…The fourth-most common enemy, or just demon, to emerge from the Fade, would be the Fear and Sloth demons. These creatures respectively posses the ability to make even the staunchest of fighters flee with soiled drawers and to make those unfortunate close enough fall into a forced slumber in which the demons of the Fade can harass the victim to the point of succumbing.

Suggested means of disposal: Kill them with fire.

The final, and by far the most rare demon to emerge from a rift or a tear though, is the Pride demon. This monster of a Fade-dweller easily towers above even the huge ogres of the Blight, and share almost none of their fellows in size's vulnerabilities. Their bodies are in their entirety covered with hard, black scales, often aided by organic-looking spikes to keep any and all potential threats from making significant impacts.

While excelling in defense, the Pride demon also possess one of the most insidious methods of killing its opponents from afar. Magically electrical chains from its hands will fly out and either trap or outright kill anyone caught in them.

I was lucky…I didn't die.

Suggested means of disposal: Everything that also allows you to flee…

…missing page from the demons- section of 'A study into the magic of Thedas', Chapter 2.

Demon or Daedra?

Navigating the Fade was, at best, something Talia would prefer to sic on Ancano. Divines knew the haughty bastard deserved something that could scare the white out of his hair…or, just the hair off his head. Whatever worked, really. Daveth was still shaken after being pulled out from his own personal nightmare, and the man who could normally rival Alistair in witty banter was now somberly quiet.

Talia herself was just happy he hadn't cracked before they'd arrived there. Ten hours. She could hardly fathom him having spent that long while to her it seemed like an hour at most had passed. Did time flow differently here in the Fade? Did time even exist? That thought, and the images of a ravaged Brelyna split her brain's capacity in two. And despite knowing it had only been a nightmare, a dream, she still itched to see Brelyna again, if only to confirm that her friend was unharmed.

Still, with Wynne being the one taking the lead, she was somewhat assured that they at least wouldn't be stuck in the nightmarish landscape forever. Talia just wished she'd been able to keep her staff with her, mainly because she was annoyed at seeing Wynne so effortlessly handle her own, walking around the Fade with all the grace of an old woman. Which, usually, wasn't much, but the old mage pulled it off regardless.

"So…we're going to Aedan's dream next…" Alistair muttered, looking between the two mages; "I can already tell that won't be fun at all."

"I don't know where we're going, honestly…" Talia replied as she glared at the Fade; "I can barely figure out what's up and down in here, much less where to go to find someone…Wynne?"

"There is a great chance of us finding either, actually, given the proximity of our bodies to each other." The old woman explained; "Most likely, yes, the next dream will be Aedan's."

"Let's just get this done with, shall we?" Talia kicked another pebble over the edge: this one flew upwards instead. And this time, she merely furrowed her brows a little, not bothering enough to actually deign it with a scowl; "I want to leave this place. Like, now."

Wynne nodded, placing her staff on her back – it stuck there, meaning she must have something similar to Talia's own robes – and performed the same tearing motion as before. The Fade around them vanished, changing into something a lot less weird: a small village.

"Why does this place seem too familiar?" Alistair muttered aloud. From his tone, Talia couldn't tell if he already knew the answer, but she told him the obvious one anyway;

"It's Lothering…or, at least a small part of it." She gestured to where the path towards the windmill off in the distance became remarkably flat, just like the city of Denerim had been. The weirdest thing this time, was that people seemed normal until a certain distance, whereupon they simply seemed to become two-dimensional and unmoving; "This is the part near its Chantry, far as I can see."

"I didn't take Aedan as a very devout young man." Wynne stated, looking up at the way the sun bathed the bright day in warm rays.

"I don't think this is his dream." Alistair said, as he stepped forward towards the Chantry; "my guess lies on Leliana."

"She used to be a Sister." Daveth added, upon Wynne's confused expression; "Met her 'ere, actually. Wearing robes'n all while trying to convince highwaymen of the 'error of their ways'."

"So logic dictates she'd be in here…" Talia nodded, and walked to where Alistair was pushing open the doors to the Chantry proper. Inside, kneeling in front of an altar, a woman wearing Chantry robes was kneeling in prayer.

Talia frowned as she walked closer, eyes scanning the room. When they fell upon the woman before the altar again, she was confirmed in her suspicion.

This wasn't Leliana. Instead, the woman had long, black hair that was tied into a thick braid down her back. Sharp-tipped ears peeked out from underneath the raven strands, and the cheek Talia could see bore an intricate tattoo of some sort. It looked a bit like Aedan's, at first glance, but upon further – from a distance, naturally – examination, there were distinct differences.

And even if this wasn't who they'd come for, Talia could somehow feel that this was a dreamer, not a figment of the Fade. She wasn't sure how she could feel it, she just could. So, she tapped the praying woman on the shoulder, ever so lightly, to call upon her attention.

"Ah, my apologies…" she started when the elf turned around to regard the group; "But, I was looking for a friend of mine. Red hair, probably dressed in a…What am I doing, this isn't Leliana's…" resisting the urge for a facepalm, she started over, doing her best to ignore the woman's confused reaction; "This might sound a bit weird, but you wouldn't happen to be a Circle mage, would you?"

"I…No, I am not." the elf replied with no small amount of confusion; "I do not even have magic, so it goes without saying that-"

"Cíada." Wynne stepped forward, earning herself a sideways look from Talia before the Breton managed to grind her mental gears into action and process the name; "Do you know who I am?"

Cíada was the name of the mage Wynne had mentioned freed the Templar Cullen from some sort of barrier. Did this mean she as well had fallen to the demon's powers? The elf in mention cocked her head and looked at Wynne like the old mage had grown an extra head.

"You…seem…familiar, somehow, but I am afraid I cannot place you, Serah Mage." Cíada replied uncertainly, glancing at the rest of the group; "You travel with armed companions. Has something happened?"

"Aside from you being trapped in the Fade?" Talia entered, earning an even more confused look from the currently-believing-she-is-a-Sister. She turned to Wynne as a thought, something so obvious it should have been what they'd been doing from the very start, entered her mind; "Do we convince her or just shatter the illusion? I want to find Aedan before it's too late."

"What illusion?" Cíada demanded, growing just a bit more heated in her words; "Are you interrupting my prayers just to make jokes?"

"You are in the Fade, Cíada." Wynne explained; "I do not know how you fell prey to the Sloth demon, but your body is currently sleeping in the Circle Tower in Kinloch Hold. Think back, to how you got here, in the Chantry."

"…I live here, Serah." Cíada stated slowly, as if speaking to a demented; "I came to the altar from my personal chambers, after I rose. I do this every day."

"I'm going to shatter this, Wynne." Talia said, having lost her patience. She took up the stance and focused the magic through her arms, and into her hand where the long- and index finger were gathered in point; "Stand back."

Before anyone could ask 'from where', she released the bolt of lightning from her hand, directing it at the altar. Logic would have it that disrupting the center-object of the dream would have the greatest effect. Cíada, on the other hand, seemed to disagree, as her hands flew to her face in horror;

"Maker! What are you-" when the bolt hit, the altar, and everything around it, shattered and dissolved like a slow-running liquid, and from behind the running surface, the yellow-tinted Fade once again peeked forth; "…doing."

"Seriously should have just done that from the start." Daveth noted, looking around; "I've had just about enough of this place for one dream, let alone everyone's."

"Agree on that, I do." Alistair muttered in what almost seemed like a sage-y tone; "Cíada, do you remember now?"

The elf in question was no longer wearing Chantry robes, but instead the same blue-purple garments both Jowan and Owain had been wearing, and the thick braid was transformed into loosely flowing hair that seemed to cascade down the woman's neck like a raven waterfall, framing her face quite nicely.

Races aside, Talia wasn't beyond admitting to herself that the girl was pretty damn gorgeous. And had a certain attraction as well. I really seem to have a thing for elves, don't I?

"…Wynne?" Cíada asked in a baffled tone; "I…I…We're in the Fade."

"We are, yes." The old mage confirmed with a solemn nod; "A Sloth demon overpowered our group, and sent us to each his or her dream and nightmare."

"A…Sloth demon…Shartan, how long have I been asleep?" Cíada barred her teeth in a growl as she clenched her fists. Sparks danced up and down her arms as she did. Talia rose a brow, but nothing more. This woman or girl – frankly, she wasn't sure how to estimate how old elves were in Thedas – was one of Wynne's people, not hers. If something weird happened, Wynne would be the one to deal with it.

"I do not know, but at most it has been a day." Wynne's reply did seem to calm the elf down a bit, which prompted the old woman to continue; "Do you know what became of Niall?"

"…The last thing I remember is…feeling incredibly drowsy. Niall was with me there, but…I do not know what became of him after…" Cíada regretfully muttered, looking around at the others; "But…I do not know the rest of you. Wynne, who are these people?"

"Friends." Was all the old crone replied, seemingly hesitant to reveal Alistair or Talia's identities. Personally, the Breton wasn't sure which would be worse: Former Templar or hostile mage. Pick your poison, I guess…Not bad, Wynne; "We still need to find the others."

"Doesn't that mean you're supposed to 'do the thing'?" Talia asked the old mage. Wynne nodded and took a step forward, putting some distance between them, and repeated the tearing motion; "Oh boy, this-"

The Fade changed, becoming a dark cellar, or a dungeon; "-is going to be…Okay, this isn't familiar."

There were screams of agony echoing through the darkened corridor of stone and wood they stood in. it seemed like it was underground, what with the distinct lack of windows, and the air tasted stale. Dust danced in the light from lit torches, and the floor was covered in a mixture of dried blood and grime.

"It's familiar enough to me…" Daveth muttered, looking around as his jaw visibly set; "It looks like the dungeons of Denerim…"

"Whose dream would take place here?" Alistair looked around, maybe hoping to spot the dreamer in mention; "Aedan's never been jailed, right?"

"Not to my knowledge, no…" Talia replied as she cast a magelight to illuminate the corridor better than the torches could; "…this place looks like a maze. Do you think it could be Leliana's?"

"Why would…Actually…" Alistair rubbed his chin in that way Talia had come to associate with him actually using his brain. In a serious connection, at least. Most of the time, it was probably tasked with dreams involving Leliana, cheese-fondue…or both. It was just damned lucky that she could conceal the shiver going down her spine as Alistair spoke again; "Do you remember Redcliffe?"

"Hard not to, you know, but yeah…I think I know what you mean." Daveth muttered as he touched the wall. His hand drew back like he'd been burned; "Lils gave me the impression she'd been to this place before…"

"So this is her dream then?" Wynne asked, sighing when Alistair gave a reluctant nod; "I see…Then we should assume this setting is not that of a pleasant dream…"

"Couldn't we just shatter it?" because that seemed to have worked just fine with Cíada.

"I'd rather not." Wynne replied somberly; "the shock could put severe stress of her mind, if the illusion shattered without warning."

"Plus it gives you one hell of a headache…Shite…" Cíada cursed under her breath. Talia nodded, annoyed at the reply, but amused at the elf's behavior, and stopped prepping power for the lightning.

"So we just have to find her then?" Daveth asked, taking a step forward; "Damn, that's not going to be a fund sight when we do…this place is probably givin' her a shit time, I'd wager."

"Yeah, that'd be the gist of it, I'd wager…" Talia mirrored Daveth on purpose – she wasn't quite sure why though - holding out her palm. Again, this was something she should have considered already the moment they needed to find Daveth. Of course, they'd had the sound of fighting to follow at that one, so there hadn't been any need for it. Leliana. Leliana. Leliana.

A buzzing sensation followed as the magic flowed from the palm of her hand, and onto the cold stone floor. Slowly, the telltale purplish glow of the Clairvoyance-spell started flickering into being, dragging a line across the floor and forward.

"That's…unusual magic." The elf noted when Talia looked around; "What is it?"

"It's a tracking-spell. Think of the person you want to find, and if he or she's close, this'll track her down…" Talia said as she started following the trail. It was a half-truth, really, as the spell would also point out where what you wanted to find was. It was incredibly helpful back when Brother had hidden away her shoes. Bastard, and he hadn't changed much since becoming an adult, which was why Talia generally tended to avoid him; "But if you try using it over longer distances, the magical drain could potentially drain you like a grape…not pleasant."

The elf gave a 'hmm' in response, and followed silently as the group made its way through the seemingly endless halls and corridors of the dungeons. Damn, this place was a lot more expansive than the other illusions, which must almost mean that Leliana knew this place better than anyone really had expected.

Talia wasn't sure if that was a good thing, if she was to be honest.

When the trail ended at a locked door, Talia wasted little time before igniting her palm and ripping the locking mechanism from its liquefied position. When the door simply fell open, they were treated to an unsettling sight.

"Mara on a horse…" because really, not a whole lot of words could properly cover what they saw: Leliana was chained to the wall, stripped to her smalls and every inch of her skin sported either cuts or bruises. She didn't even look up to see who'd ripped her door out, instead seemingly content with hanging her face down.

"Lils." Daveth was at her side before the Breton had even extinguished the fire in her palms. Talia was far beyond being surprised at this deeper side to Daveth at this point, but she still blinked at his behavior now; "Lils, look at me."

When Leliana did look up, it became fairly obvious why she hadn't when they'd entered. And as she stared in horror at the redhead's empty eye sockets, Talia discovered that it wasn't possible to vomit in the Fade.

"Oh Maker…" Cíada, who was the only one to not have met Leliana previously, was also the only one who seemed capable of speech at this point. Now though, Talia stopped caring if they could possibly do anything to Leliana by dissolving the illusion, and directed an angry bolt at the nearest wall.

When the illusion shattered, so did the visage of a tortured and broken Leliana, and in her stead was the Leliana they'd hoped to see. No bruises. No cuts. And no empty eye sockets. Magnus on a mare, I didn't need to see that…

Leliana blinked rapidly, hesitantly touching her eyelids and looking around, examining her now freed hands and legs before looking directly at the group. Talia winced inwardly at the way the redhead looked somewhere between excruciatingly hurt, and immensely relieved at seeing them. Why was it that she herself had been given a dream that could easily have been any and all normal days back at the College, while Daveth and Leliana were treated to utter horrorscapes?

"I…this…is the Fade?" she asked slowly, almost sounding afraid of the answer she might receive; "…and, I can…see?"

"Why was the nightmare set in a dungeon?" Wynne asked, earning herself a mildly irritated look from the Breton;

"How about we just focus on finding Aedan, and then we play 'ten questions'?" that, and because whatever caused the nightmare to be set in the dungeon was likely not something Leliana wanted to talk about. Daveth hadn't yet told them why his nightmare had been what it was, though Talia had a pretty good idea as to the reason. Still, she respected them enough – Leliana too – that she wasn't going to neither pry nor stand by and let someone else pry.

She figured they would discuss it later, anyway.

"Of course." Wynne nodded; "That should take priority."

When Wynne's spell tore the Fade again, this time Talia suddenly had to suppress a scream of fear as the entire group found themselves hovering in the air. Looking down between her own legs, Talia could see a landmass of some sort, most of it colored in a uniform grey.

When she then managed to look up, she was treated to an even more surprising sight. And couldn't really help cracking a fond smile.

A king-sized bed was standing in the middle of a wall-less room, decorated in much the same way as Aedan's room in Highever had been. There even was a basket on the floor, containing a sleeping Mabari who – and Talia didn't even need to guess – was obviously Turk, Aedan's dead hound.

Most of what was on the bed was hidden beneath a thick cover, but she could still easily see what was going on. Her own mirage was peacefully asleep, red hair spread over the top of the cover's edge and her own naked shoulders. A smile played on the mirage's face when the person sleeping behind her, Aedan – likewise seemingly naked – snuggled up a little closer.

Aedan's dream definitely was just that: a dream. And, Talia had to admit, it was deeply touching that Aedan's dream was something as seemingly simple as sharing a bed with her. There wasn't even – at the moment – anything remotely fun going on, instead simply the peaceful, happy and content illusion of being with her. Damn…I guess that means there's not really any doubt as to whether or not he really feels something for me…

Up until now, she'd believed he desired her body, but saw her as nothing but a good friend. Far as mistakes in judgments went, this pretty much proved that she once again had completely mistaken a person's intentions and personality, with this being at least the former.

"Cover your eyes, Lils, this's a private thing." When she heard Daveth's voice, Talia suddenly remembered there were others in the air with her, and she blushed to a color that rivaled her hair. Glancing around, she was terrified at the intensity and curiosity with which her companions looked upon the scene, and her smile turned into a mild scowl;

"Do a painting, Daveth, it'll last you longer…" she grumbled, and semi-swam through the air to get to the hovering floor.

"Just saying, it's mighty cute."

"Alistair! Daveth! Close your eyes or lose them!" Talia growled at the boys.

"It is very sweet, though." Leliana agreed, nodding with a fond crease to her lips. Talia just did her best to ignore Daveth while sending the other redhead a glare that basically spelled 'I thought you were on my side?', and silently walked up to the side of the bed claimed by her body-double. When she got there, she flickered the mirage on the forehead, and watched as its eyes, both a deep green that mirrored hers, opened in an annoyed frown.

"Sorry, Fade-girl, but this guy's taken." Talia said, crossing her arms as not-Talia yawned and looked around, clearly annoyed;

"T'is a pity." She muttered, sounding almost as feline in speech as a Khajiit as she slipped from the bed. By some trick or spell, she avoided waking up Aedan. When not-Talia was standing before Talia, nude as the day she'd been born at that – and Talia wanted to burn Daveth's eyes from his skull, not to mention Alistair who was gawking in shock - , she changed into a less appealing appearance. Her skin greyed and golden chains started hanging from her nipples, allthewhile horns sprouted from her head and the red hair turned purple and shortened; "But, I suppose it was actually enjoyable while it lasted."

"…what the hell are you?" Talia frowned, looking between this odd woman, and the still sleeping Aedan.

"It's a Desire demon!" Alistair shouted in warning. When he made to approach, nothing happened, and he simply remained where he was, to which the 'Desire demon' – was this was Duncan had said her Atronach looked like? – smirked.

"Forgive my…attire, I forgot your kind is not very aware of demons, as we are called." The demon, her voice no longer anything like Talia's own, replied as she arched her back sensually. The way the breasts stood out, Talia wasn't surprised that she could hear Daveth's heavy breathing from where she stood; "I am a simple inhabitant of this dream, though as your friend declared, I am called a demon of Desire."

"Fitting name, I'll admit that much." Talia said, offering the demon a grinning nod as she made a point of openly staring at her tits. If she could unnerve a demon, that'd be an achievement to rub in…well, probably Morrigan's face at some point. Still, her grin became a scowl as she looked between the demon and Aedan again, the latter still asleep; "What do you think you're doing there, though?"

"Merely…" the demon cradled her own breast, playing with the chain piercing her nipple. That's gotta hurt though; "…taking a break. I truly attempted seeing into this splendid human's mind, to see if there was something I could use, but… his greatest desire seemed to be this. It is sweet though, I shall grant that much."

"…what?" Talia could hear Leliana and Alistair exclaim in unison behind her. She kept her eyes on the demon though.

"So, why isn't he waking up?"

"Oh, he won't for as long as I am here…" the demon's expression changed to a sultry smile, and her appearance once more was that of Talia's own; "This is how he will perceive me, regardless of your knowledge. I am, however, in a good mood, and extend an offer to you."

"I seem to remember the only sensible thing the Circle ever said was to not make deals with demons?"

"Oh, it is nothing of the sort of a deal." The demon replied, the smile never leaving her lips; "I could leave now, no strings attached…"

"Which would be best!" Alistair remarked from his place behind them. Once more, Talia simply ignored him, focusing on the demon;

"…I'm sensing an option B, here?" she stated, locking eyes with the – and she had to admit that much – seductively appearing version of herself. Granted, the breasts were a little more…well, big, and there was less fat on her sides, but the version was basically herself. Which, she supposed, was pretty flattering.

"Have you never dreamt of sharing a man with yourself?" the demon-Talia asked, her voice sending shivers of sensual delight down Talia's spine. Gods, but that did sound...weird, yes, but in a good way; "I could grant you both your greatest desires. Pleasure beyond what mortals could ever grant one another?"

"Damn…I like that offer…" Talia smirked, reaching a hand out to caress her double's generous breast. The nipple instantly perked, and the demon moaned softly as Talia's hand then moved up, softly trailing along the pale, soft skin until it came to rest on the cheek. A finger, then two and finally all but the thumb slipped smoothly into the ample, red lips; "But… I. don't. share."

Before the demon could do more than widen her eyes, powerful surges of electricity ran through Talia's hand and into the demon's head, frying her like a floured fish. Talia's other hand came up, sparks dancing across her fingers as she grabbed the demon by the forehead. It didn't take five seconds, and the demon simply evaporated.

"…Bitch." She muttered, looking to where the rest of the party was finally able to move. Alistair in particular was sending her an odd look; "What? I fried her, what's it matter how I did it?"

"…w-what?" Aedan's drowsy and confused voice came from the bed, followed by a small exclamation of surprise when he saw the rest of the group appear before him. Likely, his eyes saw walls, not Fade when they looked around, and to him it must look like they just came through a wall;" What's…"

"Sleep well?" Talia asked, walking around the bed as she trailed a finger on the covers. She could see in the way Aedan's eyes tracked her movements that he was trying to piece the scene together; "Just so you know, you only had to ask."

Before the poor sod could even process a response, Talia zapped the wall and dissolved the illusion. Aedan, sadly, regained his clothing the same instant, so she missed out on a rewarding sight. Still, she had the patience, and…What am I doing, thinking about this? We need to get out of here. Hate the Fade. Hate the Fade. Hate the Fade. Hate the Fade. Hate-

Her thoughts were interrupted when she realized they were, in fact, still above the grey landmass, though actually descending towards it. Great, and since she'd just zapped the illusion, that'd mean this was the raw Fade, and therefore not zap-able. And yet, they were definitely going downwards towards something…manmade, by the looks of it.

And, she could see now, there was actually a human being, dressed in odd colors, down there as well. Her sigh of relief, though, changed to an expression of horror when she realized why the man down there, with his weird colors, seemed oddly familiar.

"Oh piss…" she groaned, snapping towards the rest of the finally reassembled-plus-one group; "Everybody. No matter what, if the man down there cracks a joke, you laugh."

"Helloooo! Visitors!" the man in mentioned hollered, jumping up and down as he waved at them. Talia could just feel a shiver going down her spine at his insane tone; "Oh, I've been so lonely here!"

Generally, few actually feared Sheogorath, the 'Prince of Madness'. This was either out of stupidity, or because the individual happened to have already met the Madman, and had become equally insane as a result of said meeting.

Talia though, was neither stupid nor insane. Therefore, when they drifted to a slow, soft landing, the first thing she did was to put on a wide grin, like she was incredibly happy to see the Daedric Prince. After all, no texts yet stated that Daedra could read minds, right?

"Lord Sheogorath!" she exclaimed happily, offering the Prince a deep bow of respect; "To what do any of us mere mortals owe the honor of entrance into your Isles?"

"Oh, you know, I was getting bored with all those stiff-nosed people around here." The Prince of Madness shrugged, digging up a platter from a suddenly appearing table between them; "Cheese?"

"Don't mind if I do!" she exclaimed happily again, and tossed a few the others' way; "Man, I love cheese!"

"EVERYBODY loves CHEESE!" the Daedric madman exclaimed, throwing out his hands as cheese wheels started raining from the skies; "Ah, but I guess the others had to be party-poopers. You see, they weren't INVITED!" and cue the maniacal laughter, to which she quickly joined in, as did the others, though Wynne was obviously not used to dealing with Daedric Princes. The woman's laugh was mostly a stiff chuckle, which seemed to make the grey-haired Daedra frown; "Don't you wanna guess who wasn't invited? Come on, Talia, it'll be fun!"

She wasn't even going to wonder how he knew her name, cocked her head sideways and smiled brightly;

"Who wasn't invited, Lord Sheogorath?"

"Why, the readers, of course!" he laughed, pointing…well, pointing everywhere at once, actually. Thank the Aedra that she knew how to deal with Daedra. Well, some of them at least. If they met Molag Bal, she wasn't even going to bother trying to defeat the monster it had taken Martin becoming the manifestation of Akatosh to banish.

Still, she hadn't been prepared for the 'reader' trick. That was a new one. At least, she was pretty sure it was. Far as she knew, the Hero of Kvartch hadn't been assaulted with 'readers' by the Mad Prince, but then again, so much was lost in translations and the passing of time.

"What are they reading, Lord Sheogorath, since they aren't invited here?" Alistair asked, receiving a cold glare from the Daedra; "…what?"

"It is very impolite to interrupt a conversation, you know." The Prince snapped his fingers, and Alistair was two feet tall. When he yelped in shock and panic, it sounded like a mouse on gasses. Sheogorath grinned and twirled his grey moustache; "Now then, Junior, be nice and you'll get to listen to the grown-ups!"

"But it's a good question though!" he shot a pointed finger into the air; "What is any of us truly reading these days? I swear, so many people are reading sassy and poorly written stories about vampires who sparkle in the sun. SPARKLE! Even I think that is utterly mad!"

"Are those the not invited party-poopers, my Lord?" Talia dared, inwardly hoping the man wouldn't turn her into a sheep. He just barked a laugh;

"Ah no, I couldn't care less about them. Or the ones reading about Gryffindorians and Slytherinians making out in the showers! It's Yaoi, I tell them: YAOI!" He yelled, shaking a fist at the skies as a pig came flying past. The mad prince snapped a finger, and the poor cretin turned it self inside out and became an explosion of cheese. There's a reason people ought to fear this man…"But no, the readers I didn't invite are YOUR readers!"

"…"

"Lost your tongue? I didn't take it… not yet at least!" Sheogorath cackled when Talia was temporarily stunned by the absurdity of his words. Even for the Mad Prince, this was just madness…wait, that didn't even make sense.

"M-my Lord, what do you mean by 'my readers'?" she asked hesitantly, hoping no one would share the fate of the flying pig-turned-roasted-pork; "I do not remember having published any books…Did I forget I published a book?"

"No, no, no!" he exclaimed, suddenly sounding terrified at the prospect of her as an author; "There's a Nord kid who's wasting his time writing a story with you in it! He even planned your friends' deaths and everything! MARVELOUS! MARVELOUS, I TELL YOU!"

"…Damn, I didn't even know…" insanity was his specialty, after all. Damn, but that was a new standard alright. People writing stories about her? Pffff, utter madness; "My Lord, I know you'll think me a party-pooper, but we really need to get back to saving the day."

Contrary to her fears, the man just grinned and flipped through a suddenly appeared book. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he read, eyes moving faster than any human could ever hope to read.

"Right, right, right, I was getting to that…I says here you had to say that before I could send you back. That, and 'what'." He smiled as he slapped the book shut.

"…what?" Alistair squeaked, actually earning himself a shrug;

"I guess that'll do. Tootles!" He smiled, slowly fading from view along with the rest of the scene; "Oh, and you can look forward to…" his words faded into nothing along with the Fade. Not that Talia minded not hearing whatever he'd been saying.

She was just glad when she opened her eyes and stared into the red-covered domed ceiling of the central chamber, back in the Tower. When she sat up, rubbing her sore eyelids and the eyes behind them, she could hear the groans of the others as they too woke up. There was the new voice as well: the elf, Cíada, who'd apparently been in the room as well.

"That…was…" Alistair started, then stopped himself as he apparently lost his trail of thoughts. Talia shrugged and gave a dry chuckle;

"Madness?" she asked, not even waiting for a nod; "That's Sheogorath for you. Prince of Madness, one of the less unpleasant Daedric Princes you can come across. Still, as you might have guessed, he is also utterly insane and unpredictable…you shouldn't take anything he says seriously."

Mainly the whole 'readers' thing, but she'd prefer to have everyone forget about that part. The thought alone, coupled with the fact that the Mad Prince had apparently been reading some sort of book detailing her actions, was in itself deeply unsettling.

That, and the fact that the Sloth demon was nowhere to be seen, just added to her pile.

"He didn't seem like any sort of demon I've ever heard of…Maker, my head is murdering me…" the elven mage groaned, slim fingers going through her raven hair. Wynne slapped a blue spell at the girl, and her expression relaxed as she looked around; "…thanks. Cullen, is he…?"

"He is safe, Cíada." Wynne assured the elf, then continued to the slight blush of the younger mage; "I believe he has you to thank for that."

"…yeah, well, I…it was on my way and he's a good sort, and…" she shook her head as if to clear her mind, and looked back at Talia while picking up a heavy tome from the body of a dead mage; "Damn it, Niall…I told him to wait, but he rushed straight into the Sloth demon…But, what was that 'Sheogorath' creature? You called him a 'Prince of Madness?'"

"The Prince of Madness." Talia corrected her; "And he's more than just a creature or a demon. He's a Daedra, and one of the more powerful there are. The Shivering Isles, the place we met him at just now, is his plane of Oblivion…the fact that we went from the Fade to there must mean there really is a connection…could the Fade be a plane of Oblivion no one knows about yet?"

"Listen, could we hold the theology-lessons after we've saved the tower?" Alistair asked; "There's still screaming coming from upstairs, in case you haven't noticed."

"…right." Talia shook herself out of the stunned stupor followed by Alistair reminding her not to waste time. Then again, after all she's just seen, maybe a complete reevaluation of the group was in order. Maybe; "Wynne, lead the way?"

Wynne nodded, leading the group up a new flight of stairs that ended up in a vaguely familiar setting. Talia remembered having been walked through her on the way to her Harrowing, barbaric bullshit though it still remained, meaning this had to be the place where the Templars lived.

"These are the Templar quarters." Cíada explained as they walked; "The Knight-Commander's personal chamber is over there, while the rest share dormitories and facilities along this corridor."

"I didn't think mages were allowed in here usually." Alistair noted, sending the elf a glance; "How do you know all that?"

"I…I think Cullen wanted to distract me when he led me to my Harrowing. He talked a lot about what was where and what-not and- What, are you implying something?" Cíada shot Alistair a glare at the way he smiled, and Wynne rolled her eyes knowingly.

Talia just chuckled, despite the situation. She was sort of liking the diminutive girl, cage-mage though she might be. She had a temper she could recognize from herself.

"Well, there's no one home right now, far's I can see." Daveth muttered, sticking his head through different doors as they walked; "I'm guessing that means all of them are down at the entrance."

"And I see no more demons either…" Leliana remarked as they neared the stairs leading to what Talia hoped was the final level. She did recognize them as the stairs she'd walked up and into the Harrowing Chambers on; "I thought there was a horde of them here."

"Templars managed to get rid of most, but those remaining overpowered the defenders, plus blood mages and abominations added to the trouble…" Cíada muttered, hefting the tome in her arms; "The Litany of Andralla should protect against the former, hopefully. Just need someone to read it aloud when a blood mage tries something."

"…how does reading a book protect from magic?" Talia asked despite herself. She received a stunned look from the elf;

"It's a holy book, written by Andralla herself upon completion of her studies into blood magic."

"…still confused." The Breton muttered, looking around to see if that was a common factor. Apparently it was not, and she suddenly felt silly for even trying to question how magic worked. Hell, people were still trying to figure out how wards worked, back home. She sighed as they started up the stairs; "But…never mind. If it works, it works."

"That's the spirit." Daveth clapped her on the shoulder. She sent him an annoyed glance, but saw in his eyes the same concern she felt herself. They both worried about what they might face beyond the stairs. Daveth just hid it better. He apparently always had.

He failed at hiding his surprise though, when they entered the Harrowing Chamber.

A group of abominations was standing in a closed formation, doing some sort of magic on a mage lying on the ground between them. Slowly, the mage was pulled into the air, hanging as if held by invisible hands as his form was wreathed in lightning that danced across his chest.

Talia had her staff whipped forward out of pure instinct, faster than anyone else could react, but realized with stinging regret that if she shot something at them, she might kill the hovering mage as well. So instead, she was forced to just watch as a barrier separated the group from the abominations. Really, it didn't seem like it was meant to stop her kind of magic, but it was probably meant to stop physical entry, such as arrows, swords and people.

Which meant, they had to watch. Just stand and watch as the agonizing process finished, and the mage, who looked little older than Jowan, started convulsing and going into spasms. His skin darkened, the hair fell off, his clothes ripped and his entire face twisted and mutated, folding in on itself beneath an appearing layer of brown, fleshy…stuff.

So…this was how Abominations were made? Fuck…that was just disgusting…

"Ah, visitors." A vaguely familiar, bald man declared as he strode out from the barrier; "Have you come to partake in our revels?"

"Are you Uldred?" Talia asked. When he nodded, smiling all friendly and piss, she frowned; "You told the mages that Loghain would support their freedom…" she could already feel Wynne's gaze on her back; "why would he do that?"

Uldred shrugged; "Truth be told, the Regent could not find it in his time to meet with me personally. I was contacted by his advisor, one Teyrn Rendon Howe." And now Talia could hear how Aedan's morsels ground against each other. She had to place a hand on his arm to make him stay where he was. She sent the boy a look that basically said 'kill him after I'm done talking'.

"Did you say 'Teyrn'?" Talia turned her eyes back at the superior and haughty Uldred. Now she remembered why he was familiar. He'd been that grumpy mage arguing with the Chantry lady at Ostagar. A slight smile played on her lips as she realized she'd at least been right about not liking him. That it had been for something completely unrelated, didn't matter now; "As I recall it, Howe is an Arl, not a Teyrn."

"He presented himself as such." Uldred nodded, though she was unsure why he did it; "But he was acting by order of the Regent, and the Regent needed to ensure the mages would support him over the Grey Warden treaties. For what reason, I do not know. Nor do I really care."

"Is Irving still alive?" she looked around the chamber as she spoke. She could see someone hunched and tied in a group at the far side of the room, but couldn't see who it was. Seven or so people, that was all. Uldred nodded, and Talia flashed a feral grin; "Good. Then I'll just kill you with fire now, if that's okay."

"Fight all you will, it will only make my victory that much sweeter!" Uldred shouted, repelling Talia's fireball with a shimmering shield as he jumped back. Talia was about to pursue him, when he simply stopped, and lightning started dancing across his body. Great. He's going to become an abomi…

Her thoughts died, when Uldred seemed to explode in a mixture of flashing light and shredded skin. Where the bald mage had just been, now a creature towered above them. It far outsized the ogre they'd seen in the last tower she'd been at, and more eyes than she could care to count were nestled above a mouth of huge, blackened teeth. Each arm was as thick as her waist, dark with blackened muscles and scales, sporting a long, backwards-going spike that should have toppled the…thing, backwards.

"…this is bad, right?" she whispered, seriously considering if the monster could follow them back down the stairs. Both Wynne and Cíada remained though, so she'd rather die than admit to having less gut than a pair of cage-mages…Even if those guts could end up smeared across the floor.

"He's a Pride Demon!" Alistair swore, bringing up his hands in preparation for a 'smite', as it was called. It was the cheating technique used by the Templars, and it was starting to dawn on Talia just why those annoying bucketheads were needed, if this was what mages in Thedas could become. It didn't mean she liked it though, nor did she agree with the way mages in general were treated here. But she understood their need, nonetheless; "Leliana, take the Litany. Use it if Uldre- if that thing starts using blood magic."

The redhead nodded, took the tome from a pale Cíada, and slipped into the shadows of the room. It was seriously creepy how people did that without magic here, but Talia wasn't of a mind to care more than that. Mainly because right now, Alistair slapped the demon in the face with his 'smite', and led the charge along with Aedan.

"Yeah, no. You're not stealing my fire here…" she grumbled, focused her energy and sent a bust of lightning at the abominations approaching the charging warriors. The surge was so powerful that it left her panting at its use, but at least there remained nothing more of the cretins than smears on the stone.

"Not bad." The elf at her side nodded. Talia was about to direct an annoyed, just a little, glare at the girl, when she did something with her hands. It looked a bit like what Jowan had done to the mage at the ambush, only different as it seemed to catch the demon here on fire. But it didn't look like fire. More like some sort of entropic power that ate away at its skin and flesh, allthewhile it was busy swiping at Aedan and Alistair; "But this is my home!"

"And you can keep it!" Talia retorted, launching into a series of swings and jabs that had lighting, fire and ice shoot from both ends of the staff. Even when the fireballs left the ends in swings, they followed curved routes and still found their target; "'Long as-"

Aedan narrowly missed her as a successful swipe from the clawed hand sent him flying through the air. Talia's blood simultaneously froze and caught fire when she saw him tumble and skid to a still stop at the back of the wall. She didn't even register the fact that Wynne was saying something to her, what it was didn't matter. Her attention wasn't on the old crone anymore, just the idle thought that Wynne should shut it and help Aedan.

Alistair yelled something, followed by a fresh smite that slapped the demon back a step, making it lose its balance and flail with powerful arms to regain it. The former Templar chose that moment to dig his sword into its chest, drag himself up on it by losing the shield, and burry his blade into where the demon's heart was more or less likely to be.

Talia's relief died in her throat when the demon merely snarled, uttered something that sounded like a hoarse laughter, and grabbed Alistair by the waist. When it seemed like eating the boy's head like a grape was a good idea, an arrow from the shadows buried itself into one of its eyes.

Another followed from the other side of the room, this one piercing the black scales on the hand holding Alistair in a tight grip. The demon growled, something that almost sounded like an attempt at speech, and discarded Alistair in much the same way as the giant at the lakeside road had with its passenger. Alistair's impact into the wall, some seven feet above ground, was announced with the sound of bones snapping and armor clattering and breaking.

This was not working. The demon was clear of opposing close-fighters now, and seemed to just swat aside whatever sort of barrier Cíada placed in its way as it trudged through the remains of its own former servants, headed straight for where Wynne was tending to Aedan.

Aedan. The demon, hurt as it visibly was, was going to eat him like a snack regardless of barriers or anything else put in its way. Wynne was already visibly exhausted, splitting her energy between Alistair and Aedan's injuries. Talia was shit at healing so she couldn't even help there. There was nothing she could do to help Wynne get the fighters back on their feet. Not with a demon that shrugged off the pelting arrows sent from both sides of the room.

But she could buy them time.

"HEY BUG-FACE!" she yelled, firing a blast of fire at its back. When the flames merely seemed to singe its skin, she repeated and repeated until she made the demon stop. Obviously, it was more annoyed than anything, and didn't even seem to feel more than a slight sting when she slapped a lightning bolt at its face; "YEAH! I'M TALKING TO YOU! YOU'RE FUCK-UGLY, YOU KNOW THAT!?"

For a moment, it seemed like the demon was torn between the easy snack, and getting rid of the pesky mage. In the end though, it was proven clear why it bore the name it did, and started off after Talia. Keeping an eye on where she was going, the Breton started jogging backwards, allthewhile everyone still standing would be flinging both insults, arrows and arcane fire at it; "COME ON, COCKSKULL! YOUR MOTHER WAS A HAMSTER! YOUR FATHER SMELLED OF ELDERBERRIES!"

She hadn't been prepared for the demon to lash out with magic of its own, though. A whip-like chain of lightning sprang from its meaty, scaly fist, and the tiles cracked and flew where the magical attack dragged across the floor. Talia tucked her staff to her chest and rolled, barely managing to get out of the way of one attack, before a second followed up to where she was headed.

The demon's laughter stilled somewhat when the lightning was soaked into the ward on Talia's staff. The blade almost sang and the staff vibrated with the raw amount of elemental magic sucked inside. Still, that was by no means a guarantee that she was in the clear, as the demon simply charged forward, seemingly having realized two things: A) its magic wasn't very effective on this pesky mage, for some reason, and B) mages wore fabric and meat, and were weak up close. As such, it spread out clawed hands and started a charge towards the redheaded Breton, who was glaring defiantly back at it.

Mainly because of two factors. A) Talia had to buy Wynne time to get Alistair and Aedan back on their feet, and B) Talia, being who she was, was anything but what the demon expected of mages.

As such, when it came at her, she did not run away, neither did she stand her ground. Instead, she slipped beneath it, dodged its trampling feet and came up on the demon's backside. There, even as the monster was in the middle of turning around, she charged her staff's blade with all the residual electricity it had sucked up from the demon's own attack, and buried it in the demon's exposed flank. Compared to the output of power in this strike, her own previous ones had been mere buzzes, like touching something that might give off a weak, electrical zap.

The demon roared, for the first time in true pain, and ripped the offending staff from its side. While Talia was idly glad that it simply discarded the weapon, not breaking it, she still had to run for her life as arrows whizzed about her, and the raging demon now hunted her with a vengeance. Her mind, while actively trying to plot a way to avoid her getting ripped apart, was also in the midst of a very profound conclusion;

"Piss! Piss! Piss! Piss! Piss! Piss! Piss! Piss! Piss! Piss! PIIIIIIS!" said conclusion was also voiced for all who cared to hear it, as she ran circles in the tower, not even having the notion of hauling the gagged and bound Irving behind her as a decoy. Mainly because it wouldn't have worked, of course; "Someone get your finger out your butthole bef-"

She was caught blindsided by the heavy fist, and sent tumbling across the stone floor. Each impact felt like the air trapped in her lungs tired crushing her innards and ribs, and upon finally coming to a stop, it was only with the most crude and unbalanced maneuvers that she managed to stop in a crouch. Then she vomited, just a little. She wiped the blood from her broken nose, and inhaled with all the energy she could afford. When she turned her eyes up to glare at the demon, she only just had the time for a final intake of air as its large fist came down and grabbed her.

She would have screamed, had it not been for the fact that she couldn't get the air in her lungs out through her mouth. She could feel something break in her chest, most likely quite a few ribs, and she could smell the putrid stench of corruption in its breath as it held her up close. The multitude of eyes glared at her, cold, calculating black beads akin to the ones you would find in rodents. Shit, shit, shit! I'm FUCKED!

There really was just one option left in this situation. It was a stupid one, it was dangerous, and most of all, very likely to do jack shit but scar her horribly for the last few seconds of her life. Still, it was all she had left, even as Daveth attempted to charge the demon with nothing but his own blades, and was slapped away like a pestering fly for all his troubles.

If there was one good thing she could think about Father, in this moment, it was his irritating insistence that his children all learned to harness the gifts they had been born with. When an arrow found its mark in another of the demon's bleeding eyes, she used the tiny slack of its grab on her for a single, focused exhale of air.

Air, that was exhaled with the temperature of a furnace, laced with magic from the bowels of her being. It came out not as spent oxygen, but as a thin stream of coning fire. Talia's vision grew blurry as the overpowering pain in her mouth threatened to make her lose consciousness, but she pressed on, desperate to spend every last vestige of oxygen from her system in the fiery stream that washed over the demon's face. With the pain overpowering her senses, she couldn't hear its screams of pain, a deep, baritone roar as she was dropped, and the demon clutched its face to make the fires go away.

The world seemed to sail by in slow motion, and vanished completely in the familiar sea of darkness when she hit the floor.

Sheogorath reads Fanfiction! Where is your God now!? Honestly though, you all expected to see either him or Vaermina here, didn't you? Personally too, I like changing what happened to Cullen. He's just the ultimate senior bro in Inquisition, and I just love him - as a character, not in the...never mind...Let's just say that I enjoy tweaking magic and the timeline here and there, such as the far more versatile ways of casting that mages from Tamriel possess over the mages from Thedas.

That, and Talia seems to have missed out on the chance to give Irving a bit of "accidental" friendly fire. Poop, but there's more to come.

Okay, we have plenty of material for post-action chat in the camp, so here I have another one for you guys if you by some small miracle have no idea what to write, if anything at all: Who would win in a straight fight? Savos Aren or Morrigan?

See ya :)