Delusion's? Or Prophecies?

"The Maker told me to help you on your quest to fight against the Blight," Leliana declared, her eyes wide with fervor.

As she continued to explain her "vision," Duran couldn't quite decide whether he was listening to a woman blessed with divine guidance or a sister from the nearest monastery who had perhaps spent a bit too long in the incense room. Her "vision" turned out to be a "dream"—which, for a dwarf like Duran, was as foreign as a surface dweller's obsession with sunlight. Dwarves didn't dream. Not in the way humans did, anyway. It was a mystery, a riddle wrapped in an enigma…or maybe just a little bit of madness.

Leliana, though, was insistent. She wanted to join Duran & Alistair and the rest of their ragtag group of companions. And Duran had to admit, as odd as she was, she had a certain…knack for handling herself in battle. For a self-proclaimed "holy" woman, she was more than capable of taking down a few enemies.

With a resigned sigh and a shrug, Duran finally relented. Who was he to argue? It wasn't like he understood how "visions" and "dreams" really worked. Maybe the Maker had told her something. Maybe she had eaten something funny last night. Either way, he'd let time decide whether Leliana would be a valuable ally or just another delusional monk wandering the battlefield.

After all, a little bit of crazy might be just what the group needed more of.