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

Dear Diary,



Guess what! I can summon a wolf now! That helpful raven is also really good at teaching people how to be Rangers.

Dogstoevsky was jealous for a while, but then I explained that Wolfie was nowhere near as smart or as tough as he was, so he felt better after that. Then I remembered that I hadn't taken Dogstoevsky anywhere for a while, so I felt a little bit guilty.



Then Leliana started wearing some armour that I certainly don't remember buying for her, or picking off of a darkspawn corpse, but when I asked her about it she told me that I looked even more lovely than ever. She was right, of course, but don't think that I didn't notice that she was blatantly changing the subject.

I wonder if it had something to do with what happened the other day when we were coming back from the Frostback Mountains...



See, a bunch of bandits jumped us out of nowhere, which seems to happen a lot these days, so that wasn't a big deal. But when I went to finish off the leader of the pack...



Leliana: He is no common bandit. None of them were. Their weapons and armour are of fine make, and they are well-trained. You know what I am talking about, don't you? Who are you?
Clancy: Someone who regrets taking you on. Was told it would be an easy job. Kill the little red-haired girl, deal with the others as we pleased.
Leliana: Kill the... you came to kill me?
Urist: Who is trying to kill Leliana?
Clancy: It don't pay to ask why someone wants someone else dead. I just need to know what to do, and where to get my money. Ha, money! I'll be lucky to get away with my life, it seems. Maybe we could work something out? You'll like the idea.
Leliana: Speak quickly.
Clancy: I've no real quarrel with you. Wasn't me that wanted you dead, but I know how you can find the one who does.
Urist: Your life for information then.
Clancy: I have some directions written down on how to get to the house. It's in Denerim. Here... it's the best I can do.
Leliana: Thank you. Now leave. I never want to see you again.
Urist: Yes, go. Be grateful for your life.
Clancy: Don't worry. I'll not trouble you no more.



Leliana: I thought the same. Maybe someone saw me... maybe she's finally found me and wants to finish what she started.
Urist: What do you wish to do?
Leliana: She needs to answer for what she's done to me. If we are ever in Denerim, I would like to seek her out.
Urist: We'll go as soon as possible.



She did seem to be quieter than usual after that.

It must have been Dramatic Confession Day that day, because soon after that, Wynne wanted to talk to me about something.



Wynne: You should know that... something happened to me at the tower, before you came along. You spoke to Petra, did you not? She told you I saved her from a demon. I... did, but I did not survive that encounter.
Urist: Uh. This case of death is taking a while to kick in then.
Wynne: Let me explain fully. I engaged a very powerful demon to rescue Petra. It sapped me of all of my energy and will, and left me drained. It took everything I had to defeat it, and when I was done I no longer had the strength to keep my heart beating. I remember my life ebbing away; everything receded from me... sound, light... I remember being enveloped in complete, impenetrable darkness. And then I sensed a presence, enfolding me and cradling me, whispering quietly to me. The sensation is impossible to describe. I was being... held back, firmly, but gently, as a mother would a child eager to slip from her grasp. I felt life and warmth flowing through my veins again. I began to be aware of small sounds, and the discomfort of my hip pressing into the cold stone of the tower floor.
Urist: So you were never really completely dead then.
Wynne: The Fade comtains spirits both benevolent and malicious. The benevolent spirits seldom make themselves known, because they want nothing from mortals, unlike the demons. It was one of those spirits that saved me. Without it, I would be dead. And it has not left me. It is with me, even now, bonded to me. You see, I am supposed to be dead. It is the spirit that is keeping me in this world, and this is not the way of things. Perhaps the spirit did not expect this but it is weakening, gradually. I am living on borrowed time.
Urist: Then we will make the best of that time.
Wynne: Yes, that we will.

At the time I figured I should probably find the time to write Petra a letter and ask her just how hard Wynne whacked her head against that cold stone tower floor when she passed out. More on that later, though. Because Sten had a confession of his own!



Urist: Um... thanks, I guess. So will you tell me now why you were caged?
Sten: I caged myself. A weak mind is a deadly foe, as you are no doubt aware.
Urist: Are you saying you put yourself in that cage?
Sten: I know that my failures were my own. I told you before that I was sent here. I was not sent alone. I came to your lands with seven of the Beresaad- my brothers- to seek answers about the Blight. We made our way across the Fereldan countryside without incident, seeing nothing of the threat we were sent to observe. Until the night we camped by Lake Calenhad. They came from everywhere. The earth beneath our feet, the air above us, our own shadows harbored the darkspawn. I saw the last of the creatures cut down, too late. I fell.
Urist: What happened to the other qunari?
Sten: I was told no others survived. I don't know how long I lay on the battlefield among the dead, nor do I know how the farmers found me. I only know that when I woke, I was no longer among my bretheren. And my sword was gone from my hand.
Urist: You probably dropped it on the battlefield.
Sten: Perhaps. I searched for it. And when that failed, I asked my rescuers what had become of it.
Urist: And then?



Sten: I knew they didn't have the blade. They had no reason to lie to me. I panicked. Unthinking, I struck them down.
Urist: You panicked over a lost blade?
Sten: That sword was made for my hand alone. I have carried it from the day I was set into the Beresaad. I was to die wielding it for my people. Even if I could cross Fereldan and Tevinter unarmed and alone to bring my report to the arishok, I would be slain on sight by the antaam. They would know me as soulless, a deserter. No soldier would cast aside his blade while he drew breath.
Urist: Couldn't you search for it?
Sten: If I knew where to look, it would be in my hand now.
Urist: Where did you fight the darkspawn?

I know that Sten had just finished saying that it was Lake Calenhad, but I wanted to let him come to the proper answer by himself so he could feel a sense of accomplishment, and then feel even more accomplished when he discovered that the best place to look for something you lost is in the last place you remember seeing it. In his own way, Sten is almost as high-maintenance as Alistair is.

Sten: Near Lake Calenhad.
Urist: Don't worry, we'll find it.
Sten: Perhaps those words are empty, but... thank you all the same.

After that, it seemed like drama time was over, so I started giving everyone the ton of gifts that I had gathered up in the Frostback Mountains. Zevran was especially impressed with his gift.



Zevran: I don't know how you knew I was missing my homeland, but this does the trick nicely. Thank you.
Urist: What are you waiting for? Try them on.
Zevran: But I'm not finished admiring them, yet! Can you smell that? Like rotting flesh. Just like back in Antiva City. Now if you could only find me a prostitute or two, a bowl of fish chowder and a corrupt politician, I'd really feel like I was home! And they fit, as well! Marvelous!



He even insisted upon wearing them into battle, so it was a good thing that they were actually decent, as boots go.



Alistair agreed to teach all of the other Warrior how to be a Templar, but I don't know if that's really the right fit for Sten. Ancestors know I wouldn't want to offend his qunariness by asking. He's killed for less.



Dogstoevsky: (Happy bark!)
(He goes back to digging.)
Urist: It's going to take some time, you know.
[b](He continues digging.)
Urist: Well, good luck with that then.



Arl Eamon sent a representative to the camp too. He wanted money to finish outfitting his troops properly because Cheapass McTightfist told them that they would have to “self finance” any special equipment they needed. Big surprise, there. I tossed him a few silvers, so he seems to be happy for now.



The next day, the first thing we did after breaking camp was march back over to Lake Calenhad to see if there was some trace of Sten's sword. It occurred to me that it would be one hell of a long walk from Lake Calenhad to Lothering for those farmers, especially since they could have just dumped Sten's ass at Redcliffe or even the Spoiled Princess, but it's not as if Sten had any reason to lie either.



I was impressed at first by how well this was going, but that was before the scavenger opened his mouth.



Stinky Pete Why, you looking to buy one?
Urist: No, but my very large, angry friend here is.
Stinky Pete: Ah... is he? Well... that's... see I'd like to sell you one, but I don't... er... have any myself. I got part of a glove the wolves didn't chew too badly, though! I think it was a glove, anyway. I know. Don't say it. I got cheated. I knew the guy who was here before me. He sold me this spot. Said he'd found giants and all kinds of crazy valuables. He didn't mention that he'd taken everything but the bones and the dirt already. His name's Faryn. Squirrelly little bastard, if you ask me. Which you didn't. But I said it anyway.
Urist: Where is he now?
Stinky Pete: He was going to Orzammar, he said. I imagine he's gotten there by now. If you find him, tell him I sent you! It'll scare the piss out of him. Heh.

Did I mention that I found the time to write in you today because Sten won't stop hounding me about when we're going to Orzammar to look for his sword, Diary? Thankfully, all I had to do was hide in my tent and scream “DON'T COME IN! I'M NAKED!” and that's kept him away for hours. I am getting kind of hungry, though... But anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah, I found one of those war widows to which the Blackstone Irregulars wanted me to break the bad news.




I guess I should have known that would happen.



As I'm sure you will remember, Brother Genitivi promised me a reward for rescuing him and helping him find the Urn, so obviously the next stop was going to be Denerim. Also, Leliana needed to settle this thing with Marjolaine and rip her fucking guts out for betraying her and exiling her and making her father hate her and chasing her boyfriend away into the arms of some casteless tramp to peddle bracelets and chamberpots in the market like some sky-touched merchant and UGH.

Morrigan said that I was projecting my own issues onto Leliana and I told her to shut up because I wasn't! Then I made both her and Sten go back to camp because they were annoying me!



We were attacked on the road to Denerim, but it wasn't until after the battle that I figured out why he seemed so familiar...



It's a good thing that Wynne wasn't there at the time, because if she had been, she would probably still be nagging about the Dangers of Magic and how it is Not A Toy (Except For When My Imaginary Friends Save Me From Death, Then it is Awesome.)

When we got to Denerim, Leliana reminded me that she wanted to go confront Marjolaine, but since the Chantry was on our way, I wanted to tell the priests that the bandit situation they were complaining about was dealt with, so I stopped by there first.



I somehow got the feeling that this one Sister was thinking about something really hard...



Justine: Oh, my pardon, just thinking aloud. Are you here for the chanter's board?
Urist: Who are you?
Justine: I am Sister Justine, curator of the reliquary of this chantry. Ahh- and pride, again. It is hard to live up to the example of Andraste.
Urist: What's a curator do?
Justine: The archivist tends the books and I tend the sacred relics. I also search for more to add to our collection, which is more difficult than it sounds.

So in addition to all of their other jobs, human priests also do the same job that Shapers do in Orzammar. Or something close enough to it. That reminded me that I still hadn't found anyone to look at the scrolls I'd found in the Ruined Temple, and Brother Genitivi hadn't seemed to know what to do with them.

Urist: I found these scrolls in a Tevinter ruin.
Justine: Really? Pardon my... incredulity. I would like to examine them, in any event.
Urist: Be careful with them. They seem ancient.
Justine: Let me see... The scrolls are old, no question. And the script... It's written in cipher.... Early believers used them to keep their writings safe from the Tevinter magus. These... could be authentic. Please, let me examine it.
Urist: Here you go.
Justine: I need parchment, quill and ink. What was the trick to that cipher, again?

Justine took the scrolls into the chantry to examine them, but she returned after only a few minutes.

Justine: I examined your scrolls. I know a few of the early Chantry ciphers, but I am not fully familiar with this one. The bits I have made out... This may be an account of Maferath's final days and perhaps more.
Urist: Maferath- as in Andraste's husband?
Justine: I know; it's remarkable. The same Maferath who betrayed our prophet and saw her burn alive in Minrathous. If we could get a real translation, well, it could be the find of our lifetime!
Urist: How long will it take to decipher?
Justine: It could take months; the ciphers were designed to be difficult for the magisters to decrypt. Who knows what secrets we can uncover? What truths we can find? Here is all of the allowance I have for acquisitions. Take it and go. A thousand, thousand blessings!



So we made someone's day and got a ton of cash for barely doing anything. That always feels good.

Then as we came to the Marketplace, Dogstoevsky did something cute.



Boy: Puppy!
Urist: Uh...
(Dogstoevsky wags his tail.)
Urist: If he comes with us, he's going to have to fight darkspawn.
Dogstoevsky: (Argumentative bark!)
Urist: Then you should return him to his parents, yes?
Dogstoevsky: (Low whine)

I promise I won't fill your pages with nothing but cute pet stories, but I think you'll agree that we're going to need some cathartic action going on here in a moment when I tell you about what happened with Marjolaine.



Leliana seemed to recognize the address, which I thought was kind of strange.



I dropped my paints while we were fighting, so I could only make a picture of the aftermath of slaughtering some qunari mercenaries. I checked their swords, but it looked like they were just using the commonplace Fereldan stuff that every other mercenary around here uses. Plus, now that I think of it, Sten probably has some way of telling his sword from someone else's sword anyway.

In the next room, we found Marjolaine. And it seemed as if she had been waiting for Leliana to come.



Leliana: Spare me the pleasantries. I know you're-
Marjolaine: Oh, you must excuse the shabby accomodations... I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with? This country smells like wet dog. Everywhere. I cannot get the smell out. Even now it is in my hair, my clothes... ugh.
Urist: We killed your guards.
Marjolaine: Qunari mercenaries. Expendable. And this way, I don't have to pay them. Good for the both of us. But I am not unarmed, or unguarded. I have more men watching, ready to attack on my word, so perhaps we just talk now, yes?



Leliana:What happened to make you hate me so? Why do you want me dead so badly?
Marjolaine: Dead? Nonsense. I know you, my Leliana. I know what you are capable of. Four, five men... you can dispatch easily. They were sent to give you cause to come to me. And see? Here you are.
Urist: You could have just sent her a letter.
Leliana: Ignore what she says. She is lying. I know how she works. What are you up to, Marjolaine? Why are you in Ferelden?
Marjolaine: In truth? You have knowledge that you can use against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be. Did you think I would not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana? “What is she up to?” I thought. “The quiet life, the peasant clothes, hair ragged and messy like a boy... this is not her.” You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched... but no letters were sent. No messages. You barely spoke to anyone. Clever, Leliana, very clever. You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry, so suddenly. What conclusion should I draw? You tell me.



Maybe it wasn't my place, but sometimes when a sick burn pops into my head I can't not say it.

Marjolaine: Oh, is that what you think? If I were you, I would believe nothing she says. Not a one. She will use you. You look at her and you see a simple girl- a friend, trusting and warm. It is an act.
Leliana: I am not you, Marjolaine. I left because I didn't want to become you.
Marjolaine: Oh, but you are me. You cannot escape it. No one will understand you the way I do, because we are one and the same. Do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the game; you reveled in the power it gave you. You cannot change or deny this.
Urist: Let us just deal with her and go.
Leliana: You will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjolaine. I want you out of my life, forever.
Urist: You know she will hound you as long as she lives.
Leliana: You've caused too much pain for too many, Marjolaine. It ends here.
Marjolaine: And you think you can kill me, like that? I made you, Leliana. I can destroy you just as easily.



The last of Marjolaine's qunari mercenaries came running out to fight alongside her, even though they had to have heard that bit about how they were “totally expendable,” seeing as that house had really thin walls. I guess when she did bother paying them, she paid really well.

Also, I know it looks like she was hocking a loogie at Leliana to send her flying, but that was actually one of her bard songs.



Leliana: I... I need some time to myself. We... will talk later.

Before we left, though, I wanted to see if Marjolaine had any interesting secrets tucked away anywhere.



The only thing worth taking in the entire house was this chest.

(It is impossible to open this chest during Leliana's Song because Marjolaine is always standing in front of it.)



Almost all of it was good, except for the manuscript. Apparently Marjolaine had a thing for abusing parenthetical notation.



I sold some old stuff to Gorim, and bought a backpack from him too, but the rest of his wares just didn't do anything for me. I decided to give Wade and Herren another chance.



Back in Orzammar, just for the hell of it sometimes, I would ask the smiths to make some random impossible thing just to see how they'd react, like unicorn underwear or a gryphon-feather hat. I figured a human smith would just about soil his drawers if I tried to make him forge something out of dragon scales.



Herren: How did you get...? No, I don't want to know.
Wade: Alas, traveler, I must confess I have not the skill. Why, oh Maker, do you torment me? If you find drake scales, ser, and if I could practice then- one day, ONE DAY- I could make a fine set of armor for you.
Herren: Oh... There, there, uhh, Master Wade. He does get terribly emotional at times. Come again.

I hadn't seen someone cry like that in a long time, but somehow it just wasn't the same outside of Orzammar. I decided to throw him a bone. Or should I say... a scale?



Yeah, that wiped out Sister Justine's reliquary allowance and then some, but I was getting kind of worried that I wouldn't see this stuff before the Blight rampaged over Denerim if I didn't grease the wheels a bit.

Besides, that Herren guy was making bitchface at me so I wanted to impress upon him that I am a woman of a certain station.

Wade: Excellent. You won't regret it. Think of the possibilities, Herren; think of it!



I think it worked.

Finally, we got around to visiting Genitivi. He hadn't hired another manservant yet, but he was in good spirits for someone who had to clean corpse muck out of his house all by himself.



Genitivi: I've written to the Chantry, telling them of your adventures. They are interested in having me lead an expedition! What do you think of that? I'm quite excited.
Urist: That's great news, Brother Genitivi.
Gentivi: You made all this possible. I could never thank you quite enough, but I'm certainly going to try. Here, take this reward. I want you to have it. It will certainly do more good in your hands than lying around in this dusty house, eh? And if I can ask, have you... gone to see the arl? I have heard no news.
Urist: Arl Eamon has been cured by the Ashes.
Genitivi: The Maker smiles on us. Thank you. And now if you will excuse me, I have so much to prepare for. I wish Weylon were here to see all this.

I actually had a lot of questions about the Ashes that had been bothering me for a while. Considering that the Maker was just some human invention that they made up because they weren't one with the Stone, how did those Ashes actually work? Were they magic? Did that mean that Andraste was actually a mage, if the ashes that were her physical remains had magical properties? I'm not an expert on magic, but that would explain why she had visions and heard voices and made “miracles” happen when she was around, wouldn't it? And if she was a mage, does that mean that the Chantry's faith and sermons are all founded on what are horribly ironic misunderstandings, at best? Would Sister Justine's decipherings uncover the truth, or would she be compelled, whether morally or otherwise, to destroy the evidence that would shake her religion to its very core and make a mockery of her life's work?



But I didn't want Genitivi to get mad and take back my reward, so I decided to keep my questions between me and you.

Wade still hadn't finished making my armour yet, so I decided to make another trip to the Pearl. Isabela had moved on, just as she said she would, but there was still a lot to do there, if you know what I mean, and I think you do...



Sanga: Oooh, I like the sound of that. I think we have what you're looking for.



... And that is why I will never say “Surprise me” ever again.

At least that took up more than enough time for Wade to be finished. I really don't want to know how.



Wade: And it's garbage. I wouldn't let a festering swine wear it.
Herren: Wade, it's amazing. I don't see anything wrong with it.
Wade: Are you blind as well as stupid? The leg-guards are too tight; it'll chafe. The dye isn't even- look here, I see a splotch. It's garbage, I say.
Herren: It's fine, truly. It's a work of art. Here, wear it well. Now kindly leave.



It really was quite good. Too bad it didn't come with a helmet, because my hood looks kind of stupid attached to nothing like that.

In fact, it was so inspiring that it reminded me about that weird invisible baby metal that I had been carrying around for a while. And I knew just the man I wanted to see about it, too.



I didn't give it to Wade because some things need the proper dwarven treatment... Well, dwarven-style treatment, anyway.

Mikhael: This... This is star metal. If you give this to me, I will craft for you a thing of legend.
Urist: A star-metal longsword. That sounds perfect.
Mikhael: And so it shall be...

And by some things, I mean a proper kingly blade for Alistair. He just started moaning about his low self esteem again when I mentioned it, but I need to get him used to the idea by the time we have to go to the Landsmeet with that horrible Arl Eamon, and this is just the fastest way to do that.



Besides, look at this thing. Amazing! I would go Warrior for that sword if I could. I would almost go Qunari for that sword.

Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure Sten is still out there, still waiting for me to get dressed, so what else can I write about? I'm almost out of parchment and my hand is getting cramped...

Next Time: Urist remembers something else to write about.

Codices:

Dear Diary,

Yep, Sten is still out there.

Fortunately, I found a bun and some cheese under my bedroll, so I won't starve tonight. And I remembered that I hadn't written about my greatest adventure yet, yet. Of course, I will have to write it down for posterity so that future generations of dwarfkind will know all about the inspiring story of Urist Aeducan: Princess, Grey Warden, Kingmaker, Master Tactician, and of course, Golem-Finder.

But I am getting ahead of myself...



After we left Warden's Peak, we were about to make camp when we got ambushed by some darkspawn emissaries.



We were all burnt, and it hurt a lot, but Wynne got up as if it was nothing...



... And then heal-blasted the rest of us back to consciousness.



It felt fizzy at first, but then it just tingled. I guess that's how you know that magic is working.



Wynne: I didn't know I could either. I called forth the spirit that sustains me, so that it could lend us aid. I did not realize it would take this much out of me. It seemed a good idea at the time, if a little rash- I think it may have weakened the spirit a little.
Urist: That makes sense.
Wynne: Anyway, I feel quite all right now, and it seems that my little trick could be useful in a pinch.
Urist: Are you sure you can control... that thing?
Wynne: It's not a demon that requires controlling. Really, you need not fear it. I promise I'll be careful. And thank you, your concern is touching.

Before long, we arrived at Sulcher's Pass, which was ridiculously out of the way of everything, but would probably take you to Redcliffe eventually, if you really felt like you needed the walk. Don't tell the others, but I think I might have read the map wrong that day...



Felix had a half-unpacked caravan with just a few scattered goods, and it looked like he was worried about something.




Felix: Of course, that's part of my problem, isn't it? Mule got spooked by a wisp and it ran off into the woods. Now what do I do?
Urist: Just what are you doing out here?
Felix: Waiting for my helper to find the damned mule, of course. It's freezing! Oh... I suppose you meant why am I out here? As in this part of the country. Allow me to introduce myself. Felix de Grosbois, merchant and entrepreneur, at your service.
Urist: I am Urist, pleased to meet you.
Felix: I don't normally take this route, but with the war I was hoping for a bit of luck and good weather in the mountains. Sadly, I've had neither. This trip has been one miserable disaster after another. I don't suppose you'd... consider helping a fellow out?
Urist: Help a fellow out... how?
Felix: Of all the other things that went wrong, the worst is this artifact I bought in Jader. It's a “control rod,” I'm told. For a golem. No point in me keeping it, however, as I'll never get to use it... but maybe you could?

At first, I was a little bit skeptical. For one thing, I didn't see any golems following Felix around...

Urist: What's the catch?
Felix: The catch? Yes, I... suppose it is a catch, isn't it? The catch is that the golem didn't come with the rod. It's supposed to be down in a village down south, waiting to be activated. Even if I could get down there, which I can't, I understand the place has been overrun with darkspawn. That's not such an issue for adventurous types like yourself, surely. Or I'm hoping that's so, at least.
Urist: Yes, I think I could use it.

A golem of my very own, to crush wave after wave of darkspawn with its gigantic stone fists, and I had to do was go to some village and activate it? There isn't a dwarf alive who wouldn't jump at a bargain like that immediately.

The darkspawn invasion did sound a bit dicey, but I was confident that once I activated the golem, that would just work itself out. The others were skeptical, but that was because they had never seen one of those babies in action before, like I had. But soon, the golem would be mine, and they would all see that I was right, as usual. I paid Felix his gold sovereigns, without a second thought.

Felix: As I mentioned before, you'll find the golem down south, in a town called Honnleath. I'll mark it here on your map. Just hold up the rod and say “dulef gar.” That will wake the golem up, so I'm told. I hope it works. Best of luck to you, then! Now, I guess it's up to me to find that mule myself.

The joke was on Felix, in a way. Most golems can carry a much bigger load than any mule ever could. I suppose they aren't as good for eating once they inevitably break down.



Felix even drew a little picture of a golem on my map, as if I was going to forget why I'd want to go to Honnleath in the first place.


It didn't take too long for the darkspawn to notice that we had arrived. I tried shouting after the fleeing villagers to ask where the golem was, but they were more interested in running for their lives.



When we did find the golem, I thought it was just some statue at first. It certainly wasn't as big as the golems we had back in Orzammar...



When we got a closer look at it, even the others could tell that there wasn't something quite right.

Wynne: This is a golem, I believe. Damaged, perhaps beyond repair. There may be a way to reactivate it, thought that is not necessarily wise.
(On closer inspection, it appears to be a golem like those few that remain in Orzammar, but obviously damaged and corroded by inactivity.)

Once, Gorim told me about this guy he knew who got his face blown off when one of the golems he was trying to fix exploded and took out his entire workshop. Apparently, they found gibbets and golem parts all the way down in Dust Town when they were trying to figure out how it all happened.

... I did consider that story before trying to activate the golem, but then I also considered how much Wynne's nagging always makes me want to do exactly the opposite of what she says.

Urist: “Dulef gar.” (Activate the golem.)
(Nothing happens. Apparently either the rod is not working or the code word is incorrect.)

I couldn't really tell what was wrong with the golem, but I had come too far to just give up and go back to camp with nothing to show for it. Besides, I was getting kind of curious about how a golem came to be so far from Orzammar. It was highly unlikely that any surface dwarves snuck it out with them, and it was also unlikely that anyone would sell a genuine golem to humans as a piece of statuary, functioning or not.

Besides, either Felix was well on his way up the mountains, or he had become darkspawn poop when he went looking for his assistant and his mule. It would be a waste of time to try to track him down and demand a refund now.



It was clear that someone in the village loved birds. All of a sudden, I wasn't so sure that those shiny bits on the golem were actually lyrium crystals...

Wow, Councilman Murray isn't a control freak or anything, is he? If he wants a garland made out of pumpkins, why doesn't he just make one himself?!

Alistair also pointed out that ribbons would probably be too delicate to hold the weight of baby pumpkins, and I hadn't even thought of that.



But I should probably get back on track and tell you about what happened when we found the one building in town that wasn't either locked or destroyed...



It was plain for anyone to see what had happened. The people of Honnleath had all tragically become addicted to lyrium and were so high when the darkspawn came that they couldn't defend themselves!



Wilhelm's “cellar” was also the single largest undergound dwelling I had ever been in, and that was including the Royal Palace at Orzammar.



I figured that Wilhelm wouldn't mind if I just helped myself to a drink or two. Even if he was crazy enough to brew it with lyrium, it certainly wasn't going to kill me.



I was amazed to find survivors, after the state most of the rest of the village was in, but with any luck at all, someone would know what was wrong with the golem.

Villagers: By the Maker! We're saved!



Mathias: So we could have just starved down here? The bann gave up on us? I suppose I should be grateful that someone came at all then. Thank you. But if you weren't sent by someone, why are you here? If you don't mind my asking.
Urist: A merchant told me about this place, actually.
Mathias: A merchant? Why would a merchant- Oh, I think I see.



Mathias broke the spell that had kept himself and the rest of the villagers safe before he continued the story. Most of the others ran off, either to their homes or to escape from the darkspawn before they could regroup and return.

Mathias: That damnable golem brought us nothing but trouble. My mother sold the rod years ago, after it killed my father, and good riddance.
Urist: Killed your father? What do you mean?
Mathias: My father's name was Wilhelm, mage to the arls of Redcliffe and a hero in the war against Orlais. And what did he get? One day my mother found him outside the tower, with so many broken bones she could barely recognize him, and Shale standing over him just like it is now.



Mathias: My mother might have passed along the wrong command phrase when she sold the rod. She said she never wanted to see Shale active again. Look, I'll tell you the command phrase... but I need your help first!

Mathias: I don't know how she made it past my father's defenses. One of the men tried to go after her. He was killed. But... you could find her, couldn't you?
Urist: I'll see if I can find her.
Mathias: You will? Thank the Maker!

I figured that she'd probably found the rest of grandpa's stash and was passed out somewhere in a dark corner. Either way, how much trouble could it be to round up one child?

Mathias: My father's laboratory is just past the next area, I think. She has to be there!

“I think.” Nice one, Father Dearest. That was what he really said, by the way. I didn't make that up.



Wilhelm must have been a pretty big deal if the Circle of Magi knew about him and still let him live (and work) outside of the tower full-time. I mean, that's basically what Wynne is doing now, but just between you and me, I think that was mostly because everyone else in the tower needed a break from hearing “You shouldn't read other people's letters or go through their belongings looking for coins” and other such things every five minutes.



It didn't take us long to find the defenses that Mathias had been talking about. It didn't seem likely that his daughter could have gotten past a bunch of demonic spirits unscathed, but since we could only find one body, one that clearly wasn't a little girl's body, we decided to keep looking.

At the end of the room was a simple desk, with a journal laying on top. I read it, but only because I wanted to know if he'd written the command phrase for the golem in there, of course.

That did explain an awful lot. Except for the one thing that I actually wanted to know, of course.



You know how sometimes you walk into a situation, and you just know it's going to be something utterly ridiculous? Then you know exactly where this story is going, Diary.



Amalia: You have come to play, haven't you? We're playing a guessing game. It's better with more people.
Urist: Good. You're safe. Your father was worried.
Amalia: Father? Oh! You can tell him I'm fine. Maybe he'll come and stay with us too. Anyway, you should go if you're not going to play. Kitty finds you distracting.
Urist: Sure. Let's leave. You can bring the cat.
Amalia: I can't go! Kitty says she can't come and I'm not leaving her. She'd be lonely.



Well of course it was a demon cat. Just looking at it gave me the shivers. And I don't mean because of the glowing eyes...

Urist: Step away from that creature, Amalia! Hurry!
Amalia: No! Leave me alone! Kitty!
Kitty: Nothing you say will convince Amalia to go with you. She loves only me now. I am her friend, while you are just a stranger.
Urist: What have you done to her?
Kitty: I have done nothing. I am all but powerless. The mage made sure of that, didn't he? I cannot leave this chamber. No, Amalia found me. After decades of isolation, her company is... welcome. It seems we are at an impasse, so let me propose a... compromise of sorts.



Kitty: Mortals often allow themselves to be blinded by hope. They see what they wish to see. If the father hopes to see his Amalia alive and unharmed, perhaps he will.

My first thought was to grab Amalia and run for the door, since Kitty couldn't follow us out of the room. But Wynne and Morrigan both told me that would either kill Amalia or turn her brain into mush. Then we would never get the command phrase because somehow it would be our fault that Wilhelm loved dicking around with dangerous magic more than he loved his own family.

So I did the next best thing, and I think you will agree that this was remarkably clever...



It worked like a charm. I thought demons were supposed to be crafty?

Kitty: Thank you. You are very gracious. The mage's wards hold me within this chamber, and only a mortal may approach them.



Amalia: Oh, this is so exciting! Kitty is going to be free!

The puzzle itself wasn't too tricky. It was one of those ones where you have to rotate tiles so that they make an unbroken path from one corner of the grid to the opposite corner. I guess Amalia was having trouble with the fact that the damn thing was on fire, somehow.



But everyone started yelling and screaming and poking and pushing and shoving each other into the flames, and it was like Family Games Night all over again. So I eventually just made everyone else stand at the other end of the room and watch me solve it myself.

Shortly after I solved the puzzle, the magic spell started to weaken, and then fade...

Kitty: Yes... I can feel the magic fading. Oh... I had forgotten how it feels to not be caged!
Amalia: Kitty? What's happening?



You should have seen the look on her face!

Kitty:Betrayal! You will not take the girl! She is mine!
Amalia: Kitty, you're scaring me! I won't let you inside me! I won't!

I guess the shock snapped Amalia out of being mind-controlled without harming her, so that was good.



Leave it to Morrigan to grouch about not getting to see a child horribly murdered by a demon.



Yes... her name was actually Kitty.

We had to destroy a few more demons on our way back up because they had been smart enough to try to run for the surface while we were tied up with Kitty, but we managed to take them out in no time. Then we returned Amalia to her father, safe and sound.



Amalia: I'm sorry I ran away Daddy! I was so scared!
Mathias: It's all right, butterfly. You're safe, now. All the bad creatures are gone.



Well, I still did, since it probably wasn't demon-possessed anymore, since we did kill the demon.

Mathias also gave us 50 silver coins for bringing Amalia back in one piece, so it paid to do the right thing.

(If the Warden tries to kill Kitty at the first opportunity, she will possess Amalia's body before transforming into her true form, forcing the Warden to kill them both. If the Warden agrees to Kitty's bargain, Mathias will be fooled by Kitty's impersonation of Amalia, but he will not give an additional monetary reward. Kitty can also be haggled with for more treasure before you let her possess Amalia and go free, but that would be extra mean.)



Instantly, the golem began to move. I was worried about it exploding for a few seconds when it seemed to be having trouble with crust in its joints, but as you can see, I am still alive.



Golem: And not even a mage, this time. Probably stumbled across the rod by accident, I suppose. Typical.
Urist: Er... hello to you, too.
Golem: I stood here in this spot and watched the wretched little villagers scurry around me for, oh, I have no idea how long. Many, many years.
Alistair: And the villagers had no idea they were being watched? Creepy.
Morrigan: Then one wonders why you would not be grateful to the one who allowed you to stretch your legs, golem.
Golem: Hmm. Another mage, I see. Charming. I was just beginning to get used to the quiet, too. Tell me, are all the villagers dead?
Urist: I take it that wouldn't concern you?



Golem: Not that I wished their fate on them, no, but it did make for a delightful change of pace.
Urist: Do you have a name?
Golem: Perhaps. I may have forgotten after all the years of being called “golem.” “Golem, fetch me that chair.” “Do be a good golem and smash that insipid bandit.” And let's not forget “Golem, pick me up. I tire of walking.” It... does have the control rod, doesn't it? I am awake, so it... must...
Urist: It certainly does, right in its hand.
Golem: I see the control rod, yet I feel... Go on, order me to do something.
Urist: All right. Walk over there.
Golem: And... nothing? I feel nothing. I feel no compulsion to carry out its command. I suppose this means the rod is... broken?
Urist: So, what now? You go on a killing rampage?



Golem: Hmm. I suppose if I can't be commanded, this means... I have free will, yes? It is simply... what should I do? I have no memories, beyond watching this village for so long. I have no purpose, yet I find myself at a bit of a loss. What about it? It must have woken me for some reason, no? What did it intend to do with me?
Urist: I can think of many uses for a personal golem.
Golem: May I ask what sorts of things it gets up to for which I could be so potentially useful?
Urist: I am a Grey Warden, in need of aid against the Blight.
Golem: It refers to the darkspawn, the very creatures that destroyed this village. The darkspawn are an evil that must be destroyed, it's true. Though not as evil as the birds... damnable feathered fiends! I suppose I have two options, do I not? Go with it or... go elsewhere? I... do not even know what lies beyond this village.
Urist: You're welcome to come with me.



Alistair continues to resist every one of my efforts to bring kingly intrigue and royal legacies into his life. What could possibly be a greater symbol of status than a golem?! Which I would graciously lend to him, should he ever need one to, say, dispose of an opportunistic tyrant who has spent his entire life scheming against him and manipulating his every thought and action.

... Oh, and Loghain too.



Shale: This should be interesting.

Yes... its name was actually Shale. If that's what it really wants to be called, I can live with that.



We soon figured out that Shale could use those strange crystals that we kept finding everywhere as weapons and armour, which helped make up for the fact that it wasn't in the best shape after sitting in the open in some village for years and years.

And that's the story of how I, Urist Aeducan, discovered and reactivated a golem, a priceless treasure thought lost to the ages and to the ravages of darkspawn. It might be a bit much to presume that my honour should be restored, let alone that I should be granted Paragon-hood, but frankly, I don't care. Because I have a golem!

If the Assembly or anyone else, especially Bhelen, have a problem with that, they can just kiss my ass. Does he have a golem? I have never seen him with a golem, not once. And golems just don't appear out of thin air to bastards who betray their siblings by murdering them and framing them for murder! (I am talking about two different siblings, in case that wasn't obvious. You were not my diary back when that happened so I am just making myself clear.)

Besides, I'm pretty sure I remember Alistair saying that Grey Wardens can go wherever they want whenever they want to for some reason. Never mind that the whole thing with Sophia Dryden disproved that notion, I guess we're just ignoring that.

But I don't care what Sten says, I am not marching all night in the cold to get there! I'm sure it'll still be there tomorrow. Probably. I'm sure that if everyone in Orzammar died, I would have heard about it.

Note to Self: Edit out that last bit before dropping diary off at the Shaperate for archival and posterity.

Next Time: Beautiful, Drama-Free Orzammar.

Funny as always. I especially like Alistair's training regimen. There are also two good conversation options depending on having two certain party members when you wake Shale. It rather reminds me of Worker 8 from Final Fantasy Tactics in a way.

Yeah, turns out that I never watch trailers, and they just used stills from the Andraste's Ashes one for the DLC promotion.

This is the scene. It has character spoilers, but I doubt it's spoiling for anyone in the thread.

On Hiatus

Last time, on Dragon Age: Origins, Urist found and reactivated a golem! Also, saved a town from darkspawn and then demons, but it will probably just be doomed to ruin again in a week.

So, armed with a newfound resolve (plus the enviable social clout that having a personal golem will bring), Urist prepares to set off for Orzammar.



Shale: So? What does it think? They don't make me look any wider, do they? I find I am already too wide as it is.
Urist: I think they're so pretty!
Shale: They are, aren't they? I so adore them! I think it should find more as soon as possible. I want to glitter from ear to ear... so to speak!

It is important to have a properly bedazzled golem when one is looking to make waves in society.



Bodahn: Teyrn Loghain won the day, it's said, but there were heavy losses on both sides. It's a fight for the throne, just like in the old times. That's what I've heard on the road, anyhow. Take it for what it is.
Urist: (Persuade) So what's your story, exactly?

It seems to Urist that it would probably be prudent to make sure that Bodahn isn't a serial killer or in debt up to his ears to the Carta or anything like that before dragging him up the Frostbacks. This would have also been useful to know before inviting him to camp in the first place, but as always, leave the past where it falls (that is a Qunari saying that Sten said once.)



Bodahn: I am originally from Orzammar, just as you are, I suspect? You don't have the look of a surface dwarf about you. I was a merchant there too... Merchant Caste. These things are in the blood, you know. You can't just leave them behind. I ran a fairly successful business. Rare artifacts, you know; old things, grand things... the nobles loved them. Reminded them of the lost glory days, I suppose.
Urist: Why did you leave?
Bodahn: One day a noblewoman came to my store. She looked around for a bit and then started shrieking in dismay. Apparently, she believed that a pair of bracers I had for sale once belonged to her brother. He'd been lost in a cave-in, you see, while on an expedition to clear out the darkspawn from one of the tunnels running close to the city. “They were made specially for him! They're unique!” she shrieked. “He stole them from my poor brother's corpse!”



Bodahn: Well, I didn't steal them. You see, I had been paying these casteless thugs to venture out into the Deep Roads for me. The lost thaigs... they're full of things that people left behind. Sometimes you can find a treasure- something worth a little gold.
Urist: Better to do something with them than leave them to rot.
Bodahn: That's exactly how I see it. The noblewoman, she wasn't too happy with the... “theft” of her brother's bracers. I don't know what they planned for me and I didn't want to find out. Bribed the guard that was watching me and took off for the surface first opportunity I got. Never looked back.
Urist: You didn't mention your son in your tale.
Bodahn: Ah, yes... I'm married to a fine woman back in Denerim, it's true. She'd give me a son if she could, but... that's not likely to ever be. Sandal, here... I found him in the Deep Roads years ago. Abandoned, I think, and he was never quite right in the head. I took him in, and brought him with me when I came to the surface. He may not be my blood, true, but I think of him as one.
Sandal: We left Orzammar!
Bodahn: That's right, boy. Maybe one day we'll see it again.
Urist: That was generous of you.
Bodahn: It's not as if I don't benefit, mind you. Turns out the boy's a natural working with enchantments. He might even have been lyrium-addled. I never thought of that before, to be honest. Happens sometimes. He can work an enchantment into just about anything, however, given some time. Could probably open his own shop, if he knew how.
Sandal: Enchantment!
Bodahn: Well, he does seem to enjoy it, at least.
Urist: I should go.

Maybe Bodahn and Sandal can just wait outside of Orzammar, then.



Leliana: It's... it's nothing. I'm fine. I'm just thinking.
Urist: You're less talkative than usual.
Leliana: I can't get what happened out of my head. I'd been in Lothering for years and she still thought I was plotting against her. She didn't trust me. Maybe she never did. She loved me when she could use and control me, and now that she can't, she wants me dead.

Urist, having learned all about manners and being a good listener in Dwarven Charm School, decides not to correct Leliana's inexplicable use of the present tense with regards to Marjolaine.



Leliana: I knew she was ruthless, but I didn't know how far she could go. She is self-serving, cruel... she uses people, then discards them, but that's how she survives in the life she leads. W-what if she's right. What if we're the same? I... I should just have stayed in the Chantry.
Urist: She would have attacked you there eventually.
Leliana: Maybe, but that is not the point. I was a different person there. I forgot my life as a bard while I was in the cloister. I felt safe. I didn't have to watch my back all the time. That's what made Marjolaine the person she is, don't you see? It ruined her; it will ruin me too.
Urist: She did you a great injustice.
Leliana: But that is no reason to rejoice over her death. That is what she would do. I don't want that.



Leliana: How can you be so sure?
Urist: You strive to be good and that's what's important.
Leliana: Do you really think so? Hearing you say that gives me comfort. I would like to be alone, for now. I have many things to consider. Thank you, for listening to me.

(This conversation, much like the conversation with Alistair at the end of his personal quest, can result in “hardening” Leliana's personality if Urist were to tell her “This is who you are.” This can lead to some interesting alternate scenes, but since making Leliana into a new person is not one of Urist's projects, we will never know what could have been...)

And then this happened:



Zevran: Oh? Is there something in your tent that needs assassinating? That is my speciality, or so I'm told.
Urist: I bet you're good at a lot of things.
Zevran: Hmm. That's quite an offer, especially from such a beautiful woman... if we are both speaking of the same thing.
Urist: I suspect we are.
Zevran: And here I thought it might be a Grey Warden thing. Ah, very well.



(By the way, that link is not safe for work!)



Zevran: O-ho! Why aren't you the saucy little minx, then? I've been used and I wasn't even aware of it. A masterpiece! So, then. As the priestess so famously said to the handsome actor: What now?
Urist: I was about to ask you the same thing.
Zevran: Allow me to make it simple for you, my Grey Warden. What comes next is entirely up to you. I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found, for they do not come very often. I shall ask nothing more of you than you are willing to give.
Urist: That sounds fine by me.
Zevran: I must admit, we have come very far from those early days when I tried to kill you and you decided not to kill me... fate is such a tricky whore, isn't she? At any rate, we should be on our way. A new day awaits us, or so the rumor goes.



Urist is pretty sure that Achievement was talking about Zevran and not her.

Anyway, the next day, Team Urist heads to the Frostback Mountains in order to get to Orzammar's entrance.



The sight of the archway does look a lot more majestic coming back toward Orzammar, but for some reason, Urist can't shake the feeling that something-



That was actually far less cunning and brutal than Urist had expected of Loghain by now.



Peter Poor: So it seems. I got a cousin in Bann Farhen's army, too. Haven't heard if he's alive yet or not.
Gary Gossip: Probably not. Teyrn Loghain carved through them like a hot knife, I hear.
Peter Poor: That isn't good news. Poor sods.

Of course, the Ferelden army is probably stretched pretty thin, all things considered.



There was a time when Urist would have blamed this whininess on the poor character of sky-touched Surface Dwarves, but time and experience have long since taught her that it's probably a merchant thing.



Alistair: So... what did you do in there?
Sten: A training exercise. I would observe an object and then try to think of all the words in your language which began with the same letter as its name.
Alistair: That... wait. Just wait. You're joking again, aren't you?
Sten: No.
Alistair:You are not telling me that you played, “I spy,” against yourself for twenty days.
Sten: There are a lot of things in Lothering that begin with, “G.”

... Not anymore there aren't, thinks Urist. Not anymore there aren't.

Urist also sees one of those mage apprentices that she was supposed to deliver a letter to:



Mike Mage: This ought to be interesting. Such diction. This man is a true scholar and rhetorician! I am honored to be fired by one such as he! Good day!

At least he took it well.

Then there were yet more deserters from the Blackstone Irregulars:



It didn't end well for them. Shale is already turning out to be quite the investment!



Faryn: Kyun-what? I'm sorry, I... ah... I don't know what that-
Sten: Where is my sword?
Faryn: I... ah... don't know what you mean, ser.
Urist: I'd give it to him if I were you, Faryn.
Faryn: I... I don't have it! I swear by Andraste's knickers! I sold it on the way here!
Urist: That's awfully convenient.
Faryn: It's true! Maker, please, you have to believe me! If I had it, I'd give it to you!



Faryn: He's the one who has the sword, I promise you. Said he was a collector.
Sten: We'll see.

After all this trouble, this sword of Sten's had better be at least as good as Alistair's Sky Sword...



Dwyn: Now, why would you be interested in that?
Sten: It's mine.
Dwyn: You know, Faryn didn't mention the giant he took it from was alive.
Urist: Why don't you give up the sword and we'll go?
Dwyn: Excellent idea. It's in my strongbox. Here's the key. Now why don't you leave me alone?



The rest of Dwyn's belongings are so meagre that it is, frankly, embarrassing. Urist decides to let him keep what little he has, and reflects on how some dwarves allow disgrace after disgrace to befall them on the surface.



Sten: I had almost forgotten it. Completion. Are you sure you are a Grey Warden? I think you must be an ashkaari to find a single lost blade in a country at war.
Urist: You're welcome, Sten.
Sten: I would thank you for this, if I knew how. And I could deliver a much more satisfying answer to the arishok's question if the Blight were ended, don't you agree?
Urist: Absolutely.
Sten: Then lead the way.



Urist notes that it is, in fact, not as good as Yusaris was, but senses that this may not be the time to argue about it. Instead, she just sends Sten and Alistair back to camp.



Peter Poor: If Arl Eamon's standing up for him, I'd say we should be.
Gary Gossip: Hmph. I don't know why Arl Eamon is complicating things. I thought he would calm all this fighting down, not make everyone even more upset.
Peter Poor: Maybe what he says is true. You ever think of that?

Alistair mostly had to go back because Urist needed someone to make sure that Sten wasn't going to flip out and kill more people because of Qunari honour (that would probably be a bad PR move for the Grey Wardens), but seeing as this would have gotten a bit awkward, it's a good thing that he did.



Willy Whiny: King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr or lords or whatever you call them in your Assembly! I am his appointed messenger!
Donny Doofus: I don't care if you're the king's wiper, Orzammar will have none but its own until our throne is settled.
Urist: I have important business in Orzammar.
Willy Whiny: None more important than mine.
Donny Doofus: Your business will wait. Orzammar must limit outside influence until the throne is settled. No one gets in.
Urist: Settled? Is this about my father?

The second the question left Urist's mouth, she considered that it probably sounded much stupider than she meant it to sound, but it is uncouth to namedrop in front of the lesser classes.

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



Dwarven Charm School never said it was uncouth to tell a human to eat a dick. Or words to that effect.



It is clear that this Surface guardsman simply does not understand the basic fact that Aeducan house cleans its gutters on a regular basis. Urist decides to beat around the bush no longer!

Willy Whiny: The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden! They're sworn enemies of King Loghain!
Donny Doofus: Well, that is the royal seal. That means only the Assembly is authorized to address it. Grey Warden, you may pass.
Willy Whiny: What! She's a traitor! And a kinslayer! You said it yourself.



Willy Whiny: You... you'll hear of this. King Loghain will see you quartered!

Urist was actually expecting that to turn violent, but one does not underestimate the social credit that the Grey Wardens have in Orzammar. That, and the power of a bedazzled Golem.



... And apparently Donny Doofus immediately forgot about his kinslaying-based objections for reasons that Urist does not completely understand.

But more importantly, it occurs to her that her companions have never been to Orzammar before, and have never seen the illustrious Hall of Ancestors, conveniently located at the entrance to Orzammar itself!



Daughter Dearest: Mother, I don't want to be like her! She-
Mommy Dearest: Don't say that! Not to me, not to anyone! Now get back to the forge; I want to see more details!

For some reason, Zevran and Wynne did not find Urist's lecture about the paragons to be very interesting.



Wynne: I'm sorry.
Zevran: Salvail prefers women with experience and maturity. He says they have more substance, are more robust and flavourful.
Wynne: Does he now?
Zevran: Indeed. No need to deny it, Zevran knows a fine bird when he sees one.
Wynne: I am not a bird!
Zevran: There is no reason to deny yourself the pleasure of male companionship, after all, yes? You might balk now, but I assure you, Salvail is a gentleman of means, and quite handsome...
Wynne: I am going to walk away now. Calmly. Coolly. This is to save you the pain of having your brain forcibly removed through your ears.
Zevran: Tsk. This must be a Fereldan thing, I swear.

To be fair, Paragon Branka has never exactly been the highlight of the Hall of Ancestors Tour. And that was before the scandal that apparently Shall Not Be Named In Front of Surfacers. (Who decided that, anyway? Probably Trian...)



Apprentice: It was an injustice! My master is writing another book about the Aeducans; he believes that Prince Bhelen set you up.
Urist: He did set me up.
Apprentice: My master has not forgotten how you defended him from Bruntin Vollney. May Orzammar be kinder to you than the last time you walked the roads.

Well, at least someone around here still remembers Urist's courageous and inspiring leadership... But having to hear about how Bhelen tricked her on a constant basis is already starting to get really old.

Entering Orzammar

... And that ended about as well as one would expect.



Grumpy Gus: That's right, you found pity topside. The Wardens should have better sense when choosing allies. Surfacers and their cloud-addled heads. Fine, oh illustrious Grey Warden, what do you want?
Urist: The Blight is coming and I need Orzammar's assistance.
Grumpy Gus: Surface problems. Well, we have no king to hear you. You can join the shouting at the Assembly in the Diamond Quarter, if you want. Bunch of deshyr lords bickering over sand. Bhelen, Harrowmont... is one so different? No Paragons here.
Urist: I should get going.

It doesn't take long for Urist to realize that it would be better to ask someone with connections what the hell is going on with the Assembly.



She does vaguely recall that the Helmis were a little bit irked at her, last time she was in town, but just how long are they going to hold a grudge over that Proving thing, anyway? It's not as if Lady Helmi doesn't have more daughters!

Nerav: Aye, and worse. But I'm glad to see you back. Since your father died, many have begun to wonder if it was Bhelen's hand behind Trian's death, not yours. Even your father believed that. It's why he appointed Lord Harrowmont as his heir. But enough deshyrs support Bhelen to keep the Assembly in a deadlock. You can see how bad things have gotten.
Urist: How many still support Bhelen?
Nerav: Exactly half the Assembly. But as you know, that means his numbers are dropping.
Urist: Once, the Assembly wished me to rule...
Nerav: And I'm sure some curse their decision to exile you. But House Aeducan stands behind Bhelen still, and they have stricken your name.
Urist: Where is Harrowmont now?
Nerav: He dares not leave his estate often; you've seen what sort of thugs support your brother.
Urist: Who has the authority to defend against a Blight?
Nerav: A Blight? Now? But... our warriors are killing each other in the streets! Who will lead the battle? How will we survive?
Urist: Orzammar must settle its differences to defeat this threat.
Nerav: Then may the ancestors guide your efforts. If you seek Lord Harrowmont's support, talk to Dulin Forender. You'll find him in Harrowmont's estate. Tell him who you are and I'm sure he can get you an audience. I should return home, until the streets become safe again.

Hmm... Should Urist seek Harrowmont's support, or shouldn't she?

: Harrowmont gained my father's blessing, and he still holds the support of half of the Assembly, which is a pretty impressive feat considering the lengths to which Bhelen went to stack the deck in his favour. He's one of those boring traditionalist types, so that's not surprising. On the other hand, Bhelen-

: Ha ha ha! Fuck that, we're going to see Harrowmont. Why would anyone even think that I would consider the Bhelen choice?

On the way to the Assembly Chambers, Urist is soon flagged down by some passer-by.



... Some passer-by who apparently doesn't keep up with the latest news in society.

Dagna: Oh, wonderful! I've been trying to find someone who really knows the surface world. I-I don't suppose you've heard of something called “The Circle?”
Urist: My companion here is a senior enchanter of the Circle.
Dagna: Oh, my lady, it's an honor. I've never met an actual mage. Is it true you can manipulate nature's forces with your mind? Like you were born with lyrium in your veins?
Wynne: Don't let the glamour fool you, child. Wielding magic is a dangerous occupation and a great responsibility.
Urist: Why is a dwarf interested in the Circle?
Dagna: I've been trying to reach someone there for years; I've sent missives with every caravan, but I never get a reply. I want to know if they would accept me for study.
Urist: You're crazy. Dwarves can't do magic.
Dagna: I don't want to do magic. No dwarf can cast spells, but I don't see why I shouldn't study it. It would be a valuable exchange. Orzammar would learn of one of the great natural forces of the surface. And the Circle gains direct access to our knowledge of lyrium smithing.
Urist: I can bring the Circle your request.
Dagna: That would be wonderful! My name is Dagna, daughter of Janar of the Smith Caste. Tell them I've already begun reading the Tevinter Imperium's “Fortikum Kadab,” and it's just fascinating! Did you know the Imperial Magister Lords once had genealogies of every human family known to produce a mage child? Oh, I'll go pack my bags right now! I'll be waiting by my father's shop!

Dagna, of course, runs off before Urist can explain that things on the Surface are a long way away from each other, and that even if she did feel like leaving this very instant, it would probably take a while to get a reply.



Zevran: He certainly does.
Shale: (Snorts) I watched many such couplings during the time I spent immobile in Honnleath. Or should I say I was forced to watch. You do know that this usually ends in reproduction. I have seen it many times, indeed.
Zevran: Oh? That is not such a terrible thought. Creating a new life can be a great deal of fun.
Shale: So you say. I have no idea how a golem is created, but I doubt I shall be creating one anytime soon.
Zevran: Just as well, I imagine. Any lover of yours would no doubt be quickly reduced to a puddle of bruises.
Shale: So you see me winning the affection of another golem, do you? Most golems are slaves to whomever holds their control rod.
Zevran: Funny, it works exactly the same way for us as well.

Urist panics for a moment, before realizing that she has never even heard of an elf/dwarf. Elwarf? Dwelf? Anyway, she doesn't have to worry about this sudden case of baby rabies anytime soon.

Filda: I'm sorry. Did you have an offering for the ancestors? I can move aside. I don't have much to bring them.
Urist: Did I hear you mention your son?
Filda: My name is Filda, widow of Teruck of the Smith Caste. I pray here every day for my son, Ruck. I only wish I knew whether I should be asking for his safe return or for the ancestors to accept his soul. He joined a Deep Roads excursion- the only smith to go with the warriors to repair their arms. He was so proud. But he got... separated somehow. When they came home, he wasn't with them.
Urist: Did anyone go after him?
Filda: The captains don't want to lose anyone searching for stray men. Too many were taken by the darkspawn that way.
Urist: We shouldn't abandon him. I'll look for him if you want. I'm a Grey Warden. That's what we do.
Filda: A Warden! So you could do it! Only Wardens face the Deep Roads without a company backing them. Oh thank you! The ancestors finally heed my prayers!
Wynne: Take heart, good widow Filda. We'll do our best.
Shale: Hmph. Don't get your hopes up. We could search the Deep Roads for decades with no sight of the boy.



Well, somebody doesn't want a life-changing favour done for them.



Brother Burkel The Maker brought forth this world and every creature in it.
Zevran: In my experience, religious people are inveterate liars.
Burkel: He chose a human woman as His prophet and bride, but He loves all races. Even elves. I'm Brother Burkel, of the Redcliffe Chantry, returned to my ancestors' land to spread the Chant of Light. I'm petitioning to open a chantry in Orzammar.
Urist: Why would we want a human chantry in Orzammar?
Burkel: There is... resistance. It's obvious the world wasn't created by the mortal souls who dwelt within it. Yet the dwarves of Orzammar persist in worshipping their own forefathers.
Urist: It's tradition. It's what we are.
Burkel: Will you allow tradition to keep you from the path of enlightenment?
Urist: You think you can show everyone the way? Presumptuous fool.
Burkel: Andraste revealed the truth! The Maker took her up to live at His right hand and- No, never mind. It's clear you've strayed too far to be brought back with a single conversation.

And somebody else is just a big, fat, blubbery, blaspheming baby.

Soon enough, Team Urist reaches the Assembly Chambers...

It's like this pretty much all the time.



Bandelor: It's the one perk to this position, child. Or should I call you “Warden?” I'm glad to hear the surfacers are making use of your talents. Respect for your role is great, but you won't receive a proper hearing until we have a king on the throne.
Urist: So who has the authority to aid me?
Bandelor: Dulin Forrender, Harrowmont's man, can be found at the Harrowmont estate. Vartag Gavorn, Prince Bhelen's second, is often here in the Assembly. I only wish there was more I could do for you.

Urist, of course, marches right past Vartag Gavorn and into the Shaperate Chambers, because that is another thing that the rest of her group has never seen before!



Czibor: The Memories often speak of the swiftness with which change overtakes us, but it is different to see it firsthand. I apologize, Warden. I should not burden a stranger with such thoughts. I am Czibor, the shaper of memories.
Urist: I am no stranger to Orzammar, my Lord Shaper.



And that's when Urist decided that the tour was over for the day.

Next Time: Lord Harrowmont For King: Because It's Not Like There's A Good Choice

Codices:

Can you even put Bhelen on the throne? From what I remember when I played as the Dwarven casteless he was one of my choices, but it seems like a really terrible deal for Urist.

You can!

The decision is "interesting" in that both of the Dwarven Origins have a certain vested interest in either candidate, but the game always treats the matter as something that the Warden has no particular stake in, aside from getting that damn treaty honoured.

Yep, that about sums it up...

After having exhausted everything there is to do in Orzammar that doesn't involve helping either faction, Urist relents and goes to talk to Dulin Forrender.



Dulin: That may be, and that is a terrible risk for the surface. But even if the world would end tomorrow, Lord Harrowmont cannot ignore Bhelen today. He cannot afford to trust anyone of unproven loyalties.
Urist: How can Harrowmont think I'm working for Bhelen?
Dulin: Lord Harrowmont always had too much affection for you, but I know you Aeducans and your thirst for glory. If you wish to show you have no loyalty to Bhelen, then work against him in Harrowmont's name. Bhelen is hosting a Proving today, supposedly to honor his father's memory. The deshyrs take it very seriously. And unfortunately, Bhelen found some way to blackmail or intimidate House Harrowmont's best fighters into stepping down.
Urist: Do you want me to find out why your fighters dropped out?
Dulin: That would be... enlightening, though I hope you won't pry too deeply into things they don't wish revealed. If you wish to show your loyalty, enter the Proving as his lordship's champion. With your order's reputation, I've no doubt the ancestors would favor your arm.

... And just in case this conversation wasn't pushing Urist's Dwarven Charm School training to its limits already...



Dulin: Lord Harrowmont does not use threats or intimidation to motivate his men. He leads by example.
Zevran: Ah, I see. So it's his example they follow as they cower from this Prince Bhelen?
Dulin: How dare you slander Lord Harrowmont!
Zevran: Why should we ally ourselves with someone too scared even to grant us an audience?
Urist: Your snide comments are not helping.
Zevran: Were I you I would seek a stronger king than this Harrowmont.

Urist did not think the matter of “I refuse to support my betraying asshole of a brother, even if it means having to put a darkspawn on the throne” needed any explanation or discussion. Apparently, she was wrong.

Dulin: Surely, you don't mean Bhelen.
Urist: I'll have nothing to do with my treacherous brother.
Zevran: Meh. Have it your way.
Dulin: Bhelen would never work with anyone who humiliated him in that way. Harrowmont would have no fear of meeting with you then.
Urist: I'll enter the Proving, and see why the others withdrew.
Dulin: The key fighters we lost were Gwiddon and Baizyl. You can look for them in the fighters' preparation chambers, behind the ring. And be sure its before the fights begin. After the first bout, no one may change the roster. If you need to find me again, I will wait in the Tapsters Tavern, off the Commons. There is no better place to hear gossip. Perhaps even word of your victory.

... Not that Zevran didn't have a bit of a point about Harrowmont, but there's a certain point at which spite overrules all other objections, including objections relating to certain people being cowardly fools. And furthermore, if Zevran wanted to lead the party and make all of the decisions, he should have tried not sucking at being an assassin!

Anyway, a certain interesting thing happened on the way to the Proving Grounds...



Guard: Branka didn't go alone, Oghren. She took the whole house. Everybody but you. So just get over to Tapsters and drown yourself already. You know as well as I do that's how this always ends.
Oghren: You think I'm afraid of some cub warrior who's barely off the teat? I'll-
Guard: You lift a weapon or attack a single citizen in Orzammar and you're stripped of your caste and exiled. Even you can't have forgotten that. Get out of here before I call a guardsman.

Well, it didn't turn into a fight like Urist had hoped, but you can't have everything.



Merchant: I... can't imagine what you mean. I pay my expenses-
Thug: What about the expenses your good friend Jarvia incurs when providing your protection? It's not easy ensuring nothing bad happens, that no one decides to just... burn everything in your store...
Merchant: My store! Please... I don't have much. Business isn't good... people are scared... T-tell Jarvia I'll get her money, I-
Thug: Jarvia's not happy with your promises, old man. Now, let's go inside and see what you've been holding back.

Urist decides to intervene, not just because it's the right thing to do, but because certain people in the party need to get it through their heads that she is the leader and they are not!



Thug: Well, well. Looks like we have a visitor. Friend of yours?
Merchant: You... g-get out of here. This is private business.
Urist: Looks more like extortion.
Merchant: Please, don't get involved with this. You don't know what they're like!
Thug: Then allow me to make some introductions. These are dangerous times in Orzammar, stranger. Lucky us, the merciful Jarvia is offering protection from the chaos. You're wearing some fancy stuff there. Might make you a target. So if you want the carta's guarantee of safety, it's yours for the reasonable price of ten gold sovereigns. Or I can't say what might happen.
Urist: That sounded like a threat.
Thug: Are you going to make your donation to the Stranger-Safety Fund, or do I have to show you how dangerous Orzammar is?
Urist: (Intimidate) Take a good look. Do you really want to start this?
Thug: Whoa, whoa. All right, you win. I'm not gonna die for ten lousy sovereigns.


After a pity-purchase from the merchant, Urist and company continue to Dust Town, where the good deeds continue!



This guy wanted a fifty sovereign buy-in for his “Sell lyrium to mages wholesale” scheme, but Urist hasn't seen that kind of money since she was first sent to the surface. It probably wasn't nearly as altruistic as he made it sound, anyway.

But then there was this beggar lady...



Urist: Here's five silvers. Buy yourself a meal.
Zerlinda: Thank you. That a stranger would care so much when my own family barred me from their halls unless I'm willing to- But no! I can't bear to think of it!

Zerlinda was obviously doing that thing where you fish for sympathy by oversharing all the details of your life to random strangers who don't walk away fast enough, and that is not a very attractive habit as far as Urist is concerned. But there is a point to be made and that point is that Zevran is going to have to live with feeding the starving babies of Orzammar.

Urist: What does your family want you to do?
Zerlinda: My son's father is casteless, as is he. I used to be a miner, but my parents stripped my caste and refused to accept me back. Unless I agree to abandon the child in the Deep Roads and pretend I never bore him.
Urist: That's horrible!
Zerlinda: I cannot abandon my baby. The shapers teach that only children of true lineage exist, not those born casteless. But they never carried a child. He cries like any other infant and smiles when he's warm and full. I can't kill him because of an accident of birth. An accident I forced on him!
Urist: Maybe I could reason with your family.
Zerlinda: Y-you would do that? But why?
Urist: Don't look a gift Warden in the mouth.
Zerlinda: Then I cannot offer enough gratitude. But I warn you, my father is a stiff-necked man. His name is Ordel and he's usually at Tapsters in the evening. I do not think he will listen to you. But I will wait anxiously to see if you can do what you promise.

It did not occur to Urist until later that Zerlinda did not actually have a baby with her. Maybe she did kill it in the Deep Roads and then was driven mad with grief and consequently started to re-live every moment leading up to that fateful event. Or maybe Dust Town actually has some sort of child care centre, tucked amongst the lyrium dens and the whorehouses, somewhere.

But Wynne agreed that helping her was the right thing to do in any case, and that Zevran was being unreasonable about the Harrowmont Incident.



Ordel: I could be. What business is it of yours?
Urist: I met your daughter.
Ordel: I have no daughter. Could be you met a casteless whore claiming she was once mine.
Urist: (Persuade) If you don't take Zerlinda back, she'll die.
Ordel: What? You think she'd die just to keep that thing? She knows what she has to do to come home. I never wanted her gone, just the little cur. Can't she see she'd have a better life if she got rid of it?
Urist: Could you pretend your child never existed?
Ordel: I've been trying. It's not as easy as I thought. Look, just tell her... we never meant to hurt her. It just seemed best that... Oh, just tell her to come home. Her mother and I are waiting for her.

Oghren was also hanging out at Tapsters.



It wasn't really clear why he changed not into plain clothes, but into different armour before hitting the drink...



Oghren: People are saying how you've thrown yourself on Harrowmont's wagon train. I figured you'd be the one, you know, who could help me find Branka. But I guess you're just like all the rest.
Urist: I don't need to justify myself to you. Goodbye.
Oghren: Sure, and sod off yourself while you're at it. I need a drink.

It's also unclear why “helping to find Branka” and “humouring Harrowmont's stupid ass” are mutually exclusive in Oghren's mind, but that's the mind of a drunk for you.



Zerlinda: Both of us? I don't believe he said that. I've never heard him refer to my son as anything but trash. He calls him “it!” But maybe... maybe Mother convinced him, or you did. Oh, my friend, I cannot thank you enough! If this were a story, my son would grow to manhood and pledge himself as a knight in your service! When he grows up, I will send him to you, I promise!

Yes, it was definitely the aforementioned “crazy” option. But that is officially no longer Urist's problem now, is it?



Shale: What a bizarre question. How else would it feel?
Zevran: Well, let's see... does it hurt? Do you feel like you've been buried under a pile of rock? Or do you feel nothing at all?
Shale: I have nothing to compare it to. How does it feel to be considered an inferior race when compared to others who are just as soft and weak as you?
Zevran: Ah... fine?
Shale: How very fragile it must be. One touch and its kind crumples, spilling liquid everywhere. No wonder they clad themselves in metal.
Zevran: It takes more than a touch, I'm sure...
Shale: I feel very solid. No putrid liquids to squirt out of me, oh no.
Zevran: Hmm. Now that you mention it, I... I suddenly feel like a delicate mushroom...



Proving Master: Then I won't take another moment of your time. If you are looking to pay your respects, though, your brother called a Proving to honor your father's memory. Would you like to take part?
Urist: I'd like to fight as Lord Harrowmont's champion.
PM: I guess I should have seen that coming. Bad blood with your brother and all. Let me just put you into the schedule, here...



PM: I don't know if that's such a good idea. I'll just call you “Grey Warden,” since you're no longer of House Aeducan. We actually have an opening in the first round. Are you ready to start?
Urist: I have a few things I want to do, first.

In Other Words: The Proving Master is already so drunk that he can't be arsed to remember any new names written on his cue cards. At least some things have remained constant in Orzammar...



Baizyl: That sounded genuine. Um, if you weren't looking for me, do me a favour and pretend I never said anything.
Urist: (Persuade) Are you Baizyl? If you tell me what's happening, I could help you.
Baizyl: Look, it's just, when I was younger, I had a thing with this Aeducan girl: Revelka. Lesser cousin, nowhere near the throne. Her family wanted her marrying up, so they matched her with a Bemot. But... we didn't exactly stop seeing each other.
Urist: And now Bhelen's found out?
Baizyl: I thought we were discreet but... She's married to a deshyr's heir. He'd kill me if he knew. So I have to slink out of here like some worthless brand for fear Bhelen will tell the whole city.
Urist: Would you fight again if your secret was safe?
Baizyl: There's no way to guarantee that. I appreciate the thought, but they really have me over a shaft, here.
Urist: What evidence does Bhelen have?
Baizyl: They have letters- love letters Revelka wrote me. If they were made public, she'd be disgraced. Her husband would cast her aside. And I would be lucky to be allowed to die in a duel.
Urist: I can get those letters back.
Baizyl: You'd do that? I don't know how to thank you... I know it's my own fault, but I'd have married her if I could. Bhelen's fighter Myaja has the letters. If you make sure she never shows them to anyone, I'll fight for Harrowmont again.



People say that Bhelen is a brilliant thinker, but what they don't consider is that his grand plans are rarely given any sort of follow-through.

(A non-rogue Warden who did not bring either Zevran or Leliana to Orzammar has to handle this in a slightly more complicated way, but not by much.)



Baizyl: Where did you get those? No, no, no, no, I-I don't want to know. Just... thank you. I can't say what it means to know my Revelka is safe.
Urist: Then you'll fight in the Proving?
Baizyl: I will be glad to fight for Harrowmont in the Provings. Thank you again, friend.

Easy peasy. Next on Urist's list is Gwiddon.



Gwiddon: Name's Gwiddon, and I just tendered my resignation. Somehow, I don't think the ancestors will favor me today.
Urist: Dulin Forender asked me to talk to you.
Gwiddon: I bet he did. That man thinks nothing is beneath him. Well, you can just tell him I had my reasons.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” thinks Urist.

Gwiddon: Bhelen called this whole Proving to let his Lordship save face when he concedes.
Urist: That's ridiculous! Harrowmont isn't conceding.
Gwiddon: Oh? And where did you hear this that's more reliable than a member of the Assembly?
Urist: (Persuade) (Lie) I heard it from Harrowmont himself.
Gwiddon: Well, that's not what I expected... I know Lord Harrowmont. He is an upstanding man. He'd never lie to someone's face. Maybe you're right. I-I'm just a warrior. I've always tried to stay out of these noble politics... If I find out this whole thing was some flunky of Bhelen's lying to me for his own gain, I'll... I'll...
Urist: Get back in the Proving and knock some heads?
Gwiddon: Maybe I will at that.

Well, that was very simple too. In more than one sense of the word.



Another tournament arc blatantly thrown into the story to sell more Urist action figures and accessories! When will marketers finally stop preying on innocent and gullible children?!



Let's just hit the highlights, for now.



PM: Today, he fights as a champion for Prince Bhelen. Opposing him in Lord Harrowmont's name is a member of the famed Grey Wardens!
Seweryn: In the name of House Aeducan and our future King Bhelen!
Urist: Get ready to eat those words.



It really was a “blink and you'll miss it” kind of bout. Seweryn's father must have been a hemophiliac or something.



Myaja: May the Stone honor you...
Lucjan: ... when you fall.
Urist: Sure, and may the dirt taste good when I feed it to you.

As a long-time fan of the Provings, Urist is well aware of the legal loophole that technically allows twins to fight as one “unit” in a Proving match. But since Wynne and Zevran didn't listen when she was giving her lecture on the history of Orzammar, she feels that the explanation would be lost on them anyway.



And since that rule is complete bullshit, she also feels that summoning Wolfie is more than fair.

The round ends before Urist can figure out whether Myaja seems mad about those stolen letters, but it's not as if it really matters anymore.



PM We'll find out as the Warden faces Lady Hanashan, who proved her worth to Paragon Astyth the Grey by cutting out her own tongue. And to our Prince Bhelen by fighting in his name.
Hanashan: ...
Urist: Is self-mutilation supposed to frighten me?



Urist forgot to call Wolfie off, but the Proving Master was so drunk that he probably didn't notice.



PM: Master of all weapons, prisoner of none, Wojech Ivo has never won the same way twice. What will he do today, lords and ladies, and will it win the day for Prince Bhelen?



Urist really wanted to choose Shale, but apparently the Proving Master sobered up enough to remember that golems are against the rules. And without a credible Golem Costume, there's no way that he would have believed that Shale and Urist were twins.

Wynne is about a hundred years old in human years. So that was a no.

Zevran was probably still having a hissy fit about not wanting to support Harrowmont, so fuck him.

Gwiddon was too stupid to be trusted with anything sharp or blunt around anybody in this arena.

So the choice naturally fell to Baizyl, who at least chose one of Urist's less objectionable cousins to screw around with.



And if that's not the ultimate metaphor for high society in Orzammar, then Urist doesn't know what is.

Also: SUCK ON THAT, IVO FAMILY! DID YOU THINK THAT YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS WOULD BE FORGOTTEN THAT EASILY?!



PM: Challenging him on behalf of Lord Harrowmont, the Grey Warden has risen from nothing to stand at the competition's summit. Each will lead a full unit of four soldiers, to see once and for all whom the ancestors favor.



Urist isn't entirely sure, but she suspects that Pilotin might be wearing her old armour. That is so weird and gross.



But the Proving Master arbitrarily allowed Shale into the final match for some reason, so justice was ultimately served.



PM: Do any deny this Grey Warden has earned the championship? Then, it is my honor to declare this Grey Warden champion of the Proving, who has shown that the ancestors favor Lord Harrowmont!
Urist: It was an honor.
PM: Through this day, we affirm the friendship between our city and your order.

This time, there was no fancy helmet nor even any money to be had for being the winner of the Proving. Bhelen is almost as much of a tightfist as Arl Eamon...



Shale: Clearly because it is purple. And a hyena.
Wynne: Then you simply wish to be perverse? Surely you are better than that.
Shale: I have found that I am allowed precious few amusements. Since so many prefer to call me “golem,” I enjoy referring to them in a similar fashion.
Wynne: Oh, very well. But could you at least use a different adjective? I do not wish my age to be my defining characteristic.
Shale: As the fussy mage desires.

With the Provings soundly won for the glory of Harrowmont and the un-glory of Bhelen, Team Urist returns to Tapsters Tavern. (Yes, that is seriously its name.)



Dulin: I must thank you for bringing both Baizyl and Gwiddon back into the fight. His lordship was touched to see his old friends stand for him. There can no longer be any doubt where your sympathies lie. If you're ready, Lord Harrowmont will see you now.
Urist: It's about time.
Dulin: I apologize, but having lived with that serpent, Bhelen, your whole life, you cannot blame me for wanting to test your loyalties.

Seriously, what part of “Bhelen lied to Urist, tricked her, murdered Trian, and placed the blame squarely on her shoulders in a way that led to her total disenfranchisement from all of dwarven society and what was meant to be a horrifically cruel and painful death sentence” are all of these people having trouble with? Urist would have to be as much of a doormat as Alistair to return to Bhelen after half of that! (Zevran will probably repeat that, but everyone knows that Zevran is a gossip anyway.)

And of course, Urist has to trek all the way back to Harrowmont Manor to hear His Pantswettingness.



Harrowmont: I am glad you found a new place among the Grey Wardens.
Urist: All I want is your support against the Blight.
Harrowmont: For us, the darkspawn are a constant menace, so a Blight may not elicit the same urgency you are used to. Ultimately, the Assembly decides what troops to send. If they no longer fear civil war, they'll have no reason to hold back. If you want my support to count, I will have to be king, and right now, there is no sure way to get there.



Harrowmont: I'm... glad you're so eager. If you help me shut her down, we can show the Assembly I am the right king to defend Orzammar. Jarvia hides her base in Dust Town, the raw edges of the city where no one lives but casteless and criminals.
Urist: I'll deal with Jarvia. Be ready to help against the Blight.
Harrowmont: Do this and I promise if I take the throne, I will not stop until the Assembly sends your troops.



A surprisingly bold footnote, coming from Harrowmont. Maybe there's some hope for him as a ruler, yet?

Next Time: Still No Hope for Harrowmont (Jarvia Dies At The End.)

Codices:

Why do the completely nonhuman characters always get the best lines in these games?

Because it is impossible to romance Shale.

Ha ha!



Well, let's face it, that is also probably true.

Things in Orzammar have really started to heat up now that Urist has shown her hand.



So it's a good thing that Bhelen's hired random thugs aren't any better than his hired Proving champions.

Once Urist is in Dust Town, it doesn't take her too long to find connections to the Carta.



Urist: I might have money if you have information.
Nadezda: What are you looking for?
Urist: Know anything about the Carta?
Nadezda: Know it? I lived it, my friend, and let me tell you, it's worse now than in my day. Jarvia took over the carta not more than a year ago, and already she's got every duster with both legs bearing swords for her.
Urist: Where could I find her?
Nadezda: Won't be easy. She's gotten real careful since Beraht died, real paranoid.



Nadezda: There's doors to her base all over the city, but only one is ever open at a time, and if you show up without a token, you'd never know it was there.
Urist: Where do I find one of these tokens?
Nadezda: Can't help you there, salroka. The carta members keep them real tight. Now about that coin you promised?
Urist: I'll give you ten silver. Take care of yourself.
Nadezda: I'll think of you when I go to bed with a full stomach.



Simple Duster: My mam used to say that they don't got no stone to protect them topside. If I go up there, I'm a-gonna fall into the sky.
Urist: You just have to hold on real tight with your feet.
Simple Duster: Yes... when my da left, he never came back. Who's to say he didn't fall up, eh?
Urist: I have to go now.

One of them was considerably more helpful than the other.



Violence is not always the best answer, but it is often the most direct answer.


Urist: (Intimidate) Tell me how to find Jarvia, or you join them!
Thug: The base is below the city. Y-you can get to it through the wall of the third house on this row. Put this token through the slot and it'll open. Will... will you let me go now?
Urist: Yes. And you won't want to be at Jarvia's when I get there.
Thug: R-really? Oh, thank you. You're a... a good person. How do they say it? The ancestors have shown their favor. Bless you!

Some number of inconsequential Carta Thug corpses later...



(On closer inspection, there is a small slot concealed in a fold of the stone, just big enough for a finger.)
(Put finger bone token in the slot.)
(The door unlocks.)



Buzzkill Thug: Looks like we have a martyr, boys.

Well, that could have been planned a little bit better, but the important part was that Urist got into the Carta's HQ.



Up until now, Urist thought that Zevran had been quiet because he was still sulking about having to cooperate with Harrowmont. To think that the real reason was because HE WAS BUSY GUZZLING POULTICES LIKE THERE WAS NO TOMORROW!

This might not be a great thing for their relationship...

(Yes, I felt properly ashamed of myself for this.)



The stories about Jarvia's paranoia turned out to be rather true, if the number of traps throughout the HQ are any indication. Of course, Urist had to run extra fast to get there before Zevran and Shale barreled into them without checking.

It might be a bit dramatic to assume that Zevran has suicidal tendencies because of the little disagreement that they had, but Urist has been trained to assume the worst when it comes to other people's erratic behaviour.

On the bright side...



The Dungeon Padding Treasure Hunt tradition continues!


Urist accidentally poked Wynne while trying to unlock a treasure chest, so she has to talk to her now.



Wynne: I've noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going. It seems he only ever has one thing on his mind. I question the wisdom of a Grey Warden being involved in such an affair.
Urist: We're just taking it one day at a time.
Wynne: You are a Grey Warden. You have responsibilities which supercede your personal desires.
Urist: I can handle my responsibilities and my relationships.
Wynne: Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?
Urist: What am I supposed to do, tell Zevran to go away?
Wynne: You may have to, to save one or both of you unnecessary anguish later on.
Urist: What do you know of love? You've never left the Circle.



Wynne: I have given my advice. Do with it what you will.



Incredibly, that bout of nagging allowed Wynne to reach enlightenment and learn a new spell.

Was Wynne's nagging just nagging for the sake of nagging, or did Zevran maybe sow the seeds of doubt somewhere in the middle of another talk about all the creepy guys he knows that Wynne should date? With Wynne, it could honestly go either way, and frankly, Urist's money is always on the "Wynne lives only to nag" option.



Of course, when Urist challenged Wynne to make her know-it-all self useful for a change and tell her which of these was the least valuable, she made some excuse about how Circle mages live austerely and don't know much about jewelry. So then of course it was up to Zevran (Shale is a bit of a magpie.)



Urist walked around with a SKULL FRACTURE from the resulting explosion for about half an hour before anyone bothered to tell her!

Zevran is back to trying to kill her. But there is a small chance that he means it in a flirty way...

(There is actually no "Hey! You screwed up!" notification for choosing the wrong treasure in any of the stash chests, so if you don't notice that the character who took the loot has a new and sudden injury, you might have a hard time figuring out why you can't complete the sidequest.)


Technically, Harrowmont didn't say anything about getting rid of Dust Town's generic criminal element...

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

Well, of course Urist emptied its pockets.

(Those who have played the Dwarf Commoner Origin may recognize the Mysterious Prisoner as Leske, the Dwarf Commoner's friend/sidekick/secondary party member. Of course, the reunion, and the story around it, plays out differently if the player is a Common Dwarf...

Some players believe that the corpse is supposed to be that of the generic Dwarf Commoner, but I don't buy it. Not only is there no evidence to prove that this is the case, it goes against the precedent set by every other Origin, in which the Wardens who were not chosen are always killed offscreen and never encountered in any form by the one who was chosen. Besides, who's to say that Leske didn't make a new friend during his prison stay?)



Urist finally discovers Jammer's Stash in a stable full of the Carta's tamed attack beasts. Judging by the way that absolutely none of them bother to attack Urist, they may have done too good of a job of taming them.



Well, that was certainly worth a skull fracture and a relationship crisis.

Shortly...



URIST IS NOT HELPING BHELEN SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP



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



Urist is so flattered by the compliment that she just happens to forget that there are tons of traps in this room too. And wouldn't you know that none of Jarvia's remaining thugs will step into any of them...



Wynne's new magic spell is incredibly distracting, but there's no way Urist is going to re-open herself to another interrogation about her life choices by asking her to tone it down.



At least it provides Team Urist adequate lighting as they traverse a newly-opened convenient shortcut back to Orzammar proper. Of course, there's no way to tell where it leads until-



Whoopsie doodle.



Nitpicking Dwarf: It's going to cost me a fortune, isn't it? I can't believe this. There better not be more of your trouble-making kind crawling in after you. I swear, this city is going to the criminals and the nugs...

What a grouch.

Anyway, Urist lived up to her end of the deal, so obviously Harrowmont will be more than happy to honour the treaty. Right?



Harrowmont: I have no desire to go back on my word, but when Bhelen heard the news about Jarvia, he raised the stakes. He is forcing a vote in the next two days. By law, that prevents the Assembly from hearing any other pleas. To help with your troops, I will require your assistance one last time.



"And stop explaining dwarven politics to me like I've never heard of them before."

Harrowmont: As a Paragon, she outranks even the Assembly. Were she to support me as king, this awful debate would be over.
Urist: What if she's dead?
Harrowmont: Her entire house went with her. It would take a lot to kill so many. If not, bringing proof of her death or a body to return to the Stone, would still show that as an ancestor, it was my hand she guided to her remains.
Urist: Are you sure Branka would support you as king?
Harrowmont: It's hard to say what she would do. She wasn't exactly known for her predictability. She never seemed to like being a Paragon. She was devoted to her craft, never cared for politics. But one of the most brilliant minds Orzammar has seen.



Harrowmont: My men traced Branka's disappearance to an ancient crossroads known as Caridin's Cross. It is many miles below where we normally venture, but I can provide a map to lead you there. Just enter the Deep Roads through the mines. Thank you again. And may the ancestors guide your steps.



"ZEVRAN I AM NOT SUPPORTING BHELEN SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP"

Next Time: Caridin's Cross and Other Tales

Oh boy, time for the funnest part of the game.

It's been a while since I've played Dragon Age to completion, but I'll never forget the next part.

Wouldn't it be funny if Urist found Branka and then Branka decided that she was going to vote for Bhelen instead?




(The town criers have a surprisingly large amount of dialogue for each stage of the Orzammar questline.)

After making some preparations and fighting through a few waves of Bhelen supporters, Team Urist approaches the entrance to the Deep Roads...



Oghren: Ah, I know you're down here to look for Branka, and, uh, I need to ask a favor.
Urist: You've been trying to get help to find Branka, right?
Oghren: Aye, I have. For all the sodding good it's done me.



Oghren: I know what Branka wanted and how she was looking. You, I assume, know whatever Harrowmont's men have dug up on where exactly she disappeared. If we pool our knowledge, we stand a chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck.
Urist: Sounds like we have a deal.



Oghren: The smith Caridin built it, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, while it was protected by the golems forged on the Anvil. As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start looking there, if she could ever find it. All she knew was that it was past Caridin's Cross. No one's seen that thaig for five hundred years.
Urist: Harrowmont gave me a map. I can get to Caridin's Cross.
Oghren: If we're going, let's get moving. Branka's not going to sodding find herself.



Oghren is going because he will be able to help butter Branka up.
Shale is going in order to act as a tempting bribe (easy come, easy go?)
Wynne is coming along because she can use healing magic. (Urist really needs to find a shop that has more poultice ingredients.)



It figures that Harrowmont would forget the most crucial step in this leg of his plans.



Gormless the Guard: Oghren could have been a deshyr for House Branka. I suppose he's the next best thing, in both skill and arrogance. You may pass. I'd offer more assistance, but my command post is here. All of Orzammar relies on us to hold this line.
Urist: Thank you.

(Note that even outside of this cutscene, Orzammar's Most Important Line is being held by barely a handful of guards.)



(Harrowmont's map of the Deep Roads works the same way as the map of Denerim does. Except that there is no whorehouse in the Deep Roads.)

Urist notices that Aeducan Thaig is more or less on the way to Caridin's Cross, so she decides to make a quick detour in order to loot it of all of the ancestral treasures that Bhelen does not deserve.



There is only one thing left of note in the entire Thaig.



... Something mysterious compels Urist to take them, even though they are disgusting.



The legs did not seem to be the legs of a Paragon, so the search must go on!



"I can't believe we're expected to ignore the obvious ambush up ahead until this cutscene ends."



Oghren: Not a one, but trust me, we will once we're on the path to the old Ortan Thaig. She was going to Caridin's home.
Urist: Great, let's go.
[b]I've been waiting for someone to say that for two sodding years.

Five steps later, because seriously...



The Best Hider in the World: A couple of Harrowmont's little lackeys... Let's show 'em who's king!

...



They died pretty soon after that, so apparently it was a trick question.



... Unlike those assassins.



Wynne: Must it always be "elder mage?" I am not a wizened old crone just yet.
Shale: Would it prefer "mage well past her prime, don't mind the sagging bits?"
Wynne: You have an odd way of requesting answers to your questions.
Shale: I am curious about the abominations of the tower. It is possible for such a creature to become human again?
Wynne: Yes, it is simply... very difficult. It requires travel into the Fade.
Shale: And? Is the mage the same afterwards as the mage was before?
Wynne: No, I... have never met such a person, but no. They are changed. Forever.
Shale: I understand. Thank you for the answer... wise one.



Shale: Oh? That. Merely reflecting on the hopeless nature of the task in front of it. The most likely outcome is that it and its companions will become a stain on some rock for the darkspawn to tread upon. I shall be moved to a single tear by the tragedy.
Urist: Won't we be right next to your stain?
Shale: I think not! I am made of pure rock, skin to core. At best, I can become a pile of dust, but a smear I will definitely not leave behind! That's for softer, squishier things like itself and its friends. What's that? Did it hear flapping wings? There may be pigeons nearby, we should be alert!

Shale is starting to act strangely, though it does still seem to be killing things efficiently.

(Remember when an Ogre was a white-knuckle boss battle? Now they are tough, yet mundane, encounters in the Deep Roads.)



This pile of rubble is just so... compelling...

These "quests-within-quests" just keep getting more and more-



AIEEEEEEEE WHAT THE HELL IS THAT

It's a good thing the narrator is on the ball.

Shortly afterward came an update on the Crosscut Drifters.



(This isn't a particularly important scene, but I wanted to set the stage for another codex find. The Deep Roads are not a terribly varied environment.)



(For some reason, the treasure cache for "Crosscut Drifters" doesn't activate until you find the first codex in the series, which is hidden the deepest in the tunnels. Or maybe I am just that awesome at spelunking.)



Wynne: Oh, I'm sorry, Shale. I am simply curious about you, that's all.
Shale: As my former master would say during his experiments.
Wynne: Oh, I would do no such thing. I just find the idea of you so fascinating. On the one hand it seems it would be so sad, and so lonely an existence. And on the other you are so very powerful. No golem I know of has ever had free will as you do. May I ask what you intend to do with it?
Shale: Other than exterminating the vermin of the sky?
Wynne: Er... yes. Other than that.
Shale: I do not know. Crushing heads is fun, for now.



Shale wasn't too interested in a pre-crushed head.



Ha ha! It's so true!


It's about time there was a change of scenery around here.



Oghren: I can see Branka all over this place. She always took chips from the walls at regular intervals when she was in a new tunnel – check their composition. If she was still here though, she'd have sentries out by now.
Urist: Let's get going.
Oghren: Couldn't have said it better myself.



Urist isn't sure whether to be cheered or horrified at the fact that the giant, terrifying spiders seem to be holding their own against the Darkspawn this far into the Deep Roads.



The Deep Roads has a lot of problems, but then again, that is probably to be expected after years and years of prolonged dwarven genocide.

Urist wonders if this has something to do with the ruined hilt she found in the earlier tunnels...



Either way, it's been a while since someone handed her an heirloom sword on a platter!



Ortan Thaig is full of restless spirits and barely-functional golems, but Oghren doesn't appear to recognize any of them, so they are probably aren't members of House Branka.



Something about this altar seems significant, somehow...

(The altar in front of you, though broken, tingles with energy.)
(Place the body parts on the altar)



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

He wasn't much compared to the pride demon that Uldred had become, but at least it took all of those creepy body parts back to the Fade when it died.

(The reward for letting the pride demon go on its way is 25 gold sovereigns, which is definitely nothing to sneeze at. Oh, and a passive-aggressive note from the quest log about how the Warden has probably doomed at least three tiny country towns due to his/her greed, or words to that effect.)

Unfazed by the horrors that they unleashed (and then vanquished), Urist and the others soon happen upon the remains of a dwarven camp, and...



Addled Dwarf: You've come to take my claim! You city-folk are all alike: stone-blinded blunder-foots! Well, I found it first!
Oghren: Bah! He's a bloody scavenger, good as sodding gone.
Addled Dwarf: Begone, you! You'll bring the dark ones back, you will! They'll crunch your bones!



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

The addled dwarf runs further into the camp, so of course, Urist gives chase.



Urist: Is this Branka's campsite?

Urist privately also wonders why Branka would bring a gigantic portrait to her base camp with her, but figures that it may be a crazy Paragon thing.

Addled Dwarf: It's mine! I'm the one who found it. I drove out the crawlers. Now it's mine!
Urist: (Persuade) I'm not here to steal anything. I promise.
Addled Dwarf: Pretty lady... pretty eyes, pretty hair... smells like the steam of burning water, blue as the deepest rock... So the pretty lady won't take anything from Ruck? You won't take Ruck's shiny worms and pretty rocks?
Urist: I just want to talk. I won't take anything.
Ruck: Oh. Ruck not mind that, maybe...
Urist: So your name is Ruck?


It's doubtful that Ruck will cough up anything useful about Branka, but Urist did promise to try to find Ruck and here he is, for what it's worth.

It might not be a terribly good or practical idea to bring him home like this, but maybe Harrowmont can get off his ass and spin this into something anti-Bhelen because darkspawn something something

Ruck: N-n-n-no. No Filda. No mother. No warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words! Ruck doesn't deserve good memories. No-no-no-no-no-
Urist: Your mother misses you. She asked me to find you.
Ruck: Sh-she did not know, not what I did. I was very, very, very, very angry and then someone was dead. They wanted to send Ruck to the mines. If I went to the mines, sh-she would know. Everyone would know. So I came here, instead. Once you eat... once you take in the darkness... you not miss the light so much. You know, do you not? Ruck sees, yes. He sees the darkness inside you.
Urist: I'm a Grey Warden. It's not the same.
Ruck: Grey like the Stone. Guardian against the darkness. Beautiful like waterfalls under the lichen.
Urist: You have to tell your mother you're alive.
Ruck: No, no, no! She cannot... She remembers a boy, a little boy, with bright eyes and a hammer and she cannot see this! Swear, vow, promise you won't tell!
Urist: You're right. Telling her this would be cruel.
Ruck: Tell the mother Ruck is dead. He's dead and his bones are rotting in the crawler's webs and she should never look again.
Urist: All right, I'll tell her you died bravely.
Ruck: Pretty lady is like Mother, yes. Too good, too pretty for the darkness.

Then Ruck decided that the conversation was over, so Urist starts questioning him again to try to learn anything useful about Branka.



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



... That was practically Alistairian.

To his credit, Ruck politely ignores this little incident, and continues.

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



Despite Ruck's earlier protests, he doesn't mind when Urist takes away another piece of the Topsider's Honor. Then again, it's not as if she made a show of asking.

(After speaking to Ruck, and supposing that you don't kill him in the course of completing his sidequest, he acts as a shop from that point on, but he doesn't have anything unique or particularly interesting. The Topsider's Pommel is actually found in a pile of junk in the camp.)



"Yet, you think those papers will be in great shape after being eaten and pooped out by giant spiders?"

Though to be fair to Oghren, deeper into Ortan Thaig, Urist does find a remarkably well-preserved journal.



... Of course, maybe this one would have been better left unread.

TRIGGER WARNING: GIANT SPIDERS, MINIBOSSES



(The Corrupted Spider Queen isn't terribly hard by comparison to the other giant spiders in the game thus far, but she does have an annoying habit of running away and spawning a crowd of spiders to surround the entire party, which drags the fight out just to the point where they could justifiably call it a roadblock.

Swarm of baby giant spiders not shown. You're welcome, arachnophobes.)



Somehow the spiders were able to recognize and acknowledge the exalted words of a Paragon, preserve them, and place them in an appropriate spot of significance. Praise the Stone and her miracles!

"We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in the Ortan Thaig. We will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond. My soldiers tell me I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil... If we find it. I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if it remains lost, so do we all."

"If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him... No, what I have to say should be for his ears alone. This is my farewell."



Oghren: Looks like the Dead Trenches is our next stop, then. They say the darkspawn nest there, whole herds of 'em. But if that's where Branka went, then that's where I'm going.



Wonderful idea, Oghren.

Next Time: The Dead Trenches and the Anvil of the Void

Codices:

Bonus:



Oghren Concept Art.

I was so frustrated in either the Aeducan Thaig or Cairidin's Crossing since I got lost right at the beginning, trying to figure out how to proceed. After a few moments of walking back and forth I noticed the side passage that lead out to the rest of the area to proceed. What the LP doesn't show is just how immensely long and big these areas are, especially if you are exploring every bit, on top of the countless fights. I know the Deep Roads gets a lot of flak as being the breaking point for many people, but for me I rather enjoyed it. It was all the politicking in Orzammar that bothered me, since it was long winded and full of fetch quests. Placing a long venture of combat right after that is not the best pacing though. The bit that I liked about it was that at the beginning the darkspawn are played up to be menacing, which they are since they had their victory at Ostragar. However, at this point, you've leveled up so much and had so many nice abilities unlocked that it feel very cathartic to just stomp darkspawn left and right and maul the ogres.

I actually forget how I played this first, whether following the same locales as Dawn or if I did the Deep Roads last. I do distinctly remember having Team Kronk around (possibly for side quests, so who knows) going around smashing everything. That's a team of a 2her warrior warden, Shale, Sten, and Oghren. It is so much fun.

The ending cinematic of this update certainly was one of those turning points, of taking in the scope of the threat. Shale's pessimistic seeming observations don't seem all that pessimistic when seeing that. It was also around this point that I was wondering if the mystery of darkspawn might be revealed further.

It might be boring, but I think it'd be fun to see a video of some combat in the next bit. I'd find it interesting to see how other people play the game and go about doing the business of being the new shit a warden.

Also, Oghren is the best character.

I was originally going to do a video for every boss fight, but the optimal way to fight battles in the Dragon Age games involves pausing a lot, and fiddling with menus full of traps, poison, poultices, etc. I'm not good enough to make that look compelling.

Maybe in the future, an opportunity for a video update may present itself?

Another good summary.



Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long for Urist to come across a battle in the Dead Trenches.



Also unsurprisingly, the line is being held rather... lackadaisically.

Is there any institution in dwarfdom that isn't using the succession crisis as a convenient excuse to not get anything done?



Kardol: Your past means nothing to the Legion of the Dead. Our oath ignores caste, family, history. It lets us act without distraction. Despite what we may have thought of you in life. What do you want here, warden?
Urist: I need to find Paragon Branka.
Kardol: Who put this dull idea in your head? We've got other things to worry about in Orzammar... ah, now I see. The deep lords in the Assembly can't make up their minds, so the pretenders need added influence. I get that right?
Urist: That's about it. You have anything useful to add?
Kardol: Warden, you've got your work cut out for you. Paragon Branka is dead, everyone with sense knows it. Past our line, the darkspawn kill everything.
Urist: Why hold back?
Kardol: I'd gladly lead an assault through the Dead Trenches, but without an ass in the throne, we have no orders. I won't take fool's gold from a pretender. You want to go digging blind, you go right ahead.
Urist: Ever heard of the Anvil of the Void?
Kardol: Like dusters have heard of respect. Never seen it, and if it exists it wasn't meant for me. But if you're looking for Paragons, you may as well look for the anvil. And endless Lyrium.
Urist: Tell me more about the Legion of the Dead.
Kardol: Wondering what your life would be like if you had stayed in Orzammar? Few others of our kind would have you.



Kardol: The Legion knows those words well. It's the song of the recruit hoping for a way back to caste or honor. They get their head out of the smoke and accept their fate, or the Stone takes them.
Urist: I'm leaving.
Kardol: Let us know if you find any Paragons. You're as likely to find a dozen as one. And Warden, watch yourself. Drunks make poor allies.

Kardol was probably exiled from his House for being a judgemental ass.

So Urist feels no remorse for clearing the way across the bridge for herself and her slightly-less-judgemental allies in the following way:



First, grab a mob...



Then lead it back over the bridge to Kardol and the Boys (Bois?)



The Ogre proved to be much too saavy for this strategy, but not Kardol. Think about that for a second.



Eventually, the group makes it into the long-abandoned Bownammar Thaig, which Kardol does move the line up to claim. Once Urist has done all the hard work, that is.



The mausoleums dotted throughout the thaig are mostly unremarkable, but they do contain pieces of Legion of the Dead armour (which Oghren can't wear yet.) Collecting them all opens up another minor sidequest for Urist that will mostly take place offscreen.



Aside from being a Boss-level darkspawn, this Ancient Darkspawn is noteworthy in that he drops the final piece of the Topsider's Honor. Urist makes a note to run that back to Ortan Thaig at some point.



Pictured: The moment just before Urist realized that her Stealth skill needed a bit of a tuneup.



Also Pictured: The other Boss-level Darkspawn of the area. He can be tricky if he gets the jump on a party, such as if he detects someone sent ahead to scout with Stealth...

Otherwise, he drops four gold sovereigns, and the Forgemaster's Hammer (which would be pretty sweet if Urist was into 2-handed hammers.)



Another bridge ambush, and this time the Legion of the Dead are nowhere in sight to do all of the heavy lifting.

WHAT WAS URIST PAYING- er, HAVING THE PEOPLE PAY TAXES FOR ALL THESE YEARS?!



Shale is so large that sometimes Urist can't help but accidentally make eye contact and have to have conversations in the middle of the battlefield.

Shale: Oh, it's not just that. Well... I'm sure that's part of it, but it's not only that. Surely it must come from some superior lineage, yes? Some breed of flesh creature that has decided to elevate its genetic stock above its natural shortcomings?
Urist: I am a member of House Aeducan, in fact.
Shale: Then that must be it. My experience with dwarves is limited, but obviously I need to encounter more of them. Other than Oghren. I would appreciate if it didn't spread around that I said anything. Humans might start to get the wrong idea. They might start thinking their race is not completely hopeless.
Urist: Yeah, I'll keep it to myself.
Shale: Now. Let us crush something into a fine paste before it starts to think that I have gone all soft. Perish the thought.

Some time later, Urist finds a tunnel leading away from the main thaig...



Nobody in Urist's group said that, since the letters are not hovering over their heads...



As Urist continues down the tunnel, the voice gets closer and closer.



Urist approaches the door and opens it cautiously, more than a little apprehensive about what may lie behind it.

Hespith: Feeding time brings only kin and clan. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers' faces and open doors.
(Examine her closely)



Hespith: First day, they come and catch everyone.
Urist: Is this darkspawn corruption? It looks... different.
Hespith: Corruption! The men did that! Their wounds festered and their minds left. They are like dogs, marched ahead, the first to die. Not us. Not me. Not Laryn. We are not cut. We are fed. Friends and flesh and blood and bile and... and... All I could do was wish Laryn went first. I wished it upon her so that I would be spared.



Hespith: D-do not talk of Branka, of what she did. Ancestors preserve us, forgive me. I was her captain and I didn't stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her... but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become.
Urist: What did she do, Hespith? What did Branka do?
Hespith: I will not speak of her! Of what she did, of what we have become! I will not turn! I will not become what I have seen! Not Laryn! Not Branka!

Then Hespith runs away, further into the Deep Trenches. Of course, Urist chases after her.



Hespith's voice can still be heard throughout the ruins, but wherever she is, she is impossible to find.



Eventually, her trail leads to an Ominous Door, which of course, will require an Ominous Key.



Unlike every other ghost Urist has seen so far, the spirits of the former Legion of the Dead neither attack nor pressure Urist into participating in a quiz show. That is, until she removes the Ominous Key from the Legionnaire's Altar...



The ensuing battle was less fearsome than it looked.



(Dragon Age is rated M for Mature.)



(I'm not trying to be prudish about this, but I'm also not eager to test Imgur (or anyone else's) tolerance for a close-up look at a stack of grotesque monster tits.)



(The Broodmother fight is basically a mix of beating down tentacles and darkspawn reinforcements, and trying to keep out of the way of gross AOE attacks. I'm having trouble thinking of a "mutant" enemy in the history of video games that doesn't have a vomit-based attack.)

Educational!



Hespith: But the true abomination... is not that it occured, but that it was allowed. Branka... my love... The Stone has punished me, dream-friend. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal.



Hespith flees the Broodmother's lair, and Urist continues into the depths of the tunnel, somehow knowing that the Anvil of the Void is just around the corner.



Oghren is taking the... events... better than Urist would have expected.



(I did not alter this image. The group really does saunter into the trap and casually remark on the fact that it is rapidly closing behind them, while Branka appears dramatically in front of them.)



On the bright side, Branka is certainly alive.



And Oghren, despite everything, is actually happy to see her.



Ouch.

Branka: And how shall I address you? Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn't mind Oghren's ale-breath?
Oghren: Be respectful, woman! You're talking to a Grey Warden!
Branka: Ah, so an important errand boy, then. I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead? That seems most likely. He was on the old and wheezy side.
Urist: My father is dead. The Assembly is deadlocked.
Branka: You are... seeking my support? You wish to succeed Endrin and become a ruling queen? I don't care if the Assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne. Because our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world, is lost to the very darkspawn it should be fighting.



Branka: The Anvil lies on the other side of a gauntlet of traps designed by Caridin himself. My people and I have given body and soul to unlocking its secrets. This is what's important. This has lasting meaning. If I succeed, the dwarven people benefit. Kings, politics... all that is transitory. I've given up everything and would sacrifice anything to get the Anvil of the Void.
Urist: Does that include Hespith and the others of your house?
Branka: Enough questions! If you wish me to get involved with this imbecilic election, I must first have the Anvil. There is only one way out, Warden. Forward. Through Caridin's maze and out to where the Anvil waits.




With that, Branka slinks back into the shadows, the very model of a living god, and an inspiration to her people.

The first trap she sends the group through is a meat grinder teeming with darkspawn.



... and of course, she has to give a villainous monologue while she watches from parts unknown.

Oghren, you can do better.



There are a few lyrium veins dotted around the area, and activating them outside of the Fade grants a new Codex entry and a one-time-only shot of energy.



The second trap is a room filled with poison gas and with golems (the golem in the screenshot is Shale, shortly after beating its bretheren to death. The lever was so fascinating I failed to get an action shot, what can I say?)



There are other kinds of traps, too. And an awful lot of golems for there not to be an Anvil of the Void close by...



... It's not quite an "endless" lyrium vein, but it is strangely pretty, and things are looking good for Urist's chances of going 3-for-3 when it comes to throwing Kardol's words back into his face!



And there is also a third trap to disarm too.



(The Spirit Apparatus is much easier than it looks. All Urist has to do is kill a spirit guarding one of the enchanted anvils, and then activate the spell on the now-glowing anvil, which sends a bolt of energy at the Apparatus. Then repeat the process again and again until the thing stops moving.

The AI-controlled members of the party may need some babysitting to keep them from charging directly at the Apparatus. This is the new shit!)



The room directly after the Spirit Apparatus chamber looks promising...



... as well as rather spacious.

To Urist's surprise, the largest and most important-looking golem in the room begins to speak.



He doesn't look a day over-



Caridin: Ah, there is a voice I recognize. Shayle of the House of Cadash, step forward.
Shale: You... know my name? Is it you that forged me, then? Is it you that gave me my name?
Caridin: Have you forgotten, then? It has been so long. I made you into the golem you are now, Shayle, but before that you were a dwarf... just as I was. The finest warrior to serve King Valtor, and the only woman to volunteer.
Shale: The only... woman? A dwarf?
Caridin: I laid you on the Anvil of the Void, here in this very room, and put you into the form you now possess.
Shale: The Anvil of the Void... that is what we seek.



Caridin: Though I made many things in my time, I rose to fame and earned my status based on a single item: the Anvil of the Void. It allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible. But I told no one the cost. No mere smith, however skilled, has the power to create life. To make my golems live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere.
Urist: Sounds like blood magic. A dangerous road.
Caridin: The darkspawn were pressing in. Originally I took only volunteers, the bravest of souls willing to trade their very lives for the chance to defend their homeland. But King Valtor became greedy. He began to force men... casteless and criminals... his political enemies... all of them were to be given to the Anvil. It took feeling the hammer's blow myself to realize the height of my crimes.
Urist: What now? Do you want revenge?
Caridin: Not revenge. The blow of the hammer opened my eyes. My apprentices knew enough to make me as I am, but not enough to fashion a control rod. I retained my mind. You were amongst the most loyal, Shayle. You remained at my side throughout, and at the end I sent you away out of mercy.
Shale: I... do not remember.
Caridin: We have remained entombed here ever since, and I have sought a way to destroy the Anvil. Alas, I cannot do it myself. No golem can touch it.



(Branka ran into the room in the most hilarious manner, but the still made a better screenshot. Take my word for it.)



Shale: You speak of things I do not remember. You say we fought... did you use our control rods to command us to do so?
Caridin: I destroyed the rods! Perhaps my apprentices eventually learned to replace the rods, I do not know, but if so, then all they need is the Anvil to make all the slaves they need!



Caridin: How would you feel to know you've been torn from all the spirits that had come before you, that you would never rest with the ancestors?

Well, funny story about that-



Oghren: Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail. Does this thing mean so much to you that you can't even see what you've lost to get it?
Branka: Look around. Is this what our empire should look like? A crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn spume? The Anvil will let us take back our glory!

Wow. That is the single most disgusting way she could have phrased that. "Spume"? Eech.

: Orzammar could use a new supply of all-powerful golems to help us turn this war around and save our people. Plus, if I play my cards right, I could probably get Branka to give me even more personal golems for the Grey Warden army, too! It also goes without saying that without Branka's endorsement, I'll just be right back where I started with this whole stupid mess. Do I want this all to be for nothing?!

: But on the other hand, I can't see either of the losers fighting over the throne using the Anvil any more responsibly than King Valtor did, so history will inevitably repeat itself. Probably before the end of the coronation parade. And why would I need an army of golems when Shale is all the golem I need? Besides, I can just bring back Branka's head or something and tell the Assembly that her final wish was to do whatever I say to do. The Stone led me to her, and the Stone would never lie.

: Regardless of what I do, I'm pretty sure that Oghren and Branka will be on a break for the foreseeable future. That being said, he probably won't like it if things turn ugly with Branka. But... Shale still seems incredibly loyal to Caridin, now that it-er, she- is starting to get her memories back. I have a feeling she'll get upset if I don't do what Caridin wants.

Wynne hasn't said a word in ages, but she'll probably go with the option that allows her to be the most self-righteous and the most anti-blood-magic. Call it Warden's Intuition.

Next Time: How Do You Solve A Problem Like The Anvil of the Void?

Codices:

(Urist's face tat is from the Legion of the Dead collection, but that was an accident of the method I used to create her look. Unless you'd like to give me credit for being all deep and philosophical, in which case I absolutely meant to do it.)

(We knew almost all of that information from previous Urist Adventures, but the codex on Lyrium sums it all up nicely.)

Special Note: Oghren and Wynne each have a new specialization point, so they need a new specialization! You can vote for that too!

Oghren can subclass as a Champion, a Templar, or a Reaver (thanks to the Respec mod.) Keep in mind that Alistair is already a Templar.

Wynne can subclass as a Shapeshifter or as an Arcane Warrior (the Respec mod doesn't make Blood Mage available to us unless we earn it, which Urist was unable to do.) Keep in mind that Morrigan is already a Shapeshifter, even though we never use those skills.

The Stone would never lie.

I don't know what your fancy words mean, but Reaver and Arcane Warrior sound fun.

I'm with Mogri. Whoever ends up dwarf king, it's not like they'd share their golems with us anyway.

I'm sure there can be no downside to giving an obvious madwoman the means to forge an infinite army of living superweapons wait this sounds like a terrible idea.