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"What was it you said?"

"I know."

''A nice rest for us all?''

"Well how was I supposed to know the town was being attacked by the walking dead?"

Morrigan smirked "By now warden you should have learnt that tis not wise to tempt fate like that."

"Dually noted."

As annoying as this conversation was at least Morrigan had stopped complaining about the fact that he had decided to help the village. As well as a few tasks from some of the residents. Well it is the sensible choice; if this town gets destroyed it can't help against the Darkspawn. Odin had this rationalised to himself. Also a few had mentioned a reward; at the very least I can get free ale off that pretty barmaid Bella.

So he and his gang had been running around the village all day. He had persuaded the Blacksmith to do his job. He persuaded that overly eager child to go back to his sister and let him borrow his grandfather's sword. He had persuaded that priest to give a few worthless trinkets to those superstitious knights. He had 'persuaded' that surface trader to get out and fight like a proper Dwarf should. He had also threatened the fat innkeeper and an elf spy to join the fight. That admittedly had been pretty amusing, strangely Sten seemed to agree.

It wouldn't be long now until the sun set, a sight which never failed to fascinate Odin, and the battle would begin. As his companions were preparing the Dwarf stood in front of the Chantry watching the villagers carefully, trying to weigh their chances. He stopped as the Mayor, Murdoch approached him.

"How are the militia?"

"As good as can be expected" The Mayor gruffly responded "but the truth is our weapons and armour are not nearly as good as I'd like and there is still not enough of either."

Odin had noticed. Even with that Blacksmith's help one man could not arm and armour an entire village in a few hours. Too many had old rusty axes and daggers, while the armour was ill fitting and had clearly not been maintained properly.

Odin began "What I wouldn't give for a good…"

"Something is charging up the road!"

The shout came from a lookout awkwardly perched on the Chantry's roof.

"… Master craftsman" Finished Odin while a horrible, suspicious feeling of dread had sprung up about what that something could be. He had told that damn box why it had to stay away from the village.

Sure enough the Luggage raced down the hill to the consternation of everyone that wasn't part of the Grey Warden group.

"Calm down its friendly!" Alistair announced as he rushed on to the scene. This pronouncement was met with incredulous looks and a few mutterings of 'witchcraft' and 'blood magic'. Odin himself was just about to discover some way to throttle /dismember/immolate/ generally cause harm to this piece of glorified wood when it arrived at his feet and reveal a horde of gleaming and razor sharp equipment.

The villagers were goggle eyed. Odin's mind abruptly halted the violent revenge fantasies.

Alistair spluttered "How it did…where did it…how long has it had…"

Leliana had a slightly dreamy smile on her face "the Maker moves in mysterious ways" she piously stated.

"Your Maker has nothing to do with it" snapped Morrigan "Magic is the only rational answer."

Leliana, who had had her fair share of philosophical disagreements with the scantily clad witch over the last few days, was about answer back when a villager intervened. The gormless lad, who already had more than enough free ale (to steady his nerves you understand) yelled out 'Catfight!'

Now Odin was not entirely sure what a cat was but judging by the glares the boy was getting from both women it was not a good thing. Still few people had laughed and the tension had eased, well as much as it was going to in the circumstances. Odin used the welcome distraction to get everyone to line up and take what they needed from the Luggage's new found weapon stash. He also had to assure them that the well armed trunk which seemed to have a full set of teeth would not bit down on anyone's arms, probably.

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The sooner we get to this Circle Tower the better Odin grumblingly thought to himself. Yes had saved Redcliff and got a lot heart-felt gratitude, even a rather nice helmet, but it wasn't sorted. He had sneaked into the Castle, re-killed a horde of undead only to find that it had all been caused a naïve kid and an overprotective mother with a voice that could crack granite. How could anyone listen to her without going deaf? Humans are tougher than I thought, or at least their ear drums are. For some reason it was up to him to decide how to handle this. Killing the kid was an absolute last resort and that blood ritual, well; given his luck so far Odin didn't trust this Jowan with a pocket knife. That left the Circle Mages, so off he went like a good little errand boy. He had split the group to stop Redcliff being destroyed while he was gone. Morrigan (for magical advice/ protection), Sten (in case the kid went mad and had to be dealt with quickly) and Leliana (who smilingly accepted the thankless task of keeping the peace, poor girl) were left in the Castle. Now the two Wardens, along with the dog (whom Odin had named Poacher after catching a small army of Rabbits for their first meal) and the Luggage travelled along the road. The luggage remained a mystery to Odin that he was determined to crack while he was on this blasted trip.

"So" he said as walked alongside the Chest, trying not to feel too foolish about questioning a piece of furniture "where did you get all those shiny weapons?"

The Luggage carried on walking.

Yes or no questions Brosca Odin reminded himself "Were they loot?"

The walking chest nodded.

"Haven't see designs like that before, was it old gear?"

The chest shook itself, presumably a no.

"So recent stuff then?" another positive nod "In that case you must have come a long way."

Another yes nod came from the Luggage. Progress Odin triumphantly thought, he was just about to ask a new question when-

"Oh thank the Maker! We need help! They attacked the wagons please help us! Follow me! I'll take you to them!"

The refugee woman immediately turned round and headed back up the road. Alistair had already drawn his weapon and the group followed the woman round the corner-

Only for a tree to fall on the road and completely cut off their escape.

"The Grey Wardens die here!"

"Oh bugger."

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Bert, Tom and Bill had, until very recently, been petty criminals operating in northern Ferelden. They had mostly been attacking those fleeing the Darkspawn. It had been a steady money maker in the last couple of months. That was until they were captured by Arl Howe's men and given a choice; a slow painful death or a Job.

A fairly easy decision really.

So the three miscreants had been placed in a group led by this sleazy, foreign knife ear, who was some kind of professional assassin oddly enough, to hunt down rouge Grey Wardens. They had been hiding above the road on a small ridge for the last three days waiting for their targets. The rain had soaked them through and all they had to eat was some cold Mutton. Their talk had mostly been private grumbling and plans to run off, when they were told the Grey Wardens were approaching.

About time!

They quickly readied themselves and waited for some clear shots.

" 'ere Tom, Bill looky there."

Both men turned to Bert. The fight had just begun and they had missed their chance. Then they noticed what Bert was pointing at.

A large wooden chest… a large wooden chest absolutely stuffed with Gold.

Three men quickly lost all interest in the fight below and each made a mad dash for the treasure.

"It's mine!"

"I saw it first!"

"Piss off!"

Tom was the fastest of the three but unfortunately for him he was rather forgetful. So forgetful in fact that he forgot about the claw trap he had set only yesterday.

AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!

The gold and the chest it was in meanwhile had gone back down towards the road and was heading up to the ridge on the other side.

"Hey come back 'ere!" yelled Bert frantically following. The chest had just got over the pathway when Bert made a leap and grabbed one of the legs of his prize.

"Ha! Got you!"

Bert's success was rather short lived as he failed to notice Poacher the Mabari was racing towards him, teeth first.

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!

The Luggage, now free, made it up the other ridge and stopped. Bill, the largest of the three caught up pretty quickly.

"Not running anymore you slippery little bastard?"

Bill's AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH was noticeably more muffled than either of his two comrades. Being swallowed whole can have that effect.

As the fight ended the Luggage dutifully re-joined the rest of his adopted group. The Luggage was rather pleased; this may be a strange new world but the old tricks still worked.

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