Just a BioWare Fan

After another round of bridge and stairs, we reached the lowest level and slew the Darkspawn guards. From the smell of it, we faced a cul-de-sac filled with tainted flesh. Rank gobbets covered the floor in various shades of nasty and dangled from the walls much as it had in the Deep Roads beneath Orzammar where I’d first faced—and defeated—a broodmother. Pods like those from which various childer forms had sprung along our path lined what little distance we could see.

We may never find The Architect’s main lab, the place where he’d kept the bulk of his research and presumably a stronghold for those converted Darkspawn who remained on his side in this conflict, but I hoped that he was one of the few, if not the only one, who knew how to make and administer his “cure”. That he had sent so high a lieutenant to draw me to The Mother’s lair lent me hope that he had committed most of his forces in the long string of recent battles and perhaps the two sides had reduced each other’s numbers to the point where we could eliminate both factions.

I don’t know how she found out we were coming, but the first thing we found inside the gates of Vigil’s Keep was Kristoff’s wife, Aura. Ohgren swears he didn’t tell her so I can only assume she tracked her husband to the inn in Amaranthine, discovered we had been there first, and gone after him. We’d been gone only a few days and Ohgren’s return the previous evening would have perhaps given her reason to expect us. Had I been prepared I would have spoken to her before she saw her husband’s body, looking decidedly the worse for wear but walking and talking still.

As it was Anders barely managed to catch her as she fell fainting. He looked absurdly proud of himself, standing there holding an unconscious—but admittedly attractive—woman in his arms and I squelched a ridiculous stab of jealousy. Was I really so badly spoiled that my affections leapt to the nearest available man who happened to remind me of Alistair?

When Aura stirred Anders set her delicately on her feet once more. She thanked him absent-mindedly, her eyes devouring the somewhat dessicated face of Kristoff’s body. The moment she understood the situation she stormed off, seeming to believe, despite the stricken look on all of our faces at the accusation, that we had purposely inflicted Justice on the conveniently-deceased body like some sort of twisted necromancers.

Blackmarsh proved to hold werewolves, Darkspawn, and a haunted air, indeed. Though the village had fallen to ruins the manor house remained, brooding and mist-hidden. We found Kristoff’s abandoned camp and then, unsurprisingly, his body.

It would have done my heart good to find one member of the Order who had Joined before the Blight. Every time a more-senior member of the order comes to Ferelden something horrific happens to him or her. All of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden died in the betrayal at Ostagar, Riordin fell to (or, more literally, from) the Archdemon, and the dozen who came from Orlais after the Blight ended were lost to The Architect’s machinations. I never had a chance to know any of them, outside of a few days’ travel with Duncan and three conversations with Riordin.

That Alistair and I persist in being the longest-term members of the Grey Wardens in the whole country strikes me as a cruel joke of the ancestors at this point. It had been so long since anyone had heard from Kristoff that I held little hope of finding him alive if he still remained in the bogs. Yet I had still clung to that wish that one time fate would have paused in conspiring against the Wardens here long enough to bring me this small bit of solace. I should have known better.

One Warden from the keep appears to have been absent during the attack into which I walked upon my arrival. Kristoff thus was not among the dead in The Architect’s terrifying pit. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until recently that I tracked down someone who could tell me where he had gone. It seems he followed a lead into the Swamp of Despair or some such place and has not been seen since. Now that I’ve reestablished trade and wiped out the bandits who were terrorizing the streets I finally have time to pursue him.

It seems the Blackmarsh, as it is truly named, holds some special fascination for the people of Amaranthine. The village there was mysteriously abandoned years ago and I have found widespread superstition about the place. Nathaniel seems keen to go on this trip and so he, Ohgren, Anders, and I set off in the morning. I would have preferred to stay in the city of Amaranthine one more night rather than trek all of the way back to Vigil’s Keep, well out of our way, but Seneschal Verel sent word of some urgent matters that required my attention.

Along the way I asked Anders something I’d long wanted to know. He’d told me stories about his time hiding from the Templars on each escape and how nasty they were on the way back to the Circle tower each time. But I’d never inquired why he kept escaping in the first place. “I was a child like any other,” he told me. “My parents told me I could do anything and I believed them. Then I got hauled off to the tower.” He made a sour face. “Before my harrowing I understood the watching, the guarding. None of us had proven ourselves and we were a bunch of scared kids taken from home and locked up together. I hated it but I understood.” His eyes narrowed in anger. “But once I’d passed my harrowing and shown that I could resist the demons that the Chantry seems to think pursue us every moment nothing changed. Templars stared and kept their hand on the hilts of their swords as though I would burst into flames and tear out their throats at any second.”

It seems the ancestors insist on my bringing an angry mage on my journeys. We did find much of interest regarding our Darkspawn dilemma but we also found a furious elf who went from trying to kill us all to becoming a Warden the better to join us in bringing down The Architect, as he calls himself.

Velanna has definitely proven herself adept in battle. I only hope that she does not harbor some secret agenda, like Morrigan, that will require so painful a decision. Thus far she seems focused solely on saving her sister. We encountered some of her clan mates and discovered that she had been exiled, much as I once had, but apparently she has no mythic mother that needs destroying. Her sister certainly does not seem able to turn into a dragon or crush us with a glance, though I fear she must be tainted and on her way to becoming a ghoul after so long in the company of the Darkspawn.

It turned out that Velanna had been the one terrorizing travelers along the trade route. She’d believed false evidence planted by the Darkspawn and thought that humans had kidnapped her sister and slaughtered her friends. Not only did the idea that Darkspawn could bait such a trap stun me but her inability to see through such a near-obvious ploy made me concerned. I’ve come since to believe that her guilt and grief that everyone else who had joined her in exile had died had made her easy to fool. Though curt and quite private she has shown intelligence enough to counter that first impression.