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Rincewind was well and truly fed up.

For the last three days he had been running. According to his impeccable sense of direction, built up through years of exploring and escaping, he was heading eastwards. Bands of these monstrous creatures were all over the countryside. Every time he thought he had found somewhere to rest more of these things appeared and he would start running once more. Whatever they were their very presence seemed to be poisoning every living thing they came across. The Wizard was exhausted, soaked through thanks to persistent rain and his sustenance came from streams and the diminishing stack of increasingly soggy cheese sandwiches (his backpack wasn't waterproofed). The only signs of civilisation he had seen so far were burnt out farmsteads. He had carefully approached one to find anything of use only to discover ruins and the remains of the owners. They were human, which in all honesty was a slight relief to Rincewind. It meant there was intelligent, recognisable life in this world.

Well, recognisable anyway.

Night was now falling and Rincewind was looking for shelter, preferably of the warm variety but the forest he was currently in was looking rather sparse in terms of comfort.

A whooshing sound above him suddenly broke his concentration, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. His state of nerves did not improve when he looked up. The Moon was bright enough for him to see a silhouette, a very large, menacing one. Rincewind knew exactly what it looked like but decided it was best not to dwell on the name of the reptilian, fire breathing creature it resembled in the vague hope that was just a hunger related hallucination.

Five minutes of aimlessly wandering later another new sight greeted him, a campfire. This could, of course, be good or bad depending on the company. Rincewind's hunger and tiredness outweighed his caution and (justified) paranoia and he approached the clearing. There were four people; three women (the oldest of whom was fast asleep) and a man, all were dressed in simple, slightly ragged clothing. The man and one of the women were armed. Good enough he thought and stepped forward.

"Hello there, could I possibly join your camp for the night?" announced Rincewind, still not sure whether they shared a common language or not.

The people starred at him. They exchanged glances with each as though not quite sure what to make of him.

It can't be that strange a request The Wizard thought as the awkward silence continued. Perhaps they just don't understand me.

Eventually however the man's face split into a cocky looking grin. He was young, dark haired and bearded with twin daggers strapped to his back. A Rogue in every sense of the word was Rincewind's private assessment.

The fellow turned to the pretty dark haired girl next to him and quipped "Here I thought we'd run out of crazy mages this side of the sea. I think it must be something to do with wearing brightly coloured robes and hats."

Oh great thought Rincewind A rogue who has delusions of being witty.

The dark haired girl ignored the rogue and said a quiet and polite manner "You are welcome to join us sir, though I fear we have little to offer apart from the fire."

"That will still be an improvement, thank you. I'm Rincewind by the way." In the back of his mind Rincewind was wondering what the chances were that two completely separate worlds had identical native tongues. In the end he decided just to assume it was magic and leave it at that.

The Girl smiled and said "I'm Bethany, this is my brother Robert, my mother Leandra and this is our friend Aveline."

"A pleasure and a welcome change from those monsters that rampaging everywhere else." Replied the wizard as he sat down. The girl was very pretty he decided but given the proximity of the rest of her family and his dependence on their goodwill he kept the ogling to an appropriate minimum.

"The Darkspawn" stated Aveline, a tall, redheaded, muscular woman with a sword and shield next to her. "We have a full scale Blight on our hands hence why we're on the road." She sounded sad and bitter about it.

"A sensible decision" Agreed Rincewind "However I really don't know much about these Darkspawn or the Blight."

"Quite simple really" replied Robert in his flippant tone "the Darkspawn are ugly bastards who live underground and a Blight is when they come up for a good old fashioned rampage."

"Very helpful" Rincewind said, privately fantasying about smashing his face in with a book of after dinner speeches.

"The truth is we don't much about them" said Bethany in a far more helpful tone "From what I remember it's been centuries since the Darkspawn last came to the surface. With the king dead and half the army destroyed at Ostagar the nation is falling apart. The Grey Wardens were supposed to stop them with King but they all died as well."

"And the Grey Wardens are…"

"You really haven't heard of the Grey Wardens? Warriors of legend? Rode on mighty Griffins to stem the tide of evil?" asked Robert.

"I live…far away"

"Well you've picked a bad time for a visit" said Robert, stating the obvious.

Rincewind had a resigned look on his face. "I always do."

"Anyway the Grey Wardens are military order dedicated to defeating the Darkspawn but they are gone now" explained Bethany.

"Not all of them."

"Oh Robert! You haven't been listening to tavern gossip again! Remember what happened last time?" Scolded Bethany.

"Your impression of mother really has improved in the last couple of years."

"I heard the same thing" said Aveline, swiftly cutting into the sibling bickering "Two of the Wardens escaped and are gathering allies; apparently they helped save Redcliffe from a horde of walking dead."

Rincewind listened in silence, thinking hard. Two survivors, the last of their order wondering on a quest to save a kingdom… come on Rincewind where else would the chest be?

"In that case I need to find these Wardens" Rincewind concluded, thinking aloud.

The others stared at him eventually it was Bethany who asked what everyone else was thinking (apart from questioning his sanity) why?

"Because I willing to bet everything I have that these Wardens have what I'm looking for and I must get it back before I can go home."

"What is it you are looking for? And why are you so certain that it we'll be with the Grey Wardens?" asked Bethany, looking increasing concerned.

"It's my walking luggage and it's constantly ending up in dangerous adventures. Call it narrative convention" explained Rincewind in a completely nonchalant manner.

The two women kept staring, Robert burst out laughing.

"That's brilliant, really it is, you should try becoming a bard. You've got the imagination for it."

Rincewind looked rather annoyed Robert's laughter and said "I take it wooden luggage trunks that can walk are rather rare here."

"You…you could say that yes" stammered Bethany.

"Well at least that there'll be no chance of getting the wrong chest." Rincewind was desperately trying to find a positive in what was looking to be a yet another longwinded and dangerous task.

"That's true, do all the mages in your homeland have such…creations and are you allowed to travel freely?" asked Bethany looking slightly wistful.

"In my city I'm the only one, I acquired from…well its' a long story, probably make a couple of books if I wrote it down." Rincewind felt almost nostalgic for that particular set of death defying events, before the second part of Bethany's question hit him.

"What do you mean am I allowed to travel freely?"

Bethany and Robert exchanged glances, for the first time that evening the damnable rogue looked serious.

"Well there are probably a few other things you should be aware of…"

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The Lady of the Forest could still be surprised, even after all these centuries. When the Werewolves first reported that Zathrian had sent another group into the forest she expected more Dalish. The first attempt had been by Dalish hunters, most of who ended in becoming Werewolves themselves. The only surprise about a second group approaching was that the Dalish had enough Hunters left to do so. Instead however the Keeper had got outside help. At first those victims she had helped were angry. Another sign that Zathrian would not give back lives he had so blindly and callously destroyed. Even worse this new group was strong. Strong enough to carve a bloody path through everything the forest had thrown at them. That anger only got worse, and was now mixed with some fear, when their forest barrier was passed through, seemingly with the help of the Grand Oak. For the Lady (who was familiar the Oak and had had many interesting conversations and poetry contests with him in her much younger days) however this was a hopeful sign, these strangers could negotiate as well as fight. The great wolf Witherfang had seen this party with his own eyes. It was led by a Dwarf. The Lady hadn't really had any dealings with the Children of the Stone, not many came through the forest and none stayed for any length of time. She would just have to do her best, for the sake of all those she was trying to save, and hope that this leader had wisdom and compassion.

But there was something else. The wooden creature that came with these outsiders; was it a spirit like her, stuck in the material world? Her duty came first however; when the strangers arrived she told them everything. How Zathrian, grief stricken at the loss of his son and daughter unleashed the Werewolf curse on innocent and guilty alike. How herself and Witherfang were created to spread the curse and how she had tried to aid those who fallen regain their minds. The dwarf was diplomatic and asked questions but remained unreadable; his allies were far less guarded. Some were angry at being used by Zathrian, others saddened by the tale of loss that caused this curse. The dwarf however had final say and agreed the bring Zathrian to them and end this, one way or another.

When they returned the ancient keeper had joined them. The Dwarf had managed to convince Zathrian to talk but it was clear that his vengeance was still all consuming. When she revealed he used blood magic to create the curse and simultaneously preserve his own life the Warden's group was again a myriad of different expressions. The blonde human Warden looked ready to draw his sword and slay Zathrian as soon as the words 'blood mage' were mentioned. The dark haired witch looked contemptuously at the Keeper; the foreign elf seemed to be emptying a small vial onto both his weapons. The dwarf kept calm but his eyes narrowed and asked Zathrian just how far he was willing to go for revenge. But it didn't change anything. The lady felt Witherfang stir as fight seemed inevitable, the Dalish Keeper strode towards the doorway drawing his staff…and was then swallowed whole.

The luggage let out a thunderous belch before trotting back the Dwarf's side. There was uproar.

"You fools!" Howled the largest werewolf, "he did not break the curse! We will remain like this forever! Tear these creatures apart!"

"Oh sod" muttered the dwarf.

"Wait!" said the human Warden "He might still be alive, it does return things sometimes!"

"Clean socks and cooking equipment are hardly the same as an ancient Dalish blood mage" hissed the Witch in an undertone the human warden.

The Lady's despair was almost total. She had failed, but, if Zathrian could be…returned.

She walked forward and knelt down on one knee level with the wooden chest, who had been growling the Werewolves as the yelling continued around them.

"Please creature, return Zathrian to us we need him alive." The wooden chest had stopped growling but its' body language seemed sulky. "Please" implored the Lady patting the Luggage gently on the lid.

It may have been a trick of the light but Luggage seemed to have developed a red tinge. Nevertheless the Chest opened and Zathrian fell onto the floor in a crumpled heap. He was in tattered robes, covered in saliva and his staff was missing but he was alive.

"Thank you my friend" said the Lady of the Forest and kissed the Luggage softly on the lid.

The Luggage's apparent red colour had got noticeably brighter.

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It was done. Zathrian and the Lady of the Forest had sacrificed themselves to break the curse. The magic was broken and the werewolves had become people once more. At Alistair's suggestion most of the humans headed towards Redcliffe, after they found some clothes and weapons. A few of the wolves had been part of Zathrian's clan and agreed to travel back to their people, with the Keeper's body in tow.

"Whatever his mistakes he must be returned to the clan for his funeral" Said one of the Dalish, "though we will have to clean the drool off him first."

The Luggage was still a bit annoyed about losing a perfectly good meal, but it was also sad. As the group left the overgrown chamber the Luggage briefly turned to where the Lady last stood, before slowly walking away.

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