If you are not a fan of either Dragon Age or Gary Stu characters, leave now because that is what is going to happen.

I own nothing about this story nor do I make any money from it. I wish I could through my pat re on, but I know I'd lose the case Bioware and EA would bring against me.


To say I have had scary dreams and nightmares before, would be an understatement. I've had embarrassing ones as well as good dreams too, some of which I could still remember years after having them. At the very least, bits and pieces of them.

And yes, that does include being at school in my own underwear.

One of the most frightening dreams I can remember having was when I was in elementary school. And it had been about, ironically, my elementary school. For the most part, the school had been fairly normal. It was only when I had started to show up to where my classroom was, when things started to get scary. Try to picture a school with the laminated tile flooring, painted over cinder block walls and that stale smell that all public schools seem to have. Then you are about to cross an intersecting hallway that houses bathrooms and exits to the school itself.

That's the scene. But instead of the usual tile floor you walk on everyday, (at least for me at the time) it is instead a stone floor that has been cracked open enough to look through, and a hellish fiery glow is emanating out through the cracks.

That didn't scare me. If anything, I jumped from one side to another. When I looked back for the bathrooms, they were not there. Instead, it was the same cinder block that had been painted over in the school's colors. I wasn't scared then.

What did scare me was when this pale white creature started to, for lack of a better term, ooze out of the ceiling by the wall. This thing was neither a ghost nor see through. It had pale flesh, but it looked like this mass of flesh and limbs, and it made this gurgling sound that was just unsettling. It did not do a thing to me as it came down from the ceiling.

But I didn't stick around to find out. The last thing I can remember of that dream was bolting away down the hall, and that thing getting ready to chase me.

Soon enough, through the years, such dreams started to become unpleasant, and not scary. In time, I began to realize that the only thing a nightmare could do to me was scare me, no matter how many times a monster caught me or I was 'physically' hurt. The most prominent example was me crouching before a darkened hallway. I knew there was a monster in the dark and it would hurt me if I went into it, so instead I reached a hand in. The monster attacked, and my hand was shaking against my will, yet...

There was no pain.

My mind was telling me that my hand and arm were being viciously chewed on and torn apart, but there was no blood, no pain.

And then I pulled my arm out of the darkness and it was completely okay. That was when I started to realize that I had nothing to be afraid of in a dream.

Another unsettling dream that I can remember happened when I was in college. I was in a warzone. It was dark, I was covered in dirt, and I knew we were waiting for the enemy to come in close. What came next made very little sense to me. I think I was fighting, but at the end of it, I had this man, a boy, my age really, on the ground, my knife to his throat. We were both wearing army camo outfits, only his was light blue.

I remember my lips moving, no sound coming out of them, but I knew I was begging him to tell me something. To surrender probably. He made a reply, a negative one, even though he made no sound either. I remember my arm and hand moving, as I ended his life. Then I remember screaming. It was only years later that I would realize that I was dreaming of the war that was coming.

I can also remember the first time I ever lucidly dreamed, in my first life. The first time I ever realized I was dreaming, and that I could control it. It was not overly complicated. In fact, it was incredibly simple.

I was in highschool at the time, I dreamt I was in a room, alone, with no door or windows. The walls were stone and there were support beams holding up the ceiling. What drew my attention was the torches that had aligned along the four walls that made up my room. There had to have been at least three, maybe four on each wall. The second I realized I was dreaming was when I was turning around, observing the room. My gaze had stopped on one torch in particular, no different from any of the others save for the fact that it was in the center of the wall.

I raised my hand and snapped my fingers while looking at it. The flame snuffed out. I snapped my fingers again and it lit. I then whirled around and repeated the process with whatever torch I focused on. And then I tried to do it to all of them at once.

It didn't work. I was intrigued before I got an idea. I raised my hands, palms upwards and all of the flames became brighter and bigger. I lowered my hands with the palms down and the room darkened as the flames became smaller. I then proceeded to play with the torches like a child with a new toy.

After that, I began to experiment with my own dreams, and while I can't say that I was always aware that I was dreaming, I can say I was aware of the control I had most of the time. And in those times, when something was chasing me, when something caught me, I could change it, control it.

That's what it is like being in the Fade for me, now that I am here in Thedas. The naps that I have had since coming here have been eye-opening. I do not expect spirits and demons in my dreams, and most of the time it is pleasant. They act out a memory, and with me being fully aware, I can control it into something better.

Apparently, I am now possibly a Dreamer. Not just a mage, but a Dreamer, someone who can shape the Fade and affect the dreams of sleeping people, killing or driving them mad. I am unsure if I could turn into that, but I think it came from Solas since he technically is one, if my theory on imprints extended to my characters' companions. But anyway... yeah.

When that possibility came out, I started seeing a lot more spirits and demons. Some were curious about the places I would remember, others were more interested in possessing me. I kindly told those ones to go look for someone else. When they didn't, I waved a hand saying I really wished they would leave and then they were gone.

According to one spirit of learning I had simply shoved them through the door in my proverbial dream house (my mind) and slammed it closed. Eventually they would come back, accusing me of having thrown them into some other part of the Fade. When I told them that I had no intention of being possessed and if they could not accept that, they needed to leave. Most did, but some didn't.

Specifically a Pride, a Desire, and a Rage Demon.

When they tried to forcefully possess me-which by the way was painful, it felt like I had ice cold shards of glass trying to dig into my body-I remembered how Gaunter O'Dimm from the Witcher universe banished the spirit of Vlodimir Von Everec. I projected my will, my pain, unto them, and they crumpled to the ground screaming. Then the pain was gone for all of us.

"That's what the real world is like." I said, "It's got good things too, but you can experience those here in the Fade if you try. But they are all too fleeting. The next time you try to possess again, I will not stop hurting you."

They growled at me, and looked ready to attack, but then they froze, and I knew something was behind me.

"And I will do far worse than he will." A very familiar voice said behind me. I turned around fast, surprised and came face to face with someone I never would have expected.

Myself


John was stunned as he gazed into a literal reflection of himself, save for the fact that his other self was glowing, radiating light. Everything about this spirit looked exactly like John, and by John he meant his original self, not Harkin.

He'd almost completely forgotten what he looked like. His spirit self was a bit overweight, his belly was out. Had he really been that large?

"He is not yours... who are you?" The Pride demon snarled before spiralling off into confusion. Apparently, none of the spirits here recognized this one. Spirit-John, who was calmly radiating a rainbow of different lights seemed to darken, and his aura with him. What had once been serene, playful, bright colors, turned dark and angry.

"Such disgusting arrogance, Pride. You have no business with him unless it is at his leisure and you have overstepped your bounds. This is MY DOMAIN, and I declare that you and your compatriots are no longer welcome." Spirit-John made a wave of his hand and in a calm but loud voice he commanded, "BEGONE!"

The three troublesome demons were whisked away as easily as John had done to them, but this time he had a feeling they weren't coming back. His spirit double turned to other spirits who had been crowding around the area which had turned into the raw Fade. He apologized, but the festivities were over and that he needed to speak with John in private. With a few hand gestures and what looked like grabbing hold of something large and heavy, John found himself back, in his original home.

His original home, on Earth. A two story brick house on a field of over fifty acres. John was a country boy, a southerner by American standards, somewhere between blue blood and blue collar. The cool breeze and the smell of dead leaves told him it was Fall, his favorite season of the year. The straw they grew in the field was thick and yellow, the kind that they used to grow and sell to halloween rides. His family had done farmwork off and on, but it was little more than a way for some extra money. Nothing incredibly difficult as livestock or ranching as other hard-working people did. Crops was the furthest his family ever went, with him learning to drive a tractor before driving a car.

The two Johns were standing on the roof of his old house, the one that he'd been raised in for the majority of his young life. Before everything fell apart.

He was home at his most favorite time. The very image was enough to make him shed a tear.

"I thought this place would be nice to talk in. Do not worry, no one will intrude, I promise." His other self said, voice kind. John swiped the lone tear that was falling down his cheek.

"I never thought I'd see this place again. Not even in my dreams."

"I know." The two were not looking at each other, instead just gazing out at the image.

"So who are you, really? I know that you're enabling me to be a spirit healer, and possibly preventing me from becoming too fatigued or hungry. But beyond that..." John asked after a moment of silence.

"I'm you. Though I don't understand why you're not eating." His other replied.

"How is that possible?" John doubted it, but he would listen to this spirit's words. He deserved that much after showing John this.

"I'm unsure." At John's look, the spirit continued, "I only have theories, but I think when you-I-we awoke when Harkin died, something happened."

"Like?" John asked skeptically with his arms crossed.

"The Veil. And our death." His spirit self replied, "Out of all of the worlds we've seen so far, only this world has a Veil like this. Artificial, not natural. Imperfect. And I think that when we awoke, the Veil here, for lack of better term, sundered our soul and split us in two."

"Other worlds that 'we' have been in have veils between the mortal realm and the afterlife. Veils that become weak and things slip through. The ones 'we' have been to never did that."

"True," his spirit self nodded, "But this is the first incarnation that died to awaken us. And if you remember correctly, the souls of dead pass through the Fade. Which Justice confirmed. So if that is indeed what happened, Harkin's soul, our soul, was going through the natural motions of this world. Then when we awoke, we proceeded to make it go in reverse. Chances are, the Veil could have registered us as a spirit attempting to possess a dead body instead of a person coming back from death."

John had to concede to that. He had no idea what would happen in this situation since it was the first time he had to die to awaken.

"Say I agree with this explanation. Can I assume that since we are two halves of the same soul, that you bonded to me as a spirit bonds to a mage without both being twisted?"

"I would say yes given what happened tonight." It was very strange for John to have his own self waggle his eyebrows over the subject, "I could feel your emotions pouring through me, and to make matters worse I ended up pouring them back."

"Wait... was that why I felt it so strongly?" John had thought his reaction was a bit strange but he hadn't paid it any heed since he had Susan in front of him at the time.

"Yes, to be blunt, I believe I have been sustaining you since I am a strong spirit, at least compared to the ones I've met so far. You being a Dreamer-and yes you are one, I have seen other mages here in the Fade, and none of them feel like you, save for Feynriel who I personally checked-anyway, being a Dreamer means that you are more sensitive to things like spirits. By using mana, your body requires less sustenance or even sleep. However, the one thing you could still crave that I couldn't provide was..."

"Sex. But shouldn't you be specialized in one aspect of humanity, like compassion, or desire? If you were desire you should have been able fill that void in along with hunger and thirst, or maybe amplify them." John asked with a quizzical eyebrow.

"Yeah, I thought so too," the spirit nodded with his affirmation, "but apparently I'm not. Given the conversations I've had with other spirits, I can understand complex emotions that most can't, things that they twist into something almost like it. Desire and Love could be twisted into each other, but they are not the same thing. The same is true for Hope and Despair. Generally, a spirit will seize upon a single facet of a human experience, and embody it-make it their identity. Since I am technically you, a person who understands these facets, I am not beholden to this rule. I don't think I embody one thing..."

"You might embody multiple things." John finished, picking up where the spirit left off, "A human spirit, the human spirit, who has experienced multiple instances of virtue and vice, and remembers them, has grown from them. And since you virtually embody multiple aspects, you could draw from multiple sources. You might even be able to match Nightmare, the Fear Demon from Inquisition."

"Virtually," His spirit self emphasized, "I'd rather not find out until absolutely necessary."

"Fair enough, so any idea on what to do?"

"You still intend to go to Duncan, right?" His spirit self asked with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk.

"Yes." He replied slowly, still annoyed by his own decision to help.

"I know at least most of the people who are going to be possibly recruited by him within the next year." The spirit's voice was filled with pride in itself.

"So you know the Origins then? Who they are? They're names and genders?" John asked with surprise.

"Well, not all of them." The human spirit replied sheepishly, "I can't see the dwarves, since... you know... they don't dream. But I did find Hawke if that is any consolation."

"Well, it's more than what I had earlier. Tell me who they are so we can get started."

"Let's start from the Circle and move our way around Ferelden until we get to Lothering."

"Alright, I'm listening."

"Okay, at Kinloch Hold, we have both the male human mage, Daylen Amell, and the female elven mage, Neria Surana."

"Really?" John asked in surprise. He had been hoping for one, not really expecting both of them to be alive there. He supposed if the Warden had been any of the other origins, one would have died during the events of the Broken Circle while the other got shipped off to Aeonar with Lily, and likely would have died there by the time the mage-templar war erupted.

"Yes, Daylen looks similar to his cousin Carver, though considerably less muscular, especially in the arms. They almost look like sticks. And worse, he has that annoying Mystical voice set from the game." The image that popped into the Fade with his spirit's presentation showed a clean shaven young man who did bear a resemblance to Carver Hawke, though he was considerably skinnier. He didn't appear to have ever picked anything larger than a heavy tome. They both did have brown hair, as well as the same blue eyes that John had noticed Leandra and Gamlen had, something he believed belonged to the Amell family. "Daylen is also Irving's apprentice, and focuses on the Arcane-Spirit School as well as the Primal School. He does seem to express an interest in Battle Magic, and even of being a Knight-Enchanter, though nothing beyond an interest."

"Battle magic would fit him better than Knight-Enchanter if he focuses on the Primal School. However given that he may go to war, choosing battle magic could be considered overspecializing. It might be best for him to learn the ways of Knight-Enchanter or possibly even the Arcane Warrior, to build himself up." John replied thinking about the possibilities. For an instant, he thought about calling attention to the fact that when he started the mage origin he only had a few spells while Daylen here appeared to have several more under his belt already. He killed that thought as he suspected this was a case of reality vs gaming.

"Then there is Neria, if you are wondering about her voice, it's the wise one from the game." The image was replaced by a young elven woman who looked so short and skinny that John thought he'd snap her in half if he gave her a strong hug. She had silver eyes and dark brown hair that was tied in a short braid which revealed her pointed ears. She looked young too, like a teenager.

"How old is she? That's what I'm wondering. Is she fifteen, sixteen?"

"Nineteen, almost twenty, believe it or not." His spirit's reply shocked him, "Elves do look younger here, but she is roughly the same age as Daylen and they both share the same focus in the arcane-spirit school. Though where Daylen leans more to the telekinesis and necromancy side of things, she leans more towards mana alteration and anti-magic. Another subject they differ on is that Wynne is her mentor and that she largely focused on the Creation School though she has dabbled in the Entropy School. Unlike Daylen, she has yet to express an interest in a specialized magic."

"So we have one mage who is aiming for offensive magic while the other goes more toward defensive while relying on hexes."

"They would be a formidable pair on the fair if they worked together." His spirit thought aloud.

"Yes, if the enemy never managed to reach them." John replied sardonically. Experience told him that relying solely on magic in combat did not make one impossible to defeat. Even a powerful mage would lose if they were struck by a weapon mid-cast, unless they could hold their concentration. Some could, but that only required that the next attack be much more painful and/or disabling. "Who else is there?"

"Over in Highever, we have Aedan Cousland, second son of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland." The image of Neria was replaced by another young man who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was taller than Daylen, and more well built. A warrior perhaps? Aedan Cousland had blue-green eyes with light brown hair, a very short, well trimmed beard which was a chin strap with a moustache. "He's got the wise pre-set voice, which I remember was your favorite for most of your male characters. He's a bit of a cross between a warrior and rogue, but he leans more toward warrior."

"How do you mean a bit of a cross?"

"I mean in terms of the skills from Origins, Aedan is an experienced combatant, not a novice. He knows how to survive in the wilderness and knows what to use when making poison. Not to mention he's very persuasive when he wants to be. The most Daylen and Neria have is excellent medical knowledge and tactics. While in combat, he can use two weapons but prefers a weapon and shield."

"So he's got the skills a rogue would be inclined to have, but has the talents of a warrior. He might even be a champion or a defender."

"It's not impossible."

"Okay, who else?" The image changed to an elven woman with three braids in her red hair, he guessed, "Kallian Tabris?"

"Yep, and she is a total rogue with the cockiness to go along with it." John noticed that unlike the previous three, whose skin was pale and fair, hers was slightly tanned probably due to life in the alienage or she inherited it from her mother if the events of Leliana's Song were true. She had to have seen a lot more sun in her day-to-day than the mages at least. Her eyes were emerald green, he noted, as his spirit self continued, "She's had to steal to survive at times, and she's deadly enough with knives, not to mention she's got a silver-tongue like Aedan. She also knows how to make simple poisons to kill rats and the like."

"Hm, any hints of specializing in something?"

"Nothing so far, she may have the potential to be an assassin, possibly a shadow since she can sneak around pretty well."

"That's something. Next is Mahariel?"

"Theron Mahariel, an experienced hunter," the image changed to a slightly tanned elven man with black hair tied into a single braid that reached just between his shoulders. John immediately took note of the elf's vallaslin, which was a complex tattoo devoted to Andruil if he was right. Great, Theron was devoted to the elven goddess who loved to hunt titans and even her own followers.

"Abilities and skills?"

"He's a hunter and warrior. Theron prefers the bow and arrow over any melee weapon, but he is capable of wielding at least one when needed. He has some knowledge of herbs and poisons due to living on the land and has some skill when it comes to survival."

"So, if I understood you correctly, all of the potential wardens-at least the ones you've been able to see-have some combat training in addition to some other skills? And each of them have the various voice sets from Origins?"

"Essentially, yes, however there's no telling if their personalities match the voice. Aedan, for example, may have the wise voice, but could have any of the other personalities like a suave one, or what he thinks is suave."

"I see." His spirit self looked hesitant now, "Is there something else?"

"Yes, there is something else. I found Hawke."

"Really now? Why hesitate, this is good news! Is Hawke a he or she? Mage or non-mage? Are they Waffles, Chuckles, or Killer?" John rapidly asked, excited.

"Hold on." Spirit counseled gently, before the image of Theron changed to a more familiar face with black hair, brown eyes, and a moderately short beard, "Allow me to introduce Garrett Hawke, first born son of Malcolm Hawke and Leandra Amell. He's... different from the games."

"Different how?" John asked, studying Hawke. Garrett Hawke, he reminded himself. He looked just as he did in the game, all that was missing was the mark across his nose.

"He's a mage, but he chose to be a rogue." John stopped short at that answer, not having expected that.

"Come again?"

"You heard me. He's a mage that chose to be a rogue. Apparently, he learned enough to properly hide his abilities before training with his father and Carver. He uses magic to augment his abilities like Haste and Heroic Aura, or to elementally enhance his weapons, and he loves to sneak around and pick locks. Other than that, I think he might be Chuckles, but I'm not too sure." John was surprised. He'd never dreamed of Hawke embracing a different role if he were born a mage. Perhaps it had been an effort to connect to Carver? Or to further hide his abilities?

John idly wondered, if he did not interfere-which was likely given that he would be helping fight against the Blight-which of Hawke's siblings would die? Carver for his brother choosing to be a rogue, or Bethany for her brother being born a mage? Perhaps a multitalented Hawke would be able to save both of them without John's help? Or maybe it would instead be Leandra who would die to the ogre? Those possibilities existed too.

That line of thought brought up another question: What the hell would happen to him during the trip south to Ostagar?

John would find himself continuing this line of thought a couple of days later as he traveled toward Denerim.

Assuming Duncan believed him, and he got at least one person recruited, logic dictated that Duncan would pass by or even through Lothering on his way to Ostagar. The question was what would John do? Would continue on with Duncan and the Wardens, or would he stay in Lothering waiting for what might be the inevitable? John had to remind himself at times that the possibilities were not limited to just the choices in the game, but fanfictions as well, which were numerous.

And there were at least two possibilities of a victory at Ostagar, and at least a few others of Duncan and Cailan surviving. However, just because there were possibilities of victory did not guarantee it, especially with so few of them. Most of everything is already set to go by the time Ostagar happens with Cailan already thinking of setting Anora, Loghain's daughter, aside for Empress Celene. That alone would piss off Loghain who is so pro-patriotic and conservative that he borders on paranoia far too much. Then there was the confirmation that Loghain knew that Eamon was egging Cailan on to do so. Combine that with the possibility of that snake Howe whispering about the Couslands, the most powerful and well loved family after the Theirins, working with Orlais, and you get a political powder keg ready to explode.

All it needs is a spark and a man mad enough to light it.

Then there was also the fact that even if they get an army to Ostagar they won't have the numbers to fully face the darkspawn horde. There was a reason for the talk of approaching Orlais for aid. Even Cailan, sheltered though he was, realized how bad the fight was going to be. Maybe not to the extent it would because few if any expected Loghain to pull out as he did, but Cailan was at least smart enough to realize that it was going to be extremely difficult. That was why he sent Alistair to the Tower of Ishal.

He considered getting the Grey Warden treaties in advance. Having the elves, mages, and dwarves backing the human army would certainly be a boon, but John shook his head as he remembered that the army the warden would rally was bigger than the one at Ostagar and yet they were still outnumbered three to one. Granted, the Battle of Ostagar was deliberately left ambiguous, as were the numbers of troops on both sides. However, John was absolutely certain the darkspawn had far more numbers in that battle than the Fereldan army.

By the time the Warden had lit the beacon the signal had most likely been used, so the beacon was late. Despite that, the darkspawn had still been coming out of the wilds! Even if Loghain would charge, victory was very unlikely. John then thought over the battle itself. The strategy was a classic hammer and anvil tactic. That being said, they had little support. Origins may not have put much in the frame of details, but having so few archers and ballistae along the tops of the fortress did little to no help.

He tried thinking of what would happen if they had gotten all the forces they could with the treaties, and with Loghain not sabotaging their planning or Cailan messing it up with aspirations of glory for that matter. Dalish bows would be excellent as long-range support along with magical support, if the done Chantry would butt out. Maybe some uses of Creation magic to enhance soldiers, some offensive spells or hexes to cull the horde, even a few grease traps set on fire and taking out dozens of darkspawn would be an improvement. Experienced dwarven fighters would certainly last longer than humans who haven't seen a darkspawn. Maybe they could win the battle that way, but... wait that would still leave their forces depleted! The Archdemon is smart. Urthemiel would not show himself unless he was sure he could not lose. He'd have the horde erode the army's strength, and if by some miracle they did win, the darkspawn would simply replenish their numbers within a matter of weeks. While they did that, the army that they would amass would be utterly spent.

And that was if they managed to amass that army. Loghain's actions and Cailan's gave rise to many of the problems during the Fifth Blight, but King Endrin's death and Bhelen's machinations led to the situation in Orzammar, so there was no preventing that unless John found a secret entrance into not only the dwarven kingdom, but the royal palace and either exposed Bhelen or just outright killed him. Neither of which was preferable since that could still trigger some type of trouble in Orzammar, treaties or not.

Then there were the Dalish. Zathrian's curse had been in full swing for centuries at this point, and he doubted they'd be able to find another clan that would follow the treaties in time. Sure they could probably sway Clan Sabrae, but from what he'd seen they were a small clan. Word would not get out as fast as it would from Zathrian's clan which was noticeably bigger even in Origins. And he did not wish to even think about the racial divide between elves and humans!

There was no thought of stopping Loghain because at this point in time he is the King's father-in-law, one of the only two Teyrns of Ferelden, and a hero of the nation. The second John tried something, he'd be caught, and he would be lucky if he were executed quickly.

His thoughts turned to Loghain's only 'ally,' Rendon Howe. John could probably get away with killing Howe. Vigil's Keep, beautiful as it was, was hardly secure. The walls of the keep were made up of slate, but not unscalable. With his knowledge of locks, and as soon as he had the right tools, no door would stay closed for him. Hardly anyone would miss the man, save for... Bryce Cousland and Nathaniel Howe.

Shit.

That might complicate things further down the line. If it ever got out that he had killed Rendon Howe, even if he had built up a reputation for prophecy, he would lose a powerful ally, maybe even have them turn against him.

He tried that before in other worlds and he found that working against pre-ordained events, 'the plan,' 'the script,' whatever it was called, often made few things better and more things messier. Just as he had started to realize with these events.

John continued to think over how he could manipulate things into something more favorable over the next few days as he trudged to Denerim.

But in the end, he couldn't and instead he kept coming to the same conclusion: It would hardly matter who he killed if he couldn't reach them, or if it caused trouble among his allies. It didn't matter if he prepared enough to get the forces if people weren't willing to work together in the first place. It didn't matter if they picked a different, more fortified location. Either way, the outcome would be the same: defeat or a pyrrhic victory.

So if he couldn't win by working against the Grand Scheme of Things then perhaps he had to work with them. John will have to allow Loghain's, Howe's, and Bhelen's plans to play out. To allow Rendon Howe's betrayal of Teyrn Cousland and the deaths it would cause. To allow the Arl of Redcliffe to be poisoned, his loving son to become an abomination and kill his own people. To allow the Dwarven King's children to destroy each other. All in the name of the greater good.

God, did he hate the greater good sometimes.


Denerim was both similar yet different to how the game portrayed it. John had only seen small parts of the city: the gates, the Marketplace, a few back alleys and streets, the inside of the Pearl, and the inside of several other places too.

The gates had looked remarkably better than they had in the game. The same basic structure was there, though without the battlefield fortifications like the cheveux de frise and wooden stake fortifications. The walls were bigger, yet at the same time more compact. For instance the walls were taller and thicker, but the stairs were less wide and not so large. It also helped that they weren't on fire or destroyed.

Another thing that John noted, that he hadn't before, was that the first area he entered through the gates, the area that would become where the Warden said their final goodbyes to their companions, was a killing field. The wide open range of space between the first gate and the next was enough to hold a small army. He made his way to the market district.

It was massive in comparison to the small area in the game. The entire market area was as large as an outdoor flea market with rows of stands and stalls filled with peddlers and their goods. John had noticed that most stalls sold various foods, finery, antiques, or jewelry. It was also incredibly loud. He could not go a few strides without hearing someone yelling over the dull roar of the dozens upon dozens of people scattered around the marketplace.

He idly noted the Gnawed Noble Tavern and figured that would be the best place to start looking for the Grey Warden base. He had a plan b, but he'd rather not earn their ire by messing with their vault at the nearby warehouse.

A few moments later, and a few silvers shorter, John was on his way to the Grey Warden compound. It was apparently near the royal palace, a gift from King Maric supposedly. John would not be surprised if it was given Maric's relationship with the Wardens, especially Fiona and Duncan. After about an hour of winding alleys, being misdirected by would-be thieves and murderers, all of which are now wishing they hadn't tried anything with John, he eventually found the compound. It was little more than a small estate, but it had the heraldry of a silver griffin on a field of blue on its banners declaring it to be the base of the Order.

He stepped up to the door, left hand gripping the blade at his waist, his right raised to knock on the door, and he froze. A last minute hesitation running through him.

This will be the last time he'll have the option to walk away for a while. The second he knocked on this door he was committed to ending the Fifth Blight. The traveler knew he always had the option of leaving later on in the journey, just like several of the Warden's companions.

It would not be hard. All he'd need to do was leave in the dead of night, but when would that be best? Before Ostagar? After Redcliffe? The Tower? Perhaps after Orzammar? Or maybe he should pull a Morrigan and leave right before the final battle?

However Fate, or the Almighty, as John liked to think of them, seemed to be insistent on him helping this time as the door suddenly opened. And just like that, John's last opportunity to leave vanished. For right in front of him was the one person he had come to see.

Duncan looked similar to the figure he'd made in the game. Tanned, almost darkened skin which was a given since he was of Riviani descent as well as some Tevinter from his father. He was also bearded and muscular with his dark hair graying at the temples. Duncan's armor, however, is what drew John's attention the most. It wasn't the unique armor that he wore in Origins. Instead, it was the traditional silverite and blue armor of the Grey Wardens, specifically a mix of their warrior and scout armors. The upper part of Duncan's body was well protected by silverite plate that covered his shoulders and neck all the way to his forearms and hands. Below the neck, Duncan's chest was covered by another plate of silverite, this one with the sigil of the Commander of the Grey, two griffons with their wings proudly spread on each side, emblazoned on it. Underneath the armor plating, John spotted a suit of scale armor peaking out, going down past the man's waist, which had a thick leather strap which served as belt, holding a pouch as well as two plates, one for each side of the man's waist. The only protection Duncan had any lower were plates that covered his boots, shins, and knees.

If the armor was not enough, the two swords on Duncan's back drove home as to what kind of fighter Duncan was to John.

Heavily armored for war up top, but lightly armored at the bottom indicated that the man in front of him was a tactical fighter relying on his agility and cunning more than his strength or endurance. Not only did he rely on speed, but Duncan could take a hit when necessary.

An accomplished rogue, maybe even a shadow, if John's knowledge was accurate, and a dual-weapon master too if he had to guess.

"Is there something I can help you with, friend?" Oh even his voice was the same too. That was nice!

"Possibly, Warden-Commander. But it may be more accurate to say that there is something I can help you with. It's about the Architect." Duncan's brown eyes narrowed, turning hard as stone, "If we could speak in private?" John asked, gesturing inside.


The man who would find the Hero of Ferelden had allowed me entry to the Grey Wardens' base and took me to a private room. I told him the truth, at least some of it.

My name is John and that was the only name I cared to go by.

I was something of a Seer and I could not control it. I did not see the future, but I saw possible futures in addition to possible pasts, but I never see one where I am in it. I proved this by asking if he had recruited Alistair, Fiona's son, yet. Duncan, who'd been surprised by the question, hadn't yet, but he had found out where Alistair was and intended to go see him. When I asked if it was at Bournshire, he froze in shock before standing from his chair and demanding how much I know.

I responded by saying that I knew a lot yet not enough. When he questioned that I explained that the things that I see are not bound by time, that they come with gaps in between with little cohesion which made it difficult to put them in order. After we got that out of the way, I told him that there will be a tourney and that Alistair will compete in it and lose to several knights and templars like Ser Eryhn who could use a sword and shield with effortless grace, a Ser Talrew who apparently lead multiple victories against the chasind, and a Ser Kalvin supposedly one of the finest blades in the country though I did not know them beyond what they've done. When Duncan stated that those names were pretty famous in the country I merely shrugged, saying that I only knew them because Alistair lost to them.

Duncan eventually lost his patience and asked how Alistair had anything to do with the Architect.

"Nothing." I said, "This is only to confirm that I'm not lying to you about my abilities." I cut him off, finger raised, before he could say anything else, "But what does involve the Architect is the coming Blight, here in Ferelden." That brought the Grey Warden up short. I explained that I did not know where the Architect was, otherwise I would tell him, but I did know that the Architect was attempting to free the darkspawn from the call of the Old Gods by using a ritual similar to the Joining. I made sure to tell him that I only had some knowledge of the Joining: how it came to be, what is involved, what it does, but nothing more than that. I informed him that the Architect will try the Joining on the Old God Urthemiel, but it will inadvertently corrupt him into an Archdemon and begin the Fifth Blight which will start in Korcari Wilds down south.

Well, you can see where this went.

When Duncan said that he would have me join the Wardens, I asked him if he really wanted to take that risk given the danger I would be in.

He replied that I had to have seen this coming, to which I stated that I never see myself in visions, but it did occur to me on my way here. He stated that I came anyway. to which I acknowledged with a nod. He told me that I should probably write down what I saw in my visions in the event that I did die in the Joining. I told him that I saw too much. More than enough to fill a library and that we didn't have that kind of time since the Blight would happen six months after he was supposed to recruit Alistair.

That made him hesitate before asking if we really had so little time. I simply nodded. Duncan was quiet for a few long minutes before asking how the Blight would end. I didn't answer at first, but I chose not to lie. I told him at worst the Blight is victorious, and at best, one of his recruits would defeat the Archdemon within the year in which it starts, but either way Ferelden will be devastated and most of the Wardens in the country would be dead, including him.

Duncan, who had been standing up all of this time sat back down, face ashen and grim. We sat in silence for a long time before he said that we will commence with Joining. If what I said was true, he would ensure that the right people will know what to do, if I didn't make it. I sighed heavily in disappointment. I was almost positive that I would survive the Joining with what I am now, but that didn't mean I wanted to be a grey warden.

"Very well." I said as I got up from my chair with Duncan doing the same.

He nodded, eyes filled with resolve before we left the room.

A little while later we along with the rest of the wardens who numbered to just over a dozen. The only order I can recall ever seeing with fewer numbers had to have been the Witchers of Kaer Morhen. Jeez no wonder there were no survivors from Ostagar. I was oddly reminded of the scene from Awakening whenever I had a new recruit in my playthroughs.

We were all in a large room that was either the main hall or mess hall. It had a hearth burning brightly on one side. Most medieval structures always had a large fireplace somewhere in the main hall, no matter what world I ended up in. The fire illuminated one side of the room, but cast long shadows on the other giving the hall a rather grim, tense and overall gloomy atmosphere.

"They are almost ready, do you know why they are taking so long to prepare the Joining, John?" Duncan asked in a low voice as he came up beside me. At my raised eyebrow he continued, "I'm sure you are aware that we usually make our recruits retrieve their own vials of blood?"

"Yes," I nodded, "But as I understand that is more to make sure they have the courage to face the darkspawn than anything else? Usually Archdemon blood is better. More potent."

"So you know even that." It wasn't a question. "Is there anything else you wish to tell me before we do this?"

"Your recruits," I hesitated before continuing, "I'm not fully sure who they are, there were so many possibilities: some of them men, other times women. But I can tell you who is most likely to be the one to end the Blight, however, you may wish to visit all of them and recruit them if possible. I've seen ones where they don't survive the Joining."

"Very well," Duncan said after a moment of thinking, "Who are they?"

"The first one I can think of is the second child of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland."

"Lord Aedan Cousland?!" Duncan's voice was a whisper, but it barely covered his shock to everyone but John who nodded. "Who else?"

"The child of Cyrion and Adaia Tabris, they're over in the Alienage here in the city, I believe." Duncan's surprise was more subdued now but still prevalent.

"Adaia's daughter, Kallian?"

"You know her? Uh. Of course you know of her, her mother was a potential recruit for you, before Valendrian persuaded you to not do so."

"Yes, can I assume Valendrian will be behind young Kallian's wedding?"

"He'll panic the second you tell him you're looking for recruits and speed it up. But fate may very well conspire against him." At Duncan's wary look I added, "Expect trouble with just about every recruit I'm talking about. The next one is a Dalish Hunter of Clan Sabrae in the Brecilian Forest, they go by the name Mahariel."

"I cannot say I recognize the name."

"They're Keeper is named Marethari Talas, if that helps. When you find Mahariel, they'll be tainted outside of a ruin."

"Tainted?" Duncan's look sharpened, "By what exactly? Darkspawn?"

"No, I shook my head, "By a corrupted artifact, an Eluvian. You would recognize it as a tevinter mirror."

"I think I understand. I'll have to destroy it before I leave that area then."

"And cleanse it with fire for good measure." I added thinking of the elves who would be corrupted regardless of who the Warden was. Duncan nodded, not even questioning. It must be standard procedure for that kind of thing then. "The next one is a bit complicated."

"Complicated?"

"They're in the Circle. A mage." Duncan gave a silent aw of understanding as I continued, "If they are human, they'll be called Amell, if they are elven, then Surana."

"The templars will be very unhappy of me taking one of their quarry."

"Then use the Right of Conscription. That'll shut them up." I snarked. I had little patience for the Chantry and Templars now that I remembered the shitstorm they'll cause in a few years. Duncan snorted at my blunt dismissal of them.

I suppose I'll have to, is there anyone else?"

"Yes, while you might recognize one name you might not, but I think they'll be the first on your list of recruits."

"Oh?" Duncan was curious now.

"They're dwarves." I stated.

"Ah, that makes sense. If a Blight would happen we'd need to confirm it first. Very well, I will keep an eye out, who are they?"

"The first one you're most likely to meet is a casteless dwarf of the Carta, by the name of Brosca." Duncan raised an eyebrow, but I kept going, "It'll be at a Proving held in your honor. There will be a deal gone wrong and long story short the dwarf will be the champion of the Proving."

"A capable recruit then."

"More than most, but you'll have to get to them quickly." At his confused look I explained, "A lot of dwarves will be angry and out for blood since Brosca is a casteless. Their pride will not allow anything less."

"The culture of dwarves continues to baffle me." Duncan shook his head with a sigh.

"You and me both, brother." I replied with a sigh of my own thinking about the fiasco that was to come from Orzammar. Duncan looked at me at the brother comment, but he seemed to relax just a bit.

Huh, I was starting to grow on him.

"The last one is... well..." I choked on the last one since they are royalty. Duncan raised both his eyebrows at my stalling as I lamely finished, "King Endrin's second child."

"Prince Duran Aeducan?" He asked in a deadpanned tone. "To my knowledge we have had an Aeducan join the ranks of the wardens before, but..."

"But Floral Aeducan was not a prince. At least not to my knowledge."

"How did you know that?" Duncan asked skeptically.

"You would give Floral's mace to Brosca if you manage to recruit them." I replied cheekily. Before Duncan could do anything else, but roll his eyes, the doors opened as a couple of men stepped out bringing in a very familiar looking chalice.

Duncan immediately stepped up to take the chalice. With both hands holding it reverently, he stepped up to me, who was at the center of the room.

"We are here today to witness another join our order. We speak only a few words prior to it, but these have been spoken since the first." And then Duncan and every Grey Warden spoke together.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

Duncan stepped forward, presenting the chalice to me, "You are already aware of what must be done. You are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint for the greater good." I raised my eyebrow at that, even as I took it from him. The greater good, more like to keep your secrets within the order. "From this moment forth, you are a grey warden."

I raised the chalice to my lips. The stench was foul and I expected the taste to be so much worse. I looked at Duncan who was staring at me, and I could feel everyone else's stares on me too.

"Remember what I said." I ordered softly. Duncan realized I wasn't going to drink it until I got my answer, and he nodded.

I nodded in return before drinking from the chalice.


I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.

Please leave at least decent reviews with possible suggestions. Critiques are nice too so long as they're not hateful or flames. Such comments will be deleted the second I see them.

If anybody has any ideas on how John could improve Thedas or any country really, share it!