There was a shout, and the darkspawn looked up with wide, surprised eyes. Its blade was still held in mid-air, ready to cleave Nathaniel in two. A man flew past Vash and the Wardens, and with flashing steel, the darkspawn's head was removed from its shoulders.

Nathaniel sputtered and shook his head, shutting his eyes against the close spray of darkspawn blood.

Vash dropped Nathaniel in alarm, and with a grunt, Nathaniel rolled onto his back and blinked the blood out of his eyes to look up at their savior.

It was the tattooed elf from the tavern. His massive blade swung again, lobbing the arm off another darkspawn before it dug into the hip of another. The creatures fell under the elf's quick movements, and soon all that remained of the small horde was bloody body parts on the wet cave floor.

The elf took in a deep breath, stepped back, and looked down at Nathaniel. "I thought your order was supposed to be good at fighting these things." He reached a hand out to help the man up, and then looked annoyed when Nathaniel didn't accept it.

Vash got back to his feet and picked up Nathaniel yet again. "He was cursed by blood magic," he explained. "His arms do not work at the moment."

The elf's eyes ran over Alistair's prone form before they returned to the former qunari. "Shanedan. Theanan et bas saarebas. Asha?"

Vash blinked at the elf. "Not I," he answered. "The others went after her. We left to find aid." He settled Alistair on the ground with care, and then dug into his pack, pulling out a roll of canvas bandages.

The elf settled his blade over his shoulder with a grimace, staring down into the dark cave. "Ketaasa, Tal Vashoth?"

Vash sighed heavily, "No. And you're being very rude, elf." He stepped closer to Nathaniel, crossed his limp arms over his chest and wrapped him with the bandages about his torso to hold his arms in place. That should make it easier to run without them flapping about wildly like dead fish, even if he felt like a mummified Nevarran.

The elf shrugged, looking back at Nathaniel. "My apologies. My name is Fenris. It appears you may need an escort."

"You followed us," Nathaniel murmured as he remained still under Vash's careful wrapping. "Why?"

Fenris paused, staring down into the darkness. "I suppose I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see the death of a Tevinter mage in the name of justice, rather than status."

Vash found a cloth in his bag, and wiped Nathaniel's face clean. Nathaniel winced when he felt a sudden stab of pain over his cheekbone. Alistair got in a few good hits during that tumble down the hill.

Vash soon got to his feet and pushed Nathaniel back to his. "We need to keep moving." He hefted Alistair back over his shoulder, and once again began walking towards the light above.

"Is he dead?" Fenris asked, nodding towards Alistair. He walked beside Nathaniel, one hand on the man's back to help him keep his balance for the steep climb.

"No. The curse that happened to that one's arms happened to this one's whole body."

"That's magic for you."

Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder. There was still that buzz at the base of his skull. "There are still darkspawn nearby. Keep your wits about you."

Fenris nodded, drawing the blade from his back once more. He cast a sideways glance at Vash, and once again spoke quickly and quietly in the man's native tongue. The only words Nathaniel recognized were "qun" and "Tal Vashoth."

Vash shot the elf a dark look, and responded in the qunari language. "And again," the healer added, switching back to Fereldish, "you are being rude."

The elf fell silent, and in the break in conversation, breathing could be heard. It was a long, low, rumbling exhale from something big with big lungs. The men froze.

Fenris stepped away, quietly jogging the last few steps up the slope to the mouth of the cave. He ducked immediately, and quickly slid back down, looking slightly rattled. "Ogre."

"What?" Nathaniel hissed.

"There is an ogre. Standing at the mouth of the cave," Fenris whispered, continuing to slide down the hill, deeper into the cavern. "It wasn't there when I came in… There must be another way out."

"Can't you... distract it?" Nathaniel asked.

"Can't you?" The elf looked back up at him, brows lifted. "I don't think you comprehend how big that thing is and how small the opening to this cave is. It's... a red one."

A red ogre? "They don't come in red." Nathaniel paused, then crouched and crept up the hill, just high enough to see a pair of large, heavy horns. They were indeed painted red. Was it more blood? Nathaniel inched up higher to see the large ugly head of the thing completely covered with red. It snorted, shifting from one foot to the other. If he didn't know any better, Nathaniel would swear it was standing guard.

Shit. Nathaniel sat on his rear and slid back down the slope towards Vash and Fenris. "There is no other way out. The only thing you'll find in that direction is the Deep Roads and more darkspawn."

Fenris was staring up at the dangling bodies over the deep pool of blood. He turned his head and spat in disgust. "Then let us slay them on our way to kill this mage."

"My arms are wet noodles at the moment, I'm not in a fit state to slay anything!"

Fenris' shoulders sagged slightly. "A man without arms, a man without consciousness, and a man without a desire to fight." He shook his head, stepping cautiously around the pool. "Where is the rest of your party?"

Nathaniel tried to point, then grimaced when he remembered that he couldn't. "Down that tunnel there, the big one.

Vash followed, frowning, still with Alistair over his shoulder. "This is not a very good plan. Careful of the blood."

"An ogre is too much for one man," Nathaniel muttered, tiptoeing around the pool. Blood everywhere. He was no doubt going to be having blood soaked nightmares tonight. He jogged after the elf in the darkening tunnel, which was soon lit by glowing mushrooms on either side of the dirt floor. The dirt gave way to stone, the stone to brick, and they were in the Deep Roads.