(I try to stay light on directly copying the in-game dialogue... but I love this scene so much that I just had to keep it mostly intact. Certain characters may have succumbed to a bit of MST3K-esque snarking, though. :) )

24. Enter: the Witch

By Kazar's reckoning, being recruited into the Grey Wardens was, by a far margin, the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Kazar laughed as he felt an arrow fly past his ear. Turning, he sent a volley of thunderbolts out at the darkspawn archer who had dared to target him, the mage chortling in delight as the creature shrieked and blackened into a charred husk under the onslaught.

It was freedom. It was power. It was… so amazingly wonderful to finally let loose, just the way he'd always wanted. The scent of burned flesh surrounded them, and it brought a satisfied smile to Kazar's face to know that he had put that smell there. This was what he was made for! This was what he was meant to do!

He laughed again as he rained fire down upon the darkspawn alpha. Alistair stumbled back as he got caught in the blast, since he'd been engaging said alpha.

Alistair turned a glare back at Kazar. "Hey, watch it!"

"Too hot for you, Templar?" Kazar laughed gleefully, then swept out a hand and encased a stream of approaching darkspawn in ice. He then made a game out of blasting each to bits with lightning in the most spectacular way possible.

He couldn't imagine how other people lived without magic. He certainly didn't know how he had, locked up in the Chantry's cage for so long. Let Knight-Commander Greagoir try to Tranquil him now!

Finally, much to Kazar's disappointment, the darkspawn attack ebbed. Finian killed the last genlock with a double stab to the back, and all that they were left with was the sound of frogs and their own heavy breathing.

Alistair stomped over to Kazar. He looked furious, and his face was now red and blistered in patches, which only heightened Kazar's elation. "What was that? You blasted me, you little creep!"

Kazar couldn't seem to stop grinning. "No, I blasted the alpha. You just got in the way." He felt his grin morph into a smirk. "What's the matter: your Templar training can't stand up to a little bitty fireball?"

"There was nothing little or bitty about that thing! What were you thinking, firing into melee?!"

The others were gathering around the two of them. "Remind me never to get on that elf's bad side," Kazar heard Daveth whisper. It was a sentiment Kazar could appreciate.

Marnan stepped between Alistair and Kazar, scowling her disapproval at both like an enchanter scolding unruly apprentices. "It does not help us to fight amongst ourselves."

"Right," Alistair said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'll just ignore the blatant attack against my person. That sounds like an excellent idea."

Kazar laughed. "I've told you before, Templar. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd already be a charred husk by now."

Alistair paused, looking around that the corpses nearby. Nearly half of them had been dispatched by Kazar's spells, and showed it. "You know, I'm starting to believe that."

Kazar just smirked and pushed past the Templar. He could still feel the magic singing through his veins, and it made him want to dance with it. Alas, they were in the ruin's shadow, so it wasn't likely any more of the creatures were lurking about. More's the pity.

"Mm, old ruins," Garott said as the group started up the hill toward the archive. "Always good for a little scavenging." The dwarf smirked and shifted the kit on his back. Kazar had seen a number of things disappear into that pack out here… but never anything of any apparent use. A bit of wood here, a leaf there. Either the dwarf suffered from some kind of strange compulsion, or he saw uses for random junk that others did not.

"You don't suppose we'll know the scrolls when we see them, do you?" Daveth asked. He had a fresh scratch across his face where a darkspawn had gotten him. Kazar was glad he hadn't taken any damage himself. Without the Amell woman here—annoying twit though she was—any wounds they collected had to make do with only a quick poultice application for healing.

"They'll bear the Grey Warden crest, I suppose," Alistair said.

"The Grey Warden crest?" Finian said teasingly. "In an old Grey Warden archive? Shouldn't be hard to spot then. I'm sure the scrolls will be the only Grey Warden items in the Grey Warden archive."

"Ooh… good point." Alistair sighed. "I suppose we're going to have to do a bit of digging around, then."

And that's what they did. When they reached the ruin, they found it caved in and tumbled, rubble covering almost everything. Admittedly, earth had never been Kazar's strongest element, but between him magically breaking through the rocks and Garott rigging up a pulley to clear the debris away, they managed to unearth a wall of what had once been shelves. Finian started digging through that while the rest of them continued clearing the debris.

Finian worked down the lines of shelves. Occasionally, something would clink or clatter as he found an object of interest and tossed it on the growing pile… an old knife, a pot, a stamp, something that may have been a letter opener… but no scrolls, as of yet.

Kazar blasted apart another rock, making the attached wall of rubble come tumbling down nearly on top of him. He jumped back, and looked up to see that the fall of rocks had revealed a staircase heading up behind it.

Sitting on it, watching them, was a woman.

"Well, well," she said silkily. "What have we here?"

Behind him, Kazar could hear weapons being drawn, and something that sounded like Finian hitting his head on something (complete with a soft yelp). Kazar didn't do much of anything, transfixed as she stood and made her way smoothly down the stairs.

Kazar may have been a mage, but he was also a healthy, hot-blooded young man. And this woman was not wearing a shirt. Well, sure, that drapery thing she had may have been counted as a covering… technically… but there was far more skin than not.

"Are you vultures, I wonder?" the woman continued, reaching the bottom of the steps. "Scavengers, poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely intruders, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" She rounded the curve of the rubble pile, turning to face them with arms crossed under her bosom. It was… distracting. "What say you? Scavengers or intruders?"

"We are neither," Marnan's voice spoke up sternly.

There was a low rumbling chuckle. "Speak for yourself, princess."

"We're Grey Wardens," Finian said quickly, coming forward to stand in front, next to Kazar. He was rubbing his head. "From what I understand, the Wardens once owned this tower, so we can't really scavenge or intrude."

"The Grey Wardens have long since left," said the woman. "Invoke a name that means nothing here if you must; it means little to me." The woman started walking, moving around the group. Some might say prowling around them. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered. 'Why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long." She stopped and stood at a window, so that the afternoon light touched her skin just so. "Why is that?"

"Nobody answer her," Alistair whispered. "She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."

The woman made an amused sound. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"

"Yes… swooping is bad…"

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is," Daveth said, looking more nervous now than he'd been when facing down darkspawn. "She'll turn us into toads!"

"An apostate?" Kazar said, now staring at the woman for a reason other than to appreciate her ample bare skin. Yes, she did have that certain… carriage… that defined a mage who was assured of their own power. Also, a staff. It was mostly the staff that gave it away.

"A Witch of the Wilds?" The woman leaned against the stone and looked over them, obviously amused. "Such idle fancies, those old legends."

"Notice she doesn't deny it," Garott said with amusement.

"How have you escaped the Tower for so long?" Kazar found himself asking. He was fascinated by the discovery of her… this was a mage who was every bit as free of the Chantry as he was! "You must be powerful. Or very clever. How did you do it?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Sense I more than casual curiosity in your questions? No matter." She raised her head to Percival, who stood in the back with sword still drawn. "You there. You have not yet spoken. Have you a mind of your own? What are your thoughts?"

Percival's gaze was steady and heated, full of suspicion as he regarded her. Kazar was honestly surprised when the man actually answered. "I think you're toying with us."

The witch laughed. "Toying with you, am I? Nay, but I am merely a curious local, come to investigate the home intrusion that you committed." She turned to Marnan, pushing off from the wall. "You. Women do no frighten like little boys. Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine."

The dwarf's lips pinched, but she nonetheless nodded her head in greeting. "I am Marnan. A pleasure to meet you."

The witch paused in surprise. "Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds." She looked over all of them. "You may call me Morrigan."

One by one, the party gave their names, though Alistair and Daveth seemed reluctant to do so. Kazar would have laughed at their superstitions, if he hadn't been so rapt on watching the witch.

"Shall I guess your purpose?" Morrigan continued when introductions were done. "You sought something in this ruin? Something that is here no longer?"

"'Here no longer'?" Alistair advanced a couple steps, hand going to the pommel of his sword. "You stole them, didn't you? You're… some kind of sneaky…witch-thief!"

"Smooth," Kazar deadpanned.

"How does one steal from dead men?" the witch posited.

Garott chuckled. "Quite easily, actually."

"Those documents are Grey Warden property," Alistair pressed, showing a bit of spine, for once. "I suggest you return them."

"I will not," Morrigan said sharply, "for 'twas not I who removed them!"

"Then who did?" Finian asked politely, as if they were having a discussion about the weather over tea.

Morrigan balked a bit, apparently caught off guard. "'Twas my mother, in fact."

"So she's the daughter of a sneaky witch thief," Garott said.

"Your mother?" Finian asked. "Can you take us to her?"

"Hm." Morrigan studied Finian, and Kazar was surprised by how sharp her eyes could be. Like a bird's. "Now there is a sensible request. I like you."

"I'd be careful," Alistair whispered. "First it's 'I like you…' Then zap! Frog time."

Kazar cast an incredulous look back at the blond. "Who in the Fade taught you about magic, Templar? Because they obviously need to be fired."

"Mean that literally, do you?" Alistair sneered back.

"Very well, Morrigan," Marnan said diplomatically. "Lead on, and we will follow."

"If it pleases you." She turned and disappeared into the rushes, and the group slowly moved to follow after.

Percival, Kazar noticed, had still not put his sword away.