Montsimmard, Orlais

Short and fierce there is no doubt of Ovra's dwarven blood. Moving with surprising speed and refined dexterity, all supported by a muscular if not compact frame given her stature. Her skin is cast in tan hues, strange given the pallor of most of her kind, resultant from the life of traveler. It is not a pristine canvas though marked with scar tissue accumulated over the years. It all results in a sort of admirable stoic beauty akin to that of the mythic siren, beautiful and alluring to behold but probably best to keep your distance. A task that is harder said than done, given the constant welcoming grin the woman carries upon her face, though it is unsure if she is welcoming in you, or the ever constant specter of death that she enjoys teasing.

Her red hair is kept relatively short, its choppy texture contrasting with the two braids she wears which are adorned with heavy metal rings that are emblazoned with dwarven script. They fall to either side of her eyes, two small orbs of green, that seem to be hiding something behind their ever present glimmer. Her clothing choices are muted in their coloring nothing to really draw the eye.

The daughter of a well-regarded Blacksmith in Montsimmard. Her mother dying of consumption when she was young. She had a solid roof over head, her dad was a good man, and she didn't have to worry about where her next meal was going to come from.

What was absent in trouble was instead replaced with tales. Her father, Ulin fancied himself something of a storyteller and young Ovra was of course, his most attentive audience member. Her favorite stories was that of her ancestor Tovka. Tovka, was a skilled smith, but her true passion came in smiting foes; both these skillsets would find use in the Fourth Blight in her role as one of the Stone's Bastards recruited by the Grey Warden Garahel. As Ulin told it, it was an epic tale of love and betrayal, glory and honor in such a way that would of made even the old Paragons proud. In the Tovka would die fighting off hordes of Darkspawn, to let Garahel escape and eventually slay the Archdemon. Her axe was all that was recovered, which still hung above the Paerat Smithy as a reminder of what they always starve to emmulate.

Heart filled with such tales Ovra always sought out adventure. Rather spending her time exploring the streets and rooftops of Montsimmard than learning the ways of the smithy. Ovra's adventures would lead her into making acquaintances with some local troublemakers. Metaphorically and literally looked down on her for being a Dwarf, this pushed Ovra to keep on taking more and more dangerous dares to prove herself. Smear cow dung on the Guard Captain's bed, pick pocket the crotchety old merchant, things of that nature. After a while though they ran out of dares to give the girl, so she started to make up her own challenges to keep herself entertained.

It would be one these "challenges' that would change her life. She had deiced to pick the pocket of a well off noble man that had been frequenting the market the past week. The older gentlemen who despite his fine wears, always traveled alone caught the eyes of Ovra as the perfect mark. This man was in fact Duke Yvain de Leclerc, a seasoned bardmaster. It is to go without saying that Leclerc was able to catch Ovra in the act. But still the young girls aptitude was admirable, and Dwarven entertainers were an exotic sight in Orlais, and if the nobles loved anything it was rare sights to behold. Leclerc with schemes already forming in his head would offer to train the girl in the ways of the Bard.

And so in a week's time when Yvain was to head back to Val Royeaux, Ovra accompanied him. To his credit Ulin was as accepting as a parent could in the situation. As he knew in his heart that his young daughter would never be satisfied stuck in the confines of Montsimmard, for adventure was rooted in their blood after all. And so Ulin gifted his daughter with Tovka's axe so that her family would always be at her side.

The next three years would be breaking down the girl she used to be and replacing it with the bard that she was to become. She was pushed physically to her limit, her sparring lessons beginning from day one with a sharpened blade, every cut and gash its own little lesson. She was to learn everything: poisons, history, architecture, musicianship, and even dining etiquette. For bard were not just spies and assassins, they were true masters of the Game itself. Yet maybe most importantly she was taught the most essential skill in a bard's repertoire, control. To repress and dictate her own feelings and thoughts, to not give away anything, to put up as mask as needed to conceal the truth. And in the winter of her third year, she was deemed ready.

The life evidently wasn't meant to last. At the age of twenty two, Yvain was poisoned by one of his rivals, perishing shortly after. At this moment in time, Ovra could of done the sensible thing and picked up where Yvain had left off. She did after all have access to all his contacts, and allies. But for reasons unknown, Ovra slipped away into the night shortly after the funeral. Maybe it was simple wanderlust, but whatever it was Ovra was on the road again. She would go wherever the winds would take her, playing at roadside taverns to earn a meal and bed for the night, and occasionally supplementing her income with her... other skills

Her travels would eventually take her to Hasmal. Her she would sign on to a job protecting a Merchant headed towards Starkhaven, since she was going that way anyway. The forming of the Breakers wasn't her idea, but she didn't oppose it either. She is something of a coordinator for the group these days, using her old contacts and skills to find them work.

Ovra's a difficult one to read, bard training does that of course. She projects this charismatic aura of sheer confidence about her, like nothing could ever go wrong as long as the dwarf's still standing. The jokes and witty remarks roll off her tongue with ease. And she's something of a shameless tease using her femininity and all its assets in matters of persuasion. In a way it all seems effortless. And truthfully it is.

It's also all just another one of her lies, a mask like any other. There are signs of it of course the fact that in the ten years that some of her companions have known her, they know little about her past beside that she was born in Orlais. And how she can threaten a child at knife point and seemingly not feel bad about it. And yet even the aloof bardic demeanor is still a sort of mask. As below the surface are bubbling insecurities and regrets, kept ever in check through her training, but always present. The same insecurities that made her flee Orlais, and the same ones that wonder if she was ever a good person to begin with.

10

Rogue | Bard

Ovra is very particular about making sure people are dead. So she prefers to keep up close and personal, with her hand axe and dagger.

- Move in Shadow: Ovra is an expert upon the honored past time of how not to be seen.
- Bardic Lore: Jack of all trades, master of none. As a Bard you learn a little bit of everything. Small reference pools are for amateurs
- Skulduggery: Poisons, Lockpicking, pickpocketing, eavesdropping. The Game frowns upon those who don't fight dirty.
- Balladeer: Ovra knows how to hold a tune obviously.
- She Knows a Guy: A deep web of contacts scattered throughout Thedas provide Ovra with some well needed insight.

Ulin Paerat: Father, Smith, generally a good man. According to her contacts in Orlais her father is still doing fine. Ovra hasn't talk to him since she left though all those years ago. Worried that he would be disappointed in what she has become.

Tovka Paerat: Ovra's long dead ancestor. Despite her being born roughly over four hundred or so years ago, her shadow still hangs over Ovra as she ever still tries to live up to the example she set so long ago.

Laelius Juventius: Magister of the Imperium, Merchant, Slaver, and a terrible player of Wicked Grace. A prominent member of the particular sphere of the underworld within the northern Free Marches and southern Tevinter. The two met when Ovra was still in Orlais and Laelius was visiting the country on business. They been assoicates ever since.

Duchess Amelya de Leclerc: Yvain's wife and now widower. The bard and duchess are on friendly enough terms still to this day. Though their relationship never really progress beyond one of business as Amelya saw Ovra as just another member of the help. After Yvain's death their relationship warmed if only slightly and they still exchange regular correspondences with one another.

- 1x Handaxe Silverite: The ancestral weapon of her family given to her by her Father. A treasured companion through rough times.
- 1x Dagger Steel

N/A

4x Bundles of Deathroot
2x Vial of Venom
?x Hardtack Does she conjure up more with some sort of magic? Nobody knows but she certainly has a lot of it.
1x Waterskin

Wandering Hills, Anderfels

Erinya is of slighty more than average height, with a very slender physique. Her long black hair vastly contrast with her -nowadays- pale skin. She looks completely human despite her partly Elven origin although the angular features of her face can remind someone of an Elf. Her striking blue eyes, almost gray, are her best feature as many have said. All in all, Erinya used to be a beauty you don't meet everyday, especially in the lands she was born in.

However, life hasn't treated her well and that shows. Her face looks pale and gaunt, full of freckles and proof of the hard times she's been facing in both her days and nights. Her vibrant black hair now look sickly and weak and her eyes have lost their spark. Her once slender body now looks fragile, ready to fall to the winter.

But she's strong, she's a survivor, always has been.

Erinya was conceived somewhere in the southern-most parts of the Brecilian Forest, according to Mother's parting letter. Her father,
some random Dalish Elf who fell in love with the witch or as Mother put it "...fell in love because I was something he had never seen before". Her mother, one of the infamous Chasind and quite possibly a witch, she never admitted to it. For some unknown reason of hers, Mother travelled all the way to the arid and barren Anderfels, one of the literally worst places one can live and raise a child in, settled among the Orth tribe of the Wandering Hills and soon after, she gave birth to Erinya right in the middle of summer.

Growing up is hard and growing up in the Anderfels is much, much harder. From the constant threat of Darkspawn, the scarcity of food, scarcity of law, scarcity of life in general to the often deadly weather itself. Erinya was around 8 when her mother made her watch a genlock slaughter an innocent old man before she sent an arrow right between its eyes as it had just noticed them.



She never forgot her words, not really. Eight year old Erinya wasn't shocked nor scared, not even scarred. She understood at that moment, how fair the world is through its unfairness. Some are born to suffer, others to live in pleasure. Some are as important as a bucket with a hole and others make their names echo for all eternity.

The Orth took them both in as their own, they faced no prejudice, ever, thus mother and daughter both considered themselves a part of the tribe. Erinya learned how to use the bow and the dagger, how to hide in plain sight and how to survive without water from them, her body getting much more exercise than she needed since a very young age. They taught her everything they taught their own younglings and even more as was somewhat of a prodigy, her ability with a bow matching that of the tribes's best marksmen. By her 11th birthday, Erinya had already killed a genlock, didn't even blink when she saw the arrow slide right through the opening of it's rusty helmet, she was already preparing another arrow for its also unlucky ally. Soon, she and her mother left the Anderfels and stayed for almost a year in the Korcari Wilds where her mother introduced her to her people, the Chasind, who taught her the ways of the forest and of the tribe. Erinya always had a mind that easily took in new things and this time wasn't different.

They travelled back home, as she felt about the Anders, and once again joined the tribe she had grown with. That also didn't last as Mother disappeared one day, leaving behind only a letter written in Chasind where she wished her luck and gave some information about why she left that Erinya hasn't told anyone.

As the years passed and Erinya was now an adult and a very important part of the tribe, it didn't take long for her to receive various marriage proposals from the tribe's up and coming singles. But ambition burned inside of her and staying in the Wandering Hills for her whole life was never an option. Quietly, without any fuss, she packed and left on one especially hot and humid night. She made her way to the capital, Hossberg, where she met Anteus, a mercenary of the Green Men, a band comprising of the best marksmen in Thedas meant to protect caravans travelling towards the distant port of Leysh through these always dangerous lands. After convincing him that she had the potential to be in the company, she joined them and led the life of a mercenary, through its many ups and downs for three years, until one fateful day a couple of months after her 22nd birthday when they came across a group of Grey Wardens fending off a particularly large band of Darkspawn. Their combined forces saved the day and the caravan with minimal loss of life yet the highlight was Erinya, saving the Senior Warden Taliesin's life by shooting down a bolt headed towards him mid air.

Now, she knew of the Order of the Grey and always held them in high regard but never did she seriously think about joining them.

"It's not a profession, it's a Calling."

the Warden told her before inviting her back to Weisshaupt with him, as a Warden-Recruit.

She was pretty happy with her life but she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't meant to be just a mercenary either. So she said yes and soon enough, the magnificent headquarters of the Order stood in front of her. There were five other recruits alongside her, all hand picked by Taliesin. One of them was Taliesin's son, Feodor, the man she would end up marrying and conceiving a child with, in the night they spent together before their Joining. They were the only ones to survive the Joining and Erinya was now one of the Grey, something which gave her purpose and filled her with the ambition to use her skills for helping the people of the Anderfels.

The next four years of her life were quite possibly her best, she was truly happy. They planned their future with Feodor and for the following months the two Wardens would travel on their own throughout the Anderfels, helping everyone they could while falling deeper and deeper in love with each other, until the effects of pregnancy brought her back to Weisshaupt where she gave birth to a healthy girl, Elleria. They eventually got married and Taliesin took her as his daughter, naming her Ishanni, the name of his long dead wife. She felt that she belonged, this was her little family and she would do everything in her hand to make the world a safer place for her daughter and her husband as well as the people.

Soon enough, Erinya or Ishanni, was well enough to start travelling again, with Elleria being taken care of by her grandfather, Taliesin, since in her own head, while she did miss moments she would never get back, she was certain that the world her daughter would live in, would be safer. This went on for a few months until the couple decided to settle down in the Wandering Hills where rareky Grey Wardens ever set foot due to its remote location and lack of importance, to be frank. The three lived there together, growing and maturing.

No dream lasts forever though.

It was an ordinary call for help like many others but this time, a father of four was possessed and threatening to burn his children alive along with his house. And Erinya just wouldn't allow that to happen.

She used her deathroot extract to enter a deep trance combined with an Elven ritual Feodor knew, certain he would drive the demon back, proud of her skills and prowess regardless of the fact that it was the first time she was entering the Fade. She did manage to drive the demon back and the farmer was safe as well as his kids. So was Feodor.

But she wasn't.

Countless voices starting vying for her attention soon after, her dreams started being plagued by nightmares and soon she even started seeing visions of horrible things. Feodor, worried about her, immediatelly wrote to his father who begun the long trek to the Wandering Hills alongside two Warden mages, certain that Erinya had been possessed.

They weren't fast enough.

They found her soaked in blood, clutching little Elleria's corpse for dear life, Feodor also dead on their bed, his throat slit, whispering incoherent things, crazed. She doesn't really know what happened before or what happeed next, she's certain that she died with them, with her people. She has no clue why she still wakes up despite being dead. On her way to the Circle located in Hossberg in order for her to be kept under the watchful eye of the mages, she escaped and ran, ran as far as her feet could take her and lost track of time. She could have been roaming for months, maybe years, with no recollection of what she did or how she survived.

But she did survive and found herself joining a band of mercenaries, the Oathbreakers, her best bet to avoid anyone asking too many questions or coming across familiar faces. She was an outlaw after all and a particularly dangerous one, at that.

And there has she been until today, fighting and living, day after day, a usually empty husk of a person driven by instinct and some sort of twisted willpower, barely having any memories of anything at all.

Erinya usually isn't someone you can talk to. Aloof and talking to herself or disappearing for hours at a time, speaking in riddles and acting without the least bit of logic.

She rarely ever is herself and those moments are the worst because that's when she remembers. That's when she realizes. That's when it all comes rushing back and she denies herself the pleasure of slitting her own throat or just falling on the first blade she finds drawn against her.


she keeps repeating to herself, gotta earn death.

Only time you can somewhat get a glimpse of just who she was is during battles when her training takes over and her face looks more like the Grey Warden of the Anders who had saved countless lives and less like a complete, Fade-Touched, lunatic.

•5 years, 11 months and 8 days.

Rogue | Ranger

Erinya rarely ever dirties her hands with blood in gruesome melee. Her bow and arrows never failed her and she intends to keep it that way. Being a master ranger makes her always capable of finding a suitable location to oversee the battle and send her arrows flying in order to support her allies first and rain fury on her enemies second.

•Ranger's Boon: Summon Wolf / Bear / Spider.*
•Green Men Represent: One of the best marksmen in Thedas.
•Chasind Survivalist: When in the woods, Erinya is always the hunter, never the hunted. Stealthy, agile and with a knack for ambushes as well as capable of finding everything she needs to survive.
•Fade-Touched: Since she entered the Fade almost eight years ago in order to try and fight a demon who had possessed a single father of four, she hasn't been all there. Visions, voices, vivid dreams, Erinya has been plagued by them.
•Multilingual: Erinya, other than being fluent in Common, can also speak Dalish, Ander as well as Chasind.

•Taliesin Far-Eye: Senior Grey Warden, last known location was the Order's HQ, Weisshaupt Fortress. Taliesin was Fedor's father and the one who conscripted her into the Grey Wardens.
•Mother: Of Chasind origin and almost certainly a witch, Erinya's mother is probably still alive, back in the Korcari Wilds, home of her people.
They haven't been in contact since she left Erinya, right after her 13th birthday.

•Shok: Erinya never really had enough of an interest in the Qunari, in order to want to find out more about them yet Shok, for the short time he's been with the company, has always been eager to share his knowledge. She enjoys his straightforward manner and is proud to shed blood along side him.

•Garlenn Fellblade: Erinya always felt that the Dwarf has been a kindred spirit, a fellow veteran of the ever-present Darkspawn threat and someone who always followed his own path in life, no matter how difficult that appeared to be. She trusts him with the lives of anyone in the Oathbreakers and gladly follows him into battle.

•Krios: If you wanna see how much of a good hand you've been dealt in life, join a mercenary company." Erinya always said. She knows that Krios carries a deep sorrow and a heavy burden, she can see it in his eye and the Avvar warrior can probably see the same in her. She always enjoys sharing some ale with him while talking shit about the Chantry.

•Aseema Viranni: The Elf has been among the Oathbreakers pretty much since they were formed yet this kind of profession has yet to corrupt her childlike curiosity, the way she lights up whenever something that interests her, is brought up. Erinya likes her, she's one of the more light-hearted of the group and enjoys delving into Elven history with her.

•Ovra Paerat: Having been in the Oathbreakers the most, Erinya has become familiar with the Dwarf, she has been there since day one and pretty much runs the company. She hasn't really bonded with her though, the Bard has her secrets and Erinya has hers. Yet she's part of their group, spilling blood and sweat together and Erinya will fight for her like any other.

•Eirny: The Elf has been one of the newer members of the company thus Erinya isn't as familiar with her as with the rest. However, she's keeping an eye on her, as she doesn't think the City Elf has really tasted the true bitterness of the road, bloodshed and all. According to her story, she's led a pretty sheltered life for a mercenary, Erinya feels.

•Ma Vhenan: What can be said for Erinya's bow? Created by one of the greatest woodsmiths among the Dalish, it is made to fit her hands perfectly, a priceless wedding gift from her husband and his family which has served her greatly through the years. Comes with a 21-arrow quiver and the runes inscribed on it carry the motto of the Grey Wardens as well as the Elven name given to Erinya during her wedding.
•1x Generic Steel Dagger
•1x Quiver
•21x Steel Tipped Fine Elven Arrows.

•Warden Scout's Tunic: Despite having deserted the Grey Wardens for her reasons, Erinya still practically lives in her Warden days armor although it's not as clean these days and there's thick leather sewn all over it in order not to give away this part of her past. Too much attention would be fatal as she's still a wanted woman.
•1x Thick Leather Thigh-High Boots
•1x Flax Shirt, 1x Flax Pants
•1x Traveler's Cloak, Dark Green

•1x Bow, String & Arrows Repair and Maintenance Kit*
•1x Needle & Thread
•1x Wolf Whistle
•1x Bear Lure
•1x Spider Lure
•1x Herbalism Kit

•2x Health Potions
•3x Injury Kits

•14x Deep Mushrooms
•1x Waterskin
•4x Crow Poison Vials
•1x Quiet Death Vial
•2x Flasks of Deathroot Extract

•1x Medium Sized Traveller's Backpack.
•2x Vial Pouch

•1x Steel Weathered Grey Warden insignia
•1x Diary
•1x Dirty Ol' Child's Doll
•2x Wedding Rings
•1x Chasind Bone Medallion

Orzammar Merchant District

Garlenn is fairly large for a Dwarf, with broad shoulders that frame his trim body. He might still be short by human standards, his eyes level just above their belly button. However, he is nearly a head taller than most Dwarves, with the rugged and muscled body proportions to match. His skin is leathery and scarred in various places, particularly along his apeish arms (Not to mention the ritualistic tattoos of the Legion). If his body didn't tip you off how nasty of a piece of work he his, Garlenn's constant shit eating grin will be the nail in the coffin. His thick head is covered in a truly massive amount of blonde hair, both atop and on his chin, both similarly braided as well.

Born as a casteless Dwarf who grew up in poverty, Garlenn's parents had shamed themselves and had lost their positions as merchants, leaving him in squalor. When he was eight, they decided to flee to the surface to garner a better life for themselves, but traveling through the Deep Roads, Garlenn wandered off and became lost due to an inherent curiosity. Unfortunately, this led to his losing his parents and only finding Orzammar again through sheer luck, essentially leaving him stranded and thought dead by his mother and father.

With no one to take care of him, the Casteless youngster had to fight for every scrap of food or shelter he could get his hands on from an early age, even going so far as to committing murder by the age of sixteen over a lost cache of food. He'd never forget the wet blood on his hands, and the feeling of disgust that it brought him. Worst come to worst...he was a Dwarf. To kill one of his fellow stone dwellers shook him. He needed an out, but he did not know how to get to the surface world.

At first he left the Casteless sections, stealing, exploring the deep roads for abandoned valuable, and trying his hand at dealing under the table with merchants. It was profitable for a time, but after a few years, he felt he was digging himself into a debt hole. Stone curse it, he couldn't maintain such a lifestyle, and on a whim one drunken night, he knew what he was to do.

Garlenn joined the Legion of the Dead, and he and his fellows fought for every inch of ground to regain useage of the Deep Roads. Garlenn was among the most feircesome of fighters in the Legion. For despite his underhanded nature, he found he did value his race and homeland. What's more, Garlenn felt he had a real knack with handling weapons and throwing his weight around in a fight, being far quicker than most would expect as well.

He fought and bled for his people within the Deep Roads, almost seeing it as a way to atone for his criminal acts. Large Darkspawn incursions and pockets of nameless beasts of the deep died by his axe, and the axes of his fellows. He spent nearly a decade in the Deep, and kept it up until there was nary any Dwarves left in his particular group save he and three others after a particularly large and bloody campaign. The Darkspawn in that attack was truly overwhelming, and as he saw an Ogre tear apart one of his dearest friends, he had an epiphany.

When he found out that his luck had him survive, he realized that no one but he would drink to his friend's death. No one would care if he was slain. Yes, that was apart of the responsibility of the Legion, but it was not individual glory he sought. He sought for he and his fellows to be acknowledged at all. Instead they were treated as already deceased. He had felt looked down upon his entire life, and after having served his nation, and seeing what he had seen...now that his pent up energy and anger had been expended in blood lust, he saw it clearly.

Well fuck that. The stone take them all! He'd rather the surface world instead, and since he knew how to traverse the Deep Roads now, so he went, becoming a deserter. He made his way to the surface, and decided to make his living as a mercenary and informant, traveling across Ferelden and Orlais, killing bandits, beasts, and all manner of enemies, finding the Oathbreakers and becoming the resident Darkspawn expert.

Those not used to the dark aspects of the world might consider Garlenn reprehensible. But to those who've seen the horrors of war and poverty, he's a fine companion and even amusing in his own way. Garlenn is boisterous and quick witted, always ready for a physical or verbal scrap. Killing and stealing is a profitable business for this savvy minded son-of-the-stone, and he does sometimes take pleasure in it, admittedly. However he isn't malevolent, per say. There aren't many cruel acts he commits out of sheer hatred. 'Nothing personal' he'll say. Indeed, the foes he most enjoys slaying are Darkspawn.

4 Bloody Years

Warrior

Garlenn will either be on the front lines reaping havoc with his Axe, or behind enemy lines to slit a few throats and break a few necks...before reaping havoc with his Axe.

Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later.

• 6 Lockpicks
• 12 Caultrops
• Grappling hook and 35 ft of rope.
• utility belt

.

...

Val Royeaux Alienage

Eirny stands at an unimpressive 5'2" and has a wiry physique. Her most notable features--besides the large, pointed ears--are her ivory hair and her amethyst eyes. She keeps a few long wisps of hair dangling at the front of her face, more often than not found braided, knotted, or beaded away from her eyes while the rest of her hair is kept short as a bob. Her complexion is light as it is with most of her kind and pasted with freckles here or there.

Born to a pair of poor city elves in Val Royeaux's extensive alienage, Eirny spent most of her dawn years learning with her peers at the vhenadahl or in some small home or other when it was available. There were so many packed in that the smaller children often sat in the laps of the elder ones to conserve space. In her first ten years of life, she never questioned the way things were done even when some of the children went missing; perhaps they died of illness which was not uncommon within such cramped quarters or perhaps they went somewhere more interesting.

Eirny would invent her own stories sometimes for where they went. Perhaps they had gone to join their wilder, freer brothers and sisters in the forests, or maybe they strayed too far and Fen'Harel snatched them up. Sometimes tiny lights came to her when she was alone and whispered stories about where her friends had gone; however, the stories they told were always vague and sometimes nonsensical. Occasionally, one of the stories would upset her and the spirits would glow soothingly to calm her worries. Whatever the case, her parents told her not to think about it and assured her she would never leave them.

It wasn't until her early teens when her aptitude for magic became more apparent--particularly of the spirit sort--that Eirny was taken from her home to the White Spire for training and harrowing. The Chantry and its Templars became a constant presence in her life during her stay, and she grew to hate and love them in her own ways. She found one or two of the friends that went missing from the alienage here, and it made the transition a bit easier. One particular new friend she made was her mentor, Rhys, who was very skilled at interacting with wisps and spirits such as she had. He along with a few important others safely guided her through training and interacting with her innate spirit magics and eventually through her successful Harrowing. Like many mages, she does not talk of the demon(s) or other things she saw while in the Fade.

A few weeks later, it was one of her alienage friend's Harrowing. His trial seemed to go on for days, and the wisps that came to her hinted at him weakening. It was a week before she saw him again, but by then he was Tranquil. It hurt her heart in ways she hadn't expected. She had known Tranquil before him and they all seemed content with their lot in life; her friend, Aesin, did now, too, but he wasn't the same. The light from his eyes was gone, sometimes it seemed like he did not even notice her, and her wisps refused to go near him. The Spire was the largest Circle in Orlais, possibly in all of Thedas, yet Eirny never felt more suffocated in her life. Even her life in the alienage paled in comparison.

She began to throw herself into her studies of healing magics in the hopes of finding some lost way to help Aesin, something the others may have overlooked or hidden. She was almost like a woman possessed as she would study tomes, writings, and rituals for days on end. In time, she became a very skilled spirit healer but was not one step closer to discovering anything to help her friend. As with all spirit healers, the more skilled she became the more demons tried to entice her. Many promised they could cure her friend if she only brought them over. Eventually, repeated disappointments with avenues of study and relentless demonic propositions drove her to avoid her friend and the thought of him altogether.

Eirny was a highly respected and trusted member of the White Spire's Circle by this time. While far from an expert, she was well-versed in healing magics and spirits by this point. Having seen the dangers of demons firsthand, she was an ardent supporter of the Chantry, the Templars, and the Circle. While she struggled with the fate of her friend, in the end she knew that it was for the best if he could not control himself. Her heart still ached for the loss of his friendship, but she had to think that there was a reason behind it all.

One night, as she lie resting in her bed, a Templar came to her room and ordered her up to follow him. As she wiped the sleep from her eyes, she hadn't the faintest idea what it all could be about but she had not reason to distrust. As ordered, she packed her belongings quickly and followed dutifully. When they were in the undercroft of the building, that was when she began to feel something wasn't right. She hesitated on the last steps before the murky waters below and the Templar turned back. When she questioned where they were going and what was happening, she was hit with a blinding force that echoed through her bones and knocked her unconscious.

When she came to, she felt like she was on a moving vehicle. Her hands, mouth, and eyes bound, only the wisps around her attempted to explain the situation. She had grown to understand them better over the years and knew for sure now that this Templar did not have noble intentions; they told her he carried her blood and intended to sell her. It was a long trip before this was confirmed with her arrival in Hasmal. Here, she was to be sold, phylactery and all, but the deal went bad for the Templar and the slaver, with neither one of them ending up with the intended reward.

This is all the story she ever told the Oathbreakers when she joined up a year ago. It was all the story she planned to ever tell unless otherwise coerced. Nevertheless, she assured them that her phylactery was destroyed in the struggle. An apostate now, she had no intention of returning to the White Spire or any Circle. Not after that night.

Eirny often comes off as somewhat distracted, but that can usually be explained by the wisps that pop in and out around her. Many times they are overlooked by passersby and so she appears to be listening to thin air, but she keeps her wits about her. She's at home with elves and humans the most, of course, as she grew up with them. Reserved on a few topics--such as her past--she is generally a fairly open person. She is direct in her speech unless finesse is called for and doesn't like to dance around a subject. Intelligent, quick to care for the injured, and slow to trust.

1 year

Mage | Spirit Healer

Filling the supporting role, you'll find her wherever the most help is needed, whether up front or in the rear.

Herbalism: allows Eirny to create potions, poultices, and salves using various ingredients.

Herbal Lore: Eirny is able to identify most any type of plant, herb, or otherwise used in the creation of healing items.

First Aid: Even without the use of her magics and poultices, Eirny is a talented nurse and caretaker.

Streetwise: Being raised in the largest alienage—and in the largest city—in Orlais has its own perks; Eirny is comfortable moving in and interacting in large crowds.

Speak with Spirits Since early age, Eirny has had wisps around her. With years of experience and guidance, she can give them simple commands and even puzzle out some of their simple thoughts.

Rhys: Mentor, idol, friend. Helped Eirny come into her own understanding of her powers during her time at the White Spire.

Aesin: Close friend from her childhood in the alienage. Before made Tranquil, she considered him her best friend, being one of few who truly understood where and what she had been through. She still mourns his loss.

Caelis (father) & Aeryn (mother) of the Val Royeaux alienage: Eirny’s parents whom she assumes still live at the alienage. She hasn’t seen them since she was taken to the White Spire years ago. Parted on good terms with no siblings—at that time, anyways.

Reginald: The Templar whom attempted to sell Eirny to slavers from the White Spire. His whereabouts and well-being are unkwnown to her following the incident. She assumes he would not tell anyone of his misdeed or how a mage and her phylactery strangely went missing on his watch...

Aseema Viranni: A long time veteran of the Oathbreakers, Eirny thought she'd feel more comfortable near the elf who shares her knack for magic, but she just isn't the same as the elves back home. She's not quite how she pictured a Dalish elf, either, besides the vallaslin she wears and some of the words she speaks. While Aseema's experience is valued, more often than not Eirny feels very awkward and alien around her.

Erinya/Ishanni: Eirny has a hard enough time forming her own opinion of Erinya without her wisps whispering incessantly in her ears. Even when she has moments of lucidity, the woman was an oddity to Eirny. The wisps are generally in such a frenzy when they talk about her that Eirny has trouble deciphering each thought. What she does know, however, is that she is ill in mind and body; Eirny is determined to help her if she can.

Garlenn Fellblade: Her first impressions of the dwarf after joining were fairly favorable. Eirny found amusement in his glibness and loquaciousness. Her good opinion of him is somewhat injured by his ferociousness in combat. She fights because she has to now, not ever because she enjoyed it. Still, when out of combat, she almost feels a fondness of sorts towards the battered dwarf. Even without the physical evidence to show it, her spirits tell her he has many scars.

Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold: Probably the most interesting human Eirny has ever met. Serious a good bit of the time, Eirny enjoys the moments when he laughs or cracks a smile at some witty comment one person or other has made. She finds him fascinating in that he is a warrior with some magical abilities but he feels very different from the Templars with whom she spent so much time in the Spire. His magic feels very familiar and even her wisps enjoy being around him.

Ovra Paerat: Ovra makes Eirny wish she knew more dwarves early on in life. Out of all the ones she has met since leaving the Circle a year ago, Ovra was by far the most interesting of the group. Also quick with a quip, she never lacks for life or laughs to bring to the party. Sometimes her spirit friends whisper about the shadows that hang over her, but Eirny accepts that we are all flawed in our own ways. And anyways, Ovra has only ever been good to her since joining.

Shok: One of the few recruits newer than herself, Eirny initially had a strong distaste for the Qunari. She hadn't met many, but he seemed more dour than most and add to that his use of blood magic. Her views were newly colored the first time she saw him work as a healer. She could see the passion he held for his craft as he worked, severely softening her opinion and even endearing her to him a bit. She appreciates his directness, though sometimes thinks he could do with some tact. Her spirits hum a sad song for him sometimes.

Enchanter’s Staff (A gift from Rhys; kept well-wrapped when not in use)
Iron dagger

Creation: Heal, Rejuvenate, Glyph of Paralysis, & Spell Wisp

Spirit: Spell Shield & Mind Blast

Spirit Healer: Group Heal

Cloth robes with hood (as pictured above)
Cloth gloves
Leather boots

Empty bottles for potion/poultice/etc. making
Herbalism Kit
Smelling salts

Lesser injury kit x2
Injury kit x1
Healing Potion x2
Health Poultice x2
Lyrium Potion x2

3 days worth of dry rations
Waterskin
Roll of fresh herbs

Reagent bag (holds herbs)
Potion and empty bottle holder (holds 3 at a time)
Cloth backpack (spare clothes, unequipped items, empty bottles, small camp roll and her various other belongings already listed)

A worn book Eirny is often seen reading. She keeps it safely wrapped and stashed in her backpack when not in use.
A vial of spirit essence received during her time at the Circle.

The Dales

A dark haired elf with a slender frame, soft features and a pale rosy complexion riddled with gentle freckles, Aseema sticks out a girlish charm given that she's fairly older than she actually looks. She cant even recall how many times the local guards mistake her to be some delinquent teenager on the streets and this would annoy her to an extent. Appearance wise she is fairly good looking though at most she wears her face uninvitingly, in a indifferent and frowning expression, undermining her true indicative beauty. Her eyes are most expressive, round and long lashed in a way that one could easily see though her even if she says so little. The elf considers this as one of her dire weaknesses as her helpless responses gives whatever she's hiding away so instantly and finds it a challenge to hide unnecessary feelings.

Aseema hates the sun. From her experience, her pallid complexion is prone to the nastiest sunburns so most likely she dons over a cloak to keep her protected. Her hair is a dark wavy mess, usually tied up to keep it in place. Her choice of clothing would be robes and leathers, light enough to move around and protected at the same time. She carries around a satchel bag to contain her equipments.

Aseema was practically born into keeperhood. While every mage born elf clamor and kill for at an opportunity, Aseema more likely considers it a misfortune rather than anything. This was never the case back when she was younger. As early as five her guardians instilled the fantasy and glamor of keeperhood, which the young Aseema fell for. It was hard training but she proved to be the best among her contenders.

Aseema had very limited memory of her own parents. She never knew her father, who had died whilst defending the clan from slavers and her mother had to raise her alone until she disappeared one day. Her hunting pary went missing, and never knew what became of them. Only some speculations that they were intercepted by Tevinter slavers. She was then taken under the care of various relatives before officially becoming the keeper's first.

One day she went exploring, a young Aseema happened to pass by an old abandoned home filled with nothing but old and worn out books. It was a shame for someone to leave them forlorn so as to not have them go to waste, and out of her own curiosity she secretly brought some back to the camp to read. Her interest of human books grew, from the pages she saw another world beyond the clan. It excited her, awakening the wanderlust within her and from then on fantasized of going to these worlds. She would regularly visit her favorite spot and contently indulge herself in literature all day.

In many ways books had educated her about the world beyond the confines of her clan. The customs, the people, their clothing and politics. All these made her scrutinize the clan's own purposes, realizing how small and narrow they are compared. The dalish are a stagnant community, never really improving, nor learning anything new and Aseema knew from then on that she did not want to live that way. The isolation and limits of tradition dragged her, a concern she one day shared to her mentor. Yet the keeper was not so glad about what his young first had been mysteriously learning and later on found out that she had been bringing in foreign books inside the clan. He saw this as a distraction to her true duties, and ordered them to get rid off it. She was torn between her fate as the keeper, and her desire for adventure. Until one night of fitful argument had ultimately fixed her decision, on going on a spontaneous adventure that very next morning. Like any other young, naive and adventurous soul, Aseema stood by her desire to leave and hid on a carriage cart to be smuggled out the Dales, never looking back on the life she came to detest.

It didn't take long for her to regret that decision however. The moment she was dropped to Hamsal, became the most tumultuous moment in her life. Aseema could not keep up with everything and since she wasn't exactly ready and well equipped for it, with no real knowledge aside from the books she read. What she saw had greatly disappointed her. Hamsal was really nothing like the progressive and colorful human cities that she had read about. Only that at any given moment was some sort of danger waiting to pounce at her around the corners. It was an over all peculiar and terrifying experience. Yet the young elf is not without spirit, at least to a certain extent. She navigated the city as best she could, at the same time careful and observant of any possible danger. But this wasnt enough prevention from muggers, slavers and one time, the Circle as she carelessly made a public display of her magical abilities. Her naivete was mostly to blame for this series of unfortunate encounters.

The days she spent in the city, her luck slowly depletes with it. Though she found work at a local tavern, and is doing a terrible job at it, had somehow helped her get by, but one day things started to turn around when she was given an opportunity for mercenary work. Something that she never really considered before but at that point she gladly went for it.
The promise of adventure hooked her right in, and got rid of her plain tavern job. It was an opportunity she could not miss that she practically threw herself at her employer, but ultimately her abilities proved her to be a well deserved addition to the Oathbreakers.

Aseema has this unquenchable thirst for knowledge. She always has this desire to learn new things and the drive to delve into the unknown and unexplored. Anything new to her is bound to gain her interest, it goes without saying such character is prone to some trouble along the way. She lives by a "what could possibly go wrong" attitude, hence uncaring of the consequences and willingly taking risks whether light or heavy makes no difference to her, all for the sole purpose of learning. Although she says that, when bad decisions came with regrets, it's one thing that will eat her the most. Seen as quiet, uncaring and indifferent, she lights up like forest fire when her interests are a subject, her eyes would glimmer at anything exciting and mostly she has a hard time concealing it. Basically, she's always the first to lose at a game of wicked grace.

Growing up in seclusion from the outside, it's only natural for her to be wary among new people, this did not help her much at the beginning however the time she spent with the group years later had made her got over that. In those ten years, she remarkably matured and grew, and more so understanding the world in both viewpoint and action. Aseema still hung around during those ten years, considering that she has nowhere else to go if she ever did. Sure there are other opportunities to take, and her thirst for adventure would take her between continents but at the end of the day she finds herself coming back to them, she grew so sentimental that she could never imagine living a life without them, more than she likes to admit.

A decade

Mage | Keeper

Aseema does both offensive and defensive with a preference for long ranged combat, as her obvious lack of physical strength makes her useless in upfront combat unless she's shapeshifting.

Dalish Lore- Has a reasonable amount of knowledge about the Dalish, being born and educated there.

Alchemy- Has a wide range of knowledge with herbs and alchemical healing.

Stealth- Developed from years of keeping away from trouble, she can manage to slip into anything if it calls for desperate measures.

.

Keeper Falael - Clan keeper, mentor. The closest father figure she has since her own. A serious and demanding man, yet compassionate and approachable. They had a heated argument because of her own doubts of the clan and keeperhood. She regrets her actions towards her up to this day, and wishing she could go back and be forgiven, only to give her some ease.

Nayara - Mother. The clan's head hunter, one day went missing together with her party. It was believed that they were ambushed or killed by Tevinter slavers while on their hunting. A fun and loving mother to Aseema. One of the fondest memories of she has of her is the lullaby she hums when putting a very young Aseema to sleep, carrying in her arms and the smell and feel of her long dark hair against her cheeks.

Felix - Barman, old boss. The moment Aseema came into the tavern, he instantly figured the girl wasnt from around the city. He almost pitied her, and the moment he realized she seemed like needing some help. Though he may be twice as demanding and hard assed as the keeper, he was kind enough to offer her a job and a place to stay. Aseema would still visit the tavern if she had the time, if only to unwind and have a mug of his good stuff.

Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later.

-Heartwood Staff
-Carving knife

-Primal magic- the manipulation of earth and sky, can be used as both offensive and defensive. Aseema can conjure up a wall of earth or armor for protection against instantaneous attacks, or project lightning towards enemies.
-Shape shifting- When things get up close and personal, she turns into a bear and maul the nearest bad guy. She only knows how to shift into one type of animal.

-Leather Armor
-Short fur cloak
-Leather boots
-Dark hand wraps

-Herbalist kit
-Leather bound journal
-Charcoal pen

-Healing Poultice (3x)
-Healing Potion (2x)
-Lyrium Potion (2x)

-Bundles of freshly picked elfroot
-Waterskin
-

-Satchel Bag
-Bandolier

...

Frostback Mountains

Krios stands at around 6ft1 and is of a hefty build, both naturally and as a result of physical fitness. As someone who has spent his entire life fighting either the elements or other living things, he has grown to appreciate the need to keep healthy and thus boasts an impressively toned body. Though even a child can kill a bear if they strike in the right places. His dark brown hair is long and relatively messy, which alongside his grown-out beard gives him a rather bestial appearance. Whilst his hair hides his large rugged jaw and smooths out some of his features, his gloomy ebony eyes give off a ‘don’t fuck with me vibe’. His body has the odd scar here and there, but nothing overally dramatic or noticeable.

Krios was born to Darkhold, an Avvar clan in the Frostback Mountains. He was the eldest of two brothers, his younger brother being Rex. His mother was Tae, the clan’s Shaman, and his father was a warrior named Tuborg.

Growing up Krios was trained how to survive the harsh mountain environment and like most of the boys trained to fight as often as he could. Due to his mother being the Shaman he also witnessed all manner or rituals and magic, but did not seem to have much in the way of magical ability himself (not that he minded). As soon as he was able he began joining the hunting parties and over the years honed his survival instincts and learnt how to fight against wild beasts, rivals/bandits, and the odd darkspawn.

When he was in his late twenties his mother passed, prompting him and his brother to go on a pilgrimage to one of the ranges tallest peaks. They had been told by their mother that it was where the Great Bear Sigfrost (their patron God) sat and that on her passing they should go to him for wisdom. The two travelled for weeks and on many occasions came close to death, be it from malnutrition, the elements or threats. When at last they reached the peak, or what they thought was the right peak, Krios passed out and entered the Fade. Worried for his brother, Rex dragged Krios into a cave and wrapped him in furs before setting off towards what he though was shouting in the distance.

In the fade Krios came face to face with Sigfrost (or at least a being claiming to be Sigfrost) and took the opportunity to challenge him for knowledge. He was successful and was rewarded with mystical energies that he didn’t fully understand. Upon waking he followed his brother’s markings a fair distance, surprised that he had been left alone and unaware of how much time had passed. After about an hour he came across a cave and found signs of battle. To his horror he found a couple of darkspawn corpses and his brother’s bow and quiver.

For days Krios, still fatigued from the pilgramige, desperately tracked the small group of darkspawn down the mountains and into the Korcari Wilds. When he eventually caught up to them he was devastated to find that all that remained of his brother were odd scraps and limbs, that they had been using him to feed their bereskarn. In a bloodlust fuelled rage Krios charged into battle and begun butchering them all. It was only by virtue of his new abilities that he was able to defeat them, and only then barely.

Filled with shame for failing to protect his brother, Krios could not bear to return to his tribe and instead set-off north, eventually finding himself in Fereldan where he resorted to Mercenary work. This is what led him to come into contact with The Oathbreakers

Krios is incredibly practical minded, mostly as a result of his environment. Whilst he is usually rather serious he can, on rare occasions, crack or take a joke. He responds badly to anyone attempting to intimidate him and has no fear of fighting. He is good under-pressure and whilst he likes to take charge of a situation, he will listen to the opinions and suggestions of others. As an Avvar he finds some cultural aspects of ‘regular life’ strange and finds the chantry and its beliefs irritating. He loves large meals, ale and sharing stories. He hates staying in one place for too long and becomes infuriated at the sight of bereskarn.

6 years

Spirit Warrior

Krios tends to fight on the front lines and gets up close and personal with his axe.

Good survivalist able to track and hunt.
Very skilled fighter when using his axe and can use a sword nearly as well.
Can shoot a bow but not too well (he's certainly not an archer, and prefers to use traps when hunting).
Good climber.
Has learnt moderate control over Beyond the Veil and Soulbrand, but is fatigued more as a result of using them. He continues to practice the use of spirit warrior techniques in his own time.
He cannot swim.

His father Tuborg - “I’ve not seen my old man since I left the tribe nearly a decade ago. He probably thinks I died along with my brother – and truth be told, it’s probably better that way.”

WIP TBC TBH CBA

Feelings on the other members of the group. To be filled in later.

1 waraxe – veridium
1 medium-sized round shield -
His brother’s yew bow and quiver

Mages only. Keep it reasonable

Wears a mix of studded leather armour and fur. He sometimes wears a massive hooded fur cloak over this. His axe sits holstered on his belt, his quiver on his thigh and his bow on his back (which is awkward to remove whilst wearing his cloak. Of course, he has to dress down when in a warmer climate.

1 water flask
1 drinking horn
Flint and steel for fire starting

1 roll of bandages

4 dried strips of beef
1 piece of salted pork
1 small loaf of bread, torn into smaller scraps

Caries two small pouches that hang together on the back left of his waist, and are usually hidden by his cloak.

1 small wooden figurine