To be honest, he had never thought this day would come.
He had thought to die on a templar sword, with Sebastian's arrow through his heart, or even with Hawke's blade in his back.
He had not thought to live so long that his Calling would be upon him. He had thought that he could leave everything behind save the nightmares.
And the stamina, but he got to use that so infrequently it didn't bear dwelling upon.
Yet there he was, staring at the black hole in the side of a mountain with nothing but the staff on his back and the spells in his soul.
So, this answered his question – if you don't go to the parties, are you still a Gray Warden?
The answer was that the Gray Wardens always had one last big, bloody, scary as fuck going away party waiting.