Disclaimer: This disclaimer applies to all chapters in this story: Everything you recognize belongs to Bioware.

A/N: Hello, dear readers! I've been an avid reader on this fine website for several years now and I thought that I would finally try my hand at writing some fan fiction. This will be the first piece of creative writing I've ever really done, so constructive criticism would be most welcome. If you spot any inconsistencies with canon, do please inform me. I will be changing some things (as will be seen in this opening chapter) to make the world of Thedas fit a bit more with what one would expect from real life and what the fine people at Bioware didn't have time, or weren't able to show. Without further preamble, here it is, and I hope you enjoy my humble efforts!

Chapter 1

Unknown Time

Unknown Location

It was bright.

Brighter than it should have been.

That was the first thought that entered my sleep-befuddled mind.

The second one was that I was freezing.

Those two thoughts were enough to jolt me into wakefulness.

Why, you ask? Because last night I had drawn the curtains of the two windows in my room closed - to ensure I was not woken up too early by the sun - and then promptly fallen asleep under my thick duvet. The radiator would also have kicked in during the night. There was no reason why I should be cold or be able to sense sunlight behind my closed eyelids. I opened my eyes, expecting to maybe discover that I had got out of bed in the night, opened the curtains and opened a window. That would have distressed me a great deal less than what I saw before me. I had been fully expecting to see my small room at my boarding school in all its glory: bed, desk, wardrobe, sink, a few shelves filled with all the necessities of school life and the reassuring humming of my laptop's fans. That's not what I saw and heard.

Oh, no.

What I actually saw as I sat up in shock and panic looking around me was that I was lying in the middle of a wide stone paved road. On either side of the road were low snow-topped stone walls reminiscent of a crash-barrier.

I stood up in a daze, struggling to comprehend my new environment. In every direction, as far as the eye could see, were snow-covered fields. This made no sense in so many ways.

Why wasn't I in my bed - in my room!? Where was I!? As far as I knew, there were no old roads like this anywhere in the nearby countryside - and even if there were; why was I here!?

I scoured the surrounding countryside desperately trying to find anything that could explain this situation. Nothing. No signs, antennaes, buildings, there were no identifiable landmarks except this damn road.

Wait. I could see some smoke stretching up into the sky ahead of me, in which direction the road seemed to be heading.

It was at this point that I realised that I was standing there, gawping at everything, whilst being completely naked. Momentarily suspending my shock I crouched down to look at the only item of interest to me that I could see. Where I had been lying down was a decent sized bag that seemed to be made out of some sort of rough cloth. I hadn't noticed it before. I picked it up and was about to up end it on the ground when a noise broke my concentration. I stopped and listened. There. I could hear it again. If I wasn't mistaken it sounded like a man laughing. It was coming from the bend in the road behind me.

Not wanting to confront the approaching man in my current state, I grabbed the bag, ran the short distance to the right side wall of the road and leapt over it before sitting down behind it.

Waiting. Listening. Shivering.

A few anxious minutes later I heard two men talking to each other and the sound of metal on stone and creaking wood.

"Are you sure we'll get more silver for the apples in Lothering, Pa?" said a man's voice. Behind the wall, I froze, scarcely believing what I had just heard, barely registering a man with a deeper voice's reply.

"Aye, Tam's been taken ill these past few weeks and hasn't collected as many as last season, they'll be short."

I missed the rest of the conversation as the sounds of the people talking gradually got farther and farther away until I risked peering over the wall. Two men sitting on the top of a small horse drawn cart filled with crates. I dimly remembered hearing the words 'Denerim' and 'King' while I was trying to think through what had happened to me. I brushed that to the back of my mind - very much in denial - and emptied out the bag that I had rescued from the road. A pile of clothes, a piece of parchment, a small leather bag that jingled, boots, and… a dagger fell out. I rifled through the clothes hurriedly, looking to see what there was. My feet were already numb from the snow. I pulled on some soft garment that I could only describe as reminding me of boxers… braies, that was the name. Over that went a tan coloured hose, a billowy white tunic and what looked like a light brown gambeson. I rubbed some warmth back into my arms. I wasn't about to freeze to death any time soon but I wouldn't last long wandering about here... wherever the hell this was. I pulled on the conveniently provided socks and old-fashioned leather boots which came up to about halfway up my calves. Having staved off hypothermia for the moment I unfolded the parchment - parchment of all things! - and started reading it, hoping for answers.

You have been chosen to become a part of this world, two years before the defeat at Ostagar. Help The Warden through the Blight and ensure that the archdemon is defeated. Do this and you may be returned to your previous world.

My mind screamed.

How was this possible? This was a game. People didn't just wake up in games.

And yet, here I was. I had no doubts that this was real. There was no way this was a dream. A dream would never have been this lucid. You couldn't feel the wind in your hair in a dream, hear the birds chirping in the trees and feel the soft muddy ground beneath your feet in a dream. This was no dream.

Anguish and self-pity welled up inside me. How could this happen to me? What did I do to deserve ending up in a game - world - that would soon be overrun by a rampaging horde of monsters whose very blood was fatal and threatened every sentient being with extinction?

I put my hand in my mouth and bit as hard as I could. I thought it would help me focus my mind on the task at hand. It didn't. It just hurt and left me with a small bleeding puncture wound. After about ten minutes I managed to pull my roiling emotions and thoughts into some semblance of order and I started to focus on what I was going to do now. I picked the purse up and emptied it out on the top of the wall beside the road. Coins spilled out. After picking up a few which had fallen off the wall, I looked at what I had: thirty gold and ten silver coins were lined up on the wall. Considering how much weapons and armour cost whilst playing the game on my computer I thought that at least I shouldn't starve to death in the immediate future. I put the coins back in the purse and then thought about how I was going to carry it; the hose had no pockets and neither did the gambeson or the shirt.

My eyes fell upon the dagger in the leather sheath. Wrapped around the sheath was a black belt with a metal buckle and clips on both sides of it to fix weapons to. I put the belt around my waist, attached the sheath to it and adjusted it until it didn't impede my movement and swung from my left hip. Finally, I pulled the dagger out and inspected it. It looked to be about a foot long. The blade was tapered and seemed to be made of fine steel; it was razor sharp. The hilt of the dagger was leather wrapped, with a small cross-guard and the pommel was slightly pointed toward the end, all the better to hit people with, I thought. All in all it seemed like a fine weapon and I was satisfied that I wouldn't be completely defenceless.

After having firmly secured the purse to my belt using the string on it, I moved back onto the road and followed it towards the smoke rising up in the distance, towards Lothering if what the men on the cart had said was correct.

I walked for an hour, following the highway as it ran parallel to a river, barges laden with cargo were being boated up its length by men with long wooden poles. I reached a crossroads and left the highway to take a dirt road which led towards Lothering.

Lothering looked to be a well-established town with a population of perhaps a thousand. It's most prominent feature was the Chantry's stone spire which rose high above the other buildings surrounding it. A three metre tall palisade ringed the town, although this seemed to be a relic of a bygone era: there were numerous gaps in the wall and where it was intact the wood looked rotten. It made sense that Lothering would be more significant in reality than it was made out to be in the games. With the nearby imperial highway and the river the town must see a fair amount of traffic.

I had made my way to the Dane's Refuge and was now sat at a table getting desperately drunk. Everywhere I glanced seemed to confirm the consensus that I'd somehow been transported into a fictional video game. On my way to Lothering I'd managed to restrain myself from hyperventilating and screaming madly and had lapsed into a sort of bemused shock. I closed my eyes and entertained the notion of going along with what that damned letter was telling me to do.

I wondered how I could be sure of meeting 'The Warden'; no matter what origin he or she came from. I decided that my best bet would be to make my way to Denerim and somehow join the Grey Wardens. If I managed to do that - considering their low numbers - I would be guaranteed to meet Duncan, Alistair and eventually find myself at Ostagar with all the other Wardens. The hard part would be getting accepted into the Wardens. Grey Wardens were the best of the best and my swordsmanship skills were limited. I had been fencing for the past five years and considered myself quite a good fencer, but I wasn't sure how well those skills would translate to the swords used in this time. The long, thin épée I'd used was a thrusting weapon, with the rapid back-and-forth exchange required more reminiscent of a gentlemanly duel than the brawling I could imagine on a chaotic battlefield.

Although, maybe it wasn't completely a lost cause. After all, Daveth was supposedly Conscripted by Duncan because Daveth had managed to steal Duncan's money purse. In the game it was said that the army at Ostagar had already won several victories against the darkspawn, one could assume that that would mean that the army had been at Ostagar for a few months. So, depending on when the darkspawn emerged from the Deep Roads I should have at least a year to train and become skilled enough to impress Duncan into recruiting me. Assuming the Wardens also knew about the Blight some time before it emerged above ground could also cause Duncan to want as many recruits as possible, thus increasing my chances.

And if I get that far? What about the Joining? I could die. No. I would die. It was only a matter of time even if I survived the Joining. How could I possibly go back with darkspawn blood coursing through my veins!?

I flinched as the food I'd ordered appeared before, startling me out of my macabre thoughts.

"Thank you." I said, surreptitiously examining everything about the women as she walked away. It was fascinating. The clothes. The building. The town. The moment passed quickly as I bitterly cursed whatever power had brought me here. I scowled down at the roughly shaped wooden bowl before me and picked up the unwieldy what-passed-for-a-spoon.

I spent the rest of the evening at the inn drowning my self-pity, wishing this twisted fantasy hadn't happened. Other patrons avoided my table, perhaps sensing what unwholesome company I would be. I eventually payed for a room and staggered my way up the stairs, leaning against one of the walls. I stripped to my braies and collapsed on the bed, thoroughly drained.

I awoke to a splitting headache, the sun streaming through the window having no regard for me. I unhurriedly got dressed, belted the dagger to my waist and walked down to the inn's common room.

Breakfast (which went with the use of the room for a night) consisted of porridge, which I hungrily wolfed down. After thanking the innkeeper I left the inn and looked around, wondering where the market was, Lothering being quite different to how it was in the game. A boy was watching me curiously and I beckoned him over with a hand gesture.

"Hello, could you tell me where the market is, please?"

"You have to go down that street, past Ned the baker and turn left when you get to Krevek, he's the blacksmith, he lets me watch him work sometimes, and you'll be at the market."

I thanked him and gave him a silver for his troubles. Eyes widening, he flashed me a grin and scampered off to his mates, showing off his prize triumphantly.

I made my way to the market following the boy's directions. Since I didn't know the way to Denerim I thought that the best thing to do would be to find other travellers going there or a merchant caravan and to ask to join their party. It would also provide safety in numbers; I had no idea whether or not bandits and outlaws were common before the chaos of the Blight.

That said, though, I would need a few supplies and some other equipment. The market was a moderate size, with a couple dozen stalls and shops, and soon I had acquired a sturdy pack which I filled with a flint and tinder, a thicker tunic, bed roll, blanket, cloak, wooden bowl and spoon, a couple waterskins and enough food for a few days.

On my way back to the town square, which was where the inn was, I stopped at the blacksmiths and considered what I would buy. Looking at the wares that the smith had on display, I wasn't entirely satisfied.

I couldn't remember what the boy had said the smith's name was. I'd been careful to make my way of speaking a bit more 'old fashioned'; I didn't exactly want to draw attention to myself.

"Good day, Blacksmith. I wish to buy arms and armour. Would you have any for sale?" I enquired. Inwardly I cringed. What did I sound like to him? Like another peasant? Like a rich lordling? Did I sound like I was from Amaranthine or Gwaren? How did I even understand him? How did people here understand me? I hadn't seen any writing since arriving here except the message that was left for me. That message was in English. Was English the same as Fereldan? Or maybe the message was in Fereldan. How would I know? I could think about this all day and still have no answers.

The blacksmith, a tall burly man with howitzers for arms and a cheerful attitude looked up from his work and replied: "Aye, lad. What were yer lookin' for?"

"A mail hauberk, if you have one, and a sword."

The smith nodded and gestured for me to follow him, whilst asking over his shoulder "And what would a young lad like you be wantin' those for?"

"Protection, I'd rather have them and not need them than not have them and need them."

He grunted noncommittally and I followed him into a back-room of his smithy. A single wooden stand displayed an eclectic mix of armour and weapons. There were a few daggers, a mace, a falchion amidst others swords, a kettle helm, a breastplate, and several mail hauberks. I picked up one of the hauberks and held it against my chest. It had full sleeves and ended halfway down my knees. It was heavy, but it felt manageable.

"I'm no lord's fancy armoursmith or swordsmith, but I've got a few things for you to look at..." he muttered to me.

"What's this? Steel?" I asked.

"No, iron."

I nodded to the other mail armour "Of these hauberks, which would fit me best?"

The smith cast a critical eye at my frame. He circled me and then took the hauberk from my hands. He compared it to the others silently and then handed me back the one I'd picked up.

That'll do. I may draw attention wearing armour, but I'd rather have some measure of protection.

"I'll take it."

I looked at the swords. They didn't look like they were in great condition if the scabbards and hilts were anything to go by.

"May I?" I asked. I didn't want to unsheathe a weapon without tacit approval - I had no idea as to the social norms or rules here. You'd certainly be frowned upon for waving a gun around in the modern day.

He nodded.

I picked out two 'arming' type swords to examine. These were straight bladed, one-handed swords ideal as a back-up weapon and to be used in conjunction with a shield. The first sword I unsheathed didn't pass my impromptu inspection. There were a couple chips in the blade where it had some heavy blows, and the point seemed too rounded to my eye for an effective thrust. I replaced the sword on the stand and inspected the other I'd picked out. In contrast to the first sword, this one lacked a fuller, with the blade having a diamond shaped cross section. The two and a half foot blade narrowed to an acute point. I gave it a few experimental swings and thrusts. It was certainly heavier than anything I'd fenced with, but still remarkably agile. I switched the sword to my other hand and balanced it on one finger until it reached equilibrium. The point of balance was about two inches from the hilt.

We shook hands and parted ways after I received some maintenance and care instructions from one of the smith's apprentices.

Along with my new armour and sword I purchased a whetstone, and an oiled leather sack to store the mail when not in use.

Walking out of the smithy wearing the mail over my gambeson and the sword belted over it suffused me with new confidence in my planned jaunt to Denerim. The hauberk had weighed quite heavily on my shoulders to start off with but when I had put my belt on over it some of the weight was redistributed to my hips, and it became much more comfortable. My purchases from the market and the blacksmith's had cost me a total of ten sovereigns and a few silvers. The vast majority of that from the hauberk. My purse was noticeably lighter.

This stuff was damn expensive. Dismaying but then hardly surprising. After all; there are tens of thousands of rings in a mail hauberk and each one has to be forged from a metal bar into a ring. Each ring has four other rings joined to it. Thus making a four-in-one pattern. Each ring then has to be riveted shut. I can't really begrudge the smith's hard-earned fee. Although, I'm still peeved that it's a bit tight across the shoulders. The sword's balance is also off. So maybe the smith got a good deal out of me. Damn. Well, it's hardly like I know the going price of swords off the top of my head.

I strolled around the town for some time, visiting the Chantry and enjoying the novelty of being in Ferelden whilst it lasted. I'd looked about the Chantry furtively trying to spot any red-headed sisters. I hadn't spotted Leliana; but then again she might not even have become a lay sister yet. After donating some silvers to the shrine of Andraste whilst under the critical eye of a sister I left the Chantry. I saw nine large wagons drawing into Lothering. Each wagon was pulled by a team of two horses and had a teamster sitting atop it, with a few lance-wielding mounted guards riding alongside.

This looks like my chance to get out of here, I thought to myself, watching the wagons come to a halt inside the town and the men watering the horses.

"Who is in charge of this convoy?" I asked one of the guards who was carrying a shield with the arms of Redcliffe emblazoned upon it.

He pointed to a fat man wearing a colourful blue and green tunic being helped down from a wagon. I made my way towards the man and called out to him.

"Morning, I was told you lead this caravan."

He looked at me with interest, his eyes drifting to the sword buckled to my left hip and taking in my fine clothes (I had deduced they were good quality from the fact that many people I had seen in Lothering wore worn clothes that seemed well worn-in with frequent patches). He would have seen a six foot tall eighteen year old with broad shoulders, short brown hair, grey-brown eyes and a body fit from athletics and fencing.

"I do, I'm Jarva, a merchant in the service of the Arl of Redcliffe. We are bound for Denerim with goods to sell, and how can I help you, my boy?"

"I'm…"damn, I'm half French so I can't give him my real name, which would sound 'Orlesian', it hasn't been that long since the Orlesian occupation and I don't want people being suspicious of me, hmm… better think of one, history lessons don't fail me now! "Morcar. " There, that has a nice ring to it, and it was the name of a noble during the Norman occupation.

"I wanted to join your caravan; I have business in Denerim but am loath to travel alone, being unfamiliar with the way and looking for safety in numbers. I thought I might make myself useful as an additional escort. It would benefit us both. You acquire an extra sword free of charge and I reach my intended destination."

Jarva looked at me thoughtfully for a few moments before nodding at my sword. "You make a sound argument. You know how to use that, Morcar?"

I hesitated. Should I lie to him? No. He could call my bluff and have any of the guards test my skills. Best to be honest; he seems like a nice enough man.

"I admit that I have only taken up the sword recently and that my skills are rudimentary, but I learn quickly and I'm sure that the fine men of Redcliffe would be willing to further instruct me."

"Wait here a moment, I will consult with my associate."

He walked off to go talk with a tall man who looked like he was in his forties bedecked in hauberk, mail chausses and a helm tucked into the crook of his arm. They spoke for a few moments before Jarva went off to speak to one of the teamsters and the soldier he had been speaking to beckoned me over.

Up close he seemed like a no-nonsense, hard-bitten veteran with a scar under his eyes and greying black hair. He scrutinised me even more than Jarva had before nodding, seeming satisfied.

"You'll do." He grunted. "I lost two men to a bandit attack three days past, so we're a bit short. It'll be two weeks before we reach the capital. Jarva has been generous and said your to be fed from our supplies, as I said, we have more than we need now. You'll work guard duty with us and if you pull your weight and things go well we'll work you into the night watch roster. You can use Gorm's old horse, the black gelding." He paused, looking at me doubtfully. "You do know how to ride, don't you?"

"Well enough." I replied. I had done horse-riding for a few years when I was younger, so I thought it would come back to me easily enough.

"Name's Marn, by the way, we'll get on our way again in an hour. Be here then."

One hour later I found myself riding out of Lothering on a dead man's horse in a universe that twenty-four hours earlier I had thought wasn't real.

A/N: And there you have it. If you have any questions, feel free to leave a comment and I'll get back to you in the next chapters A/N. Do please review and I'll get the next chapter uploaded asap.