OP
Fat Boy Kyle
Member
Seen
1 mo ago
OP
Fat Boy Kyle
Member
Seen
1 mo ago
(but with more of a beard and slightly shorter and messier hair)
Name: Krios Ar Tae O Darkhold
Race/Nationality: Avvar
Age: 39
Gender: Male
Class: Spirit Warrior
Personality:
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.
History:
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 witness 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 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 brothers 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 movement and bloodshed. To his horror he found a couple of darkspawn corpses and no trace of his brother save for his bow and quiver.
For days Krios, still heavily fatigued, desperately tracked the group of darkspawn down the mountains and into the Korcari Wilds. When he eventually caught up to them he was devasted 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. He was nearly killed when their emissary leader used magic to render Krios immobile but when the remaining darkspawn cloistered around him victoriously, Krios tapped into his newfound abilities and unleashed a fade burst that knocked all his enemies back and allowed him to finish them off. As luck would have it the newly appointed Grey Warden-Commander Duncan witnessed the end of this fight and decided to recruit him into the Wardens.
Since then he has spent some time in different places throughout Ferelden, but has mostly found himself either in Orzammar or with his clan. He acts as a southern eye to the Wardens and rather than meet up with his brothers he tends to relay messages through the Dwarves.
Weapons:
Two nearly identical Waraxes
His brother’s yew bow and quiver
Armour:
Wears a mix of studded leather armour and fur. He wears a massive hooded fur cloak over this. His axes sit holstered on his belt, his quiver on his thigh and his bow on his back (which is awkward to remove whilst wearing his cloak.
Skills:
Good survivalist able to track and hunt.
Very skilled fighter when using his axes and can use a sword nearly as well.
Can shoot a bow but not overly well (he prefers to use traps when hunting).
Good climber.
Has learnt moderate control over the four spirit warrior abilities, but is fatigued more as a result of using them.
He cannot swim.
(Theme song)
An Outsider A Glorious Failure
Member
Seen
1 yr ago
Faen stands at a respectable 6'1". He has a set of broad shoulders, with a lean and muscular build that is built for speed rather than raw strength.
Name:
Faen
Race/Nationality:
Ferelden
Age:
27
Gender:
Male
Class:
Assassin
Personality:
Faen, according to popular opinion, is a bastard in both name and deed. He displays a casual arrogance, believing himself to be superior to near everyone he meets. Cynicism colours his every deed and thought, an early life on the streets of Denerim leading him to believe that everyone is as self serving as he is. However these are just the sides of himself he presents to the outside world, a defence as it were. Inwardly Faen is a young man with high ideals, a person who wishes he could be the dashing hero, the type stories are told about, though his harsh upbringing makes him doubt such a person exists.
Faen believes a fair fight is one that he has already won before it has even started. Being called a coward for sticking a knife in an enemy's back is more favourable to him than being cut in half by a superior foe in an honourable fight.
He likes strong liquor, loose women, a good blade and the look in an opponents eye when they realise they are outclassed. He doesn’t like low paying jobs, vengeful husbands or cold nights.
History:
Faen was born to a two-penny Denerim whore and an unknown father. An inauspicious origin, but to his mind the mark of a story is hardly how it begins, but how it develops. His mother, realising that she could hardly afford to feed herself never mind a squealing babe, took him to the Chantry and dumped him at the foot of the Maker. Faen doesn’t know if it was a tearful parting, but sincerely doubt she spared him much thought.
The Mothers of the Chantry took pity on him, naming him Faen and raising the young infant out of their own pockets. As he grew older they set him to work, cleaning and scrubbing, all the while teaching him about the Chantry, lessons that did not sit well with the young lad. Secretly they began to wonder what to do with him, as they could not use him for odd jobs forever. Seeing that he was fit, healthy and above all strong for his age they decided to send him for Templar training. Unknown to the Sisters Faen had also learnt how to eavesdrop, and the thought of spending the rest of his life in service to the Maker was abhorrent to him. He stole into the night, escaping his idea of hell for another, far more real one.
The streets of Denerim are a dangerous place, as any guardsman worth his salt will tell you, but they are especially dangerous to a young boy on his own. The first couple of nights were a nightmare, a life in the Chantry had hardly prepared Faen for what he faced now. He was smart though, and quickly ingratiated himself with a group of other orphans, who taught him all the skills he would need to live on the streets, such as how to make himself look just pathetic enough while begging that people would take pity on him without being disgusted, or how to tell which merchants were the best marks while pick pocketing.
It was during a ‘foray’ into the market when Faen’s life took another turn. He had just delved his greedy little mitt into the pouch of a fat merchant when he was spotted by one of the merchants three guards. A chase ensued, the boy certain he would be caught and beaten. He led the three guards down an alleyway, vaulting a middle aged drunk passed out on the ground. His pursuers weren’t so lucky though, all three stumbling over the vagabond. Forgetting Faen they began to attack the drunk, when the strangest thing happened. The stranger pulled a knife and killed all three with the same ease a man would swat a bug. Faen learnt that this man was Marco Cato, a one time assassin for the Antivan Crows.
Faen, tired of living as an urchin, begged Marco to teach him how to be a warrior, a man with respect and honour. Marco, taking pity on the boy perhaps, said he would take him under his wing, but to lose the aspirations of respect and honour, as the skills he would teach the boy would bring neither. So began Faen’s tutelage in the way of the sword.
Mentor and student travelled Thedas together, Marco teaching Faen what it would take to survive this harsh world while ending the lives of others for money. Faen was a fast learner, quickly coming to surpass his teacher, though that may have had something to do with Marco’s overpowering desire for strong liquors. Still, the two had many adventures together, the stories of their time in the courts of the Empress of Orlais being of particular note. It was not to last though, as all good things must come to an end. Marco hadn’t evaded his fellow crows quite as well as he had originally thought, the assassins eventually tracking he and his new protégé down just outside of Kirkwall. A fierce battle ensued, several Crows falling that day, Marco amongst them.
Alone once more Faen returned to his old home of Denerim. He put his new earned skills to work, settling some old scores with old enemies that had long figured him for dead, making a name for himself as a man not to be messed with. Now he whittles away his days drinking, whoring and doing odd jobs that require a man well used to violence.
Weapons:
A double loading pistol grip crossbow, specially made, one of a kind and extremely expensive. He calls it his baby. A short sword he has named Last-Laugh and a dagger called Mother's Kiss. Secretes several throwing knives about his person, subscribing to the belief that you can never have enough knives. He never bothers naming them, as he keeps losing them in peoples torsos.
Armour:
Has a disdain of heavy armour, preferring his speed and naturally fast reflexes to carry him safe from harm. He usually dresses in browns, greys or blacks, the colours of a man who works in the dark. Will don light leather armour when the needs arise.
Skills:
Faen is a superlative crossbowman, making shots that would make tourney marksmen green with envy. His knife work is superb, and his swordplay excellent.
Has a vast amount of 'street smarts', knowing how to pick a lock, pick a pocket or walk silently.
Athletic.
Marco taught him the basics of alchemy, primarily how to make basic poisons, potions and bombs, and one extremely potent hangover cure.
Name:
Lucio Peruzzi
Race/Nationality:
Human / Antivan
Age:
Thirty-Five
Gender:
Male
Class:
Mage / Shapeshifter
Personality:
Many people would call Lucio a gentlemen. Others, they'd call him a smooth talking son of a bitch. Both would be correct. While the man never fails to be the epitome of polite, he also never fails to piss of nearly every man in any city he moves through. He is a charmer, or at least attempts to be. The allure of a foreigner, a drifter, and the use of sophisticated words is often enough to impress the women of Ferelden, even some of the learned, wealthy ones. A smile is always slapped on his face, and he moves with a grace and ease of one who is completely confident in their own abilities. He enjoys fine wine, the company of beautiful women, and animals. He despises people who are full of themselves, and cheap alcohol. While he will never admit to fear anything, the one thing he is afraid of is death. Not the act of dying, but death itself. There is little he would not do to prolong his existence.
History:
Lucio hails from the beautiful land of Antiva, which he acts is shrouded in allure and mystery, a land of charm and deceit. He does not exaggerate on the deceitful nature of the land, or even its allure. It was those two things that got him into the mess that led him to sojourn south to a land completely opposite of his beloved homeland. It all began in the lovely Antiva City, where Lucio was enjoying his time as a sanctioned mage for one of the merchant princes that frequented the port. More often than not, he was at sea with his liege-lord, but at this particular time he was given nearly a month of free time in Antiva before having to report back to the ship.
Well, being the ladies' man that he is, Lucio went around the city in search of company for the time, and company he found. For the next month, he had an affair with a very pretty girl, just into adulthood. Neither really believed there was something between them, at least not yet, but it was fun to sneak around and see each other in the dead of night, under the eye of the moon. Unfortunately for him, she never said who exactly she was cheating on to have an affair with him. To be honest, though, she likely didn't even know. She was betrothed to one of the Antivan Crows, a man who was greatly feared and respected among his peers for his skill and influence among the courts of Antiva.
Needless to say, it was not taken kindly to when they were discovered. She, of course, was forgiven, because of her youth and naivety. He, on the other hand, was held responsible for both of their actions. After sharing one last night with the girl, he pleaded with his liege to take off early, though he wouldn't give a reason. His liege already knew, had been contacted by the Crows, and in minutes the room was being flooded by assassins who were ready to bring Lucio in for his "crimes." Rather than be caught and face their sort of justice, Lucio bid the men farewell and leapt from the window of the several story tall building. When the assassins looked out, they saw no sign of the mage, only a black bird flying off to the south.
Months later, Lucio resurfaced again in Fereldan, where he wandered around, free of all ties. He wandered, never staying in one place for more than a month at a time, though rarely would he remain anywhere for more than a day or two. Bandit clans in parts of the land learned to leave alone a lone, wandering man in black, past experiences and a pile of corpses leading to a sort of reputation among their kind. In the cities, he was often a welcome guest, parlor tricks of "magicians" entertaining crowds of peasants and nobles alike, while taverns enjoyed his stories of the high seas, of the bright deserts, and of exotic women.
Small villages, however, were often the places where he settled for a time. He could often find a woman, squat in the town for a few days, maybe even a week, before drifting off again, leaving only a few tender words and the occasional broken heart in his wake. However, his time finally came when he was performing one of his tricks in the city of Denerim, nearing the amount of coin it would take to get him out of Ferelden and north to Rivain. A group of templars flagged him down, and while he was able to disarm one and paralyze another, the last was able to silence him before he could change form and escape.
After that, he was taken to the Circle, and was titled "apprentice" until he could finish his Harrowing, which would happen soon after his arrival.
Weapons:
He wields a thin sword of Antivan make, the blade having a few runes etched into its flat to allow it conduct magic as easily as a staff. While a mage's staff might fire a bolt, Lucio's sword will launch a short-lived blade of energy.
Armour:
A thick set of robes and leathers, held together at his waist by a thick sash that covers most of his mid-section, and holds his sword, skinning knife, and satchel, which is filled with unmarked slates and etching tools.
Skills:
Lucio is a fairly learned mage, knowing several stone spells, including Rock Armor, Stone Fist, and even Earthquake. In addition to that, he is able to shift his body into the forms of both a wolf and a raven. Finally, he has learned the Glyph of Paralysis, for defensive use. While he owns a blade, he is hardly skilled with it, using it mostly as a catalyst for his spells, much like most would use a staff. He has become skilled in both Surviving in the wild, and is a wonderful cook. He's also been known to craft decent runes.
Theme Song
Lucius Cypher Looking For Group
Member
Seen
5 days ago
Name: Myrn Atisha
Race/Nationality: Dalish Elf
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Class: Arcane Warrior Mage
Personality:
An adventurous and free-spirited individual. While Myrn is more than able to be determined and stick with a long-term plan, she always looks for small chances of freedom and enjoyment, wherever it may come from. Hardly serious about anything, partly out of simple apathy, but mostly because she's hesitate to create emotional bonds with anyone. To her, it's better to be forgotten than to be missed. The sadness that comes from it just isn't something she wants to deal with. Doesn't really have much faith in any gods or deities, preferring to rely on what works and what she can actually manipulate, be it magic or people. Quick to trust others and also quick to kill friends or innocence if she needs to. Dislikes alcohol and can't understand how people drink it for pleasure, though als because she's a total light weight when it comes to drinking. Loves meat however, as the Dalish often live off gathered greens and bread, with meat rationed due to over hunting in certain areas.
History:
Myrn was born to be the First of her clan. One of the rare few elvish children born from a Keeper themselves, magic was in Myrn's blood before she even took her first breath. She never knew who her father was, as her mother, the Keeper, only mentioned that he had to leave the Clan. For what reasons Myrn never knew. Much of her earlier childhood was spent learning the history of the Elves, the magic of the Keepers, and generally being at her mother's side. As a child this wasn't unusual, but as Myrn grew older, she wanted to be away from her mother to spend time with others. The other children of the Dalish were quick to befriend her, but at the same time, seemed to be in fear of her. It was due to her own mother, the Keeper, and her strict policy with her daughter. She was smothering, almost painfully so. Soon as Atisha grew older, she saw less and less of her clan as her lesson with her mother grew more intricate and complex.
As a teenager, Myrn made up any excuse to leave her mother just to be alone. To go hunting, to gather materials, explore a ruin for old Dalish artifacts. Half the time she stopped making excuses and just leave when her mother didn't notice. During the escapades she saw more of the Dalish and their problems. She saw how they dealt with humans, threatening them with death if they weren't simply killed outright for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She saw how the elves in the cities were treated, allowing themselves to live in squalor just to shake off the notion of being "barbarians and savages". Sufficient to say, Myrn did not like what she saw. And nothing she learned from her mother would have helped the tension; she was only concerned about preserving the past and did nothing to actually make a future for themselves. The Dalish, in Myrn's eyes, were more focused on surviving than they were living.
When Myrn grew into a more adult age, Myrn told her mother that she would be leaving the clan the next time they attend the Arlathvhen. This infuriated Myrn's mother, but she wasn't going to budge. She knew very well that there was more candidates for being the new First, and Myrn made it clear that she was leaving for the good of the Dalish. The life of nomads, waiting for the world to give them what they want, was not something that Myrn had any interest in. She wants the Dalish to thrive and make a place for themselves in the world, and to do that they needed to take it for themselves. Somehow. How that was suppose to happen, Myrn left the clan to discover.
Weapons:
Ironbark Catalyst - A unique swoord that looks to be made of metal, but in truth is actually made of the Ironbark Wood. Lighter and stronger than mundane steel, and carved in such a way that Myrn can use it as the focus for her spells.
Armour:
Simple clothing made with some harden leather to provide some protection while not putting too much strain on her magical ability.
Skills:
Picked up the ability of the Arcane Warrior during one of her explorations through a Dalish Ruin, and from it has learned how to handle a two-handed sword and fight in melee. Despite being a Dalish Elf however, she's hopeless with a bow. Spell wise Myrn knows a few spells such as Rock Armor, Stone Fist, Mind Blast, and Force Field. She's a competent herbalist and has enough survival skills to live off the land and detect the movements of most creatures
Song of Victory
Hexaflexagon
Member
Seen
7 mos ago
Her hair is black and has been cut short so that it could not be used to pull her down.
Name: Knight-Lieutenant Arryn Vral
Race/Nationality: Fereldanian/ Human
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Class: Templar
Personality:
A pragmatic individual, devout in her beliefs, and exceptional at getting results as efficiently as possible, mostly do to her training. Arryn is a cold individual seemingly distant from the world around her and the deaths her own hand has caused over the years. Being in charge of small teams to hunt down maleficars had lead her to have a calm and tactical mind during battle always the ever-minded tactician trying to keep two steps ahead of whatever threat presents itself in front of her. Though because of her cold professionalism most are afraid or turned away from her seemingly ghoulish ability to weigh a quantitative value on human life. Though contrary to popular belief she does her morals and the capacity to feel guilt and sorrow but she has learned to be able to put her own morals aside to serve the greater good as the blade of Andraste. And when she is not actively on duty she can be seen acting almost normal smiling and enjoying a good warm meal as much as the next person.
History:
Born 96:Blessed Arryn grew up in the arling of West Hills the heavy forested land situated in the southwestern Ferelden the last bastion of civilization among the borderlands of the Frostbacks and the Wilds. the eldest daughter of three with a brother John and her little sister Gwyn. Their parents were Sir Vral a knight who fought under the banner of Arl Gallagher Wulff and a hunter who he fell madly in love with known as Caithe.
Arryn's childhood was a simple one in the forests of West Hills they lived in a small village where nothing much really happened beside woodworking and farming the same wood working and farming that had been going on for generations. The occasional sign of the greater world penetrating thorough was when her father was called down to the Arls estate to serve as part of the guard for a few months out of the year , as well as the occasional dwarven caravan coming from the topsiders outside of Orzammar before they headed north towards Denerim. It was a small town where everybody knew one another and family histories and interactions could be traced back and linked together for years. Though everybody had there favorites and Arryn's was a sister of the Chantry known as Ilia. Ilia would always have the best stories to tell all the children of the village while their parents ghosted away to the tavern to get a bit of a reprieve themselves. She would tell stories of heroes chosen by the Maker to perform great deeds from stopping plagues to slaying abominations, as well as stories of the other heroes of Ferelden such as that of King Maric or of Teyrn Loghain's courageous battle at the River Dane. These stories always inspired Arryn to want to become a great hero so that people could tell stories about her and so she had found herself a dream and a goal to strive for at a young age.
Arryn's militant training prior to joining the templars came out of necessity more then anything else for many dangers surrounded West Hills. These dangers ranged from wild wolves and other beasts that had wandered out of the Wilds and the Frostbacks but animals could be outsmarted the greater danger was that of the Chasind and the Avvar that lived around them and would ride the villages and towns of the arling during the winter months to sustain themselves and their tribes. And so from a young age every child was at least able to weld a dagger to defend themselves if the time came. Since both of her parents had prior combat experience they were able to train her well, the young girl taking more to the sword and shield skill set of her father rather then her mother's preferred use of bows. She would spar with her younger siblings and her father when he was home and not busy with his axe gathering lumber. She enjoyed the art of combat the feeling of the wooden practice sword her father had carved for her and the weight of it in her hand. It was something fun to do and it was oddly meditative in a way.
This was how most of her early life progressed as she grew up into a women. Fighting, praying, eating, hunting, Fighting, praying, eating, hunting and so on and so forth for seemingly the longest time. When she was sixteen she began to go out with her mother trusted her to go out on hunts alone in the surrounding area and she was dragged along whenever they went to market the game they caught the traders. It was around this time that Gwyn began to show signs of magical ability the youngest Vral she was seven. Soon afterwards the Templars from the circle came to take her to the circle tower. Arryn did not like this idea of her sister begin taken away just because she could do magic it was not her fault and she would never hurt anyone. But yell this she did as the templars took her away it did not change anything and for the first time the full weight of Transfigurations 1:2 bared down upon her, a passage that little did she know would eventually become part of the foundation of her entire life.
Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.
Foul and corrupt are they
Who have taken His gift
And turned it against His children.
They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones.
They shall find no rest in this world
Or beyond.
But time moves on ever forward and wounds are healed and covered. It was not until two whole years after Gywn was taken that the hands of fate caste their shadow down upon her once more. She eighteen years old when the Avvar raiding party attack her village. The winter winds had come hard that year and the Wilds and the Frostbacks seemed void of life as the icy winds seemed to claim any and all life that tried to sprout. The cold kept West Hills in a savage grip where the villagers tried their best to survive on their harvest food stores and the occasional hunt gone right. Though a hungry stomach was nothing compared to the Avvar that would come down into the arling their footsteps easily concealed in shifting snow allowing for them to remain undetected. Several raids had already happened early in the season with increasing frequency and even though the Arl positioned guards along the borders there was still vast land to be covered and the raiding parties knew where to find the holes in the patrols. Men of the West Hills and the tribesmen of Avvar felt no deeper hatred towards one another then one born out of circumstance. Both parties were trying to survive and to survive one had to acquire resources and defend them. That was all raiding season boiled down to a game of survival, kill or be killed.
They hit the village fast coming out of the woods in the dead of night and many were dead before the alert could even be sounded. Houses of canvas and lumber began to burn as the raiders swept through like an avalanche. The rest of her family died in the resulting chaos that resulted along with most of the villages population. Though the Avvar were eventually routed when the Shaman leading the raiding party was seemingly struck down. Their moral broken the towns folk were able to gain the upper hand. They say when the templars sent by the Chantry found Arryn after the battle she was still in the middle of the town center hacking away at the bloody and mangled body of the Avvar Shaman she had killed with a woodsman hatchet in a raged induced rampage the night before. With nothing left for her no family except for her sister away in the circle and with no more home when she was offered a chance to train to join the ranks of the Templar Order she accepted.
Over the next fifteen years she trained as a templar and she fell right into it. It was through this process that she began to become cold and distant learning to put her morals behind her to get results. When she was 25 years old she promoted to knight corporal and when she was thirty she was promoted to Knight-Lieutenant. Her natural martial talents and a cool head built for battle added her. Some say that someday she could become a Knight-Vigilant one day if she was kept on the forward track that she was currently on. Currently though with the rising blood mage problems she was sent to the Chantry in Gwaren to investigate a strong maleficar presence there. Still young and not with many years under her belt in the order yet she was still learning always learning it was required for the mages and abominations would not stop adapting and so neither could she.
Weapons:
Standard Issue Sword and Shield provided by the Chantry
Armour:
Templar Heavy Armor
Skills:
Beside her Martial skills being who she is she has an understanding nature of the templar talents to a degree. Having not perfected them to science like Knight-Commander Graegoir but still understanding the basics.
Theme song
GreivousKhan Deus Vult
Member
Seen
3 yrs ago
Appearance:
Kathleen stands at a daunting 6'5, and weighs easily 200Ib's, most of it raw muscle, giving her a slim though athletic build. There are some odd hints of Kossith blood given how physically robust Kathleen is to most others. Though this may just be due to her harsh upbringing.
Name: Kathleen
Race/Nationality: Chasind
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Class: Berserker
Personality:
Kathleen is a straight forward individual and a no-nonsense warrior. Slow to judge, or take offence and surprisingly clever, despite no formal education. Well even tempered enough, Kathleen, when angered, can become a true terror to whoever is the object of her ire. Kathleen is often slow to trust strangers, but gives them ample enough time to earn it, and those who can call her friend have a stalwart ally indeed, one who would never abandon them and would die in their place in a heartbeat. Her time in the wilds means she holds little to no value in gold or riches, and indeed would even pass such things by should they come across her path. One cannot buy Kathleen's trust.
Given her past, one might be surprised to learn that Kathleen's one greatest fear is in fact being alone. She also hates an unfair fight, and will defend someone who can't defend themselves if their life is in danger. Though apart of that is she also enjoys a good fight.
History:
Kathleen past is partly shrouded in mystery, for one she does not even know the identity of her birth parents. Found as an orphan on the borders of the Korcari Wilds by a Chasind tribe. The elder, a kindly women named Eavan, took pity on the child and took the young defenceless babe as her own. Kathleen would grow up and spend most of her young life amongst the Chasind, who treated her as one of their own thus forming a strong kinship, even so life in the southern wastes were not easy by any means. Kathleen would learn the viable skills needed for survival, hunting, tracking, and skinning game, how best to avoid the many dangers of the wilds by reading Chasind markings, she was even taught minor herbalist skills from Eavan, who became something of her adopted mother.
The peaceful tribe never saw Kathleen as an outsider, and it was not long before she was quickly assimilated into the community as she learned their ways. As a young girl, Kathleen grew quickly enough, in fact at the age of thirteen winters she stood almost a head taller then even boys much older then her. Many of the tribe nicknamed her Damhnait, which loosely translated 'Ox' in the kings tongue. Kathleen's physical stature would only continue to grow as she aged, something many of the children picked on her for. This often resulted with a boy ending up with a bloody nose if not worse, as Kathleen would develop quit the nasty tamper. Though she was ever the soft spoken and peaceful sort on most occasions, when provoked she could become frightening indeed.
By the time she was of age, the tribes war leader was impressed by Kathleen's strength, and quickly mentored her in Chasind styled fighting. Among the young unblooded, she would become the most promising and formidable fighter, showing a kind of relentlessness that was unmatched by all, but the most savage, proving her worth in hunts and raids alike. However, the peace she knew would not last. During the last days of a rather harsh winter, a marauding tribe from the southern wastes swept north in a great raid. Kathleen's village was right in its path. Though they fought bravely, the unforeseen and unprovoked assault quickly overwhelmed the tribes defenders, leading to many- young or old, being butchered indiscriminately. Kathleen, who was away on a hunt, came too late to lend any aid, arriving in time only to watch Eavan, the only women she could call mother, skewered by a spear.
The sight of the women who raised, taught, and protected her from childhood murdered before her eyes caused something to snap in Kathleen that day. With powerful bewildering war cry she charged into the ranks of the raiders killing or at least injuring many before they even realized they were under attack. Though they outnumbered her easily enough, the sight was enough to break the ranks of the raiders and force them to flee. The damage by then had been down however, and hardly anything of the tribe was left in the wake of the war party. Kathleen held a dying Eavan as she drew her last breaths, and with her death Kathleen was truly alone once again. Scavenging what she could she soon moved on, leaving what was no bitter memories and reminders behind. She would travel the dangerous Korcari Wilds alone for the next two years, managing to Eek out a living where few others could hope to survive using the many skills she had learned from her tribe. It was not a easy existence. She tired to join other tribes, but it never ended well.
As fate would have it, one day while on the edge of the Korcari Wild to the north, Kathleen came upon a man fending off a group of bandits. Kathleen would have normally ignored the plight of one she did not know, but having seen that the dishonourable means of which they had attacked him, she did not hesitate long before she intervened. In the aftermath she learned that the man in fact belonged to the legendary Ash Warriors, a group she had only heard little of in her time with her tribe. Impressed with her skill, the man offered her the chance to join the prestigious band. Up until then, Kathleen had little in the ways of a purpose, thus, with much coaxing, she agreed.
It would turn out that her place among the pious mercenaries seemed one of fate, for their ideals and skills suited Kathleen well indeed. She spent the rest of her following years training, and the art of the berserkers seemed to come almost as second nature to her. Her journeys fighting throughout Fereldan brought her some fame as he talents grew. She learned much of the world, and though some at first treated her with disdain at the sight of her Chasind war paint and tattoos, such opinions quickly melted away once statues within the acclaimed group of warriors was learned. Kathleen in current days has yet to earn her own Mabari war hound as of yet, and she continues to travel and live primarily off the good will of those she helps. An existence that comes easily to one who has had to survive by their own skills, cleverness and talent.
Weapons:
Kathleen carries a large steel warhammer, the head shaped like a eagle. The reason for its shape being due in large part to Chasind beliefs. She wields it with apparent ease despite it's size. She carries a hunting dagger at the small of her back.
Armour:
She wears a cuirass fashioned in the common ash warrior style. Though most of her body is adorned in tough leather hide for increased mobility. Given her time among the Chasind, she has decorated her armor with furs and, the trophies of her kills.
Skills: Tracking, Hunting, trap-making, a talented herbalist, and possess General Survival skills, Blood-rage (though she has little control once enacted, and might not be able to tell a friend from foe) which allows her to harness her anger and forge it into a weapon, she is fairly skilled in its use though still has much to learn. While her blood-rage is rather noteworthy, Kathleen's greatest asset and skill would in fact be her raw physical strength, she has in fact yet met a man stronger than her.
Theme
Name: Alexander Thire.
Race/Nationality: Human, Ferelden.
Age: Twenty-three.
Gender: Male.
Class: Dual-Wielding Warrior.
Personality:
Alexander is someone who atrives to make something great out of himself in life, but living in the shadow of his brother has left him with little chance of doing that. For this reason, he is resentful of those who expect others to do things for them, who abuse their positions as a lord, to do harm rather than good. He uses his limited influence within the Keep's grounds to help those who need it, whenever he can, always looking out for the underdog. He can be quick to judge people, and it's hard to shift his opinion on someone once his mind is made up,
He really isn't a man of many tastes, he loves his wife, and soon to be born child. But he is a very reserved man, who rarely opens up to anyone but his wife. By spending much of his time in court, regrettably by his fathers side, deciding on matter of the land, he sometimes finds it hard to sleep. Due to his fathers rather ruthless take on justice.
History:
Born only a few years after the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden, to a father who changed sides every other week,.it was by some stroke of amazing luck, that once the Rebels finally won, that Bann Tedryn, Alexander's father, some how wasn't hung for his actions and was instead more or less ignored. Even though he had openly supported the Orlesian forces on more than one occasion. Tedryn knew all too well that he was lucky to survive the war unscived, and as the father of three other children, he did everything within his power to secure his legacy. The son that would succeed him, wasn't to be Alex, but his eldest son, Morin Thire.
Instead Alex became his prize child, while Morin would go on to claim glory in battle, with the intention of redeeming the name of the family, Alex was instead to be wedded of, simply to secure more power via marriage. Alex, of course had other ideas, Ser Gwendel, one of his father's few Knights and Alex's second, began training him the finer arts of swordsmanship. Out of all the Knights that swore an oath to Tedryn, Gwendel was probably the only one to have a shred of honour left in them. When others just saw a child acting out of place, Ser Gwendel saw someone with potential.
Potential that a certain father needn't know about. Tedryn never openly said that his other children couldn't make their own in life, but it was all too clear that he wanted Morin, and Morin only to claim glory, while the rest of his children simply expanded the blood lines and the Bannorn's borders.
As the years went on, Alex naturally got older and Gwendel, being an older man himself eventually passed away. Out of all the people he knew, and his position effectively forced him to know all those people, Gwendel was the only one he truly considered to be a friend. It had been decided years ago, that upon his twentieth birthday, that he would be married to 'someone befitting his position, as the son of a Bann'. Tedryn was expecting for the daughter of an Arl, or even an Teynir, but fate was not in his favour, instead he was wedded to the daughter of Bann Hallis, while Alex might have considered her a woman he'd be content to spend the rest of his life with, Bann Tedryn was very much not.
But there was hardly anything he could do about it, the Bann of Sundown Hills was hardly in a position to be declaring an arranged marriage anul. For the next three years, he spent much of his life in the Thire's Keep, with his wife and his soon to be born child. And if the rumors of Morin's 'inadequacy' are true, a son who also happens to be the heir to the Sundown Hill's Bannorn. The prospect of out-doing his older brother, and actually having something go his own way is something that brings joy to a young man's heart.
The days dawns close that Bann Tedryn Thire is to hold his annual Glory Provings, a collection of warriors from the lands close, and sometimes far who come together and fight for glory, honour and of course the most important factor, Coin. Alexander plans on taking park in the Glory Provings, not to prove anything to his father, but to prove to himself that he can be something, even if a little bit of deception is required.
Weapons:
Alex own's a pair of decorated Longswords, supposedly made of Silverite, but most likely made from Steel. While it is Thirein tradition to go into battle with two swords, Alexander was not fully trained in that form, instead opting to use a smaller blade, if possible.
Armour:
Alex is the prize son of a Bann, it is for this reason that Alex doesn't have any armor he can consider his own. While he may have a set of armour for ceremonial purposes and such, it could hardly be considered actual armour. The armour is again, supposedly made from Silverite but looks strikingly similar to Steel heavy armour, only difference being the family's crest, an eagle, is engraved to the chest piece.
Skills:
Alexander is a fairly experienced swordsman, even able to wield two swords at a time, thought he is unblooded, and has yet to kill a man. His only victories coming from sparring matches with the Knight, Ser Gwelden.
As the son of a noble, and his Father's third in matters of the land, Alex has a keen ability to sway others to his way of thinking, though he no smooth tongue, someone set in there ways isn't going to be swayed by his honeyed words.
As someone to learn from past mistakes, for this reason he is sometimes noted as 'thinking ahead', placing certain elements in specific places. As much as his father doesn't want to admit it, his son had a keen mind for planning a battle.
[url=](Theme song if you like)[/url]
Appearance:
Under the hood Alexander had slightly large black hair that is usually unkempt, along with this he has a scar that starts from his upper lip and ends under the corner of his right eye. Over his left eye there is a tattoo in bright blue ink (in case you are wondering it's the tattoo that is in the Warden model used in the Sacred Ashes and The Calling trailer, sorry I don't know how to describe it) and his eyes are a moss-green color
Name:
Alexander Verinus
Race/Nationality:
Human / Ferelden
Age:
Thirty
Gender:
Male
Class:
Mage / Blood Mage
Personality:
Alexander holds no particular love for the Maker, believing him to be cruel and selfish for turning his back on the world simply because he lost something precious, for he believes that humans -specially mages- have to go through this on a daily basis, but this is a belief that he hold close to his heart and he does not share often. His time in tevinter transformed and once caring, naive, boy into a cunning manipulator with a slight dash of paranoia due to the betrayal he suffered in there. However, under this cruel layers of his personality lies a man who wishes for two things: freedom and peace.
The freedom to choose his path in life, be it either in a Circle of Magi or in the open world and peace, either of mind or actual peace, to pursue whatever desire, or goal, he has chosen to follow him on his life. Appart from this, Alexander is a studious man who likes to study history and ancient cultures and to experiment with magic, a tendency that was greatly amplified by his time in the Imperium, he is also quite a fan of smoking.
History:
Alexander, born to the name of Leith, was an apprentice to the Tower of Magi in Ferelden and born on it to unknown parents. He lived there a quiet life, although he was marked by an early age as a troublemaker and thus tended to gravitate towards the same kind of people; this had the unfortunate effect of him having to see most of his friends being branded as Tranquil, either due to the possibility of them falling prey to the temptation of Blood Magic or due to their unstable personalities attracting demos more easily (according to the templars). However, one night when he was 10, he heard a commotion and rising from his bed, he began following the sound which led him to a meeting between a group of mages, all apprentices but quite old, and templars.
Apparently they were planning a breakthrough, and seeing the young Leith they decided to take him with them since they were not going to murder a children in cold blood ot further their plans. So, that night, they broke into the phylactery chamber and the mage group escaped while the sympathetic templars pretended that they were lying on the ground injured. They escaped towards Amaranthine, but unfortunately they were soon given chase by the templars and so the young Alexander had to see the kind mages who had taken him to be killed one by one or turned into abominations out of sheer desperation; eventually him and the only other surviving mage, a woman of 20 years who had taken care of him during the journey, arrived to the port-city and charted a ship to Tevinter along other people, however the kind woman died of a wasting disease and died during the trip with her body being overboard to be fed to the fishes.
Eventually, he arrived to Minrathous and lived off in the streets, begging to people for food until an Altus mage of the family Verinus took him as a servant. After a few years of working for the mage, he accidentally used his powers in front of him. The Verinus mage, having no heir, decided to adopt him and gave him the name Alexander. He lived in the rich and opulence of a Tevinter Altus mage, learning blood magic and honing his skills in the spirit tree of magic study, specially in the death branch of it, and learning some swordplay as his adoptive father believed that it was foolish to not to have a backup plan. This little routine continued until one day the poor Alexander was used as a scapegoat by a failed attempt of the Verinus family to gain more political clout of the Magisterium, and so he was forced to run again and returned to Ferelden, this time more wise he arrived to Amaranthine and then made his way back to Denerim by proclaiming he was the son of a templar. Eventually, he settled into a quiet life in the Denerim market, using whatever contacts he had in the Imperium to sell and odd trinket here and there to make a living.
Weapons:
Staff with runes inscribed to provide easier channeling of mana and for lightning damage as well.
Tevinter sword
Armour:
A customized Tevinter armour usually worn by the mages of the Altus class, his arms, shoulders, chest and legs are protected by a thin armor with stylized image of dragons. Over it is what could be considered a trench coat that reaches up ti his knees, along with this he wears a hood to hide his face.
Skills:
Alexander has an average knowledge of elemental spells, being able to cast the basic ones of at least electricity, cold, and fire spells, but his specialty lies in the knowledge of blood and spirit trees of magic, in the latter one he specializes in the school commonly associated with death. Along with this Verinus has a good way around words, allowing to convince people of the truths he wants them to believe, and a mediocre knowledge of smart streets, he also knows to cook quite well even knowing a few Tevinter recipes.
Sorry about double post, internet problems
Name: Sereda Salrokallak
Race/Nationality:
Dwarven Exiled Smith Caste
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Personality:
Sereda loves money more than anything. That being said, she still has more morals than just making money, but it's a very nice incentive. She'd sell out her friends if she can make up the money to cover the difference, depending on how close she is them. Which usually isn't, since she makes it clear from the get go that she only really befriends others if they could be used to make more money. To that end however, she happens to be friendly with lots of people; she's the type of person who'd made a square hole for square pegs, someone who always tries to see the usefulness in someone and make them feel needed. She's very stingy with her money however and is hesitant to spend it freely, and it carries over into how she deals with day-to-day problems; she won't invest her time into something she can't profit from in some way or form. She's also rather paranoid and quick to jump the gun if she feels that she or something she values is being threaten, and is not a very forgiving person. She's played the politics back at Orzammar, and while she's not the best, she knows her way about manipulation and doesn't tolerate others trying to use her.
History:
Sereda was born between the Warrior Caste of Salrokallak (Friend in War) and Isana (Singing Stone). It was largely a political marriage, but the two newly weds liked each other enough. Sereda's mother was from the House Isana, a smith with little renown but great skill. She was one of the developers of the Runic Crossbows; that is, crossbows that can infuse the bolts that fly out of it with various magical effects depending on what Rune is attached to it. Different from merely enchanting the crossbows, as the effect is an innate ability of the crossbow itself, thus allowing additional enchantments alongside the given effects of the crossbow. Sereda's mother also developed the Spiral Edge Bolts, special crossbow bolts specifically designed to through stone walls. Most armors don't fare any better. Sereda's father had fought in many campaigns into the Deep Roads and is a teacher of the Twin Maul fighting style; using two clubs to their fullest efficiency, making even the more artistic swordsmanship look downright barbaric in comparison. Sereda was just one of the children that her father sired, and Sereda had at least a dozen half-siblings, most of whom want nothing to do with her and the feeling is mutual.
Sereda spent much of her childhood learning her mother's trade, which she picked up quickly. Her mother would boast about Sereda's skills to the others, claiming that she'll be the next Paragon with how quickly she was picking up her mother's teachings. Sereda was a bit more humble and downplayed her talent, but there was no doubt that before she was even ten years old, she knew how to work Silverite into a fine blade and how to fuse Lyrium into even the most complicated of armors. Her skills in the forge is actually want made her father take notice of her more so than his other children; while they tried to take up arms and become warriors, they also bickered and fought among each other. Sereda was the only one who didn't seem to care about screwing over her bothers and sisters, and was actually concerned about her father's well-being during his expeditions. Because of it, when Sereda's father was around he would take some time to spend with her, to teach her the Twin Maul fighting style and life in general. Sereda's father was aloof, but carried a sort of wisdom from his life constantly fighting not only the Darkspawn, but his own people. He knew that the path the dwarves were going on right now was only going to led to a slow death, and that it would take extreme action to change them for better or worse.
Despite Sereda's wish to remain unaffiliated in Dwarven Politics, her own neutrality made her a target for many, and not just within her own House. Some sought to gain her favor simply to reinforce their own influence, others saw her as a threat since she often would refuse to give her favor. While not the most sociable child of House Salrokallak, she arguably had the closest bond to her father, who was at the time the next in line to be the leader of the House. Those who sought to ally and use House Salrokallak sought to either appease Sereda's father or Sereda herself, and every time she refused to give into their bribery, she only made more enemies.
It all came to head when she was around 30 years old. Her father was now the leader of House Salrokallak, and rumors have spread that Sereda was to be the next in line, despite having three older brothers. Sereda herself denied these claims and was not even aware that her father would think that she's worthy of such a position. Sereda had fought in a few fights in the Provings and against wayward assassins, but she lacked the tactical knowledge and battle prowess to lead a house of Warriors as her father did. But regardless of what she thought of herself, others only saw her as a threat. And because of her neutrality and her refusal to create allies, she was easily blackmailed for crimes she did not commit, but had no one to stand by and defend her. Even her father could not protect her, though that was because he was out on another campaign. Sereda's mother tried her best to claim her daughter's innocence, but being Sereda's mother made her testimony invalid. Sereda was to be exiled from Orzammar and her names erased from the Shaperate. Despite fighting tooth and nail against it, Sereda decided to leave Orzammar with at least some dignity. She gathered what little belongings she could and headed to the surface.
Life outside of Orzammar was not as bad as Sereda had thought. Though she initially did find it hard to get along with the surfacers, soon enough she managed to get into a mindset that would allow her to befriend others; Money. Her skills weaving Lyrium and Smithing made her quite valuable, and she found to make most of her money working with the Templars at the Circle of Magi. She created for them armor and weapons she enchanted herself, while at the same time, shared a little bit of her knowledge on enchantments and Lyriums with the mages. Soon she left the circle and joined up with a Caravan, where she put her skills with her crossbow and the Twin Maul style to good use; when she wasn't selling her skills fixing up kitchen ware or making fancy lanterns, she was bashing bandit skills into their heads. It was good money and an enjoyable experience, but once again Sereda felt the need to find something new to do.
Weapons:
Steel Studded Club - A deceptively light but durable wooden club with steel studs. Despite looking like nothing more than an embellished cudgel, in Sereda's hand it can move faster than an arrow and hit harder than a Golem's fist. She'd often have it constantly moving in order to both build up and maintain constant momentum, and shattering the blades and hilt of other weapons is a common tactic she employs. It also has a spike on the tip for stabbing.
Murder Knife - Actually more like a dagger. A simple steel dagger that is weighted for throwing, stabbing, slashing, and other reasons you might need a blade for. Affectionately called the Murder Knife by Sereda due to what she mainly uses it for. Often the off-hand weapon when wielding her club.
Runic Crossbow - The last gift Sereda made for her daughter before her exile. The rune on it gives each of the bolts fire from it an explosive effect, not only harming enemies near the point of impact, but also knocking enemies back or to the ground. Sereda carries normal bolts as well as Fire, Ice, and Sureshot (Highly effective against Darkspawn).
Armour:
While it may look like Sereda wears what may only be normal clothes and maybe some parts armor, she actually wears iron chainmail underneath her clothing, with some iron pauldrons to both provide protection and to show her pride of being formerly part of House Salrokallak.
Skills:
Proficient Two-Weapon Fighter especially with maces and other blunt weapons. A dead shot with a Crossbow, but only decent with a bow. Knows how to maintain and make equipment and magical enchantments. Her smithing expertise not only cover weapon and armor, but just about anything dealing with metals in general, including locks and traps. She would like to say that she's a good manipulator, though in truth it's more like she knows when someone is trying to manipulate her. Bonus points to her Sense Motive checks. And while not necessary a skill, Sereda is fairly resistant to both poison and magic due to exposure to both over the years as well as being a dwarf.
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