11111

Rincewind was close, the machine that went ding pointed to this mountain. It had taken over a week to get here from the lakeside. In spite of the foul weather, ragged clothes, limited food supply and the constant fear of bandits or worse the destination was in sight.

Nevertheless the same thought had gone through the Wizard's mind for the last couple of days. The Luggage better be here after I climbed this far or I won't rest until I find Ponder and beat him to death with his wretched device.

As he passed through the merchant's encampment outside Orzammar's mighty entrance Rincewind briefly wondered why business was so slow and why the traders looked so disgruntled. He would find out shortly but for now the wizard remained in blissful ignorance, well by his standards anyway.

Once he arrived in front of the gates the faint hope that this ridiculous quest would soon be over quickly evaporated.

"Hello there," said Rincewind to the captain of the gate guards in his friendliest tone. "I was wondering if I could enter the…"

"No"

"If it's a question of money I…"

"No"

"Isn't there any way for…"

"No"

"Why?"

At last the irate guard gave a longer answer.

"The king is dead, until there's a new one no visitors." The guard paused and mumbled as an afterthought. "Unless you're a Grey Warden I suppose."

"Grey Warden? Did they come here and did they have a walking wooden chest, with them?"

"Yeah a couple of them arrived a week ago, trying to sort out the King business so we can fight the Darkspawn. They had that chest with them, it ate an annoying human."

"Some things never change," murmured Rincewind "So now can I go in?"

"No"

"But…"

"Are you a Grey Warden with a treaty?"

"Well, no…"

Rincewind stopped as he noticed the guard running his finger along a sharpened axe. At this point he decided to fall back on his all purpose contingency plan.

"Fine, where the nearest pub?"

"That'll be the Blinding Sun, down the road on the left."

"Thanks"

11111

So after all the trouble of clearing out the Carta and facing his oldest friend Odin still wasn't done. Bhelen had indeed been pleased by the neutralisation of the Carta but the assembly was still deadlocked. The only remaining way of breaking it, apart from a civil war, was the word of a Paragon. Odin knew that the only one was Branka, who left the city with her entire house two years ago bound for the deep roads. No one had heard from them since.

If Odin didn't know better he could've sworn Bhelen was trying to get rid of him. The only consolation in all this was that he got to visit his family in their new home. Thankfully the rest of his group stayed back while he spoke.

Rica was naturally sympathetic, "Bhelen told me you're going into the Deep Roads to look for Branka. Be Careful. I know you're a Warden now, but to me you'll always be that little boy toddling around and pulling up on door handles."

Odin hoped that the rest of his group did not hear that last bit. Or worse the conversation would descend into embarrassing stories from his childhood. So he changed course to the only other subject on his mind.

"First the Carta and now the Deep Roads, there's no rest for the wicked. Still the Roads will be easier in one way; no friends standing against me." Odin looked thoughtful and rather tired. "Leske betrayed me to Jarvia. I knew it was coming but it was still depressing. I let him go in the end and I've no idea whether that was a good move or not."

Rica had never particularly liked Leske but was kind all the same. "I… thought that might happen. I'm sorry. I know you two had fun together, but Leske… never your strength. If Jarvia leaned on him, he would've bent to whatever she wanted. That's how he stayed in with Beraht. But don't dwell on it. One moment's distraction and the Deep Roads could kill you."

"You're right of course," agreed Odin. "This will be difficult enough without those kinds of thoughts."

Rica smiled, "You never did shy away from danger, did you? I know you'll be fine. And you'll come home with Branka, and put my Bhelen on the throne, and we'll all live together in the Palace! Back in Dust town could you ever imagined saying that?"

"It's strange alright. Once I get back we'll have time to catch up. I'll get to finally meet my nephew and you'll be able to meet my ragtag band of friends properly."

"One more thing before you go, are you going to see mother?"

Odin's face for a brief instant looked like a sulky teenager.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes"

"Fine"

Sure enough Odin went to the room next door and there was his mother, drinking. Once again the group stayed outside and hopefully out of Earshot.

His mother squinted at him as he approached. "Well look at you all fancied up. Find some new crime boss to crack skulls for?"

"I've missed you to," said Odin in his most sarcastic tone.

"Why would I miss you?" she ranted "What did you ever do but make me fat and old and ugly? Running off to the surface, just like you're father, never thought to share a little of that fortune with your mother?"

"May I be the one to point out that you're living in the Royal Palace?"

She simply snorted at that. "I've seen how they look at me. They think I'm gutter trash. Not one of them would let me set foot in here if it wasn't for Rica! Precious Rica and her precious little brat! If he chokes on that golden rattle, we'd both be on the streets!

Odin looked around, taking in the numerous empty and half empty bottles. "I take it you found the palace booze stash?"

"Heh, know what they keep up here? They got wine from the surface, ale, brandy… They got a whole room full of it. And nobody's going to stop me taking it, because I'm the brat's grandmother."

Odin stared at her.

"You think I don't have the right to be happy? You think I don't deserve what everyone else has? You think you deserve them fancy clothes? You're never going to be nothing but Dust Town. Just like me."

"Well, good to see you, I'm off to do a deadly mission. Don't wait up."

Odin left the room and the group mostly stayed politely silent once they saw the look on his face.

"We have more in common than I realised." Morrigan whispered to him.

"Lucky us," replied Odin, "We better get moving, the endless Darkspawn infested tunnels are waiting."

11111

Cohen the Barbarian looked around. A mountain with a small tranquil looking village, to most people would look like a nice peaceful place. Cohen was not one of those people; he was bloody suspicious and was already compiling a mental list of potential threats. The old warrior landed with three possessions, a sword, his firmly secured loincloth (to everyone's relief) and his dentures. Said dentures had fallen out and had to be wiped clean of mud and bits of twig. Even in filth however the dentures, made of diamond, were magnificent and had tempted more than a few bandits over the years to make a fatal mistake.

The wizards had assured him that Rincewind would be nearby but when he asked what their exact definition of 'nearby' they had been typically vague and mysterious. Still he had been in tighter spots; the garden he had landed in was quite pleasant and even had an uncovered well in it. Alas the tranquillity was not to last. His sudden appearance had attracted attention; women and children stared at him from windows while a group of five armed men approached. It was the leader of this group that spoke, or rather shouted, first.

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE DOING IN OUR VILLAGE?"

Cohen looked at the man straight in the eye. The man facing him had a large beard, a large two handed axe and an expression that suggested dangerously unhinged anger.

"Me? Just passhin through, I don't shupposhe you've sheen a wisshard and a walking wooden chest come through here?" The ninety-something's face was a picture of innocence as he lisped his explanation.

"WHAT NONSENSE IS THIS?" said the leader, and then realisation struck. "I KNOW WHY YOU'RE HERE! YOU HAVE COME TO CLAIM THE ASHES LIKE THAT OTHER OLD FOOL, WELL KNOW THIS! I, GERARD KOLGRIM, AM THE LEADER OF THE TRUE FOLLOWERS OF ANDRASTE AND WE WILL NOT ALLOW YOU INTO OUR SCARED MOUNTAIN TEMPLE!"

Cohen did look in the least bit intimidated by this, "Look, Kolgrim wassh it? I have no interesht in your temple. I'm jusht here to find two losht fellowsh from my world."

"A LIKELY TALE!" said Kolgrim, "BUT I WILL NOT FALL FOR IT! TAKE HIM TO THE CELLS!"

Cohen drew his sword and backed himself against the side of the well. "You're welcome to try but it would be madesssh."

"MADNESS? THIS IS HAVEN!" Bellowed Kolgirm, which was loud even by his standards. The thoroughly enraged axe man surged forward, planning to kick the antiquarian warrior into the well.

Unfortunately for him Cohen was far more agile than most men in their nineties and he dodged the boot leaving the angry cult leader to lose his balance and plunge into the watery abyss.

"AAARRRGGGHHHHH!"

Cohen looked at the remaining fighters.

"Well," announced Cohen, enjoying the pun he had just made, "Whoshe next?"

11111

Well it appears no one guessed correctly but there again I'm glad it wasn't completely obvious. The saga goes on.