"No, of course not. Only two of us are in the entire village and that's too few to help if this is a Blight," Hawke grumbles, her usual sarcastic wit gone in favor of flat-out sarcastic bitterness. This could very well be a Blight and if it is, they've got no Grey Wardens to help. They're screwed in so many ways. No one here can kill an Archdemon. No one's got enough of the Taint and even if they tried to replicate something of that unknown Joining ritual, there's no guarantee that anyone would survive it long enough to kill the Archdemon in the first place.

Hawke growls.

"They were once men, whose bodies were tainted. The sun only disappears like this in Thedas when hordes of them come crawling up from the Deep Roads, from the very depths of the earth. Led by the Blighted form of an old god, an Archdemon, they taint everything they touch. We call it a Blight for a reason. And if that does happen here..." She shrugs, her sarcastic tone returning. "Well, we'll just have to hope that the Observers send us a Grey Warden soon or everything's probably going to die."

She's such a ray of sunshine at the moment, but she's really, really sick of fleeing Blights and darkspawn. Maker, if Corypheus turns up, she's going to throw something.