Name:Obsidian
Race:Golem
Nationality/Birthplace: Previously Dwarf, Orzammar
Attributes: Understanding,intimidating,reckless
Before the first blight there was a dwarf named Bredden,and he was born into the famous house Gaelic, a house that was famous for it's rune crafter's. Usually working with the kings men enchanting their weapons and armour. Another family, house Ooders were jealous of house Gaelics position. They decided to bring the rival family down a few pegs. They forged some documents that stated they were participating in a plot to overthrow the king. This did more than what it was supposed to.
Nobody in the family was spared, except for one, Bredden who was on deep roads expedition. When he got back he was apprehended. Set to be executed that very night. If it weren't for his friend Jurak, he was a nobleman's son who was with Bredden during the expedition. While Bredden stayed in his cell Jurak voted that Bredden be turned into a golem to repay his family's sentence by serving the king.
It was all set to happen, the golem making was almost complete.Jurak stole the control rod for his golem friend, they both escaped a few nights later. Jurak led Obsidian into a secluded forest area, he told the golem to stay there. Jurak dropped the control rod and fled into the surface world, leaving Obsidian to stand there. Many years later a human picked up the rod. He brought his new golem home to his mansion
The next few years for Obsidian were a blur to him, just wandering from town to town with his new master doing what ever his evil master wanted him to, watching many people get sold off to the highest bidder and not able to do nothing. Until one day he and his master were taking a stroll through the forest which came up on his masters land, it was quiet for the most part, until shouts and sounds of swords being drawn filled the air as a young girl was running towards Obsidian. She tackled the master, stealing the rod and then breaking it, she asked Obsidian to help her and he obliged, crushing the men. The girl was a Dalish elf, recently stolen from her clan and sold to some slavers, her name was Drashdy. They became great friends, Obsidian followed her until she would get back to her clan.
Once they reached her clan, Obsidian was immediately greeted by hostility, even the tale of how Obsidian saved her wasn't enough to allow him to stay. He had to leave, Obsidian fled into the forest near the camp,Drashdy would sometimes visit Obsidian when she was on patrol in the forests. One day Obsidian waited for her, but she never came. He went to see her instead, what he saw wasn't what he expected. The camp was in ruins, humans were in the clan square, with all the women of the clan. Obsidian charged in, there were many, and he stood a good chance against them, bust among them was a very experienced mage. He froze Obsidian there for a month. When the spell was over Obsidian did everything he could to try and pick up a trail. But he found nothing, he then remembered where he first met Drashdy, he headed there. On his travels he met a giant tree, this tree was wise, he wouldn't say his name just that he was a friend. The tree knew of him and his quest, the tree called his efforts fruitless, but Obsidian wouldn't give up. The tree pointed out that they were many and he was just one. The tree said he would help him. if the golem would let the tree teach him. Obsidian reluctantly agreed.
The trading was more mental than physical. He realized that he couldn't remember why he was a golem. He remembers the deep roads expedition he went on, and his childhood, the hearing of his execution. But then he just remembers waking up as a golem. The tree taught him that it was better not to remember, the past is the past it would say. After the many weeks of training the tree presented Obsidian with an amulet, the tree said that it was what he picked off the body of Drashdy after they executed then rest of her clan. Obsidian was furious with the tree, but could not crush the tree. He took the amulet, and wondered what he would do now?. The tree told him of a darkness that was approaching, and a taint that would sweep across the land, the tree told him his destiny was to go to the human built fortress of Ostagar, to help aid the humans.
The day he reached Ostagar he was greeted by hostility, but he then explained himself. he was allowed to stay to help against the blight but that was all.
Personality: Obsidian is a quiet golem, usually only talking when spoken too. Obsidian is also very polite and tries to solve things peacefully rather than violently. Obsidian does everything he can to help his friends, no matter what it is, he will usually help you if he feels the task isn't something evil that can hurt innocent people.
Skills: Speech, Unarmed combat,Survival (forest),Rune crafting,smithing and herbalism
Knack: armour runes, Obsidian has a knack for rune smithing, especially armour runes, he is exceptionally good at rune smithing, but armour runes are his water to his lime stone.
Combat style (nonmages only): HIS GIANT ROCK FIST. So over sized weapons really.
Equipment: A neckless that the tree elder gav to him.
Advantages: One With Nature: Being frozen in the forest for so long, then living with a giant tree for a long time has made his presence known in nature, this giving extra bonuses when fighting in forests. When he is in neeyd the ancient Dalish amulet glows a bright green which empowers him.(just think of him doing extra nature damage).
Specialization: NA
Flaw(s): heat: since he is made of rock extreme heat can be fatal because he will begin to melt. His size, being his size he has many blind spots, mostly behind him. Also he isn't very sneaky
Name: Serina Mahariel
Race: Elf
Nationality/Birthplace: Dalish; The outskirts of the Heartlands
Attributes:
Intelligence
Speed
Endurance
Appearance: Standing at a slight 5'3" and weighing only 109 lbs, Serina is a proper example of her svelte race. Her shoulders and hips are the exact opposite of broad and when she walks it is as though she is on air. Her hair is long and black, which she typically keeps down and out of her eyes with a circlet. Her eyes are deep and dark brown, the color of sap drawn from mesquite trees as her sister always told her. Her skin is pale but she doesn't burn in the sunlight.
Reference Picture [+]
Background: My version of the history of Mahariel will be completed over the weekend. :/ Sorry, but I've got work.
Personality: Serina is a pleasant young woman, who is kind and understanding but also practical and calculating. On a personal basis, she is quick to help others with a smile and negated payment, but she knows that she can't save everyone and there are more important matters than the safety of every single peasant. She is one who believes the end can justify the mean, but she is always thinking of the best way to handle any situation. She works well with others, as long as they are not too greedy. She is strongly opposed to any and all racist toward elves, and while she tries her hardest to keep their main goals in mind, plights that involve her race grab her attention without fail.
Skills:
Stealth
Survival
Herbalism
Apothecary/Alchemy
Concentration(a mage skill that means she isn't easily interrupted when she's spellcasting, hope that's cool)
Knack:
Steel Resolve - A subset of concentration, Serina can ignore environmental and physical status effects in order to keep casting. She can keep concentration in burning or collapsing buildings, or on a rapidly moving surface. She can momentarily ignore deep, or even, sometimes, otherwise-debilitating wounds depending on their placement, to continue a spell. She can concentrate through wounds, sickness, or other effects such as dizziness, fear, nausea, or other kind of befuddlement.
Spells:
*Heal - "The caster causes flesh to knit miraculously, instantly healing an ally by a moderate amount."
*Mind Blast - "The caster projects a wave of telekinetic force that stuns enemies caught in the sphere."
Unique Spell Line: Call Nature's Allies [+]
Equipment:
Dalish Robes - Robes that do little in way of physical protection, but mark her as one of the People.
Elm Bark Staff - A staff made from the medicinal elm tree, it deals nature damage and helps to channel healing spells. (uhh this doesn't have to be an actual mechanic, just lore)
Small Lyrium Potion x2
Ruby Circlet - Listed below
Advantages:
Ruby Circlet - A circlet that once belong to Mahariel's father, it was given to her on her last day in the Clan by her adoptive mother. It is copper and bronze with a large inlaid ruby that rest on her forehead. The circlet gives her a bonus mana regeneration.
Specialization: N/A
Flaw:
Cultural Gap - Although understanding, Serina is new to the wold of humans. She doesn't know much about human lore, culture, religion, or other unifying themes of humankind. She does not understand certain speech mannerisms and she relies on her human comrades in the face of political issues. She doesn't always understand inflections or word play, and sometimes the way she words things confuses or offends people. It is hard for her to get far in populated places without help of someone who is used to streets. When left to fend for herself, it is not uncommon for her to make people upset over her inability to completely understand a situation that has cultural ties. She can also annoy people her her curious questioning on human culture.
Name: Edward
Race: Human
Nationality/Birthplace: Ferelden
Attributes: Cunning, Violent and Adaptable
Background: Thus far Edward hasn't done anything really special with his life. He was born and raised in the Poor Quarter of Denerim, his father doing what he could to raise the young boy well despite the very imperfect circumstances. His father didn't really have a trade but was nevertheless a very hard working man and picked up every job he could whenever he could. This meant that over a period of years he became skilled at a whole range of things but never really specialized in anything. As he grew Edward believed that to be a mistake but respected his fathers skill anyway, not really understanding why a man as skilled as his father was couldn't get a long term job in the market. His age making him naïve.
As Edward grew he too became skilled and his father planned to use the connections he had made over the years to call in a favour and get his son an apprenticeship under one of the traders in the marketplace. Unfortunately that time would never come. It was always a risky business being a handyman in a place where laissez-faire was the de-facto way of doing things, but Edward never thought it would be the cause of his fathers death. One day his father did a job for someone, there was a disagreement on payment, that disagreement lead to his fathers death. That was all there was to it really, there was no dramatic revenge, nothing. It happened, no one felt like anything wrong had gone on really, people refused to pay for what they called shoddy work all the time. Sure, everyone his father had ever worked for over the years had said that he had never done a bad bit of work in his life but in the end it was a middle-classed merchant versus a lower-class poor man and the guards sure as hell weren't getting involved in that. Life went on.
Without his fathers many skills and no friends that were in a position to help him out a eleven year old Edward started doing what the majority of the Poor Quarter kids do at one point or another. He started thieving. He was terrible at it at first and in the first couple of years of his new career he was on the receiving end of more beatings than he cared to remember. Eventually his skill grew though, he learnt new tactics and was pretty damn fast both in mind and body. Soon thieving was making him enough to support himself, both food and shelter wise, though as he grew older the danger of getting caught grew as well. Most people were willing to let a scrawny kid off with a bit of a beating and a talking to, but when it came to adults what little mercy they had straight up disappeared, by the time he was seventeen being caught meant getting a hand cut off or worse. It just wasn't worth it.
It was around then that Edward decided to try his hand at back alley fighting. It was brutal, no holds barred action with the contestants beating seven shades of shit out of each other before the end of the bouts. Why would someone like Edward want to get in on this? One, there was a lot of money to be made in it. Merchants, drunks, even guards paid good money to watch two men beat the hell out of each other. Two, aside from the battering you took in the fight there was no more risk to it. The guards watched the damn things and no one else could care less about poor people killing each other. So Edward got in on it and soon found himself being beaten bloody in a bout.
Amazingly he managed to win that first fight though. At sixteen years of age he beat a fifty something bloke down and won his first bout, proving that with his great amount of speed, his quick mind and an unfortunate capacity for violence this was actually an open opportunity for him. He couldn't get cocky though, if the rumours were to be believed the man he had fought had been a drunk and that meant he still wasn't anything to take seriously in the eyes of the crowd. The next week he won again though and as the years passed he probably won three out of every five fights. Yeah, he took savage beatings quite regularly but few contestants could match him in terms of speed and violence.
By the time he met Duncan he was a celebrity in the back alley fighting industry in Denerim, now even taking part in occasional fights to the death where weapons would be drawn in a lottery type thing at the beginning and you were expected to kill with whatever you got. People actually began to pay him to come and get paid in their own special fights. Of course everything went to shit one day when some young buck around Edward's age stepped into the ring boasting about superior training and being able to beat any man there. He wasn't without skill, that was for sure, but he fought too cleanly, the type of fighting done by one with buckets of training by no real pain and experience to back it. He certainly wasn't expecting Edward to bite his ear off or even head-butt him. The man had entered a world he didn't know and had drawn a very short straw. By the end of the fight he was on the ground shivering, bleeding badly and not being able to breathe properly due to his panicking. How was Edward supposed to know he was some noble? It wasn't like they wore name-tags. Before he knew it though he was being seized by the guards and beaten senseless. That was when he met Duncan, who stepped in and invoked The Right of Conscription. That is how Edward ended up in Ostagar.
Personality: The easiest and most basic way to describe Edward would be to say he is a survivor. Quite basically Edward does whatever he needs to in order to insure his best chance of survival. If he's low on money like he has been for the majority of his life for example he'll find a way to get some money, whether that be through thieving, fighting or killing. If he had a trade he might actually make a living that way but as it is all he really excels at is violence and so he uses that as his go to skill to survive. He is someone who is very much a practical and is typically only interested in whatever he thinks will get the job done. He likes to be set on a course and be there to see it through and is certainly not one for too much deliberating.
When it comes to being social Edward is surprisingly adept but not quite what anyone would call outgoing. He has kept few friends over the years but the ones in which he has kept he genuinely cares for. He is a loyal man if only he feels that the same loyalty has been shown to him. Despite his often cold demeanour he does value the friendship of others, not that he himself would ever tell anyone as much.
When it comes to morality Edward is very much in a grey area. He doesn't see the point of or like seeing people being needlessly cruel but believes people have to do what they have to do to achieve their objectives. Overall Edward is a confident individual who is surprising intelligent despite his lack of education.
Skills: Unarmed Combat, Streetwise, Coercion, Pickpocketing, Duel Weapons and Dodging
Knack: Coercion. Years of brutal fighting and day to day survival have given Edward a menacing aura, giving his words and actions more weight than they would usually carry.
Combat style: Edward's combat style is a rare mix of brute force and deadly finesse. He wears a Cestus on his left hand in which he uses like a boxing glove on steroids to stun and sometimes even kill his opponents. In his other hand he typically holds a Dagger in which he quickly and efficiently brings to vulnerable kill and maim spots after savagely beating and stunning his opponents with the Cestus. It is a brutal but effective fighting style, against humans at least.
Equipment: Edward was forced to leave Denerim quickly after the incident with the noble and the guards. He currently owns little more than the clothes on his back. He did manage to keep a hold of his trusty Cestus however for it is hard to lose something quite literally bound to your hand.
Advantages: Desensitization. Years of experiencing brutality at such a young age has worn on Edward psychologically to the point that violence, danger and even death no longer effect him mentally or emotionally in the way that they should. To be specific this doesn't mean that Edward doesn't fear death but rather that he is likely to be completely calm in the face of it. In the midst of danger no strong emotion grips him, leaving him completely calm for the most part and able to observe the battlefield or whatever else and take action unhindered by the things most people would be held back by. Obviously this is pretty damn useful in the action as well, allowing Edward to perform mostly on reflex and knowledge instead of fear.
Specialization: N/Y/A
Flaw(s): Edward is now technically an outlaw after beating a relatively powerful Noblemen's son half to death so that may cause him quite a bit of trouble when it comes to the guards in certain areas. Aside from that he is audacious, callous, fierce, hard, illiterate, impious, indifferent, pessimistic, reckless and tactless. All of which make him that little bit more of a shitty person to somebody.
Joras Telrik
Race: Human
Nationality/Birthplace: Ferelden born and bred.
Attributes:
1) Aggression
2) Dexterity
3) Machiavellian
Background: Joras was born on a clear, starry night, to a proud and wealthy arl, whose love of his wife could only be matched by love of his country. The baby Joras was swaddled in soft blankets before being anointed by the mother that was in attendance. The babe gave no cries, and as the precious oils were swabbed on his forehead, the arl knew his boy would grow to become a strong, loyal Ferelden, destined to have a strong voice in the landsmeet, and who would bring honor and glory to their home.
He uh, was pretty far off.
Joras grew to become an intelligent enough child. He could grasp the lessons taught by his tutors after a bit of explanation, but there was no spark of genius. Force him to read a tome and he could repeat back the main idea, make him study a map and he was able to roughly place the cities and landmarks. His father’s ambitions of his son’s future glories were not shaken though, an arl could have advisors to assist him in administration, what a nobleman needed was strength of arms.
And strength of arms Joras had in abundance. Like all good Ferelden noblemen, he started his martial training at a very young age, wielding a lead-weighted sword in one hand and a buckler in the other. He was quick on his feet, even when weighed down with training armor. His father loved to watch his son spar, and envisioned him carrying the family banner into battle, cutting down Orlesian scum left and right.
By the age of thirteen, Joras abandoned the buckler and picked up a second training sword. With two blades in his hands he could strike twice as much, making him a ferocious opponent to face. By fifteen he could match almost anyone his age, and many more that were older. Those with the proper training however, could notice his flaw, he struck quickly and aggressively, and although his form was excellent, it would turn sloppy as . When Joras fought, he went in for the kill.
A strong enough mind, and masterful skill at arms, it would have seemed like Joras would be a fantastic arl to carry on his father’s legacy. Unfortunately, Joras was an aggressive child. At twelve, he broke the boy who filled his cup’s nose for some minor reason. At fourteen, he was found on top of a servant, beating him senseless. The other incidents were kept quiet with the right word and coin from the arl.
It wasn’t that the boy was necessarily an angry person, he simply loved the fight. He loved to hurt, to inflict pain when he could. In a desperate attempt to curb the boy’s appetites, his father brought him on numerous hunting trips and encouraged his martial training. A particularly good hunt would keep Joras still for a while, but he always returned to his violent ways.
The older Joras grew, the more it became apparent that these were more than the makings of merely an aggressive warrior. Many men left battle feeling alive, they enjoyed the blood rush and the adrenaline that pumped through their veins, but Joras was frightening. He fought with a smile on his face, enjoying every blow that glanced off his armor, every moment his blades struck an enemy’s flesh, and even the cuts that would crisscross his skin from a foe’s weapons.
There was no way around it. It wasn’t just combat that Joras craved. It was violence.
Luckily for his father, a second son had been born. Joras’s sibling was everything that he failed to be. Kind where he was cruel. Patient where he was quick. Forgiving where he was aggressive. He was loved by his tutors for his ability to pick up his lessons in no time at all, and although his skill at arms left something to be desired, he could make a fine arl.
With his brother being groomed in order to take control of their father’s lands and estates, Joras was approached by his father and given an ultimatum. He was going to abandon all claims to their family’s land, give up the title of heir, and enlist in the Grey Wardens, where his skill in combat could be of use to their fellow Fereldens. If he did not, then he would find himself on a hunt one day, with a loosened saddle, and he would fall from his horse, and break his neck. His father was a loyal man, a veteran of the war against Orlais, and Joras in command of the house would mean a weaker Ferelden.
The commander of the Grey Wardens accepted the arl’s request to place his son in their ranks. Joras drank deep from the cup that contained the darkspawn blood and lyrium, and survived his Joining. Now, Joras finds himself as Ostagar, knows only one thing.
Darkspawn can feel pain, and he can’t wait to see how much they can take before they scream.
Personality: Sadistic is one word to describe Joras Telrik. The concept of pain holds great appeal to him, particularly if he is the one inflicting it on someone else. To the (further) disgust of many, he maintains a good-natured attitude about everything, often cracking jokes during serious (or life-threatening) situations. Despite enjoying certain people’s company, he rarely tends to call anyone friend, nor is he a very loyal individual, either to Ferelden or the Grey Wardens. One thing that CAN be said about him though is that he’s an honest individual, he won’t lie about his loyalty, and will openly admit that fighting the Darkspawn is an easier way to deal with his temptations than hurting his fellow humans.
As far as morals go, Joras’s could be considered their own shades of blue and orange. He isn’t an ‘evil person’ so to say, he doesn’t exactly spend his time kicking puppies or burning villages, but he is cruel and selfish. The majority of his actions are done because of they serve him in some way, even if only because they give him some form of pleasure.
Skills:
1) Dual Weapons
2) Tracking (Woods)
3) Combat Tactics
4) History
5) Coercion
6) Etiquette
Knack: While he maintains the education of an average nobleman, the one area of academics that Joras excelled at was military matters. Give him a map and the troop markers, and he should be able to find a way to route the enemy…if at the expense of his own men.
Combat style: Joras’s fighting is an elegant mixture of rigorous training and unholy aggression. When combat begins, he falls into a form that was drilled into him by his master-at-arms, and is capable of parrying, disarming, and performing almost every move that’s written in the fencing books. However, he’s fueled by a sort of sick hostility, and stops at nothing to do as much damage to his opponents as possible. Why parry the blade and follow with a lunge when you can sidestep and stab the point of your sword straight through the bastard’s eye?
Equipment:
Steel Armor
Two Veridium Shortswords
2 ‘Health’ Potions
A Dagger, sheathed at the back of his waist.
Advantages: Pain Tolerance. Despite his love of inflicting pain, when his adrenaline starts pumping, Joras doesn’t mind the cuts and bruises coming his way. Every attack that hits his armor or grazes his skin drives him into a deeper fury.
Flaw(s): If you want to be blunt, Joras could be considered a few soldiers short of a full regiment. His fascination with violence, while useful for cutting down Darkspawn, won’t earn him many friends amongst the Grey Wardens. And despite his father’s best attempts, word tends to leak out that the son of a powerful noble is prone to such aggressive actions.
The eroding parapets of Ostagar hold the wartorn memories of centuries etched on their broken and scorched surfaces. Amidst their rubble and ruin, men and women from all across Ferelden and beyond prepare for the most recent in a long series of conflicts to visit the ancient fortress. Many come at the behest of their Queen, the young warrior maiden Kayla whose bravery is widely praised but who has yet to face the true horrors of war with any nation, not to speak of the oncoming horde. Other men owe more local allegiance and come at the bidding of their Lords. Chief among these men, the brooding but battle tested Loghain, hero of the revolution against Orlais. Then there are the Wardens, awaiting the expected return of their veteren leader Duncan and his fresh recruits. Scattered among these ranks, odder spectacles linger, mages of the circle, barbarians, even a golem if rumor is to believed for all have a stake in what's to come. Around them all crowds the thicket of the Korcari Wilds and creeping through it's shadowy swamps like an evil pestilence, the Blight. The Horde approaches and all can sense it, Grey Warden or not. Their peace and mayhap their lives will soon be over.
