OPEN.

[degenere]

FORM: sending crystal
SENDER: Val de Foncé
RECIPIENT: everyone, you cannot escape
WHAT: joke time
WHEN: a slightly respectful length of time after the death announcemet. emphasis on slightly.
NOTES: full offense, but you guys smell

Inquisition.

[Very serious, very Orlesian.]

There were three Fereldans walking the streets of Kirkwall and they came upon a large brown pile. As the streets of Kirkwall are so very narrow, the brown pile was quite blocking their way, so that they had but two choices to them: they could either tramp through the pile, or they could turn back.

The first Fereldan approached the pile, leaned down, and looked very hard at it. "By the Lady!" he said. "This looks like shit."

The second Ferelden approached the pile beside him, leaned down, and took a great big sniff. "Maker!" he cried. "This smells of shit!"

The third Ferelden approached the pile beside his companions, leaned down, put his finger into the pile, and the put his finger in his mouth. "By Andraste's sword!" he exclaimed. "This tastes of shit!"

The three Fereldens turned to go back the way that they had come, saying to one another, "It's a good thing we didn't walk in that!"

[GET IT.]

There! Now our mood is lightened. I welcome anyone that would try to outmatch me in jokes.

Comments

[degenere]

Where are the farmers standing?

[keenly]

Look, it's all right to joke about Fereldans. But you need to know where things stand, even right now. The occupation is still in living memory and it's our parents and grandparents who ended it. And we're fond of our parents and grandparents, so...yeah. Some jokes will fall flat with Fereldans. And if it's really a good-natured contest of jokes, you'll want to avoid that. Stick with the dirt and the smell of dogs and shite, I don't care. But it matters who you are and who you talk to.

[limier]

And which nation is most dour? The Anderfels are a natural candidate — but as a scholar, perhaps you've some bolder perspective.

[byblow]

[ Alistair laughs. If Ferelden doesn't want him to laugh, maybe Ferelden shouldn't have kicked him out.

—no, that's not fair. He would have laughed before all of that, too. ]

Now you're dragging Antiva into this? They've done nothing wrong.

[doneisdone]

An Orlesian is stabbed in the throat.

[el_tybs]

We've never had a conversation where my... hidden talent would show. [It's always been mages and magic, and that one time trying to find ghosts on a boat.]

I was only making sure there was no connection outside of proximity.

Fight, Valentine. He wants to fight you. Right? [Just confirming that.] Yeah, those kind of words.

[degenere]

Oh, we are personal. These are personal farmers. I understand.

[Not overly sympathetic or impressed, but understand, as in, comprehend: yes.]

I do not have any farmers. Or parents. Or grandparents. Is it really so much better to be smelling of dog shit than a joke of stupidity?

[degenere]

Certainly I do. I would posit that there are among us, small cells and sects of a country that we know nothing of. This country has existed all along, but her borders have been hidden in plain sight, so that we were never aware of her countryfolk, who live in our nations, and wreck havoc on our joy.

In conclusion, I would posit that the most dour of the Maker's creations are the Dourfolk. You see them every day, walking among us

[degenere]

And he lives! Praise Andraste. The country of Orlais is blessed indeed. Her people are the Maker's favored.

A happy story. But not a joke!

[doneisdone]

[GRR]

[limier]

Do yourself greater honour. I am certain your knifework no laughing matter.

[limier]

And how have you uncovered this cabal?

[doneisdone]

Don't be ridiculous. The knife-wielder is also Orlesian.

[keenly]

When the teller is Orlesian, yes. Also, we're proud of our dogs.

[deserteur]

I have one.

[ Another Orlesian accent! But the country hick version of Orlesian. ]

A Sister in Orlais is collecting donations to repair the village Chantry. Nearly everyone gives something, except the Baron. She goes to him, and she says, “You have been blessed with such good fortune, perhaps you might return some of it to the Maker.”

The Baron says, “Blessed? You think so? Has anyone told you that my wife is ill and requires an expensive blend of herbs just to get out of bed?”

The Sister says, “I had heard she was feeling poorly,” but she’s cut off before she can offer any sympathy.

“What’s more, one of my daughters is engaged to a man who’s being held for ransom in the marshes. My cook died and left behind four bastard orphans too young to work. And five of my freeholders lost their crops to flood this season. If no one assists them they will surely starve.”

The Sister is embarrassed now, to be asking a man with so many hardships for help fixing windows. She says, “I am so sorry to have bothered you.”

And, “So should you be,” the Baron says. He says, “If I give nothing to any of them, why should I give something to you?”

[keenly]

[This sound could be reasonably called a cackle.]

[deserteur]

[ Damn the constraints of the medium, which prevent him from answering with a wink. ]

[degenere]

Fereldens are proud of their dog's shit. Well. This fact, it is not shocking. The shocking part is that it was admitted. When I publish it, we will all have a source for our citation. What a difference you have made today.

You know, I have never even met a farmer.

[degenere]

They seemed the likeliest for bandits.

Would it be more convincing if the horse was a magnificent little ship and the streets were a bay and the bandits were pirates?

[degenere]

Hidden talents. Now I am intrigued.

As for fighting, I am afraid I do not squabble in the street. If we were to arrange a fight, I would consider. But I am a scholar. I lift my hand to combat only when it is absolutely necessary to obtain some rare artifact or manuscript, or to protect myself from harm.

And also, the street is so very narrow. Where would we find room to fight?

[degenere]

Observation. Assault, from their ways. I have been subjected to their suffocating presence more times than I can say. If you have not, then you are very lucky indeed.

[degenere]

[Val laughs, loud and appreciative.]

Very good! Ah, you must write that down for me, please--but when you do, change the baron to a baroness. My mother is a baroness. It reminds me so of her, I must send it to her.

[aventuriere]

As a baroness I am deeply offended, Valentine.

[ she's not ]

[keenly]

[Colin is briefly baffled that that last is supposed to be a point in this man's favor, then starts apologizing because any time something goes wrong it's what he wants to do.]

Sorry. I'm just saying keep it in good fun, all right? Sorry. Um.

A Fereldan man sees a man on his knees using his hand to drink water from one of Ferelden's rivers.

He walks up to him and says in common, “Hey – you can’t drink that water, it’s dirty and will make you sick”.

The other man shouts back in Orlesian: “Qu'est-ce que tu dis?”

The Fereldan man responds in Orlesian: “Utulisez les deux main, c'est beaucoup meilleur!”

[el_tybs]

[He was jokingly calling puns a hidden talent - singular mind you - but it's far too amusing to hear Val is intrigued to say anything against that.

Meanwhile, there is a rather loud noise happening in the back of Sam's crystal followed by the mage himself giving a loud sigh.]

Did you really? [Referring to goading on the man.] I'm trying to get work here done.