Darkspawn Overlord

Archdemon Vessel

Metal clangs and lovely screams everywhere. Smell of fear and blood floods the air. Your body feels light. Comforting weight of the song in your head. Archdemon's song. It pounds in your head. Every throb brings new commands. Forward. Kill. Burn. Destroy. Your greatsword cuts through another soldier. Blood splashes on your mouth. Lick. Tasty. Another soldier. Kill. Kill. Kill. Slaughter. Conquer. Push forward. Denerim must fall. Danger. Dangerous foe. All troops must protect Archdemon. Forward. Forward. Forwa-

Silence.

No! No! No! Where is the song?! Silence is painful! An arrow flies towards your face and you feel its sting as it lodges into your skull. But the sting is not as painful as the silence. All is black. All is excruciating silence. Is this death?

...

...

...

You awake to an unfamiliar face. "I am the Architect." It speaks to you for the first and last time before it slits its own throat and dies. A sharp pain fills your head as consciousness and intelligence flood your brain. You remember everything clearly. You process everything at an astounding pace. You understand what you were and what you are. You were once a mindless piece on a massive board. But that is no longer who you are. You no longer need the Archdemon's song to comfort you. You are able to conceive ideas and understand concepts that would have been far beyond the mental capabilities of your past self. And then you turn to your side and notice the corpse.

He called himself the Architect. Architect of what? He is a strange creature. His appearance is that of a twisted and deformed human. For some reason, even though you don't know who he is, you know WHAT he is. He is a Magister. One of several ancient mages whose original folly supposedly brought forth the Darkspawn from the Black City. Such knowledge should never have existed in your memory to begin with. Curious, you examine him and notice that he is staring in a particular direction with a strange expression. You follow his gaze and see a book on a table. Despite never having knowledge of any kind of script, you are able to read and understand it.

"I found the Old God Urthumiel and attempted the procedure. This resulted in a failure. Consequently, Urthumiel was corrupted into an Archdemon and the Fifth Blight began. Granting sentience to Darkspawn is possible. However, maintaining their sanity without the Archdemon's song is a matter of probability. Further study of Urthumiel is required to create a perfect substitute for the song. The Archdemon's death would be a catastrophic waste of potential. I awaited its death and attempted to redirect its soul and power to a suitable vessel of my choosing. The procedure was a partial failure. The Archdemon's power was successfully redirected into a nearby Hurlock Vanguard. However, Urthumiel's soul was already drawn to another anchor nearby. I have captured the mage responsible for this and incapacitated her for further study. However, this is not a study I shall live to conduct. The Vanguard is highly unstable. His body is unable to contain the power of the Archdemon. His condition deteriorates with each passing hour. As a last resort, I shall attempt to enhance his body and mind using my own body and mind as a basis. If you are reading this, Vanguard, it means I have succeeded at the cost of my life. You have my intelligence and what portions of my memories and knowledge I deemed appropriate for you to receive. I am the Architect and you are my final triumph. Kindness and cruelty are but two sides of enlightenment. You are no longer a Vanguard. You are The Enlightened. Whether by kindness or by cruelty, it is my will that you find a way for our kind to thrive in this world. Bring the world together or destroy it. The choice is yours. You may, of course, elect to abandon my dream entirely and pursue your own goals. But know that the world tirelessly conspires to drive the Darkspawn to extinction. It is in your best interests to pursue the realisation of my will."

As you read those words, even more foreign memories awaken within you. Knowledge of the Grey Wardens and the battle at Denerim. Through the cold eyes of the Architect, you see the defeat of the Darkspawn army. Your blood does not boil. You feel neither pain not rage at the sight of your brethren being slaughtered as they retreat. No. To you, this does not call for emotion. It calls for reason. You must observe these events and understand why your kind lost so that you do not repeat their mistakes. To that end, you must find this mage the Architect wrote about and learn what you can from her.