Chapter Seven: I Don't Want to Set the World On Fire

"Help us!" screamed a dwarven merchant surrounded by darkspawn on the Imperial Highway. "I'm beginning to think that bringing my wares into a warzone was a bad idea!"

"Don't worry, we'll save you!" Leliana jabbed Faren. "Honey, go save them.

"Yes, dear." Faren drew his weapons and trudged reluctantly into the fray.

"Poor guy." Duran drew his own sword. "I'd better go give him a hand."

"Altruism? Not while I'm around, buster!" Morrigan nagged, tugging her boyfriend by the ear.

Alistair laughed. "Man, you guys are so totally whipped.

Elissa smacked her prince upside the head. "Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Clone Boy!"

"Ow!" Alistair sniffled, wounded. "You know what? Forget about uniting Ferelden under the Cousland and Theirin bloodlines. If you're going to treat me like that, I'm romancing Mahariel!" He handed Lyna a flower. "You win this rose ceremony, baby!"

Lyna took the proffered rose, surprised. "You really think you could love an elf?"

"Of course. I'm a Theirin, aren't I?"

Meanwhile, poor lonely Faren was losing ground against the brood of darkspawn. A hurlock alpha was preparing to run him through, when suddenly the son of the besieged dwarven merchant tossed a magical rune at the creatures, causing a massive explosion. "Boom!" the boy giggled.

"Woah!" Darrian was impressed. "This kid's a weapon of mass destruction. He should be outlawed by the Geneva Convention!"

The boy's father smiled proudly. "Yeah, Sandal here is a five-time Special Olympics gold medalist in the Monster-Smashing and Butt-Kicking events. I'd show you the medals, but he sort of blew them all up. Along with our house. And most of the Market District."

"Hm, fascinating." Darrian backed away nervously. "But my friends and I really must be going. To the nearest bomb shelter. For, uh, a duck and cover drill."

"Oh. Can we come with you?"

"No!" screamed Lyna. "I mean, uh, no, sorry but you can't, or there won't be enough Radaway to go around." The Wardens turned and ran for their lives.

The team of nobles, fugitives, and noble fugitives broke camp just outside Lothering. The Wardens all pitched tents, but for some reason, chose to sleep in front of them rather than inside them. As they slept, the Archdemon appeared in their dreams. "RAAAAAH! I told you little blood-swilling punks to leave me alone! Stop with the psychic eavesdropping, or I'll start counting Pazaak cards in my head!"

The Wardens woke up trembling, ashen-faced and in a cold sweat. "Bad dreams?" Alistair inquired.

"Your powers of perception astound me," sneered Darrian.

"Did you see the Archdemon?"

"The Archdemon?" Duran repeated. "That big scary dragon we've been seeing is the Archdemon? I was expecting horns and a tail, or maybe a pitchfork."

"Wait a minute." Neria frowned. "If Grey Wardens can see that the Archdemon is real, why didn't Duncan just say so and end all the skepticism about this being a real Blight?"

Alistair bristled. "I'll have you know he tried. He said he could sense the Archdemon, but everyone assumed he was guessing."

"Well, of course they did." Neria blinked. "You've got to admit, "I can sense it" is pretty vague. Why didn't explain himself? You know, maybe say 'And I don't mean that in a mystical, abstract sense. I mean that I saw and heard him using the specialized abilities that come with being a Grey Warden, and he's definitely not the kind of guy we want moving into our neighborhood.'"

"Cut him a break. It was the morning after one of Gregor's keggers, and none of us were really thinking that clearly."

"Even so, he should have made time to explain more clearly about such an important matter, instead of playing the mysterious sage," the elven mage persisted. "Honestly, was he trying to make himself look crazy? It's no wonder Loghain got suspicious and ran off like a scared bunny! If I were less awesome, I might have done the same thing."

"How dare you make such a valid point?!" the Templar roared, drawing his blade menacingly.

Upon seeing his mistress threatened, Snugglebug the Genlock sprang into action, jumping on Alistair and clamping its long, cruel fangs around his head.

"Ah! Call him off, Neria!" Alistair screamed, his face covered in darkspawn slobber.

Lyna grabbed a crowbar and pried the little darkspawn off. "Lighten up, Alistair. Surana's got a point about Duncan."

"How can you say that, Lyna?" Alistair sobbed. "How can you speak ill of the man who risked and shortened your life, sterilized you against your will, and cursed you with a lifetime of bone-chilling nightmares?"

"He did what? That bearded bastard!"

"Ingrate!" Alistair pouted like a pro. "You're an evil, selfish witch, and I'll never, ever forgive you!"

"I bought you a dolly."

"You're forgiven." Alistair snatched up the proffered Malibu Garahel excitedly.

Duran yawned, picking up his blanket and heading for the woods. "I can't sleep with all this drama."

As he wandered away from the camp, he ran into Morrigan. "Oh, good, you're awake," said the witch impassively. "I'm bored. Wanna come to my tent and make the bereskarn with two backs?"

The dwarf stared. "What, seriously?"

"Sure, why not? I do this sort of thing all the time."

"With who? Aren't you supposed to be a hermit?"

"Yeah, but there's always . So, how 'bout it?"

When they emerged from Morrigan's tent later, Duran was smiling contentedly. "Oh, Morrigan, darling, you're nothing like the women back in Orzammar. It's so wonderful to be with someone who doesn't view me as a walking sperm bank."

"Um, right, that's me," the witch mumbled guiltily.

Suddenly, Bodhan Feddic jumped out of the bushes, followed by his son Sandal, who was toting a Radio Flyer full of lyrium and frag grenades. "Hey there, Warden, fancy meeting you here."

"Ah!" Duran yelped, hurriedly pulling his pants back on. "Where the hell did you come from?"

"Well, I originally came from Orzammar, where I was part of the Merchant Caste until I got arrested for robbing an important corpse. Then I came to the surface with my atomic tot and found some new corpses to rob, because apparently I still haven't learned my lesson about that. Then I married a woman who may or may not be imaginary, and then—"

Duran clamped a hand over the still-babbling merchant's mouth. "Woah, dude, I didn't ask for a freaking autobiography. I just meant, what are you doing here? Are you stalking us? Because I think that job is already taken." He indicated several shriek assassins and a tattooed elf lurking ominously in the bush next door to Bodhan and Sandal.

"No, nothing like that. I was simply hoping you'd all get killed on the road so I could rob your corpses. But since it looks like that's not going to happen for a while, do you mind if I spend the next year or so following you to the most distant and treacherous corners of Ferelden?"

Morrigan eyed him suspiciously. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"I think it's pretty obvious that I don't. But if you don't want me and my little bundle of mass destruction around, we can always find someone else to stalk." The merchant thought a moment. "I guess there's always that nice fratricidal chap who was hanging around back in Lothering."

"That's not necessary," said Duran. "You can stay, so long as you promise not to rob my corpse until you're sure it's dead."

"Excellent!" Beaming, Bodhan held out a bottle. "Here, as a token of my appreciation, please accept this rare Antivan brandy."

Duran sniffed the bottle cautiously, detecting a familiar aroma that filled him with nostalgia. "This isn't brandy, it's Fleshrot."

"Oh, uh, you noticed, huh?" Bodhan eyed the Warden's gear longingly.

Duran frowned suspiciously. "You don't happen to have another son, do you? A guy named Brosca?"

"That depends. You with the Department of Child Support Enforcement?"

Meanwhile, on the other side of camp, Darrian was rolling out of bed and spotted a strange silhouette approaching. He reached for his daggers. "A human! Kill it!"

The terrified stranger raised his hands in surrender. "Please, ser, don't hurt me! My name's Levi Dryden. I don't mean to be any trouble, but I've been standing around your camp for hours, waiting for one of you to get around to talking to me. Since nobody seems interested, I figured I'd better take the initiative."

Darrian waved him off. "If you're here to tell us about Jesus, we've already got Leliana for that. If you're here to sell something, you're wasting your time, because Alistair just blew the last of our gold on a new fondue set."

"Actually, I'm here to give you a quest."

The city elf groaned. "You too? We've already got, like, twenty of those we have no idea how we're going to finish."

"Don't worry, this one is really straightforward. I just need you to go to Soldiers' Peak and—"

"Soldiers' Peak!" Darrian exploded. "That's clear up on the Coastlands, almost to the Free Marches! If we had time to go there, we'd have time to cross the border and get some Wardens who actually know what they're doing to fix this stupid Blight!"

Levi looked startled. He clearly hadn't been expecting a refusal. "But—but Duncan promised me…"

Darrian's eyes hardened. "Look, shem, we only knew Warden Kenobi for a few hours, but in those few hours, he managed to permanently rape our minds, jeapordize our lives, and curse us with a horrific, inescapable, premature death. Invoking his name isn't going to get you very far with any of us, except maybe that nut Alistair."

"But what about the achievement troph—"

"I said BACK OFF!" roared the elf. Dejected, Levi went back to standing around aimlessly on the outskirts of camp.

Alistair plopped down on the grass next to Darrian. The senior Warden's face was bright red, and he was as tense as a bowstring.

"What's your problem?" the elf snapped. "You might as well tell me. Everyone always does."

Alistair somehow managed to turn even redder. "Oh, nothing major, it's just…well, have you noticed that this camp of ours doesn't seem to have a latrine?"

The city elf surveyed the campsite with mild surprise. "Huh, you're right. Well, maybe we'll get lucky and Bodhan will loot us a Porta-Potty one of these days. In the meantime, we'd better figure out where to head first.

"Well," Alistair ventured meekly. "After all those well-substantiated rumors we heard in Lothering, about our greatest political ally being on the brink of death, I was thinking maybe we should go to him first. So he doesn't, you know, drop dead without calling the Landsmeet, rendering all our other efforts a complete waste of time."

Faren, who had just finished revving up his wheelbarrow for the day, came over to join them. "Good point, brother, but on the other hand, the Circle Tower will have lots of cool magic stuff to steal."

"I gotta go with Brosca on this," Darrian agreed.

"What?" Alistair stared at his comrades uncomprehendingly. "But we're in danger of losing the one man in Ferelden with the will and the power to stop this senseless war! Look, if you won't go to Redcliffe out of practicality, can you do it as a favor to me? You're risking the life of the man who raised me, after all." He waved his girlfriend over. "Lyna, honey, please talk some sense into them. For me?"

Lyna smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Alistair, but I want to go to the Tower. I think it's already been established that I'm hot for Templars."

"You vile, traitorous hag!" screamed the royal clone.

Lyna handed her boyfriend a brightly wrapped package. "Here's a hand puppet to go with your dolly."

Alistair's anger immediately faded. "Have I ever told you that you remind me of a rose, beautiful?"

"All right, then it's settled, off to the tower we go," Neria chimed in. "I can't wait to introduce Snugglebug to all my friends, and catch up with First Enchanter Dumble—er, Irving."

Alistair sighed. "I really need to start being more assertive."

"Go play with your dollies, Prince Charming."

"Yes'm."