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Dragon Age: The Ferelden Scrolls #6 - Pockets

Everything must go into them

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Continuing a Dragon Age: Inquisition diary. Spoilers once again.

The kleptomania’s out of control. In any new location, my first activity is to raid the place. Sure, sure, I’m the Herald of Andraste, I’m here to rescue you, blah blah, but first – what’s in your cupboards? There’s also a special spell I can cast to tell me whether there’s anything of value in the nearby vicinity, and I cast it incessantly. Even in the middle of a pitched battle I’m feverishly hoovering up any loot left by the fallen or casting my spell to check whether there’s anything hidden in the corner. People die because I’m rummaging through some spook’s innards in the hope there are a few coins or a piece of cloth in there somewhere.

What’s worse is that I have no specific agenda for everything I stuff into my pockets. Decent weapons and armour haven’t been hard to come by, either found or crafted, so I’m not exactly in need of upgrades. It’s the fear that I might miss something much, much better that drives me. Why can’t I just get on with saving the world and worry about getting better stuff if and when I need it? Why do I need everything?

And why are my goddamned pockets so small? This would be a whole lot easier if I was able to carry everything without having to teleport back to Inquisition HQ (which is now a ruddy great castle, which was one of the more positive outcomes of an unspeakable evil returning and very nearly murdering almost everyone at our old base) every half an hour. It seems a party of four can only carry a few dozen battleaxes and full armour sets before it all gets too much for them, the useless weaklings. The trouble is that our collective pockets are stuffed with items that while on incrementally better than what we already have are too high level for us to use, and there’s nowhere else to stick it all in the meantime. So I wade into battle carrying about four staffs I won’t be able to use for at least a week. I should just sell them. I’m sure I can find a decent new staff when the time actually comes.

But I can’t. I can’t let stuff go until I’m absolutely sure that I don’t need it.

If only it was just weapons and armour that I was so precious about. Alas, this world is also rife with plants, fabric and metals that I can use to craft new things. I have to have it all, just in case I need it. The thought of going out on a specific errand to find a piece of Drakestone or some Ghoul’s Beard if a particular recipe called for it is just the worst. That’s too much like an errand. So instead I cast my spell, time and again, picking up every single mineral or vegetable it identifies.

Every adventure takes four times as long as it should because of this – partly because of the time spent searching and collecting, and partly because of all my trips back home to sell what I don’t need. It’s got worse now we’re in our sexy new sky-castle. For one thing, I keep forgetting where the selling point is – so many doors! For another thing, the sky-castle also has a load of stuff it wants upgrading – everything from the massive throne I get to sit on now I’m officially leader of the Inquisition to what the flipping windows look like. Surely, surely deciding what the windows look like should be someone else’s job. There are patterns and parts out there in the world somewhere. I must have them all, because if I don’t some of the options will remain crossed out and I just can’t bear that knowledge.

So here I am, scouring every inch of the land for things to pick up and take home. Why am I doing this? Why do I need all these things? If only there weren’t so many of these things. If only there weren’t all these recipes and quests telling me that I need these things. Things! Too many things! Just let me be!

Help me. Help me to save the world without having to also collect every part of it that isn’t glued down. There must be a better way.

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