Thread: A Defiant Age (Post DA2 - Cevl n' Myself)

Much had changed since the days when she had associated herself with The Wardens, in company with the Hero of Fereldan in his humble days, whom she had thought - through everything - had been her friend. That night, when she had offered him a way out, to avoid an unnecessary death, he had quite flatly denied her. How could she blame such simple minded men? He had claimed to want Loghain, the traitor that had left them all to die at Ostagar, to kill the Archdemon for his crimes against Fereldan. And he had, that fool general had taken the final blow and had perished along with the demon. Morrigan had watched, outside the city in one of her bestial forms, as the Wardens and his companions had saved the land. In a way, she couldn't have helped feeling betrayed she had come to trust him, and had hoped that he would do the same. She had left Fereldan after three or four years of being an apostate mage wandering the wilds of the continent. The mage had assumed that, when the Warden had slain her mother, it had been for good rumor had it that a young man, from Lothering, had delivered one of her mother's trinkets to the Dalish Elves in the Free Marches. It would seem her mother was more clever than she had given her credit for she wasn't about to let the old crone think she was afraid. Just what was that bitter old woman up to? Traveling to the Free Marches was decided to be the best move against her mother, but she waited another two to three years before she made her way to Gwaren, where she took ship best to be inconspicuous when the war against magic was just brewing beneath the surface, threatening to boil over and scar the land. The Dalish - they had given her little to no information, which was what she had expected. The next two to three years were spent indulging her mother, searching the Free Marches and even to Tevinter for the crone, before she returned to the wilds of the Free Marches just in time to see Kirkwall descent into madness. A mage, one she had heard had served the Wardens against the Brood Mother and The Architect, was rumored to have lost his mind, blowing up the chantry of Kirkwall. He had escaped capture somehow, and the refugee, The Champion she had heard of - this Hawke - had sided with the mages in the dispute, protecting them from the tyrannical rule and unjust Right of Annulment. Morrigan had heard everything, as she always did, whether in her bodily form, or that of an animal. News was fast spreading, she had learned since leaving the sheltered life she had led with her mother in the Kocari Wilds. It was best to leave the Free Marches with the war in Kirkwall threatening to spill out over the land Hawke had angered the Prince of Starkhaven so there was to be some form of retribution, she knew. Somehow. Some way. With that in mind, she headed north. A day into her travels she had come face to face with a band of thieves a smirk had curled her lips when they threatened to overwhelm her, and a glint had made her yellow eyes almost predatory. The magic came to her as easily as it always did, striking down thief after thief when she became bored, she rushed forward and leaped, shifting into a giant spider before she proceeded to tear apart the remaining men who were now running for their lives and trying desperately to escape her. Ah, what irony - the land still had much to learn of her.