I have never heard of the word avowal in my life. But if it's used in same sentence with Uldred, I can only interpret as opening your loud mouth and announcing other people's businesses. So rude, screw him and the demon he rode in on.

"I rather we forget what Uldred said, honestly." I try to shake off Barkspawn. He refuses to give up; in fact he lets out a low warning growl. A switch is flipped, as if speaking to my own dogs, "Don't think I can't drag you, because I will."

His grip doesn't loosen, but the crinkles on his forehead do. Barkspawn is taken back, or so it's expressed that way. He whips his head back in posing to say: what?

Then he growls again, challengingly: I'd like to see you try.

Damn, bluff called. Which… I should have expected that. The war hound has brains and brawn; Barkspawn reaches to my sternum on all fours.

"I am afraid… that is not an option. We must. Though, I wish I had brought the matter up sooner," The guilt in Daylen's voice makes my heart sink. "I wanted to give you time to adjust, and the space. I thought that is what everyone needed; after all we have been through so far. Though, I was hopeful as the days went by the tension would… smooth itself out. I was foolishly mistaken, perhaps made things worse by putting this matter off for so long."

"You did." Sten interprets. The large man crosses his arms. "I have wondered. Why do you command… this to follow? It's a distraction."

"Excuse me?" I ask, sharply. "Did you refer to me as "this" as in a thing. I'm a person!"

"Umm… that's questionable," Alistair drags his hum. "It's why we're here after all."

Oh this team bonding meet up is off to a great start.

"You… you're shitting me right?" Though I mean to keep that to myself, but it rolls off the tongue. My anger has a mind of its own, and I rant, "Ya'll see I have no tail, no deforming and decaying skin, and ugly growth on my shoulders. Also I'm not gushing out lava! What more proof do you need that I'm not a demon?!"

Daylen intervenes, "Ellen, you have right to be frustrated, but please let us not raise our voices."

The circle lingers in silence, but everyone exchanges glances. Expect for Sten, his glare is dead set on me. Any sudden movement I make, he'd probably reach for the weapon settled on his back and slice me with it.

"Perhaps… a demonstration? Like you had at Ostagar?" Wynne suggest. "When we first met, I performed a cleansing in front of the Templars that were stationed with us. To convince them she was not a resident of the Fade, and i also prove that Ellen didn't possess any magic."

"Let us see this proving." Morrigan rests hand on her hip. The fire reflecting in her irises makes it out to be a mischievous glint twinkles in her eyes. By the nodding heads, all seem in agreement, and all eyes are set on me.

"If… if everyone is in favor." Daylen frowns. He seems to the only one to show any regards to my thoughts on the matter.

My anger lingers like a storm cloud. "If that's what it fucking takes…"

I convince Barkspawn to let me go and I wander a short distance. I let out an exasperated sign and fling my arms wide. "Ready to get zapped or whatever!"

Wynne blocks my view of the campfire. The elder mage summons a familiar ball of light in her hands. And like before, small sparks of electricity rotating around the rims. I embrace for the impact of magic that hurtles at me. The spell hits my chest, and a tingling sensation is spread throughout my body. Goosebumps perk to the surface of my skin, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand out like icicles.

I groan, painfully. "Damn it, doesn't feel any less weird the second time around."

Another flash of light launches in my direction, and I'm not fast enough to dodge. I scream when it contacts with me. It doesn't hurt, but it catches me off guard.

I experience a different sensation, one that's hard distinguishing if it's magic or my anxiety spiking. An invisible force contracts my muscles, mainly in the chest area. My respiratory system stops functioning, and I find myself suffocating. I fall to my knees while desperately gasping for air.

A body rushes to my aid and that somebody nuzzles their snout in my hair. Barkspawn whines. My hand finds his fur and I pet him. It calms me enough to focus on taking deep and soothing breaths. When I look up, my attention is drawn to Morrigan's fat smirk.

I scream at the wicked woman, "What the fuck?!"

Wynne scolds, "Unnecessary, Morrigan."

"Perhaps in your eyes, old woman, which is to say you have no sight left." She snips back. "I needed confirmation of my own."

My knees still quake after standing, difficult to say if it's from the trauma or rage. There is only so much anger this petite little body can bottle up, and the words go flying. "Go fucking fuck yourself! We're fucking done here."

I stomp away to the tents, and ignoring my name being called. Crawling under the thick bedroll cover once I enter the tent. I flip to my side to have my back facing at the entryway. Hot tears strolling down the moment my head hits my backpack pillow. I wipe the wetness away with the back of my hand, constantly.

Time passes, and exhaustion weighs heavily on my eyelids. Slumber over takes my consciousness.

At this point, I've come to expect the headaches. New nightmares haunt my sleep, this time of the bandits I've killed.

I remember in my dream looking down and see the bandit, the one I shot in the neck, mumbling one word over and over again: justified. The blood pours out of his neck, like a fountain, and it doesn't stop. The bandit goes under, and the blood rises to my knees, to my thighs, higher and higher it goes… and I wake up.

"Is there a way for me to never sleep again?" I mumble, while sitting up.

No reply, not that I was expecting one. I realize I'm alone. Wynne's bedroll is packed and ready to go. I do the same, but wonder if she came to tent last night? I woke up at one point to take off my breastplate and leg plates as they were uncomfortable to sleep in, and my vambraces were half way off before I drafted back to sleep. I don't remember ever seeing her.

I gather my armor and make myself presentable for the day. Leaving to fix my hair last, I place it into a high bun while exiting the tent.

Wynne is right outside, as if she was about enter the tent. "Ah. You are alive."

"Doesn't feel like it, not how I've been sleeping."

"Let me take a look at you." She says, softly.

We plot ourselves right outside our tent. Her hands reach to my cheeks and warmth resonates off her fingers. My sight becomes a little clearer, and the pounding in my head disappears. "About last night," Wynne's hands drop to her lap. She studies me under her gaze. "How are you feeling?"

"Who wouldn't be fine after being exposed of their situation?"

"Ellen…"

"No, it's fine. I mean, obviously you guys care. Throwing intervention like a surprise party, I'm touched."

She finds no amusement; her scolding expression makes me shift uncomfortably on grass. "I'm… just tired of being rejected, treated like I'm not human." I add under my breath, "Had enough of that growing up."

"It… will take time for everyone to acknowledge this revelation, and even longer to accept it." She explains. "If they accept it. There's a possibility they might never."

That doesn't make me feel better in the slightest.

It wouldn't be so bad if I had people to fall back on, some friends, but I'm alone here.

"Am I not a friend?" Wynne ask, shortly realizing that I said this all out loud.

I don't answer, not right away. "Do you think me as one?"

"You're one of my charges and because of that we've gain such closeness in a short time—"

"But… that's all I am?"

"That shouldn't discourage you to come to me if anything is bothering you. We've come this far together…" Wynne trails off and suddenly her hands grasp mine. Her thumbs rub against my skin, comfortingly. We stay still for another moment before she pulls away and stands up.

"Help me take down this tent, would you?"

A smile, a small one, creeps on my face, and I stand up to assist her in folding the tent. Wynne invites me to join walking alongside her in today. I decline her offer as of right now I prefer Bodahn and Sandal's company. After the events of last night, I'm not ready to face anyone, let alone have any interactions with them.

"The offer still stands, for anytime." Wynne pats me on the shoulder before we go our separate ways. I take the tent with me. I place my things on the ground as I notice Bodahn rearranging the back of his wagon.

"Oh just in time," says the stocky merchant. "Could I trouble you in placing the remaining crates in the caravan? I need to attend to the oxen."

"Sure not the problem," I wave as I see him in a rush towards his hauling bulls. It's not much to put away. In the middle of loading the last crate, I hear someone trying to call out to me.

"Voyager."

Slowly, I turn and see the swamp witch herself approaching me. She strives with her shoulders back and her chin elevating upward. Her bag and staff attach to her back.

Many questions float in my mind, the first I ask is, "What'd you call me?"

"A name mother would call a traveler such as you." Morrigan rests a hand on her hip.

I roll my eyes, and turn my back to her. "A traveler of the Fade?"

"A traveler of worlds."

Her words have me stop at a halt, I drop the crate in the process of setting it down, and the whole wagon shakes.

"Mother had told me stories, short ones on how your kind would stumble upon the unknown, and then spend your life time on a voyage trying to get back home. She has only met a few."

Hearing this, I can't help but prey on this information. "What? Backup. She's met people like me."

Before Morrigan can answers, I place my hands over my ears and shake my head as I come back to my sense. When I say sense, I mean the harboring anger of last night's performance.

"Wait, no. I'm not talking to you. I'm still pissed at your little fucking stunt."

"I had to be certain you are who I thought you were."

I dust the dirt and strands of grass off my hands. I don't bother replying, in fact, I ignore her presence all together. I focus on putting the tent and my bag in the back of the caravan. Being a swamp witch with sharp wits, Morrigan retreats to the traveling party. She doesn't even glance back.

Not long ago was I confessing to Wynne I wanted friends, but I'm not that desperate for company.

In the short time of traveling all together, she has been nothing but rude and nasty to anyone she engages with. For once, I'll be keeping Wynne's advice and staying the hell away from Morrigan. Because honestly, I might punch her the next time she approaches me, for vengeance.

Bodahn, Sandal, and I set out before the sun reaches the top of the high trees, with Daylen leading the charge as he has the map. With each town we visit that has a port, all say the same. There is no boat available to take us there. At this point, we should just continue traveling on the highway. I voice this to Daylen when I catch him alone during our break for lunch. He says it's too soon to give up; we're only four days into our journey (though it feels like a month, the way time seems to be dragging on.)

In the distance a voice is shouting, "Kendoy! Kendoy!"

A boy, can't be older than sixteen, is searching in all directions for whoever he's looking for. With haste, the teen approaches the both of us. "Have you seen a mule around?"

I shake my head as Daylen answers, "Afraid not, but we'll be happy to help you look for lost mule?"

"That… that would be great," He says, breathlessly. "My father I'm sure would reward you, he's a merchant."

"A reward isn't necessary, but a trade might. Bodahn did mention wanting new wares." Daylen says to me, and I nod. He returns his gaze back to the boy. "Where is your father?"

The young lad points in the direction of his father.

"Ellen, why don't you and Bodahn get acquainted with… um… I'm sorry your name?"

"Nythil," The teen says. "Nythil de Grosbois."

"A pleasure to meet you," the mage smiles widely.

After a set of introductions, we split. I inform of the merchant nearby. Never seen Bodahn so pleased, we take the caravan and we pay the merchant a visit.

We manage to find him, he's fidgeting with his inventory he has on his wagon.

"Hello, sir?" I greet, cautiously.

The merchant freezes and turn. "Yes? Er… can I help you?" He's nervous as he sounds.

"Your son, Nythil, sent us your way. Said you were a merchant and thought we could trade?"

"My boy?" The father sighs, "He should be looking for Kendoy, not customers."

"He is, so is my friend. He's helping in finding your mule. We thought it might be best to do some trading while they're out searching."

"They'll be back before you know it. But, trading will help pass the time. What do you say?" Bodahn says it in a chipper tone, and that's all it takes to convince the human merchant.

"Well… you came all this way, I suppose so."

Bodahn seems eager to browse his wares. As the two men talk shop, the merchant introduces himself as Felix de Grosbois. Just another poor soul trying to run from the Blight, but his escape is at a halt due to his mule running off into the woods. Felix tells us his mule got spooked by a wisp while fidgeting with his belongs in the back of his wagon. He continues to rabbles, and I only catch of half the things he's saying. Bodahn, on the other hand, nods appropriately throughout the conversation.

"Er… you'll have to forgive me if I seem a bit nervous." Felix confesses. "I'm worried about Nythil and my mule. Not many people travel in this part of Ferelden. Not that I would know… I don't normally take this route, but you're the first friendly faces I've seen since I've left my last town. I don't want to get stranded."

"You have every right to be, but all will be figured out even if your mule doesn't turn up in the end. We won't leave you and your boy."

"If you're heading towards the mountain… er, perhaps we can travel together." Felix points to the white tip mountains in the far off distance. "Hoping for some good weather along the way, and maybe a bit of luck."

"We could all use a bit of luck in these trying times," the dwarf chuckles.

Felix sighs. "This trip has been one miserable disaster after another." He pours his concerns out to the dwarf merchant, like a patient in a therapy session.

I search among Felix's wares, and something shiny catches my eyes, a wooden polished pole. I extend my hand to grab it and pull out a rod. Though, it looks more like a wand. It's made out of a refined crystal and bent oddly, as if belong to a branch of a crystalize tree.

Honestly, something like this belongs in wizarding world of Harry Potter. What? Did the Fade rip open a portal and take shit from there too?

I shouldn't even joke like that.

I can barely handle the thought that the Fade is somehow connected to my world, let alone the Fade connecting to other fictional worlds…

My brain hurts thinking about it.

"And there's the source of my problems." Felix points at the rod in my hand. "Since I bought that artifact, things have gone wrong."

I ask, "What is it anyways?"

Bodahn examine the item with a critical eye, and gasps. "I never thought I see one on the surface. Ellen, May I?"

I hand the rod and watch Bodahn analyzing with bewilderment. "It really is. It's a control rod."

"For a golem, so I'm told. Cursed is what that thing is."

Hearing the word golem, my thoughts immediate go to Shale. There are questions I wanted to ask, but Bodahn beats me right to it.

He turns to face Felix. "Where did you get this, exactly?"

"In Jader." The merchant answers. "I was actually on my way there. The Blight hasn't touch there yet, and I thought I'd return it while I was at it. I see no point in me keeping something that's damned, not unless… you'd consider helping a fellow out?"

The dwarf ponders for a moment. "Well… I don't mind taking it off your hands for you, sure."

When that moment is said, Daylen and Nythil return with the mule, unharmed. Felix's worry crinkles disappear behind his widen smile. For the first time, he laughs and says to Bodahn. "Then it's yours, friend. I want nothing to do with it."

Felix pushes us aside and shuts the gate to back of his wagon in a hurry, as if Bodahn would change his mind at any second. "Come boy, come! We shouldn't waste any time." The man meets his son half way and guides the mule to the front of the wagon. Bodahn follows him, and I do the same.

"Felix," I call out. "The golem you mentioned? It wouldn't happen to be the golem in Honnleath would it?"

"The very same one," He says with much enthusiasm. "So I'm told by the dwarf who sold it to me in the first place. Say the word "dulef gar" while holding it and the golem is at your command. Or should, that's what the mage who owned the golem told him, then told me."

Once the mule is strapped up, Felix hops into the driver's seat. The teen is quick to do the same. He thanks Daylen for his good deed.

"Best of luck to you on the roads!" And with that, they ride away. At his fast speed, the wagon rattles violently from the uneven dirt road.

"I didn't get a chance to introduce myself, but he seemed nice, if perhaps a bit… hasty?" Daylen comments when he appears by my side. "You asked about a golem, did you find something belongs to it?"

"Yeah… we have its control rod."

Daylen eyes widen. "That's… quite a find."

"It is!" Bodahn is giddy for joy. "Warden, I would not ask to go out your way for us to go to Honnleath – is that what you asked Ellen?" –I nod— "Should you even go, I would be very much indebted to you, more than I am now I suppose."

The merchant recites old stories from his childhood about golems. They creatures are usually of hewn with stone and brought to life with lyrium, and led to incredible victories against the darkspawn. The golems were protectors of the dwarven civilization. It's very similar to how golems are portrayed in the Jewish culture. I smile.

And it only gets better, as what Bodahn has in his hand is the key to gaining a new ally.

Ten days, ten days of strenuous traveling, we have reached the outskirts of Redcliffe.

Who knew an extra day of camping would make a difference in my tolerance for being outdoors. I've been daydreaming of sleeping in a bed (a modern bed) and magically all the knots trapped in my muscles would disappear.

Honestly, I'm desperate for comfort, I'm willing to steal every pillow in town and sleep on them. I'd also use the pillows to make a fort and hide from my traveling companions. After the trial by… magic, it's been uncomfortable being around anyone, and thus me avoiding everybody. Sten gives me the evil eye, my interactions with Alistair and Leliana are long tense silences, and Morrigan. That blasted woman keeps approaching me every night, when I least expect it, with a random, and personal, question of my other-worldly life.

She gets the same answer every time: nothing. I walk away.

Wynne has notice the swamp witch's obsessive behavior, and I've been reassigned to her company the rest of the way. That seems to keep Morrigan at bay. She's been sticking to Sten's side.

It appears everyone is paired up today. Leliana and Barkspawn are walking side by side, and then Alistair and Daylen leading the group ahead. They are out of hearing range, but Alistair appears to be uneasy. One hand is rubbing against the back of his neck and his isn't making eye contact with Daylen. His mouth is moving rapidly, as if babbling.

I'm not the only one who notices his uncomfortable behavior.

"With how nervous Alistair looks, one would think he's confessing his love." Wynne chuckles quietly beside me. It gets me to smile, but honestly, I wonder what got Alistair so wound up. Did Daylen tell him what awaits them at Redcliffe?

"Maker's breathe, I hope not!"

Alistair's yelp startles me. Redness consumes his faces and ears after his outburst. Daylen pulls his attention back to their discussion. Alistair often shakes his head at whatever they're talking about.

"You're rather worried." Wynne comments, "You wouldn't happen to know what they're talking about?"

I frown. "Maybe?"

It's not like I told Daylen to keep the insightful warnings to himself. But Alistair is acting this way at the mention of zombies plaguing Redcliffe… maybe perhaps Daylen should?

I come to a halt as the Grey Warden retreat back to the group, and Alistair looking pretty grim as if someone ran over his favorite cheese wheel.

"Why have we stopped?" Leliana asks. It's been a while since I heard her speak. I almost forgot how sweet sounding her voice is.

"There's something I need to say." Alistair glances over at Daylen, and he gives him an encouraging nod. The tall Grey Warden sighs. "Alright, this might shock you all, so brace yourself."

So stressed out, Alistair collects his nerves again with another deep breath. "I'm… a bastard."

"That's hardly new." Morrigan snips.

He glares at her. "The kind that didn't know his father."

"And suddenly, I find myself no longer caring about this conversation."

Morrigan brush by the Wardens and continues on ahead, she doesn't get far, not with Daylen blocking her path.

Alistair rolls his eyes before he continues. "My father was King Maric, which made Cailan my… half-brother." He looks over his shoulder and spat. "Interesting enough for you, Morrigan?"

The news does set off some soft gasps from Leliana and Wynne, even Morrigan's eyebrows sky rockets to her hair line, but only for a second. And Sten, he has no reaction. I'm sure royalty doesn't matter to a Qunari solider like him.

Of course, Alistair's birthright! I nearly forgot. This is around the time he relieved to the Warden about his heritage. So, he wasn't told about the zombies plaguing Redcliffe, after all.

I can't help but let out sigh of relief. However, that earns me suspicious eye squinting from Alistair.

"What?" I question.

"Did you know?"

Shit.

The combination of Alistair's tone and all eyes slowly turning in my direction makes me nervous. I'm sweating profusely. "No, I'm… just as shocked as everyone else. Totally, speechlessly shocked. Everyone handles shock in their own way and…" Slowly, I step behind Wynne to shield me.

"And you're a very, very, bad liar," Alistair says, accusingly. "Nobody should know about me because a possible threat to Cailan's rule. Eamon, Teagen, everyone kept me secret, made sure that I was." I pick up a hint of sadden as his voices trails off. "And I've never talked about with anyone. So, how it is you know?"

Leliana comes to my defense. "Perhaps the same way she knew of demon we would come across at the tower. Déjà vu."

"Day what now?" Alistair asks, even Sten raise an eyebrow.

"Often used when someone speaks of the future. They have seen it as a vision." Leliana clarifies, and it's not surprising Morrigan scoffs. Sten is rubbing his temples, as if a sudden headache appears.

Leliana gives me the courage to speak up. "It happens through a feeling, a sensation rather than a vision. I only experience it through my dreams. But, I don't remember I dreamt it until the moment is happening—" I pause, suddenly, as if my brain pressed hard on a pair of car brakes. Its screeches echo in my head.

"Wow… that does sound made up saying it all out loud." I blurt out.

Wynne sighs. "And you wonder why I was having trouble believing you the first time?"

Alistair throws his hands in the air. "So that's it? You get visions, excuse me sensations, of the future, randomly, through dreams, but doesn't remember you had then until… what? The moment we're in danger?"

"What can I say, it's a turn on." Way to insert a joke inappropriately, Ellen. "Look. It's not like I have control of it, it happens at random." I explain myself, but no certainty behind it. With all the disbelieving looks I've receiving, what's the point?

"I believe her," Leliana states.

"I suppose you do," Daylen smiles. "It's similar to what happened with you Leliana, yes?"

"In a way," she says, and Morrigan rolls her eyes. The lay sister pays her no mind, not even a glance. She turns towards Wynne and I wearing a gentle smile. "It's quite a story."

The bard guides the both of us, brushing pass Alistair's state of dismay and Morrgain's glares. We lead the group as Leliana enlightens Wynne and I on she met Daylen and the others in Lothering.

She sets up the scene with describing Loghain's soldiers in a local tavern. The lay sister assisted them in their skirmish. Following the fight, she elaborates the Maker has sent her a vision. The vision she explained that she's meant to help Daylen and his quest to end the Blight.

Wynne is chuckling by the end. "A least you remember your vision, dear."

"I get the hint, Wynne, being a seer isn't the best career path for me."

The elder mage continues to laughs, and it's soothing to hear. I'm pulled back in the moments when traveling to the Circle. The day wouldn't be complete without some sort of banter.

We approach closer to a stream connected to rushing waterfall. I feel some wetness splashing on my skin while we cross over a stone bridge. A man stands on the other hand, waving his hands frantically in the air. He comes charging towards us with the shock written on his face.

"Travelers!" The man announces in our presence. "When I saw travelers coming down the road, I scarcely believed it, but… here you are." relief washes over the man.

"Yes… here we are?" Alistair repeats not sure what to say to this deranged man.

"And there are many of you. Surely, you mean come to help us."

"Yes, we heard that Arl Eamon has fallen ill and—"

"He could be dead for all we know!" The man exclaims. "Nobody's heard from the castle in days and no one had a chance to go because of the attacks."

"Hold on," Alistair steps forward. "What has been attacking you?"

The man's square jaw falls. "So you… don't know?" He scans the party for any recognition of what he's talking about. I avert my gaze towards the waterfall, and silently beg that he doesn't notice me. Same pressure as being back in school in hopes the teacher doesn't call on a student that doesn't have their hand raised.

"Monsters," The man answers. "They come out of the castle every night and attack us until dawn. Everyone's been fighting… and dying. We've no army to defend us. So many are dead, those left are terrified they're next."

Morrigan ponders loudly. "Apparently everyone seems to agree that a Blight is the perfect time to start killing each other. Marvelous, really." I can't even tell if she's being sarcastic or not.

"Can nothing pleasant come out of you?" Wynne asks.

"T-The Blight hasn't reached us…" The man grows in panic. "Are the darkspawn coming here? We can't handle anymore monsters."

"The darkspawn are not the threat, not as of this moment." Daylen says diplomatically, but his doesn't calm the man. "The monsters you spoke of… they wouldn't happen to be corpses? Would they?"

"I… I don't rightly know. I'm sorry. Nobody does. But, I should take you to Bann Teagan, he's more familiar with these attacks than I am, and he's all that's holding us together."

"Bann Teagan? He's here?" Alistair turns to Daylen. "We need to see him. He's the arl's brother. He might know something about Arl Eamon's condition."

We follow the man, who introduces himself as Tomas, down to Redcliffe Village. It's… not a pleasant sight, not how the game portrays it to be.

The streets are full of dead bodies both of the villagers and monsters Tomas has mentioned. The villagers left alive are gathering their loved ones and putting them in piles, next to mounds of… dirt? No from the smell it's manure. Fallen weapons are scattered everywhere; I almost trip over a sword or two on my way into town.

Tomas guides us to the Redcliffe's Chantry. The people here have fortified the building with wooden stakes posted in the surrounding area. Bear traps barely camouflage by the dirt; we've had to watch where we've stepped. Barkspawn leads the charge as he's able to sniff out the metal.

The man opens the heavy wooden doors. "Bann Teagan!"

A man with light brown hair stands in the middle of the Chantry, speaking to other villagers. His appearance his neater, more refined. He wears rich color clothing. However his noble outfit is becoming tattered. Still, he presents his head high and greets Tomas with a gentle smile.

"It's… Tomas, yes? And who are these people with you?" Tegan observes the weapons we carry. "You're obviously not simple travelers."

Barkspawn, who has been by my side, breaks away from the pack. "Hey, where are you going?" I whisper and watch him go to a group of children huddling along the stone walls. I follow him, afraid he might scare them. Though, it's the opposite reaction, they are happy to see the mabari.

"Can we pet him?" A scrawny boy asks. He looks like he hasn't slept at all. All the children appear this way, and my heart sinks at the thought.

"Well, he came over here for a reason. I think he wants you to." I smiles. Barkspawn licks each of their faces, and surround he's surrounded with tiny hands petting him. The large war hound rolls on his back and demands belly rubs with his tongue sticking out. What a goof.

I hear my name being called and I return to the group, next to Daylen.

"You were right," Says the Grey Warden mage, "The village is being attack by corpses."

"You're joking?" Alistair throws his hands up while he's at it. "Is there anything you don't know?!"

"Your favorite color," I say, flatly.

Daylen steps between us, so that he is the only one in view. "Enough, please, now is hardly the time. Ellen, might you have some insight on how to defeat these creatures?"

Deep in my subconscious, there is a tiny Bekah nudging at me excitably. I can't believe my sister's fascination with zombie culture is going to save our asses.

"Zombie survival one oh one: decapitation and fire. You can stab them or shoot them, but they will only slow them down because… well they're already dead. You want to get the job done, you cut their head off." I tap my finger against my temple. "The brain controls everything in the body, including nerves to make you move. No brain, no damage."

I shouldn't be surprise by this point to be getting odd looks. I focus on Daylen as he's the one I'm talking to. "And they attack in hordes, and I really hate to use this, but think the horde that attack Ostagar. I'm talking those kinds of numbers."

"They do come in great numbers, and it seems each night there are more of them." Teagan frown. "If you are comparing darkspawn to the walking dead, we might be in graver danger than I thought."

Growing in numbers?

A worry thought formulates in my head. "Maybe… it depends how you answer the next question. I have to ask, the villagers that are killed, do they become the walking dead?"

"No, thank the Maker."

"That's some good news…" I turn back to Daylen. This just means the magic isn't infectious. "Zombies… erm, the walking dead are blood lust driven and very simple minded. They see a person; they'll immediately go in for the kill. They don't care about anything else once they focus on a target. We can use their one track mind to our advantage, lure them in traps."

"You appear well informed. Do you have experience deal with such evil things?" Teagan asks.

"Ahhhhh. Kind of?" I drag out the words. Abominations and darkspawn count, right?

"I… thank you for sharing. Anything is helpful, including information." Teagan speaks up, and his brow scrunch in worry. "I have a feeling tonight's assault will be worse yet. I hate to ask but I'm desperate need of assistants. If there is way any of you can contribute?"

Sten does. "There are no darkspawn here, and nothing to gain. Helping this village is a fool's errand."

"Agreed," Morrigan crosses her arms. "It's pointless to help these villagers fight an impossible battle. One would think we had enough to contend with elsewhere."

Wynne, Leliana, and Alistair stand there disapprovingly, and I am right there with them.

"When he asked for contribution, he didn't mean opinions." The moment that is said, my form shrink under Sten and Morrigan's harsh gaze.

"Of course we are going to help." Daylen says without hesitation. "Death may be inevitable, but I am tired of seeing it executed so abruptly, everywhere I go."

"That is the life of a Grey Warden, is it not? Have the events Ostagar taught you nothing?" Ask the swamp witch.

"If Ostagar has taught me anything that every life is worth saving, especially if you have the tools and means to do so. We are a skilled group of individuals, as are these villagers. They have stood for this long against the walking dead. They are capable of withstanding the Blight, where everyone's focus should be, but they don't have a chance if these creatures keep draining their resources and will."

My hand gravitates towards his arm, patting him. He's cold to the touch, icy cold. Daylen lets out a sigh before pulling away.

"Thank you, for your kind words." Teagan breaks the tense silence. "This... means more to me than you can guess. Tomas," He turns to our guide— who I forget is here. "Please tell Murdock what transpired. Then return to your post."

"Yes, my lord." Tomas takes his leave.

Alistair asks, eagerly. "What can we do to help, Bann Teagan?"

The Bann of Rainesfere is just as eager to get things underway. He has two men in charge of Redcliffe's defenses, Murdock the village mayor and Ser Perth, one of Eamon's knights. He's stationed at the windmill just up the cliff, watching the castle.

"There is much to do before night falls. If you need me, I will be here in the Chantry. Ser Perth insists that I do, so everyone he needs to protect is in one place. Not that I mind, to be honest. My part is to console with the villagers, try to rest their worries as best I can."

Teagan looks at everyone taking shelter in the area. Many families huddling together around candles like campfires. "Hopefully we can find the source and stop it before it causes any more damage."

I want to smooth the sadness I feeling off him. "We will." The words get him to smile, slightly.

Daylen confirms. "We'll go and meet the men you mention, and discuss with them the preparations."

It's seen in Bann Teagan's eyes, a spark of optimism. "Very well. Luck be with you my friend."

As we are leaving, I call out to mabari. "Barkspawn! We're heading out, you coming?"

The war hound sits up, and from this distance I can heard a sharp whine, a protest to not leave. He's muzzle dopes as if frowning. I bring this to Daylen attention and he shrug.

"I see no harm for him to stay here."

Barkspawn's hearing is as sharp as his whining. He barks resumes his position on his back, and the children fawn over him. Spoiled rotten is what he is, but the kids need the distraction. We make out way towards the doors.

"Ahh, fresh air," Morrigan takes a deep breath as we step outside. "'Twas difficult to breathe, with all that self-righteousness crowding the air."

"Is what that was?" Alistair says, emphatically. "I could have sworn it was your pretentious attitude suffocating us."

"I'm very impressed. I did not think you were capable of pronouncing such plausible language."

"And you." Alistair points his finger at me. His scowl is more of pout. "Since you seem to know so much, you… sneaky sneak know-it-all, what else is there? Like how many corpses we'll be facing? Maybe their shoe size, so we can know how fast they run."

"Alistair…" Daylen scolds.

"Imaginably, his idiotic thinking is on to something." Morrigan stand in front of me, so that I may only focus on her. "As you said it yourself, Warden, we must use what's at our disposal. How long have you known this village was tormented?"

"Days." I answer.

She raises an eyebrow. If she knows I'm lying, she keeps it to herself. "And the source of the chaos, you are aware of what it is?"

Double shit.

I might as well have said out loud, because instinctively my lips tuck into my mouth. My reaction makes her smirks, smugly. "Indeed you are."

"You know what's making the dead walk?" The tone behind Daylen's question sound hurt. When I was explain to him of Redcliffe's condition, not once did I revealed what (or who) the source was, and I never planned to. Maybe…. Daylen was already unsettled when I first mention zombies. I didn't want to overload Daylen with too much information and decision making.

"Yes, I do. I would have told you… maybe." I begin to wipe the sweat that forming on the back of my neck. "I don't exactly know how comfortable you are telling everything, everything. You freaking out about half the things I was telling you."

"Ellen, forgive me, but anyone in their right mind would be "freaking out" if they were told they would have to be facing undead creatures."

Point taken.

"I'm also talking about from before. What if I told you that you were going to die tonight?"

I can see everyone becoming tense, especially Daylen.

"Am I?" He asks.

"No," Dear fuck, I hope not. "But those are the kind of reactions I'm getting then I tell you things."

"That… may not have been the best example."

We are approached by a man with scruffy beard and a long bushy mustache. His caterpillar brows knit together and his pale skin is covered in patches of dirt… or is it dry blood?

He greets us with a gargling voice, "I haven't seen your faces before."

"We're travelers passing through." Daylen answers.

The bearded man scoffs. "Funny timing you people have passing through. The name is Murdock, the mayor of this village, or what's left of it anyhow."

"My name is Daylen, and these are my companions. Bann Tegan suggests we speak to you, we wish to lead our aid for this cause."

"You want to help? Can't say no."

There is much to prep for before tonight, according Murdock. To ready his men, he needs moral and armor more than anything, both beyond his reach. The only black smith in Redcliffe has locked himself in his workshop, and refuses to talk to anyone. Losing people more and more each night has dampened the villagers' fighting spirits.

My eyes wander to the men standing right outside the Chantry. I see two out of the many practicing their archery. The rest are sitting around, sulking. Their shoulders hunch together, and their head lower to where they can see only the ground. The sense of hopelessness can be felt from where I'm standing, and my stomach turns.

I don't tear myself away from the dreadful sight, but overhead Murdock's idea that if the villagers see Dwyn among them, they feel they might have a fighting change.

"Oh, right, him." I say, without thinking.

"Ellen, do you know the dwarf mention?" I hear Wynne asking.

Automatically answer, "Yeah. He lives somewhere near the dock or something." And immediately it regret afterwards.

The only person relieved to hear this is Murdock. "Maybe you can get him out of his hiding hole then."

"I... ah. Maybe." Just keep yourself digging in that grave, Ellen, just keep digging.

"We will go and speak with the people you've mentioned, Murdock," says Daylen, Thank you, for your time."

"Don't know if you should be thanking me." Murdock shrugs, and departs from our group, and towards the men station outside the Chantry. Daylen, and many others, turn their heads in my direction. The look of disappoint stretches across the mage warden's face.

"A discussion we will have at another time, among many others. Timing seems to never be in our favor as of late, but as of now you are needed." Daylen addresses to the rest of the group. "It will be fast to talk to these people simultaneously, separately."

"Redcliffe has a tavern. We can group there," Alistair suggests.

Wynne and Leliana are to talk to Ser Perth, Daylen and Alistair will speak with the blacksmith, which leaves me paired with my least favorite people: Sten and Morrigan to persuade Dwyn. We separate from the group and venture towards the homes on the docks. There are many of them; some are stacked on top of each other like apartments.

"You know where you're going, yes?"

"Somewhat, I know it when I see it."

"Marvelous," Morrigan says more flatly. I can imagine her rolling her eyes.

Sten grunts. "There is a phrase in your tongue: a blind leading the blind. This is what this is."

"Doing my best here, Stenpai."

His nickname is a play on words from Senpai, (because I'm a nerd with terrible taste in jokes.) Usually I call him this out of endearment, but at this moment, its for despite.

I don't look back to see what his reaction is, hopefully annoyed because that how I'm feeling. It's better than saying: Do you know where we're going? No? Then shut up. And I get stabbed with that giant sword of his.

We come across a few buildings near the dock, the way they are position feel familiar. One door stands out, newer looking then the rest as if it was recently repaired. I knock on the door, assuming this is Dwyn's house, but no response. I try again, and I'm met with silence once more. I groan.

Morrigan inspects the building. "So the dwarf has locked himself within? The structure can barely hold itself together. If so intend in surviving I would leave, were I him."

Sten begins to retreat. "Perhaps he has. I see no reason to stay, let us move on."

"Wait! He's definitely in there."

The Qunari ignores me, and continues walking.

"You're really going to let this guy hide away when get could be out kicking ass out on the battlefield? It's a waste of talent." I question.

The clank in Sten's armor halts as he pauses mid-walk.

"She and the village are convinced he has purpose, Sten." Morrigan calls out. "Have him fulfill it."

That seems to convince him enough to make his way back towards us.

She says to me, "Perhaps he should be the one to knock."

I agree as she and I part a way for him. The giant man reaches to the door. Sten calm and collective, turn tense as he lifts his leg and kicks down the door The hinges on the wood does not stand a chance against his brute force, much like the furniture barricade back at the Circle. His strength still terrifies me.

I'm the first to enter the home, and the inside doesn't replicate what I've seen in game. It has more personality, more furnishings among just the essentials of a fireplace and cooking pots. There are colorful rugs and vases, as well a collection of weapons mounted on all the walls, and a few paintings. Two men are sitting in front of the fire place on the group playing with a deck of cards. But the one we're looking for, the dwarf, is on the left side of the room at a table with food. His hair is a darker shade than I remember and grumpier looking. (Then again, we just broke into his home.) He looks directly at us with his hand over the handle of his sword leaning against the wall.

"Wonderful, Intruders," says the dwarf, "I hope you've a good reason for breaking and entering into my home."

"We do." My voice becomes sickly sweet. "I'm sorry for intruding like this, we mean no harm, only to talk. My name is Ellen."

"Apology accepted." The dwarf says, begrudgingly. "The name's Dwyn, pleased to meet you. Now get out," His body guards stand up from the ground, their hands reaching for their weapons.

"We will soon." I promise. My heart begins to race. "You're aware of what's going on, right?"

Dwyn's braided beard moved when he let out a scoffed. "You broke down my door to tell me that?"

I can hear my heart pounding against my ears, "Well… no. No, not that. Murdock, he – he needs you for the militia."

"Stand down." Dwyn signals his bodyguards as he stands from his seat and his straps the long sword to his back. He crosses his arms and his hairy brows furrow forward. "So, what? You're recruiting for him? I'll tell you what I told Murdock. I'm not risking my neck for this town."

Sten comments, "Coward."

"Survival." Dwyn defends himself.

"I would hardly call this survival." Morrigan walks to me, while scanning the room. "Look how you and your men have hidden yourself. Might as well be waiting prey."

"Listen, sweetheart." Morrigan glares daggers at the dwarf as he says that. "My boys and I swing a weapon better than any of those fools out there, and we have supplies to last for quite some time. The way I see it I have better chances in here. Everyone else can run around in the open, waiting to die."

"Proud of yourself, are you?" She sneers.

I frown. "You're the one who's waiting to die. She's right. There is only one way in and out of this house and it's through the door we just busted down which… I don't see you get that fix before sundown. You might as will be using your amazing swords skill out there. There is strength in numbers—"

Dwyn interrupts. "Why? When did this town ever rush to my rescue?"

"How do you know they haven't? You've been hiding!" I snap.

"Lack of windows is good during an undead invasion." Wish I can say the same for his lack of empathy.

"Now, this time, get out. Boys!" Dwyn calls out.

His bodyguards approach us with weapons drawn out. Morrigan and Sten walk towards the entrance of their accord, but my stubbornness has my feet glued to the floor. Murdock and the villagers need Dwyn's help, I go as far to say they're desperate for it. The image of the men in front of the Chantry comes to mind, the hopelessness clouding over their heads.

"These villagers need a hero, and that could be you." I plead, at this point spitballing excuses to keep the conversation going. "They'll be so grateful to you, indebted to you possibly, especially Ban Teagan or the arl. They might—"

Dwyn shakes his head, not daring to look in my direction. "And what good would that do me? The arl's probably dead and I couldn't care less what Bann Teagan thinks of me. Whatever else you have say, won't change my mind."

That's not true, there is a way. Options, the options are persuasion, intimidation–

"We'll hire you!" I say before my mind can finish processing the thought.

My heart nearly turns into a sword of its own and nervously stabs against my chest the closer the body guards come. The tips of their swords within arms each and my heels begin to retract towards the opening.

"Hold it!"

And they do. The men glance towards their boss, waiting for order. The silence drags on seconds longer than it should have.

"Boss?" One of them speaks.

Dwyn slowly peers over his shoulder. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," I confirm, though in my tone it sounds questionable. "We'll hire you to fight for the village."

The dwarf turns fully, tilting his head with speculation. He strokes his beard with his gauntleted fingers, thinking. He takes his time, enough that the men beside him lower their weapons once more.

Dwyn nods as if finally came to a decision. "I won't even stick my head out my door for less than a hundred silvers."

What.

I bite the inside of my cheek. "A hundred? That's little much."

"Do I look like an elf?" He says to me in a huff. "I'm not that cheap. It's hundred silvers, or it's no deal."

I rather not pay him at all and shove him outside and tell his ass to go out fight, but it's too late to go back on my word. "Fine…"

However, I realize in that moment I don't have that amount of money on me.

Dwyn stroll between his men and extends his hand, waiting for his payment. Looking over at Morrigan and Sten, they are only watching the exchange outside the door, and have no intention of helping. I curse and take my crossbow off my back. The body men raise their weapons defensively.

Dwyn only raise a bushy brow. "This isn't worth a silver, not even close. Why are you—?"

"I don't have the money on me right now," I confess as I hand him my weapon. "It's somewhere else, and I have to go get it. I need this crossbow for the fight, so I'm let you hold on to this, until can give you your damn money."

The dwarf only stares at me, then the weapon. He grumbles. "You're getting off easy, woman."

He takes the crossbow and gives it to one of his bodyguard, a man with a shaved head and war face paint. "Get me my money, or you won't see me or your crossbow when the sun goes down, you hear me? I'm not fighting for a lost cause for nothing."

I get shoved out of the house by the other body guard. He stands in the middle of the entry way when I turn around to look back, with his arms crossed and an intense glare.

"We did what we came for. Let us take out leave." Morrigan informs.

I'm reluctant in admitting out she's right, but let her lead me away from the house back to where we came with Sten follows behind.

Far enough away, Morrigan asks mockingly. "Did your déjà vu not predict this outcome?"

My last thought is of mentally cursing at Morrigan to go shove and rotate before storming ahead.

Author Note:

Remember how I said I was waiting for this? I was referring more of the action-pack fighting scene and trying for MC be heroic and failing horribly. Now I understand why writers want to make their characters struggle and suffer. It's fun.

Sorry for the delay though, my job has me drains all of my productive. It involves my creative brain 90% of the time. That's why I love it, but can be exhausting.

This chapter wasn't my favorite to write as it wasn't moving along how I wanted it. But characters, they have thoughts of their own. But I think next chapter will be easier *knock on wood.*

Until next time ;)