Ostagar

The human king is an idiot. Mother told me of well intentioned fools, but I always assumed they were mythical figures like loyal elves or drunken dwarves. Yet there he stood in all his amiable idiotic glory. I remembered my nursery tales and strove mightily to put him at ease. The heroine in the story is always polite and agreeable until she sleeps with him then poisons him. Camp rumour has it that Cailan is married. With any luck she's flexible. Ensnaring both partners in a royal couple was always the goal in the old stories.

Reading back on this, I can hardly believe myself. The king is either not an idiot and pretends to be so, or he is an idiot and is kept that way by those who really pull the strings. Either way, I need more information. Honestly, this world is starting to get to me. Fairy stories come to life, indeed.

The Darkspawn sound promising, they have serious potential. Semi mindless minions who poison everything they come into contact? What's not to love? Dig and line a pit, toss some of the short ones down there and prisoner interrogation and disposal become a snap. Apparently most humans who contact them die slowly. Some have their brains turned to mush. Limitless entertainment right there. If I can discover some way to train them, then they are even better. These genlocks sound like multipurpose potential slaves. And the kicker is that Gray Wardens know some way to handle them without getting ill themselves. I thought getting out of the Tower was a good reason to 'volunteer'. Beholders couldn't keep me out of this Joining. I need pet darkspawn.

----

Okay, I didn't expect the Joining to work that way. I see the logic. A lot of antidotes are based upon the poison itself. But being trapped there with a templar just out of eye sight meant I couldn't back out or try later. I did survive, so I can now detect darkspawn and survive contact with them. When I passed out (and I am not happy about being unconscious and defenseless) I dreamed of a greyish dragon. This is apparently the archdemon. Have I mentioned how much I hate this world? The head of this darkspawn horde is apparently a muddy coloured blighted dragon.

After the poison drinking, I was summoned with the old fool to a 'strategy meeting'. Most of it was the sort of strategy fools come up with. Battles are for men and minions. Rulers lead from behind, in safety. I'm starting to believe that this Anora really does run the country. It would certainly be a sensible arrangement. Let the idiot run about in a shiny suit until he gets killed, then recruit another man for his place. My part in the battle plan only reinforces my suspicions in that regard. The templar and I are to go light a fire at the top of a tower. That the templar bears a striking resemblance to the current king is of course a complete coincidence. The man whined about his role. I like it. We should have a lovely view of the battle and thus have plenty of time to run if it goes wrong.

----

I do not like this world. The idiot humans allowed their foe to over run a major fortification in their rear. We had to fight our way through it. The three human soldiers made me accompany them to the top, even though I assured them my magic grew more powerful with distance. And there is no talking with darkspawn. They smell bad and they grunt. Some of them appear out of nowhere, but I'm not complaining about that. The one thing this world does do well is stealth. If I can only figure out some way to recruit the darkspawn, I'd have poisonous, vanishing guards and who wouldn't want that?

Of course there was a really large darkspawn at the top. They call them ogres, which is a bit of a misnomer, but that's this idiot world all over. We killed it. We lit the beacon. Half of the army fled, which was sensible. The other half acted foolishly and died.

We were rescued by a {the paper is torn here}

Orzammar

In the end, we went to Orzammar. There's every chance we'll all die on this mad quest (Did I mention drow generally don't do quests? Quests are for lesser races) and I wanted to get some pleasure before I snuffed it on this alien world. Orzammar was everything I hoped for and more. We had to fight Loghain's idiot ambassador and his bodyguards before we even entered the city. It was like being back home. I need to back up a bit.

The dwarves had closed their doors for some religious reason. As a result a squalid little tent city of merchants sprang up outside their gates. It had almost everything a proper city needs, paid thugs of various sorts, bounty hunters, inept ambassadors, weasely, greasy merchants and rumour mongers. After we slew Unbent (yes, that probably isn't his name. Don't really care, he's dead), we entered the city. Orzammar is just the sort of place the dwarves back home would build. If the Moria Construction Company is here, they might know a way for me to get home. Or recruit reinforcements.

After leaving the room of overcompensating statues we witnessed a political murder. It was a faction fight between the two contenders for the throne, Lord Harrible and Prince Baleful. Journal, I was giddy. It was like being home again. Bailwire's followers killed a Hairmutt leader and then everyone fled. My pet elf made a very valid point about the constancy of each leader's followers. Blabla clearly had the more dedicated crew. I made a mental note to pay more attention to Zevthingy. I may even have to learn his name. The fight did solidify my decision about whom to back. A quick discussion with their managers confirmed my choice. The prince's guy wanted me to pass some forged documents onto the lord's supporters and get them to reconsider. It was a good plan, if a bit crude, and my respect for him grew. The prince was probably the favourite. Plus, when Leliana robbed him, she wound up with a great shield. We're starting to get some really nice things.

The lord's guy wanted us to convince some of his own thugs, including a relation, to fight for him. These guys were so going down. I thought about working the two factions and doing all the errands for both, but outsiders in a close environment could easily be snuffed by a temporary alliance. Instead, I chose and ran with my choice. The prince was the stronger candidate, so he really didn't need outside help. The lord guy was clearly doomed unless someone stepped in. If he did become king, he'd be a weak king. You never want a strong ruler for a puppet. You want someone dependent upon you. Hallowseve was clearly the right dwarf for the job.

I won the fighting matches solo and walked away with a really nice set of rings. There's a spell, crushing prison, that is eminently satisfactory. We cleared the underground of a fair amount of darkspawn. We found out where they come from. If I can ever figure out a way to control them, it will be so awesome. I'll never execute a single one of my rivals, just turn her over to my tainted minions and she in turn will make more of them. What was distressing was my continued inability to communicate with this world's giant spiders. It's not that we don't speak the same language, it's that they don't talk at all. I'd like to think it's the taint, but we've encountered untainted spiders and I couldn't hear them either. So much of this world is just wrong.

In the end, we did the right thing, which is really weird, and obtained the golems for Oghren's ex-wife. Oghren is a fat, smelly, drunk dwarf fighter who has joined our cause. My plan for handling him is simple, any time he balks, ply him with some more liquor. Whether his liver melts or he dies in battle, either way I'll use him til he drops. Oh, and most importantly, I learned how to cast spells and still wear armour! I've felt hideously vulnerable since the templars took my armour away when I first arrived. Not any more!

Once the dwarves were serving my puppet, we took some time out. I read this fascinating black book I had found in the Tower. It was ever so tempting, dealing with life preservation by soul transference. but it turned out that's only practicable when the caster is merged with a demon. I'm sticking with blood magic for life extension. My mother warned me, and rightly so, against giving up pieces of your soul. 'Sharing is undrowlike', she used to say. In the end, I gave the book to Morrigan. Which was an excellent decision, even if it was impromptu.

My favourite mage had a very entertaining meltdown right in camp. Apparently the book was Flemeth's orginally. Morrigan says that the transference method was how Flemeth stayed alive all this time. Raising a daughter to be the vessel of your soul when your aged is something I can respect. Morrigan asked me to kill Flemeth and not take Morrigan with me when I did it. I could not refuse her.

After a pleasurable time looting the old battle site at Ostagar, I left my minions at our camp and went to have a chat with Flemeth, alone.

I received the shock of my life. I hid my reaction, I think, but I am shaken to the core.

Flemeth spoke to me in my native tongue. My brains seized up. I may have gabbled a bit. In the end we chatted some and she let me have her spell book. I read it quickly and turned it over to Morrigan.

Flemeth, when you read this, know this, I hold you in almost the same high regard I hold my own mother.

{Written in another hand is the word: Touching}

I have a lot to think over before we turn to our next task.

{At least one page is missing here}
were pathetic and repetitive but I did get to practice my spell combinations. I do not know if magic works the same back home, being a cleric I never needed to study the lesser sources of power, but if it does, then combiners of spells bear watching. Watching your enemies fall down and then shocked to death never fails to amuse.

After our shopping expedition to the capitol it was time to pay my surface cousins a visit. I had heard that the elves of this world were degraded but the rumour did not prepare me for the reality. They live in wagons made of sticks hauled by dung excreting albino deer. Almost at once I was asked for advice about them and I gave honest counsel and recommended the beast be put down. If nothing else, this emaciated band of losers would have a decent dinner. I was then told they do not eat friends.

Journal, my heart broke. I was willing to accept that this lot were ignorant barbarians, but to be reduced to claiming parasite ridden herbivores as friends, I just wanted to weep. Not having come from a barbarous background, my people's training held and I resolved to help them. Their leader, Zadsack, apparently needed a werewolf's heart to cure his hunters from a dread curse. It was entirely too sad. Here these people were sucking up to walking fertilizer factories when there was a perfectly good race of werewolves just begging for guidance. The Danish elves had their priorities seriously out of alignment.

Before I left to find the leader of the wolves, I did have an amusing evening. One elf who was even more pathetic than the rest, which really defied all belief, claimed that the girl of his dreams would not bed him as long as he didn't have a pelt. Journal, my heart was moved. Even though he looked as sad as he sounded, I bedded him. Those thigh exercises are always worth doing. After an hour or so of almost pleasure, I left the sack and proceeded to seduce the girl. She was a delight. Their expressions when each learned what the other had been up to were simply priceless. His expression the next day when I returned from the forest the next day with an armful of pelts and in a loud, clear, ringing voice told him to 'pick one' was even funnier. The looks his tribe mates gave him were funniest of all.

After entirely too much side business I finally made it to the leader of the pack. Where I learned to my companions' amazement and not mine, that Zafdoodle had misled us. I forged an eternal alliance with the werewolves and we proceeded to improve the breeding stock of this world's elves immeasurably. This side trip had proved to be far more fun that I originally thought. There are apparently other packs of these Dada elves infesting the continent. With any luck I'll be able to repeat this week's fun.

I forgot to mention that Zebrun is apparently half wood elf. I'm rethinking the whole sire of my children thing, but perhaps environment does triumph over breeding. I can certainly provide a proper environment for my children.