Hey guys and gals and gals, I've got manflu and looking at this screen is giving me a migraine so I'll keep this short and sweet.

Ioialoha: I can't blame Flemeth for everything, even if it is really really easy. I mean, damn, right now we don't even know what the hell she is, less why she is. I think it's all going to come to a head in Inquisition.

shadowraider1339: Thank you very much :D

By the by, since I've mentioned it above, I'll address a question that was PM'd to me. You guys know that Sparrow is "a" me. A me that could, if you will. This me was created before Inquisition was announced. As such... he will know nothing about the events that take place after DA2. Which I assure you, he's not going to be happy about.

Anyhoo, here's Wonderwall. I mean Scoundrel.

Chapter 24: According to Plan... Or Not.

The Templars warm to me considerably after the shenanigans with the mountain lion. It's the sort of adventure that brings people together. Edwin regained his strength quickly after a few days, but was slow to thank me for saving his life. I don't hold it against him though. I mean, it's kinda brain washed into him not to trust mages so, I dunno. But hopefully this has taught him that not all of us who are magically inclined aren't all stark raving mad blood mages.

I just hope he doesn't trip to Kirkwall any time soon. I mean, really, for a place with utterly zero tolerance for mages of any sort, there were a lot of apostate blood mages up there.

In contrast the other Templar, Jorah, seems to almost worship me now. He's closer to my age than the other two, so I guess he hasn't had years of people telling him magic is bad. Add to that the fact I fought off a mountain lion and saved his friends life and I'm probably the closest thing to a super hero he's seen. So that's a fuzzy feeling. They've even given me a hooded robe, which I like to think of as a cape.

Sue me, I'm dramatic.

And then there's the Commander, Francois. He's playing whatever cards he's got close to his chest. He's civil and polite, yet curt and distant. I know he's grateful I saved his men, suspicious that I let myself be captured (twice) and then there's the usual distrust of apostates as a whole that - as the man must be in his fifties - I won't even bother trying to change his mind. I'll just do what I think is right and let him decide for himself.

The days began to grow cooler as we made our way to the Circle, arriving within a week of the attack. I let out a whistle as the tower comes into view. Truly, it's impressive.

"Have you ever seen the Circle before," inquires Jorah from my side. I glance at him, then turn my gaze back to the massive structure before me.

"Not in a while," I admit with a small smile. It must be... christ, at least three years since I've played Origins, if this is coming onto a year and a half in Ferelden.

"You'll become well acquainted soon," Francois says without venom, merely stating fact. I glare at him for a second before gazing at the still loch ahead of us. I wonder how many mages have dashed themselves against the rocks in an attempt to free themselves from this prison?

Duncan had better hurry.

"Shall we be away gentlemen?" I enquire as I stride towards my new home.

First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Greagoir are there to welcome me. If it could be called that.

"This is the apostate?" Greagoir inquires curtly as his men stand to attention. Greagor looks me over, quickly noticing my lack of restraints. I hold my head high as the Templar boss scowls at me.

"Yes sir," Francois says formally. He glances at me for a brief moment before squaring his shoulders and raising his head to look above Greagoir's head. "He came without a fight. Knight Commander, and aided us in our journey."

"How did he do this?" Enquires Irving, his voice impartial as he casts an analytical eye over me.

"He killed a mountain lion," I hear Jorah say in a stage whisper, awe evident in his voice, and nearly grimace.

"I didn't kill it," I argue to the young Templar. Turning back to the Commander I give a shy smile. "I merely let it reconsider it's options."

"Impressive," Irving says with a cocked brow. He looks towards Greagoir who scowls at him briefly before turning to his subordinate.

"Regardless of his grasp of the magical arts, we shall treat him as any other apostate. Francois, take him to the Harrowing chamber. Better to get it out of the way as soon as possible," Greagoir says, his face unreadable.

"The Harrowing?!" I say in shock. Fuck, I'd forgotten about that. Oh bugger, I hadn't planned for this.

"Don't worry, the Harrowing is a simple test to determine your place in the Circle," Irving says, with all the confidence of a cars salesman.

"Oh yeah, a name like that screams simplicity," I say as I feel Francois' vice like grip on my arm. "Don't suppose there's a written," I quip nervously. Around me are steely eyes, in all the men. Even silly Jorah.

"No," Greagoir says with a tone of finality that makes my insides quiver.

I really have to stop getting into these messes.

I'm given a meal and a wash before being led to the Harrowing Chamber. The meal was my idea. The wash was Graegoir's. I haven't had an opportunity to wash since before the Elvha incident in Lothering, so I'll admit I wasn't my freshest.

Then again, having a dip in Lake Calenhad isn't my idea of a relaxing bath.

I'm led up the tower slowly. Edwin and Jorah flank me, both staying silent. I'm silent, shaking slightly from the chill of the lake, and partly from anxiety.

The Harrowing doesn't inspire conversation.

We enter the chamber, and I see Irving and Greagoir standing by pedestal containing the lyrium that will send me to the Fade. If it works. I'm not the average Mage, but if a mana potion makes me feel like I'm on crack this will be an interesting adventure nonetheless. I might just watch my hand move in front of me for a while if I don't hit Dreamland.

Around the chamber, Templars stand watch. I know why. If I take too long to complete this test, one of them is going to kill me. And if I become an abomination (again, another uncertainty) they will all unite to contain my destruction and end my life.

Have I ever mentioned how I love being the centre of attention.

My clench my jaw to avoid all the other emotions I feel from pouring off my face. Fear. Anger. Loneliness. A hint of betrayal as well, if I'm perfectly honest. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding, ignoring how shaky it sounds.

Okay, think this way. I've beaten everything that I've come across, nothing has been able to take me down. Yeah, sometimes I've been beaten but I've licked my wounds and come back stronger than ever. I'm going to get through this.

And when it's over... I'll have everything I need.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him." Greagoir begins, but I snort.

"Can we just get this started, I've heard it all before," I say as I sweep forward, plunging my hand into the glowing liquid. Withdrawing it, I see sparkles and flashes of light arcing over my palm. "All this need for blethering..." I scowl before frowning.

There's no pain, and that's what the worst part is. I used to do this thing. Dunno what it was, it was just a thing. An annoying thing. No, it wasn't my talent for wittering on. When I stood up too fast, or yawned, or stretched or anything of the sort I'd have a fit. For me, I'd black out. Darkness would creep at the edges of my vision and the next thing I knew it was five minutes later and everyone was standing over me.

That's what it's like. I blink rapidly, panicking slightly and start splaying my hands, remembering that I'd need to brace myself for impact. I see the world shift as it's covered in black and green and reds and white and then it's all come back.

I sit up and stare at the green sky, and road I'm lying on. It's a normal road, concrete with white lines and pavements on either side. The kind of road you see everyday. The roads from Earth. The Fade then. Glad it worked anyway. Could have been worrisome if it hadn't. Doing my best not to dwell on the fact I've landed in a place like home. Demons and spirits craft the Fade around human perception, their memories and such. I shouldn't be taken aback by a dose of nostalgia.

"Well," I say, stumbling to my feet. I take a look around. No sign of any spirits or demons. No sign of any life for that matter. Just houses that I almost recognise. They look similar to the ones back home, but there's chimneys added where there weren't before, extra doors and windows. "This way," I mutter after a moment of indecision, picking a direction at random.

After a few moments, I remember there's an unspecified time limit before a Templar takes me down. My pace quickens and I move into the land of dreams.

Tick Tock.

See you's next week party people!