Disclaimer: Zev, and Dragon Age, are not my property. If it was, DA 3: Inquisition would already be out and Leliana would most definitely play a major role. I do so love my bard.
Well, we finally made it to the tower, holding the famed Circle of Magi. I admit I was excited; perhaps other mages would have bosoms as magnificent as my dear Wynne's? It had taken a little while to get there, on account of bandit and Darkspawn attacks. Cousland had gotten injured during one such attack, and it took an entire day of rest for her to fully heal. Oh course, our dear bard stayed with her throughout her ordeal, and even gave the Warden a little…token of appreciation. Ah, such a lucky woman, Reyn is. Sure, her parents were killed, probably massacred horribly, and she lost everyone and everything that held meaning for her prior to this…but she ended up with a fine beauty as compensation, did she not? And what a lovely sight that was… I could see their silhouette's moving against the background of their tent, which was surprisingly see through because of the moonlight shining down. What? I was not spying; I was on watch at that moment. And I just so happened to look in that direction…watching for danger, yeah? And once I had seen them, I had to keep watching. It was all for their protection. I was doing my civic duty to my fellow comrades. I deserve a medal.
After Reyn's quick recovery in the hands of dear Leliana, we continued forward to our destination. We carved a path of destruction on the way there; the bandits were either devoid of news of our traveling group, or just very stupid. Probably the latter. We finally arrived at Lake Calenhad shortly afterwards. Ah, what a beautiful sight! The moon, she glistened off of the serene blue waters, highlighting our faces in the glowing splendor. Reyn and Leliana's beauty shown clearly in the moonlight, and Wynne's silver hair gained an attractive sheen. A cougar, if I ever saw one. Shale…. well, she just looked like a giant piece of rock that walks. And Team Zevran's favorite witch, Morrigan, just looked like she normally did: sexy and bitchy. Though the light did enhance the evil light that always radiates from her eyes. I envy the man that tames that. Or attempts to; she would probably curse him or freeze off his unmentionables.
When we arrived, we noticed a small inn off to the left. A man stood off to the side of it; he was named Kester. He told us that he used to be the one who rowed passengers off to the tower. It was the only way a person could get to the tower; leagues of achingly cold water, remember? Unfortunately, old Kester was out of a job. The knight-commander of the tower, named Greagoir, had taken the oars from him and denied passage to anybody across the lake. When questioned, Kester denied knowing the reason behind the odd request. Reyn, being shrewd, asked if something was amiss at the tower. The now unemployed man had no clue. We left when it seemed we would get no further answers of benefit. It was a mutual agreement that we would go into the little inn of to the side, the Spoiled Princess, and see if any other information could be gathered. The inn only contained a couple of patrons, all of whom scowled at us in a completely unfriendly way. Except for one of the shadier ones; he smiled quite lecherously in my direction. Normally I would be flattered, but considering the lack of teeth that showed when he smiled and the unkempt look about him, I hurriedly averted my eyes. Can't waist precious time with a dalliance that would probably scar me for life…and potentially make me contract some disease. Then again, I could always ask Morrigan to-the Darkspawn must've injured me after all. I was actually thinking the witch would help somebody. Everyone knows the chances of that happening are like Reyn turning straight of Shale actively not squishing anyone. Well, we interrogated the innkeeper; a surly, bitter husk of a man who was absolutely no help in less you consider a bleak and decidedly unimportant family history lesson relevant to, I don't know…saving Ferelden from a gigantic dragon and its macabre army intent on massacring everyone into the Fade… We departed the inn and made a beeline to the solitary docks. A young templar stood on the wooden walkway, trying (and failing) to look intimidating and important. The Warden asked for passage and the man shot her down, saying that the knight-commander had given strict orders to deny any passage across the water unless it was important. Apparently, the self-righteous sword-flailer did not think of Grey Warden business as important.
Reyn was getting quite fed up with the templar, and her usual politeness was on the cusp between continuing diplomacy…or beating him senseless with her sword. While she struggled, Morrigan sauntered up to the templar, using her womanly wiles to garner his attention. Seeing all that skin on display obviously did the charm. He acquiesced to her asking of passage, but when he boldly suggested what she might do afterwards with his "broadsword," she proceeded to show him what all of my companions and I have learned: Morrigan is quite terrifying. He could not leave fast enough once we were ferried across. Hmmm, it was quite amusing, and Reyn could not keep the amusement out of her eyes, or mouth. I even saw something resembling a smile linger on Morrigan's face…nah, witches don't smile; they only cackle.
Upon entering the famous tower, we quickly spotted a man who looked like he was in charge. Greagoir, like all templars, was clad in heavy plate armor bedecked in the symbols of the Maker. His strong face was weathered with exhaustion, and dark circles made rings underneath his eyes. It was obvious that something indeed dire had befallen there. Reyn and Spicy Buns conversed with the templar-in-charge while the rest of us listened intently. He wove a horrifying tale; abominations and demons ran rampant through the halls of the circle. The sheer numbers of the things was unsettling, and the man did not believe there would be any mages who survived. He had sent word to Denerim, in order to get the Right of Annulment. When Wynne heard this, her eyes grew panicked and her breath whooshed out of her wizened mouth. She protested this action, wanting to at least see for herself that all was lost. The older mage could not in good faith let the death sentence commence without looking for potential survivors. She pleaded with Greagoir and Reyn added her words to the mix. The man showed them compassion and even though he thought we were heading into a suicide mission and thought us quite daft, he said he would grant us entry into the depths of the tower. He warned us that once we set foot into the tower, the doors would remain closed until the First Enchanter, Irving, stood before him. Otherwise, the Annulment would commence.
Because of the severity and high danger of the mission, the Warden elected to choose three other companions to aid her in this quest. Of course Wynne and Leliana were chosen, and I was picked as the last party member. Alistair wished to go as well, but Reyn reminded him that if she were to fall in battle with the monstrosities, he had no choice but to continue the mission. It was bad enough that she was being whisked away by such darkness, and Ferelden could not afford to lose the only other Warden currently residing there. So he reluctantly agreed to stay with the remaining templar forces in the main entrance, along with the rest of our group. We grabbed some last minute supplies from the admittedly attractive quartermaster and assumed the position at the door. One of the templars opened it for us, and we walked through. The sound of the heavy doors closing behind us sounded ominously against the stiff silence that surrounded us. Bodies littered the floor, black and red blood mingling together to form a horrific palette of colors on the floors. We went through one of the doorways located on the right side. The entire place was ravaged; pillows were split open, chests hurriedly left unlocked in a desperate display only to be left hanging open and full. Leliana found notes written by some of the apprentices. Most of them told of the bleak future that seemed to be in store for the magic users. Every room looked like the first; broken and siphoned through, leaving only the bare foundation. We neared another new door, but this one had a glowing blue field protecting it. There were several mages inside the room, with children huddled behind them, shivering in their abject terror. The mages all aimed their attention onto us and would have probably blasted us into a new century or turned us into nugs had Wynne not caught their attention. They immediately simmered down once the older woman came into view. They relayed the sad story to us all, talking about the betrayal being behind the madness of Uldred, a senior mage who dabbled in blood magic and started the tragic events that had befallen the tower. Kinnon, one of the apprentices in the room, gave his condolences to Reyn. She accepted his sympathy graciously, with only the tightening around her blue eyes any indication of her true feelings.
Wynne convinced the inhabitants to lower the shield, letting us through. We promised that we would kill anything beastly we saw and find any survivors. The shield went down and we ventured into the unknown, not fully ready for the horrors we would face. Soon after we had passed the shield, we came upon a library filled with our first batch of ghouls. The ghastly things ran at us, inhuman noises bursting through the misshapen bodies. We dispatched them with ease, and traveled throughout the once magnificent library, cleaning up along the way. After leaving the carnage in our wake, we entered the second floor of the hellish world we found ourselves in. We met a Tranquil, who gave us a little information but refused to leave for safety. Reyn reluctantly backed down, vowing that she would make it to where anything remotely evil would have no way to get through and harm him.
An endless array of battles ensued, our skills put to the test. Daggers slashed into putrid flesh, shields being covered in gore. The bodies of previous would-be heroes and victims were joined in their final resting places by their former colleagues-turned- monsters. We brought death and swift retribution, finally making it to a huge chamber. The chamber was absolutely covered in large, fleshy masses. The gooey tendrils resembled the abominations we encountered, and they pulsed with life from where they rested. In the center, a body lay dressed in the robes of a mage. Above the prone form stood the most horror-inducing thing I had ever before seen…and I have seen Morrigan and a countless slew of unappealing naked bodies. The thing was like a giant abomination, but something about it seemed off. It held a darker, more sinister presence than the other creatures. The fact that it started talking to us, enticing us to sleep was kind of a dead giveaway. Unfortunately, despite our Herculean efforts, all of us succumbed to an unbidden sleep. The last thing that ran through my mind before inky blackness took over was the saddening idea that my body could land in one of the pulsating flesh tendrils that had been seen frequently. And I had just polished this armor before, too….
The first thing I saw when I woke up was grass. And tents. A fire roiling in the center completed the scene. It was the campsite; our campsite. Except my companions were now where to be found. I was utterly alone with myself. I shakily stood up, brushing dirt off my leathers. I wrapped my hand around the end of my dagger, just in case of foul play. A movement to my right caught my eye; quick as a flash, I turned to meet the threat head-on. Instead of an enemy, however, my eyes landed on our leader and her bard. Reyn was standing tall and proud, her armor missing and a beautiful blue tunic gracing her body. The bard was likewise garbed, but in a soft cream-colored outfit. The weapons that were always so prominent were missing; the only weapons they possessed were the seductive and mischievous glints in their eyes. Cousland sauntered forward, her grin rivaling my own normal parody that was surprisingly absent. No words were spoken; she just let her fingers trail along my arm with unerring precision. I hastily grabbed her hand, surprised by the smoothness of her palms. I glanced at Leliana, but instead of a seething bard, I got a smoldering look thrown my way. She joined the Warden in their weird but not unwanted caressing, and despite my instincts screaming at me to watch out, my traitorous body let known my desire. I tried, I honestly did, but the two women called to my innermost needs, turning on my more basic instincts. I was helpless to refuse the hands that were presented to me, and I followed the two towards a large tent situated rather conveniently in the center of the campsite. Before I was swept away by my passion, I remember thanking the higher power of my good luck.
You can just imagine Reyn's face when see saw my…err, dream. She had successfully freed Wynne and Leliana, entering mine last. She was expecting something more along the lines of an old dalliance, or a memory of my time with the Crows. Seeing me in a compromising position with her doppelganger and one of the bard….was not quite what she had in mind. Of course, when she popped up in front of me, I did not see anything amiss. I just thought that Feastday had come early and the Maker was rewarding me for…something. The sight of another Warden did not deter me; another member in the tent was greatly welcomed. The shock, embarrassment and anger in her eyes also did not dissuade me…but her slap sure did. The girl certainly packed a punch…Needless to say, I woke up from my dream but disappeared before I could plead my case or get killed for my fantasy.
We all resurfaced in the middle of the dream world created by the Sloth demon. We all chipped in and fought the beast, whose shapeshifting powers gave us some grief. The battle was epic, and of course my dagger-wielding greatly aided us in the fight. We won and were transported back into the real world, but not before speaking one final time to Niall and learning of the Litany of Adralla's whereabouts on his body. With the tome safely in our grasp, we made our way further into the tower, getting closer to our final destination. We fought abominations, rage demons, and even a Desire demon who was intent on bewitching a hapless templar. Unfortunately, the only path we could see was one that led to the deaths of both the demon and the templar. Running through the last door before our final showdown with Uldred, we encountered another shield. Except instead of mage survivors, there was one lone templar. The man was obviously traumatized by the horrors he had seen, and he wanted retribution to befall upon the mages. Reasoning with him failed, and Cousland finally just told him that she would not have the Right of Annulment come into play. She would take on Uldred and his minions and save anymore survivors to be had. We walked up the steps, nearing our final barrier with Cullen's derisive shouts and warnings following us.
Uldred was not very impressive. Quite scholarly looking, with a frail looking body. The bald-headed mage tried to get us on his side, but we kept refusing. The Senior Enchanter, Irving, and a couple of survivors were restrained to the side. In his anger and frustration, Uldred transformed and sent his abominations at us in a killing frenzy. We gamely fought them off, occasionally activating the Litany in order to keep the remaining mages from transforming into mindless beasts. It was a long, arduous battle but good finally prevailed and we were victorious. Irving thanked us appreciatively, before following us back to Greagoir. When he saw the leader and the survivors, the commander let them all in and expressed his delight and disbelief. Cullen had been freed from his prison, demanding the mages be put to death. However, with our support, Greagoir dismissed those claims and agreed to help rebuild the tower. Irving agreed to accompany us along with his remaining people in order to cure young Connor. We left behind the carnage of the tower, hope budding within us of the future rebuilding of the proud institution.
As we speak, we are headed back towards Redcliffe, eager to send somebody in to help out the possessed boy and save Redcliffe from a bleak fate. I now take my leave my friends; Reyn has confided in the Chantry sister of my dream, and the daggers shot my way are far sharper than the tips of my blades. My manhood shall not remain intact for long without a hasty and wise retreat. Remember dear readers, if you are having a sex dream, never do it in a strange dream world induced by a demon who wishes to show you pleasant things in order to suck the life out of you. Your fantasies may see you, and will probably not be grateful for it. Take this to heart or you may find yourself unable to procreate. Cheers, my friends.
Adieu,
Zevran, the currently fleeing elf
Author's note: I know the dream sequence was completely different, but I was under the assumption that the Sloth demon places you in a dream you do not wish to leave. Having a steamy encounter with our two favorite ladies sounded like the perfect way to keep Zev happy, and Reyn's reaction was utterly fun to write. Also, I am planning on writing at least one other companion's thoughts in a journal. Reyn Cousland's is definitely going to be written. I am also interested in writing from Morrigan and Leliana's viewpoints. If you would want to see their journals, leave me some feedback on your thoughts. Any info will be taken to heart, and will most likely influence my decision.
