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[ZerbanDaGreat1]

(This story is up on FanFiction.net with 14 chapters. Fell free to follow the link and review it there instead http://www.fanfictio.../Life_on_Thedas)

 A/N: I know what you're thinking. 'Oh, another self-insert, so original!' Then you're going to read this chapter to see if it's awful enough to be a trollfic. The difference here is that I'm going to put in effort. Everyone's going to be in character, VERY limited plot warping and… well why don't you stick around and find out for yourself?Dragon Age: Origins is owned by Bioware and EA Game. The song 'Life on Mars' belongs to David Bowie, and the TV show Life on Mars belongs to the BBC. I am he is you are he as you are me and we are all together – I mean, I am me. Read on, dear viewer.

It's a god-awful small affair/to the girl with the mousey hair…

Life on Thedas

Prologue: Pilot'

Vexations. Piece for solo piano. Music of Erik Satie. Three lines of music. Tritones in every chord. Trés lent for a tempo marking. Thirty-four chords. One bass line to be played twice after that. Eight hundred and forty repetitions of all of the material. Maximum running time of approximately eighteen to nineteen hours. In its entire performance history, it has never been played by a single player. Those that tried had to stop due to hallucinations.'I had just finished reading Mass Vexations and the sequel the night it happened. Looking back on it, it was such obvious foreshadowing I would have kicked myself upside my head had I known what was going to happen. I remember when I finished I looked up from my desk. I didn't have many PC games, but displayed prominently were Dragon Age: Origins and Awakening. I had recently finished a complete run of the game,Awakening and Witch Hunt included.I also remember what I said.

"Being inside Dragon Age would probably be cool too."

God, what a moron. I want to punch past-me in the mouth.

I remember what happened afterwards as well. I got a call from some friends. They wanted me to come and hang out with them that night. I accepted. When I got in the car, I looked in the mirror. The face that looked back had short dark brown hair and blue eyes, clean-shaven. It was a fairly uneventful drive, ironically enough. That was until I heard what sounded like a scream. I stopped the car so fast I thought the brakes would screech. I turned off the engine and listened.

I couldn't hear anything else. I turned the car back on and turned up the radio. I was only half-listening to it when I heard another scream. Louder. Closer. This time I reacted instantly. I practically leaped out of the car and stood in the middle of the deserted road. I stared intently into the blackness that faced me, trying to penetrate it. It was creeping me out.

I heard a noise behind me.

I turned, and suddenly the noise was coming from all around me. It was horrible, like a thousand insects buzzing inside my ear all at once. It sawed at my brain, and I clutched my ears. The noise built up to a fever pitch, and I looked up over the roof of the car. In front of me was something I never thought I'd see. It was as if the air had torn like a huge cloth. Something was inside the hole I physically couldn't focus on. When I tried, my eyes just slid away. I'd had enough. Hands over my ears, I stumbled backwards, anything to get away from the sound.

That was when the car hit me.

I had parked past a bend in the road. The night hid me until it was too late for the driver to stop. The infernal noise stopped me from hearing the car until it was right on top of me. It felt like a rhinoceros had charged me, and I felt myself roll up onto the bonnet of the car, bouncing off the windshield. I rolled back off and landed hard on the road, burning pain permeating every part of my body. I heard the car keep going. No witnesses.I was fighting to stay awake. Darkness was eating at the edge of my vision, but the pain was excruciating. In m

y struggles I managed to roll over, and suddenly that weird rip was back in my sight. It was the last thing I saw before I fell unconscious. The last thing I heard? David Bowie on the radio.

But her mummy is yelling "no"/and her daddy has told her to go…

The pain was back, but not as bad as it had been. In fact, it seemed to have moved a little. I groaned, rising from my brain-addled sleep like I was trapped under a thick layer of tar. I shifted a little, wondering if anyone had picked me up and taken me to hospital. I took in a grateful breath of fresh air.

Then the smell hit.

It was the coppery smell of blood, coupled with the smell of rot and decay. What little food I had in my stomach rose with a vengeance. I rolled onto my stomach, raised myself onto all fours and hurled. It was then I realized that I was sitting on grass, not bitumen. I opened my eyes. Yes, definitely grass. Had I been moved to the side of the road. Then I looked up.

Bodies. Bodies as far as I could see. Men lay dead all around me, strewn about like a massive child had decided he'd had enough of his army men. They lay broken, smeared with blood and cut open like sacks of meat. The early-morning twilight made it hard to see, but it was a small mercy. The man next to me had his face frozen in a rictus of terror, and I started away from him. What the hell had happened here?

I looked again, realizing for the first time what the dead men were wearing – armour. Medieval armour, to be precise. Most were only in leather or chainmail, but I saw a few wearing heavier plate. Broken and bloodstained shields lay strewn around, as well as a few discarded helmets. I slowly crawled away, trying to find somewhere away from the bodies. It was then I realized something else. I was wearing armour as well. It was leather armour, boiled until rock-hard. I touched the part just above my injury and felt the leather had buckled. It was as if someone had hit me with a mace. I looked up, desperate to find anything that might explain where I was and how I got here. I got my answer.

There were ruins nearby. I knew what they were. I knew what they were called. My lips formed the word, but no sound came out.

Ostagar.

But her friend is nowhere to be seen/Now she walks through her sunken dream…

I ripped off my helmet and ran my fingers through my hair, refusing to believe it. This is impossible, I told myself. This can't happen. You read about this in fanfics, but it DOESN'T HAPPEN! I was hyperventilating and this point – understandable, really. I slowly stood up, equal parts frightened and wary. I had no idea how long it had been since the battle at Ostagar. I didn't know if there were Darkspawn still around.

"Oh Christ, oh Christ what do I do?" I muttered to myself, hysterical. My armour was smeared with blood, and I was injured. Had I been part of the battle? Was I a different person in this universe? First things first, I have to get away from this place. Those bodies… I can't look at them.

There was a sword lying on the ground. I picked it up, and was surprised at how heavy it was. People are supposed to use these with one hand? I untied a scabbard from a dead man's belt, feeling dirty as I did. I stumbled away from the battlefield, feeling sick and alone. My thoughts whirled as I tied the sheathed sword to my belt. Barring the other questions, what was I here for? Was I supposed to join the Warden's party? If so, then I was screwed. The Warden ends up at Flemeth's hut after the battle, and then Morrigan guides them out of the Wilds to Lothering. I was stuck at Ostagar without even knowing which way was north!

I heard a metallic clashing noise. I stopped dead in my tracks, my hand going to the hilt of my stolen sword. It was coming from deeper in the forest. Whoever it was, it was company – something I needed. I dashed off towards the sound, my thoughts still whirling almost completely detached from my body.

How the hell am I supposed to get home?

To the seat with the clearest view/and she's hooked to the silver screen…

I finally came to the source of the noise. I was standing on top of a small escarpment just within the Kocari Wilds proper. Below me were five figures and three corpses. The corpses seemed to be Darkspawn, as were four of the figures. The fifth was human. He was wearing heavy chainmail and wielded a mace and shield. As I watched he battled the four Darkspawn. His movements were slow and jerky, as if he were wounded. He was jarred by several strikes to his shield, and countered with a crushing blow to the head of a Genlock. The small Darkspawn crumpled, something dark and wet leaking from its cracked skull. The warrior paced back, putting some space between him and his three remaining opponents.

The Darkspawn came on. I realized that there was a Vanguard amongst the attackers, wielding a massive greatsword. The blade was almost as long as I was tall! The warrior ducked a wide sweep and countered with a smash to the Vanguard's stomach. The Darkspawn's armour held, and it returned with a pommel-strike. The heavy piece of metal caught the warrior dead in the forehead, and he crumpled. I heard what sounded like a guttural laugh, and the Vanguard raised its sword.

"NO!" I yelled. The world was still and silent for a second that seemed to stretch forever. The Vanguard slowly turned to look at me. The Hurlock and Genlock accompanying it jeered at me, eager for another victim. I jumped down the short gap and drew my sword. It didn't make the impressive shing sound I was expecting. I held it up in both hands, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I thought it would burst out. A part of me was regretting drawing the Darkspawn's attention. The Vanguard seemed to order the other Darkspawn to go after me, and turned back to the warrior. There was a loud crunch and the Vanguard growled in pain. The warrior's mace was buried in its groin, one of the places with the weakest armour. The Vanguard toppled and the warrior hammered its helmet until it caved in, dark blood leaking from the eye slit.

That just left me to deal with a Hurlock and a Genlock. Without any prior experience with a sword. This was going to suck.

Take a look at the lawman/beating up the wrong guy…

I had to make a decision fast. I still didn't know if I could take them. I knew the Darkspawn at Ostagar were weak because it was the start of the game, but this was real life. Everything – even the unpleasant gory details – were so close to life I was having a hard time believing it came from a video game. More importantly, the Darkspawn were frighteningly detailed. The Genlock looked like a psychotic dwarf, ready to pounce on me and eat my head. The Hurlock was taller than me, its face a mess of sickly grey flesh and bloodstained fangs. They were going to kill me. My sword wavered and I was about to turn and run.

"Don't be afraid, boy!" the downed warrior called. "They bleed and die like any creature!"

Except their blood can taint you if it gets in you and then it turns you into a mindless ghoul or something worse and- STOP THINKING! I raised my sword, faking confidence. My thoughts raced. Genlocks had less health in the games, right? I should go for it first. I swung wildly at the Genlock, stepping to my right to get closer to it while moving further away from the Hurlock. The Genlock easily dodged, and I had difficulty bringing the sword up again.

"Parry!" the warrior bellowed. I spun, my sword flying up. By pure chance it collided with the Hurlock's twisted black sword, knocking it away from me. There were no dramatic sparks, but there was a jarring impact up my arm. I danced away.

"Press the attack, boy!" the warrior yelled. I swung reflexively and caught the Hurlock off-guard. It had been starting a swing of its own and hastily diverted to parry. It was a clumsy parry, one that left my sword close to its body. Lashing out, I scored a small cut on its right shoulder. Dark blood began to leak from it, but the Hurlock showed no reaction.

"Good!" the warrior continued, "Don't let your guard down!" I swung again, a wild backhand chop. It knocked aside the Genlock's shortsword and knocked it off-balance. I lunged and swung again. The weapon's length worked in my favour, the tip cutting into the Genlock's throat. Its eyes bugged out as blood pumped from the wound.

"Behind you!" the warrior shouted. I dived to the side, landing flat on my back. The Hurlock's thrust cut the air where I had been. I tried to get up, but the Hurlock was on me before I could move. It swung for my head and I hastily parried, but I lost grip on my weapon. The sword dropped to the dirt, but before I could grab it the Darkspawn kicked it aside. I kicked up desperately, my foot striking it square in the stomach. The Darkspawn seemed winded and staggered back.

"My shield!" I looked to my side. The warrior had slipped his arm free of his round metal shield and slid it over to me. I hooked my arm into the straps and lifted it up just as the Hurlock came back for another attack. The strike rebounded off the shield with an ear-splitting clang, jarring my arm. Another strike was blocked.

"Use your shield!" the warrior yelled. I took the hint, and slammed the edge of the shield into the Hurlock's knee as hard as I could. Too hard, apparently, as I heard a sickening crunchand saw the Hurlock buckle. I didn't try to get up – I just rolled over to the sword. The hurlock hobbled after me, its swings rebounding off my shield. I snatched up my sword as my right leg scythed out. The Hurlock toppled, and I managed to scramble to my feet. It was incredibly hard holding the sword and shield up at the same time, but with all the adrenaline pumping through me I managed it.

The Hurlock drew back its arm for a massive forehand swing. I charged, my shield high and close on my left side. I let out a strangled, hysterical yell and plunged my sword into the Hurlock's chest. It stopped, and blood oozed from the wound. I wrenched the blade out and staggered back, watching the Hurlock die. It held a hand to the wound and staggered towards me, arm still raised. Finally, it tripped and fell. It was dead.

At which point I passed out.

Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know/he's in the best selling show…

"Wake up! Wake up, boy!"I cracked open an eye. It was the warrior I'd helped, crouched above me. Great – I was still in Dragon Age. I groaned and sat up, my sword and shield suddenly feeling like they were made of lead.

"Next time, remember not to hold your breath," the warrior remarked. "It's the mistake everyone makes their first time."

I noticed the dark blood covering the blade of my sword. I wiped it on the grass, well aware of what Darkspawn blood can do. I sheathed it and looked over to the warrior.

"And to whom do I owe my rescue?" the man asked.

Crap in a bucket! I hadn't thought of this. Should it be an Aerith or a Bob? Think of a fake name, think of a fake name…

"My name is… V… Ventus," I stammered. What the hell? Why, of all the names I could have picked, I chose that one! Hopefully in a universe with names like Niall or Uldred…

"Good to meet you, Ventus," the warrior replied. "My name is Malcolm."

Phew, I'm safe."Please, call me Ven," I said. Oh God, next think you know you'll be sounding like Jesse McCartney. I stood up, and offered a hand to help the injured warrior. He refused.

"My wound's getting worse," he said. "Damn Darkspawn got me with a dagger while I wasn't looking. I've got bandages in my pack – it's over there."

So I guess health doesn't automatically regenerate after a fight anymore – and when someone says they need bandages they actually get them applied. I dug through Malcolm's backpack, past some food and water and found some bandages. I returned, and Malcolm showed me his wound. It looked pretty bad. Malcolm hoisted off his chainmail and his dirty tunic. I wrapped the bandages as tightly as I could and knotted it. I pressed my hands as hard as I could against the wound. Malcolm hissed in pain, but the bleeding seemed to slow.

"That actually feels a lot better. Thank you," he said. He put his armour back on and stood up, walking slightly unsteadily back to his pack.

"Do you have a map?" I asked, wondering if this was my way out of the Wilds.

"Don't need one," he replied. I was puzzled, then suddenly it hit me.

"Are you Chasind?" I asked.

"Smart boy," Malcolm said, shouldering the pack. "I'll be wanting my shield back, though."

I gave it to him. "You must be a great warrior. You killed five Darkspawn all by yourself!"

Malcolm shrugged. "It's what I do." As he said this, he wiped some Darkspawn blood off his face. It smeared, partially dry, and he seemed to get a little in his mouth. But he didn't seem to care. Did that mean… ?

"Are you… a Grey Warden?" I asked.

"Right again, boy," Malcolm replied. "The last one, it seems. Unless Duncan's new recruit made it out alive."

New recruit. It has to be the player character. The only question is, who is it? There isn't a canon Warden, unless you count the one in the Sacred Ashes trailer. At this point Malcolm took off his helmet, and I noticed he had a tattoo. It looked just like the one on the Sacred Ashes Warden. Wait, wasn't there supposed to be a Chasind Origin at one point? I'm actually looking at another PC Warden!

"Can I come with you?" I asked. "I have to get to Lothering."

"Sure, lad," Malcolm replied, patting me on the shoulder. "Just leave the Darkspawn-slaying to me. At least until you learn how to hold that sword."

Malcolm moved off. I followed him, thoughts whirling in my head again. What had happened back home? Were my friends worried? Were my family looking for me? How was I going to get home? Most of all, had I just fought two Darkspawn and won?

Welcome to life on Thedas, I thought glumly.

Is there life on Mars?

Modifié par ZerbanDaGreat1, 06 février 2011 - 08:20 .

[errant_knight]

I've been reading this over on FF where 13 chapters are up, and I really want to encourage people to give it a read. It's a lot of fun.

[ladydesire]

An... interesting story perspective; I wish I had thought of it.

[DahliaLynn]

Thoroughly enjoyed this! A wonderful read Have a link to the rest of the chapters?

[ladydesire]

http://www.fanfictio.../Life_on_Thedas

[ZerbanDaGreat1]

Thanks for the comments. I'll update this periodically - the more comments the faster . I'll also update whenever I get a new chapter done. Also I'll add a link to the FF.net version for those of you with accounts.


 A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; after a freak car
accident, our hero finds himself on the battlefield of Ostagar. Arming himself,
he saves the life of a Chasind Warden named Malcolm. Now he journeys to
Lothering, hoping to catch up to the mysterious Warden.

 

Chapter One: Introductions

 

One of the major things I quickly learned about the Dragon
Age universe upon arrival was that everything is a long way away. I longed for
a loading screen to break the tedium of the endless trek. I was growing
paranoid that Darkspawn would attack, but remembered that Grey Wardens can
sense Darkspawn. Then I remembered that a whole keep full of Wardens gets
ambushed by Darkspawn in Awakening, and realized that Grey Warden abilities are
wildly inconsistent. Malcolm was a quiet travelling companion, but a nice
enough man. When we first stopped to make camp, I asked him how far it was to
Lothering. He told me we'd get there when we got there.

While Malcolm started the fire, I stepped away from the camp
and drew my sword. It still felt way too heavy, and I had to hold it with both
hands to keep it steady. I did a few practice swings.

"You're doing it wrong." I turned. Malcolm was
watching me.

"You're holding it like a club," he went on.
"A sword should feel like an extension of your arm. You don't 'swing' a
sword, you guide it."

I adjusted my grip and tried a forehand swing. This time I
tried just holding the sword and moving my arms. It felt a lot easier, and it
took the weight off my wrists and distributed it more evenly along my arms.

"Good," Malcolm said. "Now twist your body
when you strike. Put the weight of your body behind the sword."

My swings became more energetic. I was moving in time with
the blade, shifting with the flow of my strikes. I was only able to keep it up
for a short while when my arms began to burn. I lowered the sword, panting. I
definitely needed to get into shape – but I already had a fairly strong build.
I sheathed my sword and sat down across from Malcolm.

"Not bad for a farm boy," Malcolm remarked.
"A few years and you may even achieve mediocrity."

He shared some of his food and water with me. I only had a
little, still feeling sick from the battlefield. The meal was silent for a
while.

"So," Malcolm piped up between chews, "Where
do you come from, boy?"

"Very far away," I replied. Well, it was true.

"What about your parents?" He went on. "Do
they know you joined up?"

My parents. Oh God, what must they be thinking? They must
think I'm dead! I never got to say goodbye to them…

"N… no," I said finally. "I snuck off one day
and found the army. They probably don't know where I am."

"Then what does Lothering hold for you?" Malcolm
asked. "Your parents would not be there."

"No," I replied, "But hopefully someone else
will."

Should I tell him? How do I justify it? Well, it can't
really hurt…

"I heard that two Grey Wardens were at the Tower of
Ishal when the King was overrun," I said. "I'm hoping that they
survived the battle. The way I see it, Lothering is the best place to
start."

Malcolm nodded. "As for myself, I do not know. I may be
the last Grey Warden in Ferelden. Even if some of my brothers and sisters did
survive, we cannot achieve much. Our armies were broken at Ostagar, and I fear
the nobles will not settle their differences soon enough."

I nodded. Oh, you have no idea Malcolm. I just hope you're
at the Landsmeet when the Warden convinces everyone. That was always my
favourite part.

Malcolm helped me build a shelter for myself. I took off the
top half of my armour and rolled it up as a makeshift pillow. You know the
other thing the games didn't really show? How ball-freezingly cold it is in
Ferelden. I shivered and tossed and turned, but I eventually fell into a fitful
sleep.

The next day we set off after a short breakfast. I decided
to strike up a conversation with Malcolm, asking him how I should go about
training with my new sword. He explained that while I had the basic physique
for it, I didn't have enough fitness for an extended battle. So he told me I
had to travel with my sword raised and his shield up. I instantly regretted
talking to him. When we stopped for the night, he gave me another quick lesson
in sword work.

We travelled like this for a few days, and each night I was
so exhausted I fell asleep instantly, not caring about the cold. Malcolm was
getting stronger too. He changed his bandages less frequently and walked
normally. At long last, we came to the highway that led into Lothering. Then as
we approached Lothering we practically tripped over a slaughtered company of
bandits.

"These men died very recently," Malcolm said,
checking the bodies. "Two people at least, one of them a mage."

That would be Morrigan. It seems the Warden of this universe
– besides Malcolm, that is – decided to murder the bandits as well. Malcolm and
I left the highway and approached Lothering. I glanced to my right at the
refugee camp. The game hadn't properly shown just how crappy it was. There were
sick and injured people everywhere and most looked like they were starving. I
winced and looked away.

"That's the realities of war, lad," Malcolm said.
He greeted a farmer standing nearby and asked if he'd seen any more survivors
from Ostagar, particularly Grey Wardens. The farmer's expression hardened at
the words.

"You a Grey Warden too?" he asked suspiciously.

"I am," Malcolm replied, growing irritated.
"What of it?"

"You'd best clear off, then," the farmer sneered.
"I know where my loyalties lie. I won't help traitors."

"What?" Malcolm sputtered. "Traitors? Explain
yourself!"

"We know what you people did," the farmer spat.
"You killed King Cailen. Your kind would have been the end of us all if
Teyrn Loghain hadn't pulled his men out in time."

"I have had enough of this," Malcolm turned away
furiously.

"You're not going anywhere," the farmer said.
Malcolm looked back at him, confused.

"I couldn't take the last two that came through,"
the man said threateningly, revealing a hidden club, "But this time I
brought friends."

I spun, drawing my sword. Three men appeared from the crowd
of refugees, clutching axes and hoes. Another man each side appeared,
completing the circle of six men around us. I ended up back-to-back with
Malcolm, my sword ready. The farmer's faces were twisted into snarls of hatred,
and it honestly terrified me. Darkspawn were one thing, but I didn't know if I
could kill another person. Then something happened I didn't expect.

Malcolm laughed. It was a loud, braying laugh. It carried
across the space and made the farmers pause. Malcolm ran a hand across his face
and smiled dangerously at the farmer.

"This is it?" he asked, amused. "This is all
you could spare? I have killed more Darkspawn than you have had days of life.
Dealing death is as commonplace to me as breathing."

Malcolm's smile disappeared and he gave the ringleader a
dangerous glare.

"I would advise you to return when you are ready."

The anger drained away from the scene. The farmers shifted
and fidgeted awkwardly, waiting for a signal from their leader. He glanced at
each of his men, and realized that what little confidence they'd had was now
draining away in the face of the Warden.

"You get to live another day, Warden," he snarled,
and left. His men left as well, none wanting to be the last facing the angry
Grey Warden. Once they had all gone, Malcolm sighed. Good work with the
Intimidate check, Malcolm! Someone put points in Coercion, I see.

"This is bad," he said. "Now my authority is
a curse. I cannot stay here, unless I want the entire village up in arms at my
presence."

"But where are you going?" I asked, suddenly
worried. So far Malcolm was the only friendly person I'd met, and I didn't
think I could find the Warden alone. Malcolm sensed my worry and patted me on
the head. He wordlessly handed me his shield, and I took it.

"I'm sure you'll find who you're looking for,"
Malcolm reassured me. "I will stay in the Wilds for a time, and monitor
the Darkspawn. When tensions have cooled, I will return."

Malcolm turned away from me. I wanted to call out and ask
him to stay – but I didn't. I let him walk away, and watched him disappear into
the forests of the Wilds. It was then I finally realized what had happened.
Malcolm would have died if not for me. By helping him, I'd changed the course
of Dragon Age's story. Now even if I did find the Warden, I would have to deal
with a wild card hiding behind the scenes. I shook my head and turned away,
hand on my sword. I couldn't waste time now. I had to find the Warden.

I could barely believe it. A few days in Ferelden and I'm
almost lynched. I walked straight past the tavern, figuring the Warden had
already been there and recruited Leliana. I decided that I'd go to the 'zone
exit' and see if Bodahn and Sandal were there. If not, I'd know that I'd missed
the Warden.

"Stay away!" I heard a voice yell. That was
Bodahn's voice. I jogged towards it, sword half-drawn. I came to the highway
and saw Bodahn and his son being menaced by Darkspawn. This was it! The Warden
has to come here and see this event! All I have to do is wait!

I waited. I watched. The Warden didn't come. I looked back.
The Vanguard backhanded Bodahn, knocking the dwarf to the ground. I was
confused. That didn't happen in the games. The Warden should have been here…

Oh no. This is just like Vexations. The PC was in different
places at different times there, too. If that's the case, that means Bodahn's
going to die if I don't do something! I see six Darkspawn there – a Vanguard,
three Hurlocks and two Genlocks. I don't remember if it's the same as in the
game, but I know I have to do something. I drew my sword quietly, trying not to
alert them. I gripped the handle so tight my knuckles turned white, and I
breathed deep. You can do this.

I can't really be doing this. I'm not about to take on six
Darkspawn by myself. But I know deep down that I have to. I know that it's the
only way I can join the Warden and have a fighting chance getting myself home.
I headed right, parallel to the highway, and clambered up the hill where it
rose to meet the road. After a short struggle I was on the highway behind the
six Darkspawn. The two Genlocks were closest, armed with bows. I crept closer,
my sword still feeling too heavy for one hand.

I swung. The blade hacked deep into the Genlock's throat,
killing it near-instantly. I turned to the next and killed it with a surprise
backhand chop. The Darkspawn heard me, and the remaining four turned to meet me.
I huddled behind my shield, scared out of my mind. I was going to die unless
somebody helped me.

The Vanguard charged me, swinging its greatsword up over its
head. I dodged to the left, and the sword smashed against the ground
harmlessly. My sword whipped up in response, but bounced harmlessly off the
Darkspawn's helmet. I danced back out of reach, my leather armour letting me
stay light on my feet. The Hurlock on the left and right attacked
simultaneously. I stepped to the left and swung my sword wildly. The left-hand
Hurlock parried it easily, but I ended up out of danger. The Vanguard came at
me again, swinging wide and flat this time. I ducked under and tried to counter
again. The blade bounced off its stomach plate, and I stumbled on. The third
Hurlock came after me. I spun and took the blow on my shield, the shock making
me stagger back. I tried a retaliatory strike, but the Hurlock parried. Acting
out of desperation, I Sparta-kicked the Hurlock. It stumbled and tripped,
toppling off the highway. I didn't know if it was dead, and I didn't care.

The first Hurlock came at me again. I tried to ward it off
with a forehand swing. It parried the blade aside. My body was still moving,
and my shoulder slammed into the Hurlock's chest, knocking it over. Before I
could try to capitalize on this, the second Hurlock and the Vanguard came at be
at the same time. I darted away, but the Hurlock was too fast. It slammed into
me, and I pitched over onto the ground. We rolled over, and the Hurlock ended
up on top. It pinned my shield-arm with its knee. I desperately fended its
sword-arm away, knowing that there was no way out of this situation for me.

An arrow sprouted from the Hurlock's neck. It just went limp
and toppled off me. I scrambled to my feet, and looked up. It was Leliana. She
was still in her Chantry robes, and as I watched she nocked another arrow in her
shortbow. It skittered off the Vanguard's chest-plate, not penetrating its
thick armour. The Vanguard apparently forgot about me, charging towards the
Orlesian bard. Sten appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He was only wearing his
default clothes, but he hefted a greatsword just as large as the Vanguard's. He
parried a strike from the Vanguard and countered with a mighty smash, buckling
the Darkspawn's stomach-plate in. Alistair charged into the fray, ramming into
the Darkspawn with all his body weight behind the shield bash. The Warden
appeared, and within seconds a longsword was protruding from the Vanguard's
throat.

It was definitely a female Warden. Her dirty, sweaty blonde
hair was pulled back into a ponytail, save for two errant bangs that hung out over
her forehead. She pulled her sword out of the Vanguard's throat and sheathed it
on her back, where I noticed a shorter sword hung as well. She was wearing
chainmail. I noticed that her eyes were dark brown, and her face was adorned
with a complex black tattoo. I realized that I recognized her.

"Elisa Cousland?" I asked, sheathing my sword.
What would the Warden sound like? She must have a voice, if DA is realistic in
this universe. Will she sound like Jennifer Hale? No, too obvious.

"Not anymore," she replied. "I gave up that
name to become a Grey Warden. Even then the Grey Wardens aren't exactly popular
these days."

Yes! She sounds like Kari Wahlgren! Now I can pretend I'm
adventuring with Elika.

She spoke to Bodahn, who thanked her profusely. The group
gathered on the highway, and I couldn't help but stare. They all looked so
real. Morrigan had lazily strolled into view, not bothered that she'd missed
the fight. I could pick out all the little details, like Alistair's stubbly
goatee and the way Morrigan's fringe hung over her eyes. The Warden finished
speaking with Bodahn and turned back to me. Ok, this is it. Time to make it or
break it.

"Warden?" I started. "My name is Ventus. I
was at Ostagar, but I came to Lothering looking for you."

Elisa looked suspicious. "How did you know I was
alive?"

"I didn't," I lied quickly. "I heard that two
junior Grey Wardens weren't in the battle. I hoped they were still alive."

Don't mention Alistair, you're not supposed to know him.
Come to think of it, never under any circumstances mention how he's next in
line for the throne-

"Well you found me," Elisa replied. "What do
you intend to do now?"

Moment of truth. Here we go.

"I want to join you on your mission," I said
quickly. Almost at once Morrigan and Alistair groaned.

"Interesting strategy, Warden," Morrigan commented
in that odd singsong voice of hers, "Are we reduced to picking up stray
puppies for our quest?"

"I agree with Morrigan… for once," Alistair added.
"Shouldn't be a little, you know, selective?"

"The poor boy came all the way from Ostagar to
help," Leliana said, always the nicest party member. "I think we
should give him a chance."

"He looks weak, inexperienced," Sten said shortly,
his voice deep and rumbling. "He is unfit for battle."

Wonderful. Votes have been cast and only one person wants
me. I suppose I shouldn't have expected any different.

Elisa suddenly looked distracted. "Where is that bloody
dog?" she asked. The giant Mabari hound bounded out of nowhere and trotted
to Elisa. He nuzzled at her armoured leg, leaving swathes of dog-slobber along
the metal. Curious, the Mabari turned to me. He trotted over and sniffed,
growing interested. Could he smell my dogs on me, even after inter-dimensional
travel? The Mabari sat down with a clearly-audible thump and wagged his stubby
little tail. I reached out fearlessly and gave the warhound a pat. He closed
his eyes and leaned into it, obviously enjoying it.

"Well Barkspawn likes him, at least," Elisa
chuckled, apparently having named the dog just like I did. She patted the side
of her leg in a clear signal. Barkspawn immediately turned and trotted over to
his master. He sat down by her side, gazing at me with his adorable puppy-face.

"Why do you want to join me?" Elisa asked. Oh
great, she's running the gamut of conversation options before she recruits me.

"You're a Grey Warden," I said matter-of-factly.
"If I want to help stop the Blight, you're my best bet."

"You'd be travelling with an apostate, a quinari
murderer and two enemies of the crown," Elisa pointed out. "Some
would call that dangerous."

"You say 'dangerous', I say 'interesting'," I
replied. Morrigan raised an eyebrow.

"What could you add to my party?" Elisa went on.
Oh jeez, this isn't my strong suit.

"I will admit, I'm inexperienced," I said. Yeah,
that's an understatement, "But even without formal training I've managed
to kill six Darkspawn by myself. That has to say something." It says that
was luck, you idiot. You almost died five seconds ago.

"You could probably train me to do whatever you want me
to," I went on. "Worst comes to worst, I'm an extra sword and an
extra shield. That's the best I can do."

"Got a mysterious or tragic past?" Elisa asked.
Wait, what?

"Huh?"

Elisa grinned, "I only recruit interesting people, like
in the old tales. Was your village destroyed by Darkspawn? Are you seeking
revenge for an old injustice against your family? Have you lost your memory and
now search the world for clues as to your past?"

"I'm a traveller from another world forced here against
my will, and now I'm trying to find a way home," I say, straight faced.

"You're in," Elisa replied, cracking a smile.

Morrigan sighed and rolled her eyes. I could practically
hear the message Morrigan Disapproves ping up. Alistair shrugged, happy with
Elisa's choice. Leliana smiled. Sten remained stoic as ever. I'd finally joined
the party. What remained to be seen was how useful a party member I'd be. It
seemed I was going to be a sword and shield warrior, but I'd probably be of
limited use considering how Alistair filled that role.

Bodahn provided me with some camping equipment of my own,
and the party set off soon after. Once the sun began to set, I helped everyone
set up camp. Morrigan decided to be her antisocial self and set up her own camp
fifty metres from everybody else. I pretended to learn everyone's names from
Elisa to stay in character. Elisa explained to me what I already knew, and
something else. Apparently she was taking Alistair's advice and going to
Redcliffe first. It was an odd choice, but I couldn't exactly dispute it. As
Elisa called Barkspawn to her side and forged off into the woods with a bow to
hunt down our dinner, I felt glad I hadn't made her a Stupid Evil Warden.

I still couldn't believe it. Here I was camping out with
some of my favourite characters from one of my favourite games. The problem was
that none of them knew me, and it was awkward introducing myself to them all. I
started with Alistair first, figuring he was the most easy-going.

"Hey… Alistair," I said, stumbling over my words a
little.

"Oh. Hi..."

"Ventus, but call me Ven."

"Ventus," Alistair repeated. "What brings you
here?"

"I just wanted to get to know everyone else," I
said.

"Oh, well you came to the right place. Stay away from
Morrigan, she's a horrible ****. Leliana seems… nice, but she seems an
Archdemon short of a Blight."

"And Sten?"

"I've known him for a day, and he hasn't said a word to
me," Alistair replied. "You know he was in a cage for murdering
people? Elisa just let him out so he could join the club."

"A quinari would be pretty useful in a fight," I
pointed out.

"I'm just worried I'll wake up and find he's left me on
an island with no pants," Alistair said. "Anyway, I've still got some
setting up to do."

I moved on to Leliana. She was humming some tune, and I
introduced myself.

"Oh, hello Ven," she said in that French accent of
hers. "It's nice to see someone so dedicated to helping us."

"Not really. This is the only place I could go, to be
honest," I said. "I feel like the only way I can get back to my
normal life is if I help you all do what you have to do." Which is true,
in a way.

"That doesn't matter. You're a normal person called up
to great responsibilities. It's just like in all the old stories," Leliana
explained. I smiled. That's Leliana – supernaturally sweet. Liara's got nothing
on her. I just hope Elisa doesn't harden her in her personal quest.

"Thanks for making me feel welcome, Leliana," I
said. Well that was nice. On to the two party members most likely to physically
harm me. I approached Morrigan's campfire with some trepidation. There was a
dead rabbit lying next to her tent, and another roasting over her fire. I had
the distinct impression she'd turned into a wolf and hunted them herself, which
surprisingly enough did absolutely nothing to calm my nerves.

"Oh? What brings a boy to my tent?" she asked in
that familiar, mocking, sarcastic tone. Her gaze flicked over me, and I got the
feeling she was sizing me up. Her expression led me to believe that she was
dissatisfied.

"Um, I just wanted to meet the people I'm travelling
with. That's all," I said. Damn it, don't stutter!

"But have you not heard?" Morrigan asked in mock
surprise. "I am a dreaded witch of the Wilds. Perhaps you have heard the
stories of how I change into the shape of a wolf and steal babies from their
cradles?"

"That sounds like something you'd do," I replied.
Her eyes bored into me. Wait, was that the right dialog option? I think it's
one that raises her approval, but I don't remember. GAH!

"Perhaps," Morrigan said coolly. "Those
skills have served me well, regardless."

"I've never heard of magic like that before," I
said, eager to keep a hold on the conversation.

"I imagine that would be due to practitioners of such
arts having to evade capture by the Circle," Morrigan replied. Wait, her
dialog's different. Do the same responses work? Let's give it a try.

"That's good. Such traditions need to be
preserved," I said.

"Indeed?" Morrigan seemed genuinely surprised at
my response. "Was there anything else you wished to discuss?"

"That's all I wanted to ask," I said. Now Morrigan
should interru-

"What do you think of my talents, then?" Morrigan
asked. "Am I an abomination to be burned at the stake for my crimes?"

Ok, what's the next option? I can't remember! All I remember
is one of the joke responses. Hopefully she won't disapprove -20 or something…

"Maybe tied to a flagpole and tickled," I replied.
Morrigan barely reacted, simply returning to her meal. I left, letting out a
sigh of relief. I'd successfully navigated that minefield. Now all I have to do
is go talk to Sten and I'll be all set!

"Hi Sten."

"Hello."

"Do you have time to talk?"

"No."

"Ok."

I probably need more time before I can talk to Sten.

I went back to my tent, pulling off my armour and laying it
down beside me. I curled up on my bedroll, the whole situation still incredibly
surreal. But as I lay there, my thoughts drifted home again. They say you don't
know what you've got until it's gone. I missed my home, my family and my
friends. I was stuck farther from them than was humanly possible, and I had no
idea how to get back. I just hoped with all my might that I would get out of
this, and have a chance to get home.

[XanderCz]

This is awesome, very nice!



Looking forward to the other chapters.

[DahliaLynn]

Please do continue posting your chapters. You can't be a fan of the game and not feel completely immersed

[ZerbanDaGreat1]

A/N: Last time on Life on Thedas; our hero's companion left him to travel alone. Our hero managed to join the Warden's party, and they now journey to Redcliffe to enlist the help of Arl Eamon. I should note that a lot of the dialog here is paraphrased, so keep that in mind if you see glaring inconsistencies in the dialog. Also, if you know of any unique party member interjections like Morrigan's or Sten's featured here then please tell me about them so I can work them in.



Chapter Two: King of the Hill



I woke up. It was still ridiculously early in the morning, the sun only the faintest sliver of silver on the eastern horizon. I wasn't going back to sleep any time soon, so I stood up and put my armour back on. The morning was absolutely freezing, and I hugged myself to keep warm. I turned around and noticed a familiar shape. The Warden was standing outside her tent without her armour, only wearing her tunic and pants. Her hair was unbound, reaching past her shoulders. She picked up her swords and unsheathed them, the blades winking in the twilight.



As I watched, she began to move. Her arms extended, she swung her swords around herself. It looked like she was fighting invisible enemies in slow motion. Her routine sped up, her swords whipping audible through the air. She ended the routine with a flourish and remained still for a few moments, panting lightly.



"Morning," I said. Elisa started and turned.



"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked, sheathing her swords.



"I wake up early away from home," I replied. "You?"



"Bad dreams," she said shortly. I knew what she meant. Her Grey Warden nightmares were acting up. Normally Alistair talks to her about it, but I suppose my presence had already changed some things.



"What do you mean?" I asked, walking over to her.



"I saw... the Archdemon," she replied, pulling her hair back into its ponytail. "It was talking to the horde, down in the Deep Roads. For a second, I thought it was talking to me."



"Maybe it's a Grey Warden thing?" I proposed innocently.



"Maybe," Elisa said, musing. "That wouldn't be the first thing the taint's done to me. I actually feel stronger now. I got my fitness routine done in record time."



"I wonder why more people don't become Grey Wardens," I said, the lies coming easier.



"Alistair told me last night. Grey Wardens only live thirty years after the Joining, give or take."



I hadn't really thought about it before, but having it come up in a real conversation, I paused and thought about it.



"It's probably not as bad as it seems at first," I said. "Fifty years is still a long time to live, assuming you Join young."



"So fifty years in exchange for protecting Ferelden would be a good trade-off for you?" Elisa asked.



"Yeah... I suppose," I replied. Not that I'd want to. I still have a home to go back to, and Earth isn't exactly a place that requires a Grey Warden. Assuming I'd even survive the Joining. Besides, no chance of anything happening until Landsmeet, so I'd have to talk to Riordan about any of that.



"Warden..." I said, still not able to call her by her name without feeling awkward, "I said before I needed training. Could you help with that?"



"For starters we'd need wooden swords, unless you want to run the risk of us stabbing each other," Elisa remarked, making me burn with embarrassment. "I'll see what we can scrounge up at Redcliffe. Until then, you're free to join me in my morning routine. Just a warning; I get up early."



The sun had risen more, and substantial sunlight was starting to creep over the campsite. Barkspawn crawled out of his bed next to Elisa's tent and trotted over. Elisa went off into the woods with the Mabari in search of more food. An hour later Elisa came back with a dead deer across her shoulders and we ate in relative silence. We pulled up camp and set off down the road towards Redcliffe.



"So, do you do this often?" Alistair asked me suddenly. I almost tripped in surprise and momentarily lost grip on my pack. It took a few seconds to process that I was experiencing the party banter system from the perspective of a party member.



"Do what?"



"Oh, you know, follow a person you've never met through miles of Darkspawn-infested forests to join them on their suicide test?" Alistair went on, deadpan.



"Only on weekends," I replied, "Normally I have to crawl fifteen miles in the snow barefoot up a hill."



"Some people would find behaviour like that off-putting," Alistair remarked.



"Speaking from experience, Alistair?" I shot back, smiling. "Something the leader should know?"



"I should think not!" Alistair said with mock-severity. "I was raised to be a paragon of virtue. Following people around was reserved solely for the priests I didn't like so I could sneak rancid cheese into their sandwiches when they weren't looking."



"Remind me never to sit next you at mealtimes," I said.



"You will never see it coming, for I am Alistair, the Cheese Master! Mwuhahahaha!" Alistair let out a melodramatic, villainous laugh. To illustrate the point he produced a piece of cheese from his pouch and ate it. I laughed, and we shared a smile. It was good to know I could at least count on him and Leliana. It also struck me that I had no idea how old Alistair was. His voice actor was 40, but he always acted like a teenager. Meeting him in person, he was only a little taller than me – but I was pretty tall. I figured it didn't matter enough to worry about.



Morrigan looked over at us, and looked mildly indignant. "Have care where your eyes linger, Alistair."



"Oh, well don't worry, it's not what you think," Alistair responded, "I was looking at your nose."



"And what is it about my nose that captivates you so?" Morrigan asked. Fair point – I'd imagine her barely-covered breasts bouncing in the breeze would be a more perky- I mean, pertinent conversation topic. They're more obvious than Miranda's for crying out loud!



"I was just thinking that it looks exactly like your mother's," Alistair shot back.



"I hate you so much," Morrigan hissed under her breath. Alistair pretended to mishear, and snickered. We all continued the monotonous trudge, and as we walked I started to wonder if I could start party banter myself, considering I was a full-fledged party-member now.



"So Morrigan," I asked, "Did you grow up in the Kocari Wilds?"



Bad move, apparently. "Why do you ask me such questions? I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?"



"You could if you wanted to," I replied. Well, not really. I'd have to lie to you, and I somehow think you'd pick up on that.



"Then you will be pleased to know that the minutiae of your life concern me not," Morrigan shot back. Wow, I just can't win with this woman.



"But to answer your question, yes, I 'grew up' in the Wilds. They were the only home I knew. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"



"Haven't you ever left the wilds?" I asked, shifting my course to end up closer to Morrigan.



"In time, I grew curious," Morrigan admitted. "I left the Wilds to explore what lay beyond. Never for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness."



"But you kept going back?" I asked, this question genuine. To be honest, I've never seen the appeal of 'nature'.



"As I said, they were the only home I knew," she replied. "You wish to return to your home once our quest is done, do you not?"



"You have no idea," I sighed.



"But my visits stopped one day when I was caught stealing from a dignitary," she said.



"Daring," I said, "Sounds like you."



"I was a fool for being caught, in any case," she waved away my compliment. "A Chasind man saw me, and called for the guards to arrest me. I fluttered my eyelashes and played the damsel in distress. People saw him chanting in his foreign language at a frightened little girl, and he was taken away."



"That was quick thinking," I commented. What can I say? I didn't want the apostate hating me for however many months it was going to take to stop the Blight.



"I am not without my wiles. Flemeth taught me that much. But there are still so many nuances of human society that she could never explain," Morrigan complained. "For example, the touching! Why all the touching?"



"Touching? Like a handshake?" I asked.



"Exactly. Why must people touch one another simply as a greeting? Is it wrong to expect respect for my personal space?" Morrigan went on, "And yet here I find myself, cast out by my mother in such a society."



"Well... I'm glad it worked out this way," I replied. Morrigan seemed momentarily confused, but said no more. I lapsed into silence again, and the party continued on. That night we made camp again, and Alistair taught me some exercises to strengthen my sword arm and how to use my shield more effectively. I was definitely going to need it once we got to Redcliffe.



Sure enough, we reached it a week later. It was about midday when we reached the bluff overlooking the village, and the party gathered to enjoy the view for a moment. We noticed the villagers down below were wearing armour, and they were hard at work. The villagers that weren't training were busy shoring up the barricades around the Chantry. Elisa noticed one of the villagers jogging towards them, and she moved to meet him. He quickly explained the situation – undead were attacking the village and they were vastly outnumbered. Elisa ordered him to take her to Bann Teagan, and we followed him down the steep hill into the cove Redcliffe village occupied. The Chantry doors were heaved open and we entered, greeted with a crowd of women and children all huddled together in fear. I was reminded of the Lothering refugee camp. I looked away.



We approached the man I knew to be Teagan. He looked absolutely exhausted, with bags under his eyes and dishevelled hair. There were a few rips in his clothes where bandages showed through, evidence of the night's fighting. To be honest, he looked good for someone who'd spent the last few nights fighting undead without a moment's rest.



"It's... Tomas, yes?" he asked. "And who are these people with you? They're obviously not simple travellers."



"No my lord, they just arrived, and I thought you would want to see them," the man replied.



"Well done, Tomas," Teagan said, and turned to us. "Greetings, friends. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the Arl."



"I remember you, Bann Teagan," Alistair interjected, "Though the last time we met I was a lot younger and... covered in mud."



"Covered in mud?" The penny dropped for Teagan. "Alistair? It is you, isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news!"



"Still alive, yes, though not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it," Alistair added bitterly. I'd almost forgotten about the Grey Wardens being outlawed. Probably because it doesn't end up hindering you much.



"Indeed," Teagan agreed, "Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, amongst other things."



"No, not all of us are dead," Elisa said.



"So... you are a Grey Warden as well? A pleasure to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances," Teagan said politely. I suddenly remembered that female Wardens could blatantly hit on him, and hoped that Elisa wouldn't – especially if she's going to romance Alistair like she did when I played through. Though since Alistair didn't tell us he's heir to the throne, she must not have raised his approval much.



"You are here to see my brother?" Teagan asked. "Unfortunately, that might be a problem. Eamon is gravely ill. No one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts. The attacks started a few nights ago. Evil..."



Teagan paused as he tried to think of a word to describe them. "Things... surged from the castle. We drove them back, but many perished during the assault."



"I can help you drive them back," Elisa said, her voice heavy with determination.



"There are no darkspawn here, and nothing to gain. It is a fool's errand," Sten rumbled. Boy howdy, you are going to be pissed when we go to Haven.



"If there's a chance we can rescue the arl, we have to try," Elisa responded. Nice to see her throwing her Coercion around – and again I'm glad I made a good Warden.



"How pointless, to help these villagers fight an impossible battle. One would think we had enough to content with elsewhere," Morrigan remarked, seemingly bored. I'd almost forgotten how much of a troll she could be.



"Thank you! Thank you, this... means more to me than you can guess," Teagan said gratefully. "Tomas, please tell Murdock what transpired – then return to your post."



Teagan explained how we could help the village's defence. Already my mind was racing. Sure, in the game you were limited to doing a few things – but in real life, we could seriously change things... except if I get it wrong a village full of innocent people will die. Gee whiz, I feel confident about this! That is, of course, assuming that the universe doesn't decide that it wants me dead and spawn several hundred more undead than the game had. That would just be fan-tucking-fastic. As we turned to leave Elisa struck up a conversation with a crying woman in the corner, whom I recognised as a sidequest giver. She tearfully explained how her mother was dead and her little brother was missing.



"If he has foolishly run off then he is no doubt dead. You should get used to that fact," Morrigan commented, stopping just short of pulling a trollface.



"Nice," Alistair shot back. "Maybe you want to kick her in the head while you're at it?"



"Shall we comfort her with lies? If she is to face death, better she face it honestly," Morrigan countered coolly. She would have a point if it weren't for the fact the boy is currently rooting around in his house for a sword about as big as him. With pretty good stats, actually...



We left the Chantry, and Elisa glanced at the sky. The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon. We didn't have much time to dilly-dally. Elisa chatted briefly with Murdock and gave the whole village a quick once-over.



"Alright team – opinions," Elisa asked.



"We are all going to die," Morrigan said casually.



"Fantastic," Elisa said flatly. "Alistair – anything as morale-boosting?"



"Not really," Alistair admitted. "It's not like I can do much – the undead aren't known for their spellcasting."



"I think we should do what we can to bolster morale," Leliana added. "And see if there are any more people who could fight."



"I will oversee the building of fortifications," Sten said shortly.



"Alright then," Elisa said. "Sten, you go do that. Alistair, go help Ser Perth and his knights. Leliana, check the tavern and see who's there. Ventus, you'll come with me. Morrigan..."



Morrigan raised an eyebrow.



"You do whatever."



We split up. Elisa and I went to Kaitlyn's home looking for her brother. We walked in, and we both heard movement inside the cabinet across from the front door. Elisa just walked up and knocked on the door.



"Go away! This isn't your home!" the boy inside tried to act tough.



"If you don't open up I'll break down the door," Elisa sighed.



"All right, I'll come out!" The boy stumbled out of the cabinet. "Please don't hurt me! I'll go back to the chantry if you want! I didn't mean any harm!"



"Your sister is looking for you, you know," Elisa mentioned.



"I just... didn't want to be at the chantry anymore. Everyone's scared, and I want to be brave."



"How is hiding in a dresser being brave?" Elisa asked, slightly amused. The boy explained that he was here to get his grandfather's sword and use it to fight the undead. When he admitted it was too heavy for him, I knew how he felt. Elisa persuaded him to let her have the sword, and we left the house with a magical sword in tow. I noticed Dwyn's house, and remembered he was available for recruitment too. I definitely wanted a veteran dwarf on our side during the fight, and his two thugs wouldn't hurt either. It'll also make it easier when we come back during Sten's personal quest.



"Hey, I heard that house belongs to a dwarf named Dwyn," I pointed out to Elisa, "We could use his help during the fight." We walked over, and she knocked on the door. No answer. She called, but there was still no answer. I shrugged. Elisa sighed heavily.



"Stand back," she said. She took a few steps back.



"Could you let me try it? I've always wanted to," I said. Elisa shrugged. I squared up with the door, and drew my foot back.



"THIS. IS. SPARTA!" Thunk. "OW, CRAP!"



I stumbled back, clutching my leg. Elisa raised an eyebrow. She kicked the door, and it blasted out of the door jamb like it had been shot out of a cannon. I limped inside after Elisa, mumbling something about how I'd weakened the door for her. We found Dwyn and his two thugs, and oddly enough he didn't take kindly to someone busting his door down. Elisa glossed over this minor fact and set straight to convincing Dwyn to help defend the village. He was understandably disinclined to help a stranger who'd kicked in his door, but Elisa promised that she'd put a good word in for him if he helped.



Outside, I pretended to notice the abandoned grocery store too. Elisa was confused as to why I found this relevant, but brightened when I pointed out the big freaking barrels of flammable oil lying around inside. We returned to the town square with this information, starting to feel better about the coming battle. As we arrived, we spotted Leliana coming down the hill, leading a splintmail-clad elf by the ear.



"I found a spy in the tavern," she explained. "He says he was hired by one of Arl Howe's men."



Elisa's expression hardened. She walked slowly towards the elf, her face near-unreadable. She grabbed the elf and hauled him closer, drawing her short sword and holding it against his neck.



"You work for Howe?" she asked dangerously.



"No! One of his men hired me! I was just supposed to report changes, and I haven't even managed that!" the elf pleaded. Elisa held his gaze for a long time.



"What's your name?"



"Berwick," he replied.



"Well... Berwick..." Elisa said, "You're staying in the village. You're going to help us fight tonight. I'll let the undead decide to let you live or not."



"Oh thank you, thank you my lady!" Berwick gushed. Leliana let him go and he raced off. Elisa massaged the bridge of her nose and sighed. It was pretty weird, actually. It was like she'd turned into a different person. She sheathed her sword.



"What was that about Howe?" I asked, only partially staying in character. The Warden had only been capable of outbursts like that during Landsmeet when I played. I was starting to doubt my certainty that Elisa would follow the script I had laid out for her. Fear trickled into my thoughts. What if she changed things? I wouldn't be able to predict the outcomes. I'd lose the one advantage I had.



"Later," Elisa said shortly. "Once we've survived this."



Leliana mentioned that she'd convinced Lloyd the barkeep to not only offer the militia free drinks, but also take part in the battle. Elisa didn't ask how she did it, but I had a feeling it had involved the skills she'd been taught in her sordid past.



Alistair came back down the hill. "The knights want holy protection. I'm just popping over to the Chantry to ask the Maker if he'd pretty please help us just this one time because we've been so good this year."



"The Revered Mother probably has some holy symbols – say she blessed them or something," Elisa replied.



"But we can't just manipulate these men with their faith!" Leliana objected.



"It doesn't matter in the end – it's all for morale's sake," Elisa explained. "Ventus, any last-minute ideas?"



I was frozen on the spot for what seemed like an inordinately long time. I didn't do well in the spotlight at the best of times, and talking in front of the entire party was a challenge. I finally forced my mouth to start working again.



"I know we're expecting the undead to come from the castle, but doesn't it seem like we're leaving ourselves open? They could come from the lake. I think we should build some sort of barrier at the shore. It doesn't have to be much, just enough to slow them down."



Elisa was nodding, the cogs in her head visibly turning.



"Also, I noticed a slat bridge overlooking the square," I went on. "If we got the village archers up there, they'd have perfect line-of-sight with any undead at the fortifications while staying out of reach. Plus it's narrow enough that a few warriors could protect the archers if need be."



"Not enough men," Elisa replied. "With all the archers on the bridge, with or without guards that leaves only a handful of men to guard the doors. Teagan wouldn't be able to defend the chantry himself if they broke through, and we wouldn't be able to get there in time."



Elisa sighed. "At this point, our best hope is to bunch up and fight hard. Not the best tactical situation, but it's the best we can do given the circumstances."



We stopped back at the chantry to talk to Kaitlyn and the Revered Mother. The Revered mother gave up the holy symbols easily enough once Elisa repeated her point about morale. Kaitlyn was grateful to have her brother back, and Elisa offered to pay for the sword. She flicked a fat gold sovereign to Kaitlyn, who accepted it gratefully.



"An honourable act," Sten commented. Elisa was obviously headed for his good side. Morrigan... not so much. We trudged back up the hill for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Alistair piped up again.



"Were you really in that cage for twenty days?" he asked Sten.



"It might have been closer to thirty. I stopped counting after a while," the quinari replied.



"What did you do? I mean... twenty days is a long time to sit in one place and do nothing," Alistair pressed.



"On good days, I posed riddles to the passerby, offering them treasures in exchange for correct answers," Sten responded in the exact same serious tone he always used.



"Really?"



"No."



"Awww, too bad. That's got serious potential."



Ser Perth got his 'holy' protection, and we went down to the blacksmith Owen's house. Elisa sweet-talked him into letting us inside, and we filed in after her. The smell that hit me was so horrible I almost passed out on the doorstep.



"Somebody's been drinkiiiing," Alistair commented.



Owen explained about his daughter Valena, and how she was still trapped in the castle. Elisa promised to find her.



"Oh, lovely," Morrigan commented, her usual insensitive self. "Shall we next begin rescuing kittens from trees?"



"Is this a promise we will not keep?" Sten asked, sounding irritated.



"Let's hope not," Morrigan replied.



"What's this?" Owen asked, not hearing them.



"I said nothing to you, human," Sten said shortly. I'd forgotten that Sten could be an ass as well. Owen finally agreed to start repairs again, and we walked out of the blacksmith feeling satisfied.



We had done pretty much all we could to prepare the village. Repairs would be pretty much done by sundown, we had well-armed knights who believed themselves to be divinely protected, three veteran fighters, an elf archer and oodles of flammable oil. It was going to be close. I helped everyone who could be spared construct the secondary barrier along the shore of Lake Calenhad, and by sunset it was all done. The militia clustered behind their barrier outside the chantry, many drunk off their faces but all feeling reasonably confident. Elisa led the party up the hill again to stand by Ser Perth and his knights, as well as Dwyn's trio and Berwick. The majority of the oil had been poured around stacks of flammable wood at the mouth of the village entrance, ready to be lit by a flaming arrow from Berwick. The rest of the barrels were stored in the grocery, but anyone who went there would find the rest of the barrels empty.



"Scared?" Elisa asked. I tried to summon up a witty line, but just nodded instead.



"Stick close to us. We'll get you out of this, don't worry."



I wasn't so sure. I had thought I could handle it, back then with the sun still high in the sky with everyone around. Now the sun slipped lower and lower, every centimetre bringing us closer to the fight. My sword seemed to be getting heavier every second, and sweat collected uncomfortably under my armour. I was wearing a new helmet, and it killed my peripheral vision. I could barely see Alistair on my right or Elisa on my left. To my embarrassment, I started shivering – but it wasn't cold. I was facing, at the very best, six solid hours of fighting against overwhelming numbers. I wasn't trained. I'd only survived my last two fights from sheer luck.



To be honest, I wanted to run. If the party hadn't been there, I would have run off without a look back and never thought about Redcliffe village. Elisa's presence was like a restraining hand on my shoulder, keeping me rooted to the spot. My breathing was getting shallow and fast. I tried to hide it, tried to slow it down and breathe deeper. It wasn't working. I was practically hyperventilating. Whether it was noticeable or not, nobody mentioned it.



Alistair donned his helmet, giving his sword a few practice swings. Sten was wearing scaled-up chainmail, his massive greatsword seeming small in his hands. Leliana remained in her Chantry robes, preferring to stay light on her feet and away from hand-to-hand combat. Morrigan readied her staff, magical energy flaring at the gnarled tip.



I stood there, wearing resized scale armour Owen had made for me, clutching my sword, hefting my shield, and wondering if Elisa would get us out of this alive.

[Ardinal]

Awesome read. Experiencing Ferelden without being able to pause or wait for a loading screen offers an interesting and at times scary perspective. Good work.

[ZerbanDaGreat1]

Last time on Life on Thedas; the Warden's party reached Redcliffe only to find it besieged by undead. The Warden's party aids in preparations for its defence, and now waits in darkness for the undead to arrive.



Chapter Three: Tower Defence



The night was incredibly still. There were no crickets. No sound from the village below, no small animals. The only noise was the soft clinks of our armour as we shifted uneasily. I tried to calm myself. You've done this a million times before, right? A big green cloud pops up right before they attack, then after a few waves they attack from the lake. Sure you usually come here after the Circle so you have some levels and equipment, but how hard can it be? I shifted from foot to foot, the silence maddening. My thoughts were buzzing like a crowd of insects. Something had to happen, something had to break this impenetrable blanket of quiet -



"How long do we have to wait?" I blurted out, shattering the silence and masterfully making myself the centre of attention. I wanted to disappear through a crack in the ground under their withering stares. At that point, I would have taken the zombie invasion just to kill the moment. Oh wait, should I be calling them zombies? They're undead, but not the kind that shamble and bite you. These stove your head in with a mace. But calling them undead is a little generic, so – stop talking to yourself!



I heard noise from below. It sounded like the townspeople had spotted the invaders. I craned my neck, and spotted the cloud of poisonous-looking green gas crossing the bridge. The people below were obviously busy arming themselves, but I had the wonderful opportunity to sit around and wait for the zombies to come. Or undead.



The first of the undead came. They were vague silhouettes, distinguishable by the odd jerkiness of their movements. It was too dark to pick out the details, and for that I was mildly grateful. We waited until they had advanced a little closer.



"Light the traps!" Ser Perth ordered, "Burn these foul creatures!"



At least in reality the melee party members won't charge through the fire like idiots. Berwick threw a torch into the flame trap. It was a curved line of oil-soaked kindling and other spare bits of wood, clustered on oil-soaked grass around more barrels of oil. It went up in an impressive fireball, the heat wave drying my nervous sweat. A couple of flaming undead stumbled around before toppling over. I was starting to feel more confident about the defence when more of the undead poured through. Engine limitations had reduced the invading zombie 'horde' in the game to a handful every minute or so. This was a full battalion, each carrying a rusty-looking sword, axe or mace. They shambled through the fire, even the wall of flame incapable of halting them.



"Steady!" Elisa ordered. Her voice was like a rod of iron. It compelled me to act when my mind rebelled. It gave me the strength to stand and face the first walking corpse to reach me. I was suddenly aware of all the details the game had spared me. 'Rotten' was an understatement. The flesh of this creature's face was grey and bloated, distended like a funhouse mirror. It seemed to be oozing off the skull in slippery sheets, and even over the smell of roasting corpse I could smell the sickly sweetness of death.



Its mace came down. I deflected with my shield, returning with a forehand chop to the midsection. My sword easily hacked through the desiccated flesh but was stopped short by its ribs. The undead showed no reaction, drawing back its mace for another strike. I pulled my leg back and kicked out into its midsection, knocking it off my sword. I followed up with a massive strike, like I was pitching a ball. This blow was strong enough to cut clean through, and my first undead opponent was dispatched. Now I just had another 53,595 to go. I noticed Sten bisect one with a single massive swing. Alistair broke the neck of another with a vicious chop to the throat with the edge of his shield. Leliana and Berwick were peppering the oncoming group with arrows, managing to drop quite a few before they reached us.



Elisa, meanwhile, was chopping away with both swords without a care in the world. She moved effortlessly in her chainmail, her off-hand sword striking hearts and parrying swings while her main sword cut off heads and limbs. Morrigan was having some fun, too. Lightning arced periodically across the group, and I thought I saw a fireball.



I managed to kill another corpse with a lucky decapitation, and turned to face a rather monstrous one I didn't recognise from the games. It was at least a head taller than me, wearing the remains of black armour and wielding a sword. I hastily parried a swing with my shield, and my counter swing was parried too. I stumbled back from a second strike and lashed out wildly. My sword found a gap in the armour on the zombie's left arm. Or was that undead? In any case, the limb in question dropped off like dead weight. There was the briefest of pauses as we both stared at the stump.



The undead came at me again, swinging. I punched its remaining arm with my shield, and moved out of the way. I swung again, and the corpse's right arm came off too. There was another pause, longer than the last. It charged at me again, madly gnashing its rotten teeth. I ducked aside and slashed out. The creature's right leg detached like a wet tissue, leaving the corpse a triple amputee. It seemed to consider the injuries.



"You've only got one leg left," I said. Another pause. "I'll take that too."



The corpse started to hop towards me, painfully slow. I sighed and rolled my eyes, giving it a final slash. Its last leg popped off and the torso dropped to the earth. The head was still alive, making unholy noises at me.



"Alright, we'll call it a draw," I said in a British accent, and giggled hysterically. Great, the universe makes me want to soil myself and consoles me with the Black Knight. I pulled my gaze away from the torso and noticed the rest of the party had cleaned up without my help. I tried to feel happy about my grand total of three zombie kills. I definitely wouldn't have made it if that car had knocked me into Dead Rising or Resident Evil. But at least in Dead Rising I wouldn't have to contend with anyone in MY STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!



"The monsters are attacking from the lake!" We turned to look as Tomas arrived at the top of the hill. "They're attacking the barricades! We need help!"



"Stay here and guard the path!" Elisa ordered. The knights, Dwyn and his thugs nodded. We set off down the hill after Tomas. An annoyance in the day, it felt outright murderous at night. I tripped on an innumerable amount of things invisible in the dark, almost rolling down the hill most times. It didn't help that the moon was barely visible from behind a cloud of thick fog. With nothing for light but as many torches as we had been able to make that day, it was downright awful conditions for a fight.



As we neared the chantry we could pick out the details of the battle. Corpses were coming in from the lake shores in a steady stream, slower than up the path by still a danger. The men at the barricades were struggling bravely, sending waves of shafts into the silhouettes while hacking at any corpse that got too close.



"Ventus, Leliana, help the left flank!" Elisa barked. "Morrigan, Alistair, right flank! Sten, with me!"



She dived right into the fray, her swords cutting with roughly the same efficiency of an industrial lawnmower. Sten was more the equivalent of a walking brick outhouse holding a sledgehammer. The pair visibly divided the horde as they took the path of least resistance. A descending chop from me cleaved a helmet in two and got my sword stuck in a corpse's skull. As I struggled to pull it free Leliana dropped three with arrows to the forehead.



"Move up!" Elisa shouted. "Funnel them, stop them from surrounding us!"



I heard lightning crackle and smelled burn flesh. Morrigan was acting on the order. Leliana moved steadily forward, sending a storm of arrows into the crowd. I stayed as close to her as I dared, my shield covering more of her than it was of me. She dropped corpses like a turret, but unfortunately she didn't have infinite ammo like in the game. Leliana fired her last arrow and slung her bow into a holster on her back. She whipped out two short swords, her stance making it clear she knew how to use them.



A zombie came to meet us, mace swinging. I blocked it with my shield, a wave of pain shooting up my arm. Leliana ducked under my shield and stabbed up into the zombie's chest, quickly pulling it back out and cutting its throat with her other sword. It tumbled back, and Leliana let out a sharp exhale of approval. Another zombie shambled over, raising an axe. Leliana dropped her off-hand sword and scooped up a handful of dust, flinging it into the creature's eyes. Blinded, it couldn't react as Leliana circled it in a heartbeat and impaled it. I darted forward to shield Leliana, just in time to catch another blow.



This continued for a time. I started to get into a sort of rhythm. I let Leliana do all the killing and busied myself protecting her. She grew more daring in her attacks, growing to trust my shield work. At last, she decapitated the final zombie. We stood there, panting, taking advantage of the pause in combat.



"Steady, men," Elisa called over the square, squinting into the gloom. "We have a lot of moonlight left to burn."



A few people took the chance to bandage themselves. A man was dragged into the chantry, his leg badly mangled by a mace strike. A small boy raced out of the chantry, carrying several spare quivers of arrows. Leliana got priority given her performance with her bow, and I noticed Elisa string a longbow for herself. Apparently the Cousland of this reality had more weapons experience than her game counterpart.



"We almost let some through on the left flank," Elisa said, scanning the battlefield. "Ventus, you weren't aggressive enough."



I made a vague apologetic gesture.



"Leliana, move back to the chantry doors and pick off any you see getting through. Make your arrows count," Elisa went on. "Alistair, you come with Sten and I. We'll cover the left and the centre. Morrigan, take Ventus and stay mobile."



Morrigan simply nodded. We quickly moved to our new stations. The odd pause in the fighting gave us some time to catch our breath. Morrigan seemed particularly tired – I guess spellcasting is pretty exhausting. I squinted into the gloom. At least we still had light.



The universe promptly displayed that, yes, it hated me and wanted me to die in a fire. A strong wind picked up, blowing my hair into my eyes. The torches that encircled the barricade fluttered in the gale and went out, all at once. The moon moved behind some thick, dark clouds. The village was plunged into near-total blackness. My heart beat so fast I thought I would burst. I thought I could hear things moving in the dark. I backed away, and bumped into what I thought was Morrigan. We stood back-to-back, and she lit a fireball in her hand.



"GET THOSE TORCHES RELIT!" Elisa bellowed, cutting through the men's terror. One scrambled into the chantry to grab a candle from inside. A new wave of zombies was coming, and the men were wavering. Elisa, Sten and Alistair stood steady at the head of the group, unaffected.



" 'Tis no ordinary wind," Morrigan said. "I doubt the torches will be relit in time."



I remembered my plan. I slung my shield onto my back and ripped the closest torch out of its bracket. I held it to Morrigan.



"Light it."



"What?"



"Just light it!" I insisted. "Keep it lit, I don't care how!"



I'm sure Morrigan would have objected to being ordered around any other time, but the desperation in my voice won her over. Magical flames erupted from the torch, flickering unnaturally.



"If you expect me to be able to keep all the torches lit at once against this wind, you shall be disappointed," Morrigan remarked. I didn't reply. I just turned and ran. Morrigan called out to me, but I ignored her. I knew I wasn't going to get a spurt of courage like this again anytime soon. I charged into the darkness, Morrigan's magical flames seeming woefully insignificant against the cloying black night. I prayed that Morrigan wouldn't let the fire out.



A zombie loomed out of the darkness ahead of me. I smashed my sword into its face, the desperate strength behind the blow folding its helmet into its skull. I ran on, towards the lake. The lakeside barricades finally appeared in the flickering torchlight. Unfortunately, so did the crowd of zombies crawling from the lake. I raced towards the barricade, torch outstretched.



A mace swung up out of nowhere. It connected with my arm, and unimaginable pain shot through me. I screamed in agony, and the torch sailed out of my grip. It arced over the barricade and landed on the shoreline. I staggered back, my left arm on fire with pain. The bracer on my left arm had bent inwards from the strike, and it felt like the bone was broken. I cradled my arm and looked up and the oncoming zombie.



I rushed at it. The zombie had no time to react before I rammed my head into its face. My entire body weight, reinforced by my helmet, met its decaying face. It almost exploded, toppling backwards to the ground. I groaned in pain, my arm refusing to move. I looked up. Morrigan's torch was still alight. I had to reach it. I crawled over the barricade, my arm eliciting fresh howls of agony. I landed hard on the ground and almost didn't want to get up. The endless shuffling of the undead spurred me on, and I could still hear fighting from the village square.



Come on. Come on. It's just a few metres. You can do this. RUN!



I came up from my prone position like a sprinter. I dived across the shore and landed almost on top of the torch, skidding as I did. I rolled over and jammed it into the barricade.



The results were even better than expected. Soaked in the entire surplus of oil, the barricade went up like a napalm bomb. The fireball was so impressive the heatwave almost rolled me over, making my eyes burn. The heat was oppressive, and it spread quickly to cover the entire shoreline. At this point, I realized the flaw in my revised plan – I had no way back to the village square past the firewall.



Heh. I fell into a burning ring of fire. No, focus you ****! I tried to get up, but something clamped onto my leg. I turned and yelled in horror. The zombies were crawling from the lake and grabbing at me. In revenge for cutting off their access, they were going to pull me into the lake.



They were going to drown me.



I pulled out my sword, but the angle was just too awkward to swing it with any strength. The feeble cuts I made barely fazed the corpses at all. I felt myself sliding towards the water, and dropped my sword to scrabble at the dirt. They were too strong, and I was dragged kicking and screaming into the water.



My armour weighed me down. I managed a few hasty breaths before I was pulled under. I was infuriatingly close to the surface, still on the shore, an arm's reach away from air. They held me, stared at me with their rotten eyes. I flailed and kicked, but it was useless. My lungs burned. My vision darkened.



I was going to die.



Beep. Sssssh. Beep. Ssssssh. Beep. Ssssssh.



"Any change?"



"Still no signs of brain activity."



"Everything else?"



"Just fine. The broken bones are healing well. Still no word on the guy that hit him. It was an isolated road. No witnesses."



"Doesn't matter at this point. No reason to sugar-coated it – he's brain-dead. The mother's flying in to make the call."



"Isn't there any chance he'll wake up? People have gone a while in comas before."



"They showed some sort of brain activity. This guy's a mental flatline. The lights are on, but there's nobody home."



Oh god, they think I'm braindead! I'm not! I'm alive! HEY! HEY! LET ME OUT! I WANT TO GO HOME! LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT LET ME OUT



"Oh ****, did you see that?"



"Brain activity's spiking like crazy! Guy must be having a serious nightmare – quick, get the nurse in here."



I'M ALIVE!



An upwards motion, pulling me away. I'm rising through layers of something. I desperately cling to the scene, the vague senses I have slipping away. Words turn to dull roars, then nothing. I float in blackness. I feel wet. A hand grabs me and pulls me up.



I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE I'M ALIVE



"I'M ALIVE!" I yelled.



"I can see that!" someone answered. I sat bolt upright, and winced as pain shot through my arm. I was back on the shores at Redcliffe. I was alive. Was that a... dream? It felt like a nightmare. I could move, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't...



"Are you all right?" the voice asked. I turned to look. It was a warrior in a familiar helmet. He raised it.



"I told you to leave the fighting to me," Malcolm said with a worried look.



"What are you doing here?" I exclaimed.



"I could ask you the same thing!" the Chasind Warden replied. "But no time for that! We have to get out!"



"How'd you even get to me?" I asked. There was a whinny nearby. I turned. A massive chestnut horse stood snorting nearby, stamping and kicking at the undead trying to crawl out of the lake. A few managed to get upright, and came at us brandishing weapons. Malcolm produced a paired axe and mace, and dispatched them quickly.



"Quick, up on the horse!" Malcolm ordered. I took one look at the massive animal.



"I think my arm's broken!"



Malcolm raced over to me. He climbed onto the horse with surprising agility and offered his hand. I took it, and he hauled me up onto the animal. It was hard work getting upright, but I managed it in the end. Malcolm handed me my sword, which I took gratefully.



"Now what?"



"We get out the same way I got in," Malcolm replied, eyeing the inferno.



"Oh crap."



Malcolm spurred the horse on. It galloped toward the fire unflinchingly, fearless. Malcolm adjusted the animal's course with the faintest pressure on the reins.



"Ya! Ya, Epona!" Malcolm yelled.



Epona.



You have got to be effing kidding me.



The horse jumped. There was a brief moment of weightlessness, the searing heat of the fire, then a bone-jangling collision with the ground. Epona seemed none the worse for wear, cantering off unscathed.



"You all right?" Malcolm called back.



"Medium-rare, but all right!" I replied. I looked up, and realized my mistake. Very big fire + very strong wind + lots of wooden buildings around = bad.



Redcliffe village was ablaze.



The houses burned with an intensity usually associated with volcanoes. The heat was like a physical force, roasting me alive in my armour. The light was so strong it was like daylight, and burning zombies flailed around dying in droves. We reached the square again, where we saw the defenders fending off the last desperate assault.



"FOR REDCLIFFE!" Elisa roared.



"FOR THE GREY WARDENS!" Malcolm answered, galloping his horse into the fray. Epona collided with the zombies with bone-shattering force. What corpses that weren't flung aside were crushed under her iron-shod hooves, or kicked or bitten. I hacked down with my sword, easily dispatching the zombies from my higher position.



Elisa's warcry was taken up by the militia. They surged out of the barricade, taking the fight to the undead. Elisa led the fray, and all the men around her seemed to fight like they were possessed. It an odd moment of clarity I realized the Warden of this reality was specced as a Champion. Huh, the more things that change.



The zombies were driven off, the last falling twitching to the ground. Elisa rammed her main sword into it, stopping the twitching. She looked up at the blaze.



"Who did that?" she asked.



I sheepishly raised my good arm. The party stared at me with dumbfounded surprise.



"Interesting tactic," was all Sten said.



Elisa looked back at the raging inferno. "It's too late to fight it now. Put out any spot fires and stop it from spreading, but anything else is useless."



She turned and walked to the chantry's great doors.



"Let it burn."