Tae'ren Fen'an

19

Dalish Elf

Male

Mage/Shapeshifter

A short young man, even by Elven standards, Tae at first glance is the typical Dalish. Handmade yet well cared for and practical leather and cloth armor, a common lack of true footwear and a constant sneer or more commonly in Tae's case, a tired neutral expression. Tae'ren however, as would any individual of any background, has his own intricacies that show on his person. Though constantly giving off the appearance of bored indifference or sheer exhaustion, he is always present and alert... far more-so than would otherwise be implied. Besides his armor, his scraggly long brown hair hangs just below his chin, often hiding at least one of his crimson eyes from view. At first glance unassuming, but the more one looks, the more they get glances at the storm whirling beneath the surface.

As a mage, and a dalish no less, one might assume his staff to be of some intricate make, but is instead a long, smooth thing that becomes slightly more angular the lower you look upon it, that looks as if it just survived a direct lightning strike. Even his specialization hides upon his features. The leather of his coat allowing peeks of fur to appear between the cracks as if the entire thing was half finished and simply turned for the fur to face inward, the leather strips that make it up at a closer glance appear to hide feathers trapped between their woven shapes, every inch of his clothing seeming to carry some small fragment of an animal, be it bones, fur or feathers. A shapeshifter he is, and he carries with him fragments of the knowledge he had to learn about the animals whose shapes he takes.

Stricken Staff - A simple staff attuned to the element of electricity, and the main source of his magic when not shapeshifted.

Templar Medallion - A surprising trinket to be found on a mage, especially one of Dalish origin. He never elaborates on it, besides that it once belonged to a friend.

Double Flute - A handmade wooden instrument, the two tubes that make it up meet by the mouthpiece at an angle, giving the whole thing a very triangular appearance.

Tracking - From the hunting taught by the Dalish, to the more specialized training during his short time as his clan's first, and finally the more primal sense that came with his training as a shapeshifter, Tae'ren has become extremely proficient at tracking prey of all kinds, in many environments.

Musician - Though mostly done in his spare time, his takes great joy in his double flute and when not ambling about pretending he isn't keeping an eye on his surroundings, the eerie echo of his playing can often be heard.

Stealth - Often called out on his tendency to casually sneak up on people, Tae'ren has always been a quiet young man. Though this is not an uncommon trait for many people, the fact he is a Dalish, and a shapeshifting mage no less often compiles together to greatly unsettle those around him with the ease that he escapes sight unnoticed.

Combat Casting - Time spent at the forefront of combat has allowed Tae'ren to cast his spells with little chance of interruption from foes breathing down his neck. While many mages prefer to remain behind their sturdier comrades, Tae'ren plants himself firmly at the head of any scene, where his constant shapeshifting in and out can help sew just that little bit of chaos often needed in the middle of a fight, as well as throw a few more mundane and expected warding spells or bolts of lightning.

Staff Combat - Many people forget the simplest lessons, when facing Tae'ren? Sticks still hurt even though they're just sticks, and in the case of his staff? Being struck by an electrically charged stick is especially unfun. Tae'ren takes full advantage of the fact he carries his staff, and isn't afraid to crack a few skulls if people forget that sticks can still hurt like hell.

Shapeshift: Direwolf - Taking on the shape of a frighteningly large wolf, the function is fairly self explanatory. Any warrior can claim to be unafraid, but when a beast capable of easily cracking living bone with it's jaws faces them down, few remain laughing.

Shapeshift: Owl - Though less ferocious than his wolf shape, the shape of a bird has it's uses, especially if the moment calls for swift movement across a battle, or terrain not suited to ground travel. Though, in a pinch, the talons of an owl can often be just as frightening as the jaws of any ground-favoring beast.

Chain Lightning - A common enough combat spell, a bolt of lightning that arcs across the battlefield can seldom be called useless.

Barrier - As elementary as it is useful, the ability to cast defensive wards, especially around other people is one of the major reasons allied mages are even tolerated by the average warrior on the battlefield.

Born and raised wandering the forests of Thedas, Tae'ren left behind his clan with no small measure of sadness between them, though none could argue the meaning of his departure. The eldest of his siblings, and at the time, the First to his clan's Keeper... Tae'ren left behind his younger sister to fill his role as First, and though nearly ten years younger than him, he admires the strength she already shows in her studies and magic.

Dalish Prejudice - Shemlen... a word once used as a proper term for the human race, now turned to near slur status used as a slang by both Dalish and City elves to remind both eachother as well as the humans of the grudge they still hold for their stolen land and the fallen Dales... it shows in his speech, his face... Tae'ren has a clear dislike of humans that while he does not hide, he at least attempts to keep it from interfering with his work.

Quiet, often more willing to silently sit among the leaves and allow the world to pass by around him, Tae'ren has a clear love of nature, this love only exaggerated by the frequency of his shapeshifting. Not only limiting it to the combat capability it has, Tae'ren shapeshifts extremely often. At times it is difficult to catch him in his normal shape, but one may notice just how much more expressive he often is while taking on the shape of a beast. Though his dilike of humans and extremely minimal interaction with every other race leaves him more than a bit standoffish, Tae'ren is extremely protective of his comrades and tries surprisingly hard to get to know those around him. He often rubs the Templar Medallion around his neck, the trinket serving as a glorified worry stone that he never parts with. Although his outward appearance makes it difficult to imagine, Tae'ren is still a hopeful young man that wants to see the good in the world around him, even if his own prejudices often get in the way of that.

Forgiveness it seemed, it was a question often debated among Tae'ren's clan. They had hidden, hidden during the recent blight, hid during the mage rebellion, and hid during the rise of the inquisition... but now as the world comes to the head of what seems like yet another great event... the clan came to realize that they had not been simply hiding from danger, but from the fear of their own duty. Months it took to debate, and eventually Tae'ren could take no more of it, vanishing from his clan and leaving behind little more than a note. They would survive without him, and he would bring their honor back, even if it cost him his life... it was the least his clan... that he could do.

Colette du Lafayette aka The Velvet Thorn

24

Human

Female

Rogue/Assassin Bard

Colette stands at 5'7' and has cream-colored skin and light gray eyes. Her hair is light blonde that falls to her lower back, though she usually keeps it tied up when not in disguise. Colette has a scar on her right shoulder from a job gone wrong. Despite how attractive she looks, she rarely has a smile on her face and, when she does, it is only for people who deserve it.

She walks with purpose, but usually quietly. She seldom wears cosmetics when not disguising herself, though she will put in some effort on an average day. Her ensemble consists of light armor and a cloak as it is ideal for sneaking around. She has a pendant she has with her though never wears. If you ask her about it, she is as likely to punch you in the face than answer.

Silveer Pendant - A silver pendant on a chain. It looks like it can be opened up. Colette carries it with her but never wears it.

Dark Daggers - Her primary weapon of choice. Engraved with Orlesian markings, she is never without these at her side.

Lockpicks - Standard fare for a rogue. She's had her set for years now.

Throwing Knives - Suitable for long-distance combat and good for taking out enemies stealthily, Collete carries a few with her as needed

Lockpicking - Colette is able to pick locks with ease. She always carries her tools with her and no door or chest can stand in her way.

Stealth - As an assassin, stealth is key. Colette can use the shadows to help her blend in and move without being seen. Her footfalls are quiet.

Disguise - Colette being a trained bard as well as an assassin is able to disguise herself. She has appeared as an Orlesian noble, a scullery maid, a fishmonger, and even a Templar knight. She is able to trick others through words and actions.

Singer - Despite it all, a bard is a bard and one needs an instrument. Colette uses her voice to charm others and sings beautifully.

Dual Combat - Colette is trained and can fight using a weapon in each hand. She prefers using her dual daggers in a fight, but can also use a sword or axe in a pinch.

Weakpoints - Colette is a rogue and, as such, does not do much in-your-face combat, preferring to sneak around and identify weaknesses in her enemies. She can capitalize on these and inflict more damage, especially if she is unseen.

Throwing Knife Combat - Colette can use throwing knives in battle. She can use them both in and out of stealth. Colette can take down unaware enemies or use them to significantly weaken enemies she is facing off against.

Colette was born and raised in the du Lafayette family, a prominent noble house known for their silks and perfumes. Colette was the youngest of five children to parents who cared more for their wealth than any family bonding. As such, they made many enemies. An attack on their homestead left only Colette and her eldest brother, Sebastien, alive. Having fled their family home, Sebastien was eventually tracked down as the heir and was killed. Colette barely escaped. She was forced to live on the streets and find shelter and food where she could, leaving her to a life of crime. She swore vengeance on the Nobility for taking her family away.

Chip On Her Shoulder - Colette has faced many hardships and met many people who backstabbed her or worse. As such, she is slow to trust others. She often keeps people at arm's length or insults and belittles those she deems unworthy of her time. She has a barbed tongue for even those she does like. She is not without loyalty provided those she is around can prove they have her best intentions.

Colette can be said to be abrasive and snarky and that is not without merit. Having gone through hard times, she views the world as more morally gray than others. A stolen piece of bread might limit the baker's funds for the day, but it provides a starving child nourishment for the evening. Colette is slow to trust others having been betrayed before. She is quick to insult others, even those she considers allies, and is not one to back down from confrontation, especially if people are quick to assume she is weak or soft.

She is not without loyalty or trust though. Colette has a soft spot for children and will go out of her way to ensure they are protected if in danger. When there are those in her life that she deems trustworthy, she is loyal to a fault. She may be slow to admit it, but she has few people she considers friends, but anyone who is one has an ally for life.

Colette's family was murdered before her eyes, leaving a young girl to fend for herself. Walking the streets of Orlais as an urchin did not do much to earn her favors, but Colette quickly realized how easy it was to rob the Nobility. They often did not miss it or care if a few heirlooms were gone. As she grew older, she became bolder and bolder in her crimes. She quickly grew skilled in being unseen and unheard, but she also was able to don a mask of whoever she needed to be if it suited her, allowing her to escape notice from authorities.

Eventually robbing grew dull and without merit. Colette's abilities had grown then and she was handpicked by a small order of Bards to join their ranks. At first, she refused, but the Bards opened her eyes to a world of possibilities where she would make the Nobility pay in blood rather than gold. So she honed her skills and learned more. How to play the role of delicate flower to get an unsuspecting suitor into bed and finish them off.

One such job ended poorly as Colette was left alone when she was promised back-up. She was caught with a Noblle lady she intended to kill and was dragged off to jail. She was quickly sentenced to death and was brought forth for her punishment. Unbeknownst to her and others, a Gray Warden was in the crowd having come to Orlais looking for recruits. Before her sentence could be given he strode forth and conscripted her on the spot. Despite the guard's protests, she was allowed to go with the Gray Warden. Colette, obviously, fought him off at first, but he promised her a home amongst the Wardens should she survive and wouldn't that be better than being on the run so much?

With revenge still hot in her mind, she decided to go along with it and survived the Joining. Colette initially showed resistance but had to learn quickly that teamwork made things easier. Slowly she worked her way into some recognition amongst the order, though most of her work was rarely seen (which was intentional). Colette also learned that the Wardens could, for the most part, be trusted as she managed to get out of some sticky situations with their help. Colette proved to be a valuable asset for information as well as discreet operations. Despite being somewhat new to the order, Colette quickly found a home amongst them.

Cadmus Laenas

28

Human

Male

Mage/Blood Mage

With lush well-groomed black hair and a neatly trimmed beard, at first glance, Cadmus Laenas appeared to be the stereotypical Tevinter Highborn. Completing the look with his navy blue mage robe with gold trim custom-fitted to complement his figure, Cadmus cuts a noble-looking figure. It is no wonder that he is often mistaken as an Altus rather than a first-generation Laetan, especially outside the Imperium where Altus and Laetans are often not distinguished from one another. It is a misconception that Cadmus often neglected to correct when it would be beneficial—and he could get away with it.

Cadmus talks and comports himself in a manner befitting for the Imperium’s high society. His typical mannerisms and etiquette are that of a noble, a byproduct of a Laetan who managed to successfully rub shoulders with the upper classes of the Imperium and has to mimic the way the Altus carry themselves to fit in. After years of mingling with high society, the highborn way of talking and doing things has become habitual, but when not on official functions, Cadmus would often opt for less ostentatious, but more comfortable and practical plain black robes. His staff, however, considered a symbol of status in Tevinter, is an ornate golden-plated mage staff adorned with purple gemstones. As it is both practical and fashionable for high society, Cadmus sees no reason to get a different less ornate staff.

Courtier Outfit - An ornate mage robe with gold trim, styled in a classic style of the Imperium so as to still be fashionably acceptable with little regard to the fashion cycles. Used only for official functions.

Travelling outfit - A practical and comfortable plain black robe with a belt and various pockets to store things.

Dagger - A sharp dagger worn in the belt for easy access. While can be used as a self-defence tool in an emergency, its primary use is to cut open skin for blood magic.

Mage Staff - An ornate ebony staff with gold plating and purple gemstones. A decorative piece that is also sturdy enough to be used as a blunt instrument in an emergency. Imbued with lighting magic.

Crossbow - A light Crossbow kept as an alternative ranged weapon to conserve mana—and blood—it has no special properties but does its job decently enough.

Ritewine - A custom of the Grey Wardens, as a wine enjoyer, the bottle's content has become a mixture of wines from various origins and bottle ages. Rumour among his colleagues has it that the bottle has never been emptied to the last drop, and thus still contains traces of the Imperium's finest wine he bought just before being conscripted. The bottle is marked with "Vintage: Warden Cadmus. Last drop reserved for the Calling."

Arcane Lore - A Laetan who has managed to join the upper echelon of the Imperium partly due to his magical talents, Cadmus boasts an impressive resume of magical knowledge and research capability.

Diplomacy - If one-half of what allowed Cadmus to rise to high status was his magical ability, the other half was the ability to navigate the murky waters of Imperium political intrigue, making him an adept diplomat.

Cooking - Born to a family of Soporati that has a tavern business from his mother's side of the family, Cadmus learned to cook from a young age and still considers it a relaxing hobby to indulge in from time to time.

Marksmanship - After being conscripted as a warden, Cadmus often found himself running out of stamina during missions due to him being more used as part of the Imperium elite. Eventually, he asked a fellow recruit to help him train with a crossbow to conserve his energy. Four years later, now a more seasoned warden with better endurance, Cadmus still continues practising his marksmanship with his crossbow as a practical skill to conserve energy on the field.

Quarterstaff Proficiency - Whacking an opponent with one's staff is considered inelegant and beneath the elite mages of the Imperium. Ask anyone actually serving in the war against the Qunari, though, they will tell you that the ability to use a staff as a blunt quarterstaff can be the difference between being dead or alive. Cadmus' father, who was an Imperium soldier had asked a mage friend he met in the army to teach Cadmus how to use his staff as a pole weapon, just in case.

Group Heal - A spell from the Creation School of Magic, using himself as the focal point, Cadmus can radiate healing magic to heal multiple people. The more people and range the spell encompasses the more mana—or in his case, sometimes blood—the spell requires.

Drain Life - An offensive spell from the Entropy School, allowing Cadmus to sap life energy from a visible target within 10 yards to heal himself.

Blood Control - The infamous spell of the Blood Magic School, allowing Cadmus to take control of a target and probe into their thoughts unless they have sufficiently strong willpower.

Blood Wound - A spell to boil the blood of hostiles within 12 yards of the caster, causing excruciating pain.

Cadmus was born in Minrathous, the heart of the Tevinter Imperium, to a family of Soporati—commoners with no magic—his father was a soldier in the Tevinter Military and his mother worked in a family-owned tavern business alongside his uncle and cousins. He was a second child, with an older sister five years older than he was. After being elevated as a Laetan instead of a Soporati, Cadmus eventually managed to ingratiate himself with the upper echelons of the Imperium. Through his newly attained influence and financial capability, he helped his family’s tavern expand and paid for his sister’s tuition at the University of Orlais in Val Royeaux, where she now stayed as a lecturer. His father, sadly, passed away while on duty in Seheron a year after Cadmus was conscripted to the Grey Wardens.

Stubborn Know-it-All - A 'self-made man' who has achieved great successes in the past, Cadmus often talks as if he is the smartest person in the room with the best opinions. While it has been very much tempered since his fall from grace, it still occasionally comes out as streaks of stubbornness, especially against wild, novel ideas that he thinks are nonsensical.

Hyper Professionalism - While on the one hand, a great sense of personal responsibility and meritocracy make Cadmus possess a good work ethic and idea of fairness, on the other hand, it also often causes friction with others, as he expects the same degree of commitment of others. The sort of person who can fire a man with sick children if said man indeed is failing at his job.

Stubborn and driven, are perhaps, the two characteristics that define Cadmus Laenas the most. When he was first elevated from Soporati to Laetan and finally started to mingle with the ruling class of the Tevinter Imperium, he was appalled by how inefficient and corrupt the internal workings of the supposed ‘Great Empire’ was. Rather than appointing capable publicans and officials, people who jockeyed for status or great mages but who were inept for non-arcane related things were appointed. Being someone who had always thought of himself as capable, he realized then that only by virtue of luck being born as a mage he could even come close to positions that were a given for people much less competent than he was, which meant there were many, perhaps, among the Soporati who were much more competent but was passed over simply for the fact they were…a Soporati. It was through his sheer stubbornness and drive that he managed to rise so far up—almost marrying into a house of Magister—indignant on enacting a change. Of course, were he less stubborn and heeded some of his allies that he was making too many enemies, he might still be among the Imperium elites instead of the Gray Warden.

Of course, with stubbornness comes strong opinions, and Cadmus is certainly not short of opinions. Cadmus has strong opinions on just about everything that catches his interest, never one to shy away from a debate. He often tries to frame his arguments as objectively as he can, refraining from personal anecdotes. For instance, while one might not think of it at first glance, Cadmus is an Andrastian, albeit of the Imperial Chantry…and with many of his own interpretations of its doctrines, but he does believe in the existence of the Maker and Andraste as his herald. Rather than presenting his case through anecdotes of faith experience, however, more often than not, he resorts to philosophical apologetics instead. Cadmus can also go a great lengths to prove a point, for instance, he has focused quite a bit on healing magic just for the sake of proving that Blood Magic is merely a tool—albeit admittedly a difficult one to use—of which the morality of its usage depends on said usage. After all, if he is able to heal with greater potency and efficacy when fuelled with blood magic, then who can deny it has been used for good?

Undergirding his opinionated and driven personality is a deep sense of personal responsibility that lies at the core of Cadmus as a person. He expects much of himself and expects much of others. The reason he worked so hard to enact a change was that he expected better from the Imperium. Non-meritocratic nepotism shouldn’t be the norm for the so-called ruling class, they are in a position of power and have enjoyed the benefits of said power, so it is only proper that they also give back in the form of fulfilling their obligations to the best of their duty, even if that meant giving their seats to a more competent lower class if need be. To Cadmus, if one were to do something, then that something must be done to the best of their ability. While he had not joined the wardens willingly, he is now a Gray Warden, and he will do his utmost for their mission.

Though born a Soporati, when Cadmus was 7 years old, he manifested magical ability and was then sponsored into the Circle, unlike the Southern part of Thedas, in Tevinter what would typically be a cause for distress was instead a cause for celebration, magical ability being highly valued and the Circles in the Imperium more akin to prestigious learning institutions. Due to his work ethic and magical talent, he eventually found himself in the position of a minor official in the Imperium. He eventually became disillusioned with the way Imperium’s government was run and threw himself deeper into politics, hoping to rise to a higher station to enact a reformation. By 9:41 Dragon, when the Venatori was on the rise within Tevinter, Cadmus correctly identified that their movement was unsustainable and threw his lot in with the Inquisition-backed faction led by Maevaris Tilani. Later, when the Inquisitor defeated Corypheus and the Venatori fell, many among the reformist faction—including Cadmus—with the support of Magister Maevaris Tilani and later Magister Dorian Pavus ended up filling various vacuums of power. Cadmus then used the new station to propel his political career even further.

By 9:46 Dragon, Cadmus was influential enough to be considered for an arranged marriage with one of Tevinter’s Great Houses, whose daughter was in line to be a Magister succeeding her father. It was more a marriage of convenience than actual love—though Cadmus did consider his fiancée a friend—that would cement Cadmus as a prominent figure in the Imperium’s politics. Unfortunately, he was outmanoeuvred, throughout his career, he had made many enemies, most of them people he deemed incompetent and replaced them with competent people, many of whom deemed to be of lower ranks. The culmination of Cadmus’ political adversary’s plot saw him arrested by Imperial Templars for blood magic usage. While he was a blood mage, mages of the Imperium using blood magic were a public secret, and the only mages arrested by Imperial Templars were those targeted for political purposes, such as the case with Cadmus. Cadmus was only spared after a Gray Warden who had been a war buddy of Cadmus’ father before joining the Wardens invoked the rite of conscription to recruit Cadmus to the Grey Wardens instead.

While he was sullen and angry the first few months the joining, both due to still not accepting what had happened to him and that his life was now cut short due to the taint, he eventually accepted his place within the wardens both to ‘repay’ their help in sparing him execution and his personal adage of ‘if one were to do something, then that something must be done to the best of their ability’. He was now a warden, whether he liked it or not, so why not make the most of it rather than sulking until he eventually dies either from darkspawns or the joining?

Kiora

Twenty-Eight (28) Y/O

Human

Female

Reaver (Warrior)

Kiora can be described as everything that comes to mind when one thinks of a Chasind warrior. She stands tall at six feet solid (one hundred eighty-two point two centimeters) with sun-kissed skin, a sturdy physique, and mysterious brown eyes and flowing raven hair. Her palms and feet are calloused from the life of a wilder and while not grotesquely marred she has the stray scar and blemishing across her body. Sitting in the midst of this hardened build is a face that, despite the occasional scowl or empty stare, is alluring and glows with life and intelligence. Her hair is usually kept tied in a simple ponytail or sometimes in a single braid down her back.

Kiora walks, talks, and acts generally with an assertive confidence. While at times abrasive and intense she is not unpredictably savage and knows how and when to avoid making a scene and drawing attention to herself.

Kiora is rarely seen outside of her armor and her sword and axes are always close at hand. As a proper warrior and a Grey Warden both Kiora always keeps herself at the ready for danger, be it the darkspawn or otherwise.

Redgnaw - Redgnaw is Kiora’s trusted sword. A two-handed Chasind flatblade that belonged to her father, taken from the battlefield where he fell during their tribes’ final ill-fated stand against the Darkspawn early on during the Fifth Blight. This sword has savored the blood of men, elves, dwarves, darkspawn, wyverns, and even a dragon.

Twin Dwarven Waraxes - Kiora acquired these twin axes from a surfacer dwarf not long after she became a Reaver, taking them as payment in exchange for slaying a rival of his. They make for a fine secondary choice of armament and she uses them in place of her greatsword when finesse and speed are necessary.

Grey Warden Armor

Father’s Amulet - Kiora’s final memory of her father was looking up at him as he handed her his amulet before leaving with the warriors of the tribe to fight the wretched darkspawn. It was a gift from Kiora’s mother to him, a leather cord baring a totem of stone and iron in the shape of a writhing dragon. Simple in appearance but deep in its meaning to Kiora.

Master Combat Training - As a young Chasind, Kiora was trained in the ways of a warrior by her uncle and the elder fighters of her tribe. She was relentlessly driven and groomed to be the perfect warrior.

Survival Skills - Life in the Korcari Wilds is not for the weak or feint of heart. Kiora learned how to survive in the dangerous marshes and dense woodlands from her tribesmen as well as from her own experience - enduring many hard lessons and earning scars in doing so.

Herbalism - As the daughter of a shamaness Kiora was taught how to make medical potions and ointments to treat many varied ailments. A skill that has come in handy enough over the years.

Devour - In battle Kiora is a true bane to face, driven by her Chasind warrior pride and the inner barbarity that can be summoned forth as a Reaver bring out an insatiable bloodlust in her. As Kiora fells opponents and becomes drenched in their blood and hung with their entrails she find her zeal and vitality greaten. Pain is not quite as severe and her arms seem to never tire as she swings her weapons driven only by the desire to spill more blood.

Dual Wielding - Kiora was trained in dual weapons fighting as part of her tutelage, while she prefers a greatsword she can hold her own with a weapon in each hand.

Indomitable - As a seasoned and hardy warrior Kiora is able to maintain impressive composure on the battlefield, resilient against most any attempt to stun or fell her.

Reaving Storm - When Kiora’s bloodlust becomes overwhelming she will experience a surge in strength and stamina and will at the behest of her fury begin to make wild cleaving swings across the battlefield at the cost however of great exhaustion when her rage leaves her.

Kiora was born in the Korcari Wilds to the Dark Tongues, a particularly aggressive and infamous Chasind tribe that has been traced all the way back to the Exalted Age - even if by sparse and questionable accounts. The Dark Tongues were known for their ties to the Avvar and for the many blood mages numbered among their elders over the generations. Kiora’s father was a Reaver and one of the Dark Tongue’s elite warrior caste, her mother a shamaness who was a healer and one of the spiritual guides for the tribe. Kiora had a younger brother, however he was stillborn and Kiora’s parents did not attempt to have any more children after the loss of their son.

Kiora was but a child when the Blight reared its insidious head and ravaged the land. She lost her father in the Dark Tongues’ last battle against the darkspawn. Thankfully her mother, uncle, and other members of the Dark Tongues would survive to see the end of the Blight. In the years to come Kiora made few friends, focusing on her training as a warrior. After her mothers’ death in 9:41 Dragon Kiora became a distant soul, her only real relations being the handful of Dark Tongue warriors she had come to call her comrades. After their deaths as well (9:49 Dragon) Kiora became all but totally closed off to others and has made no friends or close allies among her new order, the Grey Wardens. The only close relation she has left is her uncle who dwells in the Korcari Wilds with the straggling remnants of the Dark Tongues.

Reckless In Battle - Kiora, while a valuable ally to have, is what one can call a wild card when met with intense adversity. Her training and experience as well as her abilities as a Reaver make her invaluable against overwhelming odds and powerful foes. However, she fights with little calculation and the longer an engagement endures the more likely she is to give in to the savage calling of the wyvern blood and fly into a violent frenzy - putting allies at risk should she truly lose control.

Aloof - Kiora’s people, the Dark Tongues, are by nature a distant and hard-nosed folk. Add to this no longer having either of her parents, witnessing the deaths of the closest of her battle companions, and the harsh reality that she is among the last of her dwindling kin - Kiora keeps those she meets at a distance and seems to live only for killing and the heat of battle. She is of little to no use in any sort of social or diplomatic scene and makes for a poor voice of reason or calming.

As a child Kiora was what one could call determined and spirited. After the loss of her father and witnessing the terrors of the Fifth Blight she would grow into a rather inured young woman. The memories of the darkspawn as well as the harsh ways and violent tendencies of the Dark Tongues would shape Kiora into a distant and arbitrary person. Though she would become notably close to the other youth she trained and grew up with and the love she bore for her mother and uncle retained some flickers of tenderness within her soul even if she seemed coldly austere.

After partaking of the wyvern’s blood to become a Reaver, Kiora would inevitably become more prone to mood swings and angry outbursts when agitated and in battle she would show greater ferocity and would come to cast aside any concepts of mercy for a foe. The death of her mother would of course harden her further and the unfortunate slaughter of her battle-kin by the darkspawn years later would cast further dark shadows within the depths of the Chasind woman.

Those who know Kiora now, as an adult, a seasoned warrior, and a Reaver would describe her as “brooding, hollow, and fierce but also loyal to those she fights by and unwavering in the face of danger”. Kiora is not heartlessly sadistic by any means but she warrants no quarter for those who stand against or in her way and will stand no threat or offense to her person. She is very utilitarian and oft judges based upon material worth and advantages gained. Within her, though wholly unbeknownst to her, there are wisps of consideration and courtesy, traces of a person that could have been and might be. Suppressed within by a severe way of life and a fractured past.

Kiora was born in 9:22 Dragon, the daughter of a Chasind Dark Tongues warrior and a shamaness of the tribe. With her younger brother being stillborn and Kiora’s parents not attempting at having anymore children she was raised an only child. Her parents reared her well and even as a young girl she showed an adventurousness and a keen mind and was looked up to by other children. The elders expected her to be a fine member of the tribe when she came of age.

In 9:30 Dragon, when the Fifth Blight was unleashed on Thedas, it was the Korcari Wilds that first suffered the darkspawn horde. When word reached the Dark Tongues of a darkspawn army approaching they assumed it to just be a well-organized darkspawn raid. While other Chasind began to migrate or seek refuge the Dark Tongues mustered their strength and rallied their allies, eager for a chance at fighting the tainted ones and also earning the respect of surrounding tribes and furthering their own prestige. Unfortunately, the reality of things was far worse and despite early petty victories against the darkspawn advancing units the Dark Tongues were ultimately far too heavily outnumbered and outmatched by their foe. Three separate battles would be fought against the main darkspawn advance, all three would be crushing defeats for the Dark Tongues - the last battle taking place in the heart of their territory and most of the tribe were butchered or abducted after the loss. Kiora’s own father was killed in the third battle and she, her mother, and her uncle would just barely escape with handfuls of Dark Tongues survivors.

The Dark Tongues took up refuge in the southernmost reach of the Frostback Mountains, just north of the Uncharted Territories, throughout the course of the Blight. For the next year Kiora and what remained of her people would hide away in the frozen woodlands, hunting and foraging to survive and occasionally clashing with wandering Avvar bands. While the Dark Tongues suffered few deaths during this time they also had few numbers and by the end of the Fifth Blight their tribe was near extinct. All their Reaver warriors were dead as were many of their mage-bloods and elders - the majority of the surviving Dark Tongues being women and children.

After the end of the Fifth Blight the Dark Tongues would return eastward back to the Korcari Wilds. Many other Chasind tribes had been wiped out or scattered and yet others, namely those that had fled from the Blight early on, also would return. Some now boasting a power not held before as their rival tribes had been eradicated and they sought to further their own standing leading to conflict between Chasind groups. The Dark Tongues would ally themselves with a handful of other smaller tribes forming a coalition of their own and for the next decade would be embroiled in petty tribal feuds and politics to survive. During this time Kiora was being raised by her mother and uncle and undergoing her training.

At the age of eighteen (9:40 Dragon) Kiora and the chosen of the next generation of Dark Tongues would undergo their trial to become Reavers, the most fearsome and elite warriors of their people. The young warriors ventured out and embarked upon a great wyvern hunt. The hunt would last for weeks and in the end with only two deaths among their number Kiora and the others returned triumphant, hauling back with them the forms of slain wyverns and the blood necessary to undergo the transformation into a Reaver. The transformation ceremony was grandiose and a moment of inspiration for the Dark Tongues ; they had faced annihilation, the destruction of their clan and the eradication of their heritage and culture, but they had endured and now a new host of warriors stood to lead them into the future. Kiora was overwhelmed with pride at becoming a Reaver as her father had been and much of her mind was lended towards endless ambitious thoughts. Unfortunately she and her tribe would be dealt a devastating blow the following year.

In 9:41 several ranking Dark Tongues - including Kiora, her mother, and her uncle - were meeting with another tribal coalition just east of Fallow Mire when they were ambushed by a bevy of demons, brought forth by one of the many fade rifts plaguing the region in the midst of the breach crisis. Many Chasind were killed and at the climax of the fighting Kiora’s mother was gravely wounded by a monstrous demon. The Reavers fought and bought time for the other Chasind to escape before fleeing themselves. Kiora’s mother died that night at the Dark Tongues camp, succumbing to her wounds. While overcome with grief Kiora maintained her composure, if just barely, and with her kin sought to stave off the demons and survive what many were calling the end of the world. Throughout the year the Dark Tongues and their allies stood against the demons, suffering great losses in their struggle. By the time the Inquisition forces had defeated the Tevinter creature Corypheus and mended the breach and rifts the Dark Tongues had endured heavy casualty and corruption among their tribe. Once again they stood on the cusp on extinction.

Over the next eight years the Dark Tongues would be caught in yet another endeavor of survival, feuding with other Chasind while cultivating alliances and struggling to retain control of their land from interloping tribes and Fereldens alike. Kiora would face many would-be usurpers and enemy warriors in the name of her people, as Reavers she and her kin would prove to be terrifying opponents and despite the dwindling numbers of the tribe they maintained their reputation as unparalleled fighters and undesirable enemies to have. Kiora was quickly becoming one of the finest warriors of her people and her name was on the lips of many Chasind in the south. This of course lead to a surge in her pride and it was this pride that would prove her undoing.

In 9:49 Dragon a darkspawn cohort had journeyed up from underground into the marshes and were ravaging Chasind villages and outposts. Eager to face the old enemy of her tribe and avenge her father Kiora lead the bulk of the Dark Tongues’ Reavers in a search for the fiends and soon tracked them to a hillside cave system. The darkspawn were few in number but proved vicious when cornered. The fighting carried well through the night as the Chasind and darkspawn skirmished in the caves in a bloody melee. As the last hurlock fell dead only Kiora and three other Reavers remained alive. Dawn had come and as the four left the caves behind exhaustion took over as well as illness. They had been stricken with the darkspawn taint and collapsed halfway back to their encampment.

Kiora would awake hours later, staring into unfamiliar faces and finding herself restrained. She and her kin had been found by Grey Wardens who apparently had been pursuing the darkspawn the Chasind had slain. However, Kiora was given the grim news that the others had succumbed to the taint and died as would she soon enough. The Wardens gave her the choice of a quick death or to undergo the joining and become a Grey Warden. In the end Kiora chose the joining - driven by a desire to avenge her fallen companions as well as all her people. The darkspawn had brought her tribe to ruination and she intended to seek bloody vengeance against their kind. Kiora also realized that her pride - her arrogance - had cost many their lives, and to serve as a Grey Warden and fight the darkspawn would also serve as a humbling penance for what she had done. Kiora left her people behind and accompanied the Grey Wardens to begin her new life and duty - her mind and heart brimming with uncertainty and bitterness even as she holds her chin high.

Kodran Kveldulfsson

26

Human

Male

Mage/Spirt Healer

Kodran at 5'10 with fair skin and brown eyes. He has red hair that goes to the bottom of his neck and a clean-shaved face. However, at times, he may let his facial hair grow out before shaving it all off. While not an obvious-looking Avvar, outside of his people's clothing and with no body or face paint or clear markings. Usually, he wears an Avvar attire that leaves his torso and arms bare while wearing a full pair of leather pants with a belt, revealing an above-average build. But with a fur collar and leather shoulder cloth that covers his shoulder and his upper back. However, Kodran is willing to wear appropriate clothing or armor when needed.

Kodran carries himself like a man with a purpose. Though there is a desire to learn in his eyes, and at times, he acts like a modern scholar despite being brought up as what most would consider a primitive culture. He is always with his Avvar staff and wears a necklace of Chasind origin that belongs to his lover. He does not like to talk about how he got it, only that she is dead.

Magic Staff - An Avvar metal staff that bears the markings of his home clan, the Iron-Wolf clan. With the head of a wolf at one end and a blade at the other end and it can be used as a melee weapon if needed.

Grey Warden Mage Attire - A set of mage clothes that bear Grey Warden's colors and sigil. He was given these upon joining the Wardens and wears them when needed.

Chasind Necklace - a Chasind Necklace that used to belong to Kodran's lover and is rarely seen without it.

Avvar Knife - A knife that Kodran uses mainly for survival purposes but can be used as a backup melee weapon if needed.

Herbalism - Being the son of his clan's augur and a mage. Kodran was taught how to make potions to cure ailments and diseases.

Survival Skills - Having been raised in the inhospitable Frostback Mountains, Kodran knows how to survive in situations where most could not.

Spirit Lore - As an Avvar mage, Kodran is very knowledgeable about spirits and, more so, how to both please and remove one from a person's body.

Staff Combat - Kodran has been trained on how use his staff as a melee weapons and is effective in using it.

Knife Combat - Kodran has been taught how to use a knife in combat, even if he rarely uses it.

Heal - Kodran heals a single target with his magic, restoring a medium amount of health and healing wounds.

Lifeward - Kodran places a protective ward on a person that restores health once that person is near death.

Revival - Kodran revives someone who has fallen unconscious and restores a bit of health.

Blizzard - Kodran summons a freezing blizzard to harm and freeze a group of enemies in a desired location.

Kodran hails from the Frostback Mountains, a mountain range in Southern Thedas that, while to many is considered inhospitable, his people, the Avvar, thrive. He was born into the Iron-Wolf Hold of the Iron-Wolf Clan, the first child out of four. While his father was a humble hunter, his mother was a mage and the clan's augur or the spiritual leader of the clan. As a mage and the son of the clan's augur, his mother wanted him to succeed her and would train him as her apprentice. However, after the death of his lover Aelid, Kodran realized that his newfound goals made it impossible for him to be an augur. Disappointing his mother, and so he left his home after saying goodbye to his family and embarked on his new goal in life.

Tribal Man - At his heart, Kodran is an Avvar, and that means customs and practices that seem normal to him. Are foreign or downright dangerous to others. In particular, the Avvar practice of allowing spirits to possess their mages in order to learn how to use their magic and for other uses. This has made Kodran hesitant to talk to people or talk about his knowledge of spirits openly, over fear, and he often keeps to himself.

Kodran can be described as a friendly and patient person despite somewhat showing it since the death of his lover and joining up with the Grey Wardens. He knows that his people's ways are not always accepted outside of the Frostback Mountains, and thus, he tends to keep to himself and does not speak of his people's ways while with company. Especially with those outside of the order, like templars for example. Still, Kodran has a curiosity in him since he was a child that never went away and loves to learn more about the world when he can.

He is committed to the Grey Wardens and is a driven person who seeks a way to both cure the blight and purify the lands it corrupted. This is his personal mission, and he is not afraid to do what must be done to do so. Even then, he still finds ways to relax and spend time with people he can call friends. Once he considers someone a friend, Kodran is loyal to them, but if this trust is broken, then it is hard to regain it.

Along with having a good bedside manner when using his magic to heal those in need. Which Kodran finds it hard to give up on a patient, but if the patient is too far gone, then he will try to make it as painless as possible to comfort their final moments. Even in one case, mercy killing them, but it is an action he will only do if there are literally no other options and death is better than living. He has only done it once, but that one time changed him, and he prays to the gods that he never has to do it again. So he will do what it takes to save a patient and not have to resort to mercy killing.

Kodran was only a child when the Fifth Blight started in the Korcari Wilds. While his clan, the Iron-Wolf clan, managed to stay out of it. It did not stop Chasind refugees from coming to the hold, and the thane of the clan allowed the refugees to enter and live in the hold for a time. It was during this time that Kodran made a friend with one of the Chasind, a young girl named Aelid. After the Fifth Blight was defeated and the Chasind returned to the Korcari Wilds, Kodran and Aelid made a promise they would see each other again.

Kodran was ten when he showed the ability to use magic and was trained by his mother, the clan's augur, as her apprentice. After going through the various rituals, he was briefly possessed by a friendly spirit. Kodran, like his mother, chose to be a spirit healer and use the power of spirits to heal both fresh and bone. Something that his mother approved of greatly and would become one of the clan's healers.

When he was eighteen, Chasind traders came to his hold, and Kodran was surprised to see Aelid among them. Now, having fulfilled their promise years ago, the two talked and talked with each other, and it was then that Kodran chose to see Aelid's home village after getting his family's permission.

This was when Kodran while touring the village, learned more about the village and the darkspawn taint from Aelid. As her original village had to be abandoned once, it was clear that the land was blighted, and they had to move to a new site. Kodran was too young to really understand the threat of the darkspawn and the taint during the Fifth Blight as his clan was out of the way from the darkspawn. But, as he asked more about it, Kodran convinced Aelid to show him her old village. This was a wake up call for him as he saw how lifeless and barren the land was, how it is impossible to purify the land or cure those infected with the taint. Twisting those it infects into monsters before killing them. It was something that stuck with Kodran, and after, he returned to his hold. Did his curiosity lead him to start researching the taint, asking questions to the spirits and even getting some Orlesian books on the subject.

This would go on until a year ago when he was visiting Aelid and was planning on making her his wife, when a cohort of darkspawn came up from the underground and started attacking Chasind villages. Aelid's village was one of them, and in a failed attempt to defend the village. Kodran barely managed to escape while carrying a severely wounded Aelid. To his horror, when he was healing her wounds it was clear that Aelid had contacted the darkspawn taint. Aelid begged Kodran to kill her for she did not want to become a ghoul, and since there was nothing he could do to save her, and with a tearful face. Kodran mercifully killed Aelid and returned home a changed man.

Now, Kodran had a new goal in life, finding a cure to the taint and to purify the lands lost to it. So he left his hold after saying goodbye to his family and headed to Anderfel to join up with the main organization that deals with darkspawn, the Grey Wardens, and is willing to do what is needed to ensure a better tomorrow.

Shiathari

32

Elf

Female

Rogue | Ranger

Like most of her kind, Shia is short next to a human and tall next to a dwarf. She is slim and lithe, but with a surprising layer of firm muscle from years of manual labor and then hard training. She’s scarred, less than many, more than some. The healed wounds were inevitable even before joining the Wardens. While it’s not the most practical, she has been resistant to cutting her long, dark brown hair. A sentimentality to it that she can’t explain, but she opts to braid and twist into flat buns to fit beneath a helmet.

There is a harshness to her, even when she smiles. Some mistake it for haughtiness and even at rest, a gaze from her light brown eyes feels full of judgement. Shia carries herself with a lightness in her movements, nearly a dance, and her footsteps quiet as a mouse. She has jump-scared more than one hulking warrior in her time with the Wardens.

N/A

Shia’s family originally hails from Tevinter, her mother an escaped slave that made it to Hasmal with her three young children. Their father was never spoken of, but Shia assumes he remained in Tevinter for reasons either sad or enraging. Her mother was a mage of weak talent, not useful to her masters beyond menial tasks. In Hasmal, it became apparent that the eldest child, Shia’s brother, was a mage and so he was sent to the Kirkwall Circle. After that, Shia, her mother, and her sister, made their way east before finally settling in the backwaters of Ansburg. Shia’s mother passed away a few years later, and the sister ran away to “find her people.” Shia has not heard from sister nor brother in many, many years.

Shia has never felt at home anywhere, a fact that her extended time at Weisshaupt has not completely inverted. Still, her restlessness and lack of anchor to any one place has not made her resentful of company, comradery, or companionship. Once others see past the harshness and occasional indifference, they find a woman who does know how to laugh and enjoy the fleeting good times.

While she does not distrust all humans as a whole, her views on any Tevinters is heavily jaded. The Dalish confound her more than anything else, and other “city” elves often had a much harder life than her. Magic does worry her, even though she left Tevinter with barely any memories of it, what she does remember was awful. Her time in the Free Marches only seemed to show her what a lack of overt magic could offer, and certainly for her, that was a better life, for the most part. While she often feels like she doesn’t quite fit in to any group, she has found something nearing family with the Wardens - warts and all, if the stories she had heard had any hint of truth to them.

The one thing that she cannot tolerate for any length of time is a religious zealot. Shia loudly, and sometimes obnoxiously, is vehemently an unbeliever in any god or gods. The Maker? Pah. Andraste? She seemed like a good woman, a shame the religion grew and flourished as it did. The Dalish pantheon of gods? Clearly useless. The old gods? Humans would invent anything to justify their atrocities. Ancestor worship and holy stone? Shia finds it less outrageous but will still roll her eyes at a dwarf going on about it. The Blight, darkspawn, and archdemons? Well, Shia knows the darkspawn are real and that they’re lead by something, but that doesn’t mean it’s an old god waking to wreak destruction. Some things are just evil without any greater meaning behind it.

The elven rogue retains a soft spot for animals of almost any kind. It has not been uncommon for her commander to find her asleep in her griffin’s stall. She’s been known to capture and relocate creepy crawlies from tents, and tends a small menagerie of injured critters in her room.

Shia was born in Tevinter, her mother a slave to a minor magister of Perivantium. She was the youngest of three children, and has few memories of what life was like in Tevinter other than stories from her mother and older siblings. Shia’s mother fled with them to when Shia was barely six years old. They arrived in Hasmal, a common destination for escaped slaves and refugees, in 9:25 DA. But their time there was not easy or peaceful.

Shia’s mother had been gifted with a weak ability for magic. Small enough that she was able to easily hide it and did not miss using it beyond small acts as a village healer. Her only son, Shia’s eldest sibling, though, began to show signs less than a year after arriving in Hasmal. He was quickly found out and Templars removed him swiftly to take to the Kirkwall Circle. The family, now Shia, her mother, and elder sister, chose to move on from Hasmal lest they draw more attention to themselves.

Eventually they settled in Ansburg, the backwater Free City that few had reason to linger in or seek out, a bustling city for agricultural trade but little else. Eleven years old now, her sister fourteen, the girls helped their mother as she settled into the role of village healer and potion-maker. Shia would spend her days in the wilderness outside of the city, collecting herbs, foraging, and hunting. Sometimes she’d spend her nights out there too, to enjoy a life away from the crowds and smells of a city, even one like Ansburg.

They remained largely unbothered, outside of the expected prejudices and treatment. The semi-peaceful life ended when Shia’s mother unexpectedly died a few years later in 9:33. She grew ill, and no matter that she had helped so many, the aid was not returned. She wasted away in a painful death. A few days after she was laid to rest, Shia’s sister ran away. She had left a note explaining that living among the shemlen would kill them all, that she had gone to find their “real” people. Shia knew a Dalish clan had gone by recently, her sister had begged that they join them together but Shia had refused. What were they to these nomads?

She was alone now though, only fifteen. Her time spent in the forests had trained her for something she had never thought would be useful. She signed on with a small group that offered trade caravans protection into and out of the city. She was decent with a bow, better with setting traps, and unafraid of having to get in close. Shia also proved to have a way with animals. She tamed a large wolf to accompany her on her longer journeys and would stay with her in the forests around Ansburg.

Eventually she had made a bit of a name for herself within the city. In some ways this was literal, when the name “the snake” stuck, for her ability to get in and out of places nearly unseen and unheard. She had an uncanny ability of being able to ambush her ambushers as well. With notoriety came its own set of problems. Not everyone cared for an elf making such strides for herself. And the elves of the city did not care for her lack of interest in furthering their own causes.

Still, it all gave her an opportunity to grow a good safety net of coin for herself. As that net grew, she formed plans for going somewhere else. And then the damn world fell apart, again.

When news had originally arrived of the troubles in Kirkwall, Shia had wanted to go there, to find her brother. But she hadn’t heard from him since their mother died. A letter had arrived very delayed, a few small sentiments scrawled in shaky handwriting. Her return letters had gone unanswered, she assumed he died in the chaos. News from the south never seemed to bring anything good with it.

In 9:40, as she was again preparing to leave Ansburg due to some unfortunate disagreements with local guild leaders. She had been coming back to her city after completing an escort to Wycome and was nearly home when sounds of a scuffle caught her attention. Though she nearly convinced herself it wasn’t her problem, she instead snuck towards the sound. Though she had never seen one in person, she immediately recognized a small group of Grey Wardens facing off against one of the gangs that plagued Ansburg. In smaller numbers, she was certain the Wardens would not have needed aid. But one was already down and the remaining two seemed to have been at it for some time. Shia joined their fight from the outskirts, setting their cart ablaze and then picking one off with her bow before charging in with daggers. The distraction was enough that the Wardens were able to recover and dispatch the remaining attackers.

She had not planned to join them beyond traveling with them back to Ansburg for supplies. As she traveled the last two days with them though, the leader of the group asked if she would consider it. Shia was caught off guard, but though she had made something for herself in her corner of the Free Marches, there were no guarantees. When the trio were done restocking in Ansburg, Shia was waiting for them, her meager belongings tied in a pack, a wild dog at her side.

Her joining did not take place for nearly a year as they traveled west, back to Hasmal, to the border of Tevinter. The wardens had found three other recruits along the way, another elf, and two humans. The four of them went through the ritual together. Shia survived it as well as one of the humans. It was 9:41 and the news that the group of now five Grey Wardens received in their travels gave them pause. They had originally intended to go south but instead set off through Nevarra and towards the Anderfels.

It was not a direct path, there was no reason for them to return to Weisshaupt directly, and it provided ample training for the two new recruits. But it still was not an easy time. One of the senior recruits disappeared one night, only leaving behind a note that it was her time. The other eventually broke away to head south with reasons left unexplained to the new wardens, but it was clear to Shia that the remaining senior warden was uneasy about it.

The trio carried on, though the refugees they encountered along the way carried with them horrific and mostly unbelievable stories from elsewhere. They avoided direct involvement, busying themselves with small excursions along the borders of Nevarra, Orlais, and Tevinter. When word finally reached them towards the end of 9:45 to return to Weisshaupt, Shia was more than ready to see what the Warden fortress was like with her own eyes - even if the stories about what the Orlesian Wardens had done gave her pause.

Her natural talent for animals made her an immediate choice to work with the griffins, though her designation as a scout has meant she has not formally bonded one herself. She helps the warriors who have been bonded and is a keeper for hatchlings and young ones until they can be bonded. She’s also participated in smaller excursions outside of Weisshaupt from time to time. Until recently, when she was selected to accompany the expedition into the deep roads.

Rannon Bryce

27

Human, Ferelden

Male

Warrior

Rannon stands tall and solidly built, with earthy brown hair, long enough to be tied at the base of his neck. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face now only echoes his youthful appearance, battles and years having roughed him into the look of a mature, even veteran soldier. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Two Handed Sword: In many ways it mirrors its wielder. Sharp, powerful, but bloodstained and notched from use.
Long Knife: He wears in his right boot.
Necklace of beads: Green and woven meticulously by his late mother.

Non-combat abilities, such as picking locks, sneaking, or making potions, even making a decent meal. Rogues get a choice of four, mages and warriors get three to reflect the focuses they put in.

Rannon has a father, and two siblings back home in Ferelden.

Stubborn: When he gets an idea, he's single minded like a hound.
Drink: He has a hard time not diving into the bottle, especially when there's no battle to be had. He tries to eschew drinks in general, but if he gets a sip...
Trauma: Losing all your friends and mother to monsters will do that to you.

Rannon seems to be the epitome of the Ferelden ideal. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his loyalty to those he deems worthy. He has a deep seated national pride and sees the world as Ferelden does, taking others and judging them by their deeds rather than their blood. Years in the army and surviving pivotal battles have tempered his recklessness, but never fully. Learning the sword and how to work within ranks of his fellows showed him how to pick his movements and his battles, though he always seems to be ready for another scrap. That is to say, he will never fight for the sake of fighting and appreciates the quiet when he can salvage some. Only that he feels the world is forever dangerous, and won't be made soft or be fooled by the years of relative peace that have settled over the land. He's pragmatic and won't hesitate to use the landscape or offhanded strikes to defeat an opponent, though if he is openly challenged he will honor it and see it to the end. He often likes thinking of what ifs and battle scenarios as he travels the. The warrior tends to be very self critical of himself and his decisions, and he takes the actions he makes very seriously.

Rannon respects Dwarves, the tales of quarreling Nobles in Orzammar not registering to him from the above-ground fighters he has seen. Oddly enough, he does not blame mages for who they are or what they practice, though he is still very wary around them. Templars he's on the fence, for while they do a valuable service in protecting civilization from rampant magic, they're still oppressors. He has a special distrust for the Orlesians and the Tevinter Imperium. Quanari he is iffy on, but takes it in stride if they are his companions. Elves are a mystery to him, never knowing if they are trustworthy and simply wish independence like his fellow Fereldans, or if they truly are the cause of the Brecilian Forest's cursed nature. He has an intense respect for Ash warriors and canines, thinking himself far from good enough for his hound's attention. He's always dreamed of joining the Grey Wardens, but never sought them out.

Rannon was born under the Arl of Southreach, in the village of Ironbrook. He was born only 8 days before the holiday Funalis. His father worked as a craftsman of leather, and his mother grew wild herbs for medicinal purposes just outside the village, though always in sight of the walls. He was the oldest of three, all boys. His brothers were Edmund (2 years younger) and Wilfrid (4 years younger), and he was often charged with keeping them safe and out of trouble, though he played the role of protector more often than his parents believed. He would get into fights and chases with other boys around his age over his brother's wild nature and sometimes even his own. He didn't mind though, and grew to see it as a competition he could always get better in. It was further driven home with his father, for he'd share tales of the Alamarri driving back to Tevinter Imperium to Rannon if he did a fine job helping with his father's shop that day. He was drawn in, and pride for his nation and his town bloomed within his heart. The fact that his village bordered the cursed wilds furthered that line of thinking.

When he came of age, he went off to serve as a Soldier for the Arl. His tendency to swing first and ask questions later was partially beaten out of him from his Knight trainer, Arlun. He even attempted to fight the Knight at one point, which led to a nasty welt on his forehead from his sword hilt. Among the soldiers, jests were sometimes made at Leonas Bryland for his half Orlesian ancestry, but it was just that, a jest. They never questioned their Arl or his loyalty, all knowing full well that he followed Prince Maric in the Fereldan Rebellion. Rannon acquired some companions of his own, a few of the fellow trainees, Aart, Gavin, Leopuld, and Rochen. Many times they would joke at each others expense and talk the night away until wearied limbs and bruised muscles dragged them into slumber. He was then allowed to go home when he reached 21, provided he would return for service if called. He traveled back to Ironbrook and worked for his father, making saddles and leather coats, even learning how to ride a horse a bit from a particular favor he gave for a free saddle.

He was called though, nearing his 23th birthday. A large incursion of Darkspawn, the largest since the Fifth blight, had come once again to the Kokari Wilds. Rannon went straight into Arl Bryland's ranks, joining with his friends and then being initiated into the King's ranks. The calm before the storm was almost too much for many soldiers among the shadowed trees of the wilds. Darkspawn being monsters from legend and their camp being at the cusp of those haunted woods was a new thing to many commoners. To Rannon it was no different than dealing with rumors of monsters from the Brecilian, and he marveled more at the Ash Warriors and their magnificent Mabaris that had come. Still, he could feel the his mettle rising with each day, until that fateful night at the Battle of the Hinterland Ford. The King's strategy seemed almost flawless, the way the horde advanced in such a mindless charge. But even watching the monsters themselves was almost too much for him, and he didn't think he could find the strength to swing his sword.

That is, until the battle commenced. His fear left him, finding when the blood began to shed, one was too busy to think of fear. He hacked and stabbed, carving through a small number of darkspawn and hoping the blood in his mouth was his own. Sweat and grime was rampant, and the shrieks were almost deafening. He did not know how long the battle lasted or how much he fought, but eventually he found himself one amid a mere few hundred scattered soldiers against the darkspawn ranks. He heard the horns, and knew the battle would turn with the reinforcements set in motion. But as they fought on, it dawned on him as it did on every soldier. No one was coming. He wiped the blood from the cut across his chin, and as his vision unblurred he saw a open-eyed Gavin being stabbed repeatedly, his friend's body already cold as three darkspawn made sport of his corpse. He steeled himself and ran forward, Leopuld and Rochen with him. He didn't know where Aart was, and he would never find out. Rochen fell with a split skull, trying to avenge Gavin. Leopuld and Rannon were the only one's left standing, until more monsters charged in. They backpedaled, their swords leading to fend off the cruel blades of their enemies and swiftly counter attack with fierce thrusts, working in practiced concert. They began to retreat in full, until Leopuld was struck in the hip with an arrow. He fell, and Rannon stopped, reaching down to help him up.

"You have to go!" Leopuld told him, and Rannon looked between him and the advancing terrors. His friend saw the look in Rannon's eye. Again Leopuld told him to run, but Rannon almost charged. He would have charged.
He should have charged...

He fled, using his long legs and making his way across the ford and into the Hinterlands proper, knowing the only way he could survive was if the darkspawn played with the corpses of his friends. And the fact that he lived to tell the tale was testament to that. Still he heard their shrieks, and tumbled out of the soft woodlands towards the lakes, making his way into parts he had never been. By morning he found himself in a small path made by passing beasts, stopping his march by stamping his boot in the ground and hitting a tree with his shoulder, stubbornly. It took him a moment to realize he was being watched, and he turned to regard a young Mabari warhound staring at him not seven paces away. He held his sword before him, until he realized just how stupid he was. If this Mabari saw fit to kill him, why should he stop it? He planted his blade into the ground and slunk down. Instead the beast approached and sat, mirroring him. It panted and looked at him, and Rannon asked what it was doing here. It popped up and jumped from side to side, the dog spry and full of youth. It then dawned on the soldier, and he shook his head as his heart quivered. How could he lose all of his friends in one night, and receive the companionship of this noble canine the next? What world did he live in?

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and since all laughter had been ripped out of him the night before, he fell to the ground and wept. Why would this dog think him good enough? He had run. Dirt and tears stained his face, and when he lifted his head he half expected the canine to be gone. But it sat there, expectantly.

Rannon grabbed a hold of his new friend's shoulder muscles and hauled himself up. They traveled northward together, the Mabari hunting for their food and Rannon following the streams for water. Rannon named him Gideon, fit for the warrior he knew his new friend to be. But still, he felt unworthy for such a comrade. He would have liked to think it was his family's sake that kept him going, to go and warn them. But it was his hatred of the darkspawn that drove him. Eventually he found his way into the heart of the Hinterlands, linking up with a contingent of soldiers coming to repel the advancing horde of monsters. Rannon linked up with them, and they took him without question with the Mabari at his side. Linking up with the King's own personal guard, the united forces flowed into woodlands just outside of the wilds and cut into the remaining darkspawn army like a knife through cake. Rannon got drunk on the bloodletting in that battle, but by chance a spray of arterial blood entered his mouth, and he collapsed before the combat was over, convulsing.

He woke up in camp, alive, and Gideon watching him expectantly. Somehow, he had consumed darkspawn blood and had lived. A week later, he made his way back to Ironbrook, and took his family further northwards in case of other darkspawn incursions. No one knew if a sixth blight was on the way, and the taxes in Ironbrook had increased exponentially to help feed the soldiers. Already, pandemonium had wracked Fereldan from inflation and attacks, and refugees poured forth through the roads, bandits running amok. Rannon and his father thought it smart to travel near the brink of the Brecilian, and for awhile it was a sound idea. Until the third night, when Rannon lost his mother. He had set his own watch, his hound watching the tail end of the small encampment when he heard it. It was an eerie, ominous moan that seeped into the camp. But it sounded like it was made by a lost woman, not a hungry beast, and that was itself unnerving. The wind began to shift, and the moan grew louder pitch by pitch, a very mortal chill running up Rannon's spine. His brothers had awoken, but his parents at the north western edge had not seemed to have heard anything. And then a terrible rip was heard, followed by the scream of their mother, until her voice was torn away as if she had never been. His father would later say she was simply pulled out of the tent by something he couldn't see, but Rannon and his Mabari ran into the woods where she was last heard, confused as to where to even look. Seconds passed, and her scream was heard again to the east, but faint, as if she had been taken a great distance away by something as swift as a hawk.

He made his way towards the noise, despite the dark canopy and underbrush that held a thousand potential horrors, despite him tripping over gnarled roots and jutting rocks. He wouldn't flee again. Not now!

All he found was a torn piece of cloth from her nightshirt, covered in warm blood not a mile away. Even Gideon had lost the scent, and it was the longest night of Rannon's life. Another month later, he defended his father and brothers against bandits on the road to Denerim, being hit in the shoulder by an arrow and receiving the slicing scar below his left eye from a knife. Their mother had taught Wilfrid, the youngest, how to treat battle wounds, and he did the best he could. However the shoulder still aches in the mornings to this day. The rest of the family, save Rannon, believed sailing to the free marches was the best thing to do. He joined his family for two years in Starkhaven, meeting new people and getting a feel for other cultures. Before long however, he found himself slowly getting more and more drunk, more and more frequently, with women he couldn't recall the names of. It wasn't a fit thing to be, and Gideon seemed to think so too, head butting him one morning hard enough for him to lose his dinner on the street. He realized he needed to shape up, and he'd been sober for 6 months, acting as a city guard, until he heard of a better offer at the docks...

He had been in the Anderfells for a couple of years, at this point, and both he and Gideon had seen skirmishes together under the banner of the Grey Wardens.

Tae'ren Fen'an

19

Dalish Elf

Male

Mage/Shapeshifter

A short young man, even by Elven standards, Tae at first glance is the typical Dalish. Handmade yet well cared for and practical leather and cloth armor, a common lack of true footwear and a constant sneer or more commonly in Tae's case, a tired neutral expression. Tae'ren however, as would any individual of any background, has his own intricacies that show on his person. Though constantly giving off the appearance of bored indifference or sheer exhaustion, he is always present and alert... far more-so than would otherwise be implied. Besides his armor, his scraggly long brown hair hangs just below his chin, often hiding at least one of his crimson eyes from view. At first glance unassuming, but the more one looks, the more they get glances at the storm whirling beneath the surface.

As a mage, and a dalish no less, one might assume his staff to be of some intricate make, but is instead a long, smooth thing that becomes slightly more angular the lower you look upon it, that looks as if it just survived a direct lightning strike. Even his specialization hides upon his features. The leather of his coat allowing peeks of fur to appear between the cracks as if the entire thing was half finished and simply turned for the fur to face inward, the leather strips that make it up at a closer glance appear to hide feathers trapped between their woven shapes, every inch of his clothing seeming to carry some small fragment of an animal, be it bones, fur or feathers. A shapeshifter he is, and he carries with him fragments of the knowledge he had to learn about the animals whose shapes he takes.

Stricken Staff - A simple staff attuned to the element of electricity, and the main source of his magic when not shapeshifted.

Templar Medallion - A surprising trinket to be found on a mage, especially one of Dalish origin. He never elaborates on it, besides that it once belonged to a friend.

Double Flute - A handmade wooden instrument, the two tubes that make it up meet by the mouthpiece at an angle, giving the whole thing a very triangular appearance.

Tracking - From the hunting taught by the Dalish, to the more specialized training during his short time as his clan's first, and finally the more primal sense that came with his training as a shapeshifter, Tae'ren has become extremely proficient at tracking prey of all kinds, in many environments.

Musician - Though mostly done in his spare time, his takes great joy in his double flute and when not ambling about pretending he isn't keeping an eye on his surroundings, the eerie echo of his playing can often be heard.

Stealth - Often called out on his tendency to casually sneak up on people, Tae'ren has always been a quiet young man. Though this is not an uncommon trait for many people, the fact he is a Dalish, and a shapeshifting mage no less often compiles together to greatly unsettle those around him with the ease that he escapes sight unnoticed.

Combat Casting - Time spent at the forefront of combat has allowed Tae'ren to cast his spells with little chance of interruption from foes breathing down his neck. While many mages prefer to remain behind their sturdier comrades, Tae'ren plants himself firmly at the head of any scene, where his constant shapeshifting in and out can help sew just that little bit of chaos often needed in the middle of a fight, as well as throw a few more mundane and expected warding spells or bolts of lightning.

Staff Combat - Many people forget the simplest lessons, when facing Tae'ren? Sticks still hurt even though they're just sticks, and in the case of his staff? Being struck by an electrically charged stick is especially unfun. Tae'ren takes full advantage of the fact he carries his staff, and isn't afraid to crack a few skulls if people forget that sticks can still hurt like hell.

Shapeshift: Direwolf - Taking on the shape of a frighteningly large wolf, the function is fairly self explanatory. Any warrior can claim to be unafraid, but when a beast capable of easily cracking living bone with it's jaws faces them down, few remain laughing.

Shapeshift: Owl - Though less ferocious than his wolf shape, the shape of a bird has it's uses, especially if the moment calls for swift movement across a battle, or terrain not suited to ground travel. Though, in a pinch, the talons of an owl can often be just as frightening as the jaws of any ground-favoring beast.

Chain Lightning - A common enough combat spell, a bolt of lightning that arcs across the battlefield can seldom be called useless.

Barrier - As elementary as it is useful, the ability to cast defensive wards, especially around other people is one of the major reasons allied mages are even tolerated by the average warrior on the battlefield.

Born and raised wandering the forests of Thedas, Tae'ren left behind his clan with no small measure of sadness between them, though none could argue the meaning of his departure. The eldest of his siblings, and at the time, the First to his clan's Keeper... Tae'ren left behind his younger sister to fill his role as First, and though nearly ten years younger than him, he admires the strength she already shows in her studies and magic.

Dalish Prejudice - Shemlen... a word once used as a proper term for the human race, now turned to near slur status used as a slang by both Dalish and City elves to remind both eachother as well as the humans of the grudge they still hold for their stolen land and the fallen Dales... it shows in his speech, his face... Tae'ren has a clear dislike of humans that while he does not hide, he at least attempts to keep it from interfering with his work.

Quiet, often more willing to silently sit among the leaves and allow the world to pass by around him, Tae'ren has a clear love of nature, this love only exaggerated by the frequency of his shapeshifting. Not only limiting it to the combat capability it has, Tae'ren shapeshifts extremely often. At times it is difficult to catch him in his normal shape, but one may notice just how much more expressive he often is while taking on the shape of a beast. Though his dilike of humans and extremely minimal interaction with every other race leaves him more than a bit standoffish, Tae'ren is extremely protective of his comrades and tries surprisingly hard to get to know those around him. He often rubs the Templar Medallion around his neck, the trinket serving as a glorified worry stone that he never parts with. Although his outward appearance makes it difficult to imagine, Tae'ren is still a hopeful young man that wants to see the good in the world around him, even if his own prejudices often get in the way of that.

Even to the Dalish, Tae'ren and his clan took isolationism to the extreme. They haunted the edges of Thedas, and had for many many years. Those who know them claim that many fanciful and unsavory tales of the Dalish stem from survivors of an encounter with the violently xenophobic clan. Their practice of ancient shapeshifting magic, openly hostile treatment of humans and extreme isolationist nature lead to humans spreading many tales, from cannibalism to stealing babies in the night and transforming into monstrous shapes.

Tae'ren was first to his clan, though certainly not the only mage. He was followed by his sister, the clan's second. So rarely did they contact even the other clans that even among other Dalish rumors would spread of the isolated clan of Dalish who practiced shapeshifting magic that was so often associated with witches and the wilder parts of the world.

To Tae however, it was his family, and his magic? A connection to the world around him that few could replicate, even other mages. The avoidance of the events in Thedas was entirely purposeful, they had no interest in the petty religious squabbles of the the Circle of Magi and Templars, and neither did they care for the plight of the mages whom rebelled. All human troubles spanning from years of human action that could not be fixed so simply as through Elven interference and opinion.

They avoided the blights as well, having little real respect for the Wardens save for their martial prowess, seeing them as little more than yet another far reaching arm of Human interference seeking control through such a vile guise as 'cooperation' and 'the better good'. However, as the world calmed after The Rise of The Inquisition and all it accomplished, questions arose among the clan. They questioned all they thought they knew, and now, after decades of near complete separation they argued for intervention.

Tae'ren never fully waited for an answer, he left at the first mildly agreed upon suggestion, following rumor and news of the Grey Wardens until he found himself among them, pledging his aid in any way he could, even so far as to possibly share the magic of shapeshifting he had been taught, if any mages among the wardens showed the potential and willingness. Now Tae'ren waits for a proper assignment, having only been a Grey Warden for what was now almost a month.