"Oh, Maker, now what?" Adrian spat, pushing through the crowd of his companions and seeing Alistair bickering with a Templar confined inside a barrier.

Then he saw the bodies. He made a momentary effort to count the ones he could – and gave up when he reached twenty, and began seeing more body parts than bodies. More of the corruption was spread across the walls and ceiling, the odd horrific squelching noise audible in the room.

That was the point Adrian threw up. Repeatedly. It was all getting too much, even for him, even for all he'd seen in his time—this was the worst. When nothing but bile was coming up, he dragged a sleeve across his mouth and stood, looking to the arguing warriors.

"Filthy blood mages," the Templar said, more to himself than Alistair. "Getting in my head! I will not break. I'd rather die."

"Nobody here is a blood mage-" Alistair sighed, only for Adrian to nudge him in the shoulder.

Sighing, Alistair stood aside, letting Adrian speak to the confined Templar.

"You're not going to die," Adrian said, trying his best to calm the frantic man.

"Silence!" The Templar stood, glaring at Adrian. "I'll not listen to anything you say. Now begone!"

"Watch your mouth," Adrian growled. "I'm not in the mood for this dicking about—now who put you in here? Uldred? The demons?"

"Still here?" the Templar said, confused. "But that's always worked before. I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them."

"Still pretty dense, are you, Cullen?" Adrian asked, finally recognizing the man through the blood, sweat, and crazed demeanor.

"Don't blame me for being cautious," Cullen said suspiciously, his head low. "The voices, the images, they've been so real." The Templar finally looked at him closely, clearly recognizing him, more wide-eyed than he'd been before. "Why have you returned to the tower?! How did you survive?"

"By not being cripplingly fucking incompetent, that's how." Adrian snarled, feeling himself before more and more short-fused with every erroneous question asked. "I'll be having words with your commanding officer after this. But first, I'm off to relive Uldred's head from his miserable shoulders."

"Good," the Templar agreed, looking up at Adrian from beneath lowered brows. "Kill Uldred. Kill them all for what they've done. They caged us like animals... looked for ways to break us. I'm the only one left..."

He'd heard hate from Templar's before regarding mages—it was practically in their job description. But this… he was hurt, wronged—and he wanted revenge.

"Can't say I agree with their methods, but it must've been a surprise when the slaves fought back," Adrian said. "What happened? Besides having the tables turned on you, I mean."

"They turned some into monsters, and there was nothing I could do."

Jade grunted. "Uldred will pay for what he's done."

Cullen sneered. "And to think I once thought we were too hard on you."

Adrian glared at him. "Take care what you say, man. I'm a mage, in case you've forgotten."

"Did a mage not start this? Isn't one of you to blame? Only mages have that much power at their fingertips. Only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whisperings of the demons."

"Really now? We're shooting pot shots, now, are we? Well then, wasn't it supposed you lot put in place for this exact situation?" Adrian shot back, now having entirely lost his patience. "Given free reign by the Chantry to do and say anything to avoid this catastrophe? Hurt us, kill us, abuse us, oppress us… All in an effort to avoid the very situation we find ourselves knee deep in right now. Because the ends always justified the means. Well look where we are—despite your best efforts… A madman reigns supreme in this tower, and all because you lot crumbled like dried-out crackers at the first sight of real power." The wrathful mage clenched his fists. "You're all nothing but a farce! An excuse for the Chantry to exert power on those it could not otherwise!"

"Adrian… even if you are correct… we have a mission, here. And is it truly worth your time to argue with a man whose mind may very well be broken already? What does that prove?" Wynne argued softly, talking Adrian town from his temper. Though Morrigan seemed to smile at his sudden outburst of anger with a mischievous and prideful grin.

Adrian let out a long sigh. "Where is Irving and Uldred?"

"They are in the Harrowing Chamber," Cullen replied. "The sounds coming out from there...oh, Maker."

"We must hurry," Wynne urged. "They are in grave danger; I am sure of it."

"You can't save them!" Cullen insisted. "You don't know what they've become!"

"And you do?" Morrigan challenged.

"They've been surrounded by...by blood mages whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts!" Jade looked around at the dozens of bodies around them and felt a surge of pity for the Templar. Then the man kept talking. "You have to end it now, before it's too late! To ensure this horror is ended, to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there! You cannot tell maleficarum by sight. Just one could influence the mind of a king, of a grand cleric!"

"Lucky for us all, you don't get to make that decision," Adrian said flatly, entirely ready to move along, downing a lyrium potion he picked up from the storerooms and coughing out a ragged breath. "I do. Now sit down and keep quiet." Jerking his head at the others, Adrian took the lead.

-YR-

It was easy to spot Uldred. He still looked human, more or less, but his eyes held a wide, unblinking madness that Adrian was moderately sure had not been there the last time he saw him. And he remembered that day well… It was only a few days before he and Jowan planned to make their escape. Vincent, the original creator of the plan, had invited Adrian and Jowan to partake of a few… concoctions of his making. After having been stationed for nearly a year in Orlais, Vincent Logue was older than the other two and had been privy to all sorts of peculiar and interesting substances—opium and the like—the nobles in particular always took a liking to what he cooked up for them. Once arriving at Vincent's requested location, one of the dusty, unused storage closets, the three boys began smoking up the closet quickly, all joking and laughing amongst one another in good fun. That was until someone complained of the smell emanating from the closet that now had a sizeable flow of smoke flowing from the crack under the door. Uldred, by chance, was requested to see to the matter, personally. Needless to say, Adrian and Jowan caught the brunt of the verbal assault from him, Vincent, since he was older, and by virtue of that, a modicum more respected, was merely reprimanded and sent on his way.

"Uldred, you bloody fool… What is this?!" Adrian piped loudly from behind the circle that was a healthy mix of both insane mage and possessed abomination.

"Ah, look what we have here," Uldred sing-songed. "I remember you. Azra's star pupil. Uldred didn't think much of you then, always saw you as a delinquent nuisance, and I rather think he was… quite spot-on, indeed."

"Yeah, always thought Uldred was a bit of a tosser, really," Adrian shot back. "And considering what I've seen here, you'll pardon me if I'm not terribly impressed with the new Uldred."

"I suppose one can't be loved universally," Uldred sighed. "I'm quite impressed you're still alive. Unfortunately, that must mean you killed my servants."

Adrian nodded, pursing his lips calmly, as if mocking the mortally dangerous scenario they were currently shoulder-deep in. "Barring the ones in this room? Yes, every single one. You have minions. And you've run out." The others were quietly spreading out behind him, weapons ready. "Speaking of—Did Beroul put you up to this? Because—well—he's gone, bucko."

"Is he? Well, I would think someone has got to assume the role, don't you? Wouldn't want the rabble running about unorderly, now, would we?" Uldred shrugged. "As for my servants… Well, they are probably better off dying in the service of their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence."

Adrian feigned amused laughter, "I don't think you quite got the joke…" He paused, if for nothing else than dramatic flair. "You're next, arseclown," Adrian snarled.

"Wait, wait, wait! Let's not be hasty. I'm trying to have a civilized conversation here."

Adrian glanced around the room, making careful note of the fact that Irving was still alive and by all appearances not possessed. So, he noted, were three other Senior Enchanters. All of them looked badly injured, but being bound was a good sign they remained un-possessed. "I'm not entirely unreasonable… But you have three seconds to live… and counting. Speak quickly."

"A mage is but the larval form of something greater. Your Chantry vilifies us, calls us abominations, when we have truly reached our full potential!"

"First, Uldred, you are such a sad sodding twit," Adrian said. " Second, even if you manage to kill us – which is not going to happen, in case you were wondering, I'm going to paint the fucking walls with you! And third, they're damn sure not my Chantry, just ask 'em yourself!"

Uldred sneered harshly at the mage at least thirty-years his younger. "What have you really come here for, boy?"

Adrian smiled a smile like no one had ever seen, one of pure, unadulterated glee, his eyes hooded by the shifting shadows of the room, given a sinister look, "I'm looking to make some mischief, squire. What did you expect?"

Just then, Adrian took his whip from his belt and readied for battle, his companions more than eager to see this finished.

-YR-

Song Choice: Welcome, Imlerith – Mikolai Stroinski

Morrigan had been readying a Mana Clash to cast as soon as the ranting enchanter had finished speaking, feeling more than ready to end the man where he stood with little resistance.

Uldred was faster. The possessed mage dropped a fireball on her, sending the witch flying back, her robes smoldering and her black hair crinkling and crisping under the heat. The witch coughed as she landed flat on her back and rolled onto her side, gasping as her throat ached. Shaking her head to clear the ringing in her ears.

Adrian spotted Uldred.

Rather, what he thought might have once been Uldred. Now, it was a Pride demon, in its full glory, not unlike the massive beast that had masqueraded as a mouse in Adrian's own Harrowing, so long ago… looking vaguely humanoid, the creature was larger than an ogre, horns working their way back from the top of its head and spiky protrusions erupting from its hide. Both arms bore wickedly curved spikes at the elbow, one side asymmetrically long. Far too many eyes glinted from the front of the beast's head, a grotesque, warped muzzle that bore no resemblance to a human face.

And it was staring at Adrian now, its teeth bared in what appeared to be a gleeful grin.

"Well… Shit." Adrian rasped, "Morrigan, hit the abominations!" The sharp bang of a Mana Clash rang out, and the abominations dropped to the floor of the Harrowing Chamber. His hands shaking, Adrian hit Uldred with a sharp lash of his whip, the serrations of which left a noticeable gash in the hide of the creature.

Uldred shrugged it off, and Adrian growled, pushing himself to his feet and pumping raw mana into the air around his body, feeling his magic surging from the lyrium he drank beforehand. Focusing, the Magician dropped a Mana Clash on Uldred. The abomination barely stumbled, and Adrian again snarled, and fished around in his satchel as fast as he could, pulling out a lyrium potion. Chugging it as he cast, Adrian released a torrent of lightning from his fingertips, using the potion's jumpstart to channel his limited knowledge of elemental magic.

The Pride demon barely seemed to care. And it was about to charge. The warriors were trying to get close, slashing and hacking where they could, but the demon's sweeping strikes kept them at bay. Leliana's arrows and the other mages' spells peppered its hide, but were doing little effective damage, and Leliana came to the conclusion that she had to be the one to act. She stepped lightly around, not daring to fire another arrow and earn the wrathful demon's ire further. She would need to cross around to his backside, there, with her twin blades, she might be able to land a strike to his inner thigh, and if demon makeup was anything close to humans—she knew it could be fatal. It was likely crazy, but Adrian was a sodding idiot, a loveable sodding idiot, but one that would get himself killed for nothing, all the same. It was all she had.

Then Leliana appeared through the chaos, her blades flashing in the flickering light, and cut deep with a graceful swipe into the soft inner-thigh of the massive monster. Leliana stabbed again into its knee and twisted her sword in the wound, demonic ichor spilling onto the floor of the Harrowing Chamber, and the beast bellowed in pain, twisting at the waist and using its spiked arm to knock her across the room. But with a narrow miss, he merely knocked the Priestess off-balance, as she folded to the floor. It grinned widely, knowing it had caught its prey, and there would surely be enough time to execute her before any help arrived to assist. She would be paste on the floor in a matter of seconds. The demon charged its fist with the power of electricity and raised its hand high, and Leliana flinched, sure it was the end. The demon's strike was narrowly stopped by Adrian's whip that had wrapped around its forearm.

The Pride demon simply began tugging its arm away, slowly, Adrian's last-ditch effort a minor inconvenience to it. Adrian screamed loudly, doing everything within his power and his will to resist the demon from finishing its attack. Despite his absolute best efforts, all of his will, rage, and pain condensed into one move the Pride demon was too strong for one man, and the others were charging in again. "I CAN'T HOLD HIM!" He said, looking to Leliana, his face reddened and quaking from the extreme effort. "GET BACK!" She shuffled quickly to her feet and returned to her proper position, satisfied with how she had wounded the creature, and even more so that she was alive to see it.

Adrian however, continued to struggle with the demon, trying his hardest to loosen the whip from its hold on it. But now, the demon seemed to enjoy this little game he'd started. "I admire your gall, boy. But everything has its consequences. And after we're done here, I'm going to skin you, roast you, salt you, and eat you. And I'm going to enjoy it." Just then, the demon once more charged his hand with the lightning as he had before, grabbing the whip that Adrian was still attempting to loosen from his grasp. With electric hands, Uldred grabbed the end of it and sent a charged shock rippling down the whip, and as soon as it touched Adrian, he screamed horribly as the lightning began to char his clothes and skin, all the way up to his left shoulder. The creature quickly unwrapped the whip from his forearm and threw what was left of its charred remains aside, only after backhanding the insolent Adrian away.

"Wynne!" Jade shouted. "Get him back on his feet!" She rushed him in anger, not thinking, the thought of a dead Adrian clouding her mind. But because of Leliana, the demon had noticeably slowed. She drove her sword deep into its thigh. The demon fell to one knee, looking to the cluster of bound mages in the corner.

Then Uldred's voice issued from the creature's mouth. "Do you accept the gift that I offer?" Lightning crackled around one of the bound mages.

"The Litany!" Wynne shouted, her staff turning back towards Uldred as Adrian stood unsteadily and weak, barely able to comprehend the madness around him. "Use it now!" A white burst of light erupted under Uldred, and the demon stopped moving – a paralyzing trap glyph from the Senior Enchanter.

Jade felt her lips moving, shouting the Litany even as she hit Uldred in the jaw as hard as she could with the rim of her shield, Alistair quickly following with a fierce slice to its upper back, completely severing its lateral muscles. The lightning around the mage vanished, and Jade breathed a bit easier, feeling she had just saved a life.

"Morrigan!" Adrian shouted mustering as much as he could into his voice. "Cast a Tempest, I know you know how!"

-YR-

Song Choice: For A Higher Cause – Adam Skorupa, Krzysztof Wierzynkiewicz

"Have you gone mad?" She cried. "We are too close!"

"Do it!" Adrian dug deep on his mana, going through the proscribed motions for one of his strongest spells. So, all in, yeah…? Damn it all, I rather wanted to survive this—oh well. He thought to himself. "Everybody get back!"

Wynne glanced over at him, her eyes widening in recognition. "Wait!"

Adrian kneeled down, putting his hands to the floor. Feeling the nature of the room in his body, and his mind. He strained for a bit, and nothing seemed to visibly happen to the other onlookers, including the others of his band. But they just didn't know where to look. All around, the loose stones and pieces of ruined material of the chamber that had been loosed or collapsed in the day's events, began floating. Adrian called all of these pieces to himself, mentally, and soon he was completely surrounded by rubble and ruin. "Now Morrigan!" He yelled, as she casted her Tempest on the demon, the fiery storm ripping away at its tough hide. The demon rose tired and weak from the heat, as Adrian lifted his arms in the air and threw the biggest of his boulders at Uldred's head, and the solid stone broke against it, but not without shattering the demon's facial carapace, exposing the gooey organs underneath, and completely taking off half of its head.

For his part, Adrian collapsed, the increased draw on his magic nearly knocking him out. Splayed across the floor of the Harrowing Chamber, his vision blurred, he felt as if he was right back at Redcliffe. I've got to stop doing shit like this. He thought, as Wynne came to his side.

"Is it...is it dead?" Leliana asked, nocking another arrow.

"I think so," Adrian coughed, still sprawled on the cold floor. "Any volunteers to go poke it with a stick, say 'I'."

Alistair huffed, striding forward with his sword, slamming it down and into what was left of the beast's mangled face. "Yep, dead."

"Good riddance," Jade spat, as she looked around the room. "Where's Irving?"

"Maker," the mage in question groaned, standing up. "I'm too old for this."

Adrian decided his time for pussing-about was over, he'd have more time to complain about the wounds when he was getting doctored, properly. Which would no doubt be happening later. He slowly rose with a few pained grunts and with the assistance of Leliana. Once correctly situated, he gave the man a stone-faced stare. "Tell me about it, old man. You all right?"

"I've..." Irving paused, wincing as various injuries protested. "I've been better. But I am thankful to be alive."

"Good, now then, might I ask, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Adrian shouted at the old man.

"Adrian!" Leliana exclaimed, shocked at his behavior, and contemplating weather to drop his injured body to collapse right back onto the floor.

"I-"

"You trusted Uldred – one man – to give you information on who was dabbling in blood magic? Don't try and lie to me I've seen the reports, Irving." He stared at Uldred's fallen corpse. "Why the fuck would anyone do that?" Adrian said, more to himself, at first. "Hmm? Would you do that?" He asked to one of the other Senior enchanters. Only to receive a shake of the head in return. "Oh, exactly. Maker this is getting—no, has already gotten-on my nerves." He looked ad Uldred's fallen corpse again after a short pause. "I wish I could fucking kill you twice!" But something quickly changed in Adrian's eyes, and they had lost their sarcasm, and were replaced with eyes of realization. "Maker… it was Uldred who tipped you on Jowan's blood magic, wasn't it?" Irving flinched, and Adrian growled, and turned his back, breaking his hold from Leliana.

It didn't take long for the party to find the survivors. Irving's voice was distinctive enough that the barricade was removed at his order, and almost thirty mages filed out, looking about warily. Blood spattered their robes, and to a man they looked hungry and exhausted, but they were alive. Only a third of them wore the robes of apprentices.

One of the senior enchanters stepped past Adrian with a sneer, looking to Irving. "Did you stop Uldred, First Enchanter?"

"No," Irving replied. "These noble souls did." The senior enchanter blanched, turning to apologize, but Adrian had already moved on from it.

"Anybody hurt?" Jade asked quietly.

"We're more than capable of healing our own, Warden," one of the other enchanters said.

"Show a little gratitude," Alistair broke in, stepping up behind her. "We happen to be the only reason you're still alive."

"Yes, alive for the Templars to kill us!" the enchanter shot back.

"Greagoir will stand down if Irving says the trouble is over," Wynne replied.

"How do you know? How can you be sure he won't kill all of us just to be safe?"

"I won't lie… it's occurred to me," Adrian said softly. "But with the forces he has left? I don't see it happening. The reinforcements are still at least a day away. Now come on."

-YR-

Jade came back through the corridor and embraced Gerard joyously, feeling like it had been a century since she had last seen him. The dog happily reciprocated, licking all over in mad, happy, freneticism. Sten regarded the group with a curt nod, and a few words on what had transpired—a few smaller demons wandered down, to which he and Gerard quickly dispatched… but no survivors ever appeared.

Adrian hammered on the door. "Oi! Open up, I've got the First Enchanter here!"

A Templar called back through the door, his voice nasally and muffled from his helmet, Greagoir no doubt pressing his ear against the door at that very moment. "Prove it!"

"Please open the door," Irving replied. "I need to speak with the Knight-Commander."

"Open the door," Greagoir could be heard to order. The crossbar slid back, and the two mages stepped forward, the rest of the party following them. The surviving mages slowly filtered out, fear evident on their faces.

"Alistair, Leliana, speak to the quartermaster," Jade ordered. "Sell anything of value we picked up, get us some supplies. I don't want to stay here a moment longer than we have to." Adrian was surprised at her firmness, even to Alistair, the man she was insistent on making puppy eyes at whenever she thought no one was looking. Perhaps what happened here today had made her a stronger leader? Only time would tell, he supposed. But he liked this change, just so long as she didn't become a raging, stickler hard-ass like Uldred was every second of every day.

Meanwhile, the Knight-Commander was addressing the First Enchanter. "Irving? Maker's breath, I did not expect to see you alive."

"Not surprising, what with you leaving him to the wolves." Adrian grumbled.

"Its done, Greagoir," Irving said. "Uldred is dead."

"Wait!" A voice called from deeper inside the tower. A Templar came sprinting out, and both Adrian and Morrigan groaned as they recognized the rushing templar as Cullen.

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" Adrian muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his hand.

"Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations," Cullen declared, shoving past Adrian. "We don't know how many of them have turned."

Irving blanched. "What? Don't be ridiculous!"

"Of course he'll say that!" Cullen cried. "He might be a blood mage! Don't you know what they did? I won't let this happen again!"

"You won't-" Adrian started, but Greagoir cut him off with a mere lift of his armored hand. The large man stepped forward, his face darkening and his presence shutting down the mage's protest.

"I am the Knight-Commander here, not you."

Adrian blinked in surprise, taken aback at the man's response even as he felt his hands shake. "Well, what does the Knight-Commander think, then?" He patronized.

"We have won back the tower," Greagoir replied. "I will accept Irving's reassurances that all is well."

"We?" Adrian's petty nature compelled him to mumble under his breath.

"But they may have demons within them, lying dormant, lying in wait!" Cullen protested.

"Enough!" Greagoir snapped. "I have already made my decision." Cullen grimaced, but stepped away as Greagoir turned to Adrian. "Thank you. You have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle, and the Templars."

"Don't thank me." Adrian returned harshly. "Somebody had to do your bloody job," he said bluntly. "Clearly, you weren't up to the task. You had a dozen trained Templars here, and you couldn't take on a force we annihilated in hours?" He opened his mouth to further lambast the man, but closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Never mind. You promised us aid. What now."

"With the Circle restored, my duty is to watch the mages," Greagoir said, giving Morrigan a sidelong glance. The witch glared at him, but said nothing. "They are free to help you, however. Speak to the First Enchanter about the details. Please, excuse me. And Irving...it is good to have you back."

"Ah, I'm sure we'll be at each other's throats again in no time," Irving said with a chuckle, turning to Adrian as Greagoir stepped away, speaking quietly with a few of the surviving Templars. "Here we are, the tower in disarray, the Circle nearly annihilated...though it could have been much, much worse. I am glad you arrived when you did. It's almost as though the Maker Himself sent you."

Adrian rolled his eyes, but paused and allowed the old man to have his fun. Besides, despite Irving's utter stupidity regarding Uldred, he'd always been fair to Adrian, even when many of the other students—and even some of the educators, weren't. "Glad I could help. But I came here seeking allies against the Blight."

"Ah, down to business, then? You always were a shrewd one. Well yes, I'd say the least we can do is help you against the darkspawn. I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight."

"There are so few mages left..." Adrian said looking around the room. "Can you spare them?"

Irving chuckled a bit and nodded. "You of all people should know that we are not to be underestimated. The mages you see here will be a great help to you. You have my word as first enchanter. The Circle will join the Grey Wardens in the fight."

"Good," Adrian nodded. "I imagine Jade will want us to resupply, and-" he paused as Wynne stepped forward. "Irving, I have a request. I seek leave to follow the Grey Wardens."

"Wynne, we need you here," Irving protested. "The Circle needs you."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Irving, but the Circle will do fine without me," Wynne said, waving off the objection. "The Circle has you." She gestured to Adrian. "This boy—man-is brave and good, and he is capable of great things. If these people will accept my help, I will help them accomplish their goals."

Adrian paused, considering the situation. "Well, this is a problem. You're definitely needed here, but we could certainly use another healer." He said glancing at his heinously scarred arm that would need to be treated within the hour. "I don't make the decisions around here, and thank the Maker for that. Go speak with Jade, I'm sure she'll accept."

"You were never one to stay in the tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere," Irving said fondly.

"Why stay when I can be of service elsewhere?" Wynne asked rhetorically.

Irving spoke directly to Wynne. "Then I give you leave to follow the Grey Warden, but know that you always have a place here." Looking to Adrian, he gave him a mournful nod, knowing Adrian would never be permitted to return, not that he'd want to, that is. "There is much to be done here, and I must go. You must forgive me for not being a proper host. When the time comes, we will stand beside you." The enchanter said, beginning to walk away. "Oh! And one more thing." He beckoned to Adrian. "I'm truly sorry about Azra, son, I know he meant a lot to you…" He paused, letting the heavy silence envelope the two as they both nodded in respect. "However, we have some things—that were, well they were addressed to you—should you ever return. By my honor, I would be remiss to not hand them over to you, given the chance. You were his star pupil, after all."

Adrian seemed quite confused, dumbfounded, actually. "The man never even told me he liked me, and now he decided to pony-up? Figures." He groaned to himself. "What sorts of things is he giving me?"

"I don't know. The box they are kept in is enchanted. Likely only something you could release—shadow magic." Irving revealed, and began to laugh. "You should have seen Greagoir when I told him, he ordered his men to open the box by any means necessary—those poor boys spent hours trying to get that chest open, even started making bets on who could do it. By the end, Greagoir simply had the thing stuffed as far back into Owain's storeroom as he could manage."

That actually seemed to lighten Adrian's eyes a bit as he genuinely chuckled for the first time since the nightmare began. "Well, then I'd best be on my way. "Until we meet again, old man."

"We're all supplied," Alistair reported to Jade. The warrior had a sack of coin at his belt and a box of supplies in his arms.

"Good, let's get out of this blasted place," Jade declared.

"Warden, wait," Greagoir said suddenly.

Adrian stopped, looking over his shoulder. "Yes? What is it, now, ya tosser, can't you see I'm trying to leave?"

"This woman," he replied, pointing at Morrigan. "She is a mage, is she not?"

Adrian could tell something bad was about to happen. It was just the way his luck was. And that was, flatter than a granny's tits, just lately. "What's your point?"

"She is an apostate, and cannot be allowed to leave," Greagoir declared.

Holy FUCKING SHIT, it's like the world hates me in particular! Shit, with my luck, if it was raining soup, I'd have a fork… right through my fucking eye! The Magician thought to himself, wanting nothing more than to scream at the world.

"You will not hold me in this prison," Morrigan spat. "I will not submit like these pet mages."

"Morrigan, please," Adrian said, feigning sweetness. "Allow me to handle this." He looked to Greagoir. "Knight-Commander, I just spent the better part of a day doing your job for you. I have killed demons of all kinds, abominations wearing the faces of people I counted as friends. I fought with more demons than you'll ever see, both in the Fade and here in our world. In the process, I consumed enough lyrium to supply the Circle for a month. I am tired. I am angry. And I don't give a damn what you think your duty is! You couldn't hold her even if you tried. And believe me, you don't want to try. That is, if she didn't kill the lot of you on her way out of the tower." Adrian paused, already exhausted, and the yelling was getting old. "So, I must ask you: What part of 'fuck over' do you want me to mime for you?"

"You cannot fight all of us," Greagoir hissed, rising to his threats.

Adrian opened his mouth to yell some more, before pausing and looking at him sadly. "Haven't you lost enough men for one day?" Greagoir's concern for his men seemed to be enough to momentarily overwhelm his training, and the man sagged. Adrian pressed on making sure the point stuck in his thick head. "You don't have the Templars left to police the mages you've got. Besides, as far as I'm aware, she's not under your purview, she's part of a Warden task force. Let it go, man."

"Go. But if she becomes an abomination, if she hurts someone...there is nowhere in Thedas you will be able to hide from Templar justice."

"Sure, pal." Adrian muttered under his breath before grabbing Morrigan by the shoulders and shuffling her out of the Tower, as her face seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl.

-YR—

Song Choice: Desperado – The Eagles

It was a while before things began to settle for the night. When people finally started rounding up their things and crawled into their tents. Jade was busy securing all the things Alistair had forgotten before. Sten was involved in a heated argument with a trader who had apparently sold off his old sword. Adrian spent nearly two hours being doctored, his most major wounds healed by Wynne but the direct burns from the Pride demon on his left arm would need to take their own course. She provided a soothing ointment and a fresh bandage to get him through the next few days, and reminded him that the bandage would need to be changed every three days and no more than that. He acknowledged tiredly and went to join Leliana on lookout duty for the night, even though she insisted she was perfectly capable without him, and that he needed his rest.

They talked on quietly for a couple of more hours, Adrian trading personal stories of his escapades before he decided to join the band, and Leliana telling old tales and stories back. Adrian, having recovered from the laugh he desperately tried to suppress, carried on with a new question, having spotted her Chant of Light that sat on the ground next to her spot on the log. "I have a question."

Sensing the change in tone, Leliana mirrored respectfully. "Alright, then, what is it?"

"Why do you believe in the Maker?"

A puzzled and vaguely offended look graced her face. "Because he is good, because I believe he stands with me in my darkest hour, because more than that, he gives hope to others when they have none, and because I am thankful for the world he created for us."

Adrian gave a frustrated chuckle in spite of himself. "And tell me: Just what about everything that just transpired in there was his good work?" She couldn't find an answer quick enough for his liking, and so he continued on. "And just what is so special about that damn book, anyway?"

She picked up the Chant of Light and held it, showing it to him as if he'd never seen it before. "This, is the Chant of Light. It is the word of the Maker. It is sacred."

Adrian sat, and picked up a stick poking it idly into the soft ground. "The edited word of the Maker." He mumbled, only just loud enough so that she could hear. "What would've stopped some wanker from just opening the reference tome and making some edits here and there without someone noticing—and just how many times had that happened?"

"The men who curate the Chant of Light are holy. Besides, I don't know what you think gives you the right to pass judgement on the Chantry. It's not for us to judge—" Leliana started.

Adrian shot up from his relaxed sitting position, all the emotions of the day ready to spill over the dam he'd so carefully prepared. It was the wrong conversation to start, he knew that, he knew it was his own damn fault for asking, but he didn't care. Nothing about what he'd just seen could ever be the work of a merciful god. A caring god. If this was the best an all-powerful being could do, he was unimpressed. "I'll judge! I'll judge whatever I sodding well want!"

Leliana was getting scared, Adrian was yelling now, and he didn't look cranky from lack of sleep. She saw a spark in his eyes that told her he had become unstable… dangerous. "Adrian…"

"That's all the pricks've left me!" He said, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

"Who-?" She asked in innocent, unthreatening ignorance.

"The pricks with the power!" He turned and threw the stick as hard as he could into the forest with his good arm, a clear knock resulting as soon as it clipped a tree in the darkness. And then he turned to her—his fury not extinguished. "I'll tell you what, Priestess. The next time you're talking to your Maker." He mocked, and she began to slowly move her hand to her belt. To her knife. "You tell him from me, right, you tell him, 'Adrian won't give in…'" He continued to lambast her as he inched ever closer to her face. His voice finally starting to shake. "You tell him that no matter how bad or sad it gets, how much it all falls to bits on me, how many holes there are in my worthless sodding life—"

He snatched the Chant right out of her hand like a viper, faster than she could react, and held it up in the very same way she had done to him only moments ago, tears floating slowly down his cheeks now, and his eyes more pained and furious than she had yet seen. "I'll never plug 'em with this bollocks!" he practically growled out, setting down the book harshly on the log and quickly turned away from Leliana, and she found that her fear had been replaced with only pity for him, and her own hurt.

With his back turned, he continued on, far calmer in tone and his voice restabilized. He took some long gulps from his flask and made a sound of acknowledgement while doing so. "I'm not good at this… giving orders and the like. I'm not a team-player. Never have been." He chuckled to himself. "I must've been off my bleedin' rocker to come here—join up with you lot. I've never done anything like it in my life, y'know? But there's Niall—gets the life sucked out've him, Lyle, having half his face ripped to shreds, and the rest… Maker, then fucking Greagoir bites my head off for it all, but what's new there, right?" He paused, letting himself go through all of his emotions. It happened to him, very rarely, but in the long run, they were often the most therapeutic moments for him, the release. Usually he'd find some lonely, pretty girl to fuck to keep himself at bay when he felt like this. But well… Morrigan was asleep and Leliana wasn't likely to even sneeze in his direction after this. "Everything's falling to bits in my hands and it's so easy to just see red when you're the one giving the orders and—" He stopped short. "Shit… I've just gone and become the very same bastards I've hated all my life." Adrian realized, the epiphany coming strong. And with it, came the theatrical madness that often accompanied these episodes. "Kill him! Chain him up! Shut them down! Piss all over him! Fuck you, I can do whatever I want! I so much as blink and your dead, pal! I'M IN CHARGE!"

Adrian huffed for a few actual seconds, catching his breath, before taking another long swig as Leliana sat speechless and shocked at this behavior. Looking to the pale moon, he spoke once more. "Excuse me, Leliana. I'm always like this when I don't get my very own way…"

-YR—

Song Choice: Estancia – Bill Elm & Woody Allen

The next few hours run together like a brownish sludge.

I walk back up to the Tower, and pass at least four-hundred trees on my way.

End up drinking at a place I vaguely remember as "The Spoiled Princess". What a name…

I walk in, and order a few heavy mugs for myself.

And on about the third, it occurred to me I had business that still needed attending to, and so I decided to multitask.

"I know you're in there… And I know you can hear me." I said to no one in particular, but the rattle in my satchel was all I needed in terms of an answer. "I've got an offer, Beroul." Still no answer, but another rattle gave me the equivalent of a silent nod of acknowledgement—as with any proposition, there was thinking to be done before terms were negotiated. I waited a good, long while before I heard the door to the bar open up behind me and two large fellows waltzed on in. Their armor, and the lack of any heraldry told me they were mercenary, but they didn't seem the friendly type. And of course, they decided to sit right next to me—and of course they ordered the worst ale they could've come up with. And then I heard it.

"I've thought on it." An ethereal, but recognizable voice responded.

"And? Come to any conclusions? Or are you pacing yourself?"

"Did that fucked-up individual just talk to me?" The first of the two mercs tested, letting me know he was more than ready to kick my ass.

"I think he did, Joric." The other added, goading his partner on.

"What could you possibly offer me, Amell?" The voice broke in again.

"Freedom." I responded flatly, making my offer as clear as it could be.

"In return for what?"

"There's a particular issue I need settled; one you could make a fair bit easier—grease the wheels a bit."

We continued discussing the nature of the plan, all the while, the two mercs becoming more and more agitated at my talking seemingly to no one.

"Hey, fuckhead, keep it down, or I'll rip it out." The man named Joric said, slapping me upside my head—hard.

"What will you offer me, if I side with you against your enemy?"

"Freedom not enough? Are we talking souls here? Do you want my soul?"

Joric then turned and grabbed the back of my neck and bent it backwards to look at him, and I was barely paying attention, for the moment, my mind was somewhere else, and the rapid change in motion didn't make my drunken dizziness any batter.

"Hah! Look at yourself, Amell. You borrow from one bastard to pay another. And with each transaction you lay down your soul for surety. What is there left of you, to buy or to sell at this point?"

"Fuck your soul, shitbird. It's your face I'm going to punch in!" Joric exclaimed, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and lifted his fist to the ready. And it occurred to me that I'd have to fight and talk.

I took two of my fingers and slid them hard into Joric's eyes, blinding him.

"You've got to offer me something better. Fresher. A little less soiled." Beroul continued, as I lifted my knee and delivered it to Joric's abdomen with a fantastic 'whump', resulting.

"Something that will keep its—value."

"You can separate souls from bodies. Can you bring them together again?" I asked, taking Joric by the head with my good arm and slamming his head into the bar until teeth began to fly.

"If that were within my powers—" The demon paused. "What then?"

Joric went weak and I let his unconscious body fall back an onto the inn floor. And as I looked down at him, I responded. "Then I think I might have something for you, squire. I think we could do business."