Gryphon Keep
Levi meets you at the mouth of the abandoned mining complex at the base of Soldier's peak. He is dressed in heavy clothing, with fur lining that shields him from the cold. You are grateful for your mother's cloak, as your breath mists before you.
"It's just you?" He asks, nervously.
"That is correct," You reply, "If all we need fear are demons and the spirits of the long dead, I am more than capable of facing them alone."
"You sure you don't want to wait until later?" Levi asks once more, "I've been talking to Duncan, and he's interested in helping. He couldn't make it, he's on official Warden business."
"I do not have the time to wait for Duncan," You state.
Your tone clearly conveys that the matter is not up for discussion and Levi begins to lead you through the maze of tunnels.
The journey is long, and winding. Levi gets lost a few times, due to water dropping onto the map he is using. For your part, you are of little help, though you cannot help but wonder what a casar might have to say about this mine.
Eventually, despite the map's deficiencies, you emerge from the mining tunnels and into the chill wind of the mountain peak. Above you can see the fortress rising from atop the cliffs - tall walls and round towers of a design you are unfamiliar with.
"Maker's breath, look at the size of her!" Levi says besides you, "What a fortress."
"It speaks well of its builders," You state in agreement.
You have seen stronger and grander fortresses admittedly, but those were eldar or casarillië made. For men, this fortress is an achievement, and it is truly a credit to those who built it.
The two of you ascend the winding path as it slowly gives way to snow covered stairs. Dryden gapes at the walls as they grow closer, and wanders through the open gate open mouthed.
Your attention is elsewhere. While there is a part of you that reflexively notes the thickness of the walls and that the portcullis is raised but not damaged, the greater part of you is consumed by your other senses.
Darkness shrouds the fortress, unobtrusive from a distance, but here on the threshold the sensation is overpowering. It reminds you of Brecilian when you first arrived.
Too late you reach out to Levi, "Wait!"
Levi's foot crosses the threshold, and the world turns white.
"Fall back! Fall back already!" A heavily armoured man commands
All about you soldiers run away from the keep, bodies piled high before the entrance.
"Taking the peak will not be easy my lord," An adjutant observes.
"I gave the Wardens one chance to die with honour. Instead, they hole up like cowards. We follow the king's advice, then. Starve them out," The noble orders.
A loose circle of soldiers in the heraldry of Denerim looks on, and in the distance you can see flashes of blades and the bright red spray of blood.
"But the keep has months of supplies," The adjutant protests.
"Then we wait," The noble says, gesturing, "When they are too weak to hold their weapons, we will send them to their final judgement."
The vision comes to a sudden end. Your senses extend swiftly, seeking for hidden traps of manipulation. Immediately you sense the dark power swirling, disturbed by your arrival. Some will takes notice of you, and its thoughts bend towards your doom.
Levi interrupts your thoughts, "What was that? Felt a bit woozy there. Did you see that too?"
"The Veil is thin here, some calamity has sundered it," You reply distractedly, "Visions of what once was now linger as they tend to in the Beyond."
"How is that possible?" Levi asks.
You pay him no heed, drawing your sword, "Behind me. They come."
The darkness surges and corpses of the dead rise.
The skeletons are swifter than you expect, and the first nearly catches you unawares. As it springs upright from beneath your feet, it is only reflexes honed in the War of the Jewels [1] that sees you avoid it. Your own blade lashes out in time with the Light of Valinor, and the corpse is sundered in two.
Beyond the initial surprise there is little true danger to you. The skeletons wield weapons and armour long rusted by the elements. Few manage to withstand the light, whatever spirit animates them deeming the effort too great. Those who do dare face you are quickly granted a true death.
Curiously, few attempt to harm Levi, whether because he is the less dangerous or because they are driven by hate for your kind. You choose not to question it, as it makes protecting the merchant easier.
When the last skeleton falls, Levi speaks.
"What… What was that?" He asks.
You look over your shoulder, "That would be the haunting you mentioned, something dark infests this place. I suspect we will need to see it's end ere we can safely peruse the archives."
Levi is taken aback, and stammers, "That's, that's not what I mean. That, that THING you just did. It was like, like you were some sort of spirit or something."
"The Light of Aman shines in those who have stood upon its shores, or, if you believe some of the more eccentric Vanyar, those who meet the Ainur," You explain offhandedly, your attention focused on the dark will watching you.
"I… what?" Levi asks.
"We have not the time for philosophy; we must find our foe before it finds an angle of attack we cannot defend against," You grip the man by the arm and drag him towards the keep.
The door you pass through is open and undamaged. This was strange when you first arrived, and stranger still as a remnant of a siege. You find yourself reflexively checking behind you, expecting a trap.
Within the entrance another vision plays. The former Warden-Commander, Sophia Dryden, rallies her men at the end of the siege. Levi is amazed, but you have heard better. You would not have waited until hunger stole the strength of your warriors before you made your sally.
There is a document on the wall, claiming to oppose a 'tyrant' and listing the fallen. Here you pause, wondering how many of the skeletons you cut down were once the Atani on this list.
Carefully you search the first floor, dispatching more skeletons. A few times you feel the veil ripple and shudder, and you throw your will behind it. The strength of your resolve stiffens the barrier enough that whatever was attempting to emerge is denied access.
You get a sneaking suspicion that something has noted your passage and chosen to lay low, but you lack evidence to confirm that hunch.
On the first floor you find a room filled with shelves and the remnants of books. A cursory examination reveals nothing of use, though Levi finds one detailing the defence of the fortress on the eve of its fall and eagerly consumes it. For a short time his eyes go blank.
Before you have time to act, he snaps out of the vision and says, "I… no, there must be more."
He flips through the book, but time and damp have ruined it, and you can tell he finds nothing he was looking for.
The second floor grants another vision, this time of the Warden-Commander and her pet mage losing control of the demons they had been summoning.
"I suppose that answers the question about the thinness of the Veil," You observe as it ends.
Frankly the people of this land are far too quick to weaponize something so obviously dark and uncontrollable. Frankly you are amazed anyone survives their wars.
"My ancestor wouldn't have summoned demons. She was a hero. She wouldn't," Levi says desperately.
"Dire straits can drive even the noblest to actions they consider abhorrent, especially if they believe themselves to be doing the right thing," You reply tiredly, "Come, I see the Commander's office, hopefully that will have something."
When you enter the office, you immediately are hit by the twisting wrongness that you associate with demons. Before you a woman's corpse stands as though alive, a twisted all-consuming sense of Pride emanating from her.
"Step no further, Knowledge," It says, twisting to face you, "This one would parley."
The small room is filled with the stench of decay, and the dark twisted sensation lies heavily upon it. Silence hangs heavy in the air as you stare at the corpse puppet, considering your options.
Bargaining with spirits is possible, and you have done it before. Behind you, Levi seems torn between his desire to interrogate his ancestor and his fear of the demon within. There is an argument to be made for peaceful communication with the spirit before you. Only one factor prevents you from taking this usually reasonable decision.
'This one' as it calls itself is clearly a demon.
"Tell me, creature, why should I parley with you?" You ask, drawn sword not yet raised but ready.
"Because this peak is mine," It responds. "This one is the Dryden, Commander, Sophia. All these things."
The creature laughs. Your sword raises to point at the Warden Commander's chest. All thoughts of negotiation, of parley are swept away by ice cold rage.
"Your offer of parley," You say, "Is refused."
The demon has in its hold a Child of Eru. That, you will not let stand.
In desperate hope that there might yet remain some fragment of the woman Sophia once was still in her body you strike. Not with your blade, but with the concentrated might inherited from Fëanáro.
As before, when you did something similar for Calaternén, you find yourself swept up in metaphor as a struggle of mind and will begins. Pride, for example, appears as a cloud of shadows, shifting from the shape of Sophia to a vast mountain of flesh crowned by two huge horns. Idly, you wonder if this is due to the nature of demons, or if it is something more fundamental to the contest at hand.
Your distraction costs you, a tendril of self-absorbed-pride-to-the-point-of-hubris finding purchase within.
'A son of Fëanáro deserves better than what I have,' PrideYou think, 'It would be so simple to take it.'
'The eldest has a duty,' You remind PrideYourself.
A Noldorin woman says, 'Maitimo, you will be an older brother soon…'
'I don't need them! I'm better than they are, and they only hold me back!' PrideYou think.
Something about that thought is wrong. It does not belong.
'I love them,' You say.
Your brothers play in Tirion, running through streets and climbing trees. You were always there, either at their head or nearby.
'Think of what we could do together,' Pride begs.
It is too late; with a twitch of your will, the link to Pride snapping like a twig. Your mind is yours alone once more.
The demon is shocked by the rejection, another interesting reaction that could distract you, if you let it.
Fortunately, you are not one to make the same mistake twice, one notable exception aside. You glance around for the metaphorical 'bindings' that prevent the demon from being snatched away to its home.
Rather than finding the remnants of Sophia tying the demon, instead the sickly purple chains link from the vaguely troll shaped shadow of Pride to the 'walls' around you.
Slivers of the Light of Valinor spring to disconnect these bonds, as a cloud of knives flying in all directions. The mass of shadows loses all coherent shape as it rushes to halt them all, yet whenever it succeeds it recoils in pain, giving others time to free themselves.
Swiftly realising that it has no hope on the defensive, claws of hubris and arrogance scrape against you. Through gritted teeth you endure, even as your thoughts begin to blur once more, leaving you uncertain if it is you or Pride who feels that victory is certain.
Through it all you repeat, 'No, I refuse, you cannot have me. I will resist until I die.'
What once seemed a deep cave now looms above the dread realm of Angband, as the highest peak of Thrangodrim. Here two wills strive and heave. At first, the advantage is Pride's, bolstered by the arrogance within you.
Yet slowly, you gain the upper hand. Dogged resistance, a refusal to yield and the burning Light of Valinor wear away at Pride's strength, until all the demon can muster in defence of its last connection is a misty haze.
'Please,' It begs, 'I just want to see the grass.'
The connection snaps with an echoing finality.
As the shadows flee, you finally find the remnants of Sophia. A single drifting ember of will lies within your grasp.
Quietly, plaintively Sophia asks, 'Avernus?'
Then the ember goes out.
A bone deep weariness settles upon you. You let your blade drop, gazing at the body of the Warden Commander lying on the floor.
"Great grandmother?" Levi asks, swallowing nervously, "She, was she still alive? Well, I guess she wasn't really alive, but you know."
"In the loosest possible sense of the word she could be considered alive," You sigh, "Forgive me. I had hoped… It does not matter."
You take a moment of silence for the dead.
"Tell me, how do humans of this land typically bury their dead?" You ask, when you deem sufficient time has passed.
Levi starts slightly, then shakes himself, "Well, here we burn our dead on pyres. but that's really a question for the Chantry, there's prayers and rites and stuff and I don't remember them all, Besides, we've plenty of bodies to burn, and best to do that when the Grey Wardens arrive.."
It sits ill with you, the desire to bury the woman you could not save nagging at your thoughts, or burn in this case, as much as that particular funerary rite makes you uncomfortable. Despite these complex feelings, you nod and move on with Levi.
Further exploration of the fortress' second level reveals a bridge to a second tower guarded by traps and yet more skeletons. Neither of these pose any particular problem for you, easily visible on bare stone; one would have to blind to miss them.
Entering the tower itself, a pungent smell hits you immediately. Made stale by the extended absence of any breeze, there is an odour of potions and ozone. More importantly this room is filled with books, unruined by time.
Levi and you are equally swift to begin searching through them. Levi's face blanches as he begins to read out a log of experiments on the Wardens by 'Avernus', who has appeared in the visions several times now. Your stomach turns to think of what torments his 'subjects' may have suffered.
For your part, the notes you find detail some of the mage's thoughts on the taint. Your eyes widen in horror as you read. Wardens take the taint within themselves? It slowly erodes away at them?
Your horror almost drowns out the triumph you feel when you see mentions of the call to the 'Black City', a definitive link between the darkspawn and the legend of the Magisters Sidereal.
You try to calm your racing thoughts running around in circles. Are the wardens some kind of sleeper agent? Then why has no Blight succeeded? Is the Maker truly behind the Blight, and if so, why? Have you travelled across the Everlasting Darkness only to arrive in the same situation as the Siege of Angband?
You hear a curse, see a glint from the corner of your eye then your hand lashes out reflexively to catch a falling bottle. Jolted from your thoughts, you look at Levi who is rubbing his head sheepishly.
"Sorry, the notes mentioned an alchemical solution, and I wanted to look at it. Fumbled it, though," He apologises.
You look at the bottle in your hand, "What is it?"
"Some kind of solution to increase the power of the wardens," Levi says, "I don't really understand what it's talking about."
Cautiously you attempt to ascertain the content's nature. Detecting nothing out of the ordinary, merely a herbal brew not unusual among potions, you weigh your options.
You make your decision and tell Levi, "Help me gather these notes. They are what I am searching for."
"You sure?" Levi asks, "This seems like Warden business and they're probably going to want them back."
You conceal a wince, feeling the need to justify yourself you say, "If they wish to have the books, I am more than willing to return them when I am finished with them."
The two of you collect the books, gathering them in your cloak for lack of better options, having foolishly left your saddlebags with Orundómë outside the mines. A decision you are now regretting.
With your bundle of books, you enter the last room you have to search. Inside you find a large room dedicated to various bits of alchemical and magical paraphernalia and an aged human leaning over a table with yet more books.
"I hear you… Don't disrupt my concentration," A familiar voice calls as you enter.
"Men do not typically live beyond the span of a century," You call out in response, "What guarantee do you offer that I speak to Avernus, mage of the Wardens rather than something whose concentration I very much want to disrupt?"
"Ah, met Sophia have you? My longevity may share a source with hers, but I assure you my mind and volition are intact," The mage replies.
He does seem free of demons, yet there is something about him that reeks of darkness, "Words are cheap, I asked for a guarantee."
"Oh? And why should I trust you?" Avernus replies, unafraid, "You are certainly no Warden, and I doubt any other is foolish enough to dare try to retake this castle."
"I am not the one steeped in darkness, self-confessed to consort with demons and a torturer of those who placed their trust in me," You reply coolly.
Avernus scoffs, "I wouldn't have thought a spirit would be so close-minded. Tell me, is that a Templar you're possessing, Knowledge?"
"I am no spirit, though many mistake me for one," You hiss, "I begin to wonder if there is truly any difference between the mage called Avernus and a possessed being, for both seem to have sold themselves to the darkness."
The Warden mage sneers, "Another small minded zealot dismissing my research for no meaningful reason. I have not the patience for your bleating, begone! I must ascertain how best to take advantage of the temporary imbalance you have created."
Steel hisses from leather as you draw your sword.
Pointing the weapon at the Warden mage, you say, "You court death mage. Give me a single reason I should not smite you where you stand."
"Because I would kill your host and you would be forced to return to the Fade," Avernus states flatly.
As you fight to retain control of your mounting temper, Levi speaks up, "Great grandmother, Sophia Dryden, I mean the Warden Commander, is there any proof she wasn't a traitor?"
Avernus gives your companion a dismissive glance, "No, and frankly I had hoped that luring you here would bring me Grey Wardens, not yet another possessed creature I must deal with."
A red haze swims before your vision, which has narrowed in on the face of the mage.
You want to kill him.
Through the red haze of your anger, you are dimly aware of Avernus muttering to himself while your thoughts whirl in circles.
You want to kill him.
There are too many unknowns in this situation, who knows what slaying him might do? It might be best to simply walk away, deal with the pressing issue of the Veil's thinness and the tears serving as Demon nests.
But you really want to kill him.
The point of your sword does not waver, and your gaze is focussed on Avernus. It would be so easy; mages of this land rely on their connection to 'mana' which you can take from him. He is tainted by the darkness, he is rude and dismissive and you are so tired of being mistaken for a spirit.
Yet it would not be right.
This man was once a Warden, an order who gives themselves to protect others, nominally at least. Surely there is some remnant of a good man within him? Perhaps, if you were to turn your talent for diplomacy towards the matter, you could secure his aid, appeal to his better nature.
Your jaw clenches, conscience wrestling with wrath.
It is the right thing to do, to try and turn this man away from the mad path he is on. To show him the right way once more, but you do not want to. Your pride and irritation, and perhaps some of the lingering horror from his experiments, whisper how satisfying it would be to slay him instead.
Your hand tightens around your sword's hilt. You know what the right thing to do in this situation is, you have even done it before, yet the words will not come. Your throat constricts and your tongue feels fat and heavy. No sound emerges from your mouth and a red haze hangs heavy in your sight.
'Traitor. Killer. Monster. Kinslayer,' Your thoughts whisper.
Your heart thunders loud in your ears, muscles tense and relax. The world narrows as it always does in battle. Avernus has drawn his staff, watching you closely. Some kind of spell is in the air, not yet cast but in the making. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
'Oathbreaker.'
Slowly, ever so slowly, you force the point of your blade down and away, towards your sheathe. The hiss of metal on leather plays out again, so soon after you first drew steel.
Even if this human is steeped in the darkness and Morgoth's creature through and through, you cannot risk killing him. Too much remains unknown and other matters call for your attention. Further, you are just uncertain enough of his nature to prevent judgement. Unless Avernus initiates hostility, you will not strike.
You hear Levi breathe a sigh of relief and Avernus smirks.
"Finally seeing reason, are you?" He says, "I've got a few things you might be able to help with if you're done with your temper tantrum."
For a moment, you feel a hint of doubt. Have you misjudged Avernus? Is he exactly what he claims to be?
No. You are not wrong. You refuse to accept that you might be wrong.
"Levi, it is time to leave," You state, turning on your heel.
"What? But, but what about…" Levi stutters.
"Leave this creature, whatever it is, to its business," You interrupt, "Whatever it is doing is less pressing than the weakness of the Veil, and I dare not act until that weakness is resolved."
"I have a plan for that…" Avernus begins.
The words of the man stir doubt in your heart once more. You crush that feeling before it can affect your actions.
Turning back, you say, "I care not what you plan or desire. As far as I am concerned you are as much a problem as the weakness. If you are wise, you will not be here when I return."
You do not wait to see what reaction, if any, your words cause. Turning once more, you stride from the room filled with purpose. The Veil must be tended to, and if your senses lead you right, the weakness is centred in the main tower, on the second floor.
For nearly an hour you examine the Veil within the main room. Dimly, you are aware of Avernus preparing something just out of your sight, some kind of magic you think, but for now you focus on the more pressing concern.
The weakness of the Veil is patently obvious just from the effects on the physical world, and the exact nature of that weakness is something you have a theory on. You know that there was a similar weakness in Brecilian, and there - like here - was a significant summoning of demons and practice of 'blood magic'.
As obvious as the connection is, your examination reveals nothing beyond your own deep ignorance of the Veil's nature. You think you can see all the pieces, but how they fit together is a total mystery to you.
With a heavy sigh, you stand from where you have been examining the markings on the ground. Levi, who has been glancing nervously at the room where Avernus is preparing, turns to look at you.
"You figured it out? Are we safe now?" He asks.
"I fear not," You say, "This matter is far beyond my meagre skill. If we are to achieve anything, we will require the assistance of an expert."
"Are we going to talk to that Avernus fellow again then?" Levi asks, adjusting the bag where he keeps the results of the 'research'.
"No," You reply, "I think it might be better if we ask for the assistance of the Circle."
"They're a fair trip away, is it wise to leave that… crazy mage alone so long?" The merchant says.
You pause, thinking for a time, "You have a point. Who could we contact locally that might be able to assist us?"
"I think I heard that Teyrn Cousland was in the area," Levi says slowly, "I think he travels with a mage, for healing and the like."
"A healer is hardly what we need right now," You reply, not unkindly.
"It's the Teyrn of Highever, they're not going to give him some fresh-faced apprentice, he'll have someone high up, maybe even the First Enchanter," The human argues.
"Where would he be?" You ask, entertaining the notion.
"Harper's Ford. It's about four miles from here, that horse of yours could do it in an hour," Levi informs you.
"I would have to leave you behind." You warn,
"No worries, I'll wait outside the mine. Avernus won't be able to get through without a map. Besides, my grandmother's part of the reason we have this problem in the first place. I've got to do what I can to fix it," He says.
A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, "Whenever I doubt Finderato, some human decides to prove him right. Very well, let us go Levi Dryden, descendant of Sophia Dryden. I will leave you as the first line of defence against any foul demons that emerge."
"That's not what I…" Dryden trails off, "Do you really think they'll make it through?"
"Impossible to say. Too late to change your mind though, you already volunteered," You tease the human.
"But I want to change my mind…" The human continues to complain until you reach the exit of the mines.
The ride to Harper's Ford is tense. Every second that passes you can almost feel the clock ticking towards disaster. You push Orundómë faster than strictly safe, and manage to make it to the town in less than an hour.
The guards at the gate stop you, demanding an explanation for your haste. You lean down to grasp the front of their mail and drag them onto their toes.
"Listen well, human," You hiss, "There is a weakness in the Veil an hour's ride from here spewing demons at a prodigious rate. I need a mage and I was told one was here. Was I informed correctly, and if so, where are they?"
Suffice it to say after that, the guards respond with vastly increased haste. Without much delay you find yourself before the Teyrn and the local ruler whose name you dismiss as unimportant.
The Teyrn himself is a man with grey and black hair in roughly equal proportions. Finely dressed with a thin beard, you get the impression of great weariness from him.
"I hear you bring urgent news of a weakness in the Veil," He says.
"Soldier's peak has had a weakness in the Veil since the time of Sophia Dryden, and it has been consistently spewing demons like a nest of locusts. The Warden commander's corpse was possessed as were most of the other fallen, and there's a former mage who may be possessed himself," You say.
That was only the introduction to what you were planning to say, yet before you can continue the Teyrn has already gone pale and begun yelling for his guards. Within minutes you are riding with the Teyrn and his escort - half of Harper's Ford's guards and a senior enchanter.
Levi barely gets a glance beyond what is necessary to lead the soldiers through the mines, so focused on his task is Teyrn Cousland. No sooner have you reached the courtyard than the lord sets his men about the task of securing the fortress. Few demons remained when you left; they rapidly replenished their numbers, and it is a hard struggle to reach the source of the weakness.
Avernus is unfortunately still alive, though under fierce assault from demons. He has set up some kind of magical ritual upon the floor in front of a set of mirrors, the nature of which escapes you.
"Warriors of Ferelden! Slay the demons, secure the room!" The Teyrn bellows, leading the charge.
Unwilling to let a mere mortal usurp your rightful place in the battleline, you swiftly overtake the heavily armoured man and leap into the fray. Few demons possess sufficient skill to impede you, and vaguely you note the senior enchanter examining the spell and consulting with Avernus surrounded by a ring of soldiers, but then more demons arrive and your attention returns to the fight.
Truthfully your presence is not strictly necessary. There are more than enough soldiers, with just enough of them being competent to hold the line while the mages do whatever they are doing. You focus your might on preserving the lives of the not-sufficiently competent.
The fight is short but intense. Waves of demons of steadily increasing strength, including that desire demon who still calls you darling, make a nuisance of themselves. It would be a lie to say you did not enjoy stabbing her more than necessary before she was banished.
Then, as suddenly as they had begun, the waves ended. Avernus is taken into custody by the senior enchanter, or the Teyrn. It is hard to say as there appears to be a significant jurisdictional issue.
"I am a Grey Warden, and therefore not subject to the Circle's rules," Avernus proclaims.
"He's obviously an abomination! You cannot possibly be considering allowing him to go free!" The enchanter protests to the Teryn.
Internally, you wish the beleaguered lord luck before walking over to Levi.
"It seems we never found that evidence you were looking for. You have my condolences," You say to the human.
The merchant chuckles softly, "It's alright. It was a fool's hope I suppose. The Warden's will get their castle back and we helped save the Teyrnin, so that's something, I guess."
"There is always value in hope, even a fool's hope," You reply softly.
The two of you sit in quiet companionship as your investigation of Griffin Keep comes to an end.