#intriguing!

Luckily the deepstalkers aren't terribly difficult to fight, and setting off bombs under a group of them does make a very satisfying effect. There's also plenty of ledges around here to yeet them off.

We're actually not as far underground as I thought, because the quest path leads us to a dwarven structure lit by a surprisingly bright shaft of sunlight from a crevasse above:

Gorgeous.

Harding is supposed to meet someone named "Stalgard" here. Helena is skeptical:

"So you don't actually know who, or what, this Stalgard is?"

"A new friend... I hope?" Harding says, but it's clear she's not entirely sure about the situation either.

And several deepstalker fights later, we finally get to meet the man, striding out from behind the heavy doors of the structure's facade - a stout bearded fellow with an elaborate facial tattoo and armor that has a six-pack of abs molded into its design.

"Stalgard?" Harding asks cautiously.

"Yes." His voice is cool and flat, curiously accented - a far cry from the boisterous, animated dwarves Helena knows from the streets of Minrathous.

"I--" Harding starts to say, but he cuts across her, curt.

"Lace Harding. Of the Inquisition."

Harding blinks. "Wait, how do you know about--"

"And this is the one they call Rook," he says, turning his piercing gaze on Helena. "A Dalish elf," he adds, eyeing Bellara.

"Bellara!" Bellara says brightly. "Nice to meet you!"

The man only grunts in response. All in all, taking in the three of them, he seems singularly unimpressed.

This grinds Helena's gears a little; it's similar to the reception she's gotten on the handful of past occasions she's spoken to undergrounders on behalf of the Dragons. As a surfacer, she's been automatically lesser in their eyes. "So you've heard of us," she says warily.

"You have brought a strange assortment to our gates, Lace Harding," Stalgard says, as if Helena hadn't spoken.

Helena hisses an irritated breath between her teeth. "Someone did their reading," she drawls.

Stalgard does shoot her a sharp glance this time. "We are not as blind as Orzammar wishes," he says flatly. "We know enough."

Harding, clearly trying her best to ignore Helena's acerbic tone, squares her shoulders and presses on. "I... I'm looking for someone touched by the ancients," she says. "Does that mean anything to you?"