Visit Dagna in her undercroft.

If your previous trips to the Winter Palace were any indication, it wouldn't hurt to stock up on weapons and armor before you leave. With that in mind, it's time to pay your resident arcanist Dagna a little visit.

As you stagger through the dank, dimly lit tunnels of Skyhold's undercroft, you're immediately reminded why you don't travel to this part of the castle very often. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you swore you could hear moaning coming from down here. And not the fun kind of moaning either, the "howls of the damned" kind.

Following the strong smell of burning, you finally reach Dagna's workshop. Built into the face of the mountain, this massive open-air forge was the perfect place for a mad arcanist to carry out her unholy experiments in peace. You vaguely recall there being a blacksmith fellow who also shared this space with her but you haven't seen or heard from him in ages.

You enter inside to find Dagna sitting at her workbench, fiddling with what appears to be a stone carving. A carving that bears an uncanny resemblance to a part of the male anatomy, complete with long shaft and flared head.

"Dagna?" you speak, announcing your presence. The dwarf is a bit jumpy, clearly not expecting any kind of visitors at this time of night.

"Inquisitor!" she greets you, lifting her safety mask to reveal her chipper smile. "What brings you down to the undercroft at this hour?"

"Besides your charming company, you mean? I was hoping to craft some new weapons."

"Easy peasy," she boasts. "We just got a huge shipment of dragon scale the other day and I've already started brainstorming a few ideas for-"

"Dagna," you cut her off midsentence, pointing to the stone cock on the table. "What exactly do you have there?"

"Oh, this?" she grins, hefting the heavy piece in her petite hands. "Just a little something I've been tinkering with in my spare time," she explains. "One of your soldiers brought it back from that temple you had looted."

"Could you be more specific?" you ask sincerely. "We've desecrated a lot of temples lately."

"Ha! Good one, Your Worship." she snorts, giving you a playful shove. "Anyhoo, I did a little research..."

The bubbly dwarf turns, sliding a musty book from her cluttered workbench. "It would appear this thing is elven in nature," she says, flipping through the old, yellowed pages. "Some sort of conduit for latent fade energy."

"It looks like a giant rod to me..." you offer dryly, eyeing the strongly phallic sculpture again.

"Precisely," Dagna nods. "A giant dowsing rod, the ideal shape for stimulation of fade energy."

Standing on her tiptoes, she presses the book into your face. You stare at page after page of ancient elven diagrams, most of which look more like the lewd drawings you were known to doodle in the margins of your history tomes back in the Circle.

"See?" she asks, clapping the book shut.

"So this thing detects magical energy? That's hardly special. Even those Templars can do that."

"But this baby can detect ancient magic, the type elven artifacts give off. Like Corypheus' scary orb thingie..."

"Or my throne thingie..." you mutter quietly to yourself. "Alright Dagna, consider my interest piqued. How exactly does this thing work?"

"Well," she says with an awkward giggle. "It's a little heavy for me to carry. So I made this...."

Reaching underneath her workbench, the dwarf pulls out a leather harness. Even at a glance, you can tell the level of craftsmanship is exceedingly high from its tanned Halla straps to the polished silverite buckles. Gingerly, she dons the harness over her clothes, looping the straps around her tiny waist and through her stocky legs before finally, sliding the artifact through the opening in the front and fastening everything tight.

"Tada!" she exclaims, proudly posing with a pillar of stone jutting from her crotch. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"That's one word for it," you smirk, watching the artifact bob as the ever-excitable Dagna hops up and down in front of you. If the sight of the diminutive dwarf with a huge rock cock wasn't so ridiculous, you might consider it kinda cool.

"Now comes the tricky part," she says, rubbing her hands together. She reaches down to cradle two circular orbs danging from the base. "Priming these lyrium runes..." she says, working over the jewels with her fingers.

You watch the dwarf's small hands grope and fondle the artifact's batteries. "These runes respond to friction," she explains. 'They're a little finicky so you've really got to polish 'em..."

You feel your cock twitch a little in response as the girl playfully tickles the hanging runes.

“I think it's working,” Dagna gasps, her voice rising in pitch and taking on a breathless quality.

“How can you tell?” you ask skeptically, seeing no sign of physical changes in the device.

"The artifact forms a tactile bond with its wearer," she murmurs. "I'm feeling...sensations."

"Sensations?" you repeat with a raise of the eyebrow.

“Warm...tingly...sensations..."

Suddenly, the lyrium balls begin to emit a dim green light. Despite herself, you see Dagna’s eyes close--in what you must assume is concentration—as she takes hold of the rigid shaft with both hands and begins to stroke.

"I can feel it building..." she pants. You can see she’s working up quite the sweat—quite difficult to do in a well-ventilated area such as this. The dwarf quickly forgoes the last of her decorum as she leans over, spitting directly onto the stone before increasing the speed of her motions.

The light, barely a flicker at first, only grows brighter and brighter as she works. You watch it travel up the shaft, filling in every tiny vein on the sculpture's surface with radiant energy.

"Oh, Stone!" Dagna cries, biting her bottom lip. "Here it comes..."

Dagna’s eyes open wide as the light finally reaches the bulbous tip, crying out in surprise as the built-up magical energies exploded outwards, like a liquid wave of pure fade. At first, her hands look like they’re trying to hold back the light, prolonging the experience, but soon, they move like they’re pulling it toward the tip, trying to wring out every magical spark.

“There!” she says, eyes still wide as she turns her head to the west like she was seeing through the walls of Skyhold. Without waiting for you, she scurries off, very much looking like she was letting her ‘dowsing rod’ lead the way. As she runs by, you catch a whiff of a certain scent you haven't smelled since the last time Bianca came to visit Varric.

You stand there for a moment, trying to unpack what you just witnessed. With a shake of the head, you lazily follow the dwarf upstairs.