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[TEWR]

This will be a series of letters between various people in *my* Dragon Age world. I'll talk about decisions made over the course of the two games, future ideas, and whatnot. To start off, here's something from my Dwarf Noble Xanthos Aeducan.

Bear in mind that these will be in no particular order, so the timestamps will vary. I may make a note from 9:48 Dragon, I may make one from 9:30 Dragon after that. It depends. But I'll throw in a timeline of events in this post at the bottom. So, here ya go:

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I am Xanthos Aeducan, Son of Endrin Aeducan, Scion of the House of Aeducan, and King of Orzammar. My story is mired in deception and intrigue, backstabbing and scheming, love and loss, failure and success. These are the things that have defined me from a very young age.

My younger brother Bhelen conspired against the throne to elevate his position in the laws of inheritance. He hoped that I would kill my elder brother Trian and thus incriminate myself. Though I had caught on to his plans long before he broached the idea with me, I was too late. For all my foresight and knowledge of Bhelen, Trian, and Orzammar I failed to protect my family. My brother was dead and my father wracked with grief.

But the Ancestors did not give up on me.

They showed me the way. Cast out as an exile, Orzammar thought me dead. But the Ancestors guided me to the Wardens, from whom I owe my life. I joined their Order and knew that this would be how I would exact my retribution on Bhelen, the man who destroyed our entire family. 

Upon returning, I discovered my father had returned to the Ancestors. That I could not be with him in his final moments pained me so. But my desire for vengeance was amplified by that fact. I entered the Glory Provings held in my father's honor independently and won, proclaiming myself Orzammar's true heir to the throne. Ripples of doubt poured through the city, and I knew I would win.

I met with Lord Pyral Harrowmont and we discussed an allegiance. He would still publicly stay in the race and his supporters would continue to vote for him, but secretly they all were supporting me. When the time was right, they would come to my side. 

And so it was that I ventured down into the Carta's lair, of my own volition and thinking, to find evidence of Bhelen's hand in Trian's death. I destroyed the Carta, uprooting them like the weeds they were upon our society, and took the evidence in hand. I proclaimed loudly that I, the exile, had destroyed the Carta! I heard my cries echo throughout those halls, and many Dwarves cheered my name! 

The evidence was then delivered to Shaper Czibor by way of a Harrowmont man. Were I to deliver it, the evidence would be looked at with suspicion. Were someone else to deliver it, then the Shaperate would take it seriously -- more so when it comes from a kinsman.

I ventured into the Deep Roads to find Branka, Paragon of her House, who had gone out in search of the Anvil of the Void. Two years had she been missing, with nary a trace. I took alongside Oghren of House Kondrat, the husband of Branka, in this mad search. Together, we carved our way through Darkspawn and found her. We found the Anvil. 

And we found Caridin.

Knowing the burden of our people, Branka had my support. The Anvil was necessary, and so I fought against a fellow Dwarf, bound body and soul into the steel frame of a Golem. But I survived. The Ancestors guided my hand. In return, Branka forged a crown for me to deliver to the Assembly, and when I asked her if she would support me she agreed.

And so I came back to Orzammar, delivered the news of the living Paragons, and told them that I was Branka's choice for the one to sit upon the throne. Many nobles under Bhelen's care were irate, citing how this was a breach of tradition for an exile to take his place upon the throne. But I was no longer an exile. Bhelen's own trickery had been his undoing.

When Lord Harrowmont, his supporters, and Assembly Steward Bandelor all said that a Paragon's word cannot be questioned, I knew I had won. The crown rested upon my head now, but Bhelen in all of his foolish ambition would not let that go. He attacked my friends and I and so I was forced to kill him.

It was a long time coming.

Now I sit upon the throne of Orzammar, and I will lead my people to a new age of prosperity and we shall retake what was once ours. Or we shall die trying, such that the bards will sing of us for centuries to come. And perhaps we can inspire people to take up our mantle.

From an interview with Xanthos Aeducan in The Annals of Kings and Queens of Orzammar, by Scholar Gertek

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Serah Tethras,

Your comments and notes on the nature of this "Primeval Thaig" astound me. Truly, such a discovery is a find unparalleled. I have searched through the Royal Archives and combed through the Shaperate and found bits and pieces talking about similar things. Temples that could only have been made through magic, idols and statues not resembling anything we've ever seen before, and many more things. 

The notes seem to suggest that Orzammar rests near one of these "Primeval Thaigs". If so, I will have to begin organizing a careful expedition to research this.

Sadly, the sodding fool nobles at the time thought concealing the truth would be better then researching it. If we are truly so ancient as to predate the Darkspawn as we believe, this could lead to more information on our lost society, couldn't it? It's the duty of the Shapers to discover the lost history of the Dwarves. To attempt to wash it away like the dirt on our smallclothes does us all a disservice. At the same time, however, I must admit that it is troubling how this place is untouched by Darkspawn.

And the Rock Wraiths? I had seen one once before, but it was more peaceful then those you encountered. And it was certainly not possessed by any Demon. The words it said struck me as strange at the time, though I soon discovered their meaning -- or at least what I believe to be their meaning.

At any rate, Rock Wraiths, Demons, Golems, but.... not a Darkspawn to be seen in the Primeval Thaig? Troubling, most troubling, especially since the Memories' knowledge of Demons and other arcane matters is minimal currently -- something I'm attempting to rectify.

And your comments on this "lyrium idol" do not help those fears. I implore you, as not just a King of Orzammar but as a fellow Dwarf, to tell me all that you can about your trek down there. In return, House Aeducan shall be in the debt of House Tethras. 

Aside from all that, I am most grateful for your efforts at increasing the trade going on between Kirkwall, Ferelden, and Orzammar. Thank you for listening to my proposals when last we met and talking on the subject with me at length. I will be one of the few down in these black depths to admit that, as we are no longer the Empire we once were, we depend more and more upon the surface to survive. That so many nobles deign to say we don't rely on the surface to survive is just.... maddening. I grow tired of the hypocrisy, the denial, the honeyed words concealing poison. Orzammar must change. Perhaps in time, we can become as self-reliant as we once were. 

Perhaps.

With fond regards,

Xanthos Aeducan, King of Orzammar, 9:37 Dragon.

=============================================================================

TIMELINE OF EVENTS

9:31 Dragon -- Xanthos sends a letter to the King of Kal-Sharok, attempting to mend the rift between the two city-states, by way of Amaranthine's Arling.

9:31 Dragon -- Xanthos sends word to Lady Helmi of House Helmi, telling her of Kal'Hirol and appointing her as the person to lead an expedition to reclaim the path from Orzammar to Kal'Hirol.

9:37 Dragon -- Upon receiving a missive from Varric Tethras with a few scant details about the Primeval Thaig, Xanthos sends a letter to Varric asking for more details, while also thanking him for the talks and deals and everything else concerning increased trade for Orzammar and Ferelden that has happened over the past few years.

9:37 Dragon -- Varric Tethras sends a letter with more information on the Primeval thaig.

9:37 Dragon -- Xanthos Aeducan informs King Alistair of a lead on King Maric.

 

Modifié par The Ethereal Writer Redux, 19 mars 2013 - 09:56 .

[TEWR]

To His Majesty King Vorlan Garun of Kal-Sharok,

I fully understand your feelings. It was truly a horrible thing for Orzammar to abandon Kal-Sharok simply for having received no word. It was never our intent to abandon our brothers while they still lived. I will not try and make any excuses or justifications for what High King Threestone did. Perhaps it was the right call, perhaps not. Either way, it doesn't matter. What matters now is that the Ancestors helped you in your time of need. You have survived.

And for that, we can work together. 

Know now that Orzammar is sending you aid, first in the form of a representative. Expect Lord Renvil Harrowmont within the half-year's turn, at most. He shall be bringing with him a personal retinue of Dwarven soldiers, but they are only a token force. And I have told him of some of the things that I would say were I there. Consider his words my own.

I understand the caste restrictions have been lessened in Kal-Sharok. This is good. What does it matter if a few Dwarves see what we do as honorless by allowing the Casteless into the army? They are short-sighted fools. They should stand amongst the corpses of millions of slain men, women, and children and ask their spirits if honor matters when enemies are upon your very doorstep. We are in an eternal war. We must use everything at our disposal.

The next matter of business is unity. You must be unified if we are to have any hope of joining forces. The Assembly is outdated, a hindrance to our goals. 

Remove it.

You must be the one with grips on the army. How much dissent have the nobles caused you? How much have your efforts been hampered by their fighting with one another? I understand your ascent to the throne was mired in intrigue, deception, intimidation, and assassinations. Funny, that's remarkably similar to my own ascent. Perhaps the Ancestors smile on us.

Finally, you must establish a trade route to the surface. I understand how far beneath the mountains you rest. It will be a tough process to carve out such a path, but it will help you survive.  

However, the decision rests upon you. I will not tell you what you should and should not do, as you are King of Kal-Sharok. But these are things I feel you must do. 

I await your reply.

Sincerely,

King Xanthos Aeducan of Orzammar, 9:31 Dragon

Modifié par The Ethereal Writer Redux, 26 février 2013 - 04:37 .

[TEWR]

Your Majesty,

Please, don't stand on ceremony with me. You can call me Varric. I'm far more suited to being called that then "Serah Tethras".

But to address your query, the Primeval Thaig was odd indeed. Lyrium of a crimson coloration broke through the walls and threw itself high into the air like the roots of trees, growing and growing. The air was foul, filled with an aura of desperation and death. We walked through the first room and discovered a temple, with curious statues on all sides. The clothing they were wearing seemed to be robes, but not like anything you'd see in the Circles. On their heads were helmets, fashioned into shapes almost... animalistic. Perhaps even draconian.

We wound our way through and past stairs leading to a raised platform. As I looked around, I saw that there were places designated for Dwarves to stay and rest. To worship. The lyrium gave it a malicious glow, blue on red, contrasting violently. On the raised platform lay an idol, made of lyrium. The images were disturbing. Withered bodies crying out, with one wrapped around the other, as if to shield themselves from some grievous assault.

As Hawke and I inspected it, our mutual friend Anders described it as having bad magic contained within. You can imagine how much I relished the thought of dealing with anything described as "bad" when I was exploring a place that sent shivers down my spine.

After tossing the sodding relic to my brother, he betrayed us for the idol and for his own greed. Given what I experienced years later, I'm led to believe this idol exacerbated his desire for enough money to be free of the Merchant's Guild. Then when his mind faltered, it destroyed it.

But alas, we Dwarves don't know **** about magic. 

After he betrayed us, we worked our way through and through. No matter how far we went, Demons plagued us relentlessly. Shades driven to assault us, using magic to take down all of us. Thankfully, Hawke's magic and Anders' magic proved to be great at dealing with them. Carver's blade swept through the remaining Demons with fury, causing black ichor to spill forth from their "wounds". Bianca launched volley after volley of bolts into the air to fall on top.

Golems, however, were our more fearsome foe. Their stone bodies couldn't be damaged by conventional weaponry, so once again we relied on our two Mages. Nothing special, though I daresay I still have bruises on top of bruises from when that Golem hit me in the stomach. That my innards didn't rupture was most fortunate.

I never want to fight another Golem again.

The Thaig became even more sinister as we passed onwards, looting what treasures we could. Old Dwarven clan pins or relics, or statues, or weaponry, or whatever lay around us. Valuable, to be certain, but at the time we were just content with moving our asses topside. Then we saw the Profane.

Now, these were indeed Profane wildly different from the one you saw. Not in appearance, but mentality. They just attacked us mindlessly, swinging their gargantuan stone arms at us like flails. Lightning crackled between what was left of their skeletons, rendering them luminescent in the shine of the two types of lyrium built into the thaig's walls. Worse still, they fired bolts of lightning at us, which points to them knowing a degree of magic.

When the last of them died, we were granted a moment's reprieve. One of the Rock Wraiths assembled its body together, speaking to us. It was not, however, like yours. It was a Hunger Demon, apparently drawn to the Thaig by way of the hunger of the Profane. The Profane feasted upon the lyrium for Maker knows how many centuries, until the hunger was all that defined them. When it offered us help to escape the Thaig, we asked it how it could help, where it told of a foe awaiting deep in the caverns. In the end we refused its offer, forced to fight more of the creatures, with earth and lightning clawing its way towards us. I can only venture a guess that the reason for their magical capabilities is due to them being Mages in life.

Hawke agreed with me on the matter when I broached it with him after the battle, for the Hunger Rock Wraith had turned into an Abomination to meet us at its full power. The skin was twisted over itself, grotesque and twitching at times. It was a mockery of a Dwarf more then any Rock Wraith could ever be, the real person behind it lost to the years that have since gone by, his mind twisted by madness and lost to the grip of the Demon. 

And wouldn't that be something? That we Dwarves were once Mages? Certainly, it'd be a curious phenomenon.

Anyway, the passages twisted and turned, having been carved with intricate designs of statues adorning all the walls in various shapes. Some were holding their hands high, others were offering tribute. None were wearing weapons, though.

Runic marks met our eyes, but in a language not Dwarven, Tevinter, or any other notable language spoken today. At least, not from what I could tell. Perhaps they were telling a story of the fall of the thaig. Perhaps it was a story about its glory days. Perhaps it was about cheese and all the wonders cheese holds.

I can't say. But onward, we marched.

Finally, we found the vault. The red lyrium was at its thickest there, winding around stone pillars and even causing a massive cave-in for one passage leading deeper in. Boulders were strewn about haphazardly, as if a giant baby had thrown a tantrum. But when we thought things were looking up, we saw the boulders come together. Before our eyes was a gargantuan rock wraith, as old as time itself.

Its eyes were like fire, blazing with rage for our trespass of its domain. The vault was under its care, its protection. It must have been as sacred as the temples. As we ran towards it to weaken what it would call its legs, it passed through the earth and reformed behind us. A swing of its mighty "arm" shook the ground with ferocity unmatched, such that I'm sure Kirkwall itself felt the tremor. 

We turned, with Hawke launching fireball after fireball at it, to no avail. The stone armor it was made of took the fire as easily as a breeze would take a feather. So he switched to ice, freezing its arms and legs. By luck, the creature could not move and I managed to fire an explosive at it, destroying part of it. Carver slid underneath it, and upon standing up behind it he climbed up its backside, pressing his mighty steel blade into its almost ethereal body. 

Writhing in pain, the beast flung him to the far side of the cavern, causing a few loose rocks to fall around him. Hawke took the opportunity to gather them up using his mastery over gravity and sent them flying towards the beast, wherein it stumbled. 

But it moved through the earth again, towards the center. I saw it gather energy from the lyrium. The electricity sizzled, striking the air and stones and pillars. It was all we could do to evade their might and hide behind safety. When it had gathered its energy, it launched its own projectiles at rapid pace into the air accompanied by a crimson whirlwind in all directions. Thankfully, this seemed to drain it of its own life force, to the point that it became easy prey for our strikes once we dispatched its minions guarding it.

In the end, I can say that the Primeval Thaig had more mysteries then answers. The statues, the temples, the lyrium idol, the Profane, the Golems, the Demons. None of it makes sense, but I hope this will at least provide you with something to work off of. And maybe.... something that could help Bartrand, bastard that he is. The sanitarium's doing what it can to help him, but nothing seems to be working.

Just be careful if you do find a Primeval Thaig near Orzammar. Do not believe anything there is what it seems, or that it is safe.

You were fortunate enough to lead your bunch of misfit Wardens and friends to victory in the Fifth Blight and live. Orzammar would weep if you were to perish from curiosity. I know I'd be saddened, because then I'd lose another person I enjoy drinking a mug of ale with. 

Alas, I will have to entertain your question on the lyrium idol in a separate letter in full detail once I get a free moment. At your request, I'm to help our mutual friend King Alistair find his father Maric in the coming days once the new year dawns upon us, while Queen Anora and Damaeus, Fergus, and Amalia Cousland will see to it that Ferelden is stable. Perhaps I'll visit Orzammar someday afterwards.

I can't say I particularly relish the idea of being underground anymore, but I suppose the least I could do is look around and describe it to Bartrand when next I see him. He'd like that, I think. These days, whatever the idol did to him has truly destroyed his mind. At times, he may get a clear moment or two, but more often then not I see that my brother is gone.

As a token of our friendship, I've enclosed a few bottles of Tevinter wine that my friend the broody elf stashed away in the cellars of his mansion from some of his mercenary jobs. I'm sure he won't mind.... much.

Your friend, 

Varric Tethras, 9:37 Dragon

P.S.: I enjoyed reading Scholar Gertek's Of Gods and Men series. Could've been better in some areas, but at least it tells a full story of what you did during the Blight. 

Modifié par The Ethereal Writer Redux, 19 mars 2013 - 09:53 .

[TEWR]

Lady Helmi,

My Wardens and I in Amaranthine have cleared out Kal-Hirol, of all things, for the time being. It was fortunate that we discovered it. A group of Legion of the Dead were intent on clearing it out, but the Darkspawn proved to be both too numerous and too intelligent. There was only one survivor, whom I have inducted into the Wardens. Her information proved to help us greatly, allowing us to use a side passage to launch a surprise attack.

I send you this missive with as much information as I can detail. During this time, a Darkspawn Civil War is occurring. And it's not like the times when two rival bands of Darkspawn would fight for dominance in the Deep Roads like some scouts reported. They are intelligent, capable of organized attacks, despite the Archdemon's death.

However, things appear to be going well. Their infighting has allowed me to strike multiple blows against them while working to unravel what's going on. Many of their Broodmothers now lie dead, though we'll need to devise a way to deal with the putrescence, the bodies, and just.... everything. Perhaps magical fire would be best...

I predict in a few months' time we shall see Amaranthine at peace and I can return to Orzammar as King. In the meantime, you should begin marshalling men to lead an expedition to carve a path from Orzammar to Kal'Hirol in my name. For the time being, they shall answer to you on this expedition. My own men will carve a path from Kal'Hirol to Orzammar to meet up with you.

But afterwards, as Eithnar Bemot decreed, they shall return to my authority. We are, after all, in an Eternal War against the Darkspawn.

Kal'Hirol is bound to have notes on Golems that the Paragon Hirol wrote down that I want the Shaper of Golems to apply towards the Golems we have received recently. I even fought an Inferno Golem, a construct of blazing metal and more then four times the size of a regular Golem of steel. But more then anything, be sure to bring a Shaper. The Memories of the Stone are alive here.

Sincerely,

Xanthos Aeducan, King of Orzammar, 9:31 Dragon

Modifié par The Ethereal Writer Redux, 28 février 2013 - 06:22 .

[TEWR]

To His Majesty, King Alistair of Ferelden,

My friend, I hope you are doing well. I remember how the last time we met the topic of the Blight came up by some of our friends, colleagues, and sycophantic nobles, which turned towards Loghain eventually. I know you are still unhappy about how I allowed Loghain into the Order, even if you have forgiven me, but even so you must know that it was necessary. We needed as many Wardens as we could get, and the Wardens would often do "whatever it takes" to defeat the Blight. You told me that yourself. I have tried explaining Ostagar to you a million times, but I know you would not hear of it.

But alas, I did not write this letter with the intent to open up old wounds. My agents in the surface nations have reported curious things. Mostly from Antiva. They say that they have heard of a Fereldan King being held prisoner somewhere. I recall the stories of King Maric having disappeared at sea as he was attempting to unify the Free Marches and forge an alliance with them.

I surmise that this king they're holding captive is your father. I urge you to go and search for him, but delicately so. This is a matter of utmost importance for your nation. Aside from the morale bonus to your troops in light of an imminent Orlesian invasion that will no doubt come, if you let whoever this is keep him then it becomes a pawn in whatever plans they have in store for Ferelden. They would use him against you.

Anora, your lovely wife, and the Cousland siblings can handle Ferelden's internal affairs. This is something you must take care of. Remember Isabela? Well, she will be accompanying an ally of mine from the city-state of Kirkwall, one Varric Tethras. She'll deliver this letter to you and you should receive some information from Zevran's contact sometime soon. I've talked to him on the matter a few times and he said he'd help you in regards to some information. I've asked the two of them to help you on this journey. Isabela knows Antiva and Varric has known connections throughout half of Thedas. 

Known being the key word. I can't fathom how many unknown contacts he is.

Go to the Antivan Crow archive. They have all manner of written information on contracts, blackmail, secret histories, and recipes. Search for some of their more fiery dishes, if you get the chance. They're really good. 

I'd help you myself, for old time's sake, but unfortunately if I leave Orzammar for too long the nobles will try and destroy what I'm working to do. Can barely trust anyone in the worlds of the deep.

Sincerely,

Your friend Xanthos Aeducan, King of Orzammar, 9:37 Dragon.

Modifié par The Ethereal Writer Redux, 19 mars 2013 - 10:00 .