[CHAR] Dragon Age: Vagabond Souls

[Bornlucky]

Name:
Anaan Fennec

Race:
Qunari

Class:
Dual Blade Rogue (Assassin-esque)

Appearance:

Personality:
Intimidating and serious is what would people would call this Qunari. In reality, he's painfully naive and easily confused. He tries to think objectively, but it makes him confused by everything outside of Par Vollen.
He acts stoic to hide his embarrassment of his nativity, he doesn't speak much since he has only learned the common tongue a few years ago and is still learning, so he often has to stop talking to translate every word people speak.

Once you get to know him he starts to act like he did back in Par Vollen which is that he is friendly and considerate to others. He loves animals often feeding stray cats and dogs and keeps them in his house. He likes to knit and sew clothes, which is a habit he picked up from his life, the clothes he makes are really warm and soft, but his sense of fashion is lacking. He gets excited easily.

Backstory:
Born under the Qun, Anaan was always the perfect child for farming. Bred to be so. He always followed his orders and the rules of the Qun. He was nothing different and had a normal life for most of his youth, and very early adulthood. The farm he worked at was at the edge of par vollen, close to the ocean. Unexpectedly Anaan just didn't have it in him to be part of the Qun any longer. So he left and turn Tal-vashoth. He went south as a stowaway and ended up in Rivine, which he stayed for a few years to learn some life skills and how to survive on his own.
It was rough but he survived and even learn how to fight with a pair of daggers and was oddly sneaker for being nearly seven feet. But he moved on and became a vagabond and traveled the land until he found a place to call his own a few years later (will be worked out).

In the years he was given the nickname Fennec though he's not sure why people called him that. But he decided that he needed a last name so he made it so.

Skills:
Stealth: Throws a smoke bomb to the ground and hides in the madness, can hide even in plain sight.
Twin Fang: You lash out with both daggers, striking deep.
Rush: The rogue rushes forward, attempting to knock down the target and all nearby enemies.
Backstab: The lightning-quick rogue vanishes in a smoke screen and reappears behind the enemy with a fierce strike to the back.

[my Lalia]

Her Staff

Name:
Brea Lovell
Race:
Human
Class:
Mage, Rift Mage/fire

Personality:

Brea is a bit of a free spirit and loves to study forbidden arts, does that mean she practices them? No, she simply wants to know why people fear certain things. She also has a serious side and won't stand for being a door mat.
She loves people, even if people don't always like her but she doesn't care. She can be a hard person to piss off, so if you happen to do so it's time to run. She dislikes arrogant people and people who think they are better than the minorities.

Bio:

Brea was the love child of an apostate and a bar owners daughter. Her parents never lived together, as her father wished to keep his family secret. He would visit for a while, which seemed to be the happiest of memories for her, as all her family were together. Her father would tell stories about his travels and would bring gifts for her and her mother. But all that happiness seemed to disappear the day she displayed signs of magic. In fear of being caught her mother kept her in the house until her fathers next visit. It seemed like forever to a little girl, but once her father was back he began to teach her how to control her magic.
this went on for a few years, but as her and her father returned to visit her mother Templars were waiting for them. A fight broke out but they were out numbered and were then taken to the circle in Orlais.
She never saw her father again and learned to hate the circle. She couldn't understand why she had to be locked away like some animal , when she was learning more from her father and other apostates than in the tower. She missed the wide open spaces and playing in the trees. Some of the apostates that they had camped with often asked if her mother was an elf, considering her love for nature.

But sadly she was stuck in the circle, but she made the most of it. She learned as much as she could as fast as she could, this earned her the attention of the Templars. They didn't like how fast she was learning nor did they like that she taught the others some of the magic she learned while free.

Before they could do anything, the circles were dissolved and the war broke our. Brea had managed to stay out of the fighting at first but then was dragged into it when the inquisition had them help. That was when she learned to be a Rift Mage, it was also when she learned a bit of blood magic. It was while she was in the inquisition that she learn that her mother was killed during a raid from the red Templars.

Now alone and no longer needing to stay with the inquisition, she is trying to live a normal life. But the world has changed much since the last time she was truly free.

Skills:
Firestorm; summon flaming meteors, raining fire down upon enemies all over the area.
Stonefist; summon a boulder from the Fade and smash it into your target, sending them flying. 
Veilstrike; recreate your own fist from the essence of the Fade and smash nearby foes to the ground. 
Fire Mine;

[NyanCaxx]

Name: Viela the Antivan
Race: Elf
Class: Double Dagger Rogue/Assassin

Appearance:


Personality: Viela is a confident, snarky, sarcastic and humor-filled young woman. She's a free spirit, who does what she likes whenever she likes, short of betraying the Crows. She approaches murder and sex with the same attitude: If you enjoy it and you're good at it, why not?

Backstory: Viela would likely make up an extravagant and exciting lie about her past, but the truth is actually quite mundane. She was born the daughter of a poor elven couple who lived in the Alienage in Antivan City. When she was very young her father, a dock worker, fell into the bay and never surfaced. Her mother died of illness not long after and, rather than have to spare time and resources on an orphan, the elder of the Alienage sold her to the Antivan Crows for a handful of silvers.

Viela was raised and trained by the Crows, committing her first murder before she was ten summers old. Viela showed a natural aptitude to the murderous arts and quickly became a star member of the Antivan Crows. Eventually she was given leave to operate anywhere she wished, even outside of Antiva. However, in return for the relative independence the Crows expect absolute perfection and complete loyalty. She was told, in no uncertain terms, that should she fail a single assignment or betray any of their secrets she would never be welcome in Antiva again, and every Crow would be after her head.

Skills/Abilities:

• Stealth: She steps into the shadows, going unnoticed by her enemies and allowing her to get the drop on them.
• Twin Fangs: She sinks both daggers into an enemy and retreats out of range before they can retaliate.
• Parry: She quickly blocks an enemy's blow and counter attacks while their defences are lowered.
• Spinning Blades: She lashes out with a series of fast slashing attacks that close in on a foe and drives them back on the defensive.
• Smoke Bomb: She casts a smoke bomb at her feet, disorienting nearby enemies and allowing her to slip unnoticed back into the shadows. (Variation on Knockout Bomb)

[Hexaflexagon]

Name:
Freyan de Garcon
Race:
Human

Class:
Chevalier, Sword and Shield Warrior

Appearance:

Personality:
A gentle and knowing smile is usually what is cast about Freyan's face. He acts mature for his age a sense of honor having been grilled into him at a young age, always the hero and gentlemen. A hero of the every man he is the first to jump to somebody's aid and offer a helping hand when needed even if the situation would bothersome for himself. All in all he is exactly what you don't want to be growing up in Orlais, his betters and peers considered him weak for having the common decency to look out for those around him and his parents bemoaned the fact that if he just stopped giving a damn about others he could be a perfect little noble. But Freyan is a stubborn one never giving way in his ideals and his outlook on life, his convictions and beliefs are what give him the strength to hold up his shield against a myriad of attackers and protect his fellows. In his mind he would wish to be a hero of yore but it seems that every time he tries to be one, he just ends up messing things up more.

Freyan always walk with a sense of pride backed by a steady stride trying his best to keep his own insecurities at bay. Outwardly one would assume he was a pretty serious person always caring about the mission and the people but in the rare moments of relaxation that come to him so infrequently you may see another kind of person. A man that doesn't mind a joke and will try and tell his own, mindful that in reality he never really knows any good jokes. He will take part in the drinking of drinks and the telling of tales of his heroics of course they are made a bit taller to make his tales of heroics maybe just a little bit bigger. For why say you saved a girl from one bear when you can say that you saved a girl from four bears? These petty lies seem like nothing to Freyan as they are not really hurting anyone are they? His kind deposition makes him a good person to talk to about life sometimes as he waxes philosophically about the nature of it all making you wondering if he is answering your question or just possessing more towards himself.

In the end though when it comes down to it he is still pretty young. Sure he's an excellent warrior and got the confidence to swing his sword around in battle but he is still just trying to figure things out. He knows he wants to be a hero, to be a good person but he doesn't exactly know what that means. He has questions of his own, he wonders every day if he made the right move to leave the Cheavalier's and become a wandering adventure. Did he make the right choice or was he just flailing about trying to put off the undeniable end for as long as possible by playing hero. Was what everyone said about him right? Is He just some idiot? He hopes not.

Bio:
Freyan was born in Val Royeaux the third son of an affluent noble. With so many sons and those ahead of him being ready to take over the family line Freyan himself deiced to concentrate on his martial skills. Freyan studied his sword play with the instructor his father hired for him, he studied languages and culture underneath a bard who had a long service with his family. He studied history specifically military history with his tutors studying everything from blights, to exalted marches and wars learning the ways of heroes and generals and their military strategy. His parents scolded him for not paying attention in his etiquette classes and instead drawing pictures of knights and battle plans always thinking about his next sparring session. Eventually though Freyan was old enough to join the legendary Cheavalier's of Orlais.

Cheavlier's training is legendary in the severity and intensity. He packed up as little more than a young men and went off to be molded into a warrior. The Academie des Chevaliers in Val Royeaux became his new home away from home as he was trained in the ways of Thedas' most feared men at arms. They broke Freyan down into nothing so that they could rebuild him into a weapon of war, out were his old ways of thinking and replaced by the constant strict code of discipline and honor that the Chevaliers lived by for their entire lives. They were taught what at the time Freyan believed to be the merits of a real hero, to defend the weak and to fight for your honor no matter how terrible the foe. He was drilled in history knowing more about the world then he could ever before. He knew of Fereldan barbarians, Antivian assassins and Rivain shamans. He learned of templars and mages and studied with all his willpower until he was well versed and felt comfortable with his knowledge of the world. A knowledge that as an adventure now is very grateful to have learned.

But The Academie des Chevaliers was not just a place of learning it was also a place of combat. Relentless training which essentially beat the participant's body into submission was brutal yet held very effective results. The instructors look to hone a level of tremendous power and finesse into each and every recruit forging them into weapons. They fought in the morning, night snow, rain, warm, cold nothing kept them from sparring not even sickness. Because of this Freyan has a natural proficiency in combat both ranged and closed, heavily armed and lightly armed. While he like most Chevaliers prefer to fight in their heavy bulky armor with his sword and shield. He was trained to be adaptable and could fight in any condition his instructors made sure of it and Freyan has the scars, welts and old bruises to prove it.

Some time later Freyan made it and became a full fledged Cheavalier but soon he found himself disheartened. The tales of gallantry that he grew up hearing of these men were all lies. They were cynical and haughty folk who believed that because of their training that they deserved some sort of honor. They did not fight for it but rather used their political prowess to get what they wanted. They abused the peasantry because of their status and left those they did not to die at the hands of bandits. They only gained pleasure in delivering pain and violence to anyone that would stand up to them. They were not the heroes that Freyan thought they were and soon he became lost. Eventually he grew tired of the mockery of heroism that these men presented and in the middle of the night he left Val Royeaux never to return to the Academie des Chevaliers. He stowed away aboard a boat that was making its way to the Free Marches. It was here that he started out as a mercenary doing deeds of heroism to pay the bills at the inn. It was a harder life than the one that he once lived but a more fulling one. His former training as a Chevalier allowed him great prowess and ability against bandits, monsters and the like and for once in his life he felt as if he was doing something good.

Skills:
Chevalier's Step
Ring the Bell
Great Lunge
Assault
Grappling Chain

[Saarebas]

"I don't want to save the world, just strike down those who set it aflame."

Name
Katari
"One Who Brings Death"

Age
29

Race
Vashoth, has never been properly part of the Qun so he is not a Qunari

Class
Mage, Blood Mage

Magical Abilities
Through brutally, rigorous training and practice Katari has become a Blood Mage in a league all his own. Where others use blood magic as a last resort or to only augment their other powers Katari jumps wholeheartedly into the art. He excels in the fields of turning his enemies' own blood against them, using it to either heal himself or causing it to boil under their skin until they burst in a glorious crimson shower. As well he is an expert at bending the will of others while in combat and forcing them to fight as his puppets. Though not nearly as skilled as his manipulating of creatures of this world Katari has in the past been able to bend the will of lesser demons from the Fade. His combat style is different than the usual mage, preferring a up close and personal approach rather than firing away from afar.

Personality
If you were given a copper piece for every time Katari has been described as the "strong silent type" you would never have to work another day in your life. True to the stereotype that has befallen his people Katari on the surface seems quite menacing and imposing, not the one you would expect light conversation from, it is only when he talks that one would see how truly unique Katari is. For when he speaks Katari speaks with the same elegance of the Imperium's noble class, both well thought out and spoken sentences that just seem to flow so naturally one just can't help but be swayed by them. He is not one for jokes, remaining deadly serious most of the time, and likes to get things done as quickly as possible. His training and upbringing has made him slightly sadistic, he quietly enjoys breaking his enemies in both body and spirit especially when he knows they deserve it. Katari believes the end does justify the means, as in if he has to slaughter a few villagers to kill a magister he will do it with out hesitation.

Backstory
Katari's beginnings are a bit of a mystery for he is not sure of them himself. Was he the child of proud Qunari warriors who dedicated their lives to the Qun or was he the result of some drunken night between some Tal-Vashoth rebels, one can only guess. All that is certain is that through a series of misfortunate events Katari ended up in the possession of a Tevinter slaver, still a infant less than a year old. Despite all the bad blood between the Qunari and the people of the Imperium and the fact that most of Tevinter's population is made up of slaves a Qunari slave, Vashoth or otherwise, was unheard of which is what made it so scandalous to have one and whenever a scandalous occasion arises there was one Magister that always managed to capitalize on it. Alexandra Landraus was a Magister that knew by being the center of attention was the best way to ensure her a seat in power and the best way to remain the center of attention was by breaking the norm. So it is not hard to imagine that she snapped at the chance to own a Oxman for herself, ensuring that her name to be on many more lips.

This is where Katari's story truly begins. He was raised like a show dog, being trained to both impress and intimidate other Magisters at the command of Alexandra. It wasn't until he was ten that things started to become truly interesting in his life for that was when his magical powers surfaced. Like always Alexandra took advantage of the situation and began to turn Katari into a symbol that stood against everything the Qun and the Qunari stood for. She began to train him in blood magic as well as the politics of the Imperium, two things the Qun strongly disagrees with. But the worst of Alexandra's teaching methods was placing Katari into the Arena. The Arena was a secret event were Magisters brought their slaves and made them fight to the death for sport and entertainment. Katari was a natural in combat and quickly raised to become the champion of the Arena, earning the nickname The Executor.

Despite all the power and training she gave him Katari resented Alexandra for how she treaed him, a mere tool used for the soul purpose of getting her more power among the Magisters. It wasn't till after years of servitude that Katari managed to escape Alexandra, though his escape was quite bloody and did not end well for many of Alexandra's personal guard. Katari has since wandered aimlessly, as surprising as it was no one wanted to house a random Oxman, little a lone one that was also a mage. He managed to make coin by doing random odd jobs he came upon, mostly dealing with bandits or cutthroats that were harassing a local village.

Appearance
Katari is a towering individual, standing at 7'3 in height, with a muscular body build. His skin is a dark bronze color and is racked with countless scars. His hair is long and pure silver in color while his eyes are bright amber. He has four black horns, two large ones that extend towards the back of his head and two smaller ones that curve forward. He wears black and crimson red leather robes with a black cloak. His right arm is covered in armor that ends in a clawed gauntlet.

Other
He was named Katari by Alexandra after his first arena battle, she thought it was funny. Up to that point she referred to him merely as "my pet"

[Dragonbud]

Name:

Panril Ashiva

Race:

Elf

Class:

Two Handed Warrior. Wields a sword that is nearly as long as her, Tank.

Appearance:



Personality:

Extremely fun-loving and childish. Panril is an extrovert – permanently friendly, forgives easily and considers everyone who she has met to be a friend. She is rather impulsive, jumping to conclusions or being the first one to run down a dangerous path. This is likely due to her high energy, which always seems to be unending. Her rather fun-loving nature makes her pleasant to be around. She is extremely loyal to whoever leads her, often carrying out tasks without second thought. And while all of this is rather fine, she can get extremely violent and rebellious when times call for it. She might seem like all fun and flowers, but she knows and loves to bash heads.

Despite her bright exterior, Panril suffers from low self-esteem. She constantly needs to be with friends to feel safe and comfortable, and fears a life alone. Panril has really bad abandonment issues. If you tell her you are going out to the store she will whip out the puppy-dog eyes until you take her along. She often wonders if her friends find her clingy and obnoxious and constantly fears their rejection. Panril is also extremely ashamed of her linage. She is a city Elf. Panril often feels out of place with the 'wild' elves, wishing she knew more of her people. She tries to sneak in elvish words whenever she can, but still feels nervous around other elves.

Backstory:

Panril always thought she knew her place in the world. She was born and raised in an elven alienage and knew no other life outside of a cramped apartment and humans spitting slurs at her. Her father was a cobbler and her mother sewed beautiful dresses, but Panril never had the privilege of wearing either. Panril herself was given a job at the Docks, hauling cargo all day to be payed measly bits. Her mother had left her clan in order to marry an elven apostate mage, whom was not permitted entrance to the clan because of his dabbles in blood magic. And so her mother and father were forced to live in an alienage. Panril knew that her mother was unhappy in the dismal and dirty conditions of their living space, but always kept a brave face.

Some of her most treasured memories was listening to her mother sing elven lullabies and tell her stories of the Creators. She was always acutely aware of the injustices against elves. Panril was never able to find a regular job. It was always mercenary and dirty work. She wasn't allowed to join the city guard, on claims that elves were a bit too fragile. Panril never found herself to be particularly stealthy, not finding pick pocketing to be her forte, and instead took a different direction when it came to her weapon of choice. She figured if she couldn't live on finesse, she would aim to deal as much damage as possible with as big of a sword as she could carry.

But a disturbance in the monotony of life would soon arrive. One day Templars arrived in the alienage, demanding that all mages were to come out of hiding. They threatened that anyone found harboring a Mage would be arrested. Panrils father, not wanting to cause trouble for his wife and child, turned himself in. Despite him being a blood Mage the Templars decided to show 'mercy' to him. Instead of executing him he was made tranquil. Panril watched as all of the life was drained from his face, and he was moved to the Gallows to sell goods.

After this Panril became a lot more reckless. She took on more dangerous mercenary jobs. She found the adrenaline rush was good at distracting her from the pain of losing her father. And while she was still the excitable and happy elf, she started to doubt herself more. She stopped making relationships with anyone. She only spoke to her mother, who she thought was the only good thing left in her life, and rarely was seen during the day. Even after the mages were granted their freedom Panril was left nervous.

Skills:

Pommel Strike: You lash out with a fast strike that briefly stuns your target.

Mighty Blow: You deliver a powerful attack that crumples foes, leaving them knocked down for a short time

Whirlwind: You spin with your weapon outstretched, cutting through any enemies in your path.

[Argetlam350]

Zeynep Sihir

Name:
Tal-Vashoth Zeynep Sihir

Age:
26

Race:
Qunari

Class:
Saarebas (Qunari Mage), more specific her prowess is being a Force Mage.

Appearance:

Her attire:

Except she has a shirt or some form of clothing underneath that covers her stomach.



Items:
Her polearm which doubles as her catalyst of dishing out the magic she knows.



Bio:
Zeynep was born Par Vollen and like all other qunari children, was sent to be raised by the Tamassrans of the capitol city, Qunandar. For a time she led the normal life that is expected of all qunari children, and of course would of more then likely have become one of the Tamassrans as well until the day came that she showed that she was cursed with the use of magic. When it was found out that she was plagued by this curse, she was removed from the care of the Tamassrans and placed in the care of an arvaarad, she became a saarebas. Those that she had come to know as brothers and sisters, the only form of family she would ever had, rejected her and she soon lost all contact to the world around her. Under the care of her arvaarad, she became nothing more then a social outcast due to the fear of magic that the Qun had. Zeynep learned to not speak at all after watching a fellow saarebas have his own tongue cut out of his mouth due to the accusation of that saarebas practicing magic while his arvaarad was not looking. She never spoke only gave nods and head shakes to questions or to show she was listening. She was lucky enough to be sparred from having her horns removed, making an agreement with her arvaarad that allowed her to keep her horns.
Zeynep eventually fooled them all that she was nothing more then a submissive servant, all the while she planned her escape. She might of not spoke but she secretly taught herself magic, it was never an easy task but she taught herself enough to have a means of escape. Eventually the time came where she could run, leave the Qun and become Tal-Voshoth. She never wanted to return to Par Vollen, there was nothing for here there to stay and she cursed the place for her exile from society and treatment which was no better then being an attack dog.
When the night came of her escape, she manage to slip by her arvaarad, asleep like a babe, never expecting that Zeynep would try such a feat. She would never know how long it took for them to discover her escape but it did not matter. She ran south, only stopping when necessary. She could not remain in one place for long, there was no knowing if she was being hunted down as she ran, if she was caught it would only mean death.
Once she managed to get as far as Orlais, that was when she took time to stop. She hid herself among the shadows of the city, finally cutting away the strand of strings that kept her mouth sown shut, not enough to entirely keep her from opening it but enough that it had been able to prevent most talking above a whisper, to finally hear her own voice again shocked her. She had not heard it in years since she had become saarebas, now though she was free of that accursed title and free to learn to speak the native tongue of Thedas. She had to learn on her own for quite some time, listening and piecing what everything meant. She learned a lot from her time in Orlais. Eventually though she left Orlais and continued south, coming to the Free Marches and finding herself in the city of chains, Kirkwall. Here she sold herself off as a mercenary for hire, what else could she do? She had no useful skills besides the little knowledge of magic she had, being able to at least be a mercenary for hire allowed her to learn more about other cultures, the language that most spoke, and at least a little more magic. Her time in Orlais as well as Kirkwall left her feeling slightly jealous of the people she saw. How they had so much freedom to choose their paths they desired, something she never had. Even the Circle of Magi she looked with awe as well, seeing how the mages were treated.
Despite her awe though, she still holds some ideals of the Qun and finds that most people are, for lack of a better term, weak and gets agitated by those that take the little things they have for granted. She also frowns upon those mages that would make deals with demons, seeing them as weak and unfit for the life they have.

Skills:
Fist of the Maker- The mage slams enemies into the ground with incredible power, against which armor is no protection.
Stonefist- The mage hurls a stone projectile that strikes with massive force.
Chain Lightning- The mage singes a target with lightning, and electrical arcs lance out to hit other nearby foes.
Hex of Torment- The mage curses the enemy, increasing damage from all sources for a short time.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Gavlan Drogoth

Name:
Gavlan Drogoth

Age:
42

Species:
Dwarf

Class:
Beserker Warrior

Appearance:


His attire:



Items:
His armor on his back and his mighty axe that is named Luca



Bio:
Gavlan grew up at first as a trader of Orzammar. His trade was that in weapons and armor with an occasional dabble of the other markets when he could afford to do so. Unfortunately Gavlan ran into tough times and was forced into making deals with a group of thugs that were called the Carta. His involvement lead to a slight relationship with the gang's leader Jarvia. The relationship didn't last long however with Jarvia pressing him to do more illegal actions then he wanted to. For his disobedience, his shop was destroyed and the law enforcement of Orzammar got an anonymous tip of his dealings with Carta. For his punishment it was either going to jail, becoming casteless, or going into the Deep Roads on expeditions. His choice was the Deep Roads. This was when he began learning his fighting prowess. From other warriors, either other criminals forced into the expeditions for punishment or Orzammars guards who volunteered for these dangerous jobs. Orzammar was the last Thaig and it was determined to not fall, in order to do that, they had to thin Darkspawn from time to time. These expedition were also used to traverse to lost Thaigs and find anything that might be of use to Orzammar, be it ancient texts or miscellaneous items that could fetch a price being sold to the outside world above Orzammar.
Even after his punishment was deemed over, he continued going on the expeditions into the Deep Roads, partially because it meant finding rare items he could sneak back to Orzammar and sell for some coin and partially because he enjoyed the fighting, he learned he had a knack of using an axe and fighting Darkspawn gave him some pleasure and entertainment. Plus he made friends in his merry band of outcasts who also continued these expeditions. They shared in good laughs and mead. Unfortunately all good things come to an end. While on one expedition into the Deep Roads, they were ambushed by Darkspawn. Gavlan was the only one to make it out alive. He feared that perhaps returning to Orzammar would not be a wise decision. All the men in the expedition were considered criminals, even if Gavlan had repaid his dues to society for his supposed crimes. Rather the return he looked for a means of leaving the Deep Road. It took him days to find one of the exits of the Deep Roads, but he did and found himself far from the mountain range of Orzammar that he called home. He felt like he was going to fall off the realm of Thedas with how open the world was. He had no idea where he was only where he couldn't go. So he made his way north, passing though Orlais, Nevarra, and the Free Marches before stopping in Kirkwall. Here is when he meant his partner in crime. Zeynep the Qunari mage. At first neither saw eye to eye on anything. Always bickering back and forth on how things should be done. Eventually though they found the means to get along and even enjoy each others company. Both were social outcasts. She a qunari mage and him an dwarf with no home. They used their talents to be hired out as mercenaries or smugglers in Kirkwall and soon Gavlan was well know for being a guy that could smuggle just about anything into Kirkwall's walls.

Skills:
His combat skills lie in two handed weapons, specifically he deals with great axes and great hammer weapons. Who says the small guy can pack a powerful punch to his foes? Gavlan skills as a warrior come from his years of training as being an enforcer of the laws in Orzammar as well as having to occasionally be sent into the Deep Roads with his fellow comrades when told too.
Beserk- The berserker flies into a rage, landing powerful blows for as long as this mode is active.
Mighty Blow- The warrior leaps into the air, crashing down on foes with tremendous force.
Giants Reach- The warrior's two-handed attacks rip through the air with such power that each generates a shockwave past the point of impact, effectively extending the weapon's reach.

[WildCobra]

Name: Colt Le Cabon

Race: Human

Class: Rouge - Tempest Archer

Appearance:

Personality: Your 'charming' and friendly person is just one way of describing Colt. Others that have ventured along side him have said other wise like a scandalous-cheating-bastard all in together in one word and that is just scratching the tip of the iceberg. There a few though who truly know what he's like, but even those few would say the same thing as everyone else. Colt considers himself a womanizer having taken his fair share of bedding those of his kind, as well his own. Aside from the joy of pleasure, he's rather finds himself telling of his conquest and stories of where he's been greatly over exaggerating his accomplishments to which more then half the time it usually ends up coming right back and biting him in the arse.

When it comes to tending to task and various other dealings, he follows a saying that has given him his reputation today: "All for one and one for all." Following this has been part of some of his downfalls that have lead to his capture of more then once, but he somehow always finds a way out of captivity, always. If you manage to gain his friendship Colt, without a doubt, will always watch your back, even if the circumstances are completely out the preferred favor.

Backstory: Colt doesn't really know where he was born. Being raised up on the island of Llomerryn, in the town of Little Llomerryn, you had to learn to live to fend and fight for your own because if you didn't you'd be considered nothing. He adapted to this lifestyle and began seeing it a daily routine in his life, though not without a few scars as proof of the hardships he went through, but he made the best of it trying to implement his way of fun while keeping his head held above the rough lifestyle. Now though, those scars he's gained maturing pale in comparison to the Raider way of life.

Any ship that wasn't apart of the Raiders of the Waking Sea was fair game. Trade, merchant, and mercenary ships alike were all up for grabs to be plundered and looted of their priceless artifacts and treasures. Colt had a thrill doing it, until everything took a turn as they targeted their first and last Qunari Dreadnought along the Storm Coast. The entire crew of the Golden Fire had been captured and they sunk the ship to the bottom of the dark sea. They lined up his crew in front of him and executed them all. Then they sliced open Colt's neck and left him to bleed and rot out in the sand for the feeble attack, but little did they know he survived the death blow that surely should've ended his life. It is unknown how or who managed to mend his wounds let alone still able to talk and breath well, but he has since covered scaring wound with a tattoo, not more so in remembrance of his crew, but to the fearfulness that ran deep within him that he might have a run-in with those Qunari from that faithful day.

Skills:
*Flask of Lighting - This flask sends Colt into a heightened state of incredible speed. Everyone on the battlefield except him moves much more slowly for a short time.

*Long Shot - He fires a powerful single shot that delivers more damage the farther you are from the target.

*Leaping Shot - He flips backwards out of trouble and fires a hail of arrows at the enemies that were closing in.

*Full Drawn - It takes a moment for him to line up the perfect shot, but it pays off with a devastating hit that bites even deeper against enemies that aren't injured yet.

[AiyvaGuard]

|Name| Acaela Nonae
|Race| Elf
|Class| "Spirit Healer " - Mage

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Personality| Acaela is a quiet soul, enjoying books more than anything. She is passive, and a loving elf to those in need. She's naive and believes everything can be better. Practicing Healing has made her more sympathetic and empathic to others, caring is her main trait and always cares for others and only the actions of others will judge how things will change between her and the other.

Backstory|
Born in the town of Lothering, her mother a simple merchant and her father a guardsman. Acaela enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere within the village area. Lothering always covered in clouds, raining softly as she sits inside the cottage listening to the sounds of rain. Life was good until her father was murdered. A raid began in Lothering, during the night a band of bandits stormed in sneakily making there ways to the guards. " I'll always protect you. " Seemingly a multitude of guards were killed and one of the guards was her father. His last words ended with him stabbing the last bandit and yet dying by the blade of his victim. Her mother tried to keep a happy face after the incident, she always trembled to tears when she was always and putting on a fake smile when her daughter, Acaela was around. Acaela learned spirit healing as a young one, her father always told her to help others in need and that's what she exactly did. Magic always mesmerized Acaela and the fact that it could heal wounds made her even more determined to master it. Sadly, her mother died by old age Acaela was a fully grown adult at the time...death didn't worry her though, thinking that if she practiced more she could revive the dead...but that was a failure at the attempts to revive her mother she only drained her energy. Broken, broken into multiple shards...but she forgot the bad things in her life and continued on, leaving Lothering, continuing her life as an adventure.

Skills|

• Healing Aura| A sheet of light surrounds the users allies that are nearby, continuously healing them for only ten seconds.
• Pulse| Multiple pulses of light comes from the users weapons or hands, healing those nearby the user, though it is not as effective as healing aura.
• Direct Heal| The user touches the injured one, using incantations to heal the injured one. Direct heal uses large amounts of energy since it heals impalement's and maybe broken bones (if allowed. )
• Healing| This can heal small wounds, and takes less energy. It might be useful but in cases its just a spell to heal plants or something along those lines.
• Slow| The user will conjure a beam of ice, shooting it towards the opponent slowing them and also freezing them on contact, depending on how powerful they maybe varies the effects.

Soon to be skills? Maybe? Or naaaah?

• Revive| This is an extreme spell, reviving the dead at last second, binding there wounds and attracting there souls back into the victims body.
• Print| A additional skill for healing pulse, the user uses print to only have them being healed. So if your teammates were in battle, print would be used to only heal your teammates and yourself.
• Ice Shield| The user stabs there staff into the ground, ice quickly forming in front of the user to create an ice shield.
• Dome| The user clusters magic energy together around them self or there teammates, creating a dome of ice around him/her or them. The dome is strong depending on the user and can break varying the opponents skill.
• Create| A ice power, passive and maybe useful in combat. A skill that allows the user to create an object with ice and requires less power.

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Outfit

Staff