17th of Kingsway, Dragon 9:43
The chevalier and I continued to ring each other like bells for the next few minutes, and given our rate of progress, we’d probably have been at it ‘til the Maker comes down to get us if we’d been left uninterrupted. As it happened, though, there was suddenly an almighty bang, followed by a roar as the stadium started coming down. The chevalier took off like a shot, and I went after him, figuring he was going to try and assist. Seems I gave him too much credit, though, because the tin-plated nancy-boy ran off through a gap in the wall, and Maker only knows where he went after that. We haven’t seen him since.
Well, being slightly less of an arsehole, I elected to stick around and help wherever I could. There were a fair few people buried under the rubble, though thankfully not nearly as many as there could have been; apparently my fight with the chevalier was so incredibly boring that my party members were able to evacuate the vast majority of the people in the stands before the bombs went off. Little blessings, I suppose. One of the people we found buried in the rubble was Dro, who seemed like he had maybe half a dozen breaths left in his body when we dug him out, but thankfully Daryel was able to do what he does best before Dro shuffled off this mortal coil. In fact, when all was said and done, everyone I know was safe and accounted for — including that archer, who seems to have picked us up another hanger-on in the form of some roguish-looking lad that he’s constantly bickering with.
We all met up with Lord Raynor, the head of the tourney, and frankly I was half expecting him to have us nailed to a tree for this debacle. Instead, since our failure only resulted in the destruction of a major civic center and the deaths of three thousand people (as opposed to ten thousand), he apparently decided that was good enough for government work and rewarded us with silver, jewels, and finely-crafted arms and armor. On top of that, since I technically won the tournament on account of the chevalier running off with his tail between his legs, we also got to claim the hammer that was the point of this whole exercise. Apparently if you’re holding the thing and you… think… at it… hard enough?… it immediately heats up to smithing temperature. I couldn’t make it work, but Dro could, and I swear he was giggling like a schoolboy as he ran off to start forging any piece of metal he could get his hands on. One of his first projects was a new head for my spear, which seems sharp enough that it’ll make a right mess of any more tin-plated nancy boys I might have the misfortune to encounter in the future. I definitely owe him for this. With our business out here concluded, we hopped aboard a ship that Raynor was kind enough to provide to take us back to Ferelden. Since a couple of those Grey Wardens are stationed in Denerim — Rickon Gervais and that one-eyed fellow who apparently goes by Jerrod — they’ll be riding along with us.
Dro bought a portable forge and a bunch of metal so he could continue to make things on the voyage. I mean it when I say the man’s passionate about his hobbies.