Chapter Six: Climb Every Mountain

As the party of adventurers entered Lothering, they were met by a band of highwaymen. The leader looked them over warily. "What have we here? A cunning femme fatale, a charming prince, a loyal hound, a proud and exotic warrior, a bold young rebel, a lovable rogue, a mysterious elven sorceress, and not one but two exiled nobles? Clearly this is a fight that the powers that be do not intend for us to win." He threw down his weapons and held out a pouch of coins. "We'll let you pass in safety and even give you all our money, just don't hurt us."

"Now why can't Howe and Loghain be this sensible?" Duran wondered, taking the proffered money and walking on.

"So, where do we go from here?" Alistair asked.

"Why are you asking us?" Darrian snapped. "You're our superior officer, you're clearly royalty—"

"DIFFERENT HAIRSTYLE!"

"Whatever. Plus you've had way more formal education and combat training than me or Brosca, and being a human male, unlike the rest of us, you'll face far less resistance and discrimination from most of the people we'll be dealing with."

Alistair burst into tears. "How can you ask me to take on that kind of responsibility at a time like this? I just lost my Daddykins!" the royal clone sobbed. "I gave him the best twenty-four weeks of my life!"

Morrigan whacked him upside the head. "Alistair, you're an idiot. And I suspect I'll be saying those words a lot."

The other Wardens were even less sympathetic. "Hey, you think you've got problems?" Elissa challenged. "My whole family was just massacred, adorable nephew and all!"

"Yeah," Lyna chimed in. "I lost my best buddy, was torn from the only home I've ever home, and now I'm stuck fighting for idiots like you."

"I was thrown in jail for the heinous crime of being more awesome than the Warrior Caste," said Faren.

"I was almost lynched by Klansmen…uh, I mean, executed by shemlen," seethed Darrian.

"My kid brother killed our big brother and pinned it on me, so I was thrown into the Deep Roads to die horribly. By my own father. On my birthday," Duran sniffled.

Everyone looked expectantly at Neria. "Oh, uh, let me think…" She fumbled for something equally tragic. "My friend was almost arrested, does that count?"

"Was it an unjust or unwarranted execution?"

"Well, no. He kind of had it coming," the mage admitted.

"What about the Templars back at the tower?" Elissa supplied. "Wasn't there a lot of oppressive surveillance?"

"Well, there was this one Templar who used to follow me around and watch me like a hawk, but later it turned out that he was just in love with me."

Elissa sighed, turning back to Alistair. "Look, you bastard—"

"The fatherless kind," Alistair interjected.

"Whatever. The point is, apart from Surana, we're way worse off than you are. You've got no right to dump all your responsibilities on us like this."

"Cut me some slack, I'm just not as awesome as you are."

Elissa was livid. "Listen buddy, I'm trying really hard to fall in love with you. I mean, you're a bastard prince and I'm a disenfranchised noblewoman. We're obviously supposed to end up together. But you're not making it very easy for me!"

"Enough!" Darrian thundered. "The guy's obviously useless. Maybe Morrigan will have something more helpful to say."

"Damn straight. I say we should go after Loghain first."

The city elf pondered this. "Huh. That's actually a really good idea. If we can take him down before he starts siccing his army on half the nobles in Ferelden, it'll save many lives, preserve military resources for the Blight, and enable us to fight the darkspawn without being constantly harassed by assassins."

"No, we won't be doing that," said Alistair.

"Hey, man, you had your chance to make a decision and you blew it. Besides, you hate Loghain more than anybody!"

"Yeah, but we're no match for him right now. Let's wait till we've gained a few levels and looted every mildly useful piece of gear in Ferelden."

"I like the way you think, brother!" Faren said, piling metal shards into his wheelbarrow.

"I need a drink," Elissa muttered, storming off toward the nearest bar.

A ragged beggar family grasped at Darrian's armor as he passed. "Spare a coin, good ser?"

"How dare you hit up someone as disenfranchised as me for money?" the city elf roared indignantly. He drew a dagger. "Kill all humans!"

"Ah!" The father of the family moved to shield his wife and child. "Please, ser, we're not humans, we're elves, see?" He moved a strand of hair aside to reveal a pointed ear.

"Oh, well good for you, then, here's fifty silvers." Darrian put away his blade, looking a little disappointed. "Sorry for the misunderstanding, but you've gotta admit, despite all the hoopla about elves being alien and exotic, we look exactly like humans when you cover up our ears."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about just getting some minor plastic surgery on these things," said the beggar, tugging an earlobe. "I could just tell everyone I was a short, wimpy human and not have to live like a slave anymore. Unfortunately, my insurance doesn't cover cosmetic procedures."

"Tough break, man. Maybe you could try moving to another country. I hear they have universal health care among the Orlesians."

Hundreds of miles away in the Royal Place, Teyrn Loghain sat up in bed and snarled helplessly. "RAUGH!"

Back in Lothering, the only bridge out of town was being paced by a pathetic little orphan boy. "Mother, help!" he wailed pitifully. "I'm cold and hungry and I may or may not be planning to throw myself off this bridge!"

"Creators, we get it," Lyna said tiredly. "It sucks to be a refugee, there's no need to rub our faces in it."

Five seconds later, a Chasind man ran past her screaming, "The darkspawn are coming! We're all doomed! Your quest is VAIN!"

"Come to think of it, I could use a drink myself," Lyna muttered, going to join Elissa.

Standing in front of the only bar in town, the motley band was greeted by a helpful civilian. "Hi, I just thought you'd like to know, this bar is packed with Loghain's soldiers and they'll probably kill you if you try to go in."

Lyna and Elissa weighed their options. "Well, if we don't get good and drunk right away, we're just end up murdering half the morons in this town."

"Either way, someone's gonna die."

The stranger laughed. "Fair enough. My name's Hawke. My family and I live here in Lothering, since there's no finer home for a notorious clan of apostates than right next door to a Chantry full of Templars."

"Well, said Neria," I'm afraid you'll have to find somewhere new to tempt fate. The darkspawn are on their way here."

Hawke brightened. "Really? That's perfect! All I've got to do is put off evacuating my family until the village is already overrun, then arrange an 'accidental' death at the hands of the darkspawn for my stupid, whiny little brother." Hawke cackled evilly. "It probably won't even be that hard. He loves to play hero. I'll just let him tackle an ogre or something, then conveniently forget to back him up."

"Wow, even I think that's cold," Darrian exclaimed.

"If you'd ever met Carver, you'd understand," Hawke defended.

"Whatever, thanks for the advice," said Morrigan. "Now let me give you some of my own. If you ever run into a dangerous but hilarious old witch who tried to extort some seemingly harmless favor from you, just cover your ears and run like hell."

"Pfft, you're not the boss of me," Hawke scoffed, running home to check his brother's will.

"I have a funny feeling I should have pumped that jerk full of spider venom while I had the chance," Morrigan groused.

Three humans, three elves, and two dwarves walked into a bar, but instead of doing something funny, they were apprehended by a bunch of soldiers. "There you are!" the commander shouted. "Wardens! We've been looking for you?"

"In a bar?" Faren snickered. "That's awfully convenient."

The officer scowled. "I've had a few, but I'm cool to fight." He drew his sword menacingly. "You Wardens planned our defeat at Ostagar! You'll pay for that!"

Alistair scratched his head. "Why would we do that? What possible reason could the Wardens have had for wanting themselves and their greatest ally brutally slaughtered for no strategic benefit?"

"Well, I, uh…"

"That was the best lie he could come up with?" Alistair exploded. "Ferelden's most cunning general? I'm appalled, you hear? Absolutely disgusted! And you morons actually believe this gossip-rag conspiracy theory?" He turned to his compatriots sadly. "You guys were right, this country isn't worth saving. Screw our David-and-Goliath campaign of intrigue and heroism! Let's go to Kirkwall with everyone else and let these jerks die with their crazy dictator."

"Hey, our dictator's not crazy, he's just eccentric!" the officer thundered, charging Alistair and slicing the bastard prince's head off.

A beautiful young chantry sister came skipping merrily over to them, heedless of the blood spattered all over her vestments. "Aw, come on guys, just because you're Loghain's soldiers, it doesn't mean you have to fight his enemies, does it?"

The officer was utterly perplexed. "Actually, that's exactly what it means. Now beat it, or I'll gut you."

Duran rolled his eyes. "Threatening pacifist nuns? Ooh, yeah, you guys are totally the real heroes here."

Alistair chose this moment to stand up, place his head back on his shoulders, and dust himself off. "Ouch."

Loghain's men recoiled in abject horror. "Maker's Breath, how did you do that?"

"Plot armor's powerful stuff," Duran warned. "You might want to remind your 'eccentric' friend Loghain of that. Now scram."

The soldiers ran off screaming. The sister handed Alistair a Band-Aid. "Well, that was unpleasant. So, do you guys have any room in your group for a happy-go-lucky singing nun?"

"That depends," Lyna replied warily. "Are you going to make us sing about lonely goatherds and wear clothes made out of old drapes?"

"No, I'm not that kind of singing nun."

"Fine by me, then, but why do you want to join us, anyway?"

"The Maker told me to in a vision."

The Wardens stared incredulously. Dog cocked his head quizzically.

"All right, " she relented, "it might have been a drug-induced vision, but that still counts! Besides, I'm running from a tragic and dangerous past. I could really use a big strong Warden to protect me and heal my wounded heart." She laid her head coyly on Darrian's shoulder. "Mmm, you elves are so wonderfully exotic, with your pointy ears, and…and your pointy ears."

Darrian brandished a dagger. "Take it off or I'll break it off, shem."

Leliana jumped back as if she'd been burned. "Okay, then what about this one?" She moved on to Neria. "Ah, a mage, so powerful and mysterious!" She tried to slip an arm around Neria's shoulders, but Snugglebug, who was cuddled up to his mistress, snapped at her menacingly.

Faren jumped between the girl and the genlock, mace at the ready. "Never fear, beautiful! I'll be your big, strong Warden."

The sister skeptically gave the short, lumpy and hairy dwarf a once-over. "Are you serious? You're a godless subterranean hobo. I'm a sophisticated and devout French—uh, Orlesian woman. What could I possibly have in common with you?"

"Well," said Faren, checking their stats, "it looks like we both enjoy throwing dirt in our opponents' eyes and then kicking them in the junk. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"I guess it'll have to do." The sister picked up her diminutive new boyfriend and sat him on a table so she could kiss him.

"True love at last!" Faren smirked. "Shows what you know, Mom!" He grabbed the Orlesian by the arm. "Come on, baby, let's ride off into the sunset on my noble steed!"

"Faren, get off my poor dog's back this instant!" Elissa commanded.

"Spoilsport," the dwarf pouted.

"Well, I guess introductions are in order. My name is Leliana."

"Leliana what?"

"Just Leliana. You know, like Cher."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Elissa Cousland, and this is my loyal fighting dog—"

"Let me guess. Dogmeat?"

"No, just Dog."

"Oh well, close enough."

The Wardens and their new girlfriends headed for the Imperial Highway, but on the outskirts of town, the found a large man huddled in a cage and muttering to himself.

Duran approached him curiously. "Hey, who are you?"

"I am sten of the Berasaad, the vanguard of the Qunari people."

"But what's your name?"

The prisoner blushed. "It's Norbert, but I don't like to spread that around. Just call me Sten."

"Wait a minute," said the dwarven prince confusedly. "A qunari? I've heard of your kind. Aren't they supposed to have huge horns, grey skin, and red tattoos all over their body? And, you know, be giants? You're maybe three inches taller than Alistair."

The prisoner lowered his voice nervously. "Look, I'll level with you. I'm actually a freakishly tall elf; I just joined the qunari to get away from all the taunting."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with us," Darrian reassured him. "So what are you doing in that cage?"

"Well, the Templars tried to put me in a cell, but I was too strong for them. So they put out a pile of cookies, and when I came to eat them, they dropped this cage on top of me."

"I got the idea from playing Mouse Trap," a nearby Templar explained proudly.

"Wow, that's rough," said Duran sympathetically. "What did you do to deserve that?"

The big warrior shrugged. "I killed a bunch of innocent women and children who took me into their home and probably saved my life."

Duran was aghast. "Why in Thedas would you do that?"

"Well, I asked them if they knew where my missing sword was, and they weren't very helpful."

"Oh, well in that case, I suppose they had it coming," said Elissa cheerfully. "Why don't I go and talk to the Revered Mother about getting you off scot-free, and then we'll see about finding your lost sword. I know you killed the last people who failed to help you with that, but I'm sure you'd never do that to me if I should happen to be unsuccessful, right?"

"Sure, kadan, whatever you say."

"Have you lost your mind, Cousland?" Duran hissed. "That man slaughtered a helpless family in cold blood for no apparent reason! It's exactly what Arl Howe did to your family, and you want his head on a pike! Do you only care about exacting justice for violent crimes when they happen to you?"

"Gee, when you put it that way, it makes me sound like a total creep. But yeah, pretty much."

The dwarven prince groaned. "I'll never understand human society."

"You too, Aeducan?" Morrigan said, looking at him with new interest. "In that case, maybe I could see myself going for a short guy."

At the chantry, the Revered Mother greeted them with an outstretched donation cup. "May the Maker bless you, children. Pending a donation of thirty silvers, of course."

Faren reached into his wheelbarrow and came up with a pouch of silver coins and a large stack of Pick 5 cards. "Here ya go. I swiped 'em off one of your Templars' corpses."

"My hero," Leliana sighed adoringly.

"So," the Revered Mother continued, "do you want one of my useless non-magical blessings? Or is there something else I can do for you?"

"We're Grey Wardens and we need your help."

"Sorry, but I don't really have a lot of resources to spare right now. All I can offer you is some advice." The elderly nun burst into a shrill song. "Climb every mountain! Ford every stream! Follow every rainbow! Till you find your dream!"

"Gah." Faren covered his ears, wincing. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of giving us the key to the qunari prisoner's cage."

"Oh? And what do you think, Leliana? You've known these people a whole five minutes longer than I have. Can they be trusted?"

"How the hell should I know? I think the whole Marjolaine fiasco has clearly established that I am a terrible judge of character."

"True. Well, take the key anyway. That alleged qunari's constant muttering has been driving everyone around here nuts."

"Thanks."

"Crazy humans," grumbled Duran.

Elissa sauntered fearlessly into the semi-sane warrior's cage and handed him a sword. "Here you go, just try not to butcher any more kids with it."

"I'll do my best, though if they come between me and my daily Oreo fix, I won't be held responsible for my actions."

Alistair grinned, munching on yet another wheel of cheese. "I like him already!"