The men carefully step around the charred corpses of spiders and the remains of their past victims that were released from their bonds by the fire. Alistair winces as bones crunch under his boots.
They pick their way through the darkness, keeping an eye out for whatever else lurks within the shadows. Finally they find what looks to have once been a bedchamber with another set of bookshelves, rotting and covered with moss, and a large frame with tattered strips of fabric hanging from what must have once been the canopy.
Splashing through the ankle deep water, Alistair kneels before an old chest at the end of the bed. Holding the ember stone close, he touches the lock. "Looks like somebody tried to pick this." He says, eyeing the scratches. Setting the stone on top of the chest, Alistair unsheathes his sword. Using the pommel, he hits the lock a few times before it finally gives way and falls in the water.
"I thought you said the treaties were in a storage room?" Roderick asks as he comes to stand beside him. Jory holds his torch high as he keeps a look out for any more dangers.
"Duncan said they may be but I'm just covering my bases." Sheathing his sword, he takes the ember stone and carefully opens the chest. The books and papers were already destroyed, either by the water that had gotten in or with age He rifles around it, finding a couple large vials of thick red liquid which Alistair quickly stows away in his pack before returning to his search.
"What was that?" Roderick ask. "Did you find them?"
Alistair shakes his head. "No. Just some vials that Duncan would like to also see recovered." Finding little else of use, he shuts the chest and rises. "Let's find that storage room so we can start getting back. There should a be a door around here somewhere." He motions for the others to spread out. "Keep an eye out."
Each man takes their light source and spreads out to opposite sides of the room in search of any indication of the adjoining storage room. Touching walls and checking the ruined painting for hidden switches, Alistair's heart begins to sink. Standing back from where he was searching along the wall, he frowns. "This makes no sense." He mutters to himself. "The map showed a small storage room connected to this bedchamber." He turns to look at the other two. "Any luck?"
"Not here." Jory calls back.
"Nothing here either." Roderick replies, his eyes still scanning the area around him. "Are you sure there isn't another bedchamber it was referring to?"
"No." Alistair frowns. "Only the Chamberlain had a private chamber. Any visiting Wardens stayed in a dormitory on the other side of the Archive." Walking over toward a large series of bookshelves lining one of the walls, his eyes scan the book cases. His brows furrow.
"Wait…." He mutters, more to himself than the other two. "Why is this shelf still here?"
"What do you mean?" Roderick asks, coming to stand beside him. Roderick looks at the bookcase before them.
"Look." Alistair points to the shelf. "This shelf is holding up better than the others." He points next to it at the other shelves that have begun sagging from the books and starting to pull away from the wall. Roderick shrugs.
"Maybe this shelf is newer than the rest?" He suggests but the Warden ignores him.
Alistair moves his hand over the wood and along the side before smiling. "Aha."
Jory joins them as Alistair grunts as he slowly pulls the the bookcase out. The stone wall attached is heavy and it takes both Roderick and Alistair to pry it open enough to look in. Pocketing the emberstone, he takes a torch from Roderick and steps in, holding his torch high.
The room is fairly small but crates, chests and old furniture fill the small space, covered with cobwebs and dust from its time stowed away. Whether the water had already been inside or it rushed in when they opened the door, the floor had a couple inches of water as well. Alistair comes to kneel before one of the chests and brushes away some of the dust that had accumulated on the top. As the dust is cleared away, the men stare at the silver griffin crest that shines in the light of the torch.
"This must be it." Alistair mutters. Once more, he draws his sword and uses the pommel to break the rusted lock. Inside, papers and books that had since been destroyed liter the inside, almost the whole inside reeks with mildew and rot. Trying not to breath in the stench, Alistair quickly rifles around the contents before finally sitting back on his heels.
"I don't understand…." He mutters with disbelief. "They should be here!"
"Surely Duncan will be able to get the factions to join without them, right?" Roderick asks with a frown. "After all, a promise is a promise, regardless of how long ago it was made."
Alistair says nothing in response as he turns from the storage area. The men follow him back the way they came. Nearing the steps, they see a shadow reflected on the wall move and instantly draw their weapons.
"Darkspawn?" Jory asks. "More spiders maybe?"
Before Alistair can response, they see a thin woman, her fair complexion and piercing yellow eyes glowing in the light of the torch. She casually descends the stairs, apparently unfazed by the chill in her scant clothing. "Well, well. What have we here?" She purrs, her darkly painted lips turning up into a smirk. She comes to a halt before them. She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?"
The men step back, their swords held out before them. The woman seems uncaring of their defensive stance. "Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey." She cocks her head to the side as her yellow gaze falls on Alistair. "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or Intruder?"
"Neither." Rory answers beside him. "We are with the Wardens seeking to reclaim something that is ours. They used to own this tower."
Her eyes flick to him with an amused expression. "'Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse." She circles around them, chuckling as they shuffle around to ensure they keep her in sight. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'Why are they here?'" She stops. "And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that? What is it you seek?"
Alistair scowls from beside him. " Don't answer that. She looks Chasind, and that means others will be nearby." Alistair mutters, glancing about in the shadows.
"You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" The woman grins.
"Yes…" Alistair frowns. "swooping is bad."
"She looks like a witch." Jory hisses. "I've heard stories about the witches of the wilds. She may be one of them."
The woman chuckles. "Witch of the Wilds? Such ideal fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" She turns to Roderick. "You there, handsome lad. You don't seem to be frightened like a little boy as your companions do. Let us be civilized. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."
"Don't do it." Alistair hisses. The woman glares at him.
"Hush. I was speaking to your companion."
"Name's Gilmore. Roderick Gilmore." Roderick says, gripping his sword. "And you are?"
She gives a slight smile and nod. "Very good. You may call me Morrigan, if you wish."
"I'd rather not." Alistair,mutters.
Morrigan ignores him. "Shall I guess your purpose? Why the look on your faces and the lack of anything being carried, I'd guess what you seek is here no longer. Correct?"
"Here no longer?" Alistair sneers. "You stole them, didn't you? You're…. some kind of….sneaky….witch-thief!"
"How very eloquent!" She chuckles. "How does one steal from dead men exactly?"
"Quite easily, it seems." Alistair retorts. "Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them."
Morrigan scoffs. "I will not! Twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer, if you wish. I am not threatened."
Roderick's brows furrow as he glances at Alistair before turning back to her. "If it was not you, then who took them?"
"Twas my mother, in fact." Morrigan sighs.
"You have one?" Alistair sneers.
"Where is your mother? May we speak to her?" Roderick asks.
She thinks for a moment before smiling. "Hm… There is a sensible request. I like you."
"I'd be careful, Roderick. First its 'I like you…' " Alistair says, imitating Morrigan's silky voice. "but then zap , frog time. Our luck, she's turn us and then throw us in a pot for frog soup."
"If the pot's warmer than this damned forest and ruin, it'd be a nice change." Jory mutters.
Morrigan shrugs and turns toward the stairs once more, pausing to call over her shoulder. "Follow me then, if it pleases you."
"I don't like this." Jory mutters, sheathing his sword after the others as they start to follow her up the stairs.
"Neither do I." Alistair replies with a frown. "But what choice d we have?"
Following Morrigan out of the ruins of the archive, they head further into the Wilds. Passing through the dark and damp woods, they come out to a secluded area in the middle of a swamp where a stout cottage sits. An older woman with short cropped grey hair and roughspun clothes kneels beside a patch of what looks like weeds.
"Greetings, Mother. I bring before you three Grey Wardens who-" Morrigan begins. Her mother turns and smiles at the men before rising to greet them. She gives her daughter a dismissive wave. "I see them, girl." Her eyes narrow slightly as she looks them over. "Hmm. Less than I expected." She mutters.
"Are we supposed to believe that you were expecting us?" Alistair blurts out.
The woman smiles. "Something like."
"Our other man died, if that's the other you were expecting." Roderick adds.
The woman gives him a knowing smile. "I see." She turns to look at Alistair. "You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide… either way, one's a fool!" She lets out a laugh which puts Alistair on edge.
"Great. I see where the other one gets the talking in riddles." He mutters, meeting Morrigan's glare. Jory nudges him.
"If she is a witch, it's best not to make her mad." He whispers.
"There is a smart lad. Sadly, irrelevant in the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will." The woman says. She takes a step forward and the men back up. The woman snorts and looks at Alistair."So much is uncertain and yet… I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do!"
She turns from them and Alistair nudges Gilmore, smirking. "So, this is a dreaded witch of the Wilds? Somehow that's hard to believe."
The woman stops mid-stride and slowly swivels around with a laugh. "Witch of the Wilds? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit to it! Oh how she dances under the moon!" She mockingly laughs.
Morrigan roll eyes. "They did not come to hear your wild tales, Mother." She says pointedly. Amused that she succeeded in her efforts to embarrass her daughter, the woman nods with a grin.
"True, they came for their treaties, yes?"
Alistair's eyes widen. "How did you…?"
As Alistair tries to make sense of how she would know, she removes the aged documents from her apron pocket and holds them out. "And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."
"You..!" Alistair begins but stops, brows shooting up "Oh...You protected them?"
The woman looks almost offended. "And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!"
"What do you mean?" Roderick asks.
Once more, the woman grins with a shrug. "Either the threat is more than they realize. Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing!" She laughs, making Alistair sigh.
"Great. More riddles." He mutters.
"Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for." The woman says with a dismissive wave.
"Yes. Tis time for you to go, then." Morrigan says with a smirk. "Goodbye."
Her mother sniffs. "Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests!"
"Oh, very well." Morrigan sighs. "I will show you out of the woods. Follow me."
The sun is beginning to set when Morrigan finally leads them out of the darkened woods. She stops and motions outwards. "Here you are. Your camp should be nearby."
The men turn and see the smoke rising above the nearby treetops.
"Well, thank you… I guess." Alistair begrudgingly says, turning to face her. He finds that she has disappears and frowns. Clamping a gauntleted hand on either man's shoulder, he sighs. "Well… let's get back."