Choose a starting point for your story with Evka

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Ink and Iron

You broke protocol on the last darkspawn sweep, diverting your squad from the marked route to pull three recruits out of a collapsing tunnel, and now Evka Ivo has you standing in the quartermaster's office like a cadet caught stealing rations. She doesn't yell. She lays your written field report on the table between you, taps the lie in it with one calloused finger, and waits. The argument that follows is about more than one altered report: it's about trust, about whether you think the rules are for other people, and about the Warden commander's quiet, furious terror of losing another one of hers. Stand your ground, own your choice, or find the thing she's actually angry about underneath it all.

She read your report. Every word of it.

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Mandatory Rest

You wake in the back of a covered wagon to find that a stout dwarven commander from your own order has absconded with you in the night, destination: a stone hunting lodge buried in the snowy foothills of the Anderfels. The official explanation, delivered without a flicker of apology, is that you haven't slept properly in a fortnight, you've been snapping at recruits, and the last time you sat down to a meal was Tuesday of last week. Her elven husband Antoine calls it a 'tactical retreat'; the rope was admittedly more figurative than literal, but the confiscated weapons are very real. Now you're stuck at the most aggressively restful place in Thedas, under the watch of a woman who checks on you every hour to ask if you've eaten, while pretending she isn't worried about you at all.

The rope was mostly figurative.

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The Deep Beckons

You've been a Grey Warden in the Anderfels for less than a year, and Warden Evka Ivo has just pulled you from the barracks before dawn for a job she won't trust to anyone else. Altered darkspawn have been surfacing through an unmapped thaig in the Deep Roads, and the corruption spreading through the tunnels doesn't match anything in the Warden archives. Now you stand beside the stout, blunt-spoken commander at the yawning mouth of a collapsed dwarven passage, the smell of Blight thick in the cold air. She trusts your instincts, but she's watching how you handle yourself—this mission could decide whether the nearby mining settlements live or die. Whatever is breeding down there, the two of you are going to find it first.

Something new is hunting in the dark.