figured you deserved it. You do remember what today is, don't you?

Kallian: Someone's wedding?

Shianni: A double wedding! You're getting married, and so is Soris! That's what I came to tell you! Your groom, Nelaros... he's here early!

Kallian: So that means we do it now? I'm not ready!

Shianni: Well, it's going to happen anyway, so hold your breath and jump in! There's going to be music, decorations, feasting... weddings are so much fun! You're so lucky!

Kallian: And how does Soris feel?

Shianni: I think he's just glad he's not alone. He's sweating so much, he looks like a human. (laughs)

All right, I'll stop tormenting you. I should go talk to the other bridesmaids and find my dress. Oh, Soris said that he'll be waiting for you outside. So move it!

The wedding dress, it's not bad looking but I vaguely recall seeing an identical dress as standard clothing for Dwarven nobles.

There's also a codex for Alienage Culture.

There have been alienages for as long as elves and shems have lived in the same lands. They say that Val Royeaux has ten thousand elves living in a space no bigger than Denerim's market. Their walls are supposedly so high that daylight doesn't reach the vhenadahl until midday.

But don't be so anxious to start tearing down the walls and picking fights with the guards. They keep out more than they keep in. We don't have to live here, you know. Sometimes a family gets a good break, and they buy a house in the docks, or the outskirts of town. If they're lucky, they come back to the alienage after the looters have burned their house down. The unlucky ones just go to the paupers' field.

Here, we're among family. We look out for each other. Here, we do what we can to remember the old ways. The flat-ears who have gone out there, they're stuck. They'll never be human, and they've gone and thrown away being elven, too. So where does that leave them? Nowhere.

--Sarethia, hahren of the Highever alienage

Alienages suck. I can see why so many elves hate humans.

Now to talk to our father, Cyrion.

Cyrion: Ah, my little girl. It's... the last day I'll be able to call you that. Oh, I wish your mother could have been there!

Kallian: Me too, Father. Well, what should I be doing?

Cyrion: All right, time for you to go find Soris. The sooner this wedding starts, the less chance you two have to escape.

Kallian: A small chance is still a chance.

Cyrion: (chuckles) Still have your mother's smart mouth, I see. Oh, one last thing before you go, my dear. Your martial training... the swordplay, knives, and whatever else your mother trained you in. Best not to mention it to your betrothed.

Kallian: He'll find out sooner or later.

Cyrion: Later. Definitely later. We don't want to seem like troublemakers, after all. Adaia made that mistake.

Kallian: The humans who killed her made a bigger one.

Cyrion: Our world is full of so many injustices. Take this. Your mother would have wanted you to have it. It's the very least I can give you, as you start your new life. Go on, then. I still have some things to do, and Soris is no doubt waiting for you.

After this, I find another codex entry, this time on City Elves.

The humans tell tales of Andraste, and to them, she was a prophet. To our people, however, she was an inspiration. Her rebellion against Tevinter gave our people a window through which to see the sun, and we reached toward it with all our strength. The rebellion was brief but successful; even after the death of the prophetess, we fought on for independence as the human Imperium began to crumble. In the end, we won freedom and the southern land known as the Dales, and we began the Long Walk to our new homeland.

There, in the Dales, our people revived the lost lore as best we could. We called the first city Halamshiral, "end of the journey," and founded a new nation, isolated as elves were meant to be, this time patrolled by an order of Emerald Knights charged with watching the borders for trouble from humans.

But you already know that something went wrong. A small elven raiding party attacked the nearby human village of Red Crossing, an act of anger that prompted the Chantry to retaliate and, with their superior numbers, conquer the Dales.

We were not enslaved as we had been before, but our worship of the ancient gods was now forbidden. We were allowed to live among the humans only as second-class citizens who worshipped their Maker, forgetting once more the scraps of lore we had maintained through the centuries.

--"The Rise and Fall of the Dales," as told by Sarethia, hahren of the Highever alienage

Compare and contrast it with the version you get if you're not a City Elf (Dalish get their own version to be shown in their origin).

When the holy Exalted March of the Dales resulted in the dissolution of the elven kingdom, leaving a great many elves homeless once again, the Divine Renata I declared that all lands loyal to the Chantry must give the elves refuge within their own walls. Considering the atrocities committed by the elves at Red Crossing, this was a great testament to the Chantry's charity. There was one condition, however--the elves were to lay aside their pagan gods and live under the rule of the Chantry.

Some of the elves refused our goodwill. They banded together to form the wandering Dalish elves, keeping their old elven ways--and their hatred of humans--alive. To this day, Dalish elves still terrorize those of us who stray too close to their camps. Most of the elves, however, saw that it was wisest to live under the protection of humans.

And so we took the elves into our cities and tried to integrate them. We invited them into our own homes and gave them jobs as servants and farmhands. Here, in Denerim, the elves even have their own quarter, governed by an elven keeper. Most have proven to be productive members of society. Still, a small segment of the elven community remains dissatisfied. These troublemakers and malcontents roam the streets causing mayhem, rebelling against authority and making a general nuisance of themselves.

--From Ferelden: Folklore and History, by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar

Just a bit of a difference between the two perspectives.

Once I leave the house, I see a trio of drunks with one singing a silly song.

Drunk: Oh, there once was a woman; she lived in the sea,

I didn't love her, but I think she loved me,

I brought her diamonds, rubies, silver, and gold,

But all she wanted was to be saved from the cold!

She begged me to catcher, convinced me I should!

I promised her a house, all grey stone and wood!

We made love in the sea, we made love on the shore,

I was just there for playing, but she wanted more,

But there's one small problem, you see' I can't grant her wish,

My wife gets suspicious when I come home smelling like fish!

There are worse things to sing about I suppose.

Along the way, I see a trio getting ready to leave.

Elf 1: Many blessings, young one. We hoped to stay for the celebration, but we must be off.

Kallian: What happened?

Elf: The human who owns are building has decided to sell it for storage space. We can't afford to live anywhere else here, so we're leaving Denerim.

Kallian: I understand. Good luck.

Elf: Many thanks. Again, blessings on your day.

Alienage elves don't even own their own rickety houses.

Elf 1: Well, it's around the eyes, mostly.

Elf 2: I still don't see it. Whenever I look, I just see the mother.

Elf 1: The mother was far more delicate.

Elf 2: It's the same sort of nose, you must admit that. The breeding shows...

Elf 1: There you go again with breeding. We're not horses, you know.

Elf 2: Of course not, but bloodlines are important. That's all I'm saying!

Elf 1: I think the whole notion is ridiculous.

Elf 2: Well. you've got the freedom to think so. You come from good stock.

...This was not a conversation I was expecting when I started up this origin.

Now to go tell lies to children.

Child 1: Huh?

Child 2: Wham! You're dead!

Child 1: No fair. She stopped me!

Kallian: What were you two playing?

Child 1: Heroes and Humans! She made it up.

Child 2: We each choose someone from the elder's stories and do furious battle. I always win!

Child 1: That's 'cause you cheat!

Kallian: Why humans? Why not play as elves?

Child 2: Do you know any stories about elven heroes?

Kallian: Sure, I know a story.

Child 2: You do?

Kallian: Yes. It's about... Tathas, the sneaky elven bandit.

Child 2: Did Tathas steal from the humans?

Kallian: She stole from the rich and gave to the ppor.

Child 1: Did Tathas ever get caught?

Kallian: No. Tathas retired and hid her gold all over the land.

Child 2: Hooray! I'm going to be Tathas!

Child 1: No, me!

Sorry kid, she called it first.

I just told a bunch of lies to children for no reason other than to make them think that there are elf heroes that haven't been erased from the history books. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

After this I talk to a sour woman named Elva (her parents weren't exactly good at giving names).

Elva: So I see you got yourself a big handsome hulk of a husband. Excuse me if I don't congratulate you.

Kallian: Is something wrong?

Elva: Don't act like you care. Your father has the money to get you a great match. Meanwhile, what did I get? A fat, old man who smells like the docks and wouldn't know what to do with a woman even if he was sober.

Kallian: What does that have to do with me?

Elva: You think you're better than me? Well you're not! I may have a poor match, but at least I have some dignity. Wench.

Not enough dignity to avoid insulting people for being better off than you though.

Now to talk to a poor beggar.

Beggar: Ma'am? Spare a coin for a man who was ruined trying to help his family?

Kallian: Tell me your story.

Beggar: I worked on the docks, living day to day, never knowing if my family would go hungry...

The humans always left us the dangerous work in the high beams of the warehouses, or in the water. I was rigged up, cleaning the side of a ship, when it drifted against another and my legs were crushed between.

Kallian: You didn't receive healing?

Beggar: Magical healing? For an elf? (scoffs)

The human foreman hauled me out and dumped me in an alley. My sons didn't find me until day's end. So now I live on the charity of those who don't even have enough for themselves.

Kallian: I would help, but I have nothing.

Beggar: I understand. My blessings to you on your big day then, young one.

The most interesting thing about this is the fact that magical healing is expected to be available for non-elves. I'd have thought that it'd be a lot rarer than that. I'll add that to the front page.

Now to talk to some more well-wishers.

I wonder if I should have used the image where a random NPC walked in front of the camera and blocked out Kallian + Gethon's shoulder.

Dilwyn/old lady: Well, it's the lucky bride herself. Hello, dear.

Gethon/old man: Now, love. She probably doesn't remember us.

Dilwyn: Oh, of course. I'm Dilwyn, and this is Gethon. We were friends of your mother's. We haven't seen much of you since she... well...

Kallian: What can you tell me about my mother.

Dilwyn: Your father still doesn't speak of her, does he? Adaia was beautiful and full of life. And a bit wild.

Gethon: She wanted you more than anything. It's sad she never got to see you all grown up. We just wanted to see you today and express our good wishes.

Kallian: Thank you.

Gethon: We've saved a bit of money for this day. We'd... we'd like you to have it to help start your new life.

Kallian: I can't accept this.

Dilwyn: Please, we want you to have it.

Kallian: Very well. For you.

Gethon: Maker bless you.

I wonder if I'd have been able to give money to that poor beggar if I'd talked to them before him.

With nothing else left, I finally chat with Soris.

He's a dorky looking fellow, I'm not sure what gives that impression though.

Soris: Well, if it isn't my lucky cousin. Care to celebrate the end of our independence together?

Kallian: Is running away still an option?

Soris: Are you insane? Where would you go? Into the woods to live with the Dalish elves?

Kallian: The Dalish elves?

Soris: Remember your father's stories about happy wood elves, living far from humans? Valendrian calls them "Dalish." Hmm. Not that we'd know where to find them. Besides, why would you run? Apparently, your groom's a dream come true. My bride sounds like a dying mouse.

Kallian: I'm sure she's quite nice.

Soris: Great. I'll spend the next fifty years with a "nice" girl who hides grain away for the winter...

Let's go introduce you to your dreamy betrothed before you say "I do".

There's something screwed up about marrying someone who you haven't even met before.

And two more codex entries.

The Dalish Elves said:
I took the road north from Val Royeaux toward Nevarra with a merchant caravan. A scant two days past the Orlesian border, we were beset by bandits. They struck without warning from the cover of the trees, hammering our wagons with arrows, killing most of the caravan guards instantly. The few who survived the arrow storm drew their blades and charged into the trees after our attackers. We heard screams muffled by the forest, and then nothing more of those men.

After a long silence, the bandits appeared. Elves covered in tattoos and dressed in hides, they looted all the supplies and valuables they could carry from the merchants and disappeared back into the trees.

These, I was informed later, were the Dalish, the wild elves who lurk in the wilderness on the fringes of settled lands, preying upon travelers and isolated farmers. These wild elves have reverted to the worship of their false gods and are rumored to practice their own form of magic, rejecting all human society.

—From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

Dalish don't come out of the codex looking good.

Now for the Vhenadahl codex.

Vhenadahl said:
Mostly the old ways are gone. Each generation forgets a little more of the old tongue, a little more of the traditions. And the few things we keep become simple habits, the meaning long since faded.

So it is with the vhenadahl, the tree of the people. Every alienage has one, I'm told. Or they used to. When I was a little girl, my mother told me the tree was a symbol of Arlathan, but not even she knew more. Keeping the vhenadahl is just a habit, now. Many cities have let theirs wither and die, then chopped them up for firewood. No great loss.

--Sarethia, Hahren of the Highever Alienage.

They aren't even good looking trees so I'm not sure why they're a symbol of Arlathan.

Now to talk one last time before setting off the next plot event.

Taeodor: There is the man of the hour. How are you, Soris?

Soris: I'm well. This is my cousin, the bride. The other bride... not my bride!

Taeodor: We've met on occasion. Blessings on the day, both of you.

Kallian: Thank you.

Taeodor: There is something you should know, Soris. My brothers won't be coming. They... left to find the Dalish, you see.

Kallian: You mean the elves who still live in the woods?

Taeodor: Unfortunately, yes. Even Alarith swears that Dalish elves saved him on his way to Denerim. (scoffs) Nonsense.

Kallian: Alarith? The shopkeeper?

Taeodor: Indeed. He told my brothers that, when he was fleeing his homeland, he found the Dalish -- or they found him. I don't really remember.

Soris: Well, I wouldn't worry about it. They were probably just taken in by another old story. Taeodor, it was great seeing you. I'm sure your brothers will show up in a few days, embarrassed and hungry.

Taeodor: I hope so, I should go. Best wishes to you both.

Huh, Dalish are only a legend as far as the city elves are concerned.

Now to trigger the plot.

Here's the sleazebag Vaughan and his two accomplices lords Jonaley (left) and Braden (right).

*Vaughan walks up and grabs a bridesmaid*

Bridesmaid: Let go of me! Stop, please!

Vaughan: It's a party, isn't it? Grab a whore and have a good time. (laughs)

Savour the hunt, boys. Take this little elven wench, here... so young and vulnerable...

Shianni: Touch me and I'll gut you, you pig!

Elf: Please, my lord! We're celebrating weddings, here!

Vaughan: Silence, worm! *slaps him to the ground*

Off in the distance Kallian and Soris are watching.

Soris: I know what you're thinking, but maybe we shouldn't get involved...

Kallian: I won't let these humans abuse us.

Soris: Fine. But let's try to be diplomatic, shall we?

*walk up to Vaughan*

Vaughan: What's this? Another lovely one come to keep me company?

Kallian: Dream on, human.

Vaughan: (scoffs) Do you have any idea who I am?

*Shianni bottles him*

I couldn't get a picture of the moment itself so here's a picture of Vaughan passed out on the ground. Not the best decision on Shianni's part, she should have followed up by taking out the other two.

Braden: Are you insane?! This is Vaughan Urien, the arl of Denerim's son!

Shianni: W-what? Oh, Maker...

Kallian: Maybe his father should've taught him better manners.

Jonaley: You've a lot of nerve, knife-ears. This'll go badly for you.

Shianni is clearly regretting her booze-fuelled decision while the two lords carry Vaughan away.

Shianni: Oh, I really messed up this time.

Soris: It'll be all right. He won't tell anyone an elven woman took him down.

Shianni: I hope so. I should get cleaned up.

Soris: Is everybody else all right?

Valora and Nelaros the bride of Soris and groom for Kallian respectively.

Valora: I think we're just shaken. What was that about?

Soris: (Nervous laughter) Looks like the arl's son started drinking too early. Um, well let's not ruin the day. Uh, this is Valora, my betrothed.

Kallian: Then this handsome man must be Nelaros.

Nelaros: I'm a lucky man to be so warmly welcomed.

Soris: I'm sure the two of you have a lot to discuss.

*walks off with Valora*

Nelaros: Well, here we are... Are you nervous?

Kallian: Not really. You?

Nelaros: I thought I'd stay calm, but finally seeing you has made me... Well, let's just say I'm not calm. (I'm not sure if he's talking about being nervous or having an awkward erection here)

Kallian: How was the trip from Highever?

Nelaros: Uneventful, thankfully. The trade caravan we accompanied had little of value; I think that kept the bandits away.

*Soris walks back before we've even really started talking*

Soris: Come on, Cousin. We should let them get ready.

Valora: We'll see you two in a bit. Don't disappear on us.

Nelaros: Or we'll come find you.

*Valora and Nelaros walk away*

Soris: Don't look now, but we have another problem.

Kallian: Is it Vaughan? Has he returned?

Soris: Another human just walked in. Could be one of Vaughan's or just a random troublemaker. Either way, we need to move him along before someone does something stupid.

Kallian: One human shouldn't cause much trouble.

Soris: I'm more worried about some of our boys. Wine is flowing, and I don't think we want another incident.

Kallian: Right. Let's go talk to him.

Soris: Let's do this quickly.

Interesting that Nelaros (and presumably Valora as well) is from Highever, I suppose arranged marriages from outside the Alienage are how they avoid inbreeding.

Now to go talk to Duncan.

Duncan: Good day. I understand congratulations are in order for your impending wedding.

Kallian: Thanks, but please go. I'd rather avoid any unpleasantness.

Duncan: What manner of unpleasantness might you be referring to?

Kallian: The Alienage just isn't a good place for humans to be.

Duncan: I'm sorry, but I have no intention of leaving.

Kallian: Fine. Maybe we can compromise.

Duncan: She keeps her composure, even when facing an unknown and armed human. A true gift, wouldn't you say, Valendrian?

Valendrian, the Alienage's elder.

Valendrian: I would say the world has far more use of those who know how to stay their blades. It is good to see you again, my old friend. It has been far too long.

Kallian: You know this human, Elder?

Valendrian: May I present Duncan, head of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden.

Kallian: What's a Grey Warden?

Valendrian: They are a great order of warriors, child, sworn to protect our world from the Darkspawn. But my question remains unanswered. Why are you here, Duncan?

Duncan: The worst has happened: a Blight has begun. King Cailan summons the Grey Wardens to Ostagar to fight the darkspawn horde alongside his armies.

Valendrian: Yes... I heard the news. Still, this is an awkward time. There is to be a wedding--two, in fact.

Duncan: So I see. By all means, attend to your ceremonies. My concerns can wait, for now.

Valendrian: Very well. Children, treat Duncan as my guest. And for the Maker's sake, take your places!

Duncan: Please, do not let me interrupt further. We shall speak more later.

With that done, it's time to finish with the wedding.

Valora: Ooh! Soris! There you are, I was afraid you'd run off.

Soris: No, I'm here, with Nelaros's blushing bride in tow!

Nelaros: You look radiant.

Soris: It looks like everyone's ready.

Kallian: Good luck, Soris.

Soris: You too, Cousin. Maybe it won't be so bad after all.

She is clearly not a fan of his obvious cold feet.

Valendrian: Friends and family, today we celebrate not only this joining, but also the bonds of kin and kind. We are a free people, but that was not always so. Andraste, the Maker's prophet, freed us from the bonds of slavery. As our community grows, remember that our strength lies in commitment to tradition and to each other.

Revered Mother Boann: Thank you, Valendrian. Now, let us begin. In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I--

*Vaughan, his lords and guards walk up*

Revered Mother Boann: Milord? This is... an unexpected surprise.

Vaughan: Sorry to interrupt, Mother, but I'm having a party and we're dreadfully short of female guests. (laughs)

Revered Mother Boann: Milord, this is a wedding!

Vaughan: Ha! If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business. But don't pretend this is a proper wedding. Now, we're here for a good time, aren't we boys?

Braden: (laughs) Just a good time with the ladies, that's all.

Jonaley: (laughs)

Vaughan: Let's take those two, the one in the tight dress, and... where's the bitch that bottled me?

Jonaley: Over here, Lord Vaughan!

Shianni: Let me go, you stuffed-shirt son of a--

Vaughan: Oh, I'll enjoy taming her. And see the pretty bride...

Nelaros: Don't worry. I won't let them take you!

Kallian: I won't let them take Shianni!

Vaughan: Ah, yes... such a well-formed little thing.

Nelaros: You villains!

Vaughan: That's quite enough. (laughs) I'm sure we all want to avoid further... un, unpleasantness.

Kallian: Let them go! You have no right!

Vaughan: Oh, we're going to have some fun. (laughs)

*knocks Kallian out*

With that, the two origins diverge a bit, male city elves do a break-in with Soris while female ones have to break out.

Bridesmaid 1: Maker keep us, Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker protect us--

Valora: Stop it! You're driving me insane!

*Kallian wakes up*

Shianni: Oh, thank the Maker you've come to. We were so worried...

Kallian: All right, that human dies.

Shianni: Glad you've still got some fight in you.

Valora: They locked us in here to wait until that... bastard is "ready for us."

Kallian: Chances are we'll be raped, beaten, and killed.

Bridesmaid 1: Maker keep us, Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker protect us--

Shianni: Great! Now this, again.

After this you can talk to the other generic bridesmaid to continue the plot once you get sick of being stuck in a locked room with no features.

Bridesmaid 2: Look, we'll... do what they want, go home, and try to forget this ever happened!

Valora: She's right. It'll be worse if we resist.

Shianni: It'll be worse if we don't!

Bridesmaid 2: Someone's coming!

Kallian: If you see an opportunity, take it.

*several guards walk in*

Guard captain: Hello, wenches-- we're your escorts to Lord Vaughan's little party.

Bridesmaid 1: Stay away from us!

And that would be why they brought spares, in case the guards killed one or two.

Bridesmaid 2: You killed her!

Guard captain: I suppose that's what happens when you try teaching whores some respect. Now, grab the little flower cowering in the corner. Horace and I'll take the homely bride and the drunk. You two, bind the last one. She's the scrapper.

*walks away with the others*

Guard 1: Don't worry' we'll be perfect gentlemen.

Guard 2: Now, you heard the captain. Be a good little wench or you'll end up like your friend, there.

Kallian: Try it. See what parts you lose first.

Guard 1: Ha! Horace was right; She's a scrapper!

Soris: Uh... hello?

Guard 1: Oh, look at this. A little elfling with a stolen sword.

Now the fun begins.

They're quick to lose their courage for a pair of armed guards.

Once they're dead. I loot some daggers from them and live up to the image.

Soris: I... can't believe they killed her! Are you all right? They... didn't hurt you, did they?

Kallian: Nothing rattles me. You know that.

Soris: Thank the maker! Hopefully we can still save the others!

Kallian: Where'd you get the sword.

Soris: that Grey Warden, Duncan, gave Nelaros and me his sword and crossbow, but that's all we have.

Kallian: Nelaros is here?

Soris: Yes, he's the reason we're here. He lost it on those who wanted to "hope for the best," I... didn't know what to do.

Kallian: You're here now. That's what matters.

Soris: Thanks. I couldn't let him go alone. Nelaros is guarding the end of the hall. Let's figure this out with him.

Nelaros is surprisingly brave running into an arl's castle to save people he doesn't know with a weapon he doesn't know how to use.

Cook: What's this? I don't recognise you, elf? Wait... is that blood? You're bandits! Rebels! Outlaws! The guards will make quick work of--(unnngghhh)

Elf servant: You've no idea how long that shem's had it coming.

Kallian: I'm Kallian. This is Soris.

Adwen: I'm Adwen, the cook's assistant. You're one of the girls they brought in, aren't you? They took the others to Lord Vaughan's room. You should hurry. He's not... gentle... with women. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm getting out of here before the storm hits.

Smart man, gets revenge on an abusive cook and most likely gets off scot-free.

Next up I run into some off-duty guards, their reaction is immediate hostility if you have weapons equipped and to ask for another round of drinks if you don't (the weapons go into hammerspace if not equipped I suppose).

Guard 1: All right, I call.

Guard 2: Call.

Guard 3: Too rich for me. You there, elf! I need another drink. Anyone else?

Guard 2: Sure, to celebrate taking all your money. (laughs)

Guard 3: Stop counting and start shuffling.

After this I get them some brandy and rat poison.

Guard 3: What are you waiting for? Get us those drinks! I'll blacken your eye if you don't move your arse.

Kallian: I have your drinks right here.

Guard 3: Why didn't you say so?

Kallian: Would you prefer I pour, or answer?

Guard 3: Don't give me back-talk, knife-ear! Four and get out!

Kallian: *gives brandy spiked with poison*

Guard 3: (ungh) That's a nasty kick right there. Drink up boys; it'll put hair on your chest.

Guard 1: (coughs) Nasty kick, indeed. I feel like-- *dies*

Guard 2: What's in here, you little... rat... *dies*

Soris: Nice work! Now, let's go before anyone comes.

After this I finally reach Nelaros.

Just in time for his tragic death.

Guard captain: See? I told you there'd be more. Elves run in packs, like rodents.

Guard: Should we keep the knife-eared bitch alive?

Guard captain: They killed our boys. She dies.

Kallian: You killed Nelaros!

Guard captain: Ha! He squealed like a stuck pig when he died. Let's see if you do too.

Once the pigs are dead, it is time to mourn the passing of brave Nelaros. If you loot his corpse you can get his wedding ring.

Soris: Nelaros... I'm so sorry.

Kallian: He died to save me.

Soris: Let's make sure it wasn't in vain.

After that there's nothing interesting to see until I get to Vaughan's room.

Thankfully despite the fact that it's pretty heavily implied that we walked in on them in the middle of gang-raping Shianni, we don't see anything.

Vaughan: My, my. What have we here?

Jonaley: Don't worry; we'll make short work of these two.

Vaughan: Quiet, you idiot! They're covered in enough blood to fill a tub. What do you think that means?

Kallian: It means your guards are dead.

Vaughan: All right, let's not bee too hasty here. Surely we can talk this over...

Kallian: You really think you can talk your way out of this?

Shianni: (sobbing) Please, just... get me out of here! I want to go home!

Vaughan: Think for a minute. Kill me, and you ruin more lives than just your own. By dawn, the city will run red with elven blood. Think about it. You know how this ends. Or we could talk this through... now that you have my undivided attention.

Kallian: We'll tell the city what really happened.

Vaughan: You think people care about elven whores? You think my father will ignore my death simply because I used some animals as they were meant to be used?

Kallian: I'm not an animal!

Vaughan: A poor word choice, perhaps, but you understand. You'd risk everything you know on petty revenge?

Kallian: I've come this far. Why turn back now?

Soris: But Cousin, what if he's right? They'll purge the Alienage again!

Kallian: You think they won't as it is? After what we've done?

Soris: If-if you're sure... I'm with you.

Vaughan: Bah! I always regret talking to knife-ears! Now I'll just gut your ignorant carcasses, instead!

For those who don't know, his offer is that if you let him keep the other women and let him live he'll give you the key to a chest with 40 sovereigns inside (for some reason you can't loot it from his corpse) along with not purging the Alienage. It's a lie, if you leave them all to get raped and probably killed he will screw you over by taking back the 40 sovereigns (unless you hide them) along with purging the hell out of the Alienage, also, everyone in the Alienage will rightly hate your guts.

He dies like a dog but I don't get the proper execution animation, still, good riddance to one of the worst people in this game.

Soris: (heavy breathing) He's... he's dead. Tell me we did the right thing, Cousin.

Kallian: What's important is that Shianni's safe.

Soris: I'll... I'll check the back room for the others. Shianni needs you.

Shianni: D-don't leave me alone... please... please, take me home. (sobs)

Kallian: Everything will be all right.

Shianni: So much blood. I... I can't stand to look at it. It's... everywhere. You killed them, didn't you? You killed them all.

Kallian: Like dogs, Shianni.

Shianni: Good. Good...

Valora: Is... she going to be all right?

Kallian: I hope so.

Valora: Shianni's strong. She'll recover.

Soris: Er... we should go. Soon. As in now.

Kallian: Good thought.

Soris: I'll take the rear guard. I can't wait to leave this place.

With that, they're all saved. It's not long before the city guard notices all the corpses however.

Valendrian: You have returned. Has Shianni been hurt? Where is Tormey's daughter, Nola?

Valora: Nola didn't make it. She resisted, and...

Shianni: ...they killed her.

Soris: Nelaros, too. The guards killed him.

Valendrian: I see. Would the rest of you ladies please take Shianni home? She needs rest.

Valora: Of course.

Valendrian: Now tell me: what happened?

Kallian: Vaughan's dead.

Duncan: Then the garrison could already be on their way. You have little time.

Kallian: We may need to leave Denerim for a while.

Valendrian: Ahh, that it has come to this!

Elf: The guards are here!

Valendrian: Don't panic. Let's see what comes of this.

Guard captain 2: I seek Valendrian, elder and administrator of the Alienage!

Valendrian: Here, Captain. I take it you have come in response to today's disruption?

Guard captain 2: Don't play ignorant with me, elder. You will not prevent justice from being done. The arl's son lies dead in a river of blood that runs through the entire palace! I need names, and I need them now!

Kallian: *steps forward* It was my doing.

Guard captain 2: You expect me to believe one woman did all of that?

Valendrian: We are not all so helpless, Captain.

Guard captain 2: You save many by coming forward. I don't envy your fate, but I applaud your courage. This elf will wait in the dungeons until the arl returns. The rest of you, back to your houses!

Duncan: Captain... a word, if you please.

Guard captain 2: What is it, Grey Warden? The situation is well under control, as you can see.

Duncan: Be that as it may, I hereby invoke the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription. I remove this woman into my custody.

Kallian: You can do that?

Guard captain 2: Son of a tied down-- Very well, Grey Warden; I cannot challenge your rights, but I'll ask one thing: Get this elf out of the city. Today.

Duncan: Agreed.

Guard captain 2: Now, I need to get men on the streets before this news hits. Move out!

Duncan: You're with me now. Say your goodbyes, and see me when you're ready. We leave immediately.

Kallian: But what's going to happen here?

Duncan: For the moment they are fine. There are far more important matters arising that endanger more than just your people. I needed a Grey Warden and I found one. That conscripting you saved your life is only circumstance. You did what you had to do to accomplish your mission. We need people like you. Now quickly, say your goodbyes. Your life here is over.

Now all that's left are a few goodbyes.

Soris: Thank you. You really saved my hide back there.

Kallian: I did what was right.

Soris: As you always do. Well, I'd like to follow your example. No more daydreaming. I'm settling down. Valora's a good woman, and she has ideas on making life better for everyone here. Your father had the women take Shianni back to your place. Will you see her before you go?

Kallian: Of course.

Soris: Good luck, Cousin. You've been my hero since we were kids. It's just official, now.

Valendrian: Well, I guess Duncan got his recruit after all.

Kallian: It was not by my choice.

Valendrian: No? Either way, it's out of my hands now. If you'll excuse me, I must tend to our people. Goodbye, young one, and Maker keep you.

This is the last we'll see of Valendrian, unlike in non-City Elf origins he is shipped off to Tevinter by the time the player arrives in the Alienage if you're playing a City Elf. You get to rescue or sacrifice Cyrion instead.

Cyrion: If... this is what the Maker has planned for you, then I guess it's for the best. Your mother would've been pleased.

Kallian: You're not pleased?

Cyrion: I just wish there was another way. I dreamed of grandchildren, family gatherings, and... (sigh) I'm sorry. This isn't helping. Take care, my girl. Be safe. And wise. And... well, you know. We'll all miss you.

Get going before I embarrass us both.

Now to see Shianni.

Valora: There you are... thank you. For me, for Soris, for everything.

Kallian: Don't worry about it.

Valora: If I can ever do anything to repay you, I will. Shianni seems to have regained herself. I'll leave you two alone. Good luck, and thank you again.

Shianni: You took all the responsibility for what happened. You're amazing, you know that?

Kallian: How are you holding up?

Shianni: I'm... all right. As far as the others know, Vaughan just roughed me up a bit. I just don't want them treating me like some fragile doll.

(sigh) I love you, Cousin. Make us proud out there.

Kallian: I love you too, Shianni.

Shianni: Maker watch over you.

And that's all the farewells done, now to talk to Duncan and finish the origin.

Duncan: Are you ready to go?

Kallian: I am.

Duncan: Good. Then we leave for Ostagar immediately.

Wow, that took me nearly 12 hours not counting gameplay. Still, I have enough free time that I should get the Dalish one out within the next week and then you can all vote between the two Dwarf options (and I can decide which one of them I play as an utter bastard).

The Curious Fan · Oct 12, 2015

I just realised that I didn't get a shot of Cyrion. Oh well.

The Curious Fan · Oct 14, 2015

*sighs* Looks like getting distracted for so long killed any hope of discussion in this thread. Still, on to the Dalish origin and an answer to the Dalish lifespan question.

Went with a male since I'd already made the city elf female.

Duncan: You were born amidst the Dalish elves: noble wanderers who refuse to join the society of humans that subjugated their homeland so long ago. The Dalish travel the land in tightly-knit clans, struggling to maintain their half-forgotten lore in a human world that fears and despises them. You spend your time hunting with your clan-mate Tamlen in the forests, and as is sometimes the case, your quarry is not always the local wildlife...

Quite a reversal from how humans and elves interacted in the City Elf origin, and you may notice that the bow Tamlen is wielding doesn't actually have a bowstring, a recurring problem with Dragon Age graphics.

Wherever they're from has a lot of redheads.

Human 1: It's a Dalish!

Tamlen: And you three are somewhere you shouldn't be!

Human 2: Let us pass, elf. You have no right to stop us!

Tamlen: No? We will see about that, won't we?

*Theron arrives*

Tamlen: You're just in time. I found these... humans lurking in the bushes. Bandits, no doubt.

Human 2: We aren't bandits, I swear! Please don't hurt us!

Tamlen: You shemlen are pathetic. It's hard to believe you ever drove us from our homeland.

Human 2: W-we've never done nothing to you Dalish! We didn't even know this forest was yours!

Tamlen: This forest isn't ours, fool. You've stumbled too close to our camp. You shems are like vermin--we can't trust you not to make mischief. What do you say, lethallan? What should we do with them?

Theron: Let's find out what they're doing here.

Tamlen: Does it matter? Hunting or banditry, we'll need to move camp if we let them live.

Human 1: L-look... we didn't come here to cause trouble. We just found a cave...

Human 2: Yes, a cave! With ruins like I've never seen! We thought there might be, uh...

Tamlen: Treasure. So you're more akin to thieves than actual bandits.

Theron: If you've been there, you should have treasure to prove it.

Human 2: I... I have proof! Here... we found this just inside the entrance.

Tamlen: This stone has carvings... Is this elvish? Written elvish?

Human 2: There's more in the ruins! We didn't get very far in, though...

Theron: Why not?

Human 2: There was a demon! It was huge, with black eyes! Thank the Maker we were able to out-run it!

Tamlen: (scoffs) A demon? Where is this cave?

Human 2: Just off to the west, I think. There's a cave in the rock face, and a huge hole just inside.

Tamlen: Well? Do you trust them? Shall we let them go?

Theron: You've frightened them enough. They won't bother us.

Tamlen: Run along then, shems... and don't come back until we Dalish have moved on.

Human 2: Of course! Thank you! Thank you!

Tamlen: Well, shall we see if there's any truth to their story? Their carvings make me curious.

Theron: Shouldn't we inform the keeper?

Tamlen: She might be interested in these carvings, but let's see if there's anything more before we get excited. Besides, we're already here. Now, they said it was to the west...

Tamlen is just like one of those dumb teenagers in a horror movie, he amuses me.

Elven Artifact said:
A small stone statue of a woman with antlers like a halla, with the moon under her right foot, and two hares beside her. The base of the statue is covered in strange writing.

Probably a statue of Ghilan'nain.

Anyways, the Dalish get a few codexes right from the start that you can't get anywhere else because they're bugged, here are two of them now.

The Dalish Elves said:
In time, the human empires will crumble. We have seen it happen countless times. Until then, we wait, we keep to the wild border lands, we raise halla and build aravels and present a moving target to the humans around us. We try to keep hold of the old ways, to relearn what was forgotten.

We call to the ancient gods, although they do not answer and have not heard us since before the fall of Arlathan, so that one day they might remember us: Elgar'nan the Eldest of the Sun and He Who Overthrew His Father, Mythalthe Protector, Fen'Harel the Dread Wolf, Andruil the Huntress, Falon'Din the Friend of the Dead, Dirthamen the Keeper of Secrets, Ghilan'nain the Mother of Halla, June the Master of Crafts, and Sylaise the Hearthkeeper.

We gather every ten years for the Arlathvhen, to retell the ancient stories and keep them alive. For when the human kingdoms are gone, we must be ready to teach the others what it means to be elves.

—Gisharel, keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves

Again, a very different story.

There are places in the Brecilian Forest where the Veil is so thin the difference between awake and dreaming is next to nothing. In one such place, a wood-shaper was born under such unfortunate stars that his mother named him Abelas, which means "sorrow." And he lived up to his name. He could keep no apprentices, and lost his stock of bows in mishap after mishap, until finally he had nothing. The rest of the clan began to fear that his ill luck would harm them, too, and whispered among themselves of casting him out.

Abelas heard them and resolved to change his luck, and so went into the forest alone to seek a suitable tree from which to make bows.

At last he spied a young rowan growing beside a stream. He drew his axe, and the tree cried out in fear, begging to be spared. But Abelas said, "If I do not take your life, mine will surely end." With two strokes he felled the tree. From the tree, he made the finest three bows he had ever crafted. Pleased, Abelas returned to camp and gave his bows to the hunters at once.

By nightfall, however, the camp was in an uproar. The hunters had returned with braces of hares which, when cut open, revealed only worms and sawdust. The elder said it was a sign that the hunters had robbed some spirit of its host, for it is well known that spirits do not go about the waking world on their own, but inhabit another creature's body. The elder worked a charm to banish the spirit back to the Fade, and the clan went to sleep hungry.

The next day, the hunters brought back a doe, and again the beast bled sawdust. Now the clan began to fear the spirit would starve them, and wondered what they had done to deserve it. Abelas came forward then and told of the rowan tree. The Elder considered for a long time before declaring that they must replace what Abelas had taken from the spirit. So he sent the hunters to dig up a rowan sapling, and bring it, living, to the camp.

There the elder ordered the sapling planted, and appealed to the spirit for forgiveness.

There was a terrible sound then, as if the whole forest were crying out in protest. Darkness fell upon the camp, though it was just past midday. And when the darkness passed, a rowan grove, every tree bearing the frozen face of a terrified elf, stood where the camp had been. From then on, it was forbidden in every clan to cut living trees in the Brecilian Forest. The spirits know nothing of forgiveness.

--"The Rowan Grove: A Dalish Tale," from Ferelden: Folklore and History, by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar

The Brecilian Forest is a terrifying place at the best of times, it's a shame that it's kind of dull without the werewolves in-game though.

There's also the Halla codex obtained from finding a dead Halla and a wolf codex.

Halla said:
No creature is more revered by the Dalish than the halla. No other animal has a god of its own. These white stags are much larger than ordinary deer, and the Dalish halla keepers carve their antlers as they grow, making them curve into intricate designs. In ancient times, these stags bore elven knights into combat, but since the fall of the Dales, they are used less as mounts and more to pull the aravels.

They're also apparently extremely smart.

Wolf said:
"It is rather unfair, the reputation that the wolf possesses in Ferelden. For a people that so clearly adore their hounds, Fereldans simultaneously harbor a distrust of wolves that borders on the unreasonable. Unreasonable, that is if one were not familiar with the ancient legends regarding werewolves. There was a time in Ferelden's past when demons inhabited the bodies of wolves in great numbers, causing the wars against werewolves and spreading great fear and panic. The werewolves were slain, but even today the noble wolf is still looked upon with distrust."
--From Legends of Ferelden, by Mother Ailis of Denerim, 9:10 Dragon.

An attack by wolves upon civilized folk happens rarely, often only in times of desperation and even then only when the wolves have the advantage of numbers. This can change during a Blight. When darkspawn rise onto the surface their presence dramatically alters the savage nature of normal beasts.

In Blights past, as the corruption of the darkspawn spread through the wilder areas of Thedas, it would infect the animals found there... and the more powerful of them would survive and be transformed into a more vicious and dangerous beast. A blight wolf is one such example, mad with the pain of its infection, and only through the overriding command of the darkspawn does it still retain some semblance of its pack instincts. Blight wolves are always found in large groups and will tend to overwhelm a single target if they can, using their numbers to their advantage. It is fortunate that these creatures rarely survive their corruption for very long.

The first mention of the war against werewolves in Ferelden's past. Sadly I'm not recalling a codex that really goes into detail about it and it's only referenced in scattered codex entries.

Well this cave entrance doesn't look ominous at all.

As expected, Tamlen is completely unphased by this.

Tamlen: This must be the cave. I don't recall seeing this before, do you?

Theron: No, and I don't think we should go in alone.

Tamlen: There's nobody else here. And I'm not running back for help unless there's something worth making a fuss over. Come on, let's at least see what's there. How dangerous could it be?

Sadly, there is no "smack Tamlen over the head and drag him back to camp" option.

Tamlen: It... looks like the shem was telling the truth. But these ruins look more human than elven.

Interesting, humans were around back then and civilised enough to make large structures underground.

Once I've killed two giant spiders, I find a Saw Sword in the ruins.

A good number of these weapons were brought to Ferelden by Tevinter mercenaries as the spoils of the long war with the Qunari. The craftsmanship is unquestionable.

Now what is this doing in an ancient elven ruin? Especially since according to the wiki it's one of the few places in the game where you can find it (admittedly as a rare drop) other than on the corpses of Tevinter slavers.

Not quite sure which god this is supposed to represent.

I can't think of any good explanation for a Chantry statue being down here other than Bioware recycling the model as a shorthand for the architecture looking like human stuff.

Anyways, the tomb is full of giant spiders and traps until you get to a certain statue.

So this is what Falon'din is supposed to look like.

Tamlen: I can't believe this. You recognise this statue, don't you?

Theron: It's worn, but it looks vaguely familiar...

Tamlen: Back when our people lived in Arlathan, statues like these honoured the Creators. When the shems enslaved us, much of that lore was lost. This looks like human architecture... with a statue of our people. Can these ruins date back to the time of Arlathan?

Theron: It's interesting. So much of our past is lost to us.

Tamlen: I'd never have guessed ancient elves might have lived here! With humans!

After that talk, I trigger an unavoidable trap.

My first encounter with the undead, not all of them are quite so rotten as this.

After this, I talk to Tamlen before interacting with the mirror.

Tamlen: This place makes me nervous.

Theron: How did you know all about the statue?

Tamlen: I saw a picture of it in one of those old books the keeper never lets anyone touch. It was one of the old gods. The keeper called him a "friend of the dead."

Theron: "Friend of the dead?" What does that mean?

Tamlen: He was a guide who took people across the spirit land to their final rest in the Beyond. He wasn't an evil god, not like Fen'Harel--the Great Wolf. It doesn't seem right that a place so... wrong... would be his.

Theron: How could walking corpses be here?

Tamlen: Hahren Paivel once said that in places where many people died, it can become setheneran--a land of waking dreams. The Veil becomes weak and spirits slip into our world. Then they possess corpses and walk around. (shudders)

Theron: You think many elves died here?

Tamlen: There's certainly enough bones... Maybe nobody was left to bury them. Let's press on... I want to know how our people were involved in this.

Theron: You said something about a veil?

Tamlen: I'm no storyteller. All I remember of the hahren's tales is that a veil separates our world from the spirit world. He said that spirits are jealous of us, and always try to steal our souls. They want to be like us so badly they'll even possess our dead, which drives them insane. But for them to enter our world, the Veil must be weak. Is that why this place feels so strange?

Theron: If they show themselves, we'll kill them too.

Tamlen: I doubt it would be that easy. More likely, we'd get possessed too.

Theron: What do you think all this is?

Tamlen: I'm not sure. This looks like a very old human place. Why did they build this? And why would elven artifacts be here? Maybe some of our ancestors lived here, in caves like the dwarves. I'll stick to roaming the land, myself.

Theron: This doesn't feel like anyone's home.

Tamlen: I don't know. I have this odd sensation that we've... disturbed something. Like we just walked into a dragon's lair. Well, whatever it is, it... it won't stop me. A Dalish hunter fears nothing!

If only he'd listened to his instincts.

Now to enter the room for a fight.

This is a Bereskarn, a blight tainted bear, they're a bit bigger in art than in the game though...

After a few stabs in the arse and an execution that is slashing it in the face before stabbing it in the gut as it rears up on it's hind legs, the Bereskarn dies and I explore the chamber before going near the mirror, unfortunately I get too close to the exit and trigger the scene anyway.

I wonder which two gods the statues are supposed to represent.

Tamlen: You aren't going to leave without taking a closer look at the mirror, are you?

Theron: I don't trust it, and neither should you.

Tamlen: It sat here for who knows how many centuries--what could be so dangerous? Don't worry, I won't break it. I wonder what the writing is for? Maybe this isn't--hey, did you see that? I think something moved inside the mirror.

Theron: Get away from it, Tamlen...

Tamlen: Hold on, I just want to know what it is. Don't you see it? There it is again! Can you feel that? I think it knows we're here. I just need to take a closer look...

It's... showing me places. I can see... some kind of city... underground? And... there's a great blackness...

It... it saw me! Help! I can't look away!

*explosion of red lightning engulfs them both*

Even with all we know of Eluvians, I'm still honestly not sure what the hell just happened here, this mirror should link to the Crossroads rather than to either some city underground with the Archdemon or to the Black City.

After this, the scene changes to Duncan looking down on a disoriented Theron who is now outside of the cave.

Duncan: Can you hear me? I am... very sorry.

*now to the Dalish camp*

Fenarel: You're awake! You've the gods own luck, lethallin.

Theron: Where am I? (paraphrased)

Fenarel: You're back at camp. Everyone is worried sick about you. How do you feel?

Theron: Worried. Where is Tamlen?

Fenarel: We don't know. The shem who brought you here saw no sign of him.

Theron: I don't remember anything. I was in a cave, then... nothing.

Fenarel: He was a Grey Warden and appeared out of nowhere with you slung over his shoulder. You were delirious with fever. He said that he found you outside a cave in the forest, unconscious and alone. He left you here and ran off again. The keeper's been using the old magic to heal you.

Theron: Is anyone looking for Tamlen?

Fenarel: Of course! Most of the hunters are off looking for him right now. But the keeper wanted to talk to you as soon as you awoke. Stay here--I'll get her.

Keeper Marethari: I see you are awake, da'len. It is fortunate Duncan found you when he did...

I know not what dark power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult even for my magic to keep you alive.

Theron: What happened to us?

Marethari: I know only that the Grey Warden found you in front of a strange cave, sick and alone. Duncan thought there may have been darkspawn creatures inside the cave. Is that true?

Theron: There were walking corpses and other strange monsters.

Marethari: Walking corpses? Dark magic, but not darkspawn. I know not what the other creatures might have been. What else did you find? What is the last thing you remember?

Theron: A mirror. Tamlen touched it.

Marethari: A mirror? And it caused all this? I have never heard of such a thing in all the lore we have collected.

(sigh) I was hoping for answers when you woke, but there are only more questions. And Tamlen remains missing. He is more important than any lore in these ruins. If he is as sick as you are, his condition is grave. Duncan returned to the cave to search for darkspawn, but we cannot rely on him to look for Tamlen as well. We must go ourselves, and quickly. Do you feel well enough to show us the way, da'len? Without you we will not find it.

Theron: I am up to it, Keeper. I feel fine.

Marethari: I am relieved to hear it. I am ordering the clan to pack the camp so we can go north. Take Merrill with you to the cave. Find Tamlen if you can, but do it swiftly.

Theron: The clan is leaving?

Marethari: If there is any truth to what Duncan said, then darkspawn may show up in these parts soon. We must get away from that horde. But that is not our only concern. Did you encounter any other humans out in the forest?

Theron: Three of them. We drove them off.

Marethari: Although you hurt no one, these humans roused their nearby village against us. As everywhere, our people are not welcome here. We have stayed for too long, and we must move on--quickly.

Theron: You're going to let those shemlen drive us off?

Marethari: Our clan could slaughter their entire village if we cared to... but at the cost of bringing the king's rage down on our heads. These people are simple and have simple fears. This is their land, so we will go peacefully.

Theron: Are you not interested in the ruins and the mirror?

Marethari: I would be lying if I said I was not. But whatever knowledge lies in that cave is not worth our children. I send you back with hopes of finding Tamlen, and that is all.

Theron: Why do you want me to take Merrill?

Marethari: Merrill knows a degree of my magic. Tamlen's chances of surviving the journey back are greater with her help. I also wish for Merrill to see this cave and mirror. She has a sense for these things, and could shed light on the nature of this illness.

Theron: But doesn't Merrill risk getting ill, as well?

Marethari: You recovered, and Merrill will too. Still, be careful... should you come across this strange mirror again, do not touch it.

Theron: Take Merrill to the cave and find Tamlen. I understand.

Marethari: Go quickly, for Tamlen's life hangs in the balance.

Theron: Pray for me, Keeper.

Well that was one long conversation. And yeah, if you kill the three humans the village gets wind of the fact that it was the Dalish (rather than any of the other numerous threats in the Brecilian forest) somehow and is still angry, killing or not killing is just a decision that you define your character with.

This is Fenarel, a friend of Theron's if not as close as Tamlen.

And this is Marethari, a nice and reasonable old lady who just doesn't seem that similar to the Marethari in DAII from what I remember.

Anyways, time for a decisive answer to the Dalish lifespan question from Master Ilen.

This is Master Ilen, the old coot.

Ilen: I'm glad you've recovered. Once we find Tamlen, we can concentrate on the journey northward.

Hunter: Thank you for the bow, Master Ilen. It is light and sturdy... much better than the one I made last year.

Ilen: You are more than welcome. My father made it and used it in battle against the Clayne tribes.

Hunter: I will carry it with honour.

Theron: I would like to hear the story of your father's battle.

Ilen: Then I am proud to tell it. Our clan was one of the first to flee the Dales. When we came to Ferelden, the fiercest of the shemlen were the barbarians known as the Clayne. We didn't wait for them to attack us. Every Dalish clan in Ferelden united to bring battle to them.

Theron: There are more Dalish clans in Ferelden?

Ilen: In Ferelden, in Orlais, wherever there are wild lands the humans cannot hold, we bring our aravels. you met some at the last Gathering. The ensuing battle went well for us. That day, we carved out our reputation of being the deadliest archers. Our arrows won us the right to wander these woods at will. It was this very bow that my father used that day.

Hunter: Thank you for the tale, Master Ilen... and especially for the bow. I will honour its history.

Theron: Why would you relinquish such a relic?

Ilen: We are all the same clan. His hand is as my hand, I have relinquished nothing.

It was my father who first spoke of the Vir Tanadhal--the Three Ways of the Hunter. The first is the Vir Assan--the Way of the Arrow: to reach for our goal, unrelenting. The second is the Vir Borassan--the Way of the Bow: To bend, but not to break. The last is the Vir Adahlen--the Way of the Wood: We are as ancient as the forests, each tree a part of the greater land. All Dalish are united in this: One day we shall have a homeland again.

Well there you have it folks, the Dalish can live for goddamn centuries by staying well away from humans considering that this battle his father participated in happened not long after 2:20, or more than 700 years before this.

I have to wonder though, if their immortality is lost because of the Veil, how is staying away from humans boosting their lifespan up to centuries long?

It also makes the statement about Zathrien being less than three centuries old seem kind of silly though.

Now that I've got the statement I was waiting for, I go talk to Pol, Paivel and Ashalle before doing a codex run.

If it wasn't for the different backstory, I'd have thought he was one of the brothers who went to find the Dalish.

Hunter: Ah, it's good to see you're well! You weren't here when Pol arrived, were you?

Pol: I've heard of you. Everyone is talking about you and the other missing hunter. A Grey Warden brought you back here!

Theron: Do you know about Grey Wardens?

Pol: Only from stories I heard back in the Alienage in Denerim.

Hunter: Pol is a 'flat-ear'. He arrived here a few days ago from the human lands.

Pol: I heard rumours in a nearby human village that a Dalish camp was close, and I hoped to find your hunters in the forest.

Hunter: You were fortunate I didn't shoot you, Pol. I thought you were a shem, and a bandit at that. You're not the first city elf to rejoin his people. I'm sure you'll find life among us more satisfying than with the shems, if no less harsh.

Pol: In the Alienage, we hear terrible stories about the Dalish. They... aren't true, right?

Theron: You've nothing to worry about, Pol.

Pol: Thank you. The clan has been very kind and welcoming. I never expected it to be like this. It was good to meet you. Perhaps I'll get to hunt with you some day.

Theron: Why did you leave the city?

Pol: I got into trouble for stealing. I'm not a thief... we just never really had a choice. Mother was a maid, and I was lucky if I could get work at the docks. You make a living however you can, right? When Mother died, I got drunk, and was caught picking a guard's pocket. They were going to hang me, but I escaped, and... well, here I am.

Theron: You won't have to resort to that anymore.

Pol: I'll do my best to adjust and fit in... I never dreamed you'd be so welcoming. I thought at best you might hide me for a bit. (chuckles) I'm glad I was wrong.

Theron: Do elves from the city learn to fight or shoot a bow?

Pol: Andraste's mercy, no! No one is allowed to walk around with any weapon. Fighting just gets you arrested. And I've never had to leave the city before, much less learn how to hunt.

Theron: I've never seen shemlen city. What's it like?

Pol: You've never been to a city? Surely you've at least visited a town?

Hunter: We occasionally trade with the shemlen in small villages, but only a few in the clan can undertake that task.

Pol: I can't imagine having never seen a city. It's... crowded, with buildings all squeezed together. There are people everywhere, and it always stinks.

Theron: And elves live with the shemlen?

Pol: Only if they're servants. Most of us live in a part of the city called an "alienage," separated from the humans by walls. That's where all the poorest folk live. Laborers, dockhands, and thieves... and that's if you're lucky.

Theron: That hardly sounds like freedom.

Pol: We don't think about it like that. To most folks, that's just how it is.

The lack of weapons must make the periodic purges of the Alienage a lot easier.

And this is the clan's storyteller, Paivel, he's here to provide exposition about how the Dales fell from the Dalish pov and to be a stern parental figure.

Paivel: So you have returned to us, da'len. We are grateful you are whole and well.

Theron: I'm glad to be here, as well, Hahren.

Paivel: So you should be! What were you two thinking, wandering into that cave without first coming to tell the keeper!

Theron: You're right, Hahren. We should've come back here, first.

Paivel: I suppose your youth can be forgiven. Sadly, Tamlen pays the price. Losing you would be a terrible crime, da'len. You belong to more than just yourself. Or do you not remember?

Theron: I'm sorry, Hahren. I'll try harder next time.

Paivel: (sigh) Would you even know the reason behind your efforts? I wonder. Let us tell these children of the fall of the Dales. You can honour me by sharing in the telling.

Theron: Certainly, Hahren.

Paivel: Come, then... help me as I go along.

Children, hear of the fall of the Dales! Hear the tale of what makes you Dalish.

Would you care to begin, da'len?

Theron: Long ago, we were slaves to the humans.

Paivel: Yes, slaves to a terrible empire the humans built on the darkest magic. When it fell, we became free. We built a homeland in the Dales, worshipping the Creators and rebuilding the culture and history we lost in our long years of slavery.

Theron: But the humans wouldn't let us be.

Paivel: They were resentful: because we would not worship their gods, and because we put our people first. Over the years, their nations grey cold towards the Dales. In their eyes, we were blasphemers and cruel tyrants.

Theron: Then the humans declared war on the Dales.

Paivel: And so the Dales fell. They took our lands and dispersed our people, forcing us to live in their cities and abandon our gods. But many of us refused to relinquish our ways. We instead chose to scatter to the winds, wandering the lands.

Theron: We chose wandering the lands rather than the human rule.

Paivel: To survive and preserve our culture, the clans stay apart until the day the Elvhenan have a homeland once more.

Theron: We shall return the old ways to those who have lost them.

Paivel: "We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path."

Theron: "We are the last Elvhenan. Never again shall we submit."

Paivel: Thank you for your forbearance, da'len. You remember both the tale and the Oath of the Dales perfectly. I will let you get back to your tasks. I pray you find Tamlen quickly.

A very onesided tale that brushes the whole "didn't help during the second Blight" thing under the rug.

Of course, the exposition fountain still has more to say so I prod him with questions.

Theron: Did the elves ever live in caves?

Paivel: I've never heard of such a thing. But in the days of ancient Arlathan, we lived free and spread far across the continent. We were as varied as the shemlen, though fewer in number. Perhaps some of us lived in caves then, but all knowledge from that era is lost.

Theron: I would like to hear more about our history.

Paivel: Now that's something I rarely hear. Of course.

Theron: Do no books record our history?

Paivel: When the humans enslaved us, they took away our language, our history, and our immortality. We quickened to the pace of life and retained nothing of ourselves. We were slaves for so long that even when we became free, there was little for us to recover. If books still exist, I do not know of them.

Theron: Why do the shems allow us to exist if they hate us so much?

Paivel: Perhaps they have no choice. Dalish clans are scattered to the winds and rarely gather... which makes us difficult for any organised effort to destroy. And why bother? We have nothing they want... no land, no treasure. And we always move on, allowing no one to grow too angry with us. Some might see this as cowardly, but we are proud. We are the last and we will survive.

Theron: What happened to the elves who didn't join the Dalish?

Paivel: They remain in human cities, forgetting all they once had. We call them "flat-ears"; for they differ little from their shemlen masters. A few may return, but we must accept that they know nothing of the lore or why we keep it.

Theron: Do you think we'll ever find another homeland?

Paivel: We can hope to find a new home one day, where the Dalish and the flat-ears will build a land greater even than Arlathan. We shall teach the flat-ears the lore they lost... and perhaps they will teach us to understand the shemlen at last. That is the only way we shall truly live in peace.

Theron: Tell me about Arlathan.

Paivel: Ah yes, the lost city. Before the shemlen enslaved us, even before they came to this part of the world, our people lived in glorious Arlathan. Legends say that our ancestors were immortal, and we possessed magic the shemlen could only dream of.

Theron: I think that's all. Thank you.

Paivel: Then I'm sure you have much to do, unless you've other questions...

Theron: I should go.

Paivel: Of course. May the gods guide your path, da'len.

At least he's admitting that the Dalish are proud, it's probably a cultural backlash on their part in response to just how downtrodden the city elves are. And he's surprisingly open to the idea of the city elves contributing more than just numbers.

Last of all, Ashalle, our mother figure.

Ashalle: By the Creators, it is so good to see you whole and well. I was so worried!

Theron: Aneth ara, Ashalle. It's good to see you too.

Ashalle: All that time you were ill, the keeper didn't know if you were going to live or die. I've been outside the keeper's tent the whole time. I have never been so relieved as when I heard you would pull through. What happened? Everyone says Tamlen may be dead!

Theron: They may be right.

Ashalle: That's awful. He's been a good friend to you since you were fledglings. You must be more careful. Your mother and father, may they rest in peace, would be horrified to see you take such risks.

Theron: You've never spoken of my parents much, Ashalle.

Ashalle: What happened to them is a sad tale, and it's in the past. Reopening old wounds benefits no one.

Theron: (persuade) Don't we Dalish strive to learn of our past?

Ashalle: True. Perhaps you're old enough to hear this, though it... hardly seems like a good time.

Theron: Is there ever a good time?

Ashalle: Very well. If I do not tell you now, you'll only wonder. Your mother was a hunter--one of the finest. And your father was the keeper before Marethari. He was with us for a very long time. Your mother was from another clan, and her elders did not approve of this match. She and your father had to meet in secret. One day, bandits caught them alone in the forest. Your father was killed, but your mother escaped.

Theron: Humans killed my father?

Ashalle: Yes, but also city elves, too. Those of our kind living with humans do not hold to the old ways. Your mother held to life long enough to give birth to you, but grief wracked her heart. One night, she... she simply walked into the moonlight and never returned.

Theron: I... don't know what to say.

Ashalle: The clan decided not to discuss this around you, lest it poison your heart with sadness.

Theron: No, I understand.

Ashalle: Our people have learned to live with much sorrow, it seemed only right that we not dwell on it. Your mother did leave you a gift, something of your father's for you to have once you were older. Perhaps the time has come...

Theron: You only remember this now?

Ashalle: I was waiting for the right time, until you were grown. But you are grown now, aren't you? Take this key. You'll see some chests behind the storage aravel by the halla pen. One of them was your mother's. Its contents are yours, if you wish.

A sad story, but then what else did I expect when poking into a missing parent backstory?

As it turns out, there's nothing in the chest but a generic clan shield and heirloom necklace.

With those conversations done, I take a break from talking to people (one of the weaknesses of the origins is just how the talking/exposition is dispensed in large clumps rather than spread out).

Now for a codex dump.

Elgar'nan: God of Vengeance said:
Long ago, when time itself was young, the only things in existence were the sun and the land. The sun, curious about the land, bowed his head close to her body, and Elgar'nan was born in the place where they touched. The sun and the land loved Elgar'nan greatly, for he was beautiful and clever. As a gift to Elgar'nan, the land brought forth great birds and beasts of sky and forest, and all manner of wonderful green things. Elgar'nan loved his mother's gifts and praised them highly and walked amongst them often.

The sun, looking down upon the fruitful land, saw the joy that Elgar'nan took in her works and grew jealous. Out of spite, he shone his face full upon all the creatures the earth had created, and burned them all to ashes. The land cracked and split from bitterness and pain, and cried salt tears for the loss of all she had wrought. The pool of tears cried for the land became the ocean, and the cracks in her body the first rivers and streams.

Elgar'nan was furious at what his father had done and vowed vengeance. He lifted himself into the sky and wrestled the sun, determined to defeat him. They fought for an eternity, and eventually the sun grew weak, while Elgar'nan's rage was unabated. Eventually Elgar'nan threw the sun down from the sky and buried him in a deep abyss created by the land's sorrow. With the sun gone, the world was covered in shadow, and all that remained in the sky were the reminders of Elgar'nan's battle with his father—drops of the sun's lifeblood, which twinkled and shimmered in the darkness.

—From The Tale of Elgar'nan and the Sun, as told by Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves

I suppose he let the sun out of that abyss eventually.

Ghilan'nain: Mother of the Halla said:
They say Ghilan'nain was one of the People, in the days before Arlathan, and the chosen of Andruil the Huntress. She was very beautiful—with hair of snowy white—and as graceful as a gazelle. She kept always to Andruil's Ways, and Andruil favored her above all others.

One day, while hunting in the forest, Ghilan'nain came across a hunter she did not know. At his feet lay a hawk, shot through the heart by an arrow. Ghilan'nain was filled with rage, for the hawk—along with the hare—is an animal much beloved of Andruil. Ghilan'nain demanded that the hunter make an offering to Andruil, in exchange for taking the life of one of her creatures. The hunter refused, and Ghilan'nain called upon the goddess to curse him, so that he could never again hunt and kill a living creature.

Ghilan'nain's curse took hold, and the hunter found that he was unable to hunt. His prey would dart out of sight and his arrows would fly astray. His friends and family began to mock him for his impotence, for what use is a hunter who cannot hunt? Ashamed, the hunter swore he would find Ghilan'nain and repay her for what she had done to him.

He found Ghilan'nain while she was out on a hunt with her sisters, and lured her away from them with lies and false words. He told Ghilan'nain that he had learned his lesson and begged her to come with him, so she could teach him to make a proper offering to Andruil. Moved by his plea, Ghilan'nain followed the hunter, and when they were away from all of her sisters, the hunter turned on Ghilan'nain. He blinded her first, and then bound her as one would bind a kill fresh from the hunt. But because he was cursed, the hunter could not kill her. Instead he left her for dead in the forest.

And Ghilan'nain prayed to the gods for help. She prayed to Elgar'nan for vengeance, to Mother Mythal to protect her, but above all she prayed to Andruil. Andruil sent her hares to Ghilan'nain and they chewed through the ropes that bound her, but Ghilan'nain was still wounded and blind, and could not find her way home. So Andruil turned her into a beautiful white deer—the first halla. And Ghilan'nain found her way back to her sisters, and led them to the hunter, who was brought to justice.

And since that day, the halla have guided the People, and have never led us astray, for they listen to the voice of Ghilan'nain.

--From "The Tale of Ghilan'nain," as told by Gisharel, keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves.

At least they got a number of the details right for this one.

June: God of the Craft said:
We dedicate all our crafts to June, for it is he who taught the People to bend the branches of trees to make our bows, and to fashion coverings of furs and ironbark. Without June, would we have the aravel, or the harnesses for our halla?

When the People were young, we wandered the forests without purpose. We drank from streams and ate the berries and nuts that we could find. We did not hunt, for we had no bows. We wore nothing, for we had no knowledge of spinning or needlecraft. We shivered in the cold nights, and went hungry though the winters, when all the world was covered in ice and snow.

Then Sylaise the Hearthkeeper came, and gave us fire and taught us how to feed it with wood. June taught us to fashion bows and arrows and knives, so that we could hunt. We learned to cook the flesh of the creatures we hunted over Sylaise's fire, and we learned to clothe ourselves in their furs and skins. And the People were no longer cold and hungry.

—As told by Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves

Seems decent enough.

Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf said:
There is precious little we know about Fen'Harel, for they say he did not care for our people. Elgar'nan and Mythal created the world as we know it, Andruil taught us the Ways of the Hunter, Sylaise and June gave us fire and crafting, but Fen'Harel kept to himself and plotted the betrayal of all the gods. And after the destruction of Arlathan, when the gods could no longer hear our prayers, it is said that Fen'Harel spent centuries in a far corner of the earth, giggling madly and hugging himself in glee.

The legend says that before the fall of Arlathan, the gods we know and revere fought an endless war with others of their kind. There is not a hahren among us who remembers these others: Only in dreams do we hear whispered the names of Geldauran and Daern'thal and Anaris, for they are the Forgotten Ones, the gods of terror and malice, spite and pestilence. In ancient times, only Fen'Harel could walk without fear among both our gods and the Forgotten Ones, for although he is kin to the gods of the People, the Forgotten Ones knew of his cunning ways, and saw him as one of their own.

And that is how Fen'Harel tricked them. Our gods saw him as a brother, and they trusted him when he said that they must keep to the heavens while he arranged a truce. And the Forgotten Ones trusted him also when he said he would arrange for the defeat of our gods, if only the Forgotten Ones would return to the abyss for a time. They trusted Fen'Harel, and they were all of them betrayed. And Fen'Harel sealed them away so they could never again walk among the People.

—From The Tale of Fen'Harel's Triumph, as told by Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves

I wonder if the Forgotten Ones are actually as evil as this makes them all sound.

The City Elves said:
It is hard to tell our children about those of our people who have decided to live in the shemlen's cities. They ask, "Why would anyone want to be treated like that?" And sometimes I do not know what to say. I do not understand it myself. They were freed, but they have returned to live in the service of their former masters. They are housed like animals in walled sections of the shemlen's cities. They do the meanest of tasks and are rewarded with nothing. Why? I do not know..

We tell the children that the elvhen are strong, that we are a proud people, but they hear of these city elves who choose to toil under the humans' heavy hand. How do we teach them pride when they know there are others who would allow themselves to be trampled into the dust? So we tell them that these city elves are to be pitied, that they have given up on their people, given up their heritage. We tell them that some people are so used to being controlled that, when freed, they know not what to do with themselves. They are weak and afraid--afraid of the unfamiliar, afraid of our life of wandering. Above all, they are afraid even to hope that one day we may have a home of our own.

--Gisharel, keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves.

What do you know, I was right about pride being something that they try and instill in the next generation.

Now for the Arlathan two-parter.

Arlathan: Part One said:
Before the ages were named or numbered, our people were glorious and eternal and never-changing. Like the great oak tree, they were constant in their traditions, strong in their roots, and ever reaching for the sky.

They felt no need to rush when life was endless. They worshiped their gods for months at a time. Decisions came after decades of debate, and an introduction could last for years. From time to time, our ancestors would drift into centuries-long slumber, but this was not death, for we know they wandered the Fade in dreams.

In those ages, our people called all the land Elvhenan, which in the old Elven language means "place of our people." And at the center of the world stood the great city of Arlathan, a place of knowledge and debate, where the best of the ancient elves would go to trade knowledge, greet old friends, and settle disputes that had gone on for millennia.

But while our ancestors were caught up in the forever cycle of ages, drifting through life at what we today would consider an intolerable pace, the world outside the lush forests and ancient trees was changing.

The humans first arrived from Par Vollen to the north. Called shemlen, or "quicklings," by the ancients, the humans were pitiful creatures whose lives blinked by in an instant. When they first met the elves, the humans were brash and warlike, quick to anger and quicker to fight, with no patience for the unhurried pace of elven diplomacy.

But the humans brought worse things than war with them. Our ancestors proved susceptible to human diseases, and for the first time in history, elves died of natural causes. What's more, those elves who spent time bartering and negotiating with humans found themselves aging, tainted by the humans' brash and impatient lives. Many believed that the ancient gods had judged them unworthy of their long lives and cast them down among the quicklings. Our ancestors came to look upon the humans as parasites, which I understand is similar to the way the humans see our people in the cities. The ancient elves immediately moved to close Elvhenan off from the humans, for fear that this quickening effect would crumble the civilization.

—The Fall of Arlathan, as told by Gisharel, keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves

Some backstory for both the elves and the humans who apparently came from another continent.

You ask what happened to Arlathan? Sadly, we do not know. Even those of us who keep the ancient lore have no record of what truly happened. What we have are accounts of the days before the fall, and a fable of the whims of the gods.

The human world was changing even as the elves slept. Clans and tribes gave way to a powerful empire called Tevinter, which—and for what reason we do not know—moved to conquer Elvhenan. When they breached the great city of Arlathan, our people, fearful of disease and loss of immortality, chose to flee rather than fight. With magic, demons, and even dragons at their behest, the Tevinter Imperium marched easily through Arlathan, destroying homes and galleries and amphitheaters that had stood for ages. Our people were corralled as slaves, and human contact quickened their veins until every captured elf turned mortal. The elves called to their ancient gods, but there was no answer.

As to why the gods didn't answer, our people left only a legend. They say that Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf and Lord of Tricksters, approached the ancient gods of good and evil and proposed a truce. The gods of good would remove themselves to heaven, and the lords of evil would exile themselves to the abyss, neither group ever again to enter the other's lands. But the gods did not know that Fen'Harel had planned to betray them, and by the time they realized the Dread Wolf's treachery, they were sealed in their respective realms, never again to interact with the mortal world. It is a fable, to be sure, but those elves who travel the Beyond claim that Fen'Harel still roams the world of dreams, keeping watch over the gods lest they escape from their prisons.

Whatever the case, Arlathan had fallen to the very humans our people had once considered mere pests. It is said that the Tevinter magisters used their great destructive power to force the very ground to swallow Arlathan whole, destroying eons of collected knowledge, culture, and art. The whole of elven lore left only to memory.

—The Fall of Arlathan, as told by Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves

As of Inquisition at least 50% of this story is bullshit.

And with that, I'm done with the codex entries for this origin. Now to talk to Fenarel and Merrill and head out.

Fenarel: Is the keeper sending you back to that cave to look for Tamlen?

Theron: Yes, I'm going with Merrill.

Fenarel: I want to go with you. Keeper Marethari probably won't approve, but I can help find Tamlen.

Theron: I'm only supposed to take Merrill.

Fenarel: Tamlen's my friend too! I want to help find him! If Merrill can risk it, so can I.

Theron: I suppose I won't stop you, then.

Fenarel: Good. I'll follow you, just to make sure Merrill doesn't go running for the keeper when you tell her I'm coming.

Now to go bullshit Merrill (not that that's difficult).

Like pretty much every character, she looks very different to how she looked in Dragon Age 2.

The Curious Fan · Oct 14, 2015

Merrill: The Keeper told me I'm to accompany you back to those caves. As her apprentice, I may see something you missed. But our main objective is to find Tamlen, of course. We must make haste; he may not have much time.

Theron: Fenarel is coming with us. Any objections?

Merrill: That depends on the keeper. I thought we're supposed to go alone.

Theron: (persuade/lie) I did ask. She's fine with it.

Merrill: She is? I suppose I needn't worry about it, then. Are you ready?

Theron: Aren't you worried about getting sick?

Merrill: A little, but the keeper cured you. How dangerous could it be? Even if I did get sick, finding Tamlen--or something valuable--will be worth it.

Theron: How much did the keeper tell you?

Merrill: Enough to pique my interest... and my concern. You can explain the rest on the way.

Theron: Let's go.

Merrill: Then let us make haste before daylight lasts.

Meet the Genlocks, the smallest of the Darkspawn. They pretty much just look like Orcs so this forced Bioware to change their looks into being gorillas but for now they look like this.

After fighting them, there's another brief conversation.

Merrill: What were those things? Were those darkspawn?

Theron: You're asking me?

Merrill: I've never seen anything like them! You can smell the evil on them. Where did they come from? Were they here before.

Theron: Maybe the mirror has something to do with it.

Merrill: What would darkspawn have to do with our people? The stories say Arlathan fell long before the darkspawn appeared. Well, we'll find out soon enough. Let's hope we don't find any more of those monsters.

Before we go, are you all right? Were you hurt during the fight?

Fenarel: You... do look quite pale, now that Merrill's mentioned it.

Theron: What are you implying?

Merrill: Nothing... forget I said anything. Let's go.

You may note that Fenarel barely said anything in that, since he's an optional companion it seems Bioware decided not to give him many lines.

Before I get much further, I find a new campsite.

Merrill: I wonder whose camp this is. Do you remember it being here?

Theron: No, this wasn't here. It's fresh.

Merrill: The Grey Warden said he was returning to the cave. Perhaps this is his camp. If so, he's not here now. And we've seen no sign of Tamlen. Maybe we should...

Wait... Do you hear that?

Theron: No forest creatures. It's too quiet.

Merrill: Exactly. The forest is too... still. Something's in the air... something unnatural.

Theron: Tamlen said he felt the same thing in the cave.

Merrill: And now it's affecting the forest? Maybe that mirror unleashed some kind of sickness. That would not be good.

Fenarel: That's an understatement.

Merrill: The sooner we find this cave, and Tamlen, the sooner we can leave. Take us there quickly.

And this is what stealth is like in the game, you go invisible (and move slower) so you can get past enemies and perform a surprise attack. With the genlocks dead, I get to the ruins again.

Merrill: So these are the ruins? Interesting. They're definitely of human origin. Yet elven artifacts are scattered amongst them. Nothing explains the monsters, though. But we must find Tamlen--or what's left of him. I can't imagine he's still alive with those creatures about.

Theron: You're probably right.

Merrill: Still, even if he's here somewhere... we need to find his body. Let's just pray we're wrong.

Mysteriously, corpses are sprinkled throughout the level ahead of you to make first-time players wonder who is waiting for them in the ruins.

My favourite dual daggers execute animation, just stab them in the gut and cut their heads off with the other dagger.

Interesting that there's at least one floor that we don't get to see.

I suspect that these coffins were for elves in Uthenera.

And further in, I find a different "final boss" for the tutorial.

The Genlock Emissary. A Darkspawn that hangs back and casts spells at enemies. They're called Emissaries due to the fact that they're supposed to be the only Darkspawn with (limited) communication abilities. And note the spikes, the Darkspawn deliberately make their armour to intimidate.

With that done, I run into Duncan for a second time standing before the mirror.

Duncan: So you were the one fighting darkspawn. I thought I heard combat. You're the elf I found wandering the forest, aren't you? I'm surprised you have recovered.

Theron: If you heard the fighting, why didn't you help?

Duncan: I would have, had I not been battling them myself. Not all the kills here were yours, as you can see. My name is Duncan, and it's a pleasure to finally meet you. The last time we spoke, you were barely conscious.

Merrill: Andaran atish'an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens. I am Merrill, the keeper's apprentice.

Fenarel: And I am Fenarel. Did you... come here alone, human? Battling all those creatures?

Duncan: Yes. Though I must admit, you took a great deal of pressure off me. Your keeper did not send you after me, did she? I told her I would be in no danger.

Theron: No, though we knew you'd be here.

Duncan: So you and your friend Tamlen both entered this cave? And you saw this mirror?

Theron: Was that bear we saw a darkspawn?

Duncan: Perhaps. The mirror draws darkspawn to it. The Grey Wardens have seen artifacts like this mirror before; it is Tevinter in origin, used for communications. Over time some of them simply... break. They become filled with the same taint as the darkspawn. Tamlen's touch must have released it...

It's what made you sick--and Tamlen, too, I presume.

Theron: Can we fix it?

Duncan: Unfortunately, no. It will taint all those who come near it, now.

Merrill: I do not fear this sickness. The keeper knows how to cure it.

Duncan: She may have weakened it, but she cannot cure it. Your recovery is only temporary. I can sense the sickness in you, and it is spreading. Look inside yourself and you will see.

Theron: Then what should I do?

Duncan: First, we deal with the mirror. It is a pestilence and a threat.

*smashes mirror*

It is done. Now, let's leave this cursed place. I must speak with the keeper immediately regarding your cure.

Theron: Can we just leave the cave like this? Is it safe?

Duncan: With the mirror destroyed, I doubt the darkspawn will return.

Merrill: Can we return later and search through the ruins? We could learn from many things here besides the mirror.

Duncan: The cave is not safe-- everything here was exposed to the mirror's taint. If your people must come here, they should cleanse it with flame.

Theron: What about Tamlen?

Duncan: There is nothing we can do.

Theron: So he's dead, then? Are you sure?

Duncan: Let me be very clear: There is nothing you can do for him. He's been tainted for three days now, unaided. Through your keeper's healing arts and your own willpower, you did not die. But Tamlen has no chance. Trust me when I say that he is gone. Now, we should return.

Theron: Won't there at least be a body?

Duncan: The darkspawn would have taken it.

Fenarel: Why would they take his body? Not to... eat it, I hope...

Duncan: Darkspawn are evil creatures, and it's best to leave it at that. I'm... sorry.

Theron: Very well. Let's go back to camp.

Duncan: I sense no other darkspawn nearby, so it's safe. Lead on.

With that done, it's time for the conclusion of this origin.

Marethari: I'm relieved you have returned! And I did not expect to see you again so soon, Duncan.

Duncan: I was not expecting to return so soon either, Keeper.

Marethari: Dare I ask of Tamlen? What did you find of him.

Theron: If he was alive, the darkspawn would've killed him.

Marethari: There... there were darkspawn in the cave?

Duncan: There is much to discuss, Keeper. I have learned a great deal since I was last here.

Marethari: Let us speak privately within my aravel then, Duncan.

Merrill, warn the hunters. If darkspawn are about, I want the clan prepared.

Merrill: Ma nuvenin, Keeper. Right away.

Marethari: Da'len, allow me some time to speak with Duncan. Seek us out at my aravel later, and we can discuss your cure.

Theron: Very well, Keeper.

Marethari: Tell Hahren Paivel what has occurred. He now has the sad task of preparing a service for the dead.

Follow me, Duncan. I am eager to hear what you have to say.

*Marethari and Duncan walk off leaving Fenarel and Theron alone*

Fenarel: I wish we could have found Tamlen. If those creatures... oh, I can't bear to think about that. Why do you think the Grey Warden won't tell you about this cure? It seems rather cruel to withhold it.

Theron: It must be something terrible.

Fenarel: Keeper Marethari won't let him withhold it. I say we get your cure, move the clan north, and put this all behind us.

One last codex for the road, the aravel codex.

Aravels said:
We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last elvhen. Never again shall we submit. --The Oath of the Dales
Someone once told me that humans flee when they see the sails of our aravels flying above the tops of trees. I say, good, let them flee. The humans took everything from us--our homeland, our freedom, our immortality. What's a little fear compared to all the horrors inflicted upon us? I recite the Oath of the Dales to myself each day when I sleep and when I wake: "Never again shall we submit." Never again.
The keeper says that one day the Dalish will find a home that we can call our own. But why? Why should we tie ourselves to stone constructions like the humans and the dwarves? What is wrong with the life we have now? We owe nothing to anyone, we have no master but ourselves, and we go where the halla and the gods take us. There is nothing more wonderful than sitting on an aravel as it flies through the forest, pulled by our halla. We are truly free, for the first time in our people's history. Why should we change this?

--From the journal of Taniel, clan hunter.

Someone doesn't understand the value of having a concrete place to call home rather than needing to flee all the time.

Now to talk to Paivel.

Paivel: So you return with the Grey Warden, but without Tamlen. What happened, da'len? Is he truly lost to us?

Theron: Yes, Hahren. He is dead.

Paivel: So... another of our children has perished. To think I'd live to see this...

It seems the will of the Creators that I sing the dirge for those I held in my arms as babes. I think I know why our immortal ancestors would sleep.

Swiftly do stars burn a path across the sky, hast'ning to place one last kiss on your eye. Tenderly land enfolds you in slumber, softening the rolling thunder. Dagger now sheathed, bow no longer tense. During this, your last hour, only silence.

Theron: The keeper wants me to tell you to perform a service.

Paivel: Of course. We've no body to return to the soil, but we shall still sing for Tamlen. The Creators must come to guide him to the Beyond. Tell the keeper it shall be done before the clan is ready to move on.

Theron: Thank you, Hahren.

Paivel: I ask only one thing, if I may. This... Grey Warden. You have met him now, yes? Is he a good man?

Theron: He saved my life, and is a friend to the clan.

Paivel: Interesting. What is it he talks to the keeper about, I wonder? Perhaps you should go and ask.

Theron: I should go.

Paivel: Of course. May the gods guide your path, da'len.

I get the feeling that their tendency to bury their dead combined with hanging around in places with thin veils means that the Dalish are responsible for a lot of the undead problems in various parts of the world.

Now for the final conversation with Duncan.

Duncan: Your keeper and I have spoken, and we've come to an agreement that concerns you. My order is in need of help. You are in need of a cure. When I leave, I hope you will join me. You would make an excellent Grey Warden.

Theron: What does this have to do with my cure?

Duncan: Everything, I'm afraid. The darkspawn taint courses through your veins. That you recovered at all is remarkable. But eventually, the taint will sicken and kill you, or worse. The Grey Wardens can prevent that, but it means joining us.

Theron: Can't you just give me the cure?

Duncan: The cure is only found by joining the Grey Wardens. As sole protectors against the darkspawn, we're granted some... immunity to the taint. But this is not charity. We enlist only the worthy, and you have certainly proven yourself. Should you join, it's unlikely you'll ever be able to return here.

Theron: I am honoured by your offer.

Marethari: A great army of darkspawn gathers in the south. A new Blight threatens the land. We cannot outrun this storm. Long ago, the Dalish agreed to aid the Grey Wardens against a Blight, should that day arrive. We must honour that agreement. It breaks my heart to send you away. As it would to watch you die slowly from this sickness. This is your duty, and your salvation.

Theron: If this is my duty, then I will go.

Duncan: I welcome you to the order. It is rare to have a Dalish amongst us, but they have always served with distinction.

Marethari: I know you'll do your clan proud, da'len. Take this ring. It is your heritage and will protect you against the darkness to come.

Duncan: A valuable gift. So... are you ready to go?

Theron: Can I say goodbye to my clan, at least?

Duncan: Of course. Say your farewells, then let us be off. We have much ground to cover.

Marethari: Come then, da'len. Before the Creators guide you from us, let your clan embrace you one last time.

*sadly walks past everybody without a word*

And that is the Dalish origin done, it contained a lot more interesting and unexplained things than I remembered it containing.

Now, to vote on which origin I do next, will I go with the Dwarf Noble origin or the Dwarf Commoner origin first? Whichever one I go with first is the arsehole run.

[ ] Dwarf Noble.
[ ] Dwarf Commoner.

Tekomandor · Oct 14, 2015

The Dalish origin is hilariously sad after having played DAI. Dragon Age is really at it's Dark Fantasy-est if you play an elf.

And [x] Dwarf Commoner, since I've never played it.

Namer · Oct 14, 2015

[X] Dwarf Noble.

If nothing else, it should provide a lot of political commentary

The Dwarf Commoner and Noble origins are more closely linked than any two other of the origins, I think.

Broken25 · Oct 14, 2015

[X] Dwarf Noble.

The Curious Fan · Oct 14, 2015

Namer said:
The Dwarf Commoner and Noble origins are more closely linked than any two other of the origins, I think.

The Dwarf Noble origin is set a week after the Dwarf Commoner origin IIRC.

StormLord · Oct 15, 2015

@The Curious Fan
It's really amazing to see the amount of detail you're putting into this LP, especially all of the Codex info. I'm usually a sucker for reading through all the in-game lore stuff, but even just reading it through your posts is rather intimidating. So, kudos!

[x] Dwarf Commoner

to preserve continuity!

The Curious Fan · Oct 15, 2015

StormLord said:
It's really amazing to see the amount of detail you're putting into this LP, especially all of the Codex info. I'm usually a sucker for reading through all the in-game lore stuff, but even just reading it through your posts is rather intimidating. So, kudos!

These are the origins, a.k.a the game's exposition dumps, the amount of codexes and exposition will drop sharply after this.

Anyways, I need a final vote to break the tie. Will we follow continuity or skip straight ahead to Dwarf noble politics?

Silvrose · Oct 15, 2015

[x] Dwarf Commoner

For continuity!

The Curious Fan · Oct 15, 2015

Dwarf Commoner it is then.

The Curious Fan · Oct 19, 2015

Time to start the Dwarf origin, sadly, the Dwarves of Dragon Age aren't popular with the fanbase despite their interesting culture of (well, interesting to me at least) being an utterly stagnant faction that makes a good go of seeming honourable on the surface but is actually utterly treacherous underneath and divided by a harsh caste system. I kind of wonder how different things would be for them if Kal-Hirol had gotten their barrier door running in time and survived to the present day.

Anyways, this origin focuses on the lowest of the low in Dwarven society, the Casteless.

Note that her brand also goes over her eye. Ouch.

Duncan: Deep beneath the Frostback Mountains sits Orzammar, largest and proudest of the two remaining dwarven cities. Once the seat of an underground empire, Orzammar now stands alone, cut off from the world by the darkspawn, still clinging to the memory of its former glory. Below the vast statues and gilded halls where the noble families play at politics, the lower castes live in their shadows, scurrying to serve like their ancestors before them. Below that... is you. You are casteless, the dirty secret staining Orzammar's perfect society, forced, along with your sister, to sell your services to the crime lord, Beraht. To the rest of Orzammar, you are proof that the casteless deserve their fate; but you know you do what you have to--the same as everyone--to survive.

Dust Town in all it's sodding glory.

Beraht: I can't keep gambling on you forever, precious. You got a sweet look, something to light a man on fire. But you got to make it count.

Rica: Please, Beraht. I don't want to do this in front of my sister--

Beraht: Why not? She knows the slope of the land, don't you, girl?

Beraht, the leader of the Carta.

Rica, Natia's sister.

Natia: We owe you everything, Beraht. We won't let you down.

Beraht: Right. That's sweet. Before me, your sister was just another duster. Now check her out! Braids down to here, gold-capped teeth. She can recite elf-poetry and play the string-harp. Every man's dream! All she's gotta do is find a lord, squeeze out some kid who looks like him, and we're all living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter.

Rica: He's right. Whatever it takes to get out of this cesspool.

Beraht: Listen to the kid. She knows the deal you made. She keeps her head down and does whatever jobs I don't want to dirty my fists with. In return, I put out coin so you can doll yourself up and get a bellyful of some nobleman's brat. Then you both go free. And I get to join the family and be called, "my lord," for the rest of the little prince's life.

Natia: So what are you doing here?

Beraht: Checking on my investments. And right now, they don't bear much gold. I'm giving you another week, precious. If you haven't found a patron, you're back to sweeping streets.

Rica: But... I have. I've met someone... That is, I didn't want to promise, but he seemed interested.

Natia: See, she's found someone. I told you we'd deliver.

Rica: It's nothing definite, but he... he said he wanted to see me again.

Beraht: Excuse me if I don't start knitting booties. Until I do, you're the one who's going to keep paying her debts with your service to the carta.

Natia: What do you need me to do?

Beraht: Your buddy Leske's waiting outside. He knows what I'll need from you today. Don't even think about bungling this job. Your whole family's on loose sand with me right now. And I know you don't have anywhere else to turn.

*walks off*

Rica: I'm sorry you had to see that.

Natia: I've seen it before, and I'll see it again.

Rica: And I feel like every time you do, it kills something in you. You were such a loving child; I hate what this place made you into. That's why I didn't tell you. Beraht's been warning me ever since two of his other girls found patrons at Lord Harrowmont's reception. They've been getting gifts already. Lord Rousten gave Elsye a surface-silk gown and she's not even pregnant. Beraht's getting impatient.

Natia: I just wish we didn't have to kiss up to that cave tick.

Rica: You know the other options. Cleaning middens... begging... going to the surface. No, unless you find a way to save us all from darkspawn and become a Paragon, we're pretty much on Beraht's leash for life.

Natia: I don't know why I can't join the army and fight darkspawn.

Rica: It's sheer folly, one more way the nobles protect their status. They say casteless are more danger to each other than to darkspawn... that it's an insult to the smith to let us touch a fine-made weapon. Truly, they just don't wish to insult the Warrior Caste by showing that given the same opportunities, we could lead an army just as well.

Natia: But haven't the darkspawn almost overrun the current troops?

Rica: Every year, more of the beasts come up from the Deep Roads. I've heard they've even been harrying the surface.

Natia: Is anyone doing anything about it?

Rica: Aye. They would even turn to humans for aid before us, it seems. There's been talk of an alliance against the darkspawn, even that the Grey Wardens have stepped up. But we don't have time for this now. Leske must be waiting, and Beraht won't like it if I'm late for my appointment.

Natia: Beraht expects too much from you.

Rica: You know how desperate the nobles are for more children. They can barely field enough soldiers to hold the walls against the darkspawn. If I could... give one of them a son, the whole house would celebrate. And we'd all be raised up to noble caste to join the family.

(sigh) It's what Beraht's betting on. That's why he paid for my clothes, my voice lessons. He wants to share the reward.

Natia: Did you say there was a noble who was interested.

Rica: Yes. That is, I hope. He certainly seems... charming. He treats me like a real lady, not just someone to tumble and forget.

Natia: Who is he?

Rica: I-I don't want to say... in case I'm wrong. It just seems too mad to think of one of the most important men in Orzammar with... someone like me. Anyway, time is rusting, and I need to get dressed. These fashions will be the death of me--a hundred buttons on each sleeve!

(sigh) And Leske's probably already outside waiting for you.

Natia: You're right. Goodbye.

Rica: Stay out of trouble. I'll see you tonight.

And that's our first introduction to Orzammar's tradition of noble hunting and to the Carta. As for who she's with, we'll find out next origin.

The caste system in Orzammar includes many groups of privilege--the nobility and the warriors above all others, but to a lesser degree the merchants and the smiths and the miners. Tradition establishes a clear hierarchy. But as in any culture with an upper class, there is also a clear underclass. These unfortunates, the so-called "casteless," are believed to be descendants of criminals and other undesirables. They have been looked down upon since Orzammar's foundation. They have taken up residence in a place called "Dust Town," a crumbling ruin on the fringe of Orzammar's common areas.

Orzammar society considers these casteless lower than even the Servant Caste (indeed, the casteless are not allowed to become servants, as it is too honorable a position). They are seen as little better than animals, their faces branded at birth to mark them as the bastard children of the kingdom. Their home district, little more than a slum, is a haven for crime, organized and otherwise. Orzammar's guards seemingly cannot be bothered to patrol its streets. The best that most casteless dwarves can hope for is a life at the whim of a local crime lord, ended abruptly by violence or an overabundance of toxic lichen ale.

Even so, there is some hope for the casteless, a dangling rope that offers a way up into greater Orzammar society. Since a dwarf's caste is determined by the parent of the same sex, the male child of a nobleman is part of that noble's house and caste. Strangely, it is acceptable for casteless women to train in the arts of courtly romance to woo nobles and warriors; they are known as "noble hunters." Any male born from such a union is considered a joyous event, considering the low rate of dwarven fertility. The mother and entire family are then taken in by the father's house, although they retain their caste.

The dwarves we know on the surface are also considered casteless once they leave Orzammar, although this is only relevant to those who return--if they are allowed to return at all. Dwarves who leave for the surface (the "sun-touched," as they're often called behind their backs) lose their connection to the Stone and the favor of the ancestors, and thus are worthy of little more than pity, for upon dying they are said to be lost to the Stone forever. Put that way, it seems a sad existence indeed.

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

The situation of the casteless is utterly fucked and thanks to superstition most of them don't take the smart option and head to the surface for a better life. And Dwarves have fertility problems, I wonder how many of those are inherent and how many are a result of exposure to the darkspawn taint.

Before I head out, there's just one more person to talk to.

Their mother, Kalah.

Kalah: (groan) Whozzat? Why are you bothering me? Rica?

Natia: No Mother, it's Natia. Your daughter?

Kalah: Don't you talk to me like I'm an idiot! You think I don't know my own kid? What're you doing here, anyway? Rica said you were finally making something useful of yourself.

Natia: Doesn't it bother you that Rica has to whore herself out?

Kalah: She's got the body. Might as well use it before a couple of kids twist it out of shape.

Natia: I'm getting Rica out of here just to spite you!

Kalah: Take her! You think I need you here? You think I need anyone?

Life as a casteless made an alcoholic out of her.

With that awkward parental meeting done, time to talk to Leske.

Leske the lovable rogue.

Leske: About sodding time. I was starting to think I'd have to bust in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga-row!

Natia: So, what does Beraht have for us?

Leske: Boss says we're out for a search-and-discipline. One of his smugglers is holding out on him. Name's Oskias. Some surfacer. Beraht got word that he's been selling shipments topside that never make it to Beraht's ears down here. He wants us to find the rotter and see what goods he's holding back.

Natia: Any idea where this Oskias is?

Leske: All he told me is "Find him." Duster's got some family from the Merchant Caste. He's probably staying near their quarters.

Natia: What sort of goods are we trying to find?

Leske: You know, gold, lyrium, spices... Anything that Beraht might cut someone's head off to get.

Natia: What do we do with him if he has been holding out on Beraht?

Leske: Well, if he is skimming, we kill him, of course. I mean, Beraht doesn't let anyone swindle him and live. Bringing his head on a plate is completely optional, though.

Natia: Let's show this duster what Beraht does to cheaters.

Leske: Poetry to my ears, salroka.

The people of dust town have a few interesting things to say as I talk to them and walk by.

I like this guy.

The first hint about how Bhelen will treat the casteless.

The beggar that will let you know where Oskias is if you're too busy to search.

Beggar: Two bits for the needy?

Natia: The needy? Who do you think you're looking at, old man?

Beggar: I seen you before. You're one of Beraht's girls. The one with the sword. You don't know from needy. Not until you're my age.

Natia: What happened to you?

Beggar: I used to work in the mines, checking the new tunnels for bad air. Sent me down with a candle, and there must've been a pocket of gas, cause it went up like dragon's breath. Healer saved my life, but I can't half walk. What's a man supposed to do?

Natia: Is there any way I can help?

Beggar: You got some spare feet? If not, a silver'd fill that void real nice.

Natia: Is there anything you can give me for my money?

Beggar: Oooh. You drive a hard bargain, soldier. You looking for someone to shine your shoes? Clean your pots? Keep you warm at night?

Katia: Just tell me, have you seen a surfacer named Oskias?

Beggar: Is that what you're looking for? That's worth ten bits, no?

Katia: (intimidate) Tell me, or your body might end up blocking a mine shaft.

Beggar: Go ahead. Beat up an old man, if it makes you feel better. I saw your man at Tapsters. I was waiting out back, but they wouldn't tip me the dregs off the ale barrel. Said it was going to compost. But I saw another brand there with his surface money, and they served him. Called him "Oskias, suh." Fah!

Katia: Was he armed?

Beggar: You think I got that close? Tavern keepers, they know all I have to pay with is dirt. Now get out of here. You're scaring off the other pockets.

If this was a nicer playthrough I'd complain about them putting the guy who needs money closer to the start than any source of income so you have to intimidate him.

The dwarves are lauded for their craftsmanship, and the city of Orzammar is one of their finest works. Orzammar lies at the heart of the Frostback Mountains, deep underground. The city arcs outward from the royal palace, which is built around a natural lava vent, continually fountaining liquid rock, which both lights and heats the entire cavern.

The topmost tier of Orzammar is home to the noble caste, with their palaces fanning out in both directions from the court of the king, as well as the Shaperate, which serves as a repository for all dwarven knowledge.

The lower tier is the Commons, where the merchant caste holds sway and where the finest works of Orzammar's craftsman are for sale. In the center of the river of lava, connected to the Commons by a causeway, are the Proving Grounds, a sacred arena where the dwarves, by ancient tradition, settle their disputes.

On one side of the fiery river are the ruins of old dwarven palaces, fallen into disrepair, which the locals call Dust Town, now home to the city's casteless. On the other side of the river are the Deep Roads, which once joined the sprawling dwarven empire together, but now, after centuries of darkspawn incursions, are largely sealed off. Nearly all knowledge of this network of underground passages has been lost, even to its builders.

--From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

Yes, Orzammar is built on a lava vent and even has lava fountains, no, I don't know how this hasn't killed them yet.

With that, I head up into the Commons.

I'm shamelessly taking this from the wiki because I really like the picture.

Once I'm up there, I hear a pair of servants talking.

Servant 1: Have you heard? King's got a team who found traces of Branka in the Deep Roads.

Servant 2: Oh? Found her body, did they?

Servant 1: No, tools... signs of a camp, things like that.

Servant 2: Paragon or not, Branka's dead. She's been gone for two years. No one survives the Deeps for that long.

And some foreshadowing about Branka.

Now to chat up the merchants for some money.

Olinda: Leske! You old scamp, what're you doing here? Trying to charm me out of another set of ribbons for your girl?

Leske: Trying to talk you into being my girl, Olinda. You know my heart's breaking for you.

Olinda: Don't you go saying that around my husband! Who's your friend?

Natia: I'm Natia. Pleased to meet you.

Olinda: You're welcome to look around. I'll slide on the mark-up since you're Leske's friend, but I can't give anything away for free. Just don't touch anything if you can't meet the price.

What do you know, not everyone hates the casteless.

Now onto the next merchant.

Ademaro: Do you mind? I have nothing you can afford, and as long as you're here, no one else will come.

Natia: You're a merchant. Why do you wear a casteless face-brand?

Ademaro: Same as you, it's illegal for me to walk here without one. I'm from the surface, so by the law of Assembly, I'm casteless. But I think of the brand as just part of the license to vend my wares. I use a washable ink and when I return home, it's gone first thing. I cannot imagine wanting to wear the beastly thing every day.

Natia: You think I choose to live like this?

Ademaro: You certainly don't choose to live any other way. If you were on the surface, you could open a shop, claim land and start a farm, and get legally married by the human Chantry. Orzammar is the only place in the world that will treat you like this, yet you all stay. I'll never understand it.

Natia: I wouldn't still be casteless on the surface?

Ademaro: There is no caste on the surface. Every dwarf there is a foreigner, so we all help each other. It always seemed sad to me that our homeland is the one place in this world where you're likely to be killed by a fellow dwarf. Now unless you're going to buy something, I need to unload and get home before the rains set in. That's... water from the sky, by the way.

Natia: Can I take a look at your wares?

Ademaro: Fine, but try to steal something, and I'm calling the guards.

This merchant's rosy depiction of what it's like to be a surface dwarf makes me think that they hadn't planned out the Merchant's Guild stuff at this point because this is very different from what it's like in Dragon Age II (cutthroat competition).

Anyways, I get a Dwarven longsword, waraxe, and mace.

Dwarven Longsword: This is an excellent dwarven blade, displaying much finer quality than most human smiths are capable of achieving.

Dwarven Waraxe: Obviously never intended to chop wood, dwarven axes are forged for one purpose: combat. Occasionally, they are also needed for cutting off a particular tough piece of nug.

Dwarven Mace: This is a standard dwarven mace, the most common weapon of the rank-and-file dwarven soldier.

Dwarves make some good stuff and get better all the time.

Now to see a servant.

Servant: Watch yourself! The shaper doesn't need your footprints all over his clean clothes.

Natia: What are you doing?

Servant: I happen to be doing the personal washing of the third assistant to the shaper of memories! He's from House Harrowmont, you know. It took my mother five years of sewing dresses for the head maid to get me noticed. Mother tells me they never considered a single other candidate when the position opened for under washer.

Natia: Is working for a shaper that prestigious?

Servant: It's barely under the king himself! They control Orzammar's memories. They oversee births, marriages, death records, histories. Everything we do or are. Except you, I guess. Casteless and criminals aren't allowed in a shaper's presence.

Natia: If you're just a servant, aren't you casteless, too?

Servant: I am not casteless! I am an honourable member of the Servant Caste. I serve my betters, as is my place, decided by the ancestors who granted my mother my birth. I am not a criminal!

Natia: Sorry. I'll let you get back to your washing.

Servant: As if I'd stop for you.

With that bit done I get to the roadblock that stops me from exploring too far into Orzammar.

They literally put down a cart, some barrels and some boxes.

Guard: I assume this pile of worthless junk belongs to you? Do you realise it's in the way and that the patrols will not be able to come through? Move it, or I shall have it thrown out in the Deep Roads, and you with it!

Merchant: I'm so sorry, m-my lord, b-but they told me to move my goods over here. I... I couldn't even set up shop in my usual place.

Guard: Nonsense.

Merchant: It's true! Th-they said the... the servants needed to polish the floors of that side of the Commons, in preparation for the new commander's first commission!

Guard: Hmm, yes... the new Aeducan commander's feast is tomorrow, isn't it? (sigh) I suppose it can't be helped then. Very well. You may leave your goods here for now, merchant. But move them out of the way as soon as you can.

Ah, so the Dwarf Commoner origin happens the day before, not a week before.

With that done, I decide to get a few shots of Orzammar before visiting the Proving Grounds.

It really is quite the impressive place to look at, it's a shame that the camera can't focus on things without the PC getting in the way. And these shots make me realise just how ridiculous female rogue armour is in this game (and female armour in general sadly). Also, that skirt looks like a bunch of beer bottles.

Guard: Turn around, brand. No casteless on the grounds.

Natia: How would you like it if I kicked you out of somewhere?

Leske: I think what my friend meant to say is, we were just leaving.

*they leave*

Leske: What were you thinking? No casteless allowed at the Proving!

Sacred places are barred to those whose lives are considered utterly worthless.

With everything done, now I visit Tapster's Tavern to see Oskias.

And here's half of the reason why the Grey Wardens are in Orzammar.

Bartender: No casteless.

Natia: Seems like you've got an open-door policy on martyrs, though.

Bartender: Who the dust are... oh. My mistake, I didn't realise you're one of his. I-I'm not looking for any trouble.

Natia: Then just stay out of my way.

Bartender: You know I always do.

The Carta has a hell of a lot of power.

Oskias, the soon-to-be corpse.

Oskias: Hey, I was saving that seat!

Leske: That's real thoughtful, Oskias. It's tiring work looking for you.

Oskias: H-how do you know my name?

Natia: Empty your bags. If we like what we see, you keep breathing.

Oskias: Hey, you can't just... This is a public place; you got no right...

I know people! I'm under the personal protection of Anor Beraht. Try stealing from me and he'll--

Natia: You gibbering idiot. Beraht's the one who sent us.

Oskias: Oh, no. What did he tell you? He doesn't think I'd play the turncoat, does he? Because that would be... too much. I don't think I could handle--

Natia: If you did nothing wrong, you've got nothing to fear, right?

Oskias: I just want to make sure that nobody, uh, does anything too hasty.

Natia: Empty your bags. Beraht wants to see what you're hiding.

Oskias: Look, I-I always been loyal to Beraht. He's been good to my family; I-I know how much I owe him.

Natia: Then why have you been holding out on him?

Oskias: I haven't. I-I wouldn't.

Natia: (persuade) You think that's going to convince me?

Oskias: I do have some lyrium ore. I have a little deal with one of the mining families. If it worked out, I was gonna give Beraht his cut, I swear. I-I'd be crazy not to.

Leske: Suicidal, one might say.

Natia: Who have you been selling to?

Oskias: Surfacers pay good coin for lyrium. Mages up there, they use it for their spells, smiths use it in enchanted weapons...

I just took the money and ran. I-I mean, back to Beraht, to share the profits.

Natia: Bad idea. Leske?

Leske: Could everyone who isn't about to die please turn around for a moment? This may be unpleasant. Thank you.

Oskias: Y-you can't do this! Help! Call the guardsmen! This is murder!

Bartender: You two let me know if you need anything. I'll be in the back.

Oskias: It's just a bunch of rocks! You're going to kill me for that...?

Natia: Sorry, salroka. A job's a job.

Oskias: Nooo!

First things first, I love that line about everybody turning around from Leske.

Smart man.

Looks like we'll be able to provide Oskias' head on a plate after all.

Lyrium Nugget: This chunk of rock sings to itself, a sustained high note that sounds almost joyful. Faintly glowing crystals stud its surface.

So that's what lyrium sounds like.

Now to head back to Beraht.

Beraht: The king is old. His rule won't hold much longer.

Jarvia: Prince Bhelen seems far more sympathetic to our interests than Trian.

Beraht: Bhelen has some tastes of his own that he knows I can provide-- We'll finish this later.

It's about time you two showed up. What happened with Oskias?

Natia: We found Oskias. He had a side-deal going for lyrium.

Beraht: Some people are slow learners. He should have known: You don't lie to me. I can smell it. Don't I make that clear? I thought I made that clear. Now did you find what I asked for or not?

Natia: He was carrying these two nuggets.

Beraht: That's all? I guess the duster was smart enough to keep his main stash topside. And Oskias himself?

Natia: Last I saw, he was colouring the tile on the Tapsters' floor.

Beraht: Excellent. I'll send someone out to... handle the clean-up. Not you, though. I have another job in mind for you.

Natia: Anything you want, boss.

Beraht: The Warrior Caste is holding a Proving today--all the best fighters, last man standing--you know the sort of thing. They're showing off for some Grey Warden who's looking for candidates to drag off to a life of eternal glory. Now, it's not very often we get every name fighter in Orzammar lined up like that, and I have certain acquaintances who... take an interest in this sort of thing.

Natia: You're taking bets on the fighters.

Beraht: There's a lot of coin to be made when people get the fever up. Favoured figher's an officer named Mainar, veteran of four darkspawn campaigns. Everd's a long-shot. Just got back from a Deep Roads offensive. Some young buck who has all the ladies swooning. I've got a lot of money riding on him. Mine and other people's. I expect to see that eight-to-one pay off. Understand?

Natia: So how am I supposed to help Everd win?

Beraht: The fight only gets announced to the contestants themselves... to prevent illegal gambling. So first, you'll have to find Everd, see who he's fighting, and when. When the name Mainar comes up, I want you to slip this drug into the bastard's water. It'll slow his reflexes, just enough to take the edge off, not enough to show. But it wears off quickly, so don't use it until just before his fight.

Natia: All right. We'll go right now.

Beraht: You bet you will. Here's your pass to get into the grounds. The Proving starts as soon as the clock strikes. And when I say I have coin on this, I'm not talking about some pittance, like the value of your life. If I don't see Everd's name on the winner's sheet, you'd better make sure I never see you, or your sister, ever again.

And this is Jarvia, second in command of the Carta, she'll be a boss later on in the game.

The Curious Fan · Oct 19, 2015

The Proving said:
Valos atredum. In the 23rd year of the reign of King Ragnan Aeducan, an old man of the Servant Caste was accused of stealing a sapphire ring from his employer, Lord Dace. The servant was stripped of his position, he and his family thrown to the streets, and soon after, the servant died.

The son of the disgraced servant challenged Lord Dace to a Proving, declaring that his father had been the victim of a cruel injustice and the ancestors would bear him witness. Lord Dace had no choice but to accept.

On the sacred stone of the Proving Ground, the nobleman faced the servant boy. Lord Dace carried a sword crafted for his own hand and was clad in his great-grandfather's armor. The servant boy had neither armor nor weapon. When the battle began, the boy fought like a whole pack of angry deepstalkers, flinging himself upon the startled lord, wrenching the sword from his hand, and prying at his armor with bare fingers. The boy knocked Lord Dace to the ground and beat him until the lord begged for mercy.

The boy and his family were reinstated to their place in the Dace household, and the virtue of the boy's father was not questioned again. The ancestors had spoken, and no one would question their word.

—As told by Shaper Vortag

Nice story.

The Castes said:
Visitors to Orzammar should keep in mind that the hierarchies of dwarven society are much more complex than our own. It is easy to gravely insult a man simply by mistaking his position. Since this can lead to unnecessary loss of life and limbs, I will attempt to mitigate the danger for my fellow travelers.

The society of Orzammar is divided into nobles, warriors, smiths, artisans, miners, merchants, and servants. Now, you are undoubtedly saying to yourself, "We have all those divisions among our own people." This is a dangerous misconception. Certainly, we do have nobility, artisans, merchants, and these positions are largely inherited from our parents. However, the younger children of noblemen often choose to be artisans or soldiers. The sons of merchants may join the army, or become servants, or apprentice themselves to a craftsman. This is all freely chosen. Limited, perhaps, by the circumstances of birth, but still chosen.

What is a matter of choice for most human folk is dictated entirely by birth for dwarves. No one may become a smith who was not born to Smith Caste parents. A servant who marries a noblewoman will never be a noble himself, and although his daughters would be nobles, his sons would be servants, for daughters inherit the caste of their mother, while sons inherit the caste of their father.

--From In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar, by Brother Genitivi

The Caste system.

Finally, I go to the Provings.

Guard: You again. I said you weren't allowed on the Proving grounds, brand.

Natia: But I have a pass right here.

Guard: Hrmmm. Looks legitimate. Go on through, then. But stay to the trenches. Grey Wardens don't need some eyesore getting between them and the fighters.

First things first, I introduce myself to Duncan.

Duncan: Stone-met and blessings on your house. That was the proper greeting for an outsider last time I visited Orzammar. Has it changed? Or is there a reason you're looking at me so strangely.

Natia: It was just... nicer than I expected.

Duncan: Do they say the Grey Wardens are disrespectful, then? My name is Duncan. I'd say, "Of the Grey Wardens," but I suspect you already know that. Pleased to meet you.

Natia: I'm Natia. Of... of nobody.

Duncan:Ah... of course. That's what the brand means, then. I remember that now.

Natia: Is it true you're here looking for recruits? (there's another option where I can point out that he can have me arrested for harassing him but I didn't pick that).

Duncan: The Wardens are always looking for those who have the courage to spend their lives in battle against the darkspawn. It is rare we find those with both the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their friends, and inspiring to their troops. It's a lot to look for, but I hope to find it here. And I hope you also may find what you are looking for.

My dear Anika,

I would not worry about the Assembly: Let the nobles sit together and argue over whose house owns the grandest thaig. It keeps them from panicking, which they would surely do otherwise, and prevents them from making a greater nuisance of themselves. War is the business of warriors.

I would say that the enemy's strategy seems to be changing, but they never appeared to have a strategy before, beyond destroying everything in their path. For weeks, their numbers appeared to be dwindling. There was talk that perhaps we were getting close to wiping them out. We could not have been more wrong. For today we came upon the body of their main force. I cannot give words to it, Anika. I have never before seen so much death in one place. There were darkspawn beyond counting, and at the heart of the throng a great beast, as tall as the palace of Orzammar, with breath of fire. A Paragon of darkspawn, perhaps, for they seemed to pay it deference.

They were leaving. Marching toward the mine shafts which lead to the surface. But I knew when I beheld them that once they have devoured what lies above us, they will be back.

--From The Letters of Paragon Aeducan.

And that would be Dumat setting out from the Deep Roads in the First Blight. It's interesting that the Darkspawn apparently wiped out the Dwarven Empire before they found Dumat and made an Archdemon out of him.

Now for Everd.

Not good.

Everd: (snorts and grunts)

Leske: Sod it! He's stone drunk! He could draw a dead man for his bout and still lose. Ach. Beraht's going to kill us if we slip up on this. He's still mad about the time I accidentally told the Barkeep that Beraht had demanded free ale delivered to my door--

Hey, I just had an idea...

Natia: I could put on his armour. You know, fight in his name...

Leske: That's much better than my idea. I was going to say we should go up in the stands and start a rockslide, but you're brilliant! You'll be Everd. You'll go out in his armour, keep down the visor, and fight in his name. He wins, Beraht wins, everybody wins. Except all the Warrior Caste braggarts you leave kissing dust. (laughs)

I sodding love the way you think, my friend. I was afraid Beraht was going to kill us.

Natia: I'll put on the armour now. You find Mainar and drug him.

Leske: Got it! It'll help if you can distract him, though. Just, you know, talk to him so I can sneak past without him noticing. Let's do it quickly. We don't have much time.

Sadly, you can't go with Leske's plan and see what happens.

Everd's Helm: Forged from fine steel, but left largely unadorned, this was clearly made for an up-and-coming warrior house, not a powerful one.

Everd's Armour: This armor bears chips in the enamel from darkspawn blades and claws, burnished to high shine and displayed proudly.

Everd's Gloves: There's no mark from the smith who fashioned these. They appear to be common make, the sort that can be bought from any merchant in the Commons.

Everd's Boots: The mark of House Bera is plainly visible on the lining of these boots, but the smith's mark has been worn off the soles.

Everd's Sword: This bears both the mark of the warrior House Bera and the smith House Almas. The grip is wrapped with bronto leather and the guard is scarred by fights in the Deep Roads.

Everd's Axe: The handle of this axe bears the mark of House Bera. Four long gouges run across the flat of the blade, as if claws scored it.

Everd's Mace: Maces of this type haven't been made since the time of King Ansgar. Most likely, this belonged to Everd's father.

Everd's Shield: Despite the gouges in the steel from the claws and swords of darkspawn, this shield is still well-kept, and bears the mark of warrior House Bera.

I like that every single piece of this set has a unique description.

Much better than the rogue armour.

Of course, drugging Mainar requires a distraction to get into his water supply.

In this case I went with talking to him while Leske does the sneaking.

Mainar: Ready to concede already, Everd? (laughs)

"Everd": I just wanted to wish you luck in the Proving.

Mainar: I don't need luck! I led a darkspawn campaign, with over a hundred of the vermin killed. You think that was luck?

"Everd": I'm sure it helped.

Mainar: It was skill, Everd. A strong hand, a quick wit, and the voice of a leader. That's what it takes to lead a good campaign. You'll learn that.

"Everd": I will take your words to heart.

Mainar: You should, lad. You have promise. Everyone agrees.

Proving Master: Bout three is next. Officer Mainar versus the warrior Everd! Fighters, make final preparations then report to the ring.

Mainar: I'll see you in the ring.

*walks off*

Leske: I got him! No more time! Make sure you have everything and go tell the Proving guard you're ready to fight. And don't forget to keep your helmet down!

Huh, killing 100 darkspawn over the course of a single campaign is something to boast about. I figured a campaign would kill more.

Anyways, time for three fights.

Proving guard: May fortune favour your fight, Everd. Are you ready?

"Everd": (nod)

Proving guard: As you say.

Proving Master: This is a Glory Proving, fought under the watchful eyes of the Paragons of Orzammar for our honoured guests, the Grey Wardens. The warrior Everd, son of Galten, will fight Officer Mainar, survivor of the battle at Kar Elerin!

Mainar: Stone choose the... honour of... the heart... Oh, sod it. Let's just fight.

"Everd": Watch out, duster. You'll be coughing blood tonight!

Proving Master: First warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!

What. We know that both warriors survive a proving (as Oghren shows, actually killing an opponent gets you in deep shit) so what's this about the first to fall being vanquished?

2-hander animations are weird in this game.

Proving Master: The winner is Everd! A truly memorable fight. The young cadet vanquishes the wily veteran! Healer, see to his injuries.

The warrior Everd, Son of Galten, will fight last year's Journeyman Division champion Adalbo, proven in glory before the Stone.

Adalbo: You honour me with this fight. May we both win glory in the eyes of our lords.

"Everd": Now you're talking my language, Brother.

Proving Master: First warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!

Someone in the cutscene team got lazy and didn't bother to stop the bloodstain from spawning.

Proving Master: The winner is Everd! The ancestors have withdrawn their blessings, and embrace a new champion on their field.

The warrior Everd, son of Galten, will fight Lenka, Silent-Sister-in-training. She has made her vows, but not completed her blooding. Will she be accepted into the legendary order? That will depend on her performance today...

Lenka:--

"Everd": Um, all that stuff about honour and glory. Let's fight.

Proving Master: First warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!

Silent Sisters are actually supposed to fight barehanded but then fighting barehanded in this game is a massive handicap and they didn't want to make the final Proving fight too easy so they gave her a sword and a dagger.

Anyways, she falls without too much trouble since all she has to attack with is Precise Striking (higher crit chance or chance to hit in exchange for slower attacks IIRC).

Proving Master: The winner is Everd! Lenka went to the stone without a sound, as befits her vows, but it wasn't hard to see the blood that was spilled. Everd will advance to the final bout, to determine the true champion of the ring, against--

Everd: Wha-?

Is my bout a'ready?

Hey! That's my armour!

You can tell that she's thinking "Damn it Leske, what the fuck were you doing that let him get into the arena".

Proving Master: Who are you? How dare you disrupt this sacred-

Mainar: Wait! I know that man. That's Everd! Then... what imposter did I fight?

Proving Master: Remove your helmet, warrior, and let all who watched you see your face.

Natia: I am of no caste or clan, but I have defeated you all!

If you're going to get killed you may as well mock your killer as you go out.

Duncan's clearly impressed by the whole thing.

Proving Master: Casteless! You insult the very nature of this Proving. Guards, take this... filth away!

Duncan: Hold your men, I pray you. This warrior has defeated the best you have to offer. Is that not what this Proving is for?

Proving Master: We are honoured by your presence, Warden, but this Proving is not solely for you. There are laws which have governed this arena for a thousand years. This woman is no warrior! She is casteless, rejected by the ancestors. Her very footsteps pollute the Stone. She has no place here.

Duncan: Except as your champion...

I'm surprised he didn't just invoke the Rite of Conscription right there.

After this, the scene fades to black and Natia wakes up in prison with Leske.

Leske: Are you awake yet? (psst) Can you hear me?

How hard did they sodding hit you, anyway? Did you have to put up such a fight?

Natia: I just hope I took some of them down with me!

Leske: Oh, you did. And don't think they didn't show me their appreciation. One of the guards recognised me and figured we must be working together. They burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this. I think they knew, you know, about Beraht.

Natia: What's the sentence for ridiculing the entire Warrior Caste?

Leske: Public whipping. Loss of your left hand for stealing the armour. Loss of your right hand for befouling a smith's work...

Public flaying for impersonating a higher caste, and if that doesn't kill you, they'll put you to death for polluting the Proving. That Grey Warden suggested exile, but it didn't seem like anyone was listening.

Natia: Is there any way out?

Leske: No, I checked, and the cell is built straight into the cave wall. That door's the only way out and the confiscated my lock-picks. What's it look like on your side? You see any way out?

Interesting that it's only a problem if you impersonate a higher caste rather than pretending to be a lower caste.

*Jarvia walks in*

Jarvia: Good. You're awake. Beraht will be glad to hear that.

Natia: You look familiar. Do I know you?

Jarvia: You might want to watch your words, duster. They might be the last ones you'll get.

Leske: That's Jarvia, you moron! Don't dig us in deeper by insulting Beraht's top lieutenant.

Jarvia: You caused a lot of trouble today. Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney. The entire Proving was declared invalid, and the Assembly already called for an investigation. You can't imagine the state Beraht was in when he told me to get you.

Natia: Why are you here? Where are the guardsmen?

Jarvia: You're not in their cells anymore. And I don't think I appreciate the time and money it took to bribe the right people to get you back. You've got every guardsman at that Proving thinking that if he takes your head off, the ancestors will bless him forever. But they know whose hand holds the whip. When Beraht claimed you, they knew who's going to get to watch your last breath.

Natia: I'm not scared of him. All I did was follow his orders.

Jarvia: You risked exposing him before the entire Warrior Caste. Now they're asking questions, and as long as you have tongues to answer them, you're a threat. Enjoy your last night together. Sorry we had to put you in separate cells, or I'd suggest you have a last tumble. Beraht'll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence.

To get out of here, you must get the guard to come close enough to take his key (there are other ways, but this is the only way guaranteed to work since all Dwarf Commoners start with a rank in stealing).

Guard: Hey! Leave off with your noise. You're giving me a headache.

Natia: The bar on this door is broken. Could you check it out?

Guard: Where? I don't see nothing wrong.

*Natia picks his pocket while he's distracted*

Guard: Oh, you're probably just upset. I remember one time when Mistress Jarvia was mad at me. She didn't lock me up, but she yelled a lot. And she hit me on the head.

I almost feel bad that I'll have to kill this guy.

After this it's just a run through the Carta hideout from later in the game until I get to Beraht.

Beraht: I'm cutting the whore free. If that freak of a sister of hers can't stay in her place, I don't need precious Rica, either.

Thug 1: Rica? That the one you got all done up in lace? I been wanting to get my hands on that.

Thug 2: Heh, I know what you mean...

Beraht: She's yours if you want her, boys. And let me tell you... it tastes as good as it looks.

Thug 1 and 2: Heh-heh-heh...

*Natia and Leske walk in*

Beraht: What in sod-all is that doing out of its cage? Come on boys, the little whore needs to learn her place.

Beraht goes down like a chump in a few seconds.

Leske: Did you see him there, all, "When we're done with you?" And you just charged in and sodding slaughtered him! You have to be the luckiest duster in Orzammar. Beraht's dead and we're standing here! Hail to the sodding king!

Natia: And now we step up and take things over.

Leske: Whoa. Don't push it, salroka. Beraht kept his place by making sure it was always dusters like us who took the fall. Right now, half of Orzammar knows who you are. We've got to lay low for a while.

Natia: I'm serious. I want to take over the Carta.

Leske: Maybe in a long time, when everyone's forgotten what happened today, we can see who's left to challenge us. And maybe, if Beraht's family topside doesn't figure out who killed him, they'll keep doing business with us. And maybe, we'll be able to figure out which mining families stocked the carta with lyrium. And then, maybe, we'll have the chance to take over. Until then, let's just get out of here.

A surprising bit of insight from Leske, he's not just a thug after all.

Once I've escaped the hideout and gotten to the commons through the hole in the wall of Beraht's shop I immediately run into the worst two individuals.

Ah shit.

This really wasn't what Leske was hoping for when he escaped.

Guard: There they are! Seize the fugitives!

*guards surround them*

Proving Master: Drop your weapons and walk down slowly. We will use force if you resist.

*Duncan and Rica walk up*

Natia: What are you all doing here?

Duncan: Your escape from Orzammar's prison had the guards baffled, it seems. Until one of them recognised your friend as Beraht's man.

Proving Master: Regardless, the penalty for impersonating a higher caste is death (I thought it was public flaying?)

Duncan: If Beraht is as influential as you say, perhaps he also masterminded this Everd's impersonation.

Natia: Last I saw Beraht, he was suffering a bad case of dead.

Proving Master: He's dead? Beraht had many enemies, but also powerful allies. They--

Leske: Beraht would have butchered us if she hadn't killed him first!

Duncan: Your friend has once again demonstrated her courage. We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with the potential to join our ranks. It seems I have found one.

Natia: Why are you telling me this? What's in it for you?

Duncan: Let me make my offer formal, I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend the invitation for you to join our order.

Proving Master: This woman is wanted for treason. You can't do this!

Duncan: I can and I am. It would mean travelling to the surface lands and thus leaving your people, but it does offer you the chance to strike a blow against the darkspawn and the Blight.

Natia: But I've never even seen a darkspawn!

Duncan: You are a survivor. Fighting the darkspawn is something we can teach, the rest that you know must come naturally. From what I've seen you've not only the skill to best the most promising warriors in Orzammar, but also the courage to take on your betters. Few I have met are so qualified to join.

Natia: Then sodding yes, let's get out of here now.

Duncan: Then before these witnesses, I hereby recruit you into the Grey Wardens. Know that you are most welcome.

Proving Master: This is highly irregular. The warrior families will be... most upset...

Leske: Look at you, you duster! A Warden! And to think I knew you when you were stealing bread!

Duncan: Before we brave the Deep Roads, I would like to make you a gift of this mace, since you have so few possessions of your own. It was once wielded by the Warden Foral Aeducan. I believe he was related to your king. I know you will continue his proud example. Goodbye, my friends, and thank you for your hospitality.

The bit about braving the Deep Roads makes me wonder, is there any reason why he can't have recruited both the Commoner and the Noble dwarf origins? He was around for the events of both of them.

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Connoisseur of Cuteness

Perpetually sleep deprived

Perpetually sleep deprived

Perpetually sleep deprived