I am, most decidedly, a city half-elf. I was born to prowl streets and deal with (manipulate or steal from) normal, everyday people. When I first stumbled across the Grey Wardens in Magnimar, I should have listened to the voice that told me to run far, far away. Instead, I find myself missing the days when all we had to deal with were a haunted mansion and a family of inbred ogrekin. I would rather be back inside that stinking, putrescent house instead of in this godsforsaken cave in the middle of nowhere, dealing with the demons that lay within.
The demons were able to manipulate me – ME! It was almost laughably easy and I find myself both ashamed and terrified by turn. The giants wielding sex toys as weapons did not faze me. The ranger half-naked is a sight I shall never be able to unsee and merely gave me pause. That I was turned against those I hold most dear (well, not dear perhaps, but useful) shakes me to my very core. If it weren’t for my obligation to slay darkspawn and our need of the ranger and his crossbow, I might have said, “Good riddance!” and left. Instead, we went deeper into a place I would have rather not explored.
As we entered the room where the demons held (literally) Garrett, I could no longer understand why this might be a bad idea, and that is the most frightening thing of all. I was more than happy to charge right into battle, screaming and drawing attention to myself. This is the way of the brash Samdar and Bral, not my more sensible self. Several of the party members also behaved unlike themselves: Garrett protected a demon and the cat-thing attacked the small one. I threw myself into a whirlwind to gain position to attack Beldal, probably the only likeable party member. It was pandemonium.
Only through the gods of Beldal and Samdar were the demons defeated. When next we find ourselves in a town and after I am able to breathe deep of the air of civilization and clear my mind of this insanity, I shall have to pay my respects at their temples.