Reyn's Journal Chapter 2, a dragon age fanfic

A/N: Hey everyone! Another chapter from Reyn's POV is up. Now, this is slightly different from the previous entries. For one, it is split. This is half of the total journal entry; hence the reason for Reyn not signing her name at the end. Also, there will be differences between Zev and Reyn's journals. Zev only touched basics; he was mostly comic relief. Reyn will mention events that Zev never even alluded to; a big reason for this is because I did not think them up until I started writing Reyn's journal. The two journals (and the rest that follow) will all add up but is wise to read all the characters' journals. Not only do they show deep character insight and different feelings, but there are certain events that characters deem more important than others. To fully appreciate the entire package, the smaller units need to be read. All right, I have babbled on enough, I think. On with the show!

Disclaimer: DA: O is not my baby. Bioware and EA own the awesomeness. I just grab the players and make them dance.

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Being the leader is both an honor…and a bane. The others can afford a little negligence, depending on the subject matter at hand. I, on the other hand, have to be at my best at all times. I am the one that everyone looks towards when a problem arises, and the one that takes the blame if something goes awry. It can be stressful, knowing you hold the lives of others in your hands and if you don't pay attention, they will get ripped away in a heartbeat. I know this better than anyone.

Today was one such day. We all took a vote and decided that the Dalish would be the first group we gained as allies. Alistair was not entirely happy with this decision as he had really wanted to gain Arl Eamon's favor first. Though I could sense an underlying feeling of relief emanating off of him. He is actually the main reason I pushed the Dalish forward as our first destination. I know of his past with the Arl, and I want to grant him some time to gather his sense before he comes face to face with the man (and woman) from his childhood. However, this was kept as a secret for me and me alone. Alistair agreed to the plan without much prodding, and the journey had officially begun.

On our way, we met many people on the road. Knights, townsfolk; most were refugees. Alistair and I were careful to disguise our Warden marks on our armor and persons. Reports from the traitor Loghain had poisoned the minds of many such people. He sprouted lies about us, saying that we were the betrayers of King Cailan. It filled Alistair and I with rage at the false accusations, and Leliana did not like all the hate he was aiming at Orlais. Yes, our little mismatched group did not think too fondly of the great hero. The only people I despised more than him were Rendon Howe…and myself. I knew it was irrational, but a part of me still believed that I should have died fighting with my parents. If I was present, maybe I could have made the difference needed to save their lives. But I know that is not what my parents wanted, and if I had fallen Alistair would have been alone in the quest against the Blight.

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The way to the Dalish was paved by danger: bandits, Darkspawn, desperate refugees…everyone seemed to want a piece of us. It always confused me; we are a fairly large group, why would any sane person want to fight such able-bodied people? It is a testament to how dire things are in Ferelden. Allies needed to be secured quickly, or our country was doomed. Seeing the vast amount of devastation our beloved world had taken at the hands of the Blight was not a pretty sight. A helpless feeling washed over me; how the hell was a nineteen year old newly recruited Grey Warden with emotional scars supposed to save Ferelden from the archdemon? I know Alistair was just as haunted. Every night we were plagued by visions depicting the evil taint and their demonic leader. It was rare that we slept fitfully. But we shouldered our burden and trudged on.

Finally, on the fifth day of travel, we reached the infamous Brecilian Forest. The forest had a rich history, not much of it pleasant. A war had been fought long ago, between the Tevinter Imperium and the elves. Many were slaughtered, and the untold number of deaths had disrupted the balance between the real world and the Fade. The Veil was ripped, and the lost souls are said to still roam the forest, reliving their deaths and keeping unwanted intruders out. The Dalish did not camp very far in, so we would be relatively safe. We just had to watch out for spiders that nested on the outskirts of the forest. We pushed forward, watching our backs and keeping our bases covered. Alistair and I lead the formation while Sten and Raines protected our rear. Leliana and Zevran took care of the sides, pointing their bows and arrows at every single shadow, intent and watchful. Morrigan and Wynne were protected in the center, hands at the ready to fling magic at any enemies. There were spiders like anticipated; we easily took care of the problem. Pest control at its finest. The tightly formed knot we were moving in was efficient; spider carcasses lay in our wake as we moved inwards. Of course, we ended up running into the only thing that could give us some grief: the spider mom. The queen was not very happy with the deaths of her offspring. I had to throw my shield arm up as the enraged arachnid lunged at me, fangs flashing in the moonlight. The sharp points embedded themselves into the steel, jarring my arm at the raw power of the hit.

Alistair came to the rescue, swinging his sword and yelling at the mad mommy. The spider seemed to roll her eyes, batting him away with one of her eight legs. He let out a whoosh as the air left his lungs momentarily, falling to his knees at the unexpected pain. Leliana and Zev shot her with their arrows; it only angered her more at the sharp pain. It lumbered its way towards my bard, and I saw red. Now, I know that Leli can take care of herself; she is far more capable, and not even close to being helpless. But seeing the spider queen head towards her and knowing that she would definitely be under attack…well, I lost it. With a mighty roar I charged the hapless beast. Starfang hissed as it sliced through the air, connecting with the spider with a satisfying squish. The queen let out her version of a scream, and turned on me. I again lifted my shield, butting her away with it. She recovered far quicker than I had anticipated, and on her next attack I felt her fangs pierce my arm. My arm thrummed with pain; I cried out.

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The pain distracted me enough so that I was virtually helpless against the spider. Thankfully Raines launched himself at the monstrosity, tearing into her with his powerful jaws. Sten swung his greatsword at it, ripping off a couple of its thick appendages. The fallen queen tried to get back up, but I swiftly plunged my blade into her, silencing her forever. I removed my blade, cleaning the gore off on the grass. I looked at my injury. Two holes marred my arm, leaking blood. The area around the holes looked a little red. However, I thought nothing of it. As far as I knew, the thing was not poisonous. So I just brushed off my pain and readied myself for moving out. Leliana asked if I was alright, worriedly trying to examine my wound. I gently kept her at bay, laughing it off. She looked unsure but she accepted my words. Wynne and Morrigan stared at me shrewdly, and made me promise to tell them if I felt anymore pain or if the affected area worsened. Once everything was agreed upon, we continued to the Dalish camp.

I definitely learned something about the Dalish: they do not feel much charity to humans. When we walked into their camp, we were quickly surrounded by angry elves with weapons. The elves that were supposed to be scouting had apparently done their job; they had warned the elves of our presence. I tried for diplomacy, stating that I was a Grey Warden and showing off the griffin symbol on my chest when they showed suspicion. The keeper, Zatharian, was still wary of us but he accepted our words as truth. I talked with him a bit, about the blight and the need for allies in this desperate time. I even flashed the treaties, in the hopes that the long-standing document would be respected. Zatharian sighed; he would have followed our wishes and the words of the treaty, but he was in no state to aid in anything; he could not even save his own people. When I questioned him, he wove a strange and unsettling story. Werewolves had been attacking the Dalish and infecting them with the virus. The bites themselves were painful and the attacks were often brutal. Once bit, the elves would writhe in pain for an untol amount of time while they transitioned. This was code for becoming a werewolf. Sadly, when the elves started to officially change, the keeper had no choice but to put the dogs down. I felt for the elves plight, and we really needed them as allies. But, could we really afford to postpone our mission and save them? Would the deed, though heroic and life-saving, take away too much precious time; time that we did not have?

The thought plagued me, and my moral side clashed with the logical part of me. However, in the end morality won out. I am a Grey Warden, and the job description states that I need to save. I needed allies, and I could not let innocents die while doing nothing to save them. Leliana shot me a proud smile, and the others were down with saving the others…except for Sten and Morrigan. Sten showed some concern over the task; well, as much concern as the Qunari was capable of showing in front of people. He thought it was foolish; after all, one of us could get hurt. But it was not hard to talk him into agreeing. Morrigan was not so easy. She did not want to risk any of our lives on something that might not even work. She had wanted us to go after Loghain immediately, and after his death go find allies. The rest were appalled by her apparent lack of compassion. I did not believe it for a second though. Morrigan's childhood was not exactly sunshine and love; Flementh could not have been a great mother, or a great influence. She was not really untouched by the elves plight; she was just looking at the big picture. I could not fault her for her logic, but I had to follow my heart. I told her this, and she finally agreed to go though she was displeased.

Zatharian looked grateful for our help. He told us the basics of what we needed to know; Lanaya, his "first", told us the details. There was something in Zatharian's eyes, however, that gave me pause. Some of his story just did not sound right to me, and I got the distinct impression that there was more to the story than we were being told. Still, I put it in the back of my mind. He would not catch me off guard, but I had lives to save. Such is the duty of a Warden. Among the task of killing Witherfang to save the infected elves, we were asked to gather some ironbark for the master craftsman, Varathorn. If we brought enough, he would make us something with the sturdy wood. Another elf, named Athras, recited a tragic tale with a hopefully happy ending, if we were able to find out whether his wife lived or was truly a werewolf. He believed that the keeper had lied to him and his wife had indeed transformed. He begged me to find anything out about her condition and tell him; of course I could not refuse. With the three tasks in mind, we readied ourselves to enter the inner sanctum of the haunted forest.

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Let me tell you, werewolves are not as cute and cuddly as their nicer, man's-best-friend counterparts. As soon as we walked through the first few trees (yes, they really don't play around), we were blocked by a small band of the furry beasts. The leader, called Swiftrunner, basically growled out an ultimatum; either leave and tell Zatharian we failed, or press on and we would basically be slaughtered like sleep. Yes, I thought it was lovely, too. I was polite with him and tried to defuse the situation, but apparently diplomacy and manners don't really mater when you have a disease that causes you to become a giant dog with anger issues. So I finally flat out told him I intended to kill Witherfang. So, in a rage, he and his buddies attacked us. Swiftrunner himself charged at me; leader vs. leader. I dodged his claws and threw my shield at him. The metal connected with his shoulder; he let out a howl of pain. I swung my blade at him but he sidestepped the blow. One paw shot out and his claws grazed my arm. Blood dripped down my arm, I could feel the heat as it rolled down and stained the grass. I swung out again and managed to clip his side, leaving a shallow cut. He bared his fangs at me and ran backwards. He stopped a few feet away and howled at his men, signaling the retreat. Before he left, he warned me that this was not over. If we continued to proceed, we would fall.

Leliana rushed over, checking me for injuries. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw how insignificant the cut was, but gasped as she saw my other arm. I was confused at her look of horror, before it dawned on me that she was looking at my spider bite. I glanced down and the sight I saw before me filled me with dread. The bite, once two little puncture wounds, had expanded wider. The skin was puffed up and small streams of pus streamed down, mixing with the blood from the werewolf cut. How the hell did this happen, I thought. This did not look like this an hour ago! Leli called Wynne over frantically, eyes panicked. The older mage rushed over, grasping my arm gently and examining it. Her face paled at the sight before her. The others gathered around the three of us, staring at the wound on my arm. My love asked Wynne what was happening to the bite, and the look on Wynne's face made my blood run cold. She opened her mouth, a soft exclamation coming out. She closed it again, clearing her throat loudly. Her eyes met mine; the fear was apparent in her gaze. She told me that the spider bite was poisonous, but not like any other poison she had seen. She basically said that the poison that had been injected in me was almost incurable; the only known cure for the rare occurrence was a certain chemical that could only be found in specific animals. Horses, a few species of birds…dogs. Some of their DNA mixed in with the bite would counteract the poison, saving my life. I needed either saliva or…defecation. We all know which one I picked, I believe. The search for the werewolves was now even more urgent than anticipated. If I did not find Witherfang, not only would countless elves change or die, I would also be food for the crows…or Darkspawn. My life just keeps getting better and better….

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Note: There is a clue somewhere in this story over the fate of our beloved Warden at the end of the final battle. I have made my decision; it is final and will be happening. Though Reyn's fate will be shown in Zevran's journal before this one. If you figure out the secret, please do not spoil it for others. Keep it to yourself, or PM me what you think. Again, please think of the other readers and do not speak out. Thank you all again, and see you soon!