"Can't recall havin' heard much about Wardens," he says thoughtfully, shifting gently and standing up finally, picking a bird off his shoulder and putting it down on the ground along with the last of his crumbled hearth cakes. He still has Leliana's bird settled on his arm, and it eyes Teren warily. "Prob'ly more along the lines'a what you'd be callin' a refugee. Got taken to the Inquisition though, since I figured I could be helpin' around there."