He couldn't begin to answer that question, not if he had hours to spare. Kirkwall's woes are many and have a long, long history going back well before Meredith's reign. The fight is truly horrific, the demon lashing the men and women in armor with electricity made all the worse by the metal encasing them. Several of his comrades fall and do not rise again.

Smite after smite detonates across the tough purplish-black hide. Cullen has recovered enough of his strength to add to the barrage. Striking it physically feels akin to striking stone. His shoulder is screaming agony. Every shield bash feels about as effective as charging against a wall.

And yet, bit by bit, they are seeping out its strength and beating it down. Covered in blood and ichor both, the templars advance and drive the creature back toward the steps leading down to the ferry landing. Its roars and taunts reverberate off the stone walls. The din of this battle is deafening.