The Emprise du Lion was, without question, the most terrible place Varric had ever been. True, the Deep Roads had been pretty awful, but the Deep Roads didn't have snow and starving packs of wolves. He'd known this place was going to be bad, he'd had a sinking feeling in his gut since he'd seen the scouting reports, but he hadn't been prepared to see just how bad everything really was.
There was Red Lyrium everywhere. Everywhere. It was growing out of the snow in spikes, like horrible, poisonous, crystal wildflowers. It sprouted in the ruins of every burned out, collapsed house, and at night he could even see the glow of it, faint and awful, in the distance. It had a sort of miasma around it, gave off a cloud of crazy, and just the thought of it made his skin crawl.
This place was the worst, hands down, and Varric did what any other sensible dwarf would do when confronted with his worst nightmare consuming the countryside of Orlais: he posted up in the tavern, tipped heavily, and tried his damnedest not to think about it. Eventually he would have to, the red stuff wasn't going to go away on its own, but he intended to be at least one sheet to the wind before he wandered anywhere near any of it.
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The Emprise du Lion was, without question, the most terrible place Varric had ever been. True, the Deep Roads had been pretty awful, but the Deep Roads didn't have snow and starving packs of wolves. He'd known this place was going to be bad, he'd had a sinking feeling in his gut since he'd seen the scouting reports, but he hadn't been prepared to see just how bad everything really was.
There was Red Lyrium everywhere. Everywhere. It was growing out of the snow in spikes, like horrible, poisonous, crystal wildflowers. It sprouted in the ruins of every burned out, collapsed house, and at night he could even see the glow of it, faint and awful, in the distance. It had a sort of miasma around it, gave off a cloud of crazy, and just the thought of it made his skin crawl.
This place was the worst, hands down, and Varric did what any other sensible dwarf would do when confronted with his worst nightmare consuming the countryside of Orlais: he posted up in the tavern, tipped heavily, and tried his damnedest not to think about it. Eventually he would have to, the red stuff wasn't going to go away on its own, but he intended to be at least one sheet to the wind before he wandered anywhere near any of it.