I've figured out what NotOurLady was doing, so now she can get this story here with everyone else. So here you go

Walking sucks. My body is surprisingly resilient, but my mind is sick of it. Surely I can fast-forward this or something. Perhaps my mind is punishing me for some reason. I'm glad that Morrigan is here, just for the fact that she seems to know where to go. To me the trees are dark and menacing and I would probably have avoided moving through them in the dead of night, but the Witch seemed to be following a path. Behind her trudged Cousland, every so often I could see his jaw bugle as if he were reliving horrible memories, which I knew he would be. God now I feel guilty, while it wasn't and isn't real to me, to him it was. Does that make sense, shit. Part of me wanted to say sorry but how would I approach…this isn't real! I'm getting lost in this place. I must have smacked my forehead with my hand too loud because Alistair looked back at me. I waved. Plonker. He didn't smile but he slowed his pace so I caught up to him. Didn't occur to me to slow my own.

"Don't worry about him."

Insightful.

"He's been through a lot."

"The same could be said of you too you know."

He actually flinched this time I mentally face palmed.

"How did you know?"

"Know what?"

Great way to buy time huh.

"About everything. Morrigan, that Wardens can sense dark spawn, that you knew we were Wardens, about the army…"

He trailed off, breathing hard. I don't think it was just from the walking. For my next time buyer I resorted to manners,

"I'm Ana…Maharial. By the way. I know of Morrigan because… (Ha) we know of Asha'bellanar."

She shoots she scores! He blushed, blushed!

"I am Alistair, Grey Warden. That is Finn Cousland, we're the only ones who…"

"I see. I'm sorry."

"For what that's worth."

Finn snorted from in front of us. Take the high moral ground, it's understandable Ana, just breathe, the battle must have been brutal and the murder of your family. Now I am really buying into this.

"And who are you to judge whether I am or not? Just because you are a jerk doesn't mean that you deserved what happened back there. No one did."

"What happened?"

Uh oh. He stopped and turned around; arms crossed a massive barrier in front of me.

"Did you think I would miss that massive army, the dark spawn and the light from the tower?"

"And the dragon?"

"Not the first time I've seen one."

Probably not the best time for sass.

"Who are you?"

Again roaring probably not a good thing to do even if Morrigan and Flemeth have concocted something to have the dark spawn swarming elsewheres. What does he want me to say, the truth? Hmm, that's not actually a bad idea perhaps it could end this concussion dream.

"To be honest -!"

"Once the petty squabbling has finished children, dawn is coming and we near the edge of the Wilds."

As one we glared at Morrigan, she took it really well. She was right, the trees had thinned and the ground had grown harder instead of the mush that had oozed up my toes and covered most of my jeans. It ended our conversation, Morrigan smirked and continued walking, dragging Finn back into line leaving Alistair and I again at the back.

"He's got a lot on his mind."

"Again something applicable to both of you. And me. But yeah you're right."

Alistair and Finn were mirrors of each other drawing their weapons and settling shields on their arms. Morrigan was glowing. I though just settled back for the show. Cue footsteps. That hound is huge! It was covered in filth; black blood covered its jaws and smattered its short coat. It's appearance checked the Wardens movements but when the spawn appeared it was on. The game has nothing on my imagination. Those things had an air of destruction around them, of utter death. They were like zombies, decaying humanoids with split wide mouths with jagged teeth and menacing eyes. But they moved with purpose, purpose that would see now the four of us dead. Their weapons were bloodied, red with human blood. The one in shining armour, a horned helmet was the leader, miming with a serrated blade across its throat what was in store for us. I was ready for fear and to cower back, but I was angry. Like I had been at Kane. I found myself striding forward to meet them. I'm not sure what I was supposed to do but I wanted to take them all on. My wrist was grabbed by Morrigan. I thought she would have wanted to see what I was going to do, but instead she shook her head. Another interesting occurrence, did she know she was in my mind? I shuddered as my mind went to the opposite. That this was reality and she knew I was going in for a pasting. Pasting equals death. Now the anger was fighting for dominance with fright. My heart pounded and I lost my breath. Finn charged with a yell, the Cousland blade hacking through a Hurlock. Black blood arced and I watched as Morrigan dropped my hand and cast devastating spells. Alistair thundered the solid edge of his shield into the face of one, taking the time as it reeled back with a destroyed jaw to take the attack of the next on its broad face. The mabari was in the midst of the battle, going for throats, savaging arms and legs. The spells lit the battlefield with flashes of red and blue. But the dominating colour was the black of spawn blood. God it was horrible and it was beautiful. Among the splashes of blood Morrigan's spells gave flashes of colour, bright reds and flashing purple and blues. One thing they hadn't really got in the game was the noise. Not just clashes of weapons, but grunts, yells and the sound of blade cutting and bludgeoning through flesh. Shields pounding into body and armour, the crackle of electricity as it danced through the hurlocks' bodies. The mabari was a growling machine, the gurgle of a Hurlock drowning in its own blood as the hound slashed its throat. And I was entranced. My ears (mine?) pricked at the sounds; little sparks of sounds had me turning my head slightly to capture them better. I wanted a weapon; I wanted them to teach me. I wanted to bash and crush spawn into death and beyond.

Cousland had the last and battered him to the ground. I found myself walking up, dainty feet more used to walking around a mossy forest floor picking their way around the destroyed bodies of spawn. It seemed to happen from down a tunnel of vision, but I drew Finn's knife from his back and ducked under his arm as he made to arrest my movement. I slid behind the Hurlock as it struggled to rise and I gripped its head and drew it hard across its throat. Take that you piece of shit. I've felt anger before, but not to something living before, well I guess spawn are sort of alive. I let it fall to the ground fully. I would like to say for the record, that I cleaned the knife before I spun it and offered it back to him. As soon as he had a grip on it, I used the rest of the bravado I had just shown to kneel and search the bodies for anything I slash we could use.

I watched the mabari damn near knock even Cousland over. I couldn't get over how big it was. It was up to his waist but was just a mass of muscle with teeth shaped like a dog. Alistair was rattling off the animals stats like it was a baseball card but I couldn't help but notice the way Cousland rubbed the animal's ears, with sad familiarity. I moved up, slightly heavier with some coins, what I think are health poultices and a few stones that looked like amethyst that had been soaked in blood. The mabari didn't really deign to notice me, trying to get into Cousland's pants at the time, but he did look at me out the corner of his eye.

"What was his name?"

"What?"

I stroked the animal right from the top of its head to the tip of its piddly little tail. It whipped it from side to side even harder. I took a breath and looked straight into Finn's face.

"You are sad. The mabari isn't the cause of it, but an aspect of it. Hence, what was your mabari called?"

He stuttered a bit before he gave a smile. It made him more handsome than Kane had been. I let my defences lower a bit. But only a tiny bit, like three millimetres.

"His name was Bran. He died on the tower, there were too many of them."

"That does seem to the theme of the last couple of days. Again, for what it is worth, I am sorry."

He didn't say thanks but he didn't shove it back in my face. It wasn't a victory, it sure as hell didn't feel like one, but it was a step in the right direction. Our cuddly time over I stepped back, allowing Alistair to take Finn's side as we moved away from the site of carnage. My hands were sticky and blackened from rummaging through spawn corpses, no amount of wiping on their 'clothing' or after a while my jeans would clean them. I sighed and flicked them in utter distain, trying not to smell the stench, there was a river through Lothering, perhaps I would be able to wash them there. But downstream, don't want to give anyone blight sickness.

"You are stronger than I think they thought you were."

Morrigan said after one of my particularly big sighs. I didn't look at her to answer.

"They thought I was? What about you?"

"Sometimes strength is something that is only carried on the inside."

"Like magic?"

She laughed, I hadn't thought it funny, or actually to be honest particularly insightful, perhaps it had been both. She didn't carry on the conversation, so instead I thought on the fight; on how perhaps this was reality. Like real reality not a projection of broken brain cells. I had physical sensation, still evidenced by the row of nail marks down my arm, smells were a massive check, temperatures had changed in our movement from the Wilds to the road to Lothering…I guess it could be possible. But it does beg the question, if true why me? Why a girl who can play guitar and not a big guy who can fight and kill and destroy? What the hell could I possibly bring to the party? The whole kill stab dark spawn and save the land party. Could it have something to do with this 'new' body of mine, shit is it mine? What if 'my' body was now under the direction of the elf warden? Wait a second, am I a warden, do I have the blight sickness, isn't that how Duncan comes across Maharial? I rubbed under my nose in case my flood of thoughts had caused a nose bleed.

"Morrigan, why did you grab me before?"

"You mean before you strode to your death in the midst of dark spawn? Apart from the fact you have shown no predilection for battle, whether as an elf you have some sort of skill in weaponless battle that I did not know about. Though you also show no predilection to being a dalish elf."

It was all true. My 'abilities' to being an elf had been affecting an appropriate voice and innate skills that my body had. But,

"How many dalish have you met?"

Touché. Even though she was right. Of course elves have a stereotype and I was not playing to it. Not so odd if she knew that she had known me for as long as I had actually been an elf. Surely now a nose bleed...nope.

"Do they have a plan?"

I asked Morrigan. I knew the conversation would be cut off, coming to the King's Highway as we were and Lothering and of course those bandits that just serve to piss me off, whatever species I am at the time.

"It does not seem to be apparent."

I don't think I hated her as much. She had been content to walk mostly next to me, and handled my sighs and mumblings for the past what, several hours.

"Do you think I will be involved?"

"Do you think you can help?"

Oooo loaded question my witchy friend. She was rewarded with a sigh. Her attention was taken by the bandits, their mouthy leader already rousing his 'team'? Finn loomed up. Yes, loomed is appropriate. I'm not sure whether that bandit was a moron or actually had some skills. Morrigan already had her staff ready in her hand when she added her two cents worth. I said nothing, but looked at the dead Templar rolled off to the side. A Templar had been bested by this group; surely there would have been some retribution for this from the Templars at the Chantry? I ignored all of them, including Alistair who I think tried to grab me as I moved past, I knelt next to the body and pulled the helmet from him. He looked like he was asleep. A small trail of blood from his mouth the only sign of his death. I reached around his neck and drew the locket over his head. I just lifted my head and looked at the leader who didn't speak.

"Perhaps we should just tell the Templars you have killed one of their own? Do you think they will let you live."

"Who are you-!"

"Do you think that we will?"

"Bitch."

I thanked god that my elvish body was as quick as it was. The Templar's shield I grabbed and held in front of me deflected the luckily clumsy anger fuelled attack. It also blocked somewhat the ball of ice that careened from Morrigan to smash the frail human body into the broadside of the cart. Lifting my head from behind that shape of metal to see Finn's weapon rise and fall almost mechanically. Alistair had moved closer…is he protecting me? Oh my god, what would happen to the whole space time continuum thing if Alistair dies protecting me after I made the situation escalate into battle!? Jeez why can't I use my powers for good. Face it, they are the only thing I am bringing to the table. Thanking every god I could think of, from my position behind the shield, that Alistair was more than a match for these guys, especially with Finn and the dog, the mabari not Morrigan. Ha, oh. I'm glad he didn't offer his hand to help me up. I managed to do that hopefully with some modicum of elvish grace.

"Why did that happen?"

Finn said, with a notable lack of venom and roar. He did pointedly look at me, I kept his gaze but gestured to the dead Templar.

"He needed someone to fight for him."

"He was a Templar, good riddance."

Of course she would say that.

"If that is the case then why do we fight against the spawn? He's a Templar, he's a mage. What about, he's a human, he's an elf, a dwarf? Is there a line to draw? What would be the point if we won't try for someone besides ourselves? We might as well just wait for the spawn here and let them kill us or drag us to the arch demon and give up."

No answer to that bee-atch.

"It would be easier. But not necessarily better. Nothing worth fighting for is easy or simple. If it wasn't the tough decision it would just be the decision, it wouldn't be a choice, it would just be the thing that we do."

I hope that the surprise I felt at what I had said and that it was coherent wasn't showing on my face. Instead I did try to embrace the elvish mojo. Can I use that? It doesn't fit but neither does ethereal natural spirituality that seemed to drip from their pores. I'll stick with mojo.