[CHAR] The Eyes of the Inquisition

[El Taco Taco]

Inquisition Scout Adarun Marlen.

Noble Casteless Dwarf.

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In another life, Adarun would have been a Shaper, would have married a respectable noble and born him children, and she would never have left Orzammar. And had she not met a Grey Warden and heard of the mysteries of the surface, she'd have never seen the sun. Curiosity tempted her to the world above and locked the gates of Orzammar behind her.

After a few months topside, Adarun fell in with the Coterie and spent the next several years lending her sharp mind and blades to the pursuit of profit. The Breach was The Absolute Worst--after growing impatient with the surface's rather Dwarven politicking, Adarun answered the Inquisition's call at first word. At least someone is trying to fix shit.

Compact, yet dense with muscle, Adarun is surprisingly nimble. She wears her pale blonde hair shaved close on the left and in a practical bob. Her skin is pale and rather prone to burns and freckling. A thin scar bisects her face below blue eyes. Adarun has a rather bad case of resting bitch face, and a fondness for Dwarven jewelry.

[Thorned Hammer]

Scout Kivalien

A Dalish elf, Kivalien (or Kiv as he often has people address him) was a warrior in his clan for many years roaming the Free Marches. He would have been pleased to have things stay that way, always having been a fan of the simple and straightforwardness of that sort of life despite it's hardships. but things became complicated when it was discovered that his younger brother was gifted with magic. His clan already at their limit of mages, and there being no others in the area in need of one, Kiv's brother was to be abandoned in the wild to the elements. Kiv protested this decision and left the clan with him, refusing to follow what he claimed was a 'stupid and savage' law. A side effect of his outburst made him a bit unpopular with the other clans.
For awhile, he and his brother made their way through the Free Marches and to Fereldan. Unfortunately his brother, who had always been a bit sickly and not of the strongest constitution, died shortly after their arrival in the South. Unable to return to the Clans and not having anywhere else to go, Kiv became a mercenary and began to travel through Fereldan and Orlais in an attempt to find some sort of purpose. And then the sky exploded, the Inquisition was reformed, and Kivalien found himself in Haven.
A lanky elf with odd amber eyes, Kivalien's hair is cut short and is of a dark brown reddish color. One of his eyebrows is parted by a scar, and his facial tattoo is also parted above the eye in continuation of the scar. His tattoo is a dark crimson red and if I can Ill find a way to get a picture of the style he has up on here. Im kinda scrambling for pictures.

[Thorned Hammer]

Scout Daltyn

A native of Redcliff, Daltyn has lived a pretty mellow and standard life until things between the Mages and Templars heated up. When the violence began affecting the people of the Hinterlands and threatening his friends and family, he aligned himself with the Rebel Mages in Redcliff who seemed to be more willing to spare innocent civilians.
Acting as a lookout and a saboteur (Rouge class) he worked with a few of the more compassionate mages to keep Templars and bandits who wandered to close to Redcliff at bay and away from refugees or locals. Eventually he left Redcliff for haven when the mage opinions became to radical for him and their goals clearly changed from protecting to killing as many Templars as they could find. No longer wanting to be a part of it, he volunteered to join the Inquisition in hopes of bringing some sanity back to the Hinterlands.

[El Taco Taco]

Inquisition Scout Leigh Sartori

Former Enchanter of the Dairsmuid Circle, Apostate.

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Leigh was born to a Seer of great esteem in Afsaana, the youngest of four. He spent his childhood at his mother's robes, learning from the wisdom of the spirits she channeled as he fumbled with magic. He chased after his siblings, exploring the docks and the valleys of Rivain. His fascination with martial magic was encouraged by his mentors in the Circle. Dairsmuid's leniency allowed him to accompany mercenaries at sea, where he further honed his combative magic. Leigh's grandmother, a pillar of Afsaana's community, arranged his marriage to a fellow mage, Renee. He settled down and took on apprentices in the Circle.

No one expected the Divine to annul Dairsmuid. The Templars hunted and slew men and women he had spent his whole life learning alongside, even going so far as to imprison those in the community that harbored them. This sparked outrage in Rivain and talks of war in the nobility. When news of the Conclave arrived, Rivaini's royalty assembled an envoy to attend. Renee was one of the few Dairsmuid survivors to accompany their diplomats, charged with bringing the injustice of their annulment--and Rivain's willingness to go to war over the slaughter-- to Conclave. Their envoy did not survive the explosion.

Infuriated, Leigh and several of his remaining countrymen went West, determined to find answers and revenge. Leigh was swept up in the mage rebellion and baffled to find a world where mages were feared. News of the Inquisition has reached many of the rebel mages, and Leigh is cautiously considering joining their forces. After all, they seem to be the only power willing to oppose the Templars that butchered his people.

Leigh is a tall, swarthy man, with calloused hands from his youth at sea. With crows feet forming at the corners of his pale eyes, he is beginning to show the exhaustion of the past two years. Significantly tattooed and pierced in the customs of the Rivaini, he cuts a striking figure in Fereldan. Leigh carries a heavily decorated staff, with rough hunks of minerals, feathers, and gold inlay crafted lovingly into an impressive arcane focus.

[El Taco Taco]

Inquisition Scout Orielle Anthea

City Elf Mercenary

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Denerim was a bit of a shit place to grow up. By the time she reached seventeen, Orielle had already survived a purge, Tevinter slavers, the Fifth Blight, and a bout of pneumonia. The Alienage was decidedly worse for the wear, and while the rest of the city was quickly rebuilt, her home was mostly left to rot.

Orielle was not having any of that. Nicking a bow from unattended wares, she made her way to the Pearl and forced her way into the employ of the Blackstone Irregulars.

Which, surprisingly, worked.

Mercenary life was a hell of a lot better than sitting around the Alienage, waiting to get married off. Having coin and freedom for the first time in her life was strange as shite, but absolutely brilliant. Having enough food to eat was worth every job staining her hands red for the highest bidder.

Of course, then the Conclave happened. The world was back on the brink of ending.

Not this shit again.

At least this end of days brought work with it. The Irregulars journeyed west, hired to protect a caravan of supplies meant for Haven. Several of their number made their goodbyes and signed on with the burgeoning Inquisition. Orielle hadn’t meant to join up—but she’d seen the scores of demons decimating the country side, and she couldn’t help but remember being fifteen and hiding from darkspawn. How could she not?

On the tall side for an elven woman, Orielle is best described as lanky. Despite having put on some much needed weight, her cheeks are still just a little too hollow, her features sharpened from years of near-starvation. Despite this, there’s something sickeningly sweet about her—doe eyed and incapable of scowling, Orielle seems out of place on the battlefield. The flowers she likes to weave into her dark braid don’t help her case.