Dealing with Dragons: Let's Play Dragon Age: Origins!

URIST SMASH PUNY METAPHORS FOR THE TYRANNY OF ORGANIZED RELIGION!



URIST POKE AT FIRE THING WITH SHARP METAL STICK!

(Remember what I was saying about Rage demons and the burning man? Well, that applies to Rhagos as well. It can still do normal physical hits, but those might as well be butterfly kisses.)



Four down!

Urist wonders what Niall has been doing all this time. Whining, probably. Is it just her, or does she have a tendency to bring that out in people?



On the bright side, she now knows why the Smith and Warrior castes are always rattling on and on and on about these Golems. They're awesome!

Urist decides that if she ever does have to go back to Orzammar, she's not leaving until she gets a Golem Grey Warden.



“In the red corner, Uthkiel 'the Crusher' Ogresmythe...”



“In the blue corner, Urist 'Stonewall' Aeducan! It's going to be a real slobberknocker tonight, folks! Which of these musclebound brutes will win the first international Padding the Scenario Cup?!”



“The winner, and still cham-peen, URIST!”



And now it's finally time to- Wait a minute...

After several minutes of scouring every previous location, Urist returns to the Raw Fade in the hopes that Niall might finally be useful and tell her what the hell she could possibly be missing.



“Urist, it is literally five steps away from where I'm standing. I've been staring almost directly at it this entire time. Every adorable kitten will die someday.”

(I am amazing at Dragon Age: Origins.)



Urist and Yevena dance a traditional Fade dance of merriment and slaughter. She was especially easy to take down... I wonder why?



… Yep, seems that way.



Urist weighs her options and decides that Niall will be about as useful as tits on a bull, so she just decides to go ahead and explore the new portals until he learns to man up.



Urist's had that nightmare about having to go back to Dwarven Charm School so many times now it's not even funny.



Now, Alistair can be a bit of a handful, but he's hardly a nightmare. This Sloth guy is up to something...



Well, guess who's drunk?

Alistair: These are her children, and there's more about somewhere. We're one big happy family, at long last!

Alistair's drunk, and delusional.

Urist: Get away from them, Alistair. This is a trick.
Alistair: What are you talking about?
Goldanna?: Well, Alistair, is your friend staying for supper?
Alistair: Say you'll stay. Goldanna's a great cook. Maybe she'll make her mince pie. You can, can't you?



“Mince pie?! I can hear your arteries whistling shut from here.”



Alistair: Huh. I'm not sure how to react to that, so I just won't. I think your odd behaviour is brought on by hunger. Now come and have some pie. I promise you'll feel better.
Urist: I'll find some way to free you, Alistair.
Alistair: Sometimes I just don't understand you. I'll be here then, if you ever want to visit.

Urist isn't exactly sure what's actually happening here, but she knows one thing for certain. Any loving, caring, “sister” of Alistair's is almost certain to be a sham, probably concocted by Arl Eamon himself in order to keep Alistair in line.

“Oh Alistair,” he probably said, no doubt while stroking one of those pathetic tufts that humans try to pass off as a beard. “You don't want to sleep outside in the muck, do you? Well, then that means I'll have to have the linens washed. And if I have to have the linens washed, I'll have to pay the maid. And if I have to pay the maid, I'll never be able to afford the super-expensive elf medicine that poor little Goldanna so desperately needs for her heart condition!”

The point being is that none of this is real, of course.



Goldanna?: He's ours. Nothing you say will convince him otherwise. He sees only what we want him to see.
Urist: Why don't we just fight and get it over with?
Goldanna?: I am not so easily disposed of, Grey Warden.



Of course, Alistair stands there oblivious to the world while Urist fights for her life against Goldanna and her obscene brood of demon children.



Alistair: Yes... uh, well. Try not to tell everyone how easily fooled I was.



Hopefully that means that Alistair was able to break out of the Fade.

In the next nightmare...



“No no, we reset when we got that chainmail drop, remember?”

Wynne: What about all this? How can you say that when you are faced with this? Death. Can you not see it? It's all around us.
Urist: You're in the Fade. This is a dream.
Wynne: Why was I spared, if not to help them? What use is my life now that I have failed in the task that was given me?



Wynne: Your blatant disregard for the souls of the dead strikes me as being utterly inappropriate.
Urist: Please think about what you're doing here and why.
Wynne: I do not know what you are trying to tell me. Why must you make this more painful? And where were you when this happened? I trusted you as an ally and you were nowhere to be found.
Urist: (Persuade) I am the only thing that's real. Ignore everything else. I couldn't sound creepier right now if I tried.
Wynne: I do not know what this will accomplish, but I will do this, if it will satisfy you. It is... difficult... to focus. It feels as though something is... stopping me from concentrating. I have never had so much trouble... Perhaps some time away from this place will help me think clearly.
Urist: That sounds like a good idea.




“Wynne! That's racist!”

Student: Stay, Wynne. Sleep soundly in the comforting embrace of the earth. Do not fight it. You belong here, with us.
Wynne: N-no. Not yet. My task is not yet done... it is not time yet!



There were a few more dead apprentices hanging around in addition to that guy, which kind of makes Urist wonder: Why do they still let this woman teach?!

“Wynne, we're all still in shock over the 'Crushing Prison Incident', but we've got three new apprentices coming in this month, and the templar's strike still isn't over. Maybe you could try teaching healing magic instead? That might be safer for the children.”
“MY TASK HERE IS NOT YET DONE.”
“I'm glad we had this talk.”

Wynne: Is it over? Thank the Maker for you. Wait... what's happening? Where are you going?

Last, but not least, is Sten's nightmare. As Urist approaches, Sten turns and offers her a greeting, but...



Karasaad: Don't bother the sten. Isn't it your turn to cook?
Karashok: Cook what? There's no food in this miserable, frozen country.

(Most Qunari do not use proper names, and are only known by their rank. So Sten's subordinates are actually being perfectly respectful here.)



Sten: I know.
Karashok: We've been days in this place. There's no sign of any threat. The arishok's report was wrong. Can we not go home?
Karasaad: No.
Urist: None of this is real, you know.



Sten: This is a dream. I'm not a fool, Warden. I remember seeing the karashok there have his head torn off.
Karasaad: Well, at least it's not a great loss.
Karashok: You are so entertaining, kadan. You should perform in the square with the other trained monkeys. We could throw you peanuts.
Sten: It's a dream, but it's a good dream.
Urist: Don't you want to avenge these men?
Sten: Revenge... what good does that do them? Their corpses will not taste it, or share in the victory.

Karashok: It's bread.
Karasaad: … Of course it is. (Sigh) Rational men would call this, “despair.'

It's like if there were two Alistairs who dressed alike and always finished each other's stupid jokes.

Urist: You gave your word to aid me.
Sten: (Sigh) I did.
Sten: Stand aside. I would hate to see you all die again.
Karashok: No! We won't let you leave us again!



Well, there goes the poor Karashok's head again.

Sten: And yet this gives me no peace. I wish to leave this place- No! More trickery? What is happening?

(Each character's nightmare references their respective personal sidequests to some degree except for Dogstoevsky's, since he does not have either a nightmare or a sidequest. Unfortunately, if you complete a character's personal sidequest before going to the Circle Tower, that character's nightmare does not change in any way. Even in the cases where the outcome of their sidequest changes the character's perspective significantly. But more on that later...

By the way, the Warden's nightmare will always feature a kindly Duncan praising him/her to the skies and cheering about the end of the darkspawn, even if the Warden showed nothing but contempt for Duncan and had to be dragged to the Grey Wardens kicking and screaming. And while we're on the subject of missed opportunities, why Duncan? For Urist, for example, even just switching out Duncan for King Aeducan, and having him say “I love you, everyone has forgiven you, we exiled Bhelen instead, and you can have your old life back” would have done a lot to make non-Human Noble Warden's origins actually matter a little more, without actually having to do a lot.)



Now that Urist's companions are free, she can go to the Inner Sanctum and hopefully find a way to free herself.



Sloth: But playtime is over. You all have to go back now.

… “ You all?” Is that some kind of bizarre demonic regionalism?



Sten: I am here. And it is time to finish this. I have had enough of cages.
Wynne: You will not hold us, demon. We found each other in this place and you cannot stand against us.

(If Urist had not rescued her companions from their nightmares, or if she had low approval ratings with them, they would not appear in Sloth's domain alongside her, and she would be forced to fight Sloth alone.)



Sloth: Can't you think about someone other than yourself? I'm hurt, so very, very hurt.
Urist: Sorry, but I'd rather just be rid of your evil right now.
Sloth: You wish to battle me? So be it... you will learn to bow to your betters, mortal!

The fight with the Sloth Demon actually has five different stages, most of which are easily countered by Urist's various Fade forms.



First is the Ogre form, which can be walloped into submission by the golem (just make sure to be careful when using the Quake ability, since it has friendly fire and the companions will be swarming in and out of range without warning.)



The next form is the Rage Demon form, which can always be countered by the burning man (seen in mid-transformation.)

(Some of these screenshots come from different takes, and some of the takes date from before I noticed that both Alistair and Sten had Threaten activated, which is not a very good idea. I am amazing at Dragon Age: Origins.)



Form #3 is the abomination form, which doesn't have any weakness in particular, but since this will be Urist's last chance ever to use Crushing Prison, she decides to go for it.



Form #4 is the Shade form, which is a little bit too tough for the spirit form to endure, but perfectly doable for Urist in her true form (and Alistair I guess.)

The Sloth Demon's final form is the same arcane horror shape that it was wearing when Team Urist came in, and it is, without a doubt, the most difficult of its forms.



This is mainly because he can also use Crushing Prison and Winter's Grasp, and boy does he love to use them. Spirit form does allow Urist a fair chance at resisting the spells, but as you can see, it's not exactly a foolproof strategy.

On the bright side, humans and qunari can use lyrium veins, so if Sloth gives anybody any breathing room, there's nothing stopping the rest of Team Urist from getting their fix.

(By the way, mages get a spell that can one-shot kill almost anything that relies on magic power to do damage. Things like Sloth's final form, for example. Said spell is Mana Clash, and it's not even restricted by specialization. Bioware might as well have stuck a sticker on the box that said “Roll A Mage God Damn You”)

Thanks to the power of teamwork, Team Urist is triumphant, and Sloth dies for good. But they don't return to the real world right away...



It's not that Niall thinks that the glass is always half-empty. It's that he's convinced himself that it's half-full of poison.

Niall: When you return... take the Litany of Adralla from my... body. It will protect you from the worst of the blood magic.
Urist: Your body?
Niall: I cannot go with you. I have been here far too long. For you it will have been an afternoon's nap. Your body won't have wasted away in the real world while your spirit lay in the hands of a demon.
Urist: You think you're going to die?
Niall: Every minute I was here, the sloth demon was feeding off of me, using my life to fuel the nightmares of this realm. There is so little of me left... I was never meant to save the Circle, or... survive its troubles. I am dying, it is as simple as that.
Urist: I should leave quickly then.
Niall: It is time for us both to be on our way. Remember the Litany of Adralla. The Circle is all that matters now. Thank you and goodbye... friend.

Okay, now Urist feels kind of bad for complaining about Niall being so lazy and relentlessly negative. Then again, it's not as if she knew they were all getting their souls sucked out the entire time they were there. (Wynne did not mention this.)

The world goes dark once again, but this time, Team Urist finds themselves back in the Circle Tower, at the exact same spot they were standing in when they fell asleep.



And Niall's body lies on the floor nearby, as lifeless as Niall figured it would be.



On the bright side, Sloth was apparently too stupid to check Niall's pockets before he left his host and returned to the Fade, so Team Urist is finally making some real progress in their plan to save the Circle. Oh, and whosisname and whatsisface, back in Redcliffe. Maybe they might not be dead yet. Fortune can be capricious sometimes, you know.

Next Time: Circle Tower 2: Die Harder

Codices:

Extras:



In honour of the MVP of the update: Arcane Horror Sloth The Spirit.

I have tried playing this game a few times but never had the patience to get very far. Too many words and the combat either feels like a cakewalk or a facestomping with no middle ground.

That said, I've never had a lot of trouble with the Fade.

I never did the Fade section with Sten on my playthrough. It's interesting that he doesn't fall for the demon's tricks- I guess being grumpy and unimaginative is a superpower in a world where your dreams can kill you and hijack your corpse.

This is the point I stopped at in Dragon Age. I really enjoyed the fade but the combat was just too clunky for me. Pausing every 5 seconds to reissue commands with a so-so interface and dumb as a nail AI made it just too much hassle. I did enjoy most of the story so I'll definitely be following along, largely for the story bits.

The Fade actually looks really cool. My favorite part of the game so far from an observer's perspective.

I can see how you might hate it if you were trying to stab everything dead, though.

I started a play through of this game when the LP started up, and I wanted to keep pace with it. I got distracted by other things and when I hit Lothering I just lost interest and burned out. I forced myself to start it up and I've been enjoying the game despite its pacing and gameplay issues. I feel that there is too much talking and the combat is either a breeze or grueling, not giving me any satisfaction of growth for the most part. I think for me the issue is that I'm new to computer RPGs of this sort and the learning curve is rather front loaded.

I've finally caught up to the LP and have done the Soldier's Peak quest as well. I've done things a bit differently and I'm playing a greatsword build for a human noble. Which is funny, since I spend most of my time controlling Alistair and Morrigan.

As for the Fade, I found myself enjoying it because I used my forms as often as possible. Usually as Burning Man because FIREBALL.

Also this,
is what makes me enjoy this LP so much. The writing and formatting is great.

Last time, on Dragon Age: Origins, Urist rescued her companions and escaped the Fade. Now all that's left to do is find Uldred before Greagoir and the rest of the templars start getting too antsy.



Wynne has advanced herbalism skills, so Urist uses the last of her flasks to replenish the team's poultice stocks.

Oh, and while doing some Possessed Templar cleanup, Urist comes across this little number:



Then she decided that it would probably be okay if Wynne wasn't completely up to date on her armour.



Dragons in the tower! Just thought you should know!

At the other end of what is presumably the Templar's Library (no doubt filled with prayer books and books about how mages are poop heads), Urist finds what is perhaps the most suspicious room in the tower.



As if there isn't going to be an enemy ambush the second she touches those chests.



Well, that was the weird globe/astrolabe combo instead, but you get the point.

As for what is inside of that incredibly tantalizing locked chest?



WELL FUCK YOU TOO, TEMPLARS!

(The Trade Manifest, despite the florid description the mouseover gives you, is a junk item. I have no idea why this series gives out so many junk items, when inventory space is always at such a premium. Maybe it was a holdover from a planned crafting system, or some sort of barter-based economy, but what it ultimately turns out to be is a pain in the ass.)

In the very next room, Urist comes across a templar trapped in a luscious pink candy shell (which is presumably magical in origin.)



Wynne: The boy is exhausted. And this cage, I've never seen anything like it. Rest easy... help is here.
Cullen: Enough visions. If anything in you is human... kill me now and stop this game. You broke the others, but I will stay strong, for my sake, and theirs... Filthy blood mages... getting in my head... I will not break... I'd rather die.
Urist: You're not going to die, not if I can help it.
Cullen: Silence... I'll not listen to anything you say. Now begone!



So this is what Alistair would have turned out like if he'd stayed a templar.

Cullen: Don't blame me for being cautious. The voices... the images... so real... Did Greagoir send you? How... how did you get here?
Urist: Just tell me where the surviving mages are.
Cullen: What others? What are you talking about?
Wynne: Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred. Where are they?
Cullen: They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming out from there... oh, Maker...
Wynne: We must hurry. They are in grave danger, I am sure of it.
Cullen: You can't save them. You don't know what they've become.
Urist: We can't just kill them all.
Cullen: They've been surrounded b-by blood mages whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts.
Wynne: His hatred of mages is so intense... the memory of his friends' deaths is still fresh in his mind.
Cullen: To ensure this horror is ended... to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there.
Urist: I'd rather spare maleficarum than risk harming an innocent.



(Agreeing with Cullen here will cause Wynne to attack, forcing Urist to kill her.)

Cullen: Rational? How is this rational? Do you understand the danger?
Wynne: I know full well the dangers of magic, but killing innocents because they might be maleficarum is not justice. I know you are angry-
Cullen: You know nothing! I am thinking about the future of the Circle. Of Ferelden.



(Judging from the look on his face, Alistair's probably thinking about pie again.)

Urist: (Persuade) It isn't that simple, Sten.
Sten: Perhaps.



Five minutes ago, he was pissing his pants in terror when he thought an illusion had approached him, and now he's Mr. Tough Guy?

Cullen: My cage is Uldred's doing... or one of his mages. Once they're dead, I will be free.
Urist: And then I will decide what to do with the others.



Making stupid faces isn't going to change anyone's mind!

(Cullen, like Jowan and most of the named magi in the Circle Tower, is a character who previously appeared in the Mage Origin. Unlike Jowan (but just like Niall), he can be passed over entirely without the player ever realizing it. However, if the Warden is a mage, and female, Cullen can confess at this point that he'd had a crush on her while she was in the Tower. Fat lot of good that did her in this timeline, of course.)

Anyway, what were we doing again? Right.



Looks like Urist lost that Persuasion roll.

(If Urist had taken more of a hardass approach to Cullen and Sten's objections right away, Sten would not have lost any approval rating. Sten doesn't exactly come to agree with this choice, but his typical approval pattern is to respect firm decisions and no-nonsense leadership. We've seen this previously, such as in Sten's nightmare in the Fade.)

The stairs to the Harrowing Chamber are just to the left of Cullen's cell, so after buffing and smearing various goos and poisons all over everyone's armours, Team Urist bursts through the doors to the Harrowing Chamber, to confront Uldred once and for all!

Confronting Uldred

Huh, now where has Urist seen that guy before?

Thanks for that, Revered Mother. If it hadn't been for you- Well, Urist and Alistair would have died horribly thanks to that idiot Cailan and that opportunistic bastard Loghain, so maybe shutting Uldred down and pushing him over the edge wasn't such a bad thing after all. Thanks, but with sincerity this time!



Thanks, Mom.

Once the battle starts, Uldred takes on his abominable true form: the Pride Demon. Unlike Sloth, he actually gets a unique render!

He also hits really hard in addition to having lots of punishing fire and lightning spells (plus Crushing Prison), so if you have a tank that's wearing outdated gear that doesn't draw as much aggo as it should, this might be a bit of a tricky battle. (I am amazing at Dragon Age: Origins.)



Uldred's attendant abominations aren't anything special after an entire tower (and dreamland) of fighting through waves and waves of them, but once they're gone, he has quite a fiendish plan for getting adds onto the field.



Whenever a circle of light surrounds one of the remaining captive mages, Team Urist has only a few seconds to use the Litany of Adralla before Uldred turns him into an abomination. Not only is this a pain in the ass in itself, it can also happen to Irving if he's the only mage left, and if it does, kiss goodbye to your chances of getting the templars to call off the Rite of Annulment. Greagoir wasn't kidding about that either.



Urist is automatically equipped with the Litany, but it would be wise to make sure everyone in the party has it on their toolbar, just in case Urist gets frozen or stuck in a Crushing Prison.



Case in point. (Crushing Prison, I loved you! Noooo!)



On the bright side, if you should miss the circles of light, there are still plenty of tells for when Uldred starts trying to make more abominations.

Eventually, Team Urist is triumphant!



Sten whacked him so hard he vanished into the floor! Brutal!



The Cinderfel Gauntlets are the standout prize here, but they're better suited to Morrigan's talents, so Wynne will not be getting any more wacky accessories today.



Irving: I've... ngh... been better. But I am thankful to be alive. I suppose that is your doing, isn't it, Wynne?
Wynne: I wasn't alone. I had help.
Irving: The Circle owes both of you a debt we will never be able to repay. Come, the templars await. We shall let them know that the tower is once again ours.
Urist: Very well, lead on.
Irving: I'll need you to guide me down the stairs... Ah, curse whoever insisted the Circle be housed in a tower.

*LAUGH TRACK, CUE “TOSSED SALAD AND SCRAMBLED EGGS, CREDITS, END SCENE”*

Irving: It is over, Greagoir. Uldred... is dead.



Cullen, nobody likes a drama queen.

Irving: What? Don't be ridiculous!
Cullen: Of course he'll say that! He might be a blood mage! Don't you know what they did? I won't let this happen again!



“Sick burn, by the way.”

Irving: We will rebuild. The Circle will go on, and we will learn from this tragedy, and be strengthened by it.
Greagoir: We have won back the tower. I will accept Irving's assurance that all is well.



Greagoir: Enough! I have already made my decision. Thank you, you have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle, and the templars.
Urist: And what about the darkspawn? I require aid.
[b]Greagoir:{/b] I promised you aid, but with the Circle restored, my duty is to watch the mages. They are free to help you, however. Speak to them. For now, I will have to oversee a sweep of the tower. There may be some survivors and we should do our best to tend to them. Please, excuse me. And Irving... it is good to have you back.
Irving: Ah, I'm sure we'll be back at each other's throats in no time.

Urist then turns to talk to Irving, who has been standing there the entire time and could have taken over the conversation at any moment. “Humans are socially awkward,” thinks Urist.



Irving: I'm glad you arrived when you did. It's almost as though the Maker Himself sent you.
Urist: The Blight drove me here to seek aid.
Irving: The least we can do is help you against the darkspawn. I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight.



Irving: Wynne... we need you here. The Circle needs you.
Wynne: I appreciate the sentiment, Irving, but the Circle will do fine without me. The Circle has you.



Irving: You were never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere. I give you leave to follow the Grey Warden, but know that you always have a place here.

So... after all of that drama and fuss and pages upon pages of woeful exposition by every man, woman, and child in the Circle Tower, it turns out that a mage can leave the tower for an indefinite length of time, at any time, just by getting Irving's permission? Apparently only Irving's permission? Even if the best she can offer is a vague “We're going to do great things!” inspirational power speech by way of reason?

Somewhere in the bowels of Mage Hell, Uldred and his fellow conspirators are probably kicking themselves right now.

But, lest Urist forget what brought her here in the first place...



Irving: The child is possessed? But... killing the demon would mean killing the- Unless you intend to enter the Fade? Yes... yes, it can be done with a group of mages... I shall gather what mages I can and we shall leave promptly. A life is at stake.

“What the hell, I'll write myself a permission slip too! Permission slips for all!”



Urist suddenly remembers that she left Jowan in charge of keeping Redcliffe safe, and decides that it would be for the best if she hurried back.



Sten: You mean that I should remark upon the weather before I cut off a man's head?
[b]Alistair:[b] … Never mind.

(From this point onward, Team Urist can mill around the Circle Tower as much as they please. Which is pretty handy for coming back later to get the rest of those locked chests that probably hold worthless garbage.)

Meanwhile, the plot thickens...

(This event is always scripted to happen after the completion of the first major questline, regardless of what that questline happened to be.)

Urist decides to stop in to see how Redcliffe Village is doing. And, of course, to turn in all of that Corpse Gall for for cold, hard cash.



As she presses the stamp onto the page, Urist wonders just why the bill was called “Unintended Consequences.” Maybe the Chanter thought it was catchy, who knows?



Owen: Take this... a reward for your deed. It's dwarven made, and should serve you well.
Urist: Thank you. I was glad to help.

(If Team Urist had not found Valena in Castle Redcliffe, the quest would have ended with Owen having killed himself. On the bright side, unlike Lloyd, Owen does get a replacement, so they wouldn't have had to worry about not having a blacksmith.)



All that talk about armour reminded Urist that she had a Party Chest that needed using. All the way over on the coast. With at least one stupid random encounter.



“Sounds legit, let's go.”



“Are you seriously not even going to try to make it look like there might actually be refugees in distress over here?”



“I guess not.”



Notice that Zevran is only a common enemy. I sure hope Arl Howe kept the receipt!



The “refugee woman” is actually a mage, and if she's left alone for too long, she'll mess Team Urist up. Of course, you all should know the solution for that by now.



Oh, and thrill at Urist's complete lack of talent with the crossbow!

Moments later...



Zevran: Mmm... what? I... oh. I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet.
Urist: That could be easily rectified.
Zevran: Of that I have no doubt. You are most skilled. If you haven't killed me, however, you must have kept me alive for some purpose, yes?
Urist: I'll ask the questions, here.
Zevran: Ah, So I'm to be interrogated? Let me save you some time. My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly.
Urist: I'm rather happy you failed.
Zevran: So would I be, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one's budding assassin career.
Urist: Too bad for you, then. Why are you telling me all this?
Zevran: Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely.
Urist: Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?
Zevran: Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.
Urist: I'm listening. Make it quick.
Zevran: Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will.



Zevran: Well... let's see. Being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful to you. And somewhere down the line if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?
Urist: Very well, I accept your offer.



Alistair: I... well, no. I suppose we could use whatever help we can get. Still, if there was a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello.

Alistair complained when Urist took in the homeschooled mage, he rolled his eyes when she took in the Born-Again nutter, he didn't really seem to mind at all when Urist freed a murderer from prison, but he draws the line at the relatively-sane, if inept, assassin? Typical Alistair!



So then Urist added Zevran to the party right away, out of spite.

During the traditional looting spree, Urist notices that one of the random henchmen had this on him.




… Seems like that'll be something to remember, if Urist ever finds herself face to face with a Friend of Red Jenny.

And so, after several minutes of inventory management, getting Alistair's new outfit on, and crawling all the way back across the map of Ferelden, Urist found herself back at Castle Redcliffe, where Irving and a bunch of other mages await. For some reason, Jowan is still hanging around like a bad smell.



Irving:We have brought lyrium and begun preparations for the ritual. We can start anytime.
Urist: So only one person can go through?
Irving: Yes. We haven't sufficient lyrium at present to send more than one mage into the Fade.
Urist: Let's do this now.



“Yes, Zevran. He does this all the time. You can still back out if you want to.”

Irving: Very well. Who will go into the Fade?

Now... Urist has a bit of a difficult decision to make, here. It's important that she weighs each mage's respective pros and cons very carefully, so that the demon can't seize upon a momentary lapse of judgment, or a brief flicker of vulnerability. She must also consider that the Fade is just as much about mental manipulation as it is about magical power, so the ideal candidate should be as wise as he or she is powerful.

… Or she could just go for the ridiculous option.



Irving: Me? Confront the demon? This is... a lot to ask.
Urist: (Persuade) I think you owe me.
Irving: I suppose I do, at that. So be it. I shall confront this demon, myself. Let us begin at once.



Somehow, Irving gets the distinct feeling that Wynne finds this state of affairs amusing.



(As you can see, First Enchanter does not necessarily mean Best Enchanter (no Winter's Grasp, Irving? Really?) But Irving's stats do outclass those of both Morrigan and Wynne at this point in the game, and it's not as if he doesn't have anything useful in his bag of tricks.)



“What a strange coincidence,” thinks Irving. “The Grey Warden has a Small Painted Box that looks exactly like mine!”

(Irving doesn't actually have any access to any of Team Urist's inventory, except for the Plot Items screen, which he can't do anything but admire.)



This section of the Fade is filled with apparitions of both Connor and Arl Eamon, who constantly roam around and call out to each other, but are never able to meet. Irving can't do anything about that, so he decides to keep exploring the fade in search of the demon.



“Well, she did say the man was a monster. I thought she'd meant it in the figurative sense when I heard that story about the dog kennel, but...”



Irving: You are in the Fade, good man. A demon has you trapped here.
Eamon: But... is my son in danger?
Irving: He is, but I will do my best to see that all of us emerge from this unscathed. Trust me, my arl.
Eamon: I... should trust you? I should... But... I can never find him in this fog. You must find Connor! Please, I beg you...

“He seems like such a caring and loving father! And that beard... simply marvelous! Perhaps the Grey Warden was mistaken.”



Irving: Be calm, child. I have come to help you.
Connor: No! You're here to hurt Father! I know it! I won't let you!



MAKER'S BREATH!



Oh, how erotic.



With Misdirection Hex and a Glyph of Paralysis laid down, the demon isn't much of a threat. In fact, Irving's biggest threat at this point is his cooldown counter.

Upon defeat, the demon teleports away, and Irving chases it down to another part of the Fade.



Irving: Please, child, listen to me. I am here to help you!
Demon: I will not speak with you! Trespasser! I will drive you out!



This time, the demon thought ahead and brought a playmate, but Irving is still able to keep them handily under control.

The demon teleports away again, but Irving continues the chase.



Irving: Because you have taken a child, demon. Our world is not your world. Surely you must realize this by now.
Demon: No, it is time for you to go now. Do not persist, or things will go very badly for you.



This time, the demon has two pals, which can get kind of hairy if Irving is stupid enough to let them surround him. If all else fails, he can Mana Drain from one in order to get enough juice to finish off the other. The demon itself is, as ever, a pushover.



Demon: It is here I am most powerful, and yet I have no wish to engage your power. Nor should you be so eager to engage mine. Perhaps we should converse, instead?
(Converse with the demon.)



Irving thanks the Maker that the Grey Warden had the sense to send him in, instead of some other, much less scrupulous mage. Imagine the havoc that could be loosed upon the world if someone were to bargain with the demon, perhaps with the life of this innocent child!

(If the Warden is a mage, the final confrontation with the demon can actually turn into a dialogue in which the demon promises him/her power in exchange for its freedom. In a non-modded, vanilla DA:O game, this is the only way to unlock the Blood Magic specialization.

If the Warden is not a mage, no NPC mage or party member will ever try to bargain with the demon. As the saying goes, if you want something done right (or wrong), you've got to do it yourself.)

Demon: Release him? Do not be foolish, old man. This is my place of power. I do as I wish, here. Truly, is there no room for negotiation? Let us speak, human. Surely there is something you desire, hmm?
Irving: You think me a fool? There is nothing I wish from the likes of you.
Demon: Alas, that is sad. Very well then, if you wish a battle, you will have it. Let us see if your power matches your boldness, creature.



The final battle with the demon is when it finally cuts loose and starts doing things like buffing itself and actually using magic to attack. It also seems to gain a much greater chance to resist things like Glyph of Paralysis, but that's where the Glyph of Warding comes into play. It doesn't matter if she actually hits harder if Irving gets tougher, after all.



Another new trick for the demon is creating copies of itself to attack in turns. If Irving attacks the wrong one, the real demon heals itself. Fortunately, the real demon always glows orange as it tries to crispy-fry Irving, and he needs only to zap it with a standard magic staff attack to break the illusion.)



(As a last-ditch resort, it will try its damndest (pun unintended) to knock Irving down and away from any protective glyphs he's cast.)

Upon defeat, the demon-



Uh... moving right along, I guess...

The citizens of Redcliffe gather at the docks to weep and pray as they finally get around to burying their dead.



I don't want to take away from the solemnity of this scene, but weren't all of these bodies necrotic and falling apart, before?

Later, back at Castle Redcliffe...



Teagan: Connor is his old self. He does not seem to remember anything, which is a blessing. I suppose we will need to send him to the Circle of Magi's tower for... training, once the war is over. It's so odd to think of the boy as a mage, of all things.

Wait... so Irving didn't take Connor with him? The mages just left him at home and went “Yeah, send him along when you're ready, there's no rush”?

Teagan: Eamon has much to mourn and rebuild, should he recover. But at least he can be thankful that both his son and wife are safe.
Isolde: I owe you my deepest thanks. I had nearly... I can scarcely believe that Connor is the boy he once was.
Teagan: There is still the matter of Jowan. His poisoning Eamon began this whole mess, yet he lives. I must decide what becomes of him. We will hold him for Eamon to decide his fate. If he doesn't recover, Jowan's fate is sealed. What do you think?
Urist: I don't think it's your decision to make.
Teagan: What do you mean? He is responsible for many of the problems here and he is a maleficar as well.
Urist: Exactly. He is the Circle of Magi's responsibility.



So, Irving just went back to the Circle with neither the possessed apostate nor the murderous maleficar in tow, and just told the survivors of the catastrophe that they caused to deal with it themselves. That's amazing.

What could Uldred's problem possibly have been? What, were the templars going to cancel Champagne Tuesdays?

Teagan: But our task is not done yet. Whatever the demon did to my brother, it seems to have spared his life... But he remains comatose. We cannot wake him.



Teagan: That is a possibility, but there is a reason it's still an option. I am not simply grasping at straws.
Isolde:My husband funded the research of a scholar in Denerim- a Brother Genitivi. He has been studying the inscriptions on Andraste's Birth Rock. When Eamon fell ill, I sent the knights to speak to Genitivi. I hoped that he had finally discovered the location of the Urn of Sacred Ashes itself. They were unable to locate Genitivi. In desperation, I sent more knights in search of the brother of some clue of the Urn's location.
Urist: I will see if I can find this relic.
Teagan: Perhaps you could seek out the brother's home in Denerim and see if any other clues remain on his whereabouts. It is the only place to begin the search, I think. I must go to the hall and begin rebuilding. I wish you luck, and may the Maker go with you.

Urist will do it when she's good and ready, thank you.



Ha ha! Eamon is so cheap he doesn't even have a mirror installed in his Vanity!



… It may seem like a kind gesture, but you'll note that Eamon didn't quite bother to actually give the amulet back to Alistair, despite knowing damn well where he was being housed for the past several years. The man was definitely playing the long game, here. And I think we all know which game that was.



… But could Teagan be planning some reindeer games of his own? The plot thickens!

Next Time: The Quest for the Urn of Sacred Ashes

Codices:

Extras:



Zevran Concept Art. No, really.

And so Jowan's saga ends, not with a bang, but a whimper. But what if things had been different?

Well, that wasn't so much of a bang so much as it was a slightly less impotent whimper, but you get the idea.

Ahahaha seriously? I'm not sure that's the best outfit to wear when you want to go assassinate dudes... or on any occasion, honestly.

Maybe that's why he's not a very successful assassin.

Seriously! No one could ever forget seeing a guy like that skulking in the shadows around town, even if they wanted to.

Elves don't even exist, and even then I can't get rid of the sense that Zevran's original design must be terribly racist toward elves.

Last time, on Dragon Age: Origins, Urist saved Redcliffe from the whims of a demon and was rewarded with the ultimate snipe hunt... The search for Andraste's ashes! The arl's family sure know what they want and when they want it, don't they?

Regretably, there was not enough room for everyone in Castle Redcliffe's kennel, so they had to make camp outside of Redcliffe instead.



Alistair: I just wanted to thank you. You went out of your way to save the arl's family and you did it, even though it would have been easier not to. There's been so much death and destruction, it... well, it makes me feel good that at least we were able to save something, no matter how small. I owe the arl that much.
Urist: If we can stop the Blight, we'll save much more.

Urist, being the very picture of ladylike charm and grace, decides not to share her true feelings with regards to the Arl, his family, and what Alistair "owes" them.



Bodahn: Word has it they swarmed the entire area, making off with prisoners and burning down the buildings – and were gone just as quick. I wonder if there's anyone left. I heard some chanters were going to head down south, maybe try to find survivors. I'm not holding out hope, myself.

(After Redcliffe's demon problem is dealt with, Lothering always falls to the Blight, no matter what the Warden did or said or how many sidequests were completed while he/she was there. If Leliana or Sten were not recruited before then, they'll be gone for good, for obvious reasons.)

After a moment of silence for the good, yet ridiculously stupid people of Lothering, Urist happens upon a new face in the camp. Fortunately, it does not have an exclamation point hovering over it.



Emissary Pether: The sincerity of your cause has drawn them together under a common banner. It would not have happened otherwise.
Urist: Do you need anything?
Pether: There are always areas to improve on, Grey Warden. The most useful for my talents are runes.



(Give all unassigned novice runes.)

(After each of the main "Get the Band together" missions in the storyline are completed, a representative from each faction comes to camp and starts asking for supplies so they can help against the Blight. It's generally a good idea to throw some crumbs their way every now and then.)

Meanwhile, Wynne moaned about being tired and Sten moaned about why all of the mages are not dead yet. Urist didn't bother to take notes for her diary. Some people are just so inconsiderate of others it does not bear mentioning.



Zevran, however, will probably get along just fine in Team Urist.



Dogstoevsky: (Hurt whine.)
Urist: Good. He will fell our enemies with his stench.
Wynne: That may be so, but all the same, I would like your permission to bathe him.
Urist: Bathe? Can't you just wave your staff and make him clean?
Wynne: No. That's not what magic is used for. (Sigh) Just... make him sleep over on the other side of the camp. With Alistair. With any luck, that will keep all the stench confined to one small area...



Leliana: It's very nice and it suits you. Simple, not like the elaborate hairstyles we wore in Orlais. They involved flowers, ribbons, jewels... One year, feathers were all the rage, and Lady Elise decided she needed to outdo everyone else, and actually wore live songbirds in her voluminous hair. The chirping was quite charming for a while, but you must realize, terrifed little birdies often have loose bowels.
Urist: Poor birds.
Leliana: Yes, I don't envy them. She never washed her hair. But I was trying to say something nice to you, wasn't I? Oh, forgive me. My mind wanders so.



Leliana: Yes, very much so. I haven't felt this close to anyone in a long time. I really enjoy your company.
Urist: You are a treasured friend, Leliana.
Leliana: Thank you. I'm honored you feel that way.

Forrunately for Urist, Alistair came running up and started to ramble about something, giving her the perfect opportunity to exit the inevitable "AM I IN THE FRIEND ZONE?!" interrogation.



Alistair: No, I... I know that. That's not what I'm talking about. The thing is, I have a sister. A half-sister. I told you about my mother, right? She was a servant at Redcliffe Castle, and she had a daughter... only I never knew about her. I don't think she knew about me, either. They kept my birth a secret, after all. But after I became a Grey Warden I did some checking and... well, I found out she's still alive. In Denerim.

"Goldanna is real?! I thought that was Bann Tegan in drag!" Urist thinks, but does not say.

Urist: Have you contacted her?
Alistair: No, I thought about writing her, but I never did. And then we were called down to Ostagar and I never got the chance. She's the only real family I have left, the only family not also mixed up in the whole royal thing. I've just been thinking that... maybe it's time I went to see her. With the Blight coming and everything, I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to see her. Maybe I can help her, warn her about the danger, I don't know.
Urist: If you want to, we could try.
Alistair: Could we? I'd appreciate that. If something happened to her and I never went to at least see her, I don't know if I could forgive myself. Her name is Goldanna and I think she remarried but still lives just outside the Alienage. If we're in the area, then... well, it's worth a look.

Interesting. It seems that Arl Eamon, in his haste to manipulate Alistair with honeyed lies about the world around him, had fed him two conflicting stories about Goldanna, and did not bother to keep them straight, probably believing that Alistair would be too stupid to notice. But Urist knows one thing for sure: Whatever Goldanna is (unless she turns out to actually be Bann Tegan in drag), she deserves to know that her brother is being used as a witless pawn in some bastard's plot for the throne. If nothing else, maybe she could help Urist talk a bit of sense into him...

Meanwhile, on the (comparatively) saner side of camp:



Morrigan: Ever since we discovered the condition of the mage's tower, I had wondered if it might be recoverable... but I had yet to speak of it to you. How fortunate that you found it on your own. You have my thanks. I will begin study of this tome immediately.
Urist: What do you hope to find within it?
Morrigan: Secrets. My mother has many of them, and this tome represents the one time that they were able to get away from her. I do not intend to squander this opportunity to learn more than Flemeth wished me to know. This should be... interesting.

Well, at least that didn't get uncomfortable or awkward or delve into the ongoing cycle of abuse, and Morrigan remembered her manners. Truly, the small victories count as much as the larger ones.

The next morning, Team Urist marched all the way across Thedas to Denerim...



I'm sick of looking at this map. Let's change the channel!

Meanwhile, in Schemesville...



"... Anyway, Leliana is definitely in the Friend Zone, but don't tell her I said that."



You know, things like this are probably why the Chantry doesn't want homeschooled mages hanging around.



???: Andraste's blood, you're a Grey Warden! Duncan's apprentice.

Urist has never seen this guy before in her life.

???: You killed my friend – and good King Cailan. I demand satisfaction, ser.
Urist: Loghain's charges against the Wardens are false.
Urist: (Persuade) Use your wits. The Wardens would never help the darkspawn.
???: I do not like your tone, ser. But... you may be right. I may regret this, but I cannot
duel someone who may be guiltless. Leave, Warden. If I find proof, we will meet again.

Whoever that mysterious man was, he listened to a logical argument in a reasonable manner, and changed his behaviour as the circumstances warranted. Now Urist is certain she's never met him before.



Wait. That face... that nameplate... it couldn't be...



Gorim: My lady! My Lady Aeducan! Is- is that really you? I knew you survived. I never stopped believing it. And neither did your father. Before I left for the surface, King Endrin sent for me. It was almost more than I could endure, seeing him so. As if he were long dead and rotten, and now merely an empty husk collapsing in on itself. He could not even rise from his bed, and the room stank of decay. He asked me... to give you the Shield of Aeducan. And this letter.
Urist: Why would he do that?
Gorim: Until that moment, I had hated him for believing Bhelen, for exiling you, but if you had seen him... If you had heard his voice... His eyes have haunted me since. If it were possible for a man to die of regret, I think King Endrin did. But... we shouldn't dwell on the past. I can hardly tell you how good it is to see you alive.
Urist: I can't believe I've found you here, of all places.
Gorim: Aye. And far happier in my exile than I ever expected to be.
Urist: Now that we're together, you can join me as a Grey Warden.



Gorim: I was injured in my travels here. My leg healed crooked and I will never fight again. And... I have a new life now. I married into a surface family. My wife is lovely and her father is the best smith in Denerim.



Gorim: Even in Orzammar, we both knew it couldn't last. I was honored by the time we shared, but... You are a princess. I'm not even a warrior anymore. It is wonderful to see you again, my lady. But you must have more important business than hearing about me. Have a look at my father-in-law's crafts. All fine work, and I'll cut you a discount.



(While Gorim can be bargained with by a Warden of any origin, only the Dwarven Noble gets the priveledge of getting a 100% buyback rate for any items he or she might care to sell back to Gorim. This more than makes up for the fact that Gorim's selection is actually kind of sparse. And heavily biased towards Warriors. But... can it make up for a broken heart?)

Slowly, carefully, so not to lose her composure allow any unbecoming and non-regal expression to pass over her face, Urist opens her father's final letter and reads it.




...

"Very well, Gorim. Your service to Our House is duly noted. We did not require your services at this time anyway, since Alistair is more than equal to the task of doing Our will for Us. Or at least he will be. He is a work in progress, you see. It is a long story, and We would not dream of burdening your petty little mind with it.

Speaking of which, We ought to see to this alleged "sister" of his. And yes, We will be using the Royal We whenever you are within earshot, to remind you of your proper station and what you have so carelessly thrown by the wayside. So there."

One dignified exit later...

"'My leg healed crooked' my ass. Have you ever heard such a lame excuse? No pun intended... Now where am I going to find another second?!"

Alistair: Do I seem a little nervous? I am. I really don't know what to expect. I'd like you to be there with me, if you're willing. Or we could... leave, I suppose. We really don't have time to pay a visit, do we? Maybe we should go.
Urist: Fine, let's see if she's home.
Alistair: Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist? My sister. That sounds very strange... "sister." "Siiiister."

"Damn it, Alistair, that's all I heard day in and day out in that house! It would always be "Sister, shut your brazen mouth and listen to our father! You should be more like Bhelen!" Was it ever "Urist, go see what our brother wants this time, you ungrateful wench!" or anything like that? NO! Do you even have any idea how creepy that actually sounds?"

Alistair: Hmmm. Now I'm babbling. Maybe we should go. Let's go. Let's just... go.

"No, we're here and I'm mad already. Let's just get in there and rip that cheap wig off of Bann Tegan's stupid head and be done with it."



Alistair: I'm... not here to have any wash done. My name's Alistair. I'm... well, this may sound sort of strange, but are you Goldanna? If so, I suppose I'm your brother.
Goldanna: My what? I am Goldanna, yes... how do you know my name? What kind of tomfoolery are you folk up to?
Urist: He's telling the truth. Listen to him.
Alistair: Look, our mother... she worked as a servant in Redcliffe Castle a long time ago, before she died. Do you know about that? She-
Goldanna: You! I knew it! They told me you was dead! They told me the babe was dead along with mother, but I knew they was lying!
Alistair: They told you I was dead? Who? Who told you that?
Goldanna: Them's at the castle! I told them the babe was the king's, and they said he was dead. Gave me a coin to shut my mouth and sent me on my way! I knew it!
Alistair: I'm sorry. I... didn't know that. The babe didn't die. I'm him; I'm... your brother.
Goldanna: For all the good it does me! You killed Mother, you did, and I've had to scrape by all this time! That coin didn't last long, and when I went back they ran me off!
Urist: That's hardly Alistair's fault, is it?

Urist is pretty sure by now that Goldanna is not Bann Tegan in a wig, but there's no doubt that she's a bitter, nasty piece of goods. Oh and surprise, surprise, Arl Eamon's name comes up yet again.

Goldanna: And who in the Maker's name are you? Some dwarf carrying all his riches, I expect?
Alistair: Hey! Don't speak to her like that! She's my friend, and a Grey Warden! Just like me!
Goldanna: Ohhh, I see. A prince and a Grey Warden, too. Well, who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me?



Goldanna: I got five mouths to feed, and unless you can help with that, I got less than no use for you.
Alistair: I... I'm sorry. I... I don't know what to say...
Urist: It looks like all she wants is your money.
Alistair: Yes, it really seems that way, doesn't it? I wasn't expecting my sister to be so... I'm starting to wonder why I came.
Goldanna: I don't know why you came, either, or what you expected to find. But it isn't here! Now get out of my house, the both of you!
Urist: Someone ought to cut out that tongue of yours!
Alistair: No! Just... leave her alone. It's her house, after all. Let's just go.

One dignified exit later, Morrigan and Zevran go to "get some water" to "clear their throats." Which leaves herself and Alistair alone, for several uncomfortable moments.



Alistair: This is the family I've been wondering about all my life? That shrew is my sister? I can't believe it. I... I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn't that what family is supposed to do? I... I feel like a complete idiot.
Urist: Everyone is out for themselves. You should learn that.

"Honestly, I don't think he even waited for the sunspots to leave his eyes before he was taking up with that Surface tramp! Do you think she has a beard? Because she probably does. That's what happens when you let the sky touch you, you know. Except for me, of course. That has certainly never happened to me."



Alistair: Let's just go. I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Once Morrigan and Zevran return, it takes Urist a little while to remember the reason why they even came to Denerim in the first place, but as she stumbles out of the bar, the answer hits her:



"Ohhh yeah. Father Genitivi's ashes... may the force be with us. (hic)"

Once Team Urist enters Brother Genitivi's home, they are not greeted by Genitivi, but by his manservant.



Weylon: Brother Genitivi? Why?
Urist: I would like to speak to him about his research.
Weylon: His research? Ah, you mean his search for Andraste's Ashes. He was on the trail for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, yes. Whether he found it... the Maker only knows. I haven't seen Brother Genitivi in weeks. He's sent no word; it's so unlike him. I am afraid something has happened. Genitivi's research into the Urn may have led him into danger.
Urist: Why would searching for the Urn lead him into danger?
Weylon: Perhaps the Urn has been lost for a reason. I pray for Genitivi's safety, but hope dwindles with each passing day. I-I tried to send help, but some knights came from Redcliffe looking for him not long ago. I sent them after Genitivi and they too have disappeared.

Something about this guy rubs Urist the wrong way, and it's not just the booze talking.

Urist: (Cunning) How do you know they disappeared?
Weylon: Well, they... haven't returned, and they sent no word either.
Urist: Doesn't mean they've disappeared.
Weylon: I... I don't know. After what happened to Genitivi, can you blame me for thinking the same thing could happen to the knights? Perhaps I am just a pessimist. I hope I am wrong.
Urist: So where did they go?
Weylon: No, don't ask me where they went. You'll go after them, and what if ill-luck should befall you, too? This search is a curse, on all of us. Some things are not meant to be found. I know that now.
Urist: I am willing to risk it. Tell me where he went.
Weylon: (Sigh) So be it. All he said before he left was that he would be staying at an inn near Lake Calenhad, investigating something in that area.
Urist: What exactly was he investigating?



Weylon: Y-yes, of course he told me, but I also went through his things to see if I could find other clues to his whereabouts.
Urist: (Intimidate) You sound nervous. Hiding something?
Weylon: That's n-not true. I told you everything I know. Brother Genitivi told us- t-told me about the inn and that's all!
Urist: Us? Who's "us?"



Not Weylon: I gave you a chance to turn aside and forget you ever heard of Genitivi and the Urn. But you persisted. Now it has come to this... Andraste forgive me. I do this in Your Name.



He may have been a terrible liar, but rest assured, he was a terrible fighter too.



(I don't know whether it was the graphics, or the considerable amount of beer I had been drinking at the time, but it took me several moments to figure out that those lumps were probably supposed to be hands clasped as if in prayer under that shroud, not Real Weylon's giant rack.)

A thorough search of the house eventually turns up the journal that the imposter mentioned...

Well, at least Urist won't have to keep contriving excuses not to walk past Gorim's stall anymore.

Next Time: Denerim: The Nightlife

Codices:

(Brother Genitivi is the very same Brother Genitivi who has been authoring codices left and right as we progress through the game.)

Extras:

Also...



I don't know what this doll is, and what it would be doing in Genitivi's house, but I've never noticed it before. So now I'm sharing this discovery with all of you.

I like Leilana's fawning over Urist's buzz cut.

Dwarven Dr. Seuss? This game has the most random references sometimes.

Yeah, me too.

Dear Diary,

I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

So... Earlier, I gave that amulet back to Alistair.



Alistair: Then he must have... found the amulet after I threw it at the wall. And he repaired it and kept it? I don't understand, why would he do that?
Urist: I don't know, but it's yours.
Alistair: Thank you. I mean it. I... thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity. I'll need to talk to him about this if he recovers from his... when he recovers, that is. I wish I'd had this a long time ago. Did you remember me mentioning it? Wow. I'm more used to people not really listening when I go on about things.
Urist: Sorry? Did you say something?



Is that how humans give each other the finger? How rude!

When we got to Denerim, we met these guys:



SenileTemplar: Did someone die? I remember a funeral...
Younger Templar: King Cailan died, remember? Along with most of the army at Ostagar. Maker guide them all.
Urist: Why is the cathedral closed?
Senile Templar: "That which you fear... living in the shadow of death alone, I have seen it is only a cloud... passing before the sun."
Younger Templar: The death toll at Ostagar was... staggering. We've had a funeral every day for a lost son or daughter of Denerim, and we've many more yet to hold.
Urist: What's wrong with your friend?

Alistair was all like "Maker's breath, Urist! You can't just ask people that!" but he's probably used to people asking him that anyway.

Younger Templar: He should have retired to Val Royeaux years ago, but he wanted to stay and serve the remainder of his days in his homeland. It's the lyrium that does this.
Urist: Lyrium did this to him? Why doesn't he stop taking it?
Younger Templar: He wouldn't be a templar anymore. He doens't forget who he is, even if he can't remember anything else.
Senile Templar: "Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter."

This actually explained a lot about the stuff that happened at the Circle Tower.



Morrigan: There is nothing "supposed" about it. Flemeth is my mother.
Zevran: Hmm. I was more doubtful of the legend rather than your relationship to this woman. Anyone can claim a name, after all.
Morrigan: You're welcome to ask her, if you ever meet her. You're just her type.
Zevran: Oh? Elven and handsome?
Morrigan: The sort that will never be missed.
Zevran: Sounds intriguing, if you ask me.
Morrigan: You assassin types have a death wish, I see.
Zevran: Only the really good ones.



Kylon: Oh, uh. Can I help you, Warden?
Urist: How do you know who I am?
Kylon: Your likeness was passed around to the senior guardsmen at the Palace. I must say, the sketch didn't do you much justice. Don't worry, even if I believed the "official story" of what happened at Ostagar, I'm no fool.



Kylon: Don't disturb the peace in the market and that's well enough for me.
Urist: Is the Market District really that bad?
Kylon: The lower market isn't deemed important by the captain of the guard, even less with Arl Howe in charge. So when I finally get the new men I request, I get the delightful surprise of discovering they're Lord Such-and-Such's illegitimate, untrained, moronic whelps. So I have a legion of bastards to protect the market from pickpockets, stabbings, and what-not. And Arl Howe's specially picked men are the worst of the lot.
Urist: How are they worse?
Kylon: With the bastards I just have to worry about dicing, the odd bit of drool, or yelling at them too loudly and hurting their poor feelings and then getting chewed out by their noble fathers. But I swear the arl's men are more criminal than teh miscreants we occasionally arrest. Some of them are the criminals we have to arrest. So if your lifeblood isn't draining in the gutters as we speak, don't bother reporting it.
Urist: Actually, do you need any help?
Kylon: I got a pretty popular... establishment... that's crawling with mercenaries. If I send my boys in, someone might get – Maker forbid – hurt. And I'll have to explain to their noble fathers that being a guard is actually dangerous. Do a good job, and I'll see you get some silver in your pockets... maybe even some gold. The name of the whorehouse is the Pearl. Beat down any mercenaries that are out-of-line and send them a message.



I guess the Grey Wardens are starting to get a bit of a reputation (aside from the king-killing thing.)

But the important thing is that we had a non-scandalous excuse to go to the whorehouse.



(The hidden pearl holds the key to resistance. The griffons will rise again.)

... Which is where we were expected, from what I could tell.

Then there was that other mysterious secret meeting with a shadowy secret organization.



(A large shadow nods. A pouch of coins appears in exchange.)

Something told me that trying to talk to whoever was behind that door would just get the door shut in my face. Besides, I got money and that's what's important.



I used to think that Orzammar was big, but Denerim is so big, you need a map to find your way around!

Zevran knew exactly where the Pearl was, and he also marked a bunch of places that also had plenty of lowlifes for us to beat up for Kylon. I didn't mind doing it, because anyone who thinks Loghain is full of shit is fine by me.



Sometimes I forget that Alistair was raised in a monastery.



Maybe she was being dramatic, but the guards in Denerim don't seem like the sharpest knives in the drawer, so who knows?



White Falcon: Get a load of this guard. You're telling us what to do?
Urist: (Intimidate) That's exactly what I'm telling you to do. Now go.
White Falcon: You... you aren't no common guard. You're with Arl Howe, aren't you? Men, let's clear out. Don't... don't want to get on Loghain's bad side, do we?

Getting mistaken for one of Loghain's cronies wasn't really the plan, but for a whorehouse, the Pearl has way too many tables and bookshelves and other things that looked like they'd just get in the way while we tried to fight.



This woman didn't seem to care, though.



Zevran: You know it was just business, Isabela. Business that turned out well for you, I see – you inherited the ship, I take it?
Isabela: Hmph. I suppose I never did like the greasy bastard. And the Siren treats me far better than she ever did him.
Urist: You two know each other?

Zevran: And Isabela, my dear, you will no doubt be amused to discover that I am travelling with a Grey Warden.
Isabela: A Grey Warden? Charmed.

No, I have no idea why Zevran refused to introduce me by my name. Maybe it's an elf thing.

Urist: So you are the captain of a ship?
Isabela: Yes. The Siren's Call – my pride and joy. She's seen me from my own Rivain and the isle of Llomerryn to the coast of Par Vollen. All I need is my ship, and the wind at my back. And once my men have had their fill of the pleasures of dry land, we will be off again.



Isabela: Heh. I'm not going anywhere near the Blight, and you'd get away too if you had any sense in that pretty head of yours. The way I see it, I can sail as far away from it as I need to, even to the other side of the far Anderfels. The sea will look after her own.
Urist: Did you learn to fight like that on your travels?
Isabela: I have picked up skills from many different places and turned them into a method distinctly my own. Speed, not strength, is what is essential. I call myself a duelist because I honed my skills in duels with warriors I encountered over the years.
Urist: Will you teach me how to be a duelist?

Now Diary, you and I both know that the weird, beady-eyed Raven that always follows me around everywhere already taught me Dueling, but if I had told Isabela that, it would have sounded crazy. Besides, it's probably better to learn that kind of thing from someone who can actually hold a knife.

Isabela: Ha! An unusual request coming from a fearsome slayer of darkspawn. I am flattered that you wish to learn from me, sweet thing. It will take you years of practice to achieve true mastery of the style, but I can teach you the basics. I do, however, wish to get to know my potential student better, so we shall call for a drink and you will honor me with a game.



So we played for a while, but it didn't take long before I noticed something suspicious.



Isabela: Hmm? You mean this card? Your memory is impressive. You have proven yourself quick and resourceful, and I would be honored to pass my skills on to you.

So that's how I became a double-duelist.

But that wasn't exactly the reason I came to the Pearl in the first place, was it?



Sanga: You'll have to go one at a time, I'm afraid. Our rooms aren't quite big enough to share between so many. But we can discuss that in a moment. So what would you like me to show you? The men or the women? Or some of both, if you prefer.
Urist: A poster suggested I'd find a meeting of friends here.
(She scowls, and makes a subtle motion toward the back rooms, as though not wanting to alert the people inside.)

At first I thought she just didn't like orgies because she hadn't figured out a way to charge people by the head (see what I did there? Ha ha!) but the truth turned out to be something completely different.



I kind of wanted to say the nug thing, but everyone knows that nugs can't fly.



Faedan: Another Grey Warden supporter.
Elf: Not just a supporter, Faedan. That's a Grey Warden. She's the one Arl Howe is looking for.
Faedan: Our trap landed a Warden? You've got one chance to surrender.
Urist: You work for that bastard? You're all dead. (Attack.)



Before she let me pick one, I got a long lecture.



Sanga: You see these lovely gentlemen by the door? If you don't play nicely with my people, these boys will have words with you. You'll pay up front. Forty silver. I'm getting tired of throwing soldiers off the pier for "forgetting" their coin. We're a crafthall, not a public charity. So, shall I let you get acquainted?



Look, I didn't notice that so much blood got under my armour until I had already taken it all off, and I'd already paid up front, so I wasn't going to back out! Besides, the whore didn't seem to mind...

Some time later, we started to head back toward the Market District.



Kylon: I don't know how, but you got them to leave with no fuss at all. The Pearl's "workers" will-
White Falcon Captain: Nobody gives orders to my men but me. A little lesson in respect is in order.
Kylon: I see. Don't bother sparing these louts. Things are about to get messy.



Did you know that Sergeant Kylon is immortal, Diary? I was surprised too. I guess that's why he doesn't care about blowing off Arl Howe's orders or pissing off Loghain.



Kylon: Here's the payment I promised. I might have more work, if you're interested. But I'm heading back to the Market District. The back alleys are just too dangerous for me.



The White Falcon leader was carrying this axe around with him. Nobody in our group really likes axes that much, but apparently this one has a story about it.

We wandered around in the alleys for a while, slaughtering bandits to collect more cash. How else am I going to bankroll this war?



After what happened last time I wasn't really trying to open another evil phylactery, but I guess the damn thing just slipped out of my hand, and before you know it...



Despite the ambush, it was way easier to take this one down.

Then we found a dead body. Except this one wasn't our fault.



According to his journal, he died trying to take down some blood mages. Who then stripped his body and dumped it outside, for some reason. It looked like all of his blood was still inside of him, so we didn't know what to make of it at first.



We did end up finding blood mages when we went to look. So then we figured as long as we were here anyway...



I had to go ahead first and de-activate every trap in the place, or else Zevran would have immediately run directly into it. I'm starting to think that Zevran is not very good at his job.



This setup was pretty funny. I nearly didn't get out alive, but it was worth it!



Blood Mage Leader: Was it luck or providence? No matter, you will not survive... this!

We survived it. We didn't get a reward from Kylon or anybody else for finishing off the blood mages, but there were a lot of treasures in the house with the world's largest basement.



Then we gave whoshisname a proper burial. I guess this must be what the well is here for, because none of the priests or templars complained or tried to stop us.



Last, but not least, we found this little shop in the market district... Wade's Emporium.



Herren: You looking for fine armor?
Urist: Tell me about Wade.
Herren: You're obviously not from around here. Wade is possibly the most brilliant armorsmith in all of Ferelden.



Wade: These piles of rust droppings you force me to make are worthless compared to their work. You never let me have the time, the materials, to make something special!
Herren: Customers expect their armor in a timely fashion. Not years late like the last time-
Wade: That happened once. Just once, and you never let it drop.
Urist: Smiths of my people pass work over generations. Centuries.
Wade: Centuries? You hear that, you young mutt, centuries! What's an extra year here and there to make something wonderful.



They were a little bit... odd... but maybe if we ever need some special work done, I might look them up.

AND WE ARE NOT BUYING DWARVEN CRAFTS BECAUSE I'M STILL MAD.

Next Time: Haven

Codices:

That's the same Isabela from 2, isn't it?

The very same! Depending on what happened in the file you import into DA2, she'll even mention some of the things that happened to her in Ferelden at certain points in the game. (Including a meta-joke about how everyone looked different "in those days.")

This is both disturbing and amusing at the same time.

One had to slip through eventually.

I have to say that Herren and Wade have some of the best banter in the game. I also love that you can carry so many body bags and just slip them into the well next to the chantry, it makes a nice sploosh sound too.

Despite Isabella being comically lustful, which made me feel silly and slightly awkward when playing, there's a great scene that you can unlock with her under the right circumstances. No, it's not that one, the other one.

Last time, on Dragon Age: Origins, Urist discovered that Brother Genitivi had indeed been onto something with the search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, and was last seen in a small town called Haven. A town not on any maps, which few people have ever even heard of.

Sounds legit! Let's camp!



Morrigan: 'Tis... not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the power that she commands. But this is not it.
Urist: Yet you look disturbed.
Morrigan: Disturbed? Yes, perhaps that is the right word. One thing in particular within her writings disturbs me. Here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived for centuries.
Urist: A spell of immortality?
Morrigan: If only 'twere so. Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetime. There are stories of these many Witches of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one and always wondered why not.



Morrigan: Do not be sorry. I am not. I am angry. There is only one possible response to this: Flemeth needs to die. I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain and I need your help to do it.
Urist: Why do you need my help?
Morrigan: Because if she is slain while I am near, I am not certain that she will not simply be able to take possession of me right there. So obviously I cannot be the one to do it.
Urist: Very well. I'll help you, if I can.
Morrigan: Then what needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth's hut in the Korcari Wilds... without me. Confront her and slay her quickly. I doubt she will truly be dead even then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power... if that is even possible. The thing I must have is her true grimoire. With it I can defend against her power in the future. Everything else in her hut is yours.

So Morrigan gets her freedom, and an arcane tome of untold power, once the property of the most powerful witch in the world. Urist gets... a swamp-shack filled with old lady junk and moody goth poetry.

Urist: Do I have a time limit on this?
Morrigan: Not really. But the sooner the better, no?

So, slot that in the maybe pile for now.



Leliana: My mother was from Denerim and I consider myself a Ferelden. Mother served an Orlesian noblewoman who lived here when Orlais ruled. When Orlais was defeated and the common folk began to resent the presence of any Orlesian, the lady returned to Orlais. She took my mother with her. I was born in Orlais, and did not set foot in Ferelden till much later. Mother was always telling me stories of her homeland; I think she missed it.
Urist: Was she not happy in Orlais?
Leliana: She wasn't unhappy. We had a good life, and she liked Orlais well enough. I loved it, though. Val Royeaux was so vibrant... colorful. Mother died when I was very young. Lady Cecilie let me stay with her. I had no one else. She was quite old then, and she had me study music and dance to entertain her. It is unfair, that I have more memories of Cecilie than my mother.
Urist: Do you remember nothing of your mother?
[b]Strangely, the only thing I really remember of Mother was her scent. She kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes. Small, white Fereldan wildflowers with a sweet fragrance. Mother called them Andraste's Grace. They were very rare in Orlais.

(As you may remember, Urist has already found some Andraste's Grace flowers for Leliana.)

Urist: Do you miss anything about Orlais?
Leliana: I miss Val Royeaux. Unlike other cities, where the people are the lifeblood and the character, Val Royeaux was her own person, and her people little more than decorations. There was always music in Val Royeaux, streaming from the many windows – quiet refrains and triumphant choruses... and always, floating above that all, the Chant, coming from the Grand Cathedral. It was magnificent.
Urist: Orzammar is magnificent too.
Leliana: Yes, I'm sure it is, but every city has a different personality. It is hard to describe. You have to be there. Of course, there are good things and bad things about Orlais, like anywhere else. Sometimes I miss it dearly, and sometimes I am glad I am rid of it. And you will laugh at this but I miss the fine things I had in Orlais.
Urist: What sorts of things?
Leliana: Dresses... fine dresses and furs. And shoes, of course. One can't mingle with nobility with bad shoes, you see.



Leliana: When I left Orlais, the fashion was shoes with delicate, tapered heels and embellishments in the front – a ribbon perhaps, or embroidery. In soft colors of course, it was spring.
Urist: Wouldn't that be hard to walk in?
Leliana: I wouldn't want to run in it, or have to enter battle, but for lounging in a lady's sitting room? Perfect. The shoes made in Orlais were exquisite. Not at all like these clunky fur-lined leather boots you have in Ferelden. Ugh... just look at them. They're sturdy shoes, but sometimes, a girl just wants to have pretty feet. Oh, I could talk about shoes all day, but we have things to do, don't we?

Wynne, meanwhile, seemed troubled about something.



Wynne: Ah, yes, Connor. Of course. The first time I saw an abomination, my blood turned to ice. It was months before the nightmares stopped. It was the knowledge that I could easily become one of them that frightened me the most.
Urist: Seeing the monster that you could be is unsettling, yes.
Wynne: One slip... all it takes is one slip, and everything you are is simply gone... replaced by madness. And there is no turning back. Or at least that's what they say.
Urist: You have doubts?
Wynne: Of late I have begun to wonder if... if there is a way an abomination can be... cured. Or if a mage could be so possessed and still retain their sanity. Their humanity.
Urist: If one retains one's humanity, one is not an abomination.
Wynne: Yes... it is madness and cruelty that define abominations. If those are lacking, if the mage remembers the person they truly are then... they are not an abomination. I never saw that. Thank you for showing me another way of looking at it.

… Urist knew there was something off about Petra.



Zevran: All right, but I get to stare at you luridly while you do so.
Urist: Do you actually enjoy being an assassin?
Zevran: And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected. You are feared. The authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at. As for the killing part, well... some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?
Urist: You've never killed an innocent?
Zevran: Now there's an interesting word, “innocent.” How many men do you know who claim to be truly innocent? But if you're talking generalities, such as children and relatives and bystanders and such... never on purpose, but it happens. It's unfortunate, but death comes to us all. If not me, then some wasting disease. Or a fall down the stairs. Or at the hands of a darkspawn. It's all relative in the end.
Urist: That's a very practical attitude.
Zevran: “Death happens,” as we like to say. And when I get paid for it, death happens more often. As far as enjoying the act of killing itself, why not? There is a certain artistry to the deed, the pleasure of sinking your blade into their flesh and knowing that their life is in your hands.
Urist: I know what you mean.
Zevran: There are many things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as expendable commodity, the rules... oh so many rules!



Zevran: I mean professionally. Or maybe you mean professionally, as well? Perhaps you intend to peddle my services to bored Ferelden noblewomen? Of course all these thoughts are moot. Chances are still good that you and I will perish, eaten by darkspawn or slain by the Crows at some point. Very gruesomely, I imagine. But it is pleasant enough to chat about. Come, let's move on while our boots still have some wear in them.



Sten: (Angry snarl)
Dogstoevsky: (Vicious growl)
Sten: (Loud, terrifying roar)
Dogstoevsky: (He barks fiercely and lunges at Sten)
Sten: You are a true warrior, and worthy of respect.
Dogstoevsky: (Happy bark!)



Earlier, some Chantry wag decided to post a request for someone to help Loghain's army against a “rebellion.” Urist decides to go give them some help, all right...



Loghain Fanboy: Loghain is the regent, he demands your-
Loghain Hater: We're not Orlesian lick-spittles; we owe no man our allegiance. Leave!
Fanboy: Take their lands by force, men. Regent's orders.



… HELP THEM TO AN EARLY GRAVE! MWAHAHAHAHA!



“... Did you see that one guy Alistair whacked so hard his head came off? I sure hope someone got a picture of that and didn't miss it because that was awesome.”




Wynne: For a moment there I thought I was... I thought it was all over...
Urist: You need rest, that's all.
Wynne: I... I will explain everything, when we are back at camp. Now is not the time.



Well, Team Urist only just arrived, after all. Wynne's medical emergency will just have to wait for a more convenient time.