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]

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.

[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!”

[degenere]

[Val, entirely used to people apologizing to him, dismisses it all with a magnanimous wave that Colin can't see. That's okay: the wave is in his voice, too.]

Of course. Not to worry.

[--and then he, quelle surprise! shuts up because he wants to hear the joke. And he is rewarded, enough to laugh.]

Ah! But jokes of poison are fair game? Do you that I have learned the largest of the differences between meals in Orlais and meals in Ferelden?

It is not even the lack of flavor. That is a given. No, it is that: in Orlais, we ask the Maker's blessing and favor before we eat. It is good, yes? Where in Ferelden, you must ask the Maker's blessing and favor after you eat.

[keenly]

[That gets laughter.]

My mother opened a food stall in Denerim because she came to the country and couldn't find any good food. [A beat.] She did it to feed her children, actually, but she always talked about how there's no good food in Ferelden and that was why she made money. She wasn't wrong.

But. I'm not sure I ought to be teasing the Orlesians. It's not like you can defend yourselves.

[degenere]

[First things first:]

Is that so. And why is it that we cannot defend ourselves?

[keenly]

Just a little history joke. We did beat you, and all.

[degenere]

Well! In that conflict, of course, I was not consulted, or else it would have gone far differently.

[er but, a hasty correction--]

Much as I love her, I do not wish to be consulted by any of Orlais in her current defense or any ongoing conflict and would prefer to be left to research in peace and in the embrace of the Inquisition.

But historically. If I had been consulted.

[keenly]

I'm sure you have all the answers. [The tone is warm and very nearly reassuring.] But it's your turn to tell a joke.

[degenere]

Of course, yes. The contest continues, so long as we are clear. Now, your patience and attention please:

Two Fereldans, Simon and Gareth, decide to see more of Thedas outside of their hovel and they go together to Val Royeaux on a pleasure trip. There, they meet an Orlesian called Jean Paul and become good friends. Against all odds and expectations, Jean Paul finds these two Fereldans somewhat amusing. He treats Simon and Gareth at taverns and restaurants, shops... And this goes on for a while until one fine day Jean Paul does not turn up. The Fereldans assume that some important work would have held him up and do not make a serious note of his absence.

But, perhaps something was serious, as Jean Paul does not turn up for the next five days. At this the Fereldans become alarmed and go to the city's guards to lodge a report. The head guardsman asks Simon and Gareth to give details of the person who is missing.

"Well," says Simon, "his name is Jean Paul."

The head guardsman scoffs. "Yes," he says, "this is a very common name in Orlais. Please, something more."

"Well," says Gareth, "he is very tall."

"But of course!" says the head guardsman. "Most of the people of Orlais are tall."

"Well," says Simon, "he has blue eyes."

"Better," the head guardsman congratulates, "but, no. Something more substantial."

Simon and Gareth think very hard. Then Gareth snaps his fingers. "Aha!" he says. "I have it. This is slightly uncommon and I am sure now you shall be able to track him. You see, he has two holes in his arse."

At this, the head guardsman was very shocked indeed. "Well, well," he said, "yes, that is curious. Are you certain?"

"But of course!" said Gareth.

The head guardsman began to make a note, but then thought to ask again: "Are you completely certain that this very personal identifier you have provided is correct?"

Gareth nodded. "Most certainly!" he said.

Such certainty is either possessed of the very learned or the very foolish, and so the head guardsman pressed: "How is it that you are so certain?"

"It is simple!" cried Gareth. "Whenever we would go with him to the tavern, everyone present would greet him as "Here comes Jean Paul with two arse-holes!"

[keenly]

[There's some weak, forced laughter.]

Two Fereldans going to Val Royeaux, [he sighs as if that was the joke all along. He clears his throat.]

A servant approaches his master at the tavern. "Hello, Meserre de Caron? I'm Ernest, the caretaker at your country house."

"Ah yes, Ernest. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?"

"Um, I am just here to advise you, meserre, that your parrot died."

"My parrot? Dead? The one that won the competition?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Sacrebleu! That's a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he die from?"

"From eating rotten meat."

"Rotten meat? Who fed him rotten meat?"

"Nobody, meserre. He ate the meat of the dead horse."

"Dead horse? What dead horse?"

"The thoroughbred, Chanceux."

"Chanceux! My horse that won the race a few years back?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did he die?"

"He died from all that work pulling the water cart."

"Are you insane? What water cart?"

"The one we used to put out the fire."

"Good Lord! What fire are you talking about, man?"

"The one at your house! A candle fell, and the curtains caught on fire."

"What! But nobody else lives at that house! What was the candle for?"

"For the funeral."

"FUNERAL? WHAT FUNERAL?!"

"Your mother's. She showed up one night out of nowhere, and I thought she was a thief, so I hit her with your new sword-cane."

[A lengthy silence.]

"Ernest, if you broke that cane, you're fired!"

[degenere]

By the Maker. In your joke, a horse dies?