Hello Ferelden! My name is Rowan Cousland and this is my story.

PART I: THE NOBLE

Journal Entry #1

My story is not a particularly happy one. In fact, it downright sucks darkspawn balls. I used to live a relatively happy life at Cousland Castle (alright, it's really Cousland Estate, but considering its massive walls and towering gates, I assume it should be rightfully called the Castle), poking guards, bribing our elven servants to do stupid things like dropping a boar down the chimney, and wrecking havoc in the soup kitchen with my dog Wonderwall.

It all came crashing down with my introduction to Duncan, the Grey Warden. I didn't think he was a particularly imposing man – I daresay his fancy boots and thick black mustache have nothing in comparison to my epic brown sideburns and studded heels. Duncan, the man who dragged me away from everything I once knew during the battle between my family and Howe's men, became the gateway source that would transpose me from one misery to the next.

Along came the siege at Ostagar. From what I recall, the fort had always held its ground in the past (excluding the sacking by the Chasind) and never given sway to invaders – but not during this Blight. For the first time in my entire existence, I witnessed the awful destructive power of the darkspawn horde and watched as many of my comrades fell to their blades (and teeth). I recall crossing the massive bridge amidst the chaos of battle as men readied their ballistae and fired them below where battalions of darkspawn catapulted flamed boulders at us. Like a true Grey Warden, Alistair whinnied out of the way when one such rock struck the floor behind me as we were crossing, throwing me hard against the ground. He proceeded to dash to the other end while I hastily made my way back up to my feet.

What was left of the aftermath was not forthcoming – Morrigan's mother made clear to us that if Ferelden were to survive the Blight, the Grey Wardens had to be reunited to their former glory. To make things worse, the cheese prince Alistair suggested that we use the treaties to collect the forces that were once lost to us to stand against the Archdemon. Ha! I've never heard a more perverse proposal in my life (my realization of Morrigan's existence officially ranks second in my book).

Fast forward a couple of weeks and here we are at Redcliffe, post – creepy walking corpse's battle at the hills. Ah, Redcliffe…after a long, grueling trek across thief – infested highways, who possibly wouldn't wish for her welcoming smell of tuna and shrimp. The last time I stood up close to a fisherman, my nose instinctively escaped into a bucket of refreshing cold water and did not resurface for an hour. Oh look, Alistair wants to talk to me…

"Sir Rowan," Alistair said (I had commanded the cheese prince to address me as such). "Bann Teagan summons you from the windmill."

"What a surprise," I replied nonchalantly. "When has anyone ever forgone an opportunity to speak to a Cousland?"

Wonderwall barked and wagged his tail happily. No doubt he wants to crawl under some fences and dig turnips.

"Get lost, you," I told him as he scuffled away to the fishing village. "Alright my prince; lead on."

We walked up several flights of stairs up the hill to the windmill. By the second set of stairs I found myself breathing rather heavily…

Must be the equipment we're carrying. No! I'm wearing my splintmail armor, and Alistair is wearing a heavier set of chainmail. This can't be, have I gotten flimsier? Must be, considering what he is capable of turning people into with his brainless jokes. Damn the bastard!

"There you are," Teagan called from his post as we approached him. "Given the opportunity, I would not be averse to celebrating our victory from last night. But I'm afraid we're losing time and the castle remains as closed as before."

"What's the plan?" Alistair asked.

"I believe this problem may be more ominous than we think," said Teagan. "I…Maker's breath!"

He pointed behind us. Turning around, we saw a woman and a soldier running frantically in our direction.

"Teagan! Oh, Teagan, thank the Maker you yet live - !" the woman gasped.

"This is unexpected! What's happened, Isolde?" Teagan pleaded.

"Something…terrible…" Isolde whispered. "Connor…he's in trouble."

"Now now, let's not talk about this as if we're not present," I interrupted. "Sir Rowan Cousland and Prince Alistair at your service."

"Alistair…you're alive…"

"Yes. Although I won't be for long if Loghain keeps his tab on us. Not that it's important right now," said Alistair.

"Please, Teagan. I need your help. I need you to enter the castle with me, alone," Isolde went up to him and clasped her hands together. "I beg you."

"Is this necessary, my lady?" I asked.

She shot me a scornful, un-nobly glance.

"This is a very personal situation. Hero or not, I for one do not find your impetuous demeanor very welcoming."

"Well that's mighty pithy of you. Is your entire family like this, Alistair?"

"For Connor's sake…Teagan must go. Alone," Isolde reiterated.

"In case you haven't noticed, we were the ones responsible for driving out the foul creatures of the night," I replied curtly. "I think that's deserving of an invitation into the king's court, yes?"

"Of course she hasn't noticed! She's been trapped in the castle the whole time!" Alistair explained.

Ah, yes…that's…true…

"Very well. I shall go for Connor's sake. Can we have a word first?" Teagan beckoned us closer while Isolde stepped away.

"Brilliant plan, jumping into the lion's den," I scoffed.

"If this is what I must do, I will ensure that it be done. In the meantime there's a secret passageway just underneath the windmill – use it to enter the castle carefully. Perhaps I will distract whatever is inside that castle."

"No! We can't let you do this!" Alistair retaliated.

"For Connor's sake, and for Isolde and Arl Eamon's, I'm counting on you both. You have proven yourselves worthy warriors of Redcliffe, and so I trust you. Whatever happens, remember that Isolde, the others and I are expendable. Arl Eamon and Connor must be saved."

Teagan, expendable? Why am I not surprised? Although it does make our task much easier…

With that he proceeded to follow Isolde to the castle, leaving Alistair and I at the front of the windmill.

"You don't think there's blood magic at work?" he asked me quietly.

Ptsh! Blood magic?!

"From what I recall, blood magic involves manipulation of blood," I answered dully.

"AND blood – induced death from within the body!"

"The corpses had no blood."

Alistair paused, no doubt confounded by his own stupidity.

"Oh, right. But don't you think we should get Morrigan to come along? You know, have a mage just in case."

"You're actually suggesting Morrigan's company! I am impressed. Don't worry, Alistair, I'm sure your templar skills will prove a match to whatever demonic forces are inside…"

Suffice to say, Alistair, Wonderwall, and I were eventually beaten to a pulp. To add to the embarrassment, Morrigan emerged from the entire mess unscathed and had to drag our wearied bodies into the room where Connor, Isolde, and a dancing, entranced Teagan were waiting. The knights, at least, did their jobs cleaning out the possessed guards in the room. Morrigan's blatant refusal to engage in the scuffle, combined with the Bann's obvious failure at being useful after all our efforts to infiltrate the castle, rattled my nerves enough to serve as motivation for bludgeoning the dancing idiot into the floor with my shield. Typically of him, Alistair remained unconscious when Teagan was back to his senses and we realized that Connor was the source of our troubles. Misery ensued when Isolde called forth the blood mage and suggested that she sacrifice her life to save Connor. Such is Alistair's family.