#he's quite literally a decrepit ancient corpse

[slumped-in-the-arms-of-fiction]

Soooooo, I saw Nosferatu last night and LOVED IT. Unfortunately, I now have a severe case of fuckthatoldmanitis.

[aion-rsa]

The Horror Movies That May Owe Their Existence To H.P. Lovecraft

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With Lovecraft Country finishing its acclaimed first season, you may be looking to fill that new gap in your viewing schedule with more content based on or inspired by the works of the enigmatic author from Providence, Rhode Island.

Let’s get one thing clear upfront: Howard Phillips Lovecraft was very much a product of his time and upbringing, and his views on race, ethnicity, and class — while commonplace for where and when he lived — were truly noxious, an aspect of his legacy that Lovecraft Country addresses in its own themes. But it’s also clear that Lovecraft was arguably the most influential horror writer of the 20th century, with a reach that extends to this day.

While there have been a number of movies based directly on stories by Lovecraft — including titles like Die, Monster, Die! (1965), The Dunwich Horror (1970), Re-Animator (1985) and its sequels, From Beyond (1986), Dagon (2001), The Whisperer in Darkness (2011), and Color Out of Space (2020) — you may be surprised just how many more readily available major horror films and cult favorites have been influenced by his writing in terms of plotlines, themes, mood and imagery.

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Here is a readout of 20 movies, spanning the last 60 years, in which the pervasive presence of H.P. Lovecraft had an undeniable impact, making many of these efforts into mostly effective and often great horror films. Even the Great Old Ones would approve…

X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes (1963)

Legendary filmmaker Roger Corman had just adapted a Lovecraft story in The Haunted Palace (although the movie was marketed as part of his Edgar Allan Poe cycle), but this sci-fi film also clearly channeled some of the author’s sense of cosmic horror.

Ray Milland plays a scientist who invents a formula that allows him to see through just about everything, eventually peering into the center of the universe itself. What he views there leads him to a shocking decision that fans of Lovecraft’s work would appreciate.

The Shuttered Room (1967)

This British production was based on a short story by August Derleth, Lovecraft’s publisher and a noted author in his own right. Derleth based his story on a fragment left behind by Lovecraft after the latter’s death, with the movie expanding on the tale even further.

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Gig Young and Carol Lynley star as a couple who inherit Lynley’s family mill only to find something horrifying living at the top of the house. Lots of Lovecraftian elements — a cursed house, a family secret, and strange locals — are all here.

Alien (1979)

Lovecraft’s work arguably existed on that knife edge between horror and science fiction — the Great Old Ones of his Cthulhu Mythos were, after all, ancient entities that existed in the darkest corners of the universe.

One of the greatest sci-fi/horror hybrids of all time, Alien, clearly took a cue from Lovecraft’s work: the origins and motivations of its xenomorphs were utterly unknowable to human understanding, and even the look of the alien echoed the gelatinous, glistening flesh of the Old Ones (too bad later movies like Prometheus and Alien: Covenant ruined it by explaining far too much of the alien’s history).

Scorpion

City of the Living Dead (1980)

Italian director Lucio Fulci directed several films inspired by the work of Lovecraft, starting with this gorefest starring Christopher George (Grizzly) and Catriona MacColl. When a priest hangs himself on the grounds of a cemetery in the town of Dunwich (a town created by Lovecraft), it opens a portal to hell that allows the living dead to erupt into our world.

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Fulci’s movie is often nonsensically plotted and more reliant on gore than Lovecraft ever was, but the otherworldly, surreal atmosphere is definitely sourced from the master.

The Beyond (1980)

The second film is Lucio Fulci’s “Gates of Hell” trilogy (the third was The House by the Cemetery) is perhaps the most heavily Lovecraftian, with Fulci regular Catriona MacColl inheriting a hotel in Louisiana that turns out to be — you guessed it — a portal to the world of the dead.

Like the director’s other work, it’s inconsistently acted and directed, but it oozes with a surreal, unsettling atmosphere that almost becomes intentionally disorienting. Hell of an ending too — literally.

The Evil Dead (1981)

Sam Raimi was just 20 when he and friends Rob Tapert and Bruce Campbell set out to make a low-budget horror movie called Book of the Dead, based on Raimi’s interest in Lovecraft. The finished product, The Evil Dead, featured plenty of Lovecraftian touches: a book of arcane evil knowledge, entities from another dimension, reanimated corpses and more.

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It also became one of the greatest cult horror movies of all time, spawning an entire franchise and — even as it veered more into comedy — staying true to its cosmic horror roots.

Universal

The Thing (1982)

Even though it’s squarely set in the science fiction genre, John Carpenter’s brilliant adaptation of the 1938 John W. Campbell Jr. novella Who Goes There? (filmed in 1951 as The Thing from Another World) is unquestionably cosmic horror.

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Although the title creature lands on Earth in a spaceship, its immense age, apparent indestructibility, utterly alien intelligence and formless ability to shapeshift make it one of the most Lovecraftian — and terrifying — monsters to ever slither across the screen. The remote, desolate setting and growing paranoia among the characters add to the terror and awe.

Ghostbusters (1984)

Yes, it’s one of the best combinations of horror and comedy to ever emerge onto the screen. But Ghostbusters’ second half — in which an apartment building designed by an insane architect turns out to be a gateway to a realm of monstrous demons led by “Gozer the Gozerian” — is pure Lovecraft.

The monstrous nature of the menace, the ancient rites and secret cult used to summon it — all of this is still quite cosmically eerie even as it’s played mostly for laughs and thrills.

Prince of Darkness (1987)

The second entry in what came to be known as John Carpenter’s “Apocalypse Trilogy” is perhaps the least influenced by Lovecraft. But it still packs a cosmic wallop with its arcane secrets long buried in an abandoned, decrepit church, its portal to another dimension ruled over by an Anti-God, its mutated, reanimated human monsters and its mind-bending combination of religious legends and scientific speculation (credit as well to British writer Nigel Kneale, an even more massive inspiration here).

In the Mouth of Madness (1995)

Carpenter completed his trilogy (arguably his greatest achievement outside of Halloween) with the most Lovecraftian of the three, in which a private insurance investigator (Sam Neill) looks into the disappearance of a famous horror author and learns that his books may portend the arrival of monstrous creatures from beyond our reality.

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Not only are the ideas right out of Lovecraft, but the movie oozes with allusions to the writer’s work and ends up being as disorienting and genuinely disturbing as some of his most famous stories.

Event Horizon (1997)

While we will always argue that the execution of this film was faulty, which stops it from becoming a true cult classic, we won’t debate its central premise: a spacecraft with an experimental engine rips open a hole in the space-time continuum, plunging the ship and its crew into a dimension that appears to be hell itself and endangering the rescue team that arrives to find out what happened.

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Event Horizon: From Doomed Ship to Cult Gem

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Director Paul W.S. Anderson provides some truly macabre touches to an often incoherent movie, and again the whole invasion-of-evil-from-outside-our-universe concept points right back to old H.P. and his canon.

Hellboy (2004)

Hellboy creator Mike Mignola has often cited Lovecraft as a primary influence on his long-running comics starring the big red demon (Lovecraft’s vision has impacted a slew of other comics over the years as well), and it’s no surprise that Guillermo del Toro’s original movie based on the books touches on that too. The film’s Ogdru Jahad are a take on Lovecraft’s Great Old Ones, while the movie is stuffed with references to occult knowledge, forbidden texts, alternate realities and more.

Del Toro’s own direct Lovecraft adaptation, At the Mountains of Madness, remains abandoned in development hell, but his work here gives us perhaps a taste of how it might have looked.

The Mist (2007)

Stephen King has often cited the influence of Lovecraft on his own vast library of work, and both the novella The Mist and Frank Darabont’s intense film adaptation are perhaps the most overt example.

While the premise is vaguely sci-fi — an accident at a secret government lab opens a portal to another dimension, unleashing a fog containing all kinds of horrifying monsters — the mood and the entities are Lovecraftian to the extreme, as is Darabont’s unforgivingly bleak ending (altered from King’s more ambiguous one).

The Cabin in the Woods (2012)

Director/co-writer Drew Goddard and co-writer Joss Whedon take on two of horror’s most criticized subgenres, the slasher film and the torture porn movie, in this sharp satire that ends up being a Lovecraft pastiche as well. The standard set-up of five young, horny friends heading to a remote cabin in advance of being slaughtered turns out to be a ritual performed by trained technicians as a sacrifice to monstrous deities — the Ancient Ones — that reside under the Earth’s crust. The ending — in which the survivors decide that humanity isn’t worth saving after all — would have met the misanthropic Lovecraft’s approval.

Stephen King’s It (2017/2019)

The more metaphysical elements of King’s gigantic 1987 novel (such as the emergence of the godlike Turtle and the journey into the Macroverse) didn’t really make it into either this two-part theatrical version of the novel or the 1990 miniseries.

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But the influence of Lovecraft is still felt in the title menace itself, an unimaginably ancient, shape-shifting entity that can exist in multiple realities and feeds on fear and terror. The way that It slowly corrupts the town of Derry and its inhabitants over the years has precedent as well in Lovecraft tales like “The Dunwich Horror” and “The Shadow Over Innsmouth.”

The Endless (2017)

Indie horror auteurs Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead have touched on certain Lovecraft tropes in all their films, including Resolution and Spring, but The Endless is perhaps the most directly influenced by the author. The writers/directors also star in the movie as two brothers who return to the cult from which they escaped as children, only to find it has become the plaything of an unseen time-bending entity.

Genuinely eerie and more reliant on character and story than special effects, The Endless is a good example of what a modern twist on the Lovecraft mythos might look like.

The Void (2017)

A small group of medical personnel, police officers and patients become trapped in a hospital after hours by an onslaught of hooded cultists and macabre creatures in this virtual compendium of well-loved Lovecraft tropes and imagery. Writer/directors Steven Kostanski and Jeremy Gillespie channel an ’80s horror vibe, with all its pros (and some cons) but the overall atmosphere is surreal and the story taps effectively into the sense of cosmic horror.

Annihilation (2018)

Alex Garland’s (Devs) adaptation of Jeff VanderMeer’s frightening novel Annihilation is brilliant and terrifying in its own right, and both serve as loose rewrites/reinventions of Lovecraft’s classic “The Colour Out of Space.” In this take, four female explorers are tasked with penetrating and solving the spread of an alien entity over a portion of the coastal U.S. that is mutating all the plant and animal life within. The sense of awe and cosmic dread is strong throughout this underseen gem.

The Lighthouse (2019)

The second feature from visionary writer/director Robert Eggers (The Witch) is more a psychological drama than an outright horror film — or is it? The story’s two lonely lighthouse keepers (Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe) may be going insane or may be coming under the influence of an unseen sea entity and the beam of the lighthouse itself.

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With its black and white cinematography, windswept location, half-glimpsed sea creatures and sense of reality crumbling around the edges, The Lighthouse is just a Great Old One away from being a genuine Lovecraftian nightmare.

Underwater (2020)

It’s hard to believe that this Kristen Stewart vehicle came out in early 2020 — given the way the world changed since, it seems like it came out five years ago. Although its story of workers on a deep sea drilling facility battling monsters from the deep was an overly familiar one, the creatures themselves were more unusual than most. Director William Eubank took it a step further by saying that the movie’s climactic giant monster was none other than Cthulhu itself, the Great Old One sleeping under the ocean and namesake of Lovecraft’s entire Cthulhu Mythos — which takes us back to where we began.

The post The Horror Movies That May Owe Their Existence To H.P. Lovecraft appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[virtuosin]

╳

{{  Pretty long so under the cut it goes!  }}

‘Shieda Kayn,’ A warm, soundless voice would permeate his mind, the name languidly spoken from that unseen tongue. ‘The one who heralds the harbinger of death-’ A brief pause. ‘-you, the Promised One...oh, how he has twisted you. His taint has had such undue effects on your mind...and your soul.’ If he were to glance around the the hotel room, he’d find that Sona was still asleep in bed, silent still save for the gentle rising of her chest to indicate she was deep in slumber. Then, when he glances the opposite way, a ball of golden light awaits him, gravitating in place before his eyes. ‘We are Ora,’ They announce themselves to Kayn with slow omnipotence. ‘We have avoided contact due to the one you have bound yourself to...but-’ A pause, and although there is no physical features to the ball, it seems to shift its attention to the sleeping Templar. ‘-we are nearing the end...and the Child of Ora has reached a startling conclusion. She bears a terrible weight, Promised One,’ That invisible gaze returns to Kayn. ‘We wonder...will you help bear that weight? Will you still, after knowing her plan?’ It shudders in place. ‘We have tasked her to endure such hardships for a purpose far greater than should be given to such a small girl...yet she bears it all the same. You, who she has chosen...you, who our beloved Child of Ora marvels...will you dare to see the future she wields?’ Without waiting, light would burst, severing Kayn’s consciousness from that quaint bedroom, blinding him with the intensity of a thousand suns...then, darkness. It’s quiet, perhaps similar to the way Kayn had drifted beneath the waves on that moon--the night he drowned and felt the chill grasp of death. But he wasn’t dead, nor dying...but in this stasis of endless night, he wasn’t living either. Not stars, no moon...nothingness. Then, gravity returns, offering Kayn’s feet a place to rest. He stands on ancient cobblestone, and from there the world crawls into being, fanning out from where he stood. As the scene unfurls around him, the Ordinal might notice the nearby greenery and masonry. Decrepit, foreboding in nature but mystical as well. Even if he had never been to Navorre personally, he might recognize it from photos, or even video surveillance the Empire has had on the small planet. It was home to the Enclave, headquarters to the Templar Order. And there, gushing light enriched with Ora was that looming obelisk--the Ora Gate. “AAAAAAAAUGH!!” A scream of agony, so raw and visceral and brutal in nature. It wasn’t the labored shrill of someone wounded, it was the guttural yowl from torturous pain, the kind that was slow, and all powerful. What’s more, the voice...is would be all too familiar to Kayn at this point. A voice from someone who was meant to be mute--a girl he’s come to known and become close with for so many months in space. There, floating twenty feet in the air just between Kayn and the Ora Gate was the beloved Templar, Sona Buvelle. The light was so blinding that her figure was merely a silhouette, but this close, Kayn might see how brightly her markings burned--quite literally--into her flesh, searing her body and soul as the raw Ora filters into her form. “SUNFLOWER!!” A new voice, from several feet behind Kayn. A woman, tall, thin, but strangely sturdy despite the overwhelming pressure exuding from the gate. She stood, bracing against the dense atmosphere flowing forth, sterling eyes on her dear daughter. Eyes dart down to Kayn, and while he might not know much about Lestara, he would know how hardened the woman was, and how detached she made herself out to be towards others. Not softness, no kindness, not a shred of mercy-- And she was crying. “Stop her, Ordinal-” Lestara mouths towards him, her voice becoming deafened by the augmented nature of the scene. “STOP THIS MADNESS AND SAVE HER!! IT’S KILLING HER!! SHE’S GOING TO LET IT KILL HER!!” Tears were streaking faster, droplets flying off either edge of her gaunt cheekbones. If he were to look back at Sona, he’d notice a sizeable sphere form around her. It was reminiscent to one of her barriers, however, it shielded herself away from the world, acting as a small space to contain herself and the overwhelming Ora now being absorbed by the girl. Another blast of light erupts, and something shifts. As if a moment happens but is not shown to Kayn--like a skip in a record. When his vision adjusts, he would notice an utter lack of Rhaast--had he even been in the memory to start?--and the Ora Gate was pulsating with a final breath of Ora before it went dormant. Would he have enough focus to notice the ebony shade lingering at the edges of the gate, or were his eyes caught off guard by the limp body of his prisoner, flowing straight for the ground. Whether by direct choice of his own or the Ora, Kayn would find himself racing forward, catching Sona at the cost of hitting the ground hard on his side. But she was safe, in his arms--except...she isn’t safe. Not at all. Her Ora markings roared with energy, as if made of fire itself. What’s more, there were more of them, splintering off and creating new curves around her eyes, her arms, her neck. Robes were singed, the long emerald sleeves burned off to her biceps, revealing her scotched flesh to him. A direct effect from how she was forced to filter the raw Ora into her body, all in order to control that Ora Gate of his. “Sh-Shieda...” Sona wheezes out, the light in her gilded eyes rising and falling in color, going from prismatic to dull. All of her features matched that ebbing effect, signifying what he’d feel in his gut; Lestara was right...she was dying. He might feel that strong, innate connection they share, and it would only confirm the fear. He would feel how ravaged her body was, how close to the brink operating the Ora Gate had brought her, and of how little life remained inside her. And yet, she was smiling. “Ehe...heh...” Soft laughter, barely a wheeze. “I...am sorry...h-had to...let it in...funneled it all...into myself...h-had...to stop Rhaast from taking you...f-from absorbing the Ora and letting them in,” A deep breath causes Sona’s body to shudder hard against his lap and arms, and it’s almost painful to feel how cold this mirthful woman was becoming. It was...tragic...and still, she smiled at him. Feebly, a hand manages to touch his chest, palm flush against his sternum as if she wants nothing more than to touch his very heart. “I...was n-never meant to live anyway...I-I wasn’t born to have...a future...” Tears would form, so fat and full of life. Eyes would drift from her hand back up to his eyes, and those large, shiny gold hues would meet his, bringing back countless memories all at once. “B-But...you gave me a life...a-and now...I can die with meaning...I-I’m so happy...to die like this, Shieda, I-” Another hard wheeze, and now her eyes were falling fast. “-I think...this is the kindest death...I could ever wish for...h-heh...I-I’m so...lucky...aren’t I? T-To die in your arms...I-I can go...happily...if it’s like this...” “Shieda,” A final rasp, eyes so dark and shadowed by death. “...y-you...were my...new home...m-my friend...my b-beloved storm, I...” It fades, and yet her lips keep moving, as if she still attempts to speak but the Ora had run dry--her life had run dry. And then there was no movement at all...her final words...nothing but endearments for the man who had treated her callously, who forced her to this place, who could not stop it even at the very end; In the end, Kayn could not keep his promise and protect her. A heaviness crawls deep into his marrow, making the very air impossible to breathe. A deadened scream echoes in the distance, a reminder of a mother who has lost her child. And then, he’d feel it--a chilling breeze that bellows from behind him...from the Ora Gate. ‘They hunger,’ The Ora would call out to Kayn, speaking to him despite the emotions that may consume him as he gingerly clings to Sona’s limp, lifeless corpse. ‘They will unmake everything,’ The world would turn gray as something oppressive lingers from behind his back, though he wouldn’t find the will to look, even if he wanted to--eyes fixated by force to Sona’s still expression. ‘There will be nothing left to rule...nothing left to live...it will all be erased if you do not heed this warning we give you, Promised One,’ The shadows grow, coalescing around Sona and Kayn. He would watch in horror as the tendrils consume her legs, pulling her out of his grasp and dissolving her into the inky depths, her pale features and dead eyes the final sight he has of his...what was she to him again? Prisoner? Friend? Something far more? ‘She will open the gate, she must open the gate-’ The Ora goes quiet, emphasizing the importance of these next words as Kayn’s vision goes black. ‘-but she need not die...but she has decided on this path. Will you prevent her from enduring this burden alone and suffer a fate undeserving of such a pure being? If she ever meant anything to you, we beseech you, for your volatile will is all that can forge a new divergence from her selected path...stop her, Shieda Kayn, and give the Child of Ora the life you inspired her to long for.’ Jolting upright, sweat trails along his musculature. He was back in their hotel room, Sona still sleeping soundly, Rhaast off in a separate corner, and the Ora...no where to be seen, presumably back inside Sona’s core. As his eyes and body adjust to the transition, he’d find something in his hands. Staring hard through the shadows, it holds a dull glint...wet and dark...like blood. Sona’s blood. When Kayn blinks again, it is gone, though the existential dread remains, instilling a profound fact in his mind. The end was coming...it was coming for them all.

[rose-de-sang]

“I think.. you’ll do nicely..”

“Ah.. for, what, exactly, my Lady..?”

“Don’t you worry about that, my dear. You just sit there and look pretty. Let me look at you.” Morgana purred, flashing a pearly white and too-innocent grin up to the man she’d spent quite literally all day searching for. She felt her soul being tugged at it’s edges, that ebb back into the Shadowlands.. she’d spent too far away from home. Too far away from Victor. It was hard to tell if it was him or the Veil getting impatient. Regardless.. she didn’t want to disappoint.

Morgana spun in a slow circle around this raven-haired male, heels slow in their rhythmic tick-tocking against the wooden floors. What a dingy little place this was, in the heart of Stormwind City... how long it’s been since she’s been seated directly in the Alliance Capitol. A delighted little sigh left the Gilnean woman as her fingers trailed slowly along the breadth of this poor soul’s back, pads digging into clothing as if testing muscle. Her head tilted, settling those murky blues onto the side of the man’s face. 

The likeness was too much. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought this was Victor near in her arms, not some... hm.

“What did you say your name was, again?” She chimed quietly, fingers beginning a slow walk around the man’s bicep to crawl to the center of his chest, well-manicured nails pressing into a thin cotton shirt. The man swallowed tightly as he watched this dark-haired vixen circle him like a predator. She was.. utterly enchanting. It was hard to peel those honeyed brown hues away from her. 

“S-Seamus, my Lady..” He managed after a moment, clearing his throat. His breath hitched as her fingers crawled up his throat, manicured claws pressing into the back of his neck along his raven-colored hairline. A thoughtful hum left her, not that she cared, but she’d nod.

“Seamus...” She repeated slowly, pointedly rolling his name off of her tongue. His hands twitched at his sides and Morgana’s free hand was quick to swat at it, snorting indignantly.

“I’m a married woman, Seamus. But that’s why you want me so, isn’t it?” Morgana hummed rather abashedly, an amused twinkle to those murky blues as the man began to sputter. 

“Wh- well.. no, my Lady, you’re just--”

“Just what, hm? Not yours? And that’s why you want to touch me, to ravage me like a brood mare.  Don’t lie to me, darling... your sins are on a silver platter ready for me to devour.” There was a wanton need in the way Morgana’s voice groaned as she made another pass around the man, head tilting appraisingly. She could see the sweat clinging to his brows, the way his fingers twitched at his sides... the way his heart thrummed in his throat. The sound of blood roaring in his ears.

It almost made her dizzy.

“Y-yes... I enjoy married women’s company...” He admitted in a slow drawl, and a delighted little titter left Morgana’s lips, skipping back around to his front. Chocolate and dark cherry curls bounced excitedly as she stretched up on her tiptoes and snared the man beneath his jaw, pressing the nails of her thumb and index finger into his hot skin.

“Aaahh! Aha! There it is... Well.. Seamus. You’re in luck, it seems.. because, you see.. I want you just as bad as you want me,” Morgana chirped, flashing a fanged grin up to the man with another giggle. A relieved sigh left the man, and he’d laugh with her. Morgana’s free hand pressed right over his sternum, her head tipping to the right as she released the man’s face, though his gaze was still drawn to her.

“I enjoy the taste of adultery... it’s rich... sweet, almost like wine.” Morgana sighed, shoulders rolling back contentedly. Murky blues flared an intense cyan as painted lips pulled apart into a wide grin. He didn’t know any better, for he just assumed she was speaking in sultry prose.. nothing literal. Seamus’s head dipped down, then, hands gripping Morgana’s hips roughly as he moved to slate his lips over hers.

She was ready to indulge him, if for a second. Just before his lips touched hers is when he’d jerk, a short gasp leaving him. Brows knit in confusion as he stared down to her, centimeters away. Seamus dipped his gaze down to where her hand was, resting over his sternum.

Her fingers had wedged themselves inside of his chest, blood pooling around the punctures. In Morgana’s palm swirled a delectable orb of cyan, thin tendrils of crimson serving as thread to hold this orb together. Just like that, Seamus’s soul was pried from his waiting chest, and the shock couldn’t even warrant a scream. His mouth agape, thin wisps of his energies wafted into Morgana, who hissed in delight.

Seamus slumped in Morgana’s arms, gasping wetly as he struggled to breathe.

“Sh-shh.. we don’t want to disturb anyone, do we..? I haven’t even started...” Morgana purred, guiding the man backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he slumped into a stunned sit. Slowly did Morgana’s fingers slide free of his chest, cupping that cyan orb, cradling it in her palm. Prying his knees apart, Morgana dipped into a crouch, staring up at him with a delighted little laugh. 

“Fascinating.. isn’t it? More so for me, not for you.. is this really what Victor would look like horrified? At my hands?” A little gasp left her, causing her spine to straighten and her eyes to widen. How.. untoward. She didn’t like that. Slowly, blood and muscle sinew corded and wound around the soul, of which appeared to bubble and pop apart. Seconds later, there would be a single pomegranate sitting in her palm. Morgana’s brows ticked upward and she’d grin, nodding towards the fruit in her hand.

“You’ll do quite nicely indeed.. but I need you relatively in tact and none of you in that pretty little noggin of yours, you see.” She continued, though the man’s eyes had lost all life, soulless, a mere shell of a man. Morgana sighed as she rocked up into a stand, tilting her head. That had to work, right? The pomegranate was warm in her hands, thrumming with energy. Fear, mostly, but that would taste delightful later.

“You don’t know a damn thing, do you? Aw... how sad. I do love feasting on memories as well as sins.. anima.. blood... But you? You would have made a dashing husband, you would.” Her lips puckered into a pout, more so out of mock sympathy for the man. Morgana’s left hand drifted to the bloodied pock marks that tattled her entrance into the man’s chest, thin threads of blood weaving through her fingers. Strong, he was. His heart, however? Slowly thudding to a halt. No, no.. that wouldn’t do.

A slow sigh left Morgana as she tucked the pomegranate into her jacket, gently. She pried a glove off of her right hand, shoving her sleeve back. Bringing her wrist to her lips, she’d bite down. Blood pooled around her fangs before she released herself, welling some in her palm before she tugged his shirt off of one of his shoulders, slapping her bloodied hand over the pock marks she’d made. The blood threading through her fingers sank back into him like needles sewing skin back together, palm glowing an eerie crimson. Flicking her right wrist, the wound already closed, she waited, uttering words in a dark and ancient tongue to finish the binding. 

Already exhausted, her essence would keep the man alive as long as necessary for another soul to claim it as it’s host... And how Victor would love it. An excited giggle left the woman as she tugged that bloodied shirt back up onto the man’s shoulder, twirling a lock of raven colored hair around a finger with a fanged grin.  Shadows coalesced around their frames and suddenly.. they’d be gone.

Ramsey Manor. A decrepit, falling apart ruin of a once grandiose display of wealth and status within Gilneas. The ages haven’t been kind, nor the wars this land has faced and lost to. A perpetual rainfall saw to it the roof leaked in many of the rooms, and a damp, musty scent clung to rotting wallpaper and wood. 

Morgana and her victim reappeared within the Lady’s chambers. Elegant and posh, it rang, or.. used to. Now it was dark, though appeared slightly lived-in. Her traipses through the Anima Pathways and the Veil between worlds saw her back here, tending to the old rooms. At least the bed made, candles lit, dusted.. it was still a lovely display of overcompensation met with an abundance of childhood trauma and emotional neglect from the inflated heads of greedy parents. Ah, memories.

Exhaustion tended to her limbs and she’d groan, dragging Seamus’s lifeless body to the edge of her bed before dumping him onto it, hefting him into a comfortable-looking lay. She even fluffed up the pillows. Satisfied, Morgana wiggled with excitement. Next to her vanity and in between a fireplace that hadn’t seen any use for ages, sat a full-length mirror. The glass, however.. rippled crimson, tattling a world and place beyond. 

“You wait right there. Don’t move!” Morgana chirped to the corpse, holding up a finger as she skipped to the edge of that mirror, a grin threatening to tear her face in half forming. Sucking in a breath, she stepped through, the magic holding the portal together rippling excitedly with her energies as she passed through the Veil. 

“I thought I heard your voice... where the hell have you been?” Came worriedly from across the absolutely lived-in, posh chambers of Victor Rymaer himself. Morgana squealed in delight as she skipped across the way and hopped right up into his waiting arms, winding her arms around his neck with a grin.

“I went... mm. Shopping! Yes. Shopping, oh, my love! You are.. going to -love- it. Him, I should say, but I digress. I worked so hard all day to find someone that was just -perfect- for you, and oh do I think I found the one!”

“Slow down.. shopping. On.. Azeroth. Shopping on Azeroth.” He repeated for clarity, those brows tugging up in surprise as he peered over to Morgana. “Him. Whatever you acquired.. is a him.”

“Yes! Yes, my sweet... comecome, you and I..? We.. are going home.”

“Home...?”

[moczothe1st]

Days of Our Dragon Age:  Episode 39:  A Love as Deep as a Deep Road

[SCENE: CAMP, at HIGH NOON.  It is NIGHT.]

BLAKE: [SADLY]  Okay, everyone.  We have recruited, to face the infinite hordes of the Darkspawn, a total of ten mages and fifty elves.  How many Darkspawn do we have to kill, again?

STEN: You just called them an infinite horde.  

BLAKE: I was hoping that I was wrong, dammit.  

ALISTAIR: I don’t think you could ever be wrong, my sweet.

LELIANA: Want to get married?

BLAKE: I… wait, Alistair I expected, but Leliana, I thought we broke up, or…

LELIANA: I really liked something you said in the temple, and you gave me a piece of cake.  It made us a couple again.  

BLAKE: … … … Sure.  Anyway, I’m going to come right out and say that maybe we need to improve the size of our forces. We are going to need to bolster our ‘army’ with an actual army. Now, where do you think we should go to seek this? I’m taking votes.

ALISTAIR: Arl Eam-

BLAKE: The Deep Roads it is! Let’s go find some dwarves.    

ALISTAIR: [POUTING] You said we were voting.  

BLAKE: We did.  I just forgot to mention that I’m the only one who gets a vote, because I’m the leader. That’s what we call ‘democracy.’

MORRIGAN: I wish you were a man.

[The GROUP leaves camp, beginning the LONG HIKE to the entrance of ORZAMMAR, legendary city of the DWARVES.  They make it THIRTY SECONDS.]

DARKSPAWN EMISSARY: RANDOM ENCOUNTER, BITCHES!  

ALISTAIR: Wow, the emissaries really are smarter than normal darksp-

EMISSARY: EMISSARY, ROCKIN’ OUT THE FIREBALLS, YO!  I AM THE FIRE OF PERDITION COME TO DEVOUR YOU! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!

[The EMISSARY, being MORE CLEVER than a normal DARKSPAWN, is able to launch a MAGICAL FIREBALL at the group while SIMULTANEOUSLY shredding out a ROCKING GUITAR SOLO.  They really ARE quite INTELLIGENT.]

EVERYONE: [IS ON FIRE]

WYNNE: [BEGINS TO GLOW] I was secretly being kept alive by a magical spirit the whole time!  

[SPIRIT POWERS, on.  ACTIVATE INTERLOCK, dynotherms CONNECTED, Infracells UP, Mega-thrusters are GO.]  

BLAKE: … So your dark secret was spirit powers that can enhance you for combat? That was your dark secret?

WYNNE: Alas, for I am an abomination, animated only by a spirit who has chosen to grant me a tenuous grasp on-

BLAKE: Awesome.  You’re in the party forever.  

WYNNE: You don’t seem to be having the experience of deep religious terror I was expecting from this revelation.  I’m dead, you realize.  

BLAKE: No, those guys are dead. The creepy veiny faced ones, vaguely spawnlike? On the dark side?  You have superpowers.  You’re Spirit Woman.  I would marry you if you weren’t, you know...

MORRIGAN: Old? Decrepit? Wrinkled like a prune?  

BLAKE: … I was going to say ‘grandmotherly,’ I swear. MORRIGAN: Hideous?  

BLAKE: Stop helping, please.

MORRIGAN: Ancient and corroded? Willfully ignorant of the world around her in favor of propagating a broken system?

WYNNE: I can’t use my spirit powers very often. You can tell because Morrigan still has a face.  

MORRIGAN: Smelling vaguely of mold?

BLAKE: She’s gonna keep doing this for awhile. Let’s just finish walking to Orzammar before we get another random encounter.  

MORRIGAN: Oddly dry, as if made of sandpaper?

[SCENE: The FROSTBACK MOUNTAINS, on the trail to ORZAMMAR, realm of the DWARVES.  Yes, the REALM OF THE DWARVES is ONE CITY, and it honestly isn’t even a GREAT ONE. There is a lot of MAGMA and the DARKSPAWN are their next-door NEIGHBOR, but the DWARVES remain there because they believe LIVING ABOVE GROUND is INHERENTLY EVIL. Oh, there is TECHNICALLY another CITY but you’ll never GO THERE and it’s PROBABLY WORSE, for all we KNOW.]

THIS is what is known as EXPOSITION intended to make sure that any READERS don’t go into the coming segment with HIGH EXPECTATIONS.]

BLAKE: Okay, so does anyone know where the door is? It seems like they should put up signs.

ALISTAIR: Oh, there’s a sign. Next to those fine gentleman guarding the path.

[There are FIVE INDIVIDUALS on the path.  Not ALL of them are GENTLEMEN, and none of them look particularly FINE.  Some do NOT HAVE TEETH, and all are carrying some manner of SHARP IMPLEMENT.  There are some BLOODSTAINS on the clothing, but that will probably not be IMPORTANT.]

BOUNTY HUNTER: Hey. You Grey Wardens?

BLAKE: … No.    

ALISTAIR: Hey, look. That sign says we’re near Orzammar. That’s important for Grey Wardens to visit! Like us!  

BOUNTY HUNTER: *smile*

[The group CONTINUES THEIR TREK after wiping all of the BLOOD off of THEMSELVES.  It is nearly HALF from other PEOPLE.  Thankfully, WYNNE is here and she can RE-ATTACH LELIANA’S LIMBS.  It’s not HER FAULT that ARCHERY won’t be good until the DLC.]

BLAKE: So I think we need to make some new rules about Alistair and when he can talk.  I nominate ‘never.’  

ALISTAIR: You have beautiful eyes.

LELIANA: I’ve always thought so!  

ZEVRAN: Mrrrrrrrrrrow.

BLAKE: You know, I hear there’s people out there who really like this much attention.  Would it be possible for some of you to go out and latch on to them?  I hear that Hawke could really use a friend or two.  You guys need more friends, don’t you?

[This is TRUE, but if HAWKE had FRIENDS then they would PROBABLY JUST DIE.  Be super blunt with me here, did you really enjoy playing as HAWKE?  Did you have a lot of FUN sorting out the MAGE-TEMPLAR CONFLICT? Of course you DIDN’T. Playing as HAWKE was an endless slog of PAIN AND DESPAIR as everything about their life SPIRALLED out of control and they slowly but surely LOST EVERYTHING and UTTERLY FAILED to prevent a WORLD WAR, then the THIRD GAME has some new guy SOLVE THE PROBLEM in like, an HOUR.  Then HAWKE makes a CAMEO and has a 50% chance of DYING.]

[Sorry, HAWKE. It’s not your FAULT.]

MORRIGAN:  I don’t have friends, myself.

[That pretty much IS her fault, though.]

BLAKE: I believe that is literally true.

[IT IS.]

[SCENE: ORZAMMAR.  There is LAVA everywhere, but it is VIDEO GAME LAVA so it only hurts you if you TOUCH IT.  The DWARVES are currently having a POLITICAL DEBATE.]

DWARF A: I think Harrowmont sucks and Prince Bhelen should be king!

DWARF B: Well, I think Bhelen sucks and Lord Harrowmont should be king!

DWARF A:  *MURDERS DWARF B IN THE STREETS*

BLAKE: Holy crap!  

MORRIGAN: Finally, someone with a firm grasp of governance.  

[We may need to consider the possibility that MORRIGAN is just an ODDLY TALL DWARF]

DWARF GUARD: Hail, Warden. I understand you’ve come to us seeking our mighty dwarf army to help you face off against the terror of the Darkspawn Blight.  

BLAKE: I… yes.  Are you going to clean up the corpse, or…

DWARF GUARD: Alas, we cannot command our forces to march without the guidance of our king, and we have none.  

BLAKE: There was a murder just now, so…

DWARF GUARD: If you seek the power of the dwarven army, you shall need to chose one of the leading candidates, Prince Bhelen, the sole surviving member of the royal family and you probably just shouldn’t question why that is, or the old king’s friend Lord Harrowmont who seems like a great choice. Yes, he really seems that way.  He certainly does seem to be the right choice.  Seeeeeeeeeeeems.  [WINKS a few times while DISCRETELY POINTING at GAMEFAQS.]

BLAKE: This isn’t going to be any fun, is it?  

DWARF GUARD: That’s basically our town motto.  

LELIANA: I question if ze dwarf army is even worz it, everyone.  Perhaps we should just go focus on ze Arl Eamon and let zem sort zis all out for zemselves.

ALISTAIR: Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss…

STEN: I feel they could not possibly be worse than the elf army, if this helps in making our choice.

MORRIGAN: I want to do whatever Alistair doesn’t want to do.  

WYNNE:  Now, now, children.  We need as many soldiers as we can get to face the Blight.  We’ll just have to pick one of the candidates and support his claim to the throne.  I’m sure we can use our finely tuned moral compasses to determine which is the correct option.  We are, after all, purely noble heroes without any factors that might render our judgments suspect.  

MORRIGAN: Aren’t you possessed by an extradimensional entity that could be altering your thoughts in any number of ways, potentially without you even knowing?

WYNNE: Aren’t you overdue to shut up?

[With their COURSE DECIDED, the group decides to interview both CANDIDATES to determine which is the CORRECT MORAL OPTION.]

[SCENE: PRINCE BHELEN’s home, the PALACE.]

BHELEN: Greetings. Welcome to my home, Grey Warden.  I am a sleazy amoral murderer that is directly or indirectly responsible for the deaths of my entire family, and I’m going to be asking you to break pretty much every one of the like, six laws that we dwarves even have.  Want to be friends?

WYNNE: … … … … … ... …

BLAKE: Whoa.  Um.  We’ll, uh… we’ll consider it.  [WHISPERED] Let’s get the Hell out of here.    

[SCENE: LORD HARROWMONT’S estate.]  

LORD HARROWMONT: *Pets a puppy* Greetings, my new Warden friends. I am kindly old uncle Harrowmont. Would you like a Werther’s candy?

BLAKE: You seem much nicer than your opposition.

ALISTAIR: *Eats a Werther’s candy*

LELIANA: I feel safe and warm.  

HARROWMONT: Why, thank you, children. Yes, I am much nicer than Prince Bhelen. He is cold and cruel, while I am kind and respectful to all those who help me. I certainly SEEM like the correct choice. [PAUSES, and gestures at the player’s INTERNET BROWSER while COUGHING.]  That is most definitely how I SEEM.  You would definitely THINK that I am the morally obvious correct choice.  I SEEM THAT WAY.  SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM.  

BLAKE: Okay, everyone. We have a choice, here. Who do we want to pick?

BHELEN: *Eats a baby.*

HARROWMONT: *Rocks in his ol’ rocking chair on the front porch, pouring lemonade for all the local kids.*  

BLAKE: I think the choice is obvious. So. Bhelen it is, then!

MORRIGAN: You looked that up on the internet.

BLAKE: … … Verily, I knowest not of what thou speakest, fair Morrigan.  Internet? Be this some magely conjuring of thine…

MORRIGAN: You did.  Don’t even bother pretending we have a fourth wall anymore.  You looked up the ending on the internet.  

BLAKE: Okay, fine.  Look, it’s not my fault.  You try avoiding spoilers for an eight year old game, see how well you do.  

MORRIGAN: You know, if you already know everything that’s going to happen, I’m not even sure why I’m bothering to keep my dark secret.

[DRAMATIC ORGAN PLAYS]

BLAKE: You know, I legit thought we were done with that gag.  

MORRIGAN: Do not change the subject!  I’m a major plot character and my arc is crucial to the central twists of the endgame, and you’re just spitting all over that. I thought we had a connection, you know?  I thought ‘here is someone as generally unpleasant as me, who hates Alistair, and enjoys power and murder.’  I thought we could be friends, you know? But now I find out you’ve not even the slightest concern for maintaining secrecy regarding story structure, and-

STEN: [Hits MORRIGAN in the back of the head with a ROCK.]

BLAKE: Thanks, man, that was seriously getting awkward. Chicks, am I right?

LELIANA: Is that remark sexist if you are a woman?

BLAKE: I’m choosing to say ‘no.’  

SCENE: PRINCE BHELEN’S PALACE OF DESPAIR, int.  

BHELEN: Fantastic, I knew you would see reason and choose the obviously correct choice for Orzammar which is foreshadowed believably.

MORRIGAN: I have such a headache.  And I have no memory of the last six hours.  Why is everyone here so short?  It sickens me.

BLAKE: Just ignore her, prince sir.  She’s silly.

MORRIGAN: This one sickens me most of all. The eyes of a rat, he has.

BHELEN: I would normally object to that, but I’m going to be sending you to kill the dwarf mafia now, so honestly that’s punishment enough.  

BLAKE: … When you say ‘kill the mafia’…

BHELEN: Yes, the whole thing.

DOG: Bark, bark!

BLAKE: I’m not going to translate that because it isn’t fit for polite company, but Dog doesn’t like you any more than Morrigan does.  

MORRIGAN: I hate all short people. And farmers. And anyone named ‘Casper.’  

BLAKE: Also, Wynne, I think she has a concussion, could you fix that?

WYNNE: Eh.

[SCENE:  The hideout of the DWARF MAFIA, int. int.  It is a CAVE inside a CITY inside a CAVE, so I think it deserves two ‘int.’]

JARVIA:  Hello there, Warden. I am Jarvia, head of the Dwarf Mafia, which someone really should have called by its proper name by now, but we won’t.  If you know what it is off the top of your head, good job on paying attention. I mean, there won’t be a quiz or anything, but still, good work.  

BLAKE: Nothing personal, but I have to stab you a few times because I need an army.  And since we’re the heroes and you’re a glorified sneak thief, that’s gonna be fun for everyone.  

[BLAKE takes ONE STEP forward.]

SIX THOUSAND TRAPS: [ALL GO OFF AT ONCE]

[SCENE: BHELEN’S PALACE OF ETERNAL DESPAIR, int.]

BHELEN: So how was Jarvia?

BLAKE: [STILL ON FIRE]  Fuck you.  

BHELEN: Awesome.  Now, as it turns out, that was actually a waste of time. We really just need a Paragon to approve me.  

ALISTAIR: What’s that?

BHELEN: When a dwarf does something which gives great aid to their people, that they will be remembered by our people forever, they are labeled as a Paragon; a living ancestor… nay, a living god.  The word of a Paragon could make a king, for a Paragon is beyond a king.  They are beyond us all. The living expression of Dwarfkind’s greatest qualities.  And we have discovered one… may still live among us.  Paragon Branka, the greatest living dwarf of our time!  

ALISTAIR: Ooooooh. What did she do?

BHELEN: She… invented a kind of clean-burning coal.  

LELIANA: Zat… is it?

BHELEN: Yup. Canon.

BLAKE: And you made her a god for that?

WYNNE: I try not to judge foreign religions, but my word that seems a bit extreme.  

STEN: My religion lobotomizes non-believers who refuse to conform.  

WYNNE: … Okay. Well, it’s not as extreme as that.

BHELEN: I said it gave great aid to the dwarf people, not interesting aid.  Now go out into the Deep Roads and find Branka. She wandered off a few years ago and it’s a maze of death that spans the entire country, but I’m sure you’ll find her in a few hours.

ALISTAIR: If I could be a paragon, I’d like it to be for inventing a new kind of cheese.

BHELEN: Starting to question my choices in hiring you people, not gonna lie.

[SCENE: The DEEP ROADS.  Pretty much all of the DEEP ROADS look the same, so it really could be ANYWHERE IN THEM.]

BLAKE: I feel like we’re missing something…

MORRIGAN: A map?

STEN: A guide?

ALISTAIR: You look great in that outfit.  

LELIANA: Oui, mon cherie.

BLAKE: … … … … Okay, this isn’t the time and you creep me out a little, but it’s so hot when you speak Orlesian to me, baby.

ALISTAIR: Thank you! I don’t even realize when I’m doing it, apparently.

BLAKE: [SOBS for a bit.]

THE SMELL OF WHISKEY GIVEN FORM:  Heya. You guys all ran out inta the Deep Roads and forgot to talk to me.  

BLAKE: Oh, who the Hell are you now?  And you had better not be a party member because I have quite enough of those.  

A BEARD ATTACHED TO A KEG: Oh, I’m a party member.  I’m the best party member. I’m here to get drunk, sexually harass everyone, and smell weird. I’m so goddamn manly you could use my blood ta give women sex changes.  

ALISTAIR: Sexually harass everyone? I thought that was Zevran’s job.  

ZEVRAN: It isn’t sexual harassment if they love it, baby.

LIKE A DWARF, ONLY MORE ALCOHOLIC:  And they never love it with me.  I confuse and terrify people.  I. Am. OGHREN.  

[THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN shines down, illuminating OGHREN, the party member you will LAUGH AT THE MOST.  MAYBE.  If you like DRUNK DWARVES.]

BLAKE: So… um… nice to meet you?

OGHREN: Nice tits, babe.

BLAKE: … I’mma kill him.

OGHREN: Wasn’t talking to you. I meant the one with no shirt.  

MORRIGAN: … I’mma kill him.

OGHREN: The Ogh-man’s still got it.  

ALISTAIR: By ‘it’, do you mean, ‘the ability to make women furious?’

OGHREN: Why do you think Branka ran out into the middle of the monster-infested death caverns with her entire family? She was married to me.  

WYNNE: Ah. Ah.  Okay, I would have left society forever if you were my husband, I have to admit.

LELIANA: I would have left society twice. Once for ze personality, and once for ze smell.  

BLAKE: And her ex-girlfriend is a sociopathic murderer, so if even she finds you repulsive, you know you’re repulsive.  

LELIANA: How long are you going to ‘ang zat over my ‘ead? Honestly, you date one sociopazic murderer, an’ everyone judges vous forever.

OGHREN: I think I’m gonna like hanging out with you people.  You’re the same kind of chaotic mess I am, only sober.    

BLAKE: I never said you could join us.

[OGHREN has joined the PARTY.]

BLAKE: Oh, right, I forgot. I have no control over my own life.    

ALISTAIR: I think that’s your best quality.  

LELIANA: After your wonderful hair.  

MORRIGAN: I don’t know if I’d call it a quality, but it certainly makes my job a lot easier. [PAUSES] Not that I have a specific goal in the group or anything.

OGHREN: Does anyone have some beer?

[SCENE: The DEEP ROADS.  Only EVEN DEEPER.]

OGHREN: Now, Branka took our entire clan and left me, and only me, behind, so I’ve been working on a way to find her so we can be a couple again.  

LELIANA:  You didn’t take zis abandonment as a hint regarding her feelings for you?  You must learn to recognize your love’s moods, you know.  

BLAKE: That’s rich, coming from you.  

ALISTAIR: Yeah, Leliana! You really need to learn to take a hint when Blake just isn’t interested.

BLAKE:  [QUIET SOBS]

ALISTAIR: Now look, you made her cry.  

OGHREN: Whoa. I knocked back a literal gallon of vodka before I found you guys, and somehow I’m not the dumbest one in the party.  Anyone think that’s a little weird?  

STEN: If you remain in the group for long enough, you learn to not notice it. It is like a poison which causes numbness before it inevitably kills us.  

OGHREN: Neat, that’s what I drink on Thursdays, ta get me ready for the hard stuff on Friday night. Anyhoo, I know that Branka started off by going to the legendary Ortan Thaig, which is dwarven for ‘hideous poison spider ghost hellhole.’  

WYNNE: Such a beautiful language.

BLAKE: Okay, that doesn’t sound particularly nice, but if a whole army of dwarves already marched through it, I suspect we’ll be fine. I mean, they had to have already killed most of the monsters and-

[A SPIDER the size of a MINIVAN falls from the ceiling and tackles BLAKE to the ground, savaging her face with its POISON FANGS.]  

CORRUPTED SPIDER QUEEN: Hssssssssssss!*

[*TRANSLATED FROM SPIDERESE: My favorite food, people who wander too close to annoying boss fights!]

BLAKE: KILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITKILLIT-

WYNNE: [Releases the long-suffering SIGH of one who is never going to have an HOUR OF FREE TIME for the rest of her LIFE.]

[SCENE: The DEEP ROADS.  STILL.]

BLAKE: *Twitches*

ALISTAIR: Erm… honey? Are you-

BLAKE: THERE WAS A SPIDER ON MY FACE.  IT WAS LARGER THAN AVERAGE.

ALISTAIR: I’ll, erm, give you some time alone.  

BLAKE: I CUT OFF ITS HEAD.  I SHALL WEAR IT AS A HAT NOW, TO OVERCOME PERSONAL TRAUMA AND BE A BETTER PERSON.

LELIANA: *whispered* B-but she doesn’t have the….

WYNNE:  I don’t think you should mention that to her. This is my professional opinion as a psychiatrist.  

ZEVRAN: Are you a psychiatrist?

WYNNE: I don’t really need to be to analyze this one.  

ZEVRAN: Fair.  

OGHREN: Look on the bright side!  I think we’re pretty much past the worst part of the Deep Roads.  Smooth sailin’ from here, until we find Branka and everything’s great.  

[The group turns a CORNER, to find the corridors are suddenly lined with a layer of DISGUSTING FLESH that PULSATES WITH INNER CORRUPTION. It smells of ROTTING MEAT and drips VILE OOZE that steams in the DIM LIGHT of torches that use the FAT of SENTIENT BEINGS as their UNHOLY FUEL.  In a ravine below, a HORDE OF DARKSPAWN march toward the SURFACE, bringing with them DISEASE, WAR, AND DEATH.  The ARCHDEMON, a dragon of unstoppable power warped by BLIGHT into a TWISTED WINGED NIGHTMARE flies overhead, BLACK FLAME flickering around its RAZOR-EDGED MAW.]

[SCENE: The Dead Trenches.]

OGHREN: See?  It must be a nice place.  All those guys like it, an’ they can’t all be wrong.

EVERYONE ELSE: [SILENCE]

OGHREN: *belches*

BLAKE: All right, I’m feeling better about spiders, because I have this deep-seated fear popping up that something way worse is about to happen.  Anyone else getting the feeling something way worse is about to happen?

ZEVRAN: I genuinely wonder if it could get worse than what we have already seen.  

[HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  Oh, wow. Oh, wow, it CAN.  Like, holy crap.   I can’t even.]

OGHREN: Does anyone have a sandwich? I’ve been hammering down vodka for like six hours. I could use a snack.  

ZEVRAN: You genuinely worry me.  

[SCENE: DEEPER in the DEAD TRENCHES which are DEEP in the DEEP ROADS, DEEP.  DEEP.]

BLAKE: All right, I think at this point our best option is to not do anything, ever, for any reason.  Any door we open will have something awful behind it, so we just won’t open any doors.  

ZEVRAN: What if need to open a door to keep going?  

BLAKE: Then we stand next to it until we die of old age.  Because we can never, ever, open it.  Because what’s behind it will be terrible.  Look at this place. Everything about it is terrible.  Everything we find will be terrible.  Everything. Is. Terrible.  

ALISTAIR:  Honey, you’ve had a bad day, and you have some spider venom in your brain. You’re not thinking clearly. Surely not every path can lead to something awful!  

[ALISTAIR opens the first DOOR he finds. Behind is an ANCIENT DARKSPAWN FORGE, surrounded by a small ARMY of the BLOODTHIRSTY BEASTS, at the head a HIDEOUSLY WIZENED and yet TERRIFYINGLY MUSCLED ancient beast, a LEGENDARY BLADE snapped off in its hide from one of many HEROES who have FALLEN BEFORE IT.]

[ALISTAIR closes the DOOR.]

ALISTAIR: Admittedly a bad example.

ZEVRAN: So cute, yet so dumb.

ALISTAIR: What?

ZEVRAN: What?

LELIANA: Let us try zis door!  

[LELIANA opens another door. Behind is it is an ANCIENT CRYPT, carved from OBSIDIAN and swirling with the SOULS OF THE DAMNED. The GHOSTS of FALLEN DWARVES, their DARK AURA repelling even the DARKSPAWN, patrol their crypt, ready to SLAUGHTER ANY LIVING THING.]

[LELIANA closes the DOOR.]

BLAKE: ‘Cute but dumb’ is a recurring theme around here, eh?

LELIANA: You realize zat I know you are insulting me?

BLAKE: It’s okay, you’ll forgive me when I give you a present and say you have nice hair.  

LELIANA: I cannot argue with zis.  

MORRIGAN: This is amusing.  Can I open a door next?

BLAKE: No!

[MORRIGAN does not LISTEN.  Behind the door is a DWARVEN WOMAN; her eyes are coated in CATARACTS and EMPTY of all HOPE, her clothes torn, her skin COATED in FILTH and hideous BLACK LESIONS, as if she was ROTTING FROM WITHIN.  Under her breath, she repeats a terrifying rhyme about the HORRIBLE DEATHS of all her friends and loved ones.]

MORRIGAN: Ooooh, this is the most fascinating door yet.    

BLAKE: … … … What is wrong with you.  

HORRIFYING DWARF WOMAN: [I… will refrain from repeating the POEM here because if you ever played the GAME, you have heard it for years in your NIGHTMARES.  Suffice to say: NEVER EVER BE CAUGHT BY DARKSPAWN.]

OGHREN: Hespith? Damn, you’ve… looked better.  

HESPITH: I have been systematically tortured and fed the bloody flesh of my kinsmen for days on end.

OGHREN: Maybe need a bath or somethin’.  

HESPITH: Life is over. There is no hope. I seek only oblivion now.  

OGHREN: I… shit, does anyone have a beer or somethin’ for her? I drank all mine on the way here to prep me for drinking when we get home to celebrate saving Branka and the clan.

HESPITH: She betrayed us, feeding her entire clan to the Darkspawn.  The men are dead. The women are worst. I am the only survivor… … … no. No, I did not survive. My heart still beats, but I am dead. Branka is dead, for there is nothing inside her now but madness and obsession. House Branka is dead.  

OGHREN: Erm… I’m still okay?

HESPITH: [SQUINTS] … Oh sweet ancestors, it’s Oghren.  I thought I was hallucinating, but the smell of it is worse even than this pit of horrors.  Like rotting cheese and a skunk had a baby.

OGHREN: Nice to see you too. How ya doin’?  

HESPITH: I thought I was in Hell before, but fate cannot help but drag me that tiny bit lower.  

OGHREN: Yeah, running out of beer will do that. So, uh, how is Branka doing? I mean, other than… leaving you to die.  

HESPITH: You are familiar with the Anvil of the Void? The legendary tool that allows dwarves to create golems?

OGHREN: I am, and not just because you summarized it right there.

BLAKE: Thanks for doing that, by the way.

HESPITH: You’re welcome. Well, in any case, Branka quite wants it.  And she decided everyone else in the world was holding her back.  

OGHREN: Even me?

HESPITH: Especially you.  Also, I’ve been sleeping with her. For years. Before, during, and after your marriage. You are a cuckold.

OGHREN: … … ... Why would you mention that?

HESPITH: It is literally the only small joy I have left in my existence.  

BLAKE: I wish I had met you earlier. I think you and I would have gotten along before you were like… mentally and physically destroyed.  

ALISTAIR: She’s right, you know.  Oghren does smell like skunk cheese.  

LELIANA: I vould have zaid ‘badger garbage,’ but I accept many viewpoints.  

MORRIGAN: Truly, dwarfland is a wonderful place.  I may retire here one day, when my plans have come to fruition.  [PAUSE]  Not that I have any plans.  

[NOT seeing any real evidence against that ‘TALL DWARF’ theory. If she starts MINING we can pretty much CONFIRM it.]

HESPITH:  Well. You people certainly are… special. Let me tell you a fun secret. The way out of the Dead Trenches to where Branka has gone is through the door down this hallway. Have fun.

BLAKE: Is the secret really fun?

HESPITH: [RESUMES saying her CREEPY RHYME.]

BLAKE: Okay, I’m choosing to stay optimistic about the secret. We don’t know for sure it won’t be fun.    

[SCENE: Through the DOOR, in a room that looks like the WOMB in which is gestating the baby of SATAN and HITLER.]

BROODMOTHER, HIDEOUSLY BLOATED, PALLID, DEFORMED TENTACLE BEAST FROM THE PITS OF HELL: Hrrrrrrrsssssssss!

BLAKE: WHY DOES IT HAVE BOOBS?!

ALISTAIR: I’M NOT HAVING FUN!

LELIANA: OH GOD THE SMELL IS SO AWFUL I CAN FEEL IT IN MY MOUTH!

ZEVRAN: THE VERY CONCEPT OF SEX HAS BECOME DISGUSTING TO ME!

MORRIGAN: Ooooh, fascinating.  

STEN: If you ever wondered why I don’t talk much? This would be why. Moments like this.

DOG: Bark, bark!

STEN: You’re the only one of these people I can respect.

BROODMOTHER, THE NIGHTMARE OF SIGMUND FREUD AFTER A WEEK-LONG TRIP THROUGH THE PORN DISTRICTS OF JAPAN: [GIVES birth to a THOUSAND ANGRY YOUNG, who charge at the party, screaming and coated in VILE BLACK OOZE.]

BLAKE: [Throws up.]

OGHREN: Either I’m drunk, or that lady just spat a buncha darkspawn out of her-

BLAKE: YOU’RE DRUNK AND THAT HAPPENED.

OHGREN: Damn. That’s like, 50% bad.

WYNNE: [Just SIGHS and starts casting the HEALING SPELLS. ALISTAIR is already being CHEWED ON.]

[SCENE: Still in the DEEP ROADS, and interlocking WEB of tunnels that nonetheless still only have ONE ROUTE to FOLLOW.]

BLAKE: [CLEANING something off her FACE that one probably shouldn’t THINK ABOUT too hard.]  All right. All right. All right.  We are sure the thing is dead, yes?  We are sure? Because we’ll have to come back this way and I wanna know. I never, ever want to see another of those again.  Ever.

[Hahaha… yeah, ABOUT THAT.]

BLAKE: You stay out of this.  Sten, did you perform the operation?

STEN: [Holds up BROODMOTHER’S disgusting head.]  I’m not sure why I’m the one who has to carry this.

BLAKE: Because you’re the biggest. You have the most meat to get through if it comes alive and starts trying to eat people.  

STEN: I have grown to hate you.  

BLAKE: Don’t be uncool about this, Sten. I’ll reward you.  Two extra portions of gruel for you at the camp this evening.  

ALISTAIR: We have other food, you know. You don’t have to feed us gruel all the time.  

BLAKE: And you don’t have to talk, but that’s never stopped you.

MORRIGAN: [SIGHS WISTFULLY.]  Have I ever told you that I’d ride you like a stallion if you were a guy?

BLAKE: You have, and it never stops being off-putting.  

MORRIGAN: You know it, tiger.

BLAKE: You know, the only reason I’m even still sane is that we have just been through a ridiculous mess that was longer than the stupid elf forest and the stupid wizard tower combined. So I know we’re done. Okay? This has to be the end.  

[Because BLAKE still has not learned to TEMPT FATE for some reason, a DWARF appears on the rocky cliffs above them, looking down, even as a huge metal gate SLAMS SHUT behind the party.]

CUCKOO FOR COCOA PUFFS: Done? Fools! You have an entire dungeon left, bwahahahahahahaha!  

OGHREN: Honey bear!  

WACK-A-DOODLE DANDY: Eh? Who are you?

OGHREN: It’s me! Oghren!

ONE PICKAXE SHORT OF A DWARF MINE: Who?

OGHREN: … Your husband? You… we were married for years?

LOONEY TUNES, WELCOME TO THE SPACE JAM: Gonna have to be more specific. I used to have a lot of relatives, before I fed them all to the darkspawn to further my insane goals.  They all kind of blend together in the razor-filled soup that is my mind.  [PAUSES.]  Bwahahahahahahaha!

OGHREN: *sigh* Everyone, this is Branka.  

BLAKE: [BLINKS a few times.]  So, hey, Leliana, you may have just graduated to having the second-worst ex out of anyone in the party. Congrats.

LELIANA: Ze trick is to shine by comparison.  

BRANKA: None may shine but Branka!  Am I not the greatest of all dwarves? Did I not come up with the brilliant plan to find the Anvil of the Void by opening the door and letting infinite darkspawn funnel in until the traps in front of it just stop working from getting too much blood in them? Did I not abandon all of my friends and family to a fate worse than death, letting them be defiled and mutated into hideous bloated monsters, in order to ensure this supply?  

[SILENCE.]

BLAKE: I… um… holy shit, did you?

BRANKA: I did!

BLAKE: Sweet Andraste’s ass. Leliana, the ambiguity is gone. You win. You win forever.  I miss Marjolaine.  I would pay literal money to have Marjolaine standing here in front of us right now.    

LELIANA: [Grins SMUGLY.]

STEN: I do believe we have met a leader worse than our own. I had considered this to be nearly impossible. But the world is a strange and many-faceted place, full of new experiences and diverse peoples. [PAUSE.]  I look forward to the day my people conquer and destroy it all.

BLAKE: Hey. Eat a dick, buddy.

STEN: I am not hungry.

BRANKA: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  You’ll need to find your way through all the traps and reach the Anvil of the Void to escape this terrible dungeon, you fools! [PAUSE]  BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

MORRIGAN: I actually forgot she was here.  Do you suppose we should proceed forward? I should like to have this Anvil for my own use, of course, but honestly more than anything I suspect we’ll need to kill that one at the end of this whole mess, and I deeply wish to.

OGHREN: We’re not killing her, crazy-tits! She’s my wife!    

MORRIGAN: You saying that only makes me want to kill her more.

WYNNE: Sweet Andraste, I think I actually semi-agree with Morrigan.  

MORRIGAN: That’s weird.  

BRANKA: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  

MORRIGAN: Though also, in this one case, understandable.  

BLAKE: Wow. I… this might be the first time we’ve all agreed on something. Branka is annoying enough to kill. Unanimous vote?

OGHREN: I said no!

BLAKE: Unanimous it is.

[SCENE:  A cave that looks pretty much like EVERY cave.  The DEEP ROADS are so INTERESTING.]

BLAKE: All right. She said there would be traps, so we can assume things are going to be troublesome here.

LELIANA: But my love, we ‘ave me ‘ere to disarm all ze traps we might see.  

BLAKE: Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!  Y-you’re gonna disarm the trapsHAHAHAHAHAHA!  

LELIANA: Zis makes you happy, I see.

BLAKE: [WIPES AWAY a tear of mirth.]  S-sure. That’s why I was laughing.  I can’t think of any other reason I might be laughing. It’s not as though every single trap we’ve ever encountered in this entire game has exploded in our faces because you don’t notice them until we’re already standing in them half the time. I’d never think such things.  

LELIANA: I know vous would not. Now, as my approval has hit ze high 70’s and we ‘ave done my sidequest, let us make passionate love when next we return to camp.  

BLAKE: … … … Sometimes you people being dumbasses works out for me.

ALISTAIR: I love you too, dear.  

[BLAKE reaches out and pushes ALISTAIR one step FORWARD, setting off a HORRIBLE TRAP.]

LELIANA: [OBSERVING THIS] Trap, right ahead!

[The HALLWAY fills with POISONOUS GAS, causing ALISTAIR to fall to his knees and begin CHOKING to DEATH.  Even as this occurs, GOLEMS wake up on either side of the HALLWAY, preparing to PULVERIZE him.]

MORRIGAN: ‘Tis like every birthday present my mother never bothered to give me because birthdays are for the weak, delivered to me all at once.  

WYNNE: [NARROWS EYES.]  You people just delight in making my job harder, don’t you?  You kill Alistair all you want, and then I have to heal him.  You  think that’s easy? Or fun?  I would like to have time to read a nice book from time to time, not just put everyone’s kidneys back in their bodies.  

ALISTAIR: Sweet Andraste my kidneys! They’re out of my body, because of the golems!

WYNNE: You’re being quite inconvenient, young man!

[SCENE: The NEXT HALLWAY.]

BLAKE: Okay.  Everyone, this hallways seems much nicer than the first one.   I suspect it to be a, you know, breather after the first hallway.  I think that one of you should get to lead the way, and really enjoy it.  

STEN: I can see the golems standing there. On the sides.

BLAKE: No, you don’t.

STEN: Yes, I do. I see them.

BLAKE: They might not be golems.  They might just be statues.  

STEN: They look exactly like the other golems, from the first hallway. Whoever goes first will clearly be beaten horribly by them.

BLAKE: We don’t know that. And I think it’s worth sending in Oghren in first to check.  

STEN: Oh. I didn’t realize you were building to that. Yes, then, I agree.

OGHREN: The hell, you guys?!

DOG: Woof, woof!  

OGHREN: Thank you.  

BLAKE: He was actually saying that your smell sickens him and he hopes your death removes it from the world.  

OGHREN: … Yer dog’s a jerk.

BLAKE: [Reaches out a HAND, and shoves OGHREN one step FORWARD.]

[NOTHING happens.]

OGHREN: … …  Huh. Maybe this hallway actually was a breather.  I mean, nothing seems to be…

[GIANT RAZOR-EDGED BUZZSAWS erupt from the floor and ceiling, burying OGHREN in a STORM of BLADES.]

MORRIGAN: Whoever designed this place has a very interesting sense of humor. I wonder if they design swamp cottages? I really was looking to trade up.

BLAKE: On the plus side, the golems don’t seem to have woken… oh, never mind, there they do.  

OGHREN: Oh ancestors, my kidneys!

LELIANA: Trap, right ahead!

[SCENE: The FINAL puzzle room. It is a large, open chamber, with a large FOUR-FACED STATUE in the middle surrounded by ANVILS.]

BLAKE: Okay, so this chamber is probably the breather one.  Zevran, you go first!

ZEVRAN: I thought you liked me.  

BLAKE: I’m running low on sacrificial lambs.

ZEVRAN: Send Morrigan!

BLAKE: She’s scarier than you.

MORRIGAN: It’s true!  

ZEVRAN: [Sighs DEEPLY and steps FORWARD.]

STATUE: [Comes ALIVE and begins spawning an ARMY OF GHOSTS.]

ZEVRAN: Oh, that isn’t so bad. At least no poison gas or razor blades hit me.

ALISTAIR: Screw you.  

OGHREN: Seriously.

[What FOLLOWS is what is known in video-game parlance as a PUZZLE BOSS.  In this particular case, the HEROES must destroy the GHOSTS, which causes an ANVIL to activate. Then you ACTIVATE the anvil to attack the MAIN STATUE.  This sounds kind of INTERESTING.]

[It is NOT.]

ZEVRAN: *Yawn*

MORRIGAN: Oh my non-existent Maker, these things are so tedious.  We’ve turned on these damnable anvils five times already and it’s just won’t end.  

BLAKE: I think it’s just three more, guys.  Come on, this is clearly meant to be the puzzle that makes people stop coming for the Anvil of the Void because they get bored and go grab lunch instead.  We just have to power through it.  

WYNNE: I could do without the statue shooting just enough damage to be annoying but not enough to kill anyone.  

BLAKE: We could all do without that, Wynne, but you don’t see us whining about it.  

LELIANA: Vould anyone like to take a break for lunch? We ‘ave been in ze Deep Roads for a long time, and zis stupid boss…

BLAKE: No!  Look, we have to be near the end.  I know it’s tedious, but we gotta get this done, and then we go back to the surface and never, ever come back.  

ALISTAIR: Who would possibly be cruel enough to design this place?  

[SCENE: BIOWARE OFFICES.]

PROGRAMMER: Hey, Bob. We have all the major quests for Dragon Age: Origins ready except the two you were supposed to design.  Do you happen to have them set?  

RAOUL: [Twists his SINISTER MOUSTACHE while looking with GLEE at the completed maps for the DEEP ROADS and the CIRCLE TOWER.  They take up his ENTIRE DESK and most of the one NEXT to it.]  Yes… yesssssssssssss…. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  

PROGRAMMER: You’ve been weird ever since you grew that moustache, Bob.  

[SCENE: The ANVIL OF THE VOID.  The great device itself gleams with flame; and who can say whether this is the POWER within it, or merely the UNTOLD MAJESTY of the lava fields it OVERLOOKS? Standing before it is the most ORNATE and POWERFUL of all golems, forged not from STONE but from interlocking, rune-covered STEEL PLATES.  It gives off an aura of quiet power and DIGNITY.]

BLAKE: You can go to Hell and die, jackass.

GOLEM: … Excuse me?

BLAKE: Oh. OH!  I’m sorry. I thought you were going to be another goddamn boss fight.  Just that we’ve gone through like six at this point.  

GOLEM: Oh.  Right, you must be the ones I heard fighting the four-faced statue. Did you have fun?

BLAKE: …

MORRIGAN: I’m going to kill it and make a cooking pot of its skull.  

ZEVRAN: I shall cook delightful Antivan dishes in it.  

DOG: Bark, bark.  

BLAKE: You don’t want to know what he said.  And now, let’s all kill this thing.  

GOLEM: Wait, wait.  I would like to offer you an alternative path. You see, I may look like a giant metal golem, but I am actually Caridin, the original creator of this mighty anvil you see before you.

BLAKE: Huh. Interesting. I’m sorry I called you a thing, then. Kill this guy, everyone.

CARIDIN: Would you please stop.  

BLAKE: Sorry, I’m in a bad mood. I’ll allow you to talk.

MORRIGAN: But my cooking pot!

BLAKE: I will buy you a cooking pot.  

MORRIGAN: You never let me have anything I want.  

BLAKE: We would get you things that you want, but you always want evil!  Caridin, just ignore her, she’s the evil one.

CARIDIN: I’m actually getting the impression most of you are pretty evil.  

BLAKE: Leliana and Wynne are nice.  

ALISTAIR: What about me?

BLAKE: You don’t count, because to be ‘good’ you have to be smart enough to have some general idea of what is going on around you in the universe.  Much like a goldfish isn’t good or evil, you aren’t.    

ALISTAIR: I love you too, dear.  

CARIDIN:  … Sure. Anyway, what I was going to say here, is that you should actually destroy this Anvil.  Because you see, Golems are people.

BLAKE: Oh. Um. I should probably mention we killed like twelve on our way here.

CARIDIN: I… oh, shit. Was one of those Jeff? Because Jeff owed me twenty silver.  

ALISTAIR: How would we know?

CARIDIN: He was made of stone.

LELIANA: Zat narrows it down very little.  Also, how are ze golems made of ze people?  I ‘ave seen zem, and zey are in fact made of ze stone, or in vous case ze metal.

CARIDIN: … What even is your accent?

BLAKE: Hey!  We’ve already been over that.  It doesn’t need to make sense. Tell us the story of your stupid past and don’t lead us off on any tangents, or we’ll be on it for another damn hour.  

ALISTAIR: Hey, have you guys ever thought about pudding?

BLAKE:  NO TANGENTS.

CARIDIN: Well. The way I discovered to make golems was to shove a person into a giant rock suit, and then pour molten hot magic rocks on them.  But it wasn’t until they made me a golem that I realized: this was bad.

BLAKE: ……………….

LELIANA: ………………….

WYNNE: ………………….

MORRIGAN: I don’t see the issue.  

BLAKE: Morrigan!  Stop helping!  

WYNNE: You truly didn’t see the issue with pouring molten rock on your people, sir golem-dwarf?

CARIDIN: Well, they were poor.  

MORRIGAN: Makes perfect sense to me!

ZEVRAN: You terrify me. And I am an assassin.  

STEN: In my country, we would have cut his eyes out and sewn his mouth shut.  

ZEVRAN: Erm… as punishment for… mutilating thousands of his own people?

STEN: No, we just do that to anyone who uses magic. As is right and proper.

ZEVRAN: I… am an assassin. And I am not the scariest person on this team. I… how did this happen? I mean, I still have my position as the sexy one, but still.  

BLAKE: Oh, whatever. You know what? I don’t even care. Let’s just break this thing and go home, it’s not like we actually like Bhelen. No need for another stupid boss fight.

BRANKA: DID SOMEONE ORDER ANOTHER STUPID BOSS FIGHT?!

BLAKE: [Kind of TWITCHES.]

[SCENE: ORZAMMAR, about a MONTH LATER.  The team WANDERS into the CITY, because to WALK into a city you need to have some DIGNITY REMAINING.  NOBODY looks very HAPPY, nobody is TALKING, and BLAKE still has a bit of BRANKA on her.]

OGHREN: …. Did ya really have to cut off her…

BLAKE: I SWEAR I WILL EAT YOUR HEART.

STEN: She may in fact do it. Her mind is unstable.  [PAUSES]  More than the rest of you, I mean.

LELIANA: Oh, and you are ze paragon of sanity?

STEN: I am a member of a fanatical expansionist brainwashing cult.  [PAUSES]  So yes.  

WYNNE: I miss my demon-infested tower.  

OGHREN: But now, seriously, you cut off her-

BLAKE: HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

[SCENE: Inside the DWARVEN ASSEMBLY HALL.]

BHELEN: I should be king!

HARROWMONT: Nuh-uh!

BHELEN: Uh-huh!  

DWARVEN POLITICIAN: Sweet ancestors, the chance to see such wondrous political masters at work is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

DWARVEN POLITICIAN 2: The pinnacle of dwarven culture, we see before us.  

BHELEN: You smell!

HARROWMONT: Your mom smells!  

[The AIR grows COLD.  BLAKE enters.  Nobody seems HAPPY TO SEE HER.]

BLAKE: Everyone. Shut up. Bhelen, you are king now. Paragon said so.  And if anyone questions it, I will gut everyone in this room.  

HARROWMONT: Which para-

[SCENE: BHELEN’s THRONE ROOM.]

BHELEN: I can’t believe she cut off all their-

OGHREN: Shit, quiet, she’s waking up, don’t let her hear you say that.

BLAKE: Uuuuugh… my head hurts…

MORRIGAN: [With one BLACK EYE, and walking on CRUTCHES.]  Oh, yes, once again the real problem is how uncomfortable you are. Bitch.  

ALISTAIR: Are you okay, my little rose blossom?  I’m afraid you had a… tiny episode.

WYNNE: The Dwarves no longer have a senate. I’m not sure that’s tiny.  

LELIANA: She was not foaming at ze mouth like after ze mage tower, that’s a step in ze right direction.

ZEVRAN: I have to guess the new king won’t be happy, though…

BHELEN: Actually, I was probably going to have them all killed and blame it on foreigners eventually. Now I don’t have to put in the effort, so hey, win-win.

BLAKE: … … …  I think I have dwarf blood in my mouth.

STEN: There was some biting. It was quite efficient. I assume you learned it from your exceptional dog.

DOG: Bark, bark!

STEN: You remain the only one of this group I respect.

BLAKE: I… ugh. You know what, screw it. Things ended well…

WYNNE: Not for the dwarves you bit to death!

BLAKE: Not counting them. And Bhelen will give me his army now. Won’t he?

BHELEN: Of course. The dwarves always stand ready to face our ancient foes, the Darkspawn, be it beneath the ground or above it. I shall give you the sum total of my military force, the mightiest army on Thedas.  I shall give you an overwhelming horde of professional killers, each one weaned on the blood of their foes. I shall give you… [PAUSE for DRAMATIC EFFECT]… fifty soldiers!

[BLAKE takes this information IN.]

[SCENE: The ROYAL PALACE in DENERIM]

LOGHAIN: So my daughter, the queen? She was asking if I had her husband killed to take his throne and now I’m locking her in the palace so she can’t run the country without me.  

TIM CURRY: Oh shit, what did you tell her?

LOGHAIN: I kind of coughed and pretended I didn’t hear her.  I mean, how do you reply to that?

TIM CURRY: We should kill her.  

LOGHAIN: I… what? No. She’s my daughter, you asshole.  We’re not killing her.

TIM CURRY: I’d kill her if she was my daughter. Watch, let me get my daughter.

LOGHAIN: No!  Dude, nobody’s daughter is getting killed. We’ll just keep her locked up until I defeat everyone who thinks I shouldn’t be running the country, then kill all the Grey Wardens, then defeat the infinite horde of monsters. It’s all just tactics, really. Then she can have her country back.

TIM CURRY: I’ll get a knife.

LOGHAIN: Stop that. Seriously, I’m really questioning why I let you in on this conspira-

[An ear-splitting SHRIEK, like a TORTURED CAT being STEPPED ON by an ELEPHANT with a FOOT INFECTION that is being RIDDEN by an easily started OPERA SINGER, rings through the PALACE. No, the WORLD.  Carried by the endless chasms of the DEEP ROADS, it ECHOES into ETERNITY, bringing with it a WAVE of almost PALPABLE FRUSTRATION that makes everyone who hears it feel SLIGHTLY WORSE about the way their LIFE has been going so far.]

LOGHAIN: …

TIM CURRY: …

LOGHAIN: You know, I got the strangest feeling that was like, exactly fifty dwarves worth of rage.  Don’t ask me why. Weird, right?    

TIM CURRY: So… um… wanna sell some city elves into slavery to pay for our war?

LOGHAIN:  Do I ever!