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"Avant de me reposer. Pouvez-vous me dire ce qu'est un Venatori?"
Coucou! J'ai bien entendu? Vous ne savez pas ce que sont les Venatori? Avez-vous vécu sous un rocher? Vous ressemblez à un 'Vint, mais les Venatori sont – en quelque sorte – un secret ouvert à la maison. Et vous n'avez jamais entendu parler d'eux?
Henrietta soupira lourdement alors qu'elle empaquetait son équipement et s'installa dans son lit. "Ils n'étaient pas appelés une société secrète sans raison. Je suis sûr qu'un certain nombre de citoyens de Tevinter n'auraient jamais entendu parler d'eux." Le nain a dit, tirant un levier sur le côté de son lit à peu près.
Avec une série de pings un hochet et ce qui sonnait suspectement comme un bug petant le lit d'Henrietta se déplaçait rapidement autour d'elle, des coussins se gonflent et une tasse de cacao à vapeur complète avec des guimauves jaillissant d'un panneau latéral sur un petit plateau.
"Ils travaillaient avec Coryphée, essayant de créer un 'âge d'or' pour Tevinter, mais aucun d'entre eux ne s'est rendu compte que l'Ancien ne faisait que les utiliser pour le pouvoir politique au sein de l'Imperium." Alors qu'elle parlait Henrietta sirotait son cacao, se tapant les lèvres avec reconnaissance alors que le liquide chauffant glissa dans sa gorge.
"Depuis que l'Inquisition a fait tomber son Maître, les derniers Venatori sont en fuite. Tous leurs biens dans l'Imperium ont été saisis et leurs esclaves libérés, ou du moins vendus à de meilleurs ménages, qui de ce que j'ai entendu parler de l'Imperium équivaut à la même chose que la liberté."
En remettant sa tasse vide sur son plateau, Henrietta regarda avec une satisfaction tranquille l'assemblage se glisser rapidement dans le « rouleau de lit » où il serait nettoyé et rempli d'ici la nuit suivante. "Bien sûr, après avoir travaillé avec l'Inquisition, nous ne sommes pas susceptibles d'être leur peuple préféré en ce moment, mais vu qu'il y en a si peu qui restent avec un pouvoir réel, je douterais que nous soyons confrontés à ceux que nous ne pouvions pas gérer."
L'artiste se sentait parfois comme si elle devait démonter son lit pour vérifier exactement comment ça fonctionnait, car elle avait été un peu préoccupée lors de sa première construction, ayant rencontré un Elf mignon et se retrouvant dans le besoin désespéré d'un lit à l'époque, et pour la vie d'elle n'avait aucun souvenir de la façon dont elle l'avait réellement construit.
De telles choses ont été pour une autre fois, et se méfiant de son voyage Henrietta a roulé et s'est rendue aussi confortable que possible sur la literie bien rembourrée, ergonomiquement conçue, auto-adaptante comme elle le pouvait.
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Henrietta Harrowmont .
Madcap Mechanical MenaceBasic Information
Species: Dwarf
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Appearance:
Like most of her race Henrietta is shorter than most other races, but she still stands a good couple of inches taller than most of her own people. Heavily influenced by the technologies of both the Tevinter and the Qunari, Henrietta has built herself a 'battle-harness' which incorporates any number of weird and wonderful gadgets to help her keep safe in battle. Vitae
Specialisations: Artificer, Sabotage, Subterfuge
Notable Traits:A Gadget For Every Occasion: Whenever the opportunity presents itself Henrietta loves nothing more than to dismantle and rebuild her battle-harness, upgrading and improving its design with her latest madcap invention. She always seems to have some sort of gadget to lend a helping hand to a situation, even if they don't always work in exactly the way she had intended them to.
Mechanical Mastermind: Henrietta is a genius when it comes to mechanisms, machinery and motorised marvels of all kinds. There are very few devices which, with the proper instruments and time, she cannot discover the purpose, function and operation of.
Mind Over Matter: Fully aware of her physical shortcomings, Henrietta's battle-harness has built-in strength enhancing gauntlets designed to increase the power of her punches and enable to to fight back against anyone who might try to take her inventions away from her. While this only makes her as strong as an average warrior, it still packs enough of a punch to help Henrietta out of tight corners.
Duck and Cover: The only reason Henrietta has survived this long in her experimentations is her innate ability to know when something's just about to go dreadfully wrong, and having the speed and skill to make herself vanish just before someone asks the question "Who the hell blew up my forge?"
Flaws:Fade-less: As a dwarf, Henrietta has no connection with the Fade and cannot use magics in their normal manner. While she has a resistance to lyrium in all its usual forms, she can still be affected by red lyrium over long periods or in large enough quantities.
Loose Screw: While none can doubt her skills at forging and crafting components for her latest creations, Henrietta has a habit of missing out minor, but often key, components when constructing her devices. Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem, but the tenth time... DUCK!
"What Does This Button Do?": When faced with a mystery, especially a mechanical one, Henrietta just can't stop herself from giving it a poke. Sometimes this habit of practical experimentation leads to great rewards and breakthroughs in knowledge, but at other times it can lead her and her comrades into trouble.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: Henrietta is obsessed with the number three and often has to do minor actions, such as stirring her broth, washing her bowl and tightening screws, in multiples of three. While this has no immediately detrimental effect should she not be able to complete the action, it will bug her for the rest of the day, until she can finally complete the sequence.
Skills: Spike Trap, Elemental Mines, Caltrops, Hook and Tackle, Throwing Blades, Knockout Powder and Stealth
Backstory
Biography:
Born on the surface, in a clan of dwarves living in Nevarra, Henrietta soon showed an inquisitive and curious nature which was only fed by the love of her blacksmith father. Quickly learning the ways of the hammer and tongs, Henrietta set out to discover new ways to make metal work, developing skills in precision crafting and forging which enabled her to build smaller, more efficient mechanisms each day. When the Nevarran Military discovered the young girl's gift they immediately travelled to her small settlement to make her an offer she couldn't refuse, to turn her skills towards constructing war machines which would make Nevarra the envy of the world.
Asking for some time to think over their proposal Henrietta and her entire family swiftly scarpered, leaving their village behind them to seek out a safer, less intimidating place to set up shop. For several months the dwarves journeyed around the shores of the Waking Sea, passing through numerous countries on their way, the family eventually found themselves in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains with seemingly no way to pass.
Settling down the dwarves began doing what they do best, mining. As they cut their way into the side of the mountains, uncovering ores and minerals which could be used to craft their wares, the dwarves were surprised to come across red lyrium buried deep within the rocks. Not realising what this strange material was they happily began forging it into their armour, weapons and trinkets as an adornment to their creations. Soon after they found themselves under the gaze of the Inquisition, who demanded to know where the red lyrium had come from.
After revealing their mining endeavour the dwarves were quickly evacuated from the area, for their own safety. WHile the move was sudden the poor innocents were treated with the utmost respect and soon found themselves working their trade under the Inquisition's banner. CHurning out arms and armour each day held little interest for Henrietta though, so instead she set to work building herself the means to help the Inquisition more directly, and had soon created a working prototype of her battle-harness. When presenting the mechanisms to the Inquisition forces they were less than impressed, mainly due to Henrietta managing to accidentally demolish part of the kitchens in the process.
Seeing the potential in the young and eager dwarf, and not wanting her anywhere near them when her mad inventions finally managed to reduce the area around her to a smoking crater, the Inquisition forces made enquiries as to the need amongst their allies for a blacksmith-come-death machine, and Henrietta soon found herself in the company of the Company, brave mercenaries who treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy, from as far away as they could politely get.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Dreaming of nothing more than machinery, cogs and gears Henrietta seeks to learn everything she can about the physical sciences, and to be the first to build something spectacular. She doesn't know exactly what that something may be, but she is most definitely certain about the spectacular part.
Player’s long term goals:Henrietta can be an important part of any quest, her skill with mechanisms and devices extending to locks, traps and secret doorways just as much as to machinery and engines. I'd like her to have the opportunity to build steam-aged machines to help out the party, if she can work out the science behind them first.
Relations:Henrietta's family are currently sheltered by the Inquisition, working as blacksmiths and trader on their behalf.Although her family once had times with the Noble House of Harrowmont, as a Surface Dwarf Henrietta has no contact with Orzammar and only limited knowledge of dwarven beliefs and traditions.
While not Andrastian herself she holds a deep respect for their faith and accepts many of their customer and rituals as her own.Henrietta is currently wanted by the Nevarran Military, although as they only wish to recruit her they wouldn't want to take any overtly aggressive actions against her, least they drive her into the hands of their rivals.
Secrets:The power supply for Henrietta's battle-harness is a refined red lyrium reactor, which harnesses the power of the strange element in order to make her mechanisms function. The long-term effects of exposure to the material, even in its heavily shielded state, are currently unknown, and should the containment ever be breached the red lyrium could adversely affect everyone Henrietta comes into contact with.
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Paxton a dû se tirer de ses propres pensées pour se concentrer sur Martin, son esprit était toujours sur les pauvres bâtards qui ont été forcés à devenir golems. Il n'a pas pu s'empêcher de sourire aux petites annonces de Martin, le mercenaire âgé a rappelé à Paxton tant de son ancien instructeur Knight-Enchanteur qu'il n'a pu s'empêcher de ressentir dix-huit fois encore essayer de comprendre comment tenir son épée. Heureusement pour Paxton, il avait une Templière qui était plus qu'heureux de lui montrer comment s'emparer correctement de sa nuque. Avec un autre sourire à son souvenir des mésaventures de son jeune Paxton se leva de son siège.
-- Eh bien, je vous verrai beaucoup demain matin. Essayez de ne rien faire sauter pendant que je dors, je vous regarde, petite Mlle Harrowmont." Il a dit avant qu'il s'étirait et se dirigeait vers le rouleau de lit qu'il s'était installé sous un grand arbre. Il n'a pas perdu de temps à glisser sur le tapis et à se mettre à l'aise. La bête cramoisi massive qui était Sasha est rapidement venue et frisé à côté de son adoption plus loin et bientôt les deux ont laissé sortir des ronflements doux que certains à quel point parfaitement s'harmonisent l'un avec l'autre.
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"Let the blade pass through the flesh, Let my blood touch the ground, Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice. -Andraste 7:12"
Paxton Arkwright
Bloodwrath
Basic Information
Species
Human/Abomination
Age
33
Gender
Male
Class
Mage/Warrior
Appearance
Paxton is a tall man, standing at 6'4 in height, with a muscular body build. His skin is slightly on the pale side and is peppered with scars from countless misadventures in his life, though there are a series of them that rack his arms that stand out among the rest. His hair is a dark, ash black and normally hangs down below his shoulders in a uncombed mess, though on occasion he has been known to tie it back into a loose ponytail. He has a slightly trimmed beard that covers the lower half of his face, left unattended for too long it will easily match that of a Dwarf's. His eyes are a bright amber color, on the verge of being yellow, and hold a certain sharpness to them.
Unlike traditional mages Paxton does not wear robes, instead he wears a set of leather armor. The armor is colored in a mixture of dark grey and black. He wears an amulet of Andraste under his armor almost at all times. Paxton has a large slightly tattered collared coat he normally wears over his armor. Another thing that separates Paxton from the usual mage is that he does not carry a staff at all.
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations
Knight-Enchanter, Blood Mage, Reaver
Notable Traits
Master Of The Game
Paxton had spent years mingling with members of the highest society as he served as one of the Divine's elite mage guards. As such he is more than use to surviving the cut throat politics that Orlesian call their Grand Game, in fact he was once quite the avid player. Paxton can exchange words as well as the most pampered and schooled nobles Thedas has to offer. He once prided himself on his skill to fool bards, who were supposedly the most skilled members of the game
Andrastian
Paxton is a devoted follower of the Chantry. He worships the Maker and his mortal bride Andraste. He has memorized most of the chant of light, which is no easy feat, and has even at one point sung through the whole chant, which took about three weeks to complete. He is known to throw a Chant line or two into conversation if it relates to the matter on hand, he has even been caught singing the Chant to merely pass the time. Though many may find it hypocritical for Paxton to call himself a follower of the Chantry given his choice of combat use, Paxton says what he does is a necessary evil that must be done.
Elf-Blooded
Though one may not guess it from merely looking upon him Paxton is actually indeed a half-Elf. His mother was a Elven maid and his father the inn keeper where his mother work. The two fell in love and the product of their romance was Paxton. Because of this Paxton has a soft spot for Elven kind and their plight, often times getting into bloody fights whenever he hears someone use the expression "knife-ear".
Cat Person
No offence to the Fereldans and their Mabari, but Paxton had always preferred felines over hounds. Paxton always respected the creatures' craftiness, not to mention found them quite adorable. Plus Paxton's dislike for dog slobber pushed him towards cats. You can only imagine what he thoughts when he came upon a group of bandits attacking what looked like a defenseless kitty. After a less than pleasant bout of bandit stomping Paxton went to treat the cat only to find out it was a red lion cub, apparently the bandits had killed her mother. Paxton did the only thing he thought was right and took in the cub, naming her Sasha. Ever since Paxton had been raising her, some say just as well as any other red lion parent could, and Sasha has grown into quite the deadly and beautiful creature.
Flaws
Battle Enthusiast
Master of the Game or not Paxton has no problem jumping into battle, he rather enjoys it in fact. If one's first attempt at talking fails Paxton would more than likely already be moving in for his first, maybe even last, attack on whoever they were trying to convince. He is basically the equivalent of a battle harden Qunari with the short temper of a drunken Dwarf.
Wanted By The Orlesian Chantry
Paxton's past has left him as a wanted man of the Orlesian Chantry, he has to be very weary any time he sets foot on Orlesian soil do to the great and wide power the Chantry holds there.
Wrath Within
Paxton is not alone in his own body or mind, he is in a sense an Abomination. For he harbors a demon of Wrath in side of himself. Unlike other mages who harbor a spirit of the Fade inside themselves and allow themselves to be over taken by it Paxton has tamed this beast to a extent. The demon serves as a resource of immense power and knowledge, but always posses a threat. If Paxton is not careful with his emotional state the demon can and has taken control of its host, at which point it brings Paxton's inner hatred and furry down upon anyone or thing near by, regardless of friend or foe.
Skills
Fade Cloak
Paxton shifts from a physical form to that of a cloud of blood mist. While in this form Paxton is invulnerable and can pass through enemies with out penalty. When he rematerializes he does so in a small crimson burst of blood that wounds and knock backs enemies.
Spirit Blade
Paxton's hands become surrounded by blood that form into monstrous claws that can cut as deep as any blade.
Blood Magic
Paxton uses the blood of his foes to fuel his power and continue his slaughtering sprees.
Ring Of Pain
Paxton claims his spot on the battle field and fights with the ferocity of a dragon, turning any foe foolish enough to come close into stains on the ground.
Devour
Paxton rips into his foes and uses their blood in order to heal his own wounds
Dragon-Rage
Paxton uses his dragon infused blood to strengthen the power of his claws. This power only increases with the damage Paxton endures.
Backstory
Biography
Paxton's life started like all mage lives do, he was stripped away from his family at the tender age of six and sent to the Circle of Magi, though to his fortune the Nevarran Circles have much more freedom when compared to the rest of Thedas when excluding the Tevinter Imperium.
He was quite the talented student when it came to his studies, accelerating ahead of his peers. He was even the youngest apprentice in the Nevarran Circle's history to go through the Harrowing, at only the age of fifteen. It wasn't long after his Harrowing that Paxton requested to be transferred to the Orlesian Circle of Magi, The White Spire, in the hopes to study the magic of the Knight-Enchanters. As a fully fledge mage his request was deemed acceptable and he was transferred to the White Spire.
The years after that Paxton did nothing but train in the arts of the Knight-Enchanter, which eventually not only did he become one but he was also requested to become one of the Elite Knight-Enchanter bodyguards of the Divine herself. Needless to say Paxton accepted.
Paxton spent years in service to the Divine, saving her life countless times from would be killers. He was held in high regard among the Chantry, they seeing him as what a mage should be, but all that changed once Paxton's secret came to light. It turned out for years that Paxton had not only been studying blood magic, but also practicing it actively, even going as for to drink the blood of a dragon and becoming a Reaver.
All this was revealed when an assassin got the better of him, managing to fire an arrow through Paxton's shoulder, and was about to cut down the Divine. Paxton did the only thing he could think of to save her, he used blood magic to force the assassin to run his blade across his own throat.
Though he saved her Paxton was labeled a Maleficar by the Chantry and was sentenced to become a Tranquil, though the Divine seemed remorseful about this verdict. He swore he never used the magic to manipulate anyone for his own personal gain, but no one cared about that fact and the matter was closed. The night before he was supposed to go through the Rite of Tranquility he managed to escape because someone left the door to his cell unlocked, something he questions to this day.
Paxton wandered for months, hiding from Templars and chantry members alike. Paxton had become so desperate for survival he eventually made a deal with a powerful demon of Wrath for power, allowing the demon to enter this world through his body. The demon attempted to over take Paxton's will, but underestimated the mage's power. The result was that the two were now bound together in a single body.
Though he now had a demon housed inside of him Paxton had become remarkably stronger. He used this strength to evade or scare off further pursues. Not long after Paxton found himself in league with a mercenary group. At first he aligned with them as they provided the perfect cover from Templars, but he eventually formed a bond and kinship with his brothers and sisters in arms.
The group, along with Paxton, at some point were hired by the reformed Inquisition as soldiers, which Paxton greatly approved of. With the Rift Crises averted and their job done Paxton and the group of mercenaries are now on the search for coin and new adventures.
Personality and/or Motivation
Paxton is a sharp fellow born with a quick wit and quicker tongue. He is just as likely to make a smart remark comment as he is to deck you in the face. He is quite hardy, loving a good laugh and drink. He is no stranger to manipulation, having been on both ends of it, and knows that you have to be carful around everyone as they more likely than not are waiting to stab you in the back. Though under his rugged exterior Paxton is quite the noble soul, holding strong in his moral code of protecting the little guy and destroying wrong doers. Though he does know in order to do good one may have to do actions that most may label as evil.
Player’s long term goals
Paxton had felt lost and broken ever sense his life was turned upside down the day his secret was brought to light. He has found solace in the kinship of his brothers and sisters in arms of the mercenary group. He now tries to ensures the safety and well being of each of his comrades, even if it means putting his own hide on the line.
Relations
Many of the bridges Paxton had built over the years were burned when his being a Blood Mage was reviled. Though he may be able to come upon a old friend, be they mage or Templar, from his days in the towers who wouldn't mind showing him kindness. His main connections and ties happen to be the other members of the mercenary group.
Secrets
Though the rest of the group is aware of his given situation with Wrath, Paxton tends to keep the fact that he communicates with Wrath on a nearly constant bases to himself. He does not want people to think he is indeed being influenced by the demon.
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Tu sais, Etta, je te demanderais si tu es sérieux, mais je ne pense pas que je veux entendre la réponse.
Fredrick entendit l'annonce de Martin et secoua la tête.
"Bah." Fredrick a dit.
"Bah. "Bah!" Il répéta en colère, se levant et s'approchant de sa tente.
"Bonne nuit, putain de gaufres! Réveille-moi et je descendrai sur toi avec la colère d'un dieu en colère! » Il a dit, avant de claquer son rabat de tente.
Mangy suivit, aboyant des excuses pour le comportement de son maître alors qu'il entrait dans la tente.
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Name: Cassius Alexandros Svent.
Nickname: Cas.
Species: Half breed, Human and Elf.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Class: Rogue/ mage hybrid.
Appearance: Stands at 5'11 to 6ft, hour class frame, large feet, broad shoulders, scrawny arms. Cream colored skin, hazel green eyes, shoulder length dark chocolate brown hair. Somewhat of a straight nose, beak like. Wide hips, thick thighs.
As for clothes he mostly wears Blue and Black Velvet like garments that are light and easy to move in. Most of which have clashing patterns that overlap in an elegant yet messy way.
Specializations: Arcane Warrior, Spirit healer.
Notable Traits: He tends to be observant as well as quiet, has a lisp, tends to fold his arms, move his hands and body accordingly when he speaks, and usually stares blank faced.
Flaws: He has several minor scars on his face, to a dent in the middle of his forehead. His right fore arm has cut on it as well as the elbow. In terms of a personality flaw, he tends to take things too seriously at times, to just being snide and sarcastic. He also is tranquil in the sense of personality, but in truth he is very caring despite his sense of apathy.
Skills: Healing, regenerative spells, revival, because of being an arcane Warrior, he can fight with a sword effectively as well as utalize all Arcane Warrior skills. Fade step, telekinetic weapons as well as mindblast. Occasionally he will do a low blow to throwing dirt in one's eyes. Tier two Lockpicking and pickpoketing,Dispell and Evasion.
Outside of combat, he also knows a bit of alchemy. He can make minor tonics provided he has the materials.
Biography: He was born as a slave to a family in the Imperium as he was sold off by his parents. Rather then being treated as a slave, he was treated as an apprentice on the estate he lived in, but he still witnessed jarring things that made him not feel as safe, such as torture of other hand maids of the lord of the estate. At times it would either be beheadings, to severe branding by magic, to entropy to drive others to insanity, the screams always made him feel unsafe and gave him the mentality he could be next, that they could snap on him relatively quickly.
With fear being his drive to try to be proper and show no fear, he did whatever he was tasked, even if he was a failure at some relatively new task, such as forging items from materials, to being able to use major magics. He was only capable of minor magics, and his overlord took note of this. His overlord in particular and wanted to see the potential of halfbreeds, fortunately the results of his capability were better in terms of utility and flexibility. This pleased the overlord throughout the years he had trained him to do basic skills in his garden.
In the gardens he had many plants to work with, wither it be in cooking, or alchemy, he learned just enough to get by. He did however enjoy cooking, this was something his overlord found amusing. "A halfbreed enjoying the arts of cooking?", it was funny for a while at how excited young Cassius was to learn how to make simple things like bread to small pastries, it was something even a bit heart warming to those around. When he cooked, he was considerate of the slaves, which raised many eyebrows on the estate.
When he was inside, he enjoyed solving little puzzles from contraptions made, to disarming minor traps. It was fun to him, and amusing to see what triggers devices to what also disables them.
When he was just seventeen, the Overlord of the estate left on a business trip to inquire about his next set of slaves, and to his dismay,the son of the lord watched over the estate in his absence. During this period, Cassius was sliced, bruised, and abused by the Young lord. Cassius had enough when he saw himself bleeding, to one of the maids being outright stabbed over trying to defend the teenager. Cassius put his skills and reflexes to the test, in which he killed the Lord's son, and left with several slaves. He even took one of the most expensive set of clothes for his new life, with a handful of gems, and a Saber that belonged to the house.
He fled Tevinter where he'd escape to Ferelden, a land of opportunity. There, he heard legends of the land, events that he was sheltered from. It was clear to him his life was far from simply starting. To make it in life, he want to look for job opportunities.
Personality: He is inquisitive, snide, caring, and ultimately tranquil in terms of mental state about most things, so he is passively neutral unless the situation directly effects him.
Motivation:To make the most of his new life and break away from his innocence to do something with his life rather then sit down and do nothing.
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La nuance précoce de l'aube a atteint un sommet hors de la couverture du ciel de la nuit. Karras avait choisi d'aller de l'avant et de repérer des signes d'ennuis. Il avait passé la nuit à parcourir la mer de Waking. Il n'y avait eu que quelques araignées de taille chienne errant le long d'un sentier forestier voisin, jusqu'à ce que quelques flèches bien placées à travers et entre les carapaces prennent soin de ce problème.
Toute autre forme de danger ou de menace semblait vacante dans la région alors qu'il traversait à nouveau la région. Libérer un grognement satisfait, il a jeté son grand arc sur lui et a fait son chemin de retour pour être lui et le reste de la compagnie mercenaire et a fait leur débarquement. Il lui a fallu un certain temps pour revenir, voyant que le soleil s'était presque levé et que la nuit sombre s'était dissipée. Karras put sentir l'odeur de la viande qui brûlait au-dessus d'un feu avant même de s'approcher d'eux, ce qui signifiait qu'ils étaient déjà debout et animés.
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Karras
The Dark WandererBasic Information
Species - Human/Awakened Ghoul
Age - 26
Gender - Male
Class - Rogue(Archer)
Appearance -
Curriculum Vitae
Specializations - Shadow, Archery, Specialist
Notable Traits:
Humanlike - Karras indeed does have the dark blood coursing within his being, but somehow has retained his human like form rather then a malformed grotesque hurlock with warped skin and exposed blackened teeth. He has also the capability of speaking instead of mere grunts, growls, roars, or screams... though because of the taint within he mainly grunts in approval or disapproval due to his voice now sounding somewhat bestial.
Lock-Jaw - Karras keeps his mouth shut mainly due to the fact of his black tinted teeth standing out to that akin of rivaling a dragonling. Though that doesn't mean he keeps it shut twenty-four seven, on several accounts he's used them against those that desired to get up close and personal or had actually managed to corner him... the taste does linger for a while though, which disturbingly isn't quite half bad to him.
Deadman Walking - Given his appearance when first laided eyes upon, you'd think you've spotted a ghost, walking!? His once smooth brown skin has now become a ghastly pale coloration of white mixed in with a dull expression of gray.
Hawk's Eye - Though his eye may look void of life with the whites of his eyes tinted to near gray themselves and his pupils nearly completely crystal white, he still has sharp eye that spot can spot movements nearly two miles out without the need of any enhancement of glass.
Flaws:
Brood Mother's Calling - Karras isn't fully cut off from the link between himself and the darkspawn taint that now runs deep within him. He's still able to hear their thoughts of the hived spawn especially of the voice from the darkspawn Broodmother that had turned him in the first place.
Enemy Neutrality - Even with him being away from the main cluster of his corruption Karras has crossed paths with Darkspawn without having to attack, but there have also been a few times when the calling has ailed his mind black, then back to were he's standing over those that were combating his tainted brethren.
Flesh Craving - Darkspawn don't relatively need to rely on the constant need of sustaining food, but when they do they take entire throngs of live prey, reported mostly the male counterparts, and devour the red warm flesh raw and screaming. Karras hasn't necessarily done such acts, on purpose, other than to save his own life. Gurgut meat does have a limit though, once or twice people who were bad tended to have gone missing
Skills:
Full Draw
Long Shot
Speed
Lighting Speed
Pinpoint Precision
Strafing Shots
Backstory
Biography - Karras once had an actual life filled with lively hood, fellowship and living for the thrill of the hunt. Since nothing within Avvarian culture was truly permanet other than their lifetime of cultural tradiotions and oaths, his former clan, The Dragonmaw Clan, constanly moved throughout the lands of Fereldan. The Dragonmaw were the most known Avvar clan that were truly more open then other Avvarian clans.
Growing up in the life of staying for a few years then moving on to new lands seeking new trade and their forests fruitful with plenty of wild game to hunt letting the previous area were they hunted repopulate itself for a time until it was thriving with enough game again.
Karras was an excellent huntsman within his clan. Karras's skill with a bow was highly praised and reconsided amonng his Avvar kinsmen, even the thane claimed that he was a force to be reckoned with from a distance, but that didn't mean he wasn't useless in close combat either. From bringing down Gurguts to managing to survive an encounter of Giants in heat... Truly it isn't a pretty sight. Something not even lowlanders should witness...
Though during the transition of moving from the hinterlands, the thane decided that taking a path through the mountains to Orzammar rather then take the long route around them... that was the day the avvar of the DragonMaw Clan died... the day Karras was no longer himself, but something... darker.
It was a a full moon and pitch black as tar as the DragonMaw clan took refuge inside a rather large old dwarven cavern that appeared with one way out as it seemed safe enough for them to stay for the night and continue onward when they arose, but it was folly as they didn't suspect the the night-gangers, darkspawn, to burst through the cavern from beneath them. They came in with a reckoning force of sheer terror. Even as the bulk of the DragonMaw forces were slaughtered in their sleep or trying to defend themselves, the rest of the DragonMaw clan, Karras included with the remaining alive fought back with equal strength. As they fought within they sought to send the young and those that couldn't out of the cavern to safety, but their own way out was cut off by darkspawn Ogres... they had walked right on into a trap unknowningly. None were safe. Elders, men, woman, and even children weren't spared.
After he quick and brutal onslaught, the Karras and what remained of the DragonMaw stood only twenty strong, the thane not included, to a throng of night-gangers. They were all brought down quickly, with minimal resistance. Those few that were hanging by a thread were either tainted themselves turning them into Darkspawn monsters or dragged deep under the mountains, into the Deeps Roads to be feasted upon. Karras was one of the few that were turned into a blighted creature known as an ghoul.
At first he was part of the hive minded killers. Obeying and slaughtering those that stood against them just like any other hurlock. His mind was blank, no emotion, no compassion, no remorse for those that he killed, but slowly years after being tainted, corrupted with dark blood, Karras had manged to retain part of his on will and sanity. Pieces of memories, names, places came back to him over time.
He questioned himself on the matter of who he truly was and seeing that he was able to be self aware of what he was and of this were truly as they seemed. He managed to find a way out of a part of the Deep Roads near Orzammar, not without having to fight his way out first which wasn't easy task. He sustained near death injuries escaping from them, but he pressed on and on moving through places he didn't recognize, having to fight others wanting to kill him just for the spite of it. Then one day seeing that he was backed against the wall by grey men with horns, injured badly when another group came into the fray and saved him.
He found himself indebted to the group, the only group, of people that had saved him that very day and sought to repay them by joining them.
Personality and/or Motivation - Karras... he isn't much of a talker per say, mainly due to the fact that he wanted to avoid any suspicion, though he already stuck out like a sore thumb because of his appearance already. He also tends to stare... Alot, Karras sometimes doesn't even know why he does it, he just knows that he does.
Player’s long term goals - Karras wishes to regain the entirety of his memories to find out what happened to him in the past and be free of the taint the runs within him.
Relations - Other then going out on jobs with the main group, he still doesn't truly know everyone within the group, though he has received a lot of suspicion from others as well.
Secrets - Karras can still hear the calling of the hived darkspawn and sometimes willing or not, his mind gives in and he turns into a mindless killer out for blood. Only a few people within the group have seen what happens when his mind does give in thus why he remains secluded from mainly everyone.
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Martin a salué l'aube brisée en brisant le vent, fort et obstinément pendant une minute avant de finalement rouler sur son dos et frotter le sommeil de ses yeux avec les deux mains. Avec une toux effervescente et une forte gémissement, le vieux soldat se leva lentement sur ses pieds et commença à se déplacer autour des braises brûlées du feu de camp, toujours légèrement enflammée comme le dernier du bois frais de la nuit précédente fut transformé en cendres.
Une partie de la fête était déjà levée, assise autour de mâcher ce qu'ils avaient trouvé pour leurs petits déjeuners, mais beaucoup étaient encore coincés en toute sécurité dans leurs lits, enveloppés fermement contre le froid du matin. "C'est vrai, espèce d'aigots!" Il a appelé au sommet de ses poumons, en balançant sa botte dans l'un des membres de la milice de la Compagnie dont le lit vient d'être le plus proche à portée de main. "Il est temps de se lever et de se réveiller. Nous partirons dans l'heure et je veux que cet endroit soit nettoyé et dépouillé d'ici là."
En s'éloignant du mécontentement de grognement, Martin s'en alla dans les buissons pour faire ses ablutions du matin avant de trouver son chemin vers le petit ruisseau qui s'éloignait du feu de camp. Se laver le mieux qu'il pouvait être dérangé, il a attaché son armure à la place et s'est assuré que son épée était bien en place avant de retourner au reste de la fête.
La plupart du travail avait été fait au moment où il est revenu, les serfs et les minions de la Compagnie bien versé dans l'art de briser le camp et déjà rangé ce qui devait être pris avec eux sur l'ancien wagon qui servait de train à bagages pour le groupe mercenaire. Un peu plus loin, Martin l'a ramené pour révéler la lourde poitrine en fer, qui était le trésor de la Compagnie.
"Des problèmes?" Il a demandé, regardant dans l'arbre surplombant son lit. Il n'avait pas besoin de vérifier si elle était là, il savait qu'elle resterait près de lui si tôt dans la journée, préférant attendre la nuit tombée pour se déplacer toute seule.
"Rien à craindre." La voix soyeuse a répondu, son tout son ressemblant à une menace pour la vie de quelqu'un. Malgré combien de temps il avait connu la fille Martin toujours se demandant à l'époque exactement où Nighthawk avait appris à parler comme ça, et quelles horreurs elle avait visités sur les gens qui vivaient là-bas dans le processus. Et il n'a jamais douté qu'elle ait été l'horreur dans tous les endroits sauvages qu'ils ont pu être.
En hurlant la poitrine sur son dos, en l'accrochant contre son bouclier, Martin s'est hissé jusqu'à la charrette d'attente avant de la jeter à côté des sacs de nourriture et des bras de secours. Levant lui-même à côté de lui, Martin s'installa à la place alors qu'il regardait attentivement les autres se préparer pour la route à venir,
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Fredrick
The Dog of FereldanBasic Information
Species:Elf
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Class Warrior
Appearance:
Fredrick is missing his left arm, and has many, MANY scars. He has brown eyes and a very feminine appearance. He is muscular, and short. He stands at five feet.Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations: Berserker, Reaver, Spirit Warrior(used through anger)
Notable Traits:
First Trait: Despite not being a mage, Fredrick has an oddly powerful connection to the Fade. This makes him more of a beacon for demons and spirits than an average person, though no where near the same extent as a mage. Rage demons in particular are attracted to him, for obvious reasons.
Second Trait: Fredrick's left arm was destroyed by a high dragon before. He has thus adapted his two-handed fighting style to use only one arm, and is very, VERY strong in that arm.
Third Trait: Fredrick has learned to form a semi-corporeal arm using his reaver and spirit warrior skills. This arm cannot properly grasp anything, but its amorphic nature allows him to use it as a Swiss army weapon.
Fourth trait Fredrick is VERY pro-freedom, and is always rooting for the underdog. He is also very sensitive if racism, and will willingly stand up to anyone who he feels is being unjust, common sense be damned.
FlawsFirst Flaw: Fredrick is an ANGRY little bugger. He is more or less always bitching about something or someone, and during combat he has to constantly fight against his own anger for control. His rage is a double edged sword in a fight, as, though it powers all of his skills, it also makes him less rational(duh). He can be smart, but rarely will he consider the smart idea when he can just inspire pantshitting terror.
Second Flaw: Fredrick is VERY hard headed. When he gets an idea in his head, he will stand by it, logic be damned.
Third Flaw: Fredrick is really socially awkward. His foot has taken permanent residence in his mouth and will not leave. He has the amazing power to say the dumbest thing possible.
Fourth Flaw HE ONLY HAS ONE FUCKING ARM. IT IS SO HARD TO DO THINGS ONE HANDED. HE NEEDS HELP UNSCREWING JARS. HE HAS ONE ARM.
Seriously though, while his abilities can compensate, he is still missing an arm. Out of combat he has various issues, and in combat he has to rely on a constant assault to keep himself safe, as having only one god damn arm means he can't attack and defend at the same time.
Skills
Growing Fury: A combination of berserk, frenzy and spirit warrior skills. Fredrick's combat rage has multiple stages to it, depending on how wounded he is and his furious he is. His second arm is tied to his rage too, not manifesting until the second stage of his fury.
1st Stage, Berserk: Fredrick's usual combat stage. Frothing at the mouth berserk fury, with no magic added. Fredrick swings Dragonslayer one handed, ripping through his foes.
Notable Skills: Various "two-handed" techniques, notably the very quick and powerful sunder arms and sunder armor, as well as Destroyer. He has a weakened version of frightening appearance, which is less Reaver powers and more being a terrifying berserk elf. He can use Final Blow, which exhausts his remaining energy and leaves him vulnerable.
2nd Stage, Unholy Frenzy: Fredrick rarely reaches this state.Fredrick's strength is further enhanced as he is wounded, and he begins to inspire bladder-failing terror with his warcrys and viscious attacks. He revels in blood, and regenerates if exposed to enemy blood. He can use frightening appearance to its true potential, and actually takes advantage of his terrifying nature to make his foes too scared to fight back. He can actively use Devour in order to heal further. He also forms a limb out of blood and fire in order to attack his foes. He gains use of overwhelm and dread howl while in this state of rage.
Third Stage Rage Demon: Fredrick sinks partially into the fade, gaining potent defensive and offensive benefits. His attacks become significantly faster, and blood becomes gravitating toward him to heal him. His formed arm becomes even more versatile, and he learns to use Fade Burst and Blood Rage. He gains use of Frenzy, Peon's Plight and Massacre, and regenerates health more with each foe killed. This state actively drains him, however, and he has only successfully manifested it for five seconds before. When this form wears off, he is extremely vulnerable.
He also has a Mabari named Mangy. The old wardog is good at harrowing foes and leaving them open to further assault, and is particularly good at taking down mages by overwhelming and murdering them.
Backstory
Biography: Backstory
Biography: Fredrick's family was a slightly wealthy one within the Denerim alienage. They lived relatively decent lives, and were able to bring up their kids with a decent education. Fredrick has an almost idealic life for a while, with a protective, kindly older sister named Nora, a hard working and wise father, and a gentle and loving mother.
He was STILL angry, of course. Fredrick was always short tempered. His reaction to anything was yelling. He was an absolute NIGHTMARE of a child to raise. The only reason he didn't get beat up by the other kids for his constant raging was because of the aforementioned older sister.
That changed when his sister was taken by the Circle. A human had been hitting his elven servant, and Fredrick, smart kid that he is, decided that the best solution was to swing a stick at the man. Considering he was nine at the time, he was slightly unsuccessful, and the man tried to attack him too.
Before the man could lay a hand on him, however, Nora did...something. She had held both of her hands out, and the man stood still. After a moment, he fell to the ground, unconscious.
Though the servant said nothing of her tiny saviors, word still got around. It was a few weeks of stressed waiting, and then Fredrick saw some big armored humans come and take her away. His family later got news of her having been slain while attempting to escape the circle.
Fredrick started getting into fights. A lot of fights. His parents constantly tried to get him to be more careful, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Fredrick did some good, however. While at first he mostly just fought the other kids, as he grew up he started fighting thugs, bullies. He has actually helped a decent number of people in Denerim. He even helped out a mabari breeder in Amaranthine while visiting family by driving off some thugs that were trying to steal some pups. Fredrick got a pup of his own for his troubles, whom he named Mangy. Mangy helped protect him, especially during the events of Tevinter slavers and other unrest in the alienage. Mangy even saved his life when they were helping protect the alienage.
After the Blight ended, Fredrick decided to take up mercenary work to help fund the reparation of the alienage. He and Mangy set off and joined with a group of mercenaries for a time. They gained quite a reputation as doers of the impossible. They went all over Denerim, and later beyond its borders, doing great deeds. Fredrick's company was called the Dogs of Fereldan, so named for their Chasind leader, and because Mangy became their mascot. The leader took Fredrick under his wing, and taught him to harness his rage more efficiently.
Eventually, they ended up hunting a rogue apostate in Kirkwall.
They tracked the Maleficar to a house in town, fully prepared to confirm who she was and kill her. However, when Fredrick saw her, his heart stopped.
The maleficar was his sister. She told him of how she had escaped and been named dead before her Harrowing. How she had turned to blood magic and unlocked the dalish secrets of the Arcane Warrior, and how she had dedicated herself to finding greater and greater power. How she planned on helping to free the mages.
And that was how Fredrick's mercenary company ended up doing covert operations against the Templars. They mostly smuggled mages away from Tower confines, killing any Templar that came after them. It was dirty work, as most Templars were good people, but Fredrick was willing to do it for his sister, and his mercenary company stood by its own.
Eventually, however, Fredrick found evidence of his sister's doings that he couldn't ignore.
Kidnapped children, men, women, even a few grey wardens. So many innocent people, suspended in glass jars and studied, experimented on.
His sister rationalized it. Freedom, at any costs. She was tired of being a slave, tired of being branded a criminal when all she wanted was freedom. Fredrick felt uneasy, but he allowed it.
One day, his company for a job to collect regeants for the mages. It all went well, till they tried to get Drake scales. They ended up attracting the attention of the Female, a powerful high dragon. It slew most of them, and Fredrick ended up losing his right arm when it tore into him.
After that, his rage boiled over. The details are hazy. He remembers climbing atop the corpses of his friends, piled as they were, and leaping into its snout. He remembers the haze of blood, and the rise and fall of his axe. He remembers a final swing of his great axe, and then rolling over, passing out in a pool of mixed blood.
He awoke in one of his sister's glass jars. She told him that he had been gone for a few days before she found him, and that she had only managed to save him through powerful blood magic. She told him she had found him next to the mangled corpse of a high dragon. It was decapitated, one of its wings had been torn out, and its skull had multiple fractures.
After that, Fredrick's short temper was even worse. For a few days, he had to seal himself off, as EVERYTHING sent him into a mad, raging fury. He worried that he had become an abomination, and his sister refused to tell him one way or the other.
It took months for Fredrick to recover properly, learning to harness his rage as a tool once more. With his company destroyed, Fredrick and Mangy were the last Dogs of Fereldan. During the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick felt his rage boil over to a breaking point. He had been fighting a particularly skilled Templar, and had been losing. Every swing of his axe was deflected by the man's shield. His blows seemed to drain Fredrick in an odd way, sapping his strength. He only won that fight when he flew into a rage beyond what he had ever encountered before. Blood flew about him, another weapon to wield. He became an animalistic thing, attacking ferociously, smacking his armored foe about like a pebble. He tore into his foe's armor with an appendage made of blood, and tore out his heart with his teeth. He then turned on...everyone. Friends, allies, enemies, all were the same. When he finally came to, Fredrick was horrified at what he had done. What he had become.
After the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick's sister disappeared. He found her journal, left to him by her. She claimed not to want to be followed, that the war wasn't over.
She told him the truth of how he had been saved. That she had taken the blood of all the other surviving Dogs of Fereldan, and that of the dragon, and used them to change him. She hadn't healed his wounds. She had changed him so he could do it himself.
Fredrick sent Mangy home, and wandered about for a time, dissilusioned. He tossed himself into any fights he could find. His parents tried to contact him, but he avoided them. He was no longer their son. He was a monster. He wasn't even angry anymore. Just...tired.
At one point, he passed through Denerim. He had gone months without eating, and was basically a skeleton with axe and armor. He collapsed on the streets, dying.
He woke up in a comfortable bed, the smell of his mother's cooking wafting in. He felt Mangy lying next to him, and could hear his father talking about current events with his mom.
For a moment, he thought he had died. Mangy's stinky breath in his face told him otherwise.
His parents told him how Mangy had suddenly left, and came back dragging his armored form through the alienage.
Fredrick stayed for a while, doing work for the Guard. He stayed, and he healed. He learned of the stories that had been told about him back home, of how he'd become the hero that elves told their children about in Denerim. How the Dog of Fereldan was upheld by the Chasind as one of their legends. How Fereldan took pride in its Dogs, and in their final survivor.
Fredrick found a purpose again. His family knew that the truth was darker than the tales said. They didn't care. As much as he had worried and annoyed and irritated and ignored them, his family still loved him.
He eventually left again, Mangy at his side. He took mercenary work again, with all his loved ones in mind. He would make them proud.
And whether she wanted to be followed or not, he would find Nora, and bring her home.
Personality and/or Motivation: Fredrick is an angry, short tempered and surly individual with a strong moral code. He's far less violent than he used to be, and tries to avoid physical violence whenever he can.
He works out most of his frustration and temper through angry, sassy quips. Amd he never seems to stop talking.
He is EXTREMELY protective of his loved ones. Especially Mangy. You hurt his dog, you die.
Meanwhile, while he has some demons to face, he is actually happy about his life. He believes that there is good in the world, and he feels like it's worth fighting for. While he acts like a pessimist, he is VERY MUCH an optimist.
He loves to bake, secretly.
Player’s long term goals.
A chance to absolute berserk massacre a large group of enemies.
Mangy must piss on a lot of sacred artifacts to mark his territory
Get a chance to embarrass himself in front of an entire royal court.
Get ass kicked by a superior raging warrior.
Win in the rematch through NOT losing control.
Find his sister. Confront her over her actions, and work things out.
Avoid a huge massacre by being REALLY FUCKING SCARY.
Relations:
Fereldan Adoration: Fredrick is well-thought of by his home country, who have received watered down tales of his exploits.
Alienage: Especially Denerim's Alienage, who have received a LOT of money from him. They basically worship him there. Especially since the first act of his mercenary career was helping defend the alienage.
ApostateMages: Many mages, especially in Kirkwall, owe him their lives.
Chantry: For good reason, the Templars KINDA dislike him.
Secrets:
Fredrick keeps the darker side of his exploits under wraps. As far as anyone knows, he is just an angry, one armed hero. No one knows that the hunched beast that killed so many during kirkwall's final battle was him. Very few tales include the second stage of his fury, and no one knows about the third. The official story of him facing the dragon leaves out the part about him being healed with the lifeblood of his allies.
He also tries not to let anyone know that his missing sister is a known and dangerous maleficar.
Quotes:
"Nora, sis, I love you and cherish you, you know this, but WHAT THE SHRIEKING TIT NIPPLE KINGLY SHIT FUCK ARE ALL THOSE TRIPLE DARKSPAWN ORGY FUCKING PEOPLE DOING IN JARS!?"
"Fuck the rain! If I wanted water, I would have gone to a fucking well! Fucking Maker!"
"TEN SILVER!? FOR A FUCKING POULTICE?!? YOU SHITASSED MOTHERFUCKING SHITASS!"
"FUCK THOSE FUCKING FUCKERS!"
(To an arl) "FUCK YOUR COUCH, FUCK YOUR DOG CUZ MINE'S COOLER, FUCK YOUR MOM, YOUR DAD, YOUR UGLY ASS WIFE, YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY LINE, YOUR WHOLE ARLING, YOUR DUMB ASS SON AND SLUTTY ASS DAUGHTER, AND MOST OF ALL, FUCK YOU!"
"FUCK THAT!"
"FUCK!"
"SHIT!"
"SHIT FUCK!"
"For the love of the damned Maker. If another half assed fucking spider crawls out, I will shit out a rage snake and beat everyone in this cave ha fucking death with it!"
And, most commonly of all,
"Fuck you!"
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Gerald avait peu à préparer. Il avait passé le temps le matin à préparer ses approvisionnements : des flaques d'eau douce, des pieds d'elfe et d'autres choses qui pouvaient être utiles. Rien de spécial et rien de hors de l'ordinaire. Connaissant les routes profondes des livres qu'il lisait à Kirkwall, il savait que les endroits allaient avoir de l'air mort et, à ce titre, il préparait un petit chiffon pour agir comme un bloc entre sa bouche et l'air tout en lui permettant de respirer. C'était plus ou moins un gardien de sécurité mineur qu'il pouvait attacher autour de sa bouche afin de garder toutes les maladies possibles qui se cachent là-bas pour avoir un temps plus difficile à entrer dans ses poumons. Il a saisi son bâton et l'a accroché à son épaule alors qu'il regardait autour et soupirait profondément. Ce n'est pas une personne qui aimait parler à des idiots et à des bouches bruyantes avec qui il avait le plaisir de travailler. Il espérait juste qu'ils avaient raison et qu'il avait tort et que ce voyage sur les routes profondes en valait vraiment la peine. Si c'était lui qui mangeait ses mots. S'il n'était pas... et bien il serait probablement trop occupé mort pour les embêter mal à les boucher pour leurs choix de vie.
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Name: Gerald Capet
Species: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Class: Mage
Appearance:
Gerald has a thin but not frail build that reflects his time of study and shelter in the Kirkwall Circle of Magi. He has very little muscle having only gained such from his long walk back to Fereldan after the Kirkwall Incident. He has pasty white skin with very little color and dark grey eyes. His hair is blonde and is short cut but almost straw like in how it looks. He has a thin nose and is about the size of the average human male. He gives off a very nonthreatening presence due to his appearance however at will that can change as he can use his pure raw magical might to frighten most people with ease due to his training while visiting his family in Fereldan showing him how to project himself like a noble.
Curriculum Vitae:
Specializations:
Spirit Healer
Primal
Entropy
Creation
Notable Traits:
Extremely potent magi (he can cast powerful spells and he can cast a lot of smaller spells)
Very talented in elemental spells mainly the fire Branch
Very capable of learning quickly in regards to the magical arts
Can adapt well in the middle of a battle
Mentally strong (isn't easily seduced by spirits and people trying to break him).
Flaws:
Extremely poor stealth skills
Average to poor levels of physical strength
Untrained in physical weapons (bows, melee, weapons, shields, etc)
Lacks charisma and leadership capabilities (meaning he can't lead anything smaller than a handful of people)
Lacks armor training (meaning he doesn't move as well if in armor which piles on top of his already poor maneuverability)
Has rather poor flexibility (movement wise)
Skills:
Arcane Bolt
Arcane Shield
Staff Focus
Flame Blast
Flaming Weapons
Fireball
Winter Grasp
Lightning
Shock
Disorient
Glyph of Paralysis
Heal
Group Heal
Mind Blast
Biography:
Born in Kirkwall to the Noble House of Capet he was born to a family that needed an heir direly in Kirkwall. As first born he was to be heir to their house but there was a catch...he was born with an incredible magical power. His father Devon Capet was reluctant to give him up due to his own nightmares about his son's futures both in his sleep and in the political scene he kept this hidden from the Knight Commander. His mother agreed to go along with this and they chose to keep their son in their house with the family butler Alfred at all times except on rare occasions when they needed him to leave. His parents were extremely cautious with their young son and as such they had Alfred study spirits and other arcane things in order to help their son. Alfred comforted young Gerald as he grew up early in life with dreams of spirits of valor showing themselves to Gerald in his dreams as a young lad, and when he'd wake up in a panic at night through nightmares where pride demons tried to coax the young lad into letting them into him. Gerald came to view spirits as black and white and they were either good or evil as his father Devon told him.
As he grew older he began to show more tangible signs of power when he nearly burned the clothes off his father in one incident and froze his pencils by mistake. His family took a apostate into the household in order to teach young Gerald about his powers only for it to lead to an incident where in the market where he confused an older Templar by using his magic for being a jerk to Alfred. The Templars went to his father and demanded to him that they release Gerald into their custody. His father reluctantly accepted and he went to the circle of magi with the man who'd later allow him to escape Kirkwall Harris Mackley.
When he first entered the circle he was unsure and hesitant to talk to others but he soon gained many friends as he found peers who shared his powers. He also grew to hate elves as a certain group of mages taunted him for being a 'blue blooded craven' and taunted him constantly. As he started his new journey in the circle he passed his Harrowing after two years in the circle with minimal ease due to his past experience with spirits. His time in the circle was spent learning under Orsino's left hand Victor Stark, a human man born in the Free Marches who was sent to this circle due to the lack of teachers in Kirkwall.
Under Victor's strict tutoring Gerald learned how to use his affinity for fire magic to quickly become a formidable mage of note in Kirkwall. He also slowly grew to have a distaste for the Knight Commander who was clamping down on mages ever more over the years. He grew to respect a few of the people who held him captive and understand why they were there exactly as he lost a friend to a harrowing when he turned into an abomination despite Gerald's warnings to the contrary. Having lost his friend he vowed he'd do better to warn people about the dangers of spirits and demons himself and began to tutor younger mages to their relief. It was not until the Blight started however that his life would change drastically.
When people started to flood into Kirkwall the templars stationed there became more controlling over the mages causing some to chafe under their tightening collars and due to a surge in blood mages and apostates running around the island they became even more paranoid. Gerald on the other hand simply continued to teach the students who asked for help and those who were struggling with studies when he was informed that he had a new baby brother who was not a mage. He was mixed about this news and in the end chose to ignore it as it dealt about politics no longer of interest to him. He also ended up with a surge of new mages from Fereldan who were forced into his circle leading to more packed quarters and more people to deal with which stressed his mentor Victor. As the Qunari arrived things simply became that much worse as the templars and politicians grew more and more restless as with the surge in apostates, blood mages, Carta, and qunari deserters. Though he had few interactions with the Qunari he found them disgusting creatures as they served through the Qun which essentially made them all of one mind. No individuality among them and all of them served without question. Those who didn't became bandits who ravaged the coast. What good was being grouped together if there was no chance to diverge and evolve?
Gerald gave little trouble to the templars due to his own fears of them cracking down on mages became more and more true. The mages who feared the templars only drove them to tighten the noose around them and caused scuffles between them. Orsino sought out Victor's council more and more leaving Gerald to tend to his own duties. However he had increasingly been visited by various spirits in the fade while sleeping who taught him many things including how to heal others. Gerald took this knowledge in hand but refused to use it primarily because he didn't trust spirits after the harrowing and his own nightmares with demons and on the side because he didn't want to be strung up like some sort of abomination. As his fame in the circle grew he met with the Grey Wardens who considered him for recruitment but were denied by Victor's objections and Gerald's own polite rejections.
It was on the eve of the night when the poor quarter of Kirkwall was attacked by a mad elf the solidified the distrust between him and elves. Gerald already found them repulsive due to their pride and their insistence that the Dalish were better but now an elven mad woman had poisoned the whole part of a city. Anger welled up inside of him but thanks to his mentor he managed to calm himself down but he refused to take any more elven students. It was during the time that his dad managed to get approval by the viscount to visit his son in the circle. The two managed to get along well enough after a long time apart. He also met his younger brother Calvin for the first time. The two didn't interact much but Gerald was glad to have met him.
After some time the Qunari suddenly snapped and attacked the city. Gerald was off trying to find a lost mage when he was attacked practically out of the blue by the qunari. He used his superior magical talents to simply kill off the small group of them with ease. After this he fled back to the circle where he found a group of young mages injured outside of the circle and on the brink of being slaughtered by the qunari. Disgust welled up inside of him and he slew a few more of them before forcing the others to flee. Seeing his friends dying he had no choice as he reluctantly called upon the spirits he had met in the fade and used their power to heal the wounds of the group as best as he could. After that he and his friend Harris used forced the qunari attacking them to back off. Harris was ushered off to the circle with the youngest of the mages with them and Gerald finished off the rest using a combination of funneling them through an alley, and paralysis glyphs followed up with fire magic to kill the remaining mages. He found out later that his younger brother was accidentally killed in the incident.
Following the event he took no part in the mage-templar conspiracy despite requests to do so in Kirkwall viewing them as petty and only making the already horrific situation worse. He was sickened by the knight commander but understood her reasoning and he viewed Orsino as a fool by not making drastic measures to stop it from coming to the current state. It was on the night of the annulment of the circle of Kirkwall when he was to be transferred to another circle in Orlais. A sudden outbreak in fighting occurred after a massive explosion in the middle of the city. Unsure about what was happening Harris told Gerald to get back to the circle. However his gut instinct told him that whatever was going to happen in the city was not going to end well for him. Besides the fact that he was sick of this city and all that it entailed he fled the city leaving the city to burn in the moonlight as he sailed away. Instead of going to Orlais however he fled to his uncle in Fereldan's House Capet.
His uncle informed him of what happened in the city and while he didn't know Gerald he was a strong believer that family stuck together and took Gerald in. There he took refuge as a court adviser to his uncle in regards to magical affairs keeping his magical abilities secret to everyone before deciding that he was tired of court in itself and traveled the land in search of a purpose. It was when he saw and heard of the mages had rebelled that he decided that he needed to not only become stronger but found a place where mages could not be hassled by templars but still be controlled by their peers. He didn't join the Inquisition formally but he helped them on the side with slaying dark spawn and rebels. Figuring he had nothing to lose he went to Cumberland where he joined up with an odd mercenary group just recently hoping that the odd group would allow him to find a way to become stronger and keep him out of the sights of people who preyed on lone mages as he had gotten sick of all the butchery in recent history.
Player’s long term goals: Become an Archmage, Become a expert in elemental magic, become the head of a circle or found his own.
Relations: House Capet of Kirkwall and Fereldan, Templars (he still has a few friends from his time in Kirkwall being a model mage), The former Circle of Magi, The Former Circle of Kirkwall.
Secrets: Spirits are unusually interested in him due to his power and though he plays it off he actually is very much aware of how much they are aware of him. Demons are attracted to him as well and try to convert them into one of them in an attempt to make a very powerful demon. He is also the heir to the Kirkwall House Capet branch.
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Avec une forte explosion et un nuage de fumée, le « rouleau de lit » d'Henrietta s'est levé dans une position verticale et s'est déroulé comme une fleur du matin monstrueuse en métal avant de s'effondrer dans un petit. une boîte facile à transporter. Bendant vers le bas, son armure et son équipement brillant et poli comme si elle avait passé toute la nuit à les nettoyer plutôt que de simplement dormir dedans, le nain a rapidement arraché sa roulotte vers le haut"Alors, qu'est-ce qu'il y a pour le petit déjeuner?" Elle a demandé joyeusement, sa loupe se verrouillant vers le bas en examinant l'éventail de casseroles et de casseroles mijotant au-dessus des braises. Plonger son doigt soigneusement dans une grande cuve de quelque chose de brun et bouillonner, elle brouillait le chiffre rapidement dans sa bouche avant de rayonner un sourire large et joyeux. "Mmm, Rat au vin. Mon préféré."
Atteindre Henrietta semblait matérialiser une grande cuillère et un bol de quelque part à propos de sa personne, se servir d'une aide généreuse de l'écharpe de couleur boueuse avant de trouver un endroit confortable pour s'asseoir sur la mer ci-dessous. Le temps semblait bien se tenir, avec un léger frisson donnant rapidement la place au soleil chaud comme les premiers rayons dansaient sur l'horizon lointain, et le Siren bombait joyeusement sur la marée montante tandis qu'Henrietta faisait peu de travail de sa nourriture, avant de disparaître une fois de plus ses instruments à l'endroit où ils étaient apparus en premier lieu.
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Henrietta Harrowmont .
Madcap Mechanical MenaceBasic Information
Species: Dwarf
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Appearance:
Like most of her race Henrietta is shorter than most other races, but she still stands a good couple of inches taller than most of her own people. Heavily influenced by the technologies of both the Tevinter and the Qunari, Henrietta has built herself a 'battle-harness' which incorporates any number of weird and wonderful gadgets to help her keep safe in battle. Vitae
Specialisations: Artificer, Sabotage, Subterfuge
Notable Traits:A Gadget For Every Occasion: Whenever the opportunity presents itself Henrietta loves nothing more than to dismantle and rebuild her battle-harness, upgrading and improving its design with her latest madcap invention. She always seems to have some sort of gadget to lend a helping hand to a situation, even if they don't always work in exactly the way she had intended them to.
Mechanical Mastermind: Henrietta is a genius when it comes to mechanisms, machinery and motorised marvels of all kinds. There are very few devices which, with the proper instruments and time, she cannot discover the purpose, function and operation of.
Mind Over Matter: Fully aware of her physical shortcomings, Henrietta's battle-harness has built-in strength enhancing gauntlets designed to increase the power of her punches and enable to to fight back against anyone who might try to take her inventions away from her. While this only makes her as strong as an average warrior, it still packs enough of a punch to help Henrietta out of tight corners.
Duck and Cover: The only reason Henrietta has survived this long in her experimentations is her innate ability to know when something's just about to go dreadfully wrong, and having the speed and skill to make herself vanish just before someone asks the question "Who the hell blew up my forge?"
Flaws:Fade-less: As a dwarf, Henrietta has no connection with the Fade and cannot use magics in their normal manner. While she has a resistance to lyrium in all its usual forms, she can still be affected by red lyrium over long periods or in large enough quantities.
Loose Screw: While none can doubt her skills at forging and crafting components for her latest creations, Henrietta has a habit of missing out minor, but often key, components when constructing her devices. Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem, but the tenth time... DUCK!
"What Does This Button Do?": When faced with a mystery, especially a mechanical one, Henrietta just can't stop herself from giving it a poke. Sometimes this habit of practical experimentation leads to great rewards and breakthroughs in knowledge, but at other times it can lead her and her comrades into trouble.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: Henrietta is obsessed with the number three and often has to do minor actions, such as stirring her broth, washing her bowl and tightening screws, in multiples of three. While this has no immediately detrimental effect should she not be able to complete the action, it will bug her for the rest of the day, until she can finally complete the sequence.
Skills: Spike Trap, Elemental Mines, Caltrops, Hook and Tackle, Throwing Blades, Knockout Powder and Stealth
Backstory
Biography:
Born on the surface, in a clan of dwarves living in Nevarra, Henrietta soon showed an inquisitive and curious nature which was only fed by the love of her blacksmith father. Quickly learning the ways of the hammer and tongs, Henrietta set out to discover new ways to make metal work, developing skills in precision crafting and forging which enabled her to build smaller, more efficient mechanisms each day. When the Nevarran Military discovered the young girl's gift they immediately travelled to her small settlement to make her an offer she couldn't refuse, to turn her skills towards constructing war machines which would make Nevarra the envy of the world.
Asking for some time to think over their proposal Henrietta and her entire family swiftly scarpered, leaving their village behind them to seek out a safer, less intimidating place to set up shop. For several months the dwarves journeyed around the shores of the Waking Sea, passing through numerous countries on their way, the family eventually found themselves in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains with seemingly no way to pass.
Settling down the dwarves began doing what they do best, mining. As they cut their way into the side of the mountains, uncovering ores and minerals which could be used to craft their wares, the dwarves were surprised to come across red lyrium buried deep within the rocks. Not realising what this strange material was they happily began forging it into their armour, weapons and trinkets as an adornment to their creations. Soon after they found themselves under the gaze of the Inquisition, who demanded to know where the red lyrium had come from.
After revealing their mining endeavour the dwarves were quickly evacuated from the area, for their own safety. WHile the move was sudden the poor innocents were treated with the utmost respect and soon found themselves working their trade under the Inquisition's banner. CHurning out arms and armour each day held little interest for Henrietta though, so instead she set to work building herself the means to help the Inquisition more directly, and had soon created a working prototype of her battle-harness. When presenting the mechanisms to the Inquisition forces they were less than impressed, mainly due to Henrietta managing to accidentally demolish part of the kitchens in the process.
Seeing the potential in the young and eager dwarf, and not wanting her anywhere near them when her mad inventions finally managed to reduce the area around her to a smoking crater, the Inquisition forces made enquiries as to the need amongst their allies for a blacksmith-come-death machine, and Henrietta soon found herself in the company of the Company, brave mercenaries who treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy, from as far away as they could politely get.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Dreaming of nothing more than machinery, cogs and gears Henrietta seeks to learn everything she can about the physical sciences, and to be the first to build something spectacular. She doesn't know exactly what that something may be, but she is most definitely certain about the spectacular part.
Player’s long term goals:Henrietta can be an important part of any quest, her skill with mechanisms and devices extending to locks, traps and secret doorways just as much as to machinery and engines. I'd like her to have the opportunity to build steam-aged machines to help out the party, if she can work out the science behind them first.
Relations:Henrietta's family are currently sheltered by the Inquisition, working as blacksmiths and trader on their behalf.Although her family once had times with the Noble House of Harrowmont, as a Surface Dwarf Henrietta has no contact with Orzammar and only limited knowledge of dwarven beliefs and traditions.
While not Andrastian herself she holds a deep respect for their faith and accepts many of their customer and rituals as her own.Henrietta is currently wanted by the Nevarran Military, although as they only wish to recruit her they wouldn't want to take any overtly aggressive actions against her, least they drive her into the hands of their rivals.
Secrets:The power supply for Henrietta's battle-harness is a refined red lyrium reactor, which harnesses the power of the strange element in order to make her mechanisms function. The long-term effects of exposure to the material, even in its heavily shielded state, are currently unknown, and should the containment ever be breached the red lyrium could adversely affect everyone Henrietta comes into contact with.
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Lian a soigneusement fini d'attacher ses poignards à son dos. Elle était réconfortée par le poids familier des lames entre ses omoplates. Elle s'est penchée pour s'assurer que la corde attachée au cou de Snuffles était assez serrée pour qu'il ne s'échappe pas. Elle avait déjà emballé le reste de ses affaires et l'avait chargé dans le wagon alors qu'elle marchait vers l'endroit où se trouvait le petit déjeuner et avait pris un petit coup de main. Elle a mangé rapidement et quand elle a fini, elle s'est assise près du wagon, pas d'humeur à parler parce qu'il était encore tôt le matin.
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Lian Wai
Lightning Slash
Basic Information
Species:
Elf
Age:
27
Gender:
Female
Class:
Rogue
Appearance:
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations:
Duelist/Tempest
Notable Traits:
Andrastian
Despite being raised in a Dalish clan, Lian is a avid believer of the Maker and his wife Andraste. Though she doesn't openly say she does she does remember bits and pieces of the Chant of Light.
Nature Resistant
Lian is resistant to nature attacks due to being raised out in nature and being a friend to nature.
Flaws:
Has a younger sister who last she knew was still back home in the Dalish camp she lived in.
Has a limp due to a old injury to her left leg.
Is very sensitive about people being rude towards elves.
Skills:
Rouge-
Twin Fangs
Spinning Blades
Dance of Death
Tempest-
Flask of Cold
Flask of Fire
Duelist-
Throw the Gaunlet
Vendetta
Backstory
Biography
Lian was born in Northern Ferelden in a Dalish camp. She spent the first two years of her life living happily with her mother and father when her little sister was born. Sadly their happy little family didn't last long when her mother died a few days later from unknown complications.
As Lian grew she worked her hardest to be the best Dalish Elf that she could be, taking it upon herself to care for her sister when her father was hunting and also learning about Dalish culture and history.
When she was ten her life was once again changed when her father disappeared while hunting one evening leaving Lian with her sister and the rest of the Dalish camp.
When Lian was ten she started to learn to hunt but had no real skill with a bow so she spent most of her time in camp. However when she was fourteen she was dared by one of her friends to go out and hunt a bear. That ended in disaster when Lian was attacked by the bear, she was lucky to escape with her life but in the process her left leg was badly injured and once healed left her with a permanent limp.
A year later, shortly after she turned fifteen she left the camp to travel on her own, armed only with her smarts and a pet Nug, she named him Snuffles, her sister gave him to her as a going away present. She traveled from Northern Ferelden towards the Hinterlands to find work and to also learn how to fight.
She was eventually taken under the wing of a rouge who taught her how to use two blades and taught her how to be a Duelist. Another man in the town she was staying in also taught her how to be a Tempest. Though the two men were murdered in front of her eyes, breaking her already shattered life apart again and ruining her innocence causing her to become twisted under her sweet and innocent exterior.
When she was twenty-four she left the town and traveled again, taking mercenary jobs to earn money. She eventually ended up joining with the Inquisition shortly after she turned twenty-six, after spending two years taking jobs. After the events of Inquisition was over she was twenty-seven. She decided to stick with the group and that's where the rest is explanatory.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Lian on a good day is very smart and sharp, easily catching mean remarks towards her or Elfish kind. She's also very quick to anger and isn't afraid to start a battle if thinks it's right. She's a little shy when you first meet her despite the fact she's been traveling for twelve years. She's also protective of her friends and her clan and is willing to give her life to save others. Underneath her innocent and calm exterior however is a very twisted girl, willing to use that innocent exterior to make her enemies trust her and the to destroy them with slashing blades and a fiery potion.
Player’s long term goals:
Lian's long term goals aren't much.
She wishes to return to her clan after a while and give any money she has made to them.
She wishes to see her little sister again.
Finally she also wishes to figure out what actually happened to her father when he never came back to camp,
Relations:
Lian has few relations despite traveling for many years. However, she does have good relations with her Dalish clan and people she's taken jobs from.
Secrets:
Lian keeps secret that she is terrified of bears, they're what caused her to earn her limp at the age of fourteen.
She keeps the fact that her father may be alive a secret, not knowing if it's true or not.
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La bête massive qui était Sasha est sortie du pinceau avec Paxton pas loin dans le remorquage. Le mage barbu chantait un air joyeux tandis que son compagnon animal prenait place à côté d'un arbre près duquel elle commençait à lécher le sang de ses pattes. Ce serait une vue commune pour tous ceux qui étaient dans la bande mercenaire assez longtemps. Paxton s'est levé tôt, a mangé son petit déjeuner, puis a accompagné Sasha sur la chasse ici. Cette fois-ci, ils ont réussi à attraper un astucieux, il devrait attacher Sasha pour un certain temps.
Avec un sourire sur son visage, Paxton regarda ses frères et sœurs dans les bras. Bonjour à tous. J'ai confiance que vous avez tous bien dormi." Il a dit qu'il marchait jusqu'au feu brûlant. Il s'étendit alors qu'il prenait l'odeur du petit déjeuner de son compagnon.
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"Let the blade pass through the flesh, Let my blood touch the ground, Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice. -Andraste 7:12"
Paxton Arkwright
Bloodwrath
Basic Information
Species
Human/Abomination
Age
33
Gender
Male
Class
Mage/Warrior
Appearance
Paxton is a tall man, standing at 6'4 in height, with a muscular body build. His skin is slightly on the pale side and is peppered with scars from countless misadventures in his life, though there are a series of them that rack his arms that stand out among the rest. His hair is a dark, ash black and normally hangs down below his shoulders in a uncombed mess, though on occasion he has been known to tie it back into a loose ponytail. He has a slightly trimmed beard that covers the lower half of his face, left unattended for too long it will easily match that of a Dwarf's. His eyes are a bright amber color, on the verge of being yellow, and hold a certain sharpness to them.
Unlike traditional mages Paxton does not wear robes, instead he wears a set of leather armor. The armor is colored in a mixture of dark grey and black. He wears an amulet of Andraste under his armor almost at all times. Paxton has a large slightly tattered collared coat he normally wears over his armor. Another thing that separates Paxton from the usual mage is that he does not carry a staff at all.
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations
Knight-Enchanter, Blood Mage, Reaver
Notable Traits
Master Of The Game
Paxton had spent years mingling with members of the highest society as he served as one of the Divine's elite mage guards. As such he is more than use to surviving the cut throat politics that Orlesian call their Grand Game, in fact he was once quite the avid player. Paxton can exchange words as well as the most pampered and schooled nobles Thedas has to offer. He once prided himself on his skill to fool bards, who were supposedly the most skilled members of the game
Andrastian
Paxton is a devoted follower of the Chantry. He worships the Maker and his mortal bride Andraste. He has memorized most of the chant of light, which is no easy feat, and has even at one point sung through the whole chant, which took about three weeks to complete. He is known to throw a Chant line or two into conversation if it relates to the matter on hand, he has even been caught singing the Chant to merely pass the time. Though many may find it hypocritical for Paxton to call himself a follower of the Chantry given his choice of combat use, Paxton says what he does is a necessary evil that must be done.
Elf-Blooded
Though one may not guess it from merely looking upon him Paxton is actually indeed a half-Elf. His mother was a Elven maid and his father the inn keeper where his mother work. The two fell in love and the product of their romance was Paxton. Because of this Paxton has a soft spot for Elven kind and their plight, often times getting into bloody fights whenever he hears someone use the expression "knife-ear".
Cat Person
No offence to the Fereldans and their Mabari, but Paxton had always preferred felines over hounds. Paxton always respected the creatures' craftiness, not to mention found them quite adorable. Plus Paxton's dislike for dog slobber pushed him towards cats. You can only imagine what he thoughts when he came upon a group of bandits attacking what looked like a defenseless kitty. After a less than pleasant bout of bandit stomping Paxton went to treat the cat only to find out it was a red lion cub, apparently the bandits had killed her mother. Paxton did the only thing he thought was right and took in the cub, naming her Sasha. Ever since Paxton had been raising her, some say just as well as any other red lion parent could, and Sasha has grown into quite the deadly and beautiful creature.
Flaws
Battle Enthusiast
Master of the Game or not Paxton has no problem jumping into battle, he rather enjoys it in fact. If one's first attempt at talking fails Paxton would more than likely already be moving in for his first, maybe even last, attack on whoever they were trying to convince. He is basically the equivalent of a battle harden Qunari with the short temper of a drunken Dwarf.
Wanted By The Orlesian Chantry
Paxton's past has left him as a wanted man of the Orlesian Chantry, he has to be very weary any time he sets foot on Orlesian soil do to the great and wide power the Chantry holds there.
Wrath Within
Paxton is not alone in his own body or mind, he is in a sense an Abomination. For he harbors a demon of Wrath in side of himself. Unlike other mages who harbor a spirit of the Fade inside themselves and allow themselves to be over taken by it Paxton has tamed this beast to a extent. The demon serves as a resource of immense power and knowledge, but always posses a threat. If Paxton is not careful with his emotional state the demon can and has taken control of its host, at which point it brings Paxton's inner hatred and furry down upon anyone or thing near by, regardless of friend or foe.
Skills
Fade Cloak
Paxton shifts from a physical form to that of a cloud of blood mist. While in this form Paxton is invulnerable and can pass through enemies with out penalty. When he rematerializes he does so in a small crimson burst of blood that wounds and knock backs enemies.
Spirit Blade
Paxton's hands become surrounded by blood that form into monstrous claws that can cut as deep as any blade.
Blood Magic
Paxton uses the blood of his foes to fuel his power and continue his slaughtering sprees.
Ring Of Pain
Paxton claims his spot on the battle field and fights with the ferocity of a dragon, turning any foe foolish enough to come close into stains on the ground.
Devour
Paxton rips into his foes and uses their blood in order to heal his own wounds
Dragon-Rage
Paxton uses his dragon infused blood to strengthen the power of his claws. This power only increases with the damage Paxton endures.
Backstory
Biography
Paxton's life started like all mage lives do, he was stripped away from his family at the tender age of six and sent to the Circle of Magi, though to his fortune the Nevarran Circles have much more freedom when compared to the rest of Thedas when excluding the Tevinter Imperium.
He was quite the talented student when it came to his studies, accelerating ahead of his peers. He was even the youngest apprentice in the Nevarran Circle's history to go through the Harrowing, at only the age of fifteen. It wasn't long after his Harrowing that Paxton requested to be transferred to the Orlesian Circle of Magi, The White Spire, in the hopes to study the magic of the Knight-Enchanters. As a fully fledge mage his request was deemed acceptable and he was transferred to the White Spire.
The years after that Paxton did nothing but train in the arts of the Knight-Enchanter, which eventually not only did he become one but he was also requested to become one of the Elite Knight-Enchanter bodyguards of the Divine herself. Needless to say Paxton accepted.
Paxton spent years in service to the Divine, saving her life countless times from would be killers. He was held in high regard among the Chantry, they seeing him as what a mage should be, but all that changed once Paxton's secret came to light. It turned out for years that Paxton had not only been studying blood magic, but also practicing it actively, even going as for to drink the blood of a dragon and becoming a Reaver.
All this was revealed when an assassin got the better of him, managing to fire an arrow through Paxton's shoulder, and was about to cut down the Divine. Paxton did the only thing he could think of to save her, he used blood magic to force the assassin to run his blade across his own throat.
Though he saved her Paxton was labeled a Maleficar by the Chantry and was sentenced to become a Tranquil, though the Divine seemed remorseful about this verdict. He swore he never used the magic to manipulate anyone for his own personal gain, but no one cared about that fact and the matter was closed. The night before he was supposed to go through the Rite of Tranquility he managed to escape because someone left the door to his cell unlocked, something he questions to this day.
Paxton wandered for months, hiding from Templars and chantry members alike. Paxton had become so desperate for survival he eventually made a deal with a powerful demon of Wrath for power, allowing the demon to enter this world through his body. The demon attempted to over take Paxton's will, but underestimated the mage's power. The result was that the two were now bound together in a single body.
Though he now had a demon housed inside of him Paxton had become remarkably stronger. He used this strength to evade or scare off further pursues. Not long after Paxton found himself in league with a mercenary group. At first he aligned with them as they provided the perfect cover from Templars, but he eventually formed a bond and kinship with his brothers and sisters in arms.
The group, along with Paxton, at some point were hired by the reformed Inquisition as soldiers, which Paxton greatly approved of. With the Rift Crises averted and their job done Paxton and the group of mercenaries are now on the search for coin and new adventures.
Personality and/or Motivation
Paxton is a sharp fellow born with a quick wit and quicker tongue. He is just as likely to make a smart remark comment as he is to deck you in the face. He is quite hardy, loving a good laugh and drink. He is no stranger to manipulation, having been on both ends of it, and knows that you have to be carful around everyone as they more likely than not are waiting to stab you in the back. Though under his rugged exterior Paxton is quite the noble soul, holding strong in his moral code of protecting the little guy and destroying wrong doers. Though he does know in order to do good one may have to do actions that most may label as evil.
Player’s long term goals
Paxton had felt lost and broken ever sense his life was turned upside down the day his secret was brought to light. He has found solace in the kinship of his brothers and sisters in arms of the mercenary group. He now tries to ensures the safety and well being of each of his comrades, even if it means putting his own hide on the line.
Relations
Many of the bridges Paxton had built over the years were burned when his being a Blood Mage was reviled. Though he may be able to come upon a old friend, be they mage or Templar, from his days in the towers who wouldn't mind showing him kindness. His main connections and ties happen to be the other members of the mercenary group.
Secrets
Though the rest of the group is aware of his given situation with Wrath, Paxton tends to keep the fact that he communicates with Wrath on a nearly constant bases to himself. He does not want people to think he is indeed being influenced by the demon.
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Gerald a vu l'autre mage sortir de la chasse et a été heureux au moins qu'ils aient de la nourriture. "Je dors assez bien, je suppose. Nous ne sommes pas à une auberge mais au moins l'air est frais comparativement. J'aurais quand même préféré un lit." Gerald a simplement commenté alors qu'il a terminé son décompte et est allé prendre sa part du petit déjeuner. Il ne l'avait pas attrapé plus tôt pour s'assurer qu'il avait assez de temps pour faire ses valises. À part ça, il mangeait assez vite. Tu devais l'être si tu étais au milieu de nulle part comme il l'était pendant ses voyages. Les dangers planent partout dans les endroits les plus sûrs.
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Name: Gerald Capet
Species: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Class: Mage
Appearance:
Gerald has a thin but not frail build that reflects his time of study and shelter in the Kirkwall Circle of Magi. He has very little muscle having only gained such from his long walk back to Fereldan after the Kirkwall Incident. He has pasty white skin with very little color and dark grey eyes. His hair is blonde and is short cut but almost straw like in how it looks. He has a thin nose and is about the size of the average human male. He gives off a very nonthreatening presence due to his appearance however at will that can change as he can use his pure raw magical might to frighten most people with ease due to his training while visiting his family in Fereldan showing him how to project himself like a noble.
Curriculum Vitae:
Specializations:
Spirit Healer
Primal
Entropy
Creation
Notable Traits:
Extremely potent magi (he can cast powerful spells and he can cast a lot of smaller spells)
Very talented in elemental spells mainly the fire Branch
Very capable of learning quickly in regards to the magical arts
Can adapt well in the middle of a battle
Mentally strong (isn't easily seduced by spirits and people trying to break him).
Flaws:
Extremely poor stealth skills
Average to poor levels of physical strength
Untrained in physical weapons (bows, melee, weapons, shields, etc)
Lacks charisma and leadership capabilities (meaning he can't lead anything smaller than a handful of people)
Lacks armor training (meaning he doesn't move as well if in armor which piles on top of his already poor maneuverability)
Has rather poor flexibility (movement wise)
Skills:
Arcane Bolt
Arcane Shield
Staff Focus
Flame Blast
Flaming Weapons
Fireball
Winter Grasp
Lightning
Shock
Disorient
Glyph of Paralysis
Heal
Group Heal
Mind Blast
Biography:
Born in Kirkwall to the Noble House of Capet he was born to a family that needed an heir direly in Kirkwall. As first born he was to be heir to their house but there was a catch...he was born with an incredible magical power. His father Devon Capet was reluctant to give him up due to his own nightmares about his son's futures both in his sleep and in the political scene he kept this hidden from the Knight Commander. His mother agreed to go along with this and they chose to keep their son in their house with the family butler Alfred at all times except on rare occasions when they needed him to leave. His parents were extremely cautious with their young son and as such they had Alfred study spirits and other arcane things in order to help their son. Alfred comforted young Gerald as he grew up early in life with dreams of spirits of valor showing themselves to Gerald in his dreams as a young lad, and when he'd wake up in a panic at night through nightmares where pride demons tried to coax the young lad into letting them into him. Gerald came to view spirits as black and white and they were either good or evil as his father Devon told him.
As he grew older he began to show more tangible signs of power when he nearly burned the clothes off his father in one incident and froze his pencils by mistake. His family took a apostate into the household in order to teach young Gerald about his powers only for it to lead to an incident where in the market where he confused an older Templar by using his magic for being a jerk to Alfred. The Templars went to his father and demanded to him that they release Gerald into their custody. His father reluctantly accepted and he went to the circle of magi with the man who'd later allow him to escape Kirkwall Harris Mackley.
When he first entered the circle he was unsure and hesitant to talk to others but he soon gained many friends as he found peers who shared his powers. He also grew to hate elves as a certain group of mages taunted him for being a 'blue blooded craven' and taunted him constantly. As he started his new journey in the circle he passed his Harrowing after two years in the circle with minimal ease due to his past experience with spirits. His time in the circle was spent learning under Orsino's left hand Victor Stark, a human man born in the Free Marches who was sent to this circle due to the lack of teachers in Kirkwall.
Under Victor's strict tutoring Gerald learned how to use his affinity for fire magic to quickly become a formidable mage of note in Kirkwall. He also slowly grew to have a distaste for the Knight Commander who was clamping down on mages ever more over the years. He grew to respect a few of the people who held him captive and understand why they were there exactly as he lost a friend to a harrowing when he turned into an abomination despite Gerald's warnings to the contrary. Having lost his friend he vowed he'd do better to warn people about the dangers of spirits and demons himself and began to tutor younger mages to their relief. It was not until the Blight started however that his life would change drastically.
When people started to flood into Kirkwall the templars stationed there became more controlling over the mages causing some to chafe under their tightening collars and due to a surge in blood mages and apostates running around the island they became even more paranoid. Gerald on the other hand simply continued to teach the students who asked for help and those who were struggling with studies when he was informed that he had a new baby brother who was not a mage. He was mixed about this news and in the end chose to ignore it as it dealt about politics no longer of interest to him. He also ended up with a surge of new mages from Fereldan who were forced into his circle leading to more packed quarters and more people to deal with which stressed his mentor Victor. As the Qunari arrived things simply became that much worse as the templars and politicians grew more and more restless as with the surge in apostates, blood mages, Carta, and qunari deserters. Though he had few interactions with the Qunari he found them disgusting creatures as they served through the Qun which essentially made them all of one mind. No individuality among them and all of them served without question. Those who didn't became bandits who ravaged the coast. What good was being grouped together if there was no chance to diverge and evolve?
Gerald gave little trouble to the templars due to his own fears of them cracking down on mages became more and more true. The mages who feared the templars only drove them to tighten the noose around them and caused scuffles between them. Orsino sought out Victor's council more and more leaving Gerald to tend to his own duties. However he had increasingly been visited by various spirits in the fade while sleeping who taught him many things including how to heal others. Gerald took this knowledge in hand but refused to use it primarily because he didn't trust spirits after the harrowing and his own nightmares with demons and on the side because he didn't want to be strung up like some sort of abomination. As his fame in the circle grew he met with the Grey Wardens who considered him for recruitment but were denied by Victor's objections and Gerald's own polite rejections.
It was on the eve of the night when the poor quarter of Kirkwall was attacked by a mad elf the solidified the distrust between him and elves. Gerald already found them repulsive due to their pride and their insistence that the Dalish were better but now an elven mad woman had poisoned the whole part of a city. Anger welled up inside of him but thanks to his mentor he managed to calm himself down but he refused to take any more elven students. It was during the time that his dad managed to get approval by the viscount to visit his son in the circle. The two managed to get along well enough after a long time apart. He also met his younger brother Calvin for the first time. The two didn't interact much but Gerald was glad to have met him.
After some time the Qunari suddenly snapped and attacked the city. Gerald was off trying to find a lost mage when he was attacked practically out of the blue by the qunari. He used his superior magical talents to simply kill off the small group of them with ease. After this he fled back to the circle where he found a group of young mages injured outside of the circle and on the brink of being slaughtered by the qunari. Disgust welled up inside of him and he slew a few more of them before forcing the others to flee. Seeing his friends dying he had no choice as he reluctantly called upon the spirits he had met in the fade and used their power to heal the wounds of the group as best as he could. After that he and his friend Harris used forced the qunari attacking them to back off. Harris was ushered off to the circle with the youngest of the mages with them and Gerald finished off the rest using a combination of funneling them through an alley, and paralysis glyphs followed up with fire magic to kill the remaining mages. He found out later that his younger brother was accidentally killed in the incident.
Following the event he took no part in the mage-templar conspiracy despite requests to do so in Kirkwall viewing them as petty and only making the already horrific situation worse. He was sickened by the knight commander but understood her reasoning and he viewed Orsino as a fool by not making drastic measures to stop it from coming to the current state. It was on the night of the annulment of the circle of Kirkwall when he was to be transferred to another circle in Orlais. A sudden outbreak in fighting occurred after a massive explosion in the middle of the city. Unsure about what was happening Harris told Gerald to get back to the circle. However his gut instinct told him that whatever was going to happen in the city was not going to end well for him. Besides the fact that he was sick of this city and all that it entailed he fled the city leaving the city to burn in the moonlight as he sailed away. Instead of going to Orlais however he fled to his uncle in Fereldan's House Capet.
His uncle informed him of what happened in the city and while he didn't know Gerald he was a strong believer that family stuck together and took Gerald in. There he took refuge as a court adviser to his uncle in regards to magical affairs keeping his magical abilities secret to everyone before deciding that he was tired of court in itself and traveled the land in search of a purpose. It was when he saw and heard of the mages had rebelled that he decided that he needed to not only become stronger but found a place where mages could not be hassled by templars but still be controlled by their peers. He didn't join the Inquisition formally but he helped them on the side with slaying dark spawn and rebels. Figuring he had nothing to lose he went to Cumberland where he joined up with an odd mercenary group just recently hoping that the odd group would allow him to find a way to become stronger and keep him out of the sights of people who preyed on lone mages as he had gotten sick of all the butchery in recent history.
Player’s long term goals: Become an Archmage, Become a expert in elemental magic, become the head of a circle or found his own.
Relations: House Capet of Kirkwall and Fereldan, Templars (he still has a few friends from his time in Kirkwall being a model mage), The former Circle of Magi, The Former Circle of Kirkwall.
Secrets: Spirits are unusually interested in him due to his power and though he plays it off he actually is very much aware of how much they are aware of him. Demons are attracted to him as well and try to convert them into one of them in an attempt to make a very powerful demon. He is also the heir to the Kirkwall House Capet branch.
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Cassius sortit de là où il était couché: sous une tente où il avait un petit feu pour travailler avec sa cuisine, pendant la dernière heure, il faisait des petits gâteaux. Ceux-ci seraient utilisés pour le rationnement. Facile à manger, bonne quantité et sombre. Il a même versé un peu de crème de beurre glaçant sur eux.
"Désormais tout." Il a dit avant de placer les petits délices dans des conteneurs et de les placer dans son sac à dos.
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Name: Cassius Alexandros Svent.
Nickname: Cas.
Species: Half breed, Human and Elf.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Class: Rogue/ mage hybrid.
Appearance: Stands at 5'11 to 6ft, hour class frame, large feet, broad shoulders, scrawny arms. Cream colored skin, hazel green eyes, shoulder length dark chocolate brown hair. Somewhat of a straight nose, beak like. Wide hips, thick thighs.
As for clothes he mostly wears Blue and Black Velvet like garments that are light and easy to move in. Most of which have clashing patterns that overlap in an elegant yet messy way.
Specializations: Arcane Warrior, Spirit healer.
Notable Traits: He tends to be observant as well as quiet, has a lisp, tends to fold his arms, move his hands and body accordingly when he speaks, and usually stares blank faced.
Flaws: He has several minor scars on his face, to a dent in the middle of his forehead. His right fore arm has cut on it as well as the elbow. In terms of a personality flaw, he tends to take things too seriously at times, to just being snide and sarcastic. He also is tranquil in the sense of personality, but in truth he is very caring despite his sense of apathy.
Skills: Healing, regenerative spells, revival, because of being an arcane Warrior, he can fight with a sword effectively as well as utalize all Arcane Warrior skills. Fade step, telekinetic weapons as well as mindblast. Occasionally he will do a low blow to throwing dirt in one's eyes. Tier two Lockpicking and pickpoketing,Dispell and Evasion.
Outside of combat, he also knows a bit of alchemy. He can make minor tonics provided he has the materials.
Biography: He was born as a slave to a family in the Imperium as he was sold off by his parents. Rather then being treated as a slave, he was treated as an apprentice on the estate he lived in, but he still witnessed jarring things that made him not feel as safe, such as torture of other hand maids of the lord of the estate. At times it would either be beheadings, to severe branding by magic, to entropy to drive others to insanity, the screams always made him feel unsafe and gave him the mentality he could be next, that they could snap on him relatively quickly.
With fear being his drive to try to be proper and show no fear, he did whatever he was tasked, even if he was a failure at some relatively new task, such as forging items from materials, to being able to use major magics. He was only capable of minor magics, and his overlord took note of this. His overlord in particular and wanted to see the potential of halfbreeds, fortunately the results of his capability were better in terms of utility and flexibility. This pleased the overlord throughout the years he had trained him to do basic skills in his garden.
In the gardens he had many plants to work with, wither it be in cooking, or alchemy, he learned just enough to get by. He did however enjoy cooking, this was something his overlord found amusing. "A halfbreed enjoying the arts of cooking?", it was funny for a while at how excited young Cassius was to learn how to make simple things like bread to small pastries, it was something even a bit heart warming to those around. When he cooked, he was considerate of the slaves, which raised many eyebrows on the estate.
When he was inside, he enjoyed solving little puzzles from contraptions made, to disarming minor traps. It was fun to him, and amusing to see what triggers devices to what also disables them.
When he was just seventeen, the Overlord of the estate left on a business trip to inquire about his next set of slaves, and to his dismay,the son of the lord watched over the estate in his absence. During this period, Cassius was sliced, bruised, and abused by the Young lord. Cassius had enough when he saw himself bleeding, to one of the maids being outright stabbed over trying to defend the teenager. Cassius put his skills and reflexes to the test, in which he killed the Lord's son, and left with several slaves. He even took one of the most expensive set of clothes for his new life, with a handful of gems, and a Saber that belonged to the house.
He fled Tevinter where he'd escape to Ferelden, a land of opportunity. There, he heard legends of the land, events that he was sheltered from. It was clear to him his life was far from simply starting. To make it in life, he want to look for job opportunities.
Personality: He is inquisitive, snide, caring, and ultimately tranquil in terms of mental state about most things, so he is passively neutral unless the situation directly effects him.
Motivation:To make the most of his new life and break away from his innocence to do something with his life rather then sit down and do nothing.
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Marcellus a trébuché de derrière un des arbres sombres et secs, philtre caché dans la paume d'une main gantée et lyrique ternissant tout, de la croûte interne dans sa poitrine au tremblement qui courait de haut en bas de sa main. Remerciez le Créateur pour les nains, pour les contrebandiers et tous ceux qui en ont créé et maintenu le commerce illégal.
Et remerciez le Créateur pour ses propres approvisionnements durables!
Il s'était réveillé dans les premières heures du matin (non pas qu'il dormait vraiment) et avait agité le reste de la nuit en essayant d'éviter de prendre son tirant d'eau – si seulement ce qu'il avait duré tout le voyage à travers les routes profondes – mais c'était inévitable. Ah, eh bien... il ne pouvait pas et ne voulait pas que ça le dérange.
Marcellus a épargné un coup d'œil à sa roulotte, déjà roulée et prête à bouger, et s'est agenouillée près du feu de camp pour lacer ses bottes, ignorant le reste de son apparence nettement déshabillée. Il ne pouvait pas monter les sacs sous ses yeux ou sa chemise dédoublée, c'était sûr. L'odeur de la cuisson du petit déjeuner a tourné son estomac plus que les vagues de la mer jamais eu.
Nous disons au revoir à la côte aujourd'hui, n'est-ce pas? Je ne peux pas dormir avec tous les – whoosh de l'océan," Marcellus a demandé. Bien sûr, il y aurait toujours quelque chose pour le voler loin du repos – pas seulement l'eau. Ce seraient les animaux, les plantes, la brise, la respiration de son groupe ou une autre excuse.
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Vocula
MagebaneBasic Information
Species: Human (Half-Dwarf)
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Class: Templar Hunter (Warrior-Rogue)
Appearance:
Short, stocky but surprisingly swift on his feet, Marcellus seems to have inherited few characteristics of either his father's or his mother's side. While only 5'6" (from a maternal line of relative giants!) and with none of the mad, maniacal evil expected of Tevinter magi, he seems... average. Unusually friendly, for a 'Vint, with a near-permanent smile.
Marcellus is conventionally handsome, more so as he ages. Brown (prematurely greying) hair, tan skin, a carefully cultivated beard and more than a few swoon-worthy scars – if the one running from nose to ear wasn't so eyecatching, or disfiguring. He is usually seen in more casual armor, expensive leathers with chainmail only on rare occasions.
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations:
Templar
Assassin
Shadow
Notable Traits:
Magic Resistance – Marcellus has the thick skin of his Dwarven father's side, albeit not to the same degree. He can shrug off weak bolts of magic from staves (at least when it comes to the Arcane... fire's a different story) and is far more resistant than a normal human and even a normal Templar when it comes to hypnotism or mind control. His mind is near-unbreakable, some might say. It might not be true.
Light-Footed – Well, when he's not talking and is entirely focused on a fight. No matter what armor Marcellus is wearing, it's hard not to notice that he moves silently whether purposefully trying to be stealthy or not. Since he is, by nature, a cheeky bugger, he likes to use it to startle friends and allies.
Flaws:
Insomniac – Perhaps it's due to paranoia, a natural sort born from looking over one's shoulder all the time. Or, more likely, it's the lyrium. Marcellus allows himself to sleep rarely and when he does it's marked by terrible nightmares.
Weak-willed – At least, when it comes to demons of Desire. Marcellus is a simple man of various wants, and he's made deals with both spirits and demons in the past, though none that have transformed him into an abomination. He thinks himself "careful".
Lyrium Addiction – So it turns out that, like alcohol, it takes a lot of lyrium to give a half-dwarf a buzz of power. Despite the scarcity of the resource for the Templars in Tevinter, Marcellus sought it out himself... a contributing reason as to why he made it to his thirtieth year when so many other recruits didn't. He might not be having the memory loss and confusion yet but the pent-up aggression and withdrawal symptoms always loom over the horizon for when he runs out. And he runs out a lot.
Skills:
Cleanse
Silence
Wrath of Heaven
Assassinate
Inconspicuous
Stealth
Twin Fangs
Backstory
Biography:
Not a sad story, but certainly not a happy one. The current head of the Vocula family is a woman by the name of Diantha, the mother of both Marcellus and an older son – the heir. While her lineage is preserved in Caius Vocula, Marcellus was nothing more than a mistake, though a passionate one. Requiring vast shipments of lyrium, most of which was delivered by the Carta, she dealt with one dwarf in particular so often that she had a short-lived and doomed affair with him... and she got a discount to boot. While Diantha Vocula is a woman of strange tastes and notorious promiscuity (not even mentioning the blood magic), it was probably not worth the social suicide that was carrying a half-dwarf child to term.
(Her reputation eventually bounced back, mostly to do with the quality of her magical studies and raw power itself, but that doesn't matter much.)
Marcellus was, of course, born without magic and only a slight connection to the Fade. It was a miracle he didn't take after his father more and was actually able to dream in the first place. While of course his Dwarven heritage was covered up, it was more of an open secret. Protection runes and barriers didn't stick to him as well as they did others, particularly when they were cast by his weak older brother to test him. Diantha did love her son, though, a strange woman no doubt, and wanted only the best for him. Naturally, she used her political sway to have him trained by the Imperial Chantry as one of the few templars they had there. Marcellus was not the only nobleman born without magic, after all.
Lyrium was a commodity for mage-use only, of course, and so his Order did not rely on it as those in Fereldan or Orlesian orders did. That is likely a contributing reason to the absurdly high death toll of the Imperial Templars – just bodies to throw at an abomination until it gives up. Propaganda dictated that the Andrastian Chantry gave their Templars lyrium as a leash, but as someone with connections on the "outside", Marcellus found at least part of the truth: it made them more powerful. By securing himself to several different magisters (not a slave, but a faithful servant, no less useful than an Antivan Crow) he managed to acquire a supply of lyrium...
Having no knowledge of the dangers of the substance, nor that the Templar abilities required training, Marcellus did nothing but acquire his fatal flaw: his addiction. By his early twenties, Marcellus was under the thumb of it with no recognisable rewards and mages were getting more dangerous by the day (or perhaps he was getting weaker) so he of course sought someone out to train him up. One of the Vocula slaves had been one, once, traded over from Fereldan during the blight though the man was now useless with withdrawal.
He managed to teach Marcellus the very basics – how to call upon the lyrium in his blood, how to cleanse an area and how to stop spellcasting – in exchange for his freedom. Of course, once he was given it, he turned around and tried to assassinate Diantha, so he was forced to kill him. Unfortunate, but probably a relief to his suffering.
Spooked by the knowledge that if he ran out of lyrium like the slave then he'd end up a wreck, Marcellus started to take more under the guise of "training his newfound abilities". Word started to spread of a templar with the ability to take away magic. A dangerous rumour in Tevinter, but undoubtedly profitable. Magisters asked the Imperial Chantry for the Vocula heir's services to quell an uprising or coup, and he did so, striking from the shadows and taking out those squishy little mages; the ones without good tuition and too much experimentation.
This lasted up until his mid-twenties, when Marcellus met his "love" Sulpicia – the wife of a new magister with a lot of lyrium on hand. She had him as a guard for a year (since new magisters were notoriously prone to unexpected death) and if anything only made his lyrium problem worse. But she was beautiful, yes. Still, when the Vocula family started a feud of sorts with her husband, Marcellus picked a side – arguably the wrong one.
His family. He murdered her husband using all those stealthy, sneaky mage-killing abilities for no real reward, cutting off his supply of lyrium. At the very least he was given fair warning to flee from Minrathous and Tevinter as a whole, so he did, full of self-righteousness and thinking he did what was best. Not his proudest moment, though not a move he regrets taking. It didn't take long for him to find out that life outside the Imperial Chantry was a lot more difficult – at least when it came to finding lyrium to take. For all his pride, Marcellus ended up a mercenary. It wasn't that much different to life before. Back then it was the Black Chantry taking on the jobs from the magisters and directing them out like loyal lapdogs.
Sometimes, people just wanted mages dead, and he could help with that.
So long as the pay was good.
Motivation:
When it comes to the short-term, Marcellus is painfully self-aware and honest with even himself. He seeks only drink and debauchery, with a few fights in between to satiate his appetite for battle. Coin isn't the true motivator behind his mercenary work; it's what he can buy with it – lyrium.
Long-term? He's not so sure. He's not a mage, so living in Tevinter for the rest of his life is near-impossible, if only because there's no purpose for him there. Protecting the innocents is fun and all but in other lines of work it doesn't pay the bills. His pride is non-existent now, so life as a mercenary is for him, no matter how distasteful it can be at times. If a small part of him wants to settle down, find a partner... Well. There's always something more pressing, like an addiction, to cover first.
Goals:Beat a Qunari in a drinking contest;
Become Knight-Captain;
Become filthy rich off adventuring like the Champion of Kirkwall;
Buy enough lyrium to dose up into old age or senility, which ever comes first;
And perhaps kill a dragon. That sounds interesting.
Relations:
The Imperial Chantry – Left of his own accord four years ago... Without telling anyone where he was going or why. Whether they are upset with him or not for leaving as he did during the dead of night, Marcellus doesn't particularly want to find out.
House Vocula – His esteemed mother's family of Altus magi, of which he is the only non-mage (due to his status as a bastard and his unfortunate Dwarven blood). His mother is still alive, the head of the female-dominated family and flighty, though undoubtedly soft on her youngest son.
House Caecina – Sulpicia's house, or at least the one she married into. To say that Marcellus is not on good terms with them would be putting it lightly.
The Carta – Sure, it's a bit amoral name-dropping his father who he's never met in his life, but the man (if he's even still alive) seems to have no problem with it... if he knows. Marcellus deals with the Carta for his lyrium fix and has in the past gotten decent side-jobs from them, few of them legal.
Secrets:
His lyrium addiction itself.
Probably the large numbers of dissenting mages in Tevinter he executed – the unsavoury sort, of course. Depending on who his allies are, it might be best not to have unwanted fireballs sent his way.
As vehemently as he denies taking part in any sort of politics, he is aware of The Grand Game of Orlais as Tevinter has something... similar. Just with more slaves and necromancy and abominations.
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Fredrick s'est emparé de sa hache dans les deux mains. Ses camarades l'apprirent, et Fredrick sourit avec confiance. Il a hissé sa hache de bataille, en marchant sur le côté comme un grand Drake chargé sur lui. Fredrick Lanced a mis deux fois avec sa hache, la foudre rapide, se détacher d'une jambe, et puis se diviser le cou est ouvert sur la coupe supérieure.
"Quatre!" Il a appelé.
"Sept!" Un de ses compagnons a rappelé, son mentor Brok.
"Fais chier!" Fredrick a dit : "Tu mens pour m'énerver!"
"Ça a marché!" Un autre de ses amis, Ceran le Rogue, a appelé.
Fredrick a rongé quand Mangy a arraché la gorge d'un Drake.
"Pas besoin," dit-il comme un drake lancé sur lui, griffes oscillant.
Il a lâché sa hache et a pris les griffes, avant de buter le drak. Alors qu'il plantait, Freddy a balancé le drak par ses griffes et l'a claqué dans le mur, avant d'y mettre le crâne.
"Je suis toujours en colère!"
Ensuite, le sol s'est ébranlé. Le monde ralentit Freddy comme une énorme bête à l'échelle chargée dans les tunnels des grottes.
Un haut dragon. Il s'est déchiré dans la chair de Freddy, le purifiant de Feu. Freddy regardait sans défense comme il faisait la même chose à ses amis. Les chiens ont été déchirés, déchiquetés, brûlés un par un. Freddy était impuissant. Il a échoué, il a échoué, il a échoué, il a échoué...
Mangy aboie Freddy. Il tenta instinctivement de se lever, de se serrer le bras gauche. Au bout d'un moment, Freddy se rendit compte qu'il n'avait pas de tels appendices, et finit par tomber sur lui-même, roulant vers l'avant dans le côté de sa tente. Sa tente s'est effondrée sur lui, et il a échoué, laissant sortir une guerre.
Un paquet de Freddy et de tente roula un peu à travers le camp, presque enflammé dans l'un de ses compagnons alors qu'il roulait, laissant sortir une série de malédictions. Mangy réussit à rattraper, et décida d'aider à libérer son maître.
Mangy saisit la tente et tira, onpy réussissant à traîner Freddy avec la tente. Il l'a traîné à mi-chemin du camp, avant que Freddy ne soit finalement déposé sans cérémonie sur le sol.
Freddy s'est alors tenu et a donné un coup de pied sur le paquet de bâtons et de peaux de cuir qui avait été sa tente, en se référant à elle comme un "Makerforsaken baisedwit d'une tente." Il affronta alors ses autres camarades. Il rougit, les joues sombres s'assombrissent davantage, avant de tousser.
"Heu..." il a commencé, "Bon... matin?"
Il a maladroitement recueilli sa tente et a commencé à l'emballer, avant de localiser Dragonslayer. Il a sécurisé ses affaires dans une paire de sacs, l'un attaché à Mangy, l'autre attaché à Freddy.
"Alors... oui. Au moins un autre repas avant d'aller dans le Deathymcdoombaveland? Qu'est-ce qu'on a à manger. J'ai putain de faim."
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Karras
The Dark WandererBasic Information
Species - Human/Awakened Ghoul
Age - 26
Gender - Male
Class - Rogue(Archer)
Appearance -
Curriculum Vitae
Specializations - Shadow, Archery, Specialist
Notable Traits:
Humanlike - Karras indeed does have the dark blood coursing within his being, but somehow has retained his human like form rather then a malformed grotesque hurlock with warped skin and exposed blackened teeth. He has also the capability of speaking instead of mere grunts, growls, roars, or screams... though because of the taint within he mainly grunts in approval or disapproval due to his voice now sounding somewhat bestial.
Lock-Jaw - Karras keeps his mouth shut mainly due to the fact of his black tinted teeth standing out to that akin of rivaling a dragonling. Though that doesn't mean he keeps it shut twenty-four seven, on several accounts he's used them against those that desired to get up close and personal or had actually managed to corner him... the taste does linger for a while though, which disturbingly isn't quite half bad to him.
Deadman Walking - Given his appearance when first laided eyes upon, you'd think you've spotted a ghost, walking!? His once smooth brown skin has now become a ghastly pale coloration of white mixed in with a dull expression of gray.
Hawk's Eye - Though his eye may look void of life with the whites of his eyes tinted to near gray themselves and his pupils nearly completely crystal white, he still has sharp eye that spot can spot movements nearly two miles out without the need of any enhancement of glass.
Flaws:
Brood Mother's Calling - Karras isn't fully cut off from the link between himself and the darkspawn taint that now runs deep within him. He's still able to hear their thoughts of the hived spawn especially of the voice from the darkspawn Broodmother that had turned him in the first place.
Enemy Neutrality - Even with him being away from the main cluster of his corruption Karras has crossed paths with Darkspawn without having to attack, but there have also been a few times when the calling has ailed his mind black, then back to were he's standing over those that were combating his tainted brethren.
Flesh Craving - Darkspawn don't relatively need to rely on the constant need of sustaining food, but when they do they take entire throngs of live prey, reported mostly the male counterparts, and devour the red warm flesh raw and screaming. Karras hasn't necessarily done such acts, on purpose, other than to save his own life. Gurgut meat does have a limit though, once or twice people who were bad tended to have gone missing
Skills:
Full Draw
Long Shot
Speed
Lighting Speed
Pinpoint Precision
Strafing Shots
Backstory
Biography - Karras once had an actual life filled with lively hood, fellowship and living for the thrill of the hunt. Since nothing within Avvarian culture was truly permanet other than their lifetime of cultural tradiotions and oaths, his former clan, The Dragonmaw Clan, constanly moved throughout the lands of Fereldan. The Dragonmaw were the most known Avvar clan that were truly more open then other Avvarian clans.
Growing up in the life of staying for a few years then moving on to new lands seeking new trade and their forests fruitful with plenty of wild game to hunt letting the previous area were they hunted repopulate itself for a time until it was thriving with enough game again.
Karras was an excellent huntsman within his clan. Karras's skill with a bow was highly praised and reconsided amonng his Avvar kinsmen, even the thane claimed that he was a force to be reckoned with from a distance, but that didn't mean he wasn't useless in close combat either. From bringing down Gurguts to managing to survive an encounter of Giants in heat... Truly it isn't a pretty sight. Something not even lowlanders should witness...
Though during the transition of moving from the hinterlands, the thane decided that taking a path through the mountains to Orzammar rather then take the long route around them... that was the day the avvar of the DragonMaw Clan died... the day Karras was no longer himself, but something... darker.
It was a a full moon and pitch black as tar as the DragonMaw clan took refuge inside a rather large old dwarven cavern that appeared with one way out as it seemed safe enough for them to stay for the night and continue onward when they arose, but it was folly as they didn't suspect the the night-gangers, darkspawn, to burst through the cavern from beneath them. They came in with a reckoning force of sheer terror. Even as the bulk of the DragonMaw forces were slaughtered in their sleep or trying to defend themselves, the rest of the DragonMaw clan, Karras included with the remaining alive fought back with equal strength. As they fought within they sought to send the young and those that couldn't out of the cavern to safety, but their own way out was cut off by darkspawn Ogres... they had walked right on into a trap unknowningly. None were safe. Elders, men, woman, and even children weren't spared.
After he quick and brutal onslaught, the Karras and what remained of the DragonMaw stood only twenty strong, the thane not included, to a throng of night-gangers. They were all brought down quickly, with minimal resistance. Those few that were hanging by a thread were either tainted themselves turning them into Darkspawn monsters or dragged deep under the mountains, into the Deeps Roads to be feasted upon. Karras was one of the few that were turned into a blighted creature known as an ghoul.
At first he was part of the hive minded killers. Obeying and slaughtering those that stood against them just like any other hurlock. His mind was blank, no emotion, no compassion, no remorse for those that he killed, but slowly years after being tainted, corrupted with dark blood, Karras had manged to retain part of his on will and sanity. Pieces of memories, names, places came back to him over time.
He questioned himself on the matter of who he truly was and seeing that he was able to be self aware of what he was and of this were truly as they seemed. He managed to find a way out of a part of the Deep Roads near Orzammar, not without having to fight his way out first which wasn't easy task. He sustained near death injuries escaping from them, but he pressed on and on moving through places he didn't recognize, having to fight others wanting to kill him just for the spite of it. Then one day seeing that he was backed against the wall by grey men with horns, injured badly when another group came into the fray and saved him.
He found himself indebted to the group, the only group, of people that had saved him that very day and sought to repay them by joining them.
Personality and/or Motivation - Karras... he isn't much of a talker per say, mainly due to the fact that he wanted to avoid any suspicion, though he already stuck out like a sore thumb because of his appearance already. He also tends to stare... Alot, Karras sometimes doesn't even know why he does it, he just knows that he does.
Player’s long term goals - Karras wishes to regain the entirety of his memories to find out what happened to him in the past and be free of the taint the runs within him.
Relations - Other then going out on jobs with the main group, he still doesn't truly know everyone within the group, though he has received a lot of suspicion from others as well.
Secrets - Karras can still hear the calling of the hived darkspawn and sometimes willing or not, his mind gives in and he turns into a mindless killer out for blood. Only a few people within the group have seen what happens when his mind does give in thus why he remains secluded from mainly everyone.
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Affinant sa tête au scout silencieux, Martin s'est déposé à l'arrière du wagon et a tapé sa pipe, tapotant lourdement sur les cendres pour s'assurer qu'elles étaient bien et vraiment éteintes avant de se tourner vers la Compagnie. Éclairant sa gorge avec une forte grognement, la toux, qui s'est transformée en un hochet profond, en plein essor d'une toux alors qu'il s'est trouvé penché sur pirater le phlegme épais, Martin a appelé l'attention.
« Nous allons par-dessus terre deux jours à l'intérieur des terres », a commencé le vieux soldat en mâchant sur la masse grumelée dans sa bouche une seconde avant de l'enfoncer vers les restes du feu de camp. "Je ne m'attends pas à ce qu'il y ait des ennuis, les bandits ne voudront probablement pas déranger une fête aussi grande et bien armée comme la nôtre, mais gardez les yeux ouverts au cas où."
Pendant qu'il parlait Martin a soigneusement regardé le groupe réuni avant lui. Il y avait un peu de magie dans leurs rangs, d'une forme ou d'une autre, même les contraptions de la naine semblaient être alimentées par le truc, et les miliciens qu'ils avaient amenés de Skyhold semblaient pouvoir tenir une épée de la bonne façon, au moins lors de la deuxième tentative. Tirant son sabre bâtard de son fourreau, Martin le souleva en l'air et regarda autour de la plage pour s'assurer que tout le monde était prêt. Au loin, il pouvait voir le Siren en sortant de la baie, se dirigeant vers la mer de Waking. La coque en bois élégant qui facilite le travail de la marée drainante.
Bon débarras, il a pensé à lui-même avant de balancer son épée vers le bas pour signaler au conducteur de commencer leur voyage. "En avant!" Il a appelé dans sa voix de champ de bataille la plus forte, écoutant un moment avec un sourire tandis que les échos rebondissaient des montagnes lointaines.
Ce fut un bon voyage de deux jours, avec un beau temps et un ciel dégagé, et à part un petit problème avec un voleur qui avait essayé d'attaquer le camp pendant la première nuit, il n'y avait eu aucun problème pour obtenir la fête à l'entrée de Deep Roads Varric leur avait dit de regarder dehors. Martin sourit à la mémoire du voleur comme il l'avait trouvé le lendemain matin, suspendu à l'envers d'un arbre avec toutes ses affaires soigneusement triées et empilées sous lui. L'excellent poignard elvish avait été passé à l'un des miliciens qui s'était récemment marié, un cadeau d'amende pour le nouveau mari. Le reste des babioles avait été ajouté aux coffres de la Compagnie, pour être échangé à la première occasion. Au moins Nighthawk a réussi à s'amuser, Martin a pensé avec un sourire méchant.
Devant la porte en pierre envahie, Martin regarda l'escalier escarpé avec un chaland. Ils n'auraient aucun mal à descendre le wagon dans le tunnel, et d'après ce qu'il avait entendu le chemin devrait être clair et lisse une fois qu'ils étaient dedans, mais faire remonter le wagon dans les escaliers serait un cauchemar, surtout s'ils devaient le faire rapidement ou pendant qu'ils étaient attaqués.
D'un côté à l'autre, ses yeux ne quittent jamais le passage obscurci devant le sien, Martin rappelle par-dessus son épaule : « Je vais avoir besoin de trois volontaires. Quelqu'un doit descendre et s'assurer que la voie à suivre est claire. Un Mage serait utile, au cas où nous aurions besoin d'allumer n'importe quel brasier au feu de voile là-bas."
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Fredrick
The Dog of FereldanBasic Information
Species:Elf
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Class Warrior
Appearance:
Fredrick is missing his left arm, and has many, MANY scars. He has brown eyes and a very feminine appearance. He is muscular, and short. He stands at five feet.Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations: Berserker, Reaver, Spirit Warrior(used through anger)
Notable Traits:
First Trait: Despite not being a mage, Fredrick has an oddly powerful connection to the Fade. This makes him more of a beacon for demons and spirits than an average person, though no where near the same extent as a mage. Rage demons in particular are attracted to him, for obvious reasons.
Second Trait: Fredrick's left arm was destroyed by a high dragon before. He has thus adapted his two-handed fighting style to use only one arm, and is very, VERY strong in that arm.
Third Trait: Fredrick has learned to form a semi-corporeal arm using his reaver and spirit warrior skills. This arm cannot properly grasp anything, but its amorphic nature allows him to use it as a Swiss army weapon.
Fourth trait Fredrick is VERY pro-freedom, and is always rooting for the underdog. He is also very sensitive if racism, and will willingly stand up to anyone who he feels is being unjust, common sense be damned.
FlawsFirst Flaw: Fredrick is an ANGRY little bugger. He is more or less always bitching about something or someone, and during combat he has to constantly fight against his own anger for control. His rage is a double edged sword in a fight, as, though it powers all of his skills, it also makes him less rational(duh). He can be smart, but rarely will he consider the smart idea when he can just inspire pantshitting terror.
Second Flaw: Fredrick is VERY hard headed. When he gets an idea in his head, he will stand by it, logic be damned.
Third Flaw: Fredrick is really socially awkward. His foot has taken permanent residence in his mouth and will not leave. He has the amazing power to say the dumbest thing possible.
Fourth Flaw HE ONLY HAS ONE FUCKING ARM. IT IS SO HARD TO DO THINGS ONE HANDED. HE NEEDS HELP UNSCREWING JARS. HE HAS ONE ARM.
Seriously though, while his abilities can compensate, he is still missing an arm. Out of combat he has various issues, and in combat he has to rely on a constant assault to keep himself safe, as having only one god damn arm means he can't attack and defend at the same time.
Skills
Growing Fury: A combination of berserk, frenzy and spirit warrior skills. Fredrick's combat rage has multiple stages to it, depending on how wounded he is and his furious he is. His second arm is tied to his rage too, not manifesting until the second stage of his fury.
1st Stage, Berserk: Fredrick's usual combat stage. Frothing at the mouth berserk fury, with no magic added. Fredrick swings Dragonslayer one handed, ripping through his foes.
Notable Skills: Various "two-handed" techniques, notably the very quick and powerful sunder arms and sunder armor, as well as Destroyer. He has a weakened version of frightening appearance, which is less Reaver powers and more being a terrifying berserk elf. He can use Final Blow, which exhausts his remaining energy and leaves him vulnerable.
2nd Stage, Unholy Frenzy: Fredrick rarely reaches this state.Fredrick's strength is further enhanced as he is wounded, and he begins to inspire bladder-failing terror with his warcrys and viscious attacks. He revels in blood, and regenerates if exposed to enemy blood. He can use frightening appearance to its true potential, and actually takes advantage of his terrifying nature to make his foes too scared to fight back. He can actively use Devour in order to heal further. He also forms a limb out of blood and fire in order to attack his foes. He gains use of overwhelm and dread howl while in this state of rage.
Third Stage Rage Demon: Fredrick sinks partially into the fade, gaining potent defensive and offensive benefits. His attacks become significantly faster, and blood becomes gravitating toward him to heal him. His formed arm becomes even more versatile, and he learns to use Fade Burst and Blood Rage. He gains use of Frenzy, Peon's Plight and Massacre, and regenerates health more with each foe killed. This state actively drains him, however, and he has only successfully manifested it for five seconds before. When this form wears off, he is extremely vulnerable.
He also has a Mabari named Mangy. The old wardog is good at harrowing foes and leaving them open to further assault, and is particularly good at taking down mages by overwhelming and murdering them.
Backstory
Biography: Backstory
Biography: Fredrick's family was a slightly wealthy one within the Denerim alienage. They lived relatively decent lives, and were able to bring up their kids with a decent education. Fredrick has an almost idealic life for a while, with a protective, kindly older sister named Nora, a hard working and wise father, and a gentle and loving mother.
He was STILL angry, of course. Fredrick was always short tempered. His reaction to anything was yelling. He was an absolute NIGHTMARE of a child to raise. The only reason he didn't get beat up by the other kids for his constant raging was because of the aforementioned older sister.
That changed when his sister was taken by the Circle. A human had been hitting his elven servant, and Fredrick, smart kid that he is, decided that the best solution was to swing a stick at the man. Considering he was nine at the time, he was slightly unsuccessful, and the man tried to attack him too.
Before the man could lay a hand on him, however, Nora did...something. She had held both of her hands out, and the man stood still. After a moment, he fell to the ground, unconscious.
Though the servant said nothing of her tiny saviors, word still got around. It was a few weeks of stressed waiting, and then Fredrick saw some big armored humans come and take her away. His family later got news of her having been slain while attempting to escape the circle.
Fredrick started getting into fights. A lot of fights. His parents constantly tried to get him to be more careful, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Fredrick did some good, however. While at first he mostly just fought the other kids, as he grew up he started fighting thugs, bullies. He has actually helped a decent number of people in Denerim. He even helped out a mabari breeder in Amaranthine while visiting family by driving off some thugs that were trying to steal some pups. Fredrick got a pup of his own for his troubles, whom he named Mangy. Mangy helped protect him, especially during the events of Tevinter slavers and other unrest in the alienage. Mangy even saved his life when they were helping protect the alienage.
After the Blight ended, Fredrick decided to take up mercenary work to help fund the reparation of the alienage. He and Mangy set off and joined with a group of mercenaries for a time. They gained quite a reputation as doers of the impossible. They went all over Denerim, and later beyond its borders, doing great deeds. Fredrick's company was called the Dogs of Fereldan, so named for their Chasind leader, and because Mangy became their mascot. The leader took Fredrick under his wing, and taught him to harness his rage more efficiently.
Eventually, they ended up hunting a rogue apostate in Kirkwall.
They tracked the Maleficar to a house in town, fully prepared to confirm who she was and kill her. However, when Fredrick saw her, his heart stopped.
The maleficar was his sister. She told him of how she had escaped and been named dead before her Harrowing. How she had turned to blood magic and unlocked the dalish secrets of the Arcane Warrior, and how she had dedicated herself to finding greater and greater power. How she planned on helping to free the mages.
And that was how Fredrick's mercenary company ended up doing covert operations against the Templars. They mostly smuggled mages away from Tower confines, killing any Templar that came after them. It was dirty work, as most Templars were good people, but Fredrick was willing to do it for his sister, and his mercenary company stood by its own.
Eventually, however, Fredrick found evidence of his sister's doings that he couldn't ignore.
Kidnapped children, men, women, even a few grey wardens. So many innocent people, suspended in glass jars and studied, experimented on.
His sister rationalized it. Freedom, at any costs. She was tired of being a slave, tired of being branded a criminal when all she wanted was freedom. Fredrick felt uneasy, but he allowed it.
One day, his company for a job to collect regeants for the mages. It all went well, till they tried to get Drake scales. They ended up attracting the attention of the Female, a powerful high dragon. It slew most of them, and Fredrick ended up losing his right arm when it tore into him.
After that, his rage boiled over. The details are hazy. He remembers climbing atop the corpses of his friends, piled as they were, and leaping into its snout. He remembers the haze of blood, and the rise and fall of his axe. He remembers a final swing of his great axe, and then rolling over, passing out in a pool of mixed blood.
He awoke in one of his sister's glass jars. She told him that he had been gone for a few days before she found him, and that she had only managed to save him through powerful blood magic. She told him she had found him next to the mangled corpse of a high dragon. It was decapitated, one of its wings had been torn out, and its skull had multiple fractures.
After that, Fredrick's short temper was even worse. For a few days, he had to seal himself off, as EVERYTHING sent him into a mad, raging fury. He worried that he had become an abomination, and his sister refused to tell him one way or the other.
It took months for Fredrick to recover properly, learning to harness his rage as a tool once more. With his company destroyed, Fredrick and Mangy were the last Dogs of Fereldan. During the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick felt his rage boil over to a breaking point. He had been fighting a particularly skilled Templar, and had been losing. Every swing of his axe was deflected by the man's shield. His blows seemed to drain Fredrick in an odd way, sapping his strength. He only won that fight when he flew into a rage beyond what he had ever encountered before. Blood flew about him, another weapon to wield. He became an animalistic thing, attacking ferociously, smacking his armored foe about like a pebble. He tore into his foe's armor with an appendage made of blood, and tore out his heart with his teeth. He then turned on...everyone. Friends, allies, enemies, all were the same. When he finally came to, Fredrick was horrified at what he had done. What he had become.
After the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick's sister disappeared. He found her journal, left to him by her. She claimed not to want to be followed, that the war wasn't over.
She told him the truth of how he had been saved. That she had taken the blood of all the other surviving Dogs of Fereldan, and that of the dragon, and used them to change him. She hadn't healed his wounds. She had changed him so he could do it himself.
Fredrick sent Mangy home, and wandered about for a time, dissilusioned. He tossed himself into any fights he could find. His parents tried to contact him, but he avoided them. He was no longer their son. He was a monster. He wasn't even angry anymore. Just...tired.
At one point, he passed through Denerim. He had gone months without eating, and was basically a skeleton with axe and armor. He collapsed on the streets, dying.
He woke up in a comfortable bed, the smell of his mother's cooking wafting in. He felt Mangy lying next to him, and could hear his father talking about current events with his mom.
For a moment, he thought he had died. Mangy's stinky breath in his face told him otherwise.
His parents told him how Mangy had suddenly left, and came back dragging his armored form through the alienage.
Fredrick stayed for a while, doing work for the Guard. He stayed, and he healed. He learned of the stories that had been told about him back home, of how he'd become the hero that elves told their children about in Denerim. How the Dog of Fereldan was upheld by the Chasind as one of their legends. How Fereldan took pride in its Dogs, and in their final survivor.
Fredrick found a purpose again. His family knew that the truth was darker than the tales said. They didn't care. As much as he had worried and annoyed and irritated and ignored them, his family still loved him.
He eventually left again, Mangy at his side. He took mercenary work again, with all his loved ones in mind. He would make them proud.
And whether she wanted to be followed or not, he would find Nora, and bring her home.
Personality and/or Motivation: Fredrick is an angry, short tempered and surly individual with a strong moral code. He's far less violent than he used to be, and tries to avoid physical violence whenever he can.
He works out most of his frustration and temper through angry, sassy quips. Amd he never seems to stop talking.
He is EXTREMELY protective of his loved ones. Especially Mangy. You hurt his dog, you die.
Meanwhile, while he has some demons to face, he is actually happy about his life. He believes that there is good in the world, and he feels like it's worth fighting for. While he acts like a pessimist, he is VERY MUCH an optimist.
He loves to bake, secretly.
Player’s long term goals.
A chance to absolute berserk massacre a large group of enemies.
Mangy must piss on a lot of sacred artifacts to mark his territory
Get a chance to embarrass himself in front of an entire royal court.
Get ass kicked by a superior raging warrior.
Win in the rematch through NOT losing control.
Find his sister. Confront her over her actions, and work things out.
Avoid a huge massacre by being REALLY FUCKING SCARY.
Relations:
Fereldan Adoration: Fredrick is well-thought of by his home country, who have received watered down tales of his exploits.
Alienage: Especially Denerim's Alienage, who have received a LOT of money from him. They basically worship him there. Especially since the first act of his mercenary career was helping defend the alienage.
ApostateMages: Many mages, especially in Kirkwall, owe him their lives.
Chantry: For good reason, the Templars KINDA dislike him.
Secrets:
Fredrick keeps the darker side of his exploits under wraps. As far as anyone knows, he is just an angry, one armed hero. No one knows that the hunched beast that killed so many during kirkwall's final battle was him. Very few tales include the second stage of his fury, and no one knows about the third. The official story of him facing the dragon leaves out the part about him being healed with the lifeblood of his allies.
He also tries not to let anyone know that his missing sister is a known and dangerous maleficar.
Quotes:
"Nora, sis, I love you and cherish you, you know this, but WHAT THE SHRIEKING TIT NIPPLE KINGLY SHIT FUCK ARE ALL THOSE TRIPLE DARKSPAWN ORGY FUCKING PEOPLE DOING IN JARS!?"
"Fuck the rain! If I wanted water, I would have gone to a fucking well! Fucking Maker!"
"TEN SILVER!? FOR A FUCKING POULTICE?!? YOU SHITASSED MOTHERFUCKING SHITASS!"
"FUCK THOSE FUCKING FUCKERS!"
(To an arl) "FUCK YOUR COUCH, FUCK YOUR DOG CUZ MINE'S COOLER, FUCK YOUR MOM, YOUR DAD, YOUR UGLY ASS WIFE, YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY LINE, YOUR WHOLE ARLING, YOUR DUMB ASS SON AND SLUTTY ASS DAUGHTER, AND MOST OF ALL, FUCK YOU!"
"FUCK THAT!"
"FUCK!"
"SHIT!"
"SHIT FUCK!"
"For the love of the damned Maker. If another half assed fucking spider crawls out, I will shit out a rage snake and beat everyone in this cave ha fucking death with it!"
And, most commonly of all,
"Fuck you!"
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Avancer, son harnais de bataille donnant un sifflement d'échapper à la vapeur comme elle l'a fait, Henrietta se leva la main pour se porter volontaire. "J'aimerais bien voir l'endroit avant que les gens ne piétinent tout." Alors qu'elle parlait "Les yeux d'Etta fléchaient vers les animaux de la fête, elle semblait se renifler les uns les autres en se reniflant d'un côté.
En montant sur le wagon, Henrietta a sorti une petite tige de six pouces. Poussant un grand bouton rouge sur une extrémité de celui-ci, elle l'a tenu à distance pendant quelques instants tout en protégeant son visage de son autre main, presque comme si elle s'attendait à ce que la chose explose. Au bout de quelques secondes, elle regarda de derrière ses doigts avec une fronce, éblouissante à la tige avec un bafflement. Elle l'a agitée quelques fois, elle a baissé la main de son visage et a retourné un petit panneau sur le côté de la tige ouverte, atteignant sa ceinture pour un tournevis comme elle l'a fait.
La voix d'Etta s'enfuit alors que ses yeux dardaient autour de la compagnie environnante et que ses joues commençaient à rougir, rappelant exactement ce qu'elle avait fait avec l'appareil la veille. "Hmm, peut-être qu'il est encore un peu mouillé." Elle murmura, soufflant dans les rouages intérieurs de l'appareil avec une puissante bouffée qui laissa les joues enflammées et les lèvres enfilées d'une manière un peu dérangeante. Enfonçant le panneau, elle a retenu l'appareil et a appuyé à nouveau sur le bouton. Cette fois, l'appareil est immédiatement venu à la vie, jonglant et vibrant sur la main tendue d'Etta pendant quelques instants avant de sortir soudainement dans un bâton de quatre pieds de long avec une flamme vive brûlant une nuance joyeuse de vert vif à une extrémité.
"Tout est prêt!" Elle a appelé chez Martin, en sortant avec le niveau de la flamme clignotante avec son visage et un sourire éclatant qui s'étend sur ses lèvres. "Qu'est-ce qu'on faisait encore?"
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Henrietta Harrowmont .
Madcap Mechanical MenaceBasic Information
Species: Dwarf
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Appearance:
Like most of her race Henrietta is shorter than most other races, but she still stands a good couple of inches taller than most of her own people. Heavily influenced by the technologies of both the Tevinter and the Qunari, Henrietta has built herself a 'battle-harness' which incorporates any number of weird and wonderful gadgets to help her keep safe in battle. Vitae
Specialisations: Artificer, Sabotage, Subterfuge
Notable Traits:A Gadget For Every Occasion: Whenever the opportunity presents itself Henrietta loves nothing more than to dismantle and rebuild her battle-harness, upgrading and improving its design with her latest madcap invention. She always seems to have some sort of gadget to lend a helping hand to a situation, even if they don't always work in exactly the way she had intended them to.
Mechanical Mastermind: Henrietta is a genius when it comes to mechanisms, machinery and motorised marvels of all kinds. There are very few devices which, with the proper instruments and time, she cannot discover the purpose, function and operation of.
Mind Over Matter: Fully aware of her physical shortcomings, Henrietta's battle-harness has built-in strength enhancing gauntlets designed to increase the power of her punches and enable to to fight back against anyone who might try to take her inventions away from her. While this only makes her as strong as an average warrior, it still packs enough of a punch to help Henrietta out of tight corners.
Duck and Cover: The only reason Henrietta has survived this long in her experimentations is her innate ability to know when something's just about to go dreadfully wrong, and having the speed and skill to make herself vanish just before someone asks the question "Who the hell blew up my forge?"
Flaws:Fade-less: As a dwarf, Henrietta has no connection with the Fade and cannot use magics in their normal manner. While she has a resistance to lyrium in all its usual forms, she can still be affected by red lyrium over long periods or in large enough quantities.
Loose Screw: While none can doubt her skills at forging and crafting components for her latest creations, Henrietta has a habit of missing out minor, but often key, components when constructing her devices. Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem, but the tenth time... DUCK!
"What Does This Button Do?": When faced with a mystery, especially a mechanical one, Henrietta just can't stop herself from giving it a poke. Sometimes this habit of practical experimentation leads to great rewards and breakthroughs in knowledge, but at other times it can lead her and her comrades into trouble.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: Henrietta is obsessed with the number three and often has to do minor actions, such as stirring her broth, washing her bowl and tightening screws, in multiples of three. While this has no immediately detrimental effect should she not be able to complete the action, it will bug her for the rest of the day, until she can finally complete the sequence.
Skills: Spike Trap, Elemental Mines, Caltrops, Hook and Tackle, Throwing Blades, Knockout Powder and Stealth
Backstory
Biography:
Born on the surface, in a clan of dwarves living in Nevarra, Henrietta soon showed an inquisitive and curious nature which was only fed by the love of her blacksmith father. Quickly learning the ways of the hammer and tongs, Henrietta set out to discover new ways to make metal work, developing skills in precision crafting and forging which enabled her to build smaller, more efficient mechanisms each day. When the Nevarran Military discovered the young girl's gift they immediately travelled to her small settlement to make her an offer she couldn't refuse, to turn her skills towards constructing war machines which would make Nevarra the envy of the world.
Asking for some time to think over their proposal Henrietta and her entire family swiftly scarpered, leaving their village behind them to seek out a safer, less intimidating place to set up shop. For several months the dwarves journeyed around the shores of the Waking Sea, passing through numerous countries on their way, the family eventually found themselves in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains with seemingly no way to pass.
Settling down the dwarves began doing what they do best, mining. As they cut their way into the side of the mountains, uncovering ores and minerals which could be used to craft their wares, the dwarves were surprised to come across red lyrium buried deep within the rocks. Not realising what this strange material was they happily began forging it into their armour, weapons and trinkets as an adornment to their creations. Soon after they found themselves under the gaze of the Inquisition, who demanded to know where the red lyrium had come from.
After revealing their mining endeavour the dwarves were quickly evacuated from the area, for their own safety. WHile the move was sudden the poor innocents were treated with the utmost respect and soon found themselves working their trade under the Inquisition's banner. CHurning out arms and armour each day held little interest for Henrietta though, so instead she set to work building herself the means to help the Inquisition more directly, and had soon created a working prototype of her battle-harness. When presenting the mechanisms to the Inquisition forces they were less than impressed, mainly due to Henrietta managing to accidentally demolish part of the kitchens in the process.
Seeing the potential in the young and eager dwarf, and not wanting her anywhere near them when her mad inventions finally managed to reduce the area around her to a smoking crater, the Inquisition forces made enquiries as to the need amongst their allies for a blacksmith-come-death machine, and Henrietta soon found herself in the company of the Company, brave mercenaries who treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy, from as far away as they could politely get.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Dreaming of nothing more than machinery, cogs and gears Henrietta seeks to learn everything she can about the physical sciences, and to be the first to build something spectacular. She doesn't know exactly what that something may be, but she is most definitely certain about the spectacular part.
Player’s long term goals:Henrietta can be an important part of any quest, her skill with mechanisms and devices extending to locks, traps and secret doorways just as much as to machinery and engines. I'd like her to have the opportunity to build steam-aged machines to help out the party, if she can work out the science behind them first.
Relations:Henrietta's family are currently sheltered by the Inquisition, working as blacksmiths and trader on their behalf.Although her family once had times with the Noble House of Harrowmont, as a Surface Dwarf Henrietta has no contact with Orzammar and only limited knowledge of dwarven beliefs and traditions.
While not Andrastian herself she holds a deep respect for their faith and accepts many of their customer and rituals as her own.Henrietta is currently wanted by the Nevarran Military, although as they only wish to recruit her they wouldn't want to take any overtly aggressive actions against her, least they drive her into the hands of their rivals.
Secrets:The power supply for Henrietta's battle-harness is a refined red lyrium reactor, which harnesses the power of the strange element in order to make her mechanisms function. The long-term effects of exposure to the material, even in its heavily shielded state, are currently unknown, and should the containment ever be breached the red lyrium could adversely affect everyone Henrietta comes into contact with.
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Paxton lâcha un léger ronflement au fur et à mesure que le bricoleur Dwarven du groupe s'avançait, se porta volontaire comme premier à repérer l'entrée, puis se mit à faire tout le spectacle d'activer ce qui semblait être une sorte de torche mécanique. "Aussi confiant que j'ai en toi 'Etta, je pense que j'aimerais aller là-bas." Il a dit avant de continuer dans son ton le plus agréable possible. "Non pas que je doute de vos compétences, juste que... les choses ont tendance à exploser autour de vous et nous savons tous que quelque chose qui explose dans les Deep Roads ne sera pas le meilleur pour nous en ce moment." Il a dit, se tenant les mains dans un manoir passif pour montrer qu'il essayait d'être aussi doux que possible.
Il regarda alors Sasha, qui était à ses côtés. "Restez ici, ma fille, assurez-vous de garder la charrette." Il a dit à l'animal à fourrure pourpre, en lui cachant la tête doucement. En avant et en arrière de son attention le nain plus qu'excitable. "Au moins, permettez-moi de vous accompagner là-bas à vous le savez, gardez n'importe quel Darkspawn de vous transformer en un petit snack de taille." Il a dit avec un léger chanfrein.
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"Let the blade pass through the flesh, Let my blood touch the ground, Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice. -Andraste 7:12"
Paxton Arkwright
Bloodwrath
Basic Information
Species
Human/Abomination
Age
33
Gender
Male
Class
Mage/Warrior
Appearance
Paxton is a tall man, standing at 6'4 in height, with a muscular body build. His skin is slightly on the pale side and is peppered with scars from countless misadventures in his life, though there are a series of them that rack his arms that stand out among the rest. His hair is a dark, ash black and normally hangs down below his shoulders in a uncombed mess, though on occasion he has been known to tie it back into a loose ponytail. He has a slightly trimmed beard that covers the lower half of his face, left unattended for too long it will easily match that of a Dwarf's. His eyes are a bright amber color, on the verge of being yellow, and hold a certain sharpness to them.
Unlike traditional mages Paxton does not wear robes, instead he wears a set of leather armor. The armor is colored in a mixture of dark grey and black. He wears an amulet of Andraste under his armor almost at all times. Paxton has a large slightly tattered collared coat he normally wears over his armor. Another thing that separates Paxton from the usual mage is that he does not carry a staff at all.
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations
Knight-Enchanter, Blood Mage, Reaver
Notable Traits
Master Of The Game
Paxton had spent years mingling with members of the highest society as he served as one of the Divine's elite mage guards. As such he is more than use to surviving the cut throat politics that Orlesian call their Grand Game, in fact he was once quite the avid player. Paxton can exchange words as well as the most pampered and schooled nobles Thedas has to offer. He once prided himself on his skill to fool bards, who were supposedly the most skilled members of the game
Andrastian
Paxton is a devoted follower of the Chantry. He worships the Maker and his mortal bride Andraste. He has memorized most of the chant of light, which is no easy feat, and has even at one point sung through the whole chant, which took about three weeks to complete. He is known to throw a Chant line or two into conversation if it relates to the matter on hand, he has even been caught singing the Chant to merely pass the time. Though many may find it hypocritical for Paxton to call himself a follower of the Chantry given his choice of combat use, Paxton says what he does is a necessary evil that must be done.
Elf-Blooded
Though one may not guess it from merely looking upon him Paxton is actually indeed a half-Elf. His mother was a Elven maid and his father the inn keeper where his mother work. The two fell in love and the product of their romance was Paxton. Because of this Paxton has a soft spot for Elven kind and their plight, often times getting into bloody fights whenever he hears someone use the expression "knife-ear".
Cat Person
No offence to the Fereldans and their Mabari, but Paxton had always preferred felines over hounds. Paxton always respected the creatures' craftiness, not to mention found them quite adorable. Plus Paxton's dislike for dog slobber pushed him towards cats. You can only imagine what he thoughts when he came upon a group of bandits attacking what looked like a defenseless kitty. After a less than pleasant bout of bandit stomping Paxton went to treat the cat only to find out it was a red lion cub, apparently the bandits had killed her mother. Paxton did the only thing he thought was right and took in the cub, naming her Sasha. Ever since Paxton had been raising her, some say just as well as any other red lion parent could, and Sasha has grown into quite the deadly and beautiful creature.
Flaws
Battle Enthusiast
Master of the Game or not Paxton has no problem jumping into battle, he rather enjoys it in fact. If one's first attempt at talking fails Paxton would more than likely already be moving in for his first, maybe even last, attack on whoever they were trying to convince. He is basically the equivalent of a battle harden Qunari with the short temper of a drunken Dwarf.
Wanted By The Orlesian Chantry
Paxton's past has left him as a wanted man of the Orlesian Chantry, he has to be very weary any time he sets foot on Orlesian soil do to the great and wide power the Chantry holds there.
Wrath Within
Paxton is not alone in his own body or mind, he is in a sense an Abomination. For he harbors a demon of Wrath in side of himself. Unlike other mages who harbor a spirit of the Fade inside themselves and allow themselves to be over taken by it Paxton has tamed this beast to a extent. The demon serves as a resource of immense power and knowledge, but always posses a threat. If Paxton is not careful with his emotional state the demon can and has taken control of its host, at which point it brings Paxton's inner hatred and furry down upon anyone or thing near by, regardless of friend or foe.
Skills
Fade Cloak
Paxton shifts from a physical form to that of a cloud of blood mist. While in this form Paxton is invulnerable and can pass through enemies with out penalty. When he rematerializes he does so in a small crimson burst of blood that wounds and knock backs enemies.
Spirit Blade
Paxton's hands become surrounded by blood that form into monstrous claws that can cut as deep as any blade.
Blood Magic
Paxton uses the blood of his foes to fuel his power and continue his slaughtering sprees.
Ring Of Pain
Paxton claims his spot on the battle field and fights with the ferocity of a dragon, turning any foe foolish enough to come close into stains on the ground.
Devour
Paxton rips into his foes and uses their blood in order to heal his own wounds
Dragon-Rage
Paxton uses his dragon infused blood to strengthen the power of his claws. This power only increases with the damage Paxton endures.
Backstory
Biography
Paxton's life started like all mage lives do, he was stripped away from his family at the tender age of six and sent to the Circle of Magi, though to his fortune the Nevarran Circles have much more freedom when compared to the rest of Thedas when excluding the Tevinter Imperium.
He was quite the talented student when it came to his studies, accelerating ahead of his peers. He was even the youngest apprentice in the Nevarran Circle's history to go through the Harrowing, at only the age of fifteen. It wasn't long after his Harrowing that Paxton requested to be transferred to the Orlesian Circle of Magi, The White Spire, in the hopes to study the magic of the Knight-Enchanters. As a fully fledge mage his request was deemed acceptable and he was transferred to the White Spire.
The years after that Paxton did nothing but train in the arts of the Knight-Enchanter, which eventually not only did he become one but he was also requested to become one of the Elite Knight-Enchanter bodyguards of the Divine herself. Needless to say Paxton accepted.
Paxton spent years in service to the Divine, saving her life countless times from would be killers. He was held in high regard among the Chantry, they seeing him as what a mage should be, but all that changed once Paxton's secret came to light. It turned out for years that Paxton had not only been studying blood magic, but also practicing it actively, even going as for to drink the blood of a dragon and becoming a Reaver.
All this was revealed when an assassin got the better of him, managing to fire an arrow through Paxton's shoulder, and was about to cut down the Divine. Paxton did the only thing he could think of to save her, he used blood magic to force the assassin to run his blade across his own throat.
Though he saved her Paxton was labeled a Maleficar by the Chantry and was sentenced to become a Tranquil, though the Divine seemed remorseful about this verdict. He swore he never used the magic to manipulate anyone for his own personal gain, but no one cared about that fact and the matter was closed. The night before he was supposed to go through the Rite of Tranquility he managed to escape because someone left the door to his cell unlocked, something he questions to this day.
Paxton wandered for months, hiding from Templars and chantry members alike. Paxton had become so desperate for survival he eventually made a deal with a powerful demon of Wrath for power, allowing the demon to enter this world through his body. The demon attempted to over take Paxton's will, but underestimated the mage's power. The result was that the two were now bound together in a single body.
Though he now had a demon housed inside of him Paxton had become remarkably stronger. He used this strength to evade or scare off further pursues. Not long after Paxton found himself in league with a mercenary group. At first he aligned with them as they provided the perfect cover from Templars, but he eventually formed a bond and kinship with his brothers and sisters in arms.
The group, along with Paxton, at some point were hired by the reformed Inquisition as soldiers, which Paxton greatly approved of. With the Rift Crises averted and their job done Paxton and the group of mercenaries are now on the search for coin and new adventures.
Personality and/or Motivation
Paxton is a sharp fellow born with a quick wit and quicker tongue. He is just as likely to make a smart remark comment as he is to deck you in the face. He is quite hardy, loving a good laugh and drink. He is no stranger to manipulation, having been on both ends of it, and knows that you have to be carful around everyone as they more likely than not are waiting to stab you in the back. Though under his rugged exterior Paxton is quite the noble soul, holding strong in his moral code of protecting the little guy and destroying wrong doers. Though he does know in order to do good one may have to do actions that most may label as evil.
Player’s long term goals
Paxton had felt lost and broken ever sense his life was turned upside down the day his secret was brought to light. He has found solace in the kinship of his brothers and sisters in arms of the mercenary group. He now tries to ensures the safety and well being of each of his comrades, even if it means putting his own hide on the line.
Relations
Many of the bridges Paxton had built over the years were burned when his being a Blood Mage was reviled. Though he may be able to come upon a old friend, be they mage or Templar, from his days in the towers who wouldn't mind showing him kindness. His main connections and ties happen to be the other members of the mercenary group.
Secrets
Though the rest of the group is aware of his given situation with Wrath, Paxton tends to keep the fact that he communicates with Wrath on a nearly constant bases to himself. He does not want people to think he is indeed being influenced by the demon.
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Je pourrais y aller aussi. Je suis assez mince pour voir dans n'importe quelle petite zone le danger. Lian a dit en marchant. Elle avait gardé le silence ces deux derniers jours, mais elle pensait pouvoir l'aider dans cette tâche. Ses cheveux étaient tombés pour couvrir un de ses yeux. Elle s'était assurée, avant d'avancer, que les Snuffles avaient été fixés au wagon.
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Lian Wai
Lightning Slash
Basic Information
Species:
Elf
Age:
27
Gender:
Female
Class:
Rogue
Appearance:
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations:
Duelist/Tempest
Notable Traits:
Andrastian
Despite being raised in a Dalish clan, Lian is a avid believer of the Maker and his wife Andraste. Though she doesn't openly say she does she does remember bits and pieces of the Chant of Light.
Nature Resistant
Lian is resistant to nature attacks due to being raised out in nature and being a friend to nature.
Flaws:
Has a younger sister who last she knew was still back home in the Dalish camp she lived in.
Has a limp due to a old injury to her left leg.
Is very sensitive about people being rude towards elves.
Skills:
Rouge-
Twin Fangs
Spinning Blades
Dance of Death
Tempest-
Flask of Cold
Flask of Fire
Duelist-
Throw the Gaunlet
Vendetta
Backstory
Biography
Lian was born in Northern Ferelden in a Dalish camp. She spent the first two years of her life living happily with her mother and father when her little sister was born. Sadly their happy little family didn't last long when her mother died a few days later from unknown complications.
As Lian grew she worked her hardest to be the best Dalish Elf that she could be, taking it upon herself to care for her sister when her father was hunting and also learning about Dalish culture and history.
When she was ten her life was once again changed when her father disappeared while hunting one evening leaving Lian with her sister and the rest of the Dalish camp.
When Lian was ten she started to learn to hunt but had no real skill with a bow so she spent most of her time in camp. However when she was fourteen she was dared by one of her friends to go out and hunt a bear. That ended in disaster when Lian was attacked by the bear, she was lucky to escape with her life but in the process her left leg was badly injured and once healed left her with a permanent limp.
A year later, shortly after she turned fifteen she left the camp to travel on her own, armed only with her smarts and a pet Nug, she named him Snuffles, her sister gave him to her as a going away present. She traveled from Northern Ferelden towards the Hinterlands to find work and to also learn how to fight.
She was eventually taken under the wing of a rouge who taught her how to use two blades and taught her how to be a Duelist. Another man in the town she was staying in also taught her how to be a Tempest. Though the two men were murdered in front of her eyes, breaking her already shattered life apart again and ruining her innocence causing her to become twisted under her sweet and innocent exterior.
When she was twenty-four she left the town and traveled again, taking mercenary jobs to earn money. She eventually ended up joining with the Inquisition shortly after she turned twenty-six, after spending two years taking jobs. After the events of Inquisition was over she was twenty-seven. She decided to stick with the group and that's where the rest is explanatory.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Lian on a good day is very smart and sharp, easily catching mean remarks towards her or Elfish kind. She's also very quick to anger and isn't afraid to start a battle if thinks it's right. She's a little shy when you first meet her despite the fact she's been traveling for twelve years. She's also protective of her friends and her clan and is willing to give her life to save others. Underneath her innocent and calm exterior however is a very twisted girl, willing to use that innocent exterior to make her enemies trust her and the to destroy them with slashing blades and a fiery potion.
Player’s long term goals:
Lian's long term goals aren't much.
She wishes to return to her clan after a while and give any money she has made to them.
She wishes to see her little sister again.
Finally she also wishes to figure out what actually happened to her father when he never came back to camp,
Relations:
Lian has few relations despite traveling for many years. However, she does have good relations with her Dalish clan and people she's taken jobs from.
Secrets:
Lian keeps secret that she is terrified of bears, they're what caused her to earn her limp at the age of fourteen.
She keeps the fact that her father may be alive a secret, not knowing if it's true or not.
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Cassius se tenait un peu loin de Lian, il craignait que sa jambe la ralentisse en cas de danger. Et il préférerait ne pas laisser un autre comme Fredrick... Mais ce n'était pas à lui de décider. Quoi qu'il en soit, il y avait des choix à faire. Bien que... Il n'a jamais vu de frayère sombre, ou quoi que ce soit du genre.
"Je... pourrais aller à ta place Lian. Sans vous manquer de respect... mais je préfère ne pas risquer une blessure à la jambe... mais je ne vous retiendrai pas si vous voulez vraiment y aller." C'était sa nature de veiller sur les autres s'il le pouvait. Pour lui, sa blessure pourrait être un obstacle, mais pour elle, elle sert de rappel; deux points de vue contradictoires.
"Mais... si tu y vas... Je pourrais vous donner une ration supplémentaire ou deux."
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Name: Cassius Alexandros Svent.
Nickname: Cas.
Species: Half breed, Human and Elf.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Class: Rogue/ mage hybrid.
Appearance: Stands at 5'11 to 6ft, hour class frame, large feet, broad shoulders, scrawny arms. Cream colored skin, hazel green eyes, shoulder length dark chocolate brown hair. Somewhat of a straight nose, beak like. Wide hips, thick thighs.
As for clothes he mostly wears Blue and Black Velvet like garments that are light and easy to move in. Most of which have clashing patterns that overlap in an elegant yet messy way.
Specializations: Arcane Warrior, Spirit healer.
Notable Traits: He tends to be observant as well as quiet, has a lisp, tends to fold his arms, move his hands and body accordingly when he speaks, and usually stares blank faced.
Flaws: He has several minor scars on his face, to a dent in the middle of his forehead. His right fore arm has cut on it as well as the elbow. In terms of a personality flaw, he tends to take things too seriously at times, to just being snide and sarcastic. He also is tranquil in the sense of personality, but in truth he is very caring despite his sense of apathy.
Skills: Healing, regenerative spells, revival, because of being an arcane Warrior, he can fight with a sword effectively as well as utalize all Arcane Warrior skills. Fade step, telekinetic weapons as well as mindblast. Occasionally he will do a low blow to throwing dirt in one's eyes. Tier two Lockpicking and pickpoketing,Dispell and Evasion.
Outside of combat, he also knows a bit of alchemy. He can make minor tonics provided he has the materials.
Biography: He was born as a slave to a family in the Imperium as he was sold off by his parents. Rather then being treated as a slave, he was treated as an apprentice on the estate he lived in, but he still witnessed jarring things that made him not feel as safe, such as torture of other hand maids of the lord of the estate. At times it would either be beheadings, to severe branding by magic, to entropy to drive others to insanity, the screams always made him feel unsafe and gave him the mentality he could be next, that they could snap on him relatively quickly.
With fear being his drive to try to be proper and show no fear, he did whatever he was tasked, even if he was a failure at some relatively new task, such as forging items from materials, to being able to use major magics. He was only capable of minor magics, and his overlord took note of this. His overlord in particular and wanted to see the potential of halfbreeds, fortunately the results of his capability were better in terms of utility and flexibility. This pleased the overlord throughout the years he had trained him to do basic skills in his garden.
In the gardens he had many plants to work with, wither it be in cooking, or alchemy, he learned just enough to get by. He did however enjoy cooking, this was something his overlord found amusing. "A halfbreed enjoying the arts of cooking?", it was funny for a while at how excited young Cassius was to learn how to make simple things like bread to small pastries, it was something even a bit heart warming to those around. When he cooked, he was considerate of the slaves, which raised many eyebrows on the estate.
When he was inside, he enjoyed solving little puzzles from contraptions made, to disarming minor traps. It was fun to him, and amusing to see what triggers devices to what also disables them.
When he was just seventeen, the Overlord of the estate left on a business trip to inquire about his next set of slaves, and to his dismay,the son of the lord watched over the estate in his absence. During this period, Cassius was sliced, bruised, and abused by the Young lord. Cassius had enough when he saw himself bleeding, to one of the maids being outright stabbed over trying to defend the teenager. Cassius put his skills and reflexes to the test, in which he killed the Lord's son, and left with several slaves. He even took one of the most expensive set of clothes for his new life, with a handful of gems, and a Saber that belonged to the house.
He fled Tevinter where he'd escape to Ferelden, a land of opportunity. There, he heard legends of the land, events that he was sheltered from. It was clear to him his life was far from simply starting. To make it in life, he want to look for job opportunities.
Personality: He is inquisitive, snide, caring, and ultimately tranquil in terms of mental state about most things, so he is passively neutral unless the situation directly effects him.
Motivation:To make the most of his new life and break away from his innocence to do something with his life rather then sit down and do nothing.
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Secouant la tête Martin pointait vers Cassius. "Non, ce sera mieux pour elle dans les tunnels qu'ici. Beaucoup d'ombres pour qu'elle se cache dans si elle vient à cela. » En regardant les quatre volontaires, Martin a examiné ses options pour un moment avant d'affaiblir non committally. "Might aussi bien laisser tous les fo vous aller là-dedans. Au moins de cette façon, au moins un de vous peut être sur vos gardes pour n'importe quel... des problèmes." Alors qu'il parlait, il a soigneusement roulé son regard sur Paxton, Cassius et Lian, avant de finalement laisser ses yeux se poser sur Henrietta alors qu'il poignardait le dernier mot, presque comme une accusation.
« Quant aux autres, il a crié, élevant sa voix au reste de la Compagnie alors qu'il se tournait vers les forêts environnantes. "Disparaissez un peu et assurez-vous que rien ne se faufile sur nous. Mais n'allez pas trop loin, j'espère que ces misérables ne prendront pas trop de temps à scruter le chemin et je veux faire descendre ce chariot avant l'automne de la nuit. »
Après avoir parlé de sa pièce, le vieux soldat s'est déplacé d'un côté de la porte et s'est penché contre le mur, atteignant sa pipe comme il l'a fait. Ses nerfs étaient à la fin en ce moment, quelque chose au sujet des ombres sombres qui grouillaient autour d'eux d'entre les arbres lui a donné l'instinct sur le bord, et pour une fois la pensée de se diriger vers la sécurité relative des routes profondes semblait être une meilleure option que de s'accrocher à la surface, entouré de ces arbres.
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Fredrick
The Dog of FereldanBasic Information
Species:Elf
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Class Warrior
Appearance:
Fredrick is missing his left arm, and has many, MANY scars. He has brown eyes and a very feminine appearance. He is muscular, and short. He stands at five feet.Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations: Berserker, Reaver, Spirit Warrior(used through anger)
Notable Traits:
First Trait: Despite not being a mage, Fredrick has an oddly powerful connection to the Fade. This makes him more of a beacon for demons and spirits than an average person, though no where near the same extent as a mage. Rage demons in particular are attracted to him, for obvious reasons.
Second Trait: Fredrick's left arm was destroyed by a high dragon before. He has thus adapted his two-handed fighting style to use only one arm, and is very, VERY strong in that arm.
Third Trait: Fredrick has learned to form a semi-corporeal arm using his reaver and spirit warrior skills. This arm cannot properly grasp anything, but its amorphic nature allows him to use it as a Swiss army weapon.
Fourth trait Fredrick is VERY pro-freedom, and is always rooting for the underdog. He is also very sensitive if racism, and will willingly stand up to anyone who he feels is being unjust, common sense be damned.
FlawsFirst Flaw: Fredrick is an ANGRY little bugger. He is more or less always bitching about something or someone, and during combat he has to constantly fight against his own anger for control. His rage is a double edged sword in a fight, as, though it powers all of his skills, it also makes him less rational(duh). He can be smart, but rarely will he consider the smart idea when he can just inspire pantshitting terror.
Second Flaw: Fredrick is VERY hard headed. When he gets an idea in his head, he will stand by it, logic be damned.
Third Flaw: Fredrick is really socially awkward. His foot has taken permanent residence in his mouth and will not leave. He has the amazing power to say the dumbest thing possible.
Fourth Flaw HE ONLY HAS ONE FUCKING ARM. IT IS SO HARD TO DO THINGS ONE HANDED. HE NEEDS HELP UNSCREWING JARS. HE HAS ONE ARM.
Seriously though, while his abilities can compensate, he is still missing an arm. Out of combat he has various issues, and in combat he has to rely on a constant assault to keep himself safe, as having only one god damn arm means he can't attack and defend at the same time.
Skills
Growing Fury: A combination of berserk, frenzy and spirit warrior skills. Fredrick's combat rage has multiple stages to it, depending on how wounded he is and his furious he is. His second arm is tied to his rage too, not manifesting until the second stage of his fury.
1st Stage, Berserk: Fredrick's usual combat stage. Frothing at the mouth berserk fury, with no magic added. Fredrick swings Dragonslayer one handed, ripping through his foes.
Notable Skills: Various "two-handed" techniques, notably the very quick and powerful sunder arms and sunder armor, as well as Destroyer. He has a weakened version of frightening appearance, which is less Reaver powers and more being a terrifying berserk elf. He can use Final Blow, which exhausts his remaining energy and leaves him vulnerable.
2nd Stage, Unholy Frenzy: Fredrick rarely reaches this state.Fredrick's strength is further enhanced as he is wounded, and he begins to inspire bladder-failing terror with his warcrys and viscious attacks. He revels in blood, and regenerates if exposed to enemy blood. He can use frightening appearance to its true potential, and actually takes advantage of his terrifying nature to make his foes too scared to fight back. He can actively use Devour in order to heal further. He also forms a limb out of blood and fire in order to attack his foes. He gains use of overwhelm and dread howl while in this state of rage.
Third Stage Rage Demon: Fredrick sinks partially into the fade, gaining potent defensive and offensive benefits. His attacks become significantly faster, and blood becomes gravitating toward him to heal him. His formed arm becomes even more versatile, and he learns to use Fade Burst and Blood Rage. He gains use of Frenzy, Peon's Plight and Massacre, and regenerates health more with each foe killed. This state actively drains him, however, and he has only successfully manifested it for five seconds before. When this form wears off, he is extremely vulnerable.
He also has a Mabari named Mangy. The old wardog is good at harrowing foes and leaving them open to further assault, and is particularly good at taking down mages by overwhelming and murdering them.
Backstory
Biography: Backstory
Biography: Fredrick's family was a slightly wealthy one within the Denerim alienage. They lived relatively decent lives, and were able to bring up their kids with a decent education. Fredrick has an almost idealic life for a while, with a protective, kindly older sister named Nora, a hard working and wise father, and a gentle and loving mother.
He was STILL angry, of course. Fredrick was always short tempered. His reaction to anything was yelling. He was an absolute NIGHTMARE of a child to raise. The only reason he didn't get beat up by the other kids for his constant raging was because of the aforementioned older sister.
That changed when his sister was taken by the Circle. A human had been hitting his elven servant, and Fredrick, smart kid that he is, decided that the best solution was to swing a stick at the man. Considering he was nine at the time, he was slightly unsuccessful, and the man tried to attack him too.
Before the man could lay a hand on him, however, Nora did...something. She had held both of her hands out, and the man stood still. After a moment, he fell to the ground, unconscious.
Though the servant said nothing of her tiny saviors, word still got around. It was a few weeks of stressed waiting, and then Fredrick saw some big armored humans come and take her away. His family later got news of her having been slain while attempting to escape the circle.
Fredrick started getting into fights. A lot of fights. His parents constantly tried to get him to be more careful, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Fredrick did some good, however. While at first he mostly just fought the other kids, as he grew up he started fighting thugs, bullies. He has actually helped a decent number of people in Denerim. He even helped out a mabari breeder in Amaranthine while visiting family by driving off some thugs that were trying to steal some pups. Fredrick got a pup of his own for his troubles, whom he named Mangy. Mangy helped protect him, especially during the events of Tevinter slavers and other unrest in the alienage. Mangy even saved his life when they were helping protect the alienage.
After the Blight ended, Fredrick decided to take up mercenary work to help fund the reparation of the alienage. He and Mangy set off and joined with a group of mercenaries for a time. They gained quite a reputation as doers of the impossible. They went all over Denerim, and later beyond its borders, doing great deeds. Fredrick's company was called the Dogs of Fereldan, so named for their Chasind leader, and because Mangy became their mascot. The leader took Fredrick under his wing, and taught him to harness his rage more efficiently.
Eventually, they ended up hunting a rogue apostate in Kirkwall.
They tracked the Maleficar to a house in town, fully prepared to confirm who she was and kill her. However, when Fredrick saw her, his heart stopped.
The maleficar was his sister. She told him of how she had escaped and been named dead before her Harrowing. How she had turned to blood magic and unlocked the dalish secrets of the Arcane Warrior, and how she had dedicated herself to finding greater and greater power. How she planned on helping to free the mages.
And that was how Fredrick's mercenary company ended up doing covert operations against the Templars. They mostly smuggled mages away from Tower confines, killing any Templar that came after them. It was dirty work, as most Templars were good people, but Fredrick was willing to do it for his sister, and his mercenary company stood by its own.
Eventually, however, Fredrick found evidence of his sister's doings that he couldn't ignore.
Kidnapped children, men, women, even a few grey wardens. So many innocent people, suspended in glass jars and studied, experimented on.
His sister rationalized it. Freedom, at any costs. She was tired of being a slave, tired of being branded a criminal when all she wanted was freedom. Fredrick felt uneasy, but he allowed it.
One day, his company for a job to collect regeants for the mages. It all went well, till they tried to get Drake scales. They ended up attracting the attention of the Female, a powerful high dragon. It slew most of them, and Fredrick ended up losing his right arm when it tore into him.
After that, his rage boiled over. The details are hazy. He remembers climbing atop the corpses of his friends, piled as they were, and leaping into its snout. He remembers the haze of blood, and the rise and fall of his axe. He remembers a final swing of his great axe, and then rolling over, passing out in a pool of mixed blood.
He awoke in one of his sister's glass jars. She told him that he had been gone for a few days before she found him, and that she had only managed to save him through powerful blood magic. She told him she had found him next to the mangled corpse of a high dragon. It was decapitated, one of its wings had been torn out, and its skull had multiple fractures.
After that, Fredrick's short temper was even worse. For a few days, he had to seal himself off, as EVERYTHING sent him into a mad, raging fury. He worried that he had become an abomination, and his sister refused to tell him one way or the other.
It took months for Fredrick to recover properly, learning to harness his rage as a tool once more. With his company destroyed, Fredrick and Mangy were the last Dogs of Fereldan. During the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick felt his rage boil over to a breaking point. He had been fighting a particularly skilled Templar, and had been losing. Every swing of his axe was deflected by the man's shield. His blows seemed to drain Fredrick in an odd way, sapping his strength. He only won that fight when he flew into a rage beyond what he had ever encountered before. Blood flew about him, another weapon to wield. He became an animalistic thing, attacking ferociously, smacking his armored foe about like a pebble. He tore into his foe's armor with an appendage made of blood, and tore out his heart with his teeth. He then turned on...everyone. Friends, allies, enemies, all were the same. When he finally came to, Fredrick was horrified at what he had done. What he had become.
After the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick's sister disappeared. He found her journal, left to him by her. She claimed not to want to be followed, that the war wasn't over.
She told him the truth of how he had been saved. That she had taken the blood of all the other surviving Dogs of Fereldan, and that of the dragon, and used them to change him. She hadn't healed his wounds. She had changed him so he could do it himself.
Fredrick sent Mangy home, and wandered about for a time, dissilusioned. He tossed himself into any fights he could find. His parents tried to contact him, but he avoided them. He was no longer their son. He was a monster. He wasn't even angry anymore. Just...tired.
At one point, he passed through Denerim. He had gone months without eating, and was basically a skeleton with axe and armor. He collapsed on the streets, dying.
He woke up in a comfortable bed, the smell of his mother's cooking wafting in. He felt Mangy lying next to him, and could hear his father talking about current events with his mom.
For a moment, he thought he had died. Mangy's stinky breath in his face told him otherwise.
His parents told him how Mangy had suddenly left, and came back dragging his armored form through the alienage.
Fredrick stayed for a while, doing work for the Guard. He stayed, and he healed. He learned of the stories that had been told about him back home, of how he'd become the hero that elves told their children about in Denerim. How the Dog of Fereldan was upheld by the Chasind as one of their legends. How Fereldan took pride in its Dogs, and in their final survivor.
Fredrick found a purpose again. His family knew that the truth was darker than the tales said. They didn't care. As much as he had worried and annoyed and irritated and ignored them, his family still loved him.
He eventually left again, Mangy at his side. He took mercenary work again, with all his loved ones in mind. He would make them proud.
And whether she wanted to be followed or not, he would find Nora, and bring her home.
Personality and/or Motivation: Fredrick is an angry, short tempered and surly individual with a strong moral code. He's far less violent than he used to be, and tries to avoid physical violence whenever he can.
He works out most of his frustration and temper through angry, sassy quips. Amd he never seems to stop talking.
He is EXTREMELY protective of his loved ones. Especially Mangy. You hurt his dog, you die.
Meanwhile, while he has some demons to face, he is actually happy about his life. He believes that there is good in the world, and he feels like it's worth fighting for. While he acts like a pessimist, he is VERY MUCH an optimist.
He loves to bake, secretly.
Player’s long term goals.
A chance to absolute berserk massacre a large group of enemies.
Mangy must piss on a lot of sacred artifacts to mark his territory
Get a chance to embarrass himself in front of an entire royal court.
Get ass kicked by a superior raging warrior.
Win in the rematch through NOT losing control.
Find his sister. Confront her over her actions, and work things out.
Avoid a huge massacre by being REALLY FUCKING SCARY.
Relations:
Fereldan Adoration: Fredrick is well-thought of by his home country, who have received watered down tales of his exploits.
Alienage: Especially Denerim's Alienage, who have received a LOT of money from him. They basically worship him there. Especially since the first act of his mercenary career was helping defend the alienage.
ApostateMages: Many mages, especially in Kirkwall, owe him their lives.
Chantry: For good reason, the Templars KINDA dislike him.
Secrets:
Fredrick keeps the darker side of his exploits under wraps. As far as anyone knows, he is just an angry, one armed hero. No one knows that the hunched beast that killed so many during kirkwall's final battle was him. Very few tales include the second stage of his fury, and no one knows about the third. The official story of him facing the dragon leaves out the part about him being healed with the lifeblood of his allies.
He also tries not to let anyone know that his missing sister is a known and dangerous maleficar.
Quotes:
"Nora, sis, I love you and cherish you, you know this, but WHAT THE SHRIEKING TIT NIPPLE KINGLY SHIT FUCK ARE ALL THOSE TRIPLE DARKSPAWN ORGY FUCKING PEOPLE DOING IN JARS!?"
"Fuck the rain! If I wanted water, I would have gone to a fucking well! Fucking Maker!"
"TEN SILVER!? FOR A FUCKING POULTICE?!? YOU SHITASSED MOTHERFUCKING SHITASS!"
"FUCK THOSE FUCKING FUCKERS!"
(To an arl) "FUCK YOUR COUCH, FUCK YOUR DOG CUZ MINE'S COOLER, FUCK YOUR MOM, YOUR DAD, YOUR UGLY ASS WIFE, YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY LINE, YOUR WHOLE ARLING, YOUR DUMB ASS SON AND SLUTTY ASS DAUGHTER, AND MOST OF ALL, FUCK YOU!"
"FUCK THAT!"
"FUCK!"
"SHIT!"
"SHIT FUCK!"
"For the love of the damned Maker. If another half assed fucking spider crawls out, I will shit out a rage snake and beat everyone in this cave ha fucking death with it!"
And, most commonly of all,
"Fuck you!"
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Attends, alors ils vont aller à l'explorateur de cowboy et on reste ici et on garde? Freddy a dit, avant de s'arrêter, "Fuckin SWEET! C'est la première compagnie de merc que j'ai été dans qui n'a pas fait le "héros de berker légendaire" faire toute la merde effrayante! Merde, merci! Je pourrais en fait gérer une quantité raisonnable de danger au lieu d'être des boules dans la mort à toutes les heures de la journée! Merci, Martin. Je vous remercie. Je t'aime. Épouse-moi."
Freddy a gâché, avant de les regarder.
"Rappelez-vous, travaillez ensemble. Et ne laisse personne derrière toi, ou je te tue moi-même. Vous êtes tous pliés, sauf peut-être Etta, alors les voyous devraient profiter de cette occasion unique pour flanquer le hardcore. Souviens-toi, sois prudent. En fait, j'aime bien tes enfoirés méprisables.
Maintenant, je suis une merde de gardien. Martin, parlons-en plus tard."
Freddy puis Knuckle a touché Etta, et est parti. Mangy est resté pour aboyer certains ordres, commandant aguerri qu'il était. Espérons que l'un d'eux était fereldan et pouvait traduire.
Par la suite, Mangy s'est approché de Gerard. Il s'est arrêté, avant d'aboyer quelques fois. Il s'est ensuite plié sur l'estomac devant le mage.
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Name: Gerald Capet
Species: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Class: Mage
Appearance:
Gerald has a thin but not frail build that reflects his time of study and shelter in the Kirkwall Circle of Magi. He has very little muscle having only gained such from his long walk back to Fereldan after the Kirkwall Incident. He has pasty white skin with very little color and dark grey eyes. His hair is blonde and is short cut but almost straw like in how it looks. He has a thin nose and is about the size of the average human male. He gives off a very nonthreatening presence due to his appearance however at will that can change as he can use his pure raw magical might to frighten most people with ease due to his training while visiting his family in Fereldan showing him how to project himself like a noble.
Curriculum Vitae:
Specializations:
Spirit Healer
Primal
Entropy
Creation
Notable Traits:
Extremely potent magi (he can cast powerful spells and he can cast a lot of smaller spells)
Very talented in elemental spells mainly the fire Branch
Very capable of learning quickly in regards to the magical arts
Can adapt well in the middle of a battle
Mentally strong (isn't easily seduced by spirits and people trying to break him).
Flaws:
Extremely poor stealth skills
Average to poor levels of physical strength
Untrained in physical weapons (bows, melee, weapons, shields, etc)
Lacks charisma and leadership capabilities (meaning he can't lead anything smaller than a handful of people)
Lacks armor training (meaning he doesn't move as well if in armor which piles on top of his already poor maneuverability)
Has rather poor flexibility (movement wise)
Skills:
Arcane Bolt
Arcane Shield
Staff Focus
Flame Blast
Flaming Weapons
Fireball
Winter Grasp
Lightning
Shock
Disorient
Glyph of Paralysis
Heal
Group Heal
Mind Blast
Biography:
Born in Kirkwall to the Noble House of Capet he was born to a family that needed an heir direly in Kirkwall. As first born he was to be heir to their house but there was a catch...he was born with an incredible magical power. His father Devon Capet was reluctant to give him up due to his own nightmares about his son's futures both in his sleep and in the political scene he kept this hidden from the Knight Commander. His mother agreed to go along with this and they chose to keep their son in their house with the family butler Alfred at all times except on rare occasions when they needed him to leave. His parents were extremely cautious with their young son and as such they had Alfred study spirits and other arcane things in order to help their son. Alfred comforted young Gerald as he grew up early in life with dreams of spirits of valor showing themselves to Gerald in his dreams as a young lad, and when he'd wake up in a panic at night through nightmares where pride demons tried to coax the young lad into letting them into him. Gerald came to view spirits as black and white and they were either good or evil as his father Devon told him.
As he grew older he began to show more tangible signs of power when he nearly burned the clothes off his father in one incident and froze his pencils by mistake. His family took a apostate into the household in order to teach young Gerald about his powers only for it to lead to an incident where in the market where he confused an older Templar by using his magic for being a jerk to Alfred. The Templars went to his father and demanded to him that they release Gerald into their custody. His father reluctantly accepted and he went to the circle of magi with the man who'd later allow him to escape Kirkwall Harris Mackley.
When he first entered the circle he was unsure and hesitant to talk to others but he soon gained many friends as he found peers who shared his powers. He also grew to hate elves as a certain group of mages taunted him for being a 'blue blooded craven' and taunted him constantly. As he started his new journey in the circle he passed his Harrowing after two years in the circle with minimal ease due to his past experience with spirits. His time in the circle was spent learning under Orsino's left hand Victor Stark, a human man born in the Free Marches who was sent to this circle due to the lack of teachers in Kirkwall.
Under Victor's strict tutoring Gerald learned how to use his affinity for fire magic to quickly become a formidable mage of note in Kirkwall. He also slowly grew to have a distaste for the Knight Commander who was clamping down on mages ever more over the years. He grew to respect a few of the people who held him captive and understand why they were there exactly as he lost a friend to a harrowing when he turned into an abomination despite Gerald's warnings to the contrary. Having lost his friend he vowed he'd do better to warn people about the dangers of spirits and demons himself and began to tutor younger mages to their relief. It was not until the Blight started however that his life would change drastically.
When people started to flood into Kirkwall the templars stationed there became more controlling over the mages causing some to chafe under their tightening collars and due to a surge in blood mages and apostates running around the island they became even more paranoid. Gerald on the other hand simply continued to teach the students who asked for help and those who were struggling with studies when he was informed that he had a new baby brother who was not a mage. He was mixed about this news and in the end chose to ignore it as it dealt about politics no longer of interest to him. He also ended up with a surge of new mages from Fereldan who were forced into his circle leading to more packed quarters and more people to deal with which stressed his mentor Victor. As the Qunari arrived things simply became that much worse as the templars and politicians grew more and more restless as with the surge in apostates, blood mages, Carta, and qunari deserters. Though he had few interactions with the Qunari he found them disgusting creatures as they served through the Qun which essentially made them all of one mind. No individuality among them and all of them served without question. Those who didn't became bandits who ravaged the coast. What good was being grouped together if there was no chance to diverge and evolve?
Gerald gave little trouble to the templars due to his own fears of them cracking down on mages became more and more true. The mages who feared the templars only drove them to tighten the noose around them and caused scuffles between them. Orsino sought out Victor's council more and more leaving Gerald to tend to his own duties. However he had increasingly been visited by various spirits in the fade while sleeping who taught him many things including how to heal others. Gerald took this knowledge in hand but refused to use it primarily because he didn't trust spirits after the harrowing and his own nightmares with demons and on the side because he didn't want to be strung up like some sort of abomination. As his fame in the circle grew he met with the Grey Wardens who considered him for recruitment but were denied by Victor's objections and Gerald's own polite rejections.
It was on the eve of the night when the poor quarter of Kirkwall was attacked by a mad elf the solidified the distrust between him and elves. Gerald already found them repulsive due to their pride and their insistence that the Dalish were better but now an elven mad woman had poisoned the whole part of a city. Anger welled up inside of him but thanks to his mentor he managed to calm himself down but he refused to take any more elven students. It was during the time that his dad managed to get approval by the viscount to visit his son in the circle. The two managed to get along well enough after a long time apart. He also met his younger brother Calvin for the first time. The two didn't interact much but Gerald was glad to have met him.
After some time the Qunari suddenly snapped and attacked the city. Gerald was off trying to find a lost mage when he was attacked practically out of the blue by the qunari. He used his superior magical talents to simply kill off the small group of them with ease. After this he fled back to the circle where he found a group of young mages injured outside of the circle and on the brink of being slaughtered by the qunari. Disgust welled up inside of him and he slew a few more of them before forcing the others to flee. Seeing his friends dying he had no choice as he reluctantly called upon the spirits he had met in the fade and used their power to heal the wounds of the group as best as he could. After that he and his friend Harris used forced the qunari attacking them to back off. Harris was ushered off to the circle with the youngest of the mages with them and Gerald finished off the rest using a combination of funneling them through an alley, and paralysis glyphs followed up with fire magic to kill the remaining mages. He found out later that his younger brother was accidentally killed in the incident.
Following the event he took no part in the mage-templar conspiracy despite requests to do so in Kirkwall viewing them as petty and only making the already horrific situation worse. He was sickened by the knight commander but understood her reasoning and he viewed Orsino as a fool by not making drastic measures to stop it from coming to the current state. It was on the night of the annulment of the circle of Kirkwall when he was to be transferred to another circle in Orlais. A sudden outbreak in fighting occurred after a massive explosion in the middle of the city. Unsure about what was happening Harris told Gerald to get back to the circle. However his gut instinct told him that whatever was going to happen in the city was not going to end well for him. Besides the fact that he was sick of this city and all that it entailed he fled the city leaving the city to burn in the moonlight as he sailed away. Instead of going to Orlais however he fled to his uncle in Fereldan's House Capet.
His uncle informed him of what happened in the city and while he didn't know Gerald he was a strong believer that family stuck together and took Gerald in. There he took refuge as a court adviser to his uncle in regards to magical affairs keeping his magical abilities secret to everyone before deciding that he was tired of court in itself and traveled the land in search of a purpose. It was when he saw and heard of the mages had rebelled that he decided that he needed to not only become stronger but found a place where mages could not be hassled by templars but still be controlled by their peers. He didn't join the Inquisition formally but he helped them on the side with slaying dark spawn and rebels. Figuring he had nothing to lose he went to Cumberland where he joined up with an odd mercenary group just recently hoping that the odd group would allow him to find a way to become stronger and keep him out of the sights of people who preyed on lone mages as he had gotten sick of all the butchery in recent history.
Player’s long term goals: Become an Archmage, Become a expert in elemental magic, become the head of a circle or found his own.
Relations: House Capet of Kirkwall and Fereldan, Templars (he still has a few friends from his time in Kirkwall being a model mage), The former Circle of Magi, The Former Circle of Kirkwall.
Secrets: Spirits are unusually interested in him due to his power and though he plays it off he actually is very much aware of how much they are aware of him. Demons are attracted to him as well and try to convert them into one of them in an attempt to make a very powerful demon. He is also the heir to the Kirkwall House Capet branch.
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Je ne savais pas que tu parlais à Mabari! Freddy a dit dans sa voix criante caractéristique, apparemment se matérialisant derrière Gerard.
Mangy aboie quelques fois, et Freddy a froncé.
"Gerard, t'étais juste en train de chier sur Mangy? Putain, mon chien n'a pas besoin de ta négativité, machinateur de merde. Et Martin a dit de garder la zone. Mais sur cette note... Je me demande si ça vaut la peine de ramasser des herbes potions. Etta ou Cass pourraient probablement brasser des potions si on le demandait. Quant à moi, je reconnais assez bien les herbes médicinales. Je ne sais pas comment les transformer en potions."
Freddy a souri, "Tu veux venir avec moi pour en parler à Martin?"
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Name: Gerald Capet
Species: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Class: Mage
Appearance:
Gerald has a thin but not frail build that reflects his time of study and shelter in the Kirkwall Circle of Magi. He has very little muscle having only gained such from his long walk back to Fereldan after the Kirkwall Incident. He has pasty white skin with very little color and dark grey eyes. His hair is blonde and is short cut but almost straw like in how it looks. He has a thin nose and is about the size of the average human male. He gives off a very nonthreatening presence due to his appearance however at will that can change as he can use his pure raw magical might to frighten most people with ease due to his training while visiting his family in Fereldan showing him how to project himself like a noble.
Curriculum Vitae:
Specializations:
Spirit Healer
Primal
Entropy
Creation
Notable Traits:
Extremely potent magi (he can cast powerful spells and he can cast a lot of smaller spells)
Very talented in elemental spells mainly the fire Branch
Very capable of learning quickly in regards to the magical arts
Can adapt well in the middle of a battle
Mentally strong (isn't easily seduced by spirits and people trying to break him).
Flaws:
Extremely poor stealth skills
Average to poor levels of physical strength
Untrained in physical weapons (bows, melee, weapons, shields, etc)
Lacks charisma and leadership capabilities (meaning he can't lead anything smaller than a handful of people)
Lacks armor training (meaning he doesn't move as well if in armor which piles on top of his already poor maneuverability)
Has rather poor flexibility (movement wise)
Skills:
Arcane Bolt
Arcane Shield
Staff Focus
Flame Blast
Flaming Weapons
Fireball
Winter Grasp
Lightning
Shock
Disorient
Glyph of Paralysis
Heal
Group Heal
Mind Blast
Biography:
Born in Kirkwall to the Noble House of Capet he was born to a family that needed an heir direly in Kirkwall. As first born he was to be heir to their house but there was a catch...he was born with an incredible magical power. His father Devon Capet was reluctant to give him up due to his own nightmares about his son's futures both in his sleep and in the political scene he kept this hidden from the Knight Commander. His mother agreed to go along with this and they chose to keep their son in their house with the family butler Alfred at all times except on rare occasions when they needed him to leave. His parents were extremely cautious with their young son and as such they had Alfred study spirits and other arcane things in order to help their son. Alfred comforted young Gerald as he grew up early in life with dreams of spirits of valor showing themselves to Gerald in his dreams as a young lad, and when he'd wake up in a panic at night through nightmares where pride demons tried to coax the young lad into letting them into him. Gerald came to view spirits as black and white and they were either good or evil as his father Devon told him.
As he grew older he began to show more tangible signs of power when he nearly burned the clothes off his father in one incident and froze his pencils by mistake. His family took a apostate into the household in order to teach young Gerald about his powers only for it to lead to an incident where in the market where he confused an older Templar by using his magic for being a jerk to Alfred. The Templars went to his father and demanded to him that they release Gerald into their custody. His father reluctantly accepted and he went to the circle of magi with the man who'd later allow him to escape Kirkwall Harris Mackley.
When he first entered the circle he was unsure and hesitant to talk to others but he soon gained many friends as he found peers who shared his powers. He also grew to hate elves as a certain group of mages taunted him for being a 'blue blooded craven' and taunted him constantly. As he started his new journey in the circle he passed his Harrowing after two years in the circle with minimal ease due to his past experience with spirits. His time in the circle was spent learning under Orsino's left hand Victor Stark, a human man born in the Free Marches who was sent to this circle due to the lack of teachers in Kirkwall.
Under Victor's strict tutoring Gerald learned how to use his affinity for fire magic to quickly become a formidable mage of note in Kirkwall. He also slowly grew to have a distaste for the Knight Commander who was clamping down on mages ever more over the years. He grew to respect a few of the people who held him captive and understand why they were there exactly as he lost a friend to a harrowing when he turned into an abomination despite Gerald's warnings to the contrary. Having lost his friend he vowed he'd do better to warn people about the dangers of spirits and demons himself and began to tutor younger mages to their relief. It was not until the Blight started however that his life would change drastically.
When people started to flood into Kirkwall the templars stationed there became more controlling over the mages causing some to chafe under their tightening collars and due to a surge in blood mages and apostates running around the island they became even more paranoid. Gerald on the other hand simply continued to teach the students who asked for help and those who were struggling with studies when he was informed that he had a new baby brother who was not a mage. He was mixed about this news and in the end chose to ignore it as it dealt about politics no longer of interest to him. He also ended up with a surge of new mages from Fereldan who were forced into his circle leading to more packed quarters and more people to deal with which stressed his mentor Victor. As the Qunari arrived things simply became that much worse as the templars and politicians grew more and more restless as with the surge in apostates, blood mages, Carta, and qunari deserters. Though he had few interactions with the Qunari he found them disgusting creatures as they served through the Qun which essentially made them all of one mind. No individuality among them and all of them served without question. Those who didn't became bandits who ravaged the coast. What good was being grouped together if there was no chance to diverge and evolve?
Gerald gave little trouble to the templars due to his own fears of them cracking down on mages became more and more true. The mages who feared the templars only drove them to tighten the noose around them and caused scuffles between them. Orsino sought out Victor's council more and more leaving Gerald to tend to his own duties. However he had increasingly been visited by various spirits in the fade while sleeping who taught him many things including how to heal others. Gerald took this knowledge in hand but refused to use it primarily because he didn't trust spirits after the harrowing and his own nightmares with demons and on the side because he didn't want to be strung up like some sort of abomination. As his fame in the circle grew he met with the Grey Wardens who considered him for recruitment but were denied by Victor's objections and Gerald's own polite rejections.
It was on the eve of the night when the poor quarter of Kirkwall was attacked by a mad elf the solidified the distrust between him and elves. Gerald already found them repulsive due to their pride and their insistence that the Dalish were better but now an elven mad woman had poisoned the whole part of a city. Anger welled up inside of him but thanks to his mentor he managed to calm himself down but he refused to take any more elven students. It was during the time that his dad managed to get approval by the viscount to visit his son in the circle. The two managed to get along well enough after a long time apart. He also met his younger brother Calvin for the first time. The two didn't interact much but Gerald was glad to have met him.
After some time the Qunari suddenly snapped and attacked the city. Gerald was off trying to find a lost mage when he was attacked practically out of the blue by the qunari. He used his superior magical talents to simply kill off the small group of them with ease. After this he fled back to the circle where he found a group of young mages injured outside of the circle and on the brink of being slaughtered by the qunari. Disgust welled up inside of him and he slew a few more of them before forcing the others to flee. Seeing his friends dying he had no choice as he reluctantly called upon the spirits he had met in the fade and used their power to heal the wounds of the group as best as he could. After that he and his friend Harris used forced the qunari attacking them to back off. Harris was ushered off to the circle with the youngest of the mages with them and Gerald finished off the rest using a combination of funneling them through an alley, and paralysis glyphs followed up with fire magic to kill the remaining mages. He found out later that his younger brother was accidentally killed in the incident.
Following the event he took no part in the mage-templar conspiracy despite requests to do so in Kirkwall viewing them as petty and only making the already horrific situation worse. He was sickened by the knight commander but understood her reasoning and he viewed Orsino as a fool by not making drastic measures to stop it from coming to the current state. It was on the night of the annulment of the circle of Kirkwall when he was to be transferred to another circle in Orlais. A sudden outbreak in fighting occurred after a massive explosion in the middle of the city. Unsure about what was happening Harris told Gerald to get back to the circle. However his gut instinct told him that whatever was going to happen in the city was not going to end well for him. Besides the fact that he was sick of this city and all that it entailed he fled the city leaving the city to burn in the moonlight as he sailed away. Instead of going to Orlais however he fled to his uncle in Fereldan's House Capet.
His uncle informed him of what happened in the city and while he didn't know Gerald he was a strong believer that family stuck together and took Gerald in. There he took refuge as a court adviser to his uncle in regards to magical affairs keeping his magical abilities secret to everyone before deciding that he was tired of court in itself and traveled the land in search of a purpose. It was when he saw and heard of the mages had rebelled that he decided that he needed to not only become stronger but found a place where mages could not be hassled by templars but still be controlled by their peers. He didn't join the Inquisition formally but he helped them on the side with slaying dark spawn and rebels. Figuring he had nothing to lose he went to Cumberland where he joined up with an odd mercenary group just recently hoping that the odd group would allow him to find a way to become stronger and keep him out of the sights of people who preyed on lone mages as he had gotten sick of all the butchery in recent history.
Player’s long term goals: Become an Archmage, Become a expert in elemental magic, become the head of a circle or found his own.
Relations: House Capet of Kirkwall and Fereldan, Templars (he still has a few friends from his time in Kirkwall being a model mage), The former Circle of Magi, The Former Circle of Kirkwall.
Secrets: Spirits are unusually interested in him due to his power and though he plays it off he actually is very much aware of how much they are aware of him. Demons are attracted to him as well and try to convert them into one of them in an attempt to make a very powerful demon. He is also the heir to the Kirkwall House Capet branch.
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Cassius regarda les deux dans un léger ennui. "Je n'ai encore rien vu de légendaire sur vous, deuxièmement, je suis un guérisseur qui se trouve juste avoir des mains rapides et la capacité d'aller à moitié dans le fade." Avec une vague de ses mains, il est devenu quelque peu vu à travers.
"Alors, s'il vous plaît, arrêtez les stupides shenanigans. Chaque fois que le mot "Fuck" sort de ta bouche, je suis un peu plus près de te casser le bras et de te frapper la tête... toute autre chose que tu dis est "fuck". C'est tout ce que tu as à dire? Je pensais sûrement que les Dalish pouvaient parler plus qu'un ensemble de mots acquis par l'homme. » Cassius était un peu ennuyé de voir jusqu'où son peuple pouvait se réduire.
"Sache quoi, je n'en entendrai rien." Cassius se tourna sur son talon et marcha dans le tunnel, déjà à moitié dans le fade; tel était la bonne préparation d'un guerrier Arcane, mais dans son cas un Arcane Rouge.
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Name: Cassius Alexandros Svent.
Nickname: Cas.
Species: Half breed, Human and Elf.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Class: Rogue/ mage hybrid.
Appearance: Stands at 5'11 to 6ft, hour class frame, large feet, broad shoulders, scrawny arms. Cream colored skin, hazel green eyes, shoulder length dark chocolate brown hair. Somewhat of a straight nose, beak like. Wide hips, thick thighs.
As for clothes he mostly wears Blue and Black Velvet like garments that are light and easy to move in. Most of which have clashing patterns that overlap in an elegant yet messy way.
Specializations: Arcane Warrior, Spirit healer.
Notable Traits: He tends to be observant as well as quiet, has a lisp, tends to fold his arms, move his hands and body accordingly when he speaks, and usually stares blank faced.
Flaws: He has several minor scars on his face, to a dent in the middle of his forehead. His right fore arm has cut on it as well as the elbow. In terms of a personality flaw, he tends to take things too seriously at times, to just being snide and sarcastic. He also is tranquil in the sense of personality, but in truth he is very caring despite his sense of apathy.
Skills: Healing, regenerative spells, revival, because of being an arcane Warrior, he can fight with a sword effectively as well as utalize all Arcane Warrior skills. Fade step, telekinetic weapons as well as mindblast. Occasionally he will do a low blow to throwing dirt in one's eyes. Tier two Lockpicking and pickpoketing,Dispell and Evasion.
Outside of combat, he also knows a bit of alchemy. He can make minor tonics provided he has the materials.
Biography: He was born as a slave to a family in the Imperium as he was sold off by his parents. Rather then being treated as a slave, he was treated as an apprentice on the estate he lived in, but he still witnessed jarring things that made him not feel as safe, such as torture of other hand maids of the lord of the estate. At times it would either be beheadings, to severe branding by magic, to entropy to drive others to insanity, the screams always made him feel unsafe and gave him the mentality he could be next, that they could snap on him relatively quickly.
With fear being his drive to try to be proper and show no fear, he did whatever he was tasked, even if he was a failure at some relatively new task, such as forging items from materials, to being able to use major magics. He was only capable of minor magics, and his overlord took note of this. His overlord in particular and wanted to see the potential of halfbreeds, fortunately the results of his capability were better in terms of utility and flexibility. This pleased the overlord throughout the years he had trained him to do basic skills in his garden.
In the gardens he had many plants to work with, wither it be in cooking, or alchemy, he learned just enough to get by. He did however enjoy cooking, this was something his overlord found amusing. "A halfbreed enjoying the arts of cooking?", it was funny for a while at how excited young Cassius was to learn how to make simple things like bread to small pastries, it was something even a bit heart warming to those around. When he cooked, he was considerate of the slaves, which raised many eyebrows on the estate.
When he was inside, he enjoyed solving little puzzles from contraptions made, to disarming minor traps. It was fun to him, and amusing to see what triggers devices to what also disables them.
When he was just seventeen, the Overlord of the estate left on a business trip to inquire about his next set of slaves, and to his dismay,the son of the lord watched over the estate in his absence. During this period, Cassius was sliced, bruised, and abused by the Young lord. Cassius had enough when he saw himself bleeding, to one of the maids being outright stabbed over trying to defend the teenager. Cassius put his skills and reflexes to the test, in which he killed the Lord's son, and left with several slaves. He even took one of the most expensive set of clothes for his new life, with a handful of gems, and a Saber that belonged to the house.
He fled Tevinter where he'd escape to Ferelden, a land of opportunity. There, he heard legends of the land, events that he was sheltered from. It was clear to him his life was far from simply starting. To make it in life, he want to look for job opportunities.
Personality: He is inquisitive, snide, caring, and ultimately tranquil in terms of mental state about most things, so he is passively neutral unless the situation directly effects him.
Motivation:To make the most of his new life and break away from his innocence to do something with his life rather then sit down and do nothing.
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Freddy a regardé Cass, puis a ri. Il a pris l'arcane rogue, et l'a tiré près, avant de parler directement dans son visage.
"Oooh, putain de langage coquin. Mieux vaut garder nos oreilles chaste et virginale. Et je suis content que tu ne me reconnaisses pas. C'est pour ça que j'ai quitté Fereldan. Content de voir que tu as des testicules, alors, connard. Gardez cette attitude, elle vous gardera en vie », a dit Freddy avec un sourire, « Bien, pas sage de menacer des blessures corporelles contre moi. Pas de putain de problème maintenant, mais gardez à l'esprit que menacer vos alliés est littéralement stupide.
Et au fait, à part les tatouages, je ne suis clairement pas éblouissant."
Avec ça, Freddy l'a laissé aller et s'est retourné vers Gerard, "Fucking a joué aux échecs? Merde, tu dois me tirer la jambe. Mais oui, peut-être qu'il serait sage de demander à notre chef intrépide. Un peu de temps pour obtenir des herbes peut sauver des vies, après tout."
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Name: Cassius Alexandros Svent.
Nickname: Cas.
Species: Half breed, Human and Elf.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Class: Rogue/ mage hybrid.
Appearance: Stands at 5'11 to 6ft, hour class frame, large feet, broad shoulders, scrawny arms. Cream colored skin, hazel green eyes, shoulder length dark chocolate brown hair. Somewhat of a straight nose, beak like. Wide hips, thick thighs.
As for clothes he mostly wears Blue and Black Velvet like garments that are light and easy to move in. Most of which have clashing patterns that overlap in an elegant yet messy way.
Specializations: Arcane Warrior, Spirit healer.
Notable Traits: He tends to be observant as well as quiet, has a lisp, tends to fold his arms, move his hands and body accordingly when he speaks, and usually stares blank faced.
Flaws: He has several minor scars on his face, to a dent in the middle of his forehead. His right fore arm has cut on it as well as the elbow. In terms of a personality flaw, he tends to take things too seriously at times, to just being snide and sarcastic. He also is tranquil in the sense of personality, but in truth he is very caring despite his sense of apathy.
Skills: Healing, regenerative spells, revival, because of being an arcane Warrior, he can fight with a sword effectively as well as utalize all Arcane Warrior skills. Fade step, telekinetic weapons as well as mindblast. Occasionally he will do a low blow to throwing dirt in one's eyes. Tier two Lockpicking and pickpoketing,Dispell and Evasion.
Outside of combat, he also knows a bit of alchemy. He can make minor tonics provided he has the materials.
Biography: He was born as a slave to a family in the Imperium as he was sold off by his parents. Rather then being treated as a slave, he was treated as an apprentice on the estate he lived in, but he still witnessed jarring things that made him not feel as safe, such as torture of other hand maids of the lord of the estate. At times it would either be beheadings, to severe branding by magic, to entropy to drive others to insanity, the screams always made him feel unsafe and gave him the mentality he could be next, that they could snap on him relatively quickly.
With fear being his drive to try to be proper and show no fear, he did whatever he was tasked, even if he was a failure at some relatively new task, such as forging items from materials, to being able to use major magics. He was only capable of minor magics, and his overlord took note of this. His overlord in particular and wanted to see the potential of halfbreeds, fortunately the results of his capability were better in terms of utility and flexibility. This pleased the overlord throughout the years he had trained him to do basic skills in his garden.
In the gardens he had many plants to work with, wither it be in cooking, or alchemy, he learned just enough to get by. He did however enjoy cooking, this was something his overlord found amusing. "A halfbreed enjoying the arts of cooking?", it was funny for a while at how excited young Cassius was to learn how to make simple things like bread to small pastries, it was something even a bit heart warming to those around. When he cooked, he was considerate of the slaves, which raised many eyebrows on the estate.
When he was inside, he enjoyed solving little puzzles from contraptions made, to disarming minor traps. It was fun to him, and amusing to see what triggers devices to what also disables them.
When he was just seventeen, the Overlord of the estate left on a business trip to inquire about his next set of slaves, and to his dismay,the son of the lord watched over the estate in his absence. During this period, Cassius was sliced, bruised, and abused by the Young lord. Cassius had enough when he saw himself bleeding, to one of the maids being outright stabbed over trying to defend the teenager. Cassius put his skills and reflexes to the test, in which he killed the Lord's son, and left with several slaves. He even took one of the most expensive set of clothes for his new life, with a handful of gems, and a Saber that belonged to the house.
He fled Tevinter where he'd escape to Ferelden, a land of opportunity. There, he heard legends of the land, events that he was sheltered from. It was clear to him his life was far from simply starting. To make it in life, he want to look for job opportunities.
Personality: He is inquisitive, snide, caring, and ultimately tranquil in terms of mental state about most things, so he is passively neutral unless the situation directly effects him.
Motivation:To make the most of his new life and break away from his innocence to do something with his life rather then sit down and do nothing.
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Freddy a attrapé la main de Cass quand il a poussé son front. Il s'est serré, assez dur pour contuser, avant de dessiner son visage de près.
"Ne fais pas ça. C'est pas vrai. Touche-moi."
Il a ensuite poussé Cass loin, et a souri.
"Je n'ai pas vraiment à me prouver à des mages stupides qui ont des problèmes de colère pires que moi. Au revoir, connard. Gardez votre fête en vie là-bas."
Il se retourna ensuite et continua à parler à Gerard. Il regrettait sa colère momentanée, mais il n'aimait pas que les gens le touchent agressivement. Cependant, il ne comprenait pas non plus l'argumentation aléatoire de Cass avec lui. Dans l'esprit de Freddy, il avait donné des conseils, partait pour faire d'autres merdes, et avait un membre du groupe qui partait actuellement le suivre pour commencer à se moquer de lui.
Freddy pensait qu'il était censé être en colère!
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Name: Cassius Alexandros Svent.
Nickname: Cas.
Species: Half breed, Human and Elf.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Class: Rogue/ mage hybrid.
Appearance: Stands at 5'11 to 6ft, hour class frame, large feet, broad shoulders, scrawny arms. Cream colored skin, hazel green eyes, shoulder length dark chocolate brown hair. Somewhat of a straight nose, beak like. Wide hips, thick thighs.
As for clothes he mostly wears Blue and Black Velvet like garments that are light and easy to move in. Most of which have clashing patterns that overlap in an elegant yet messy way.
Specializations: Arcane Warrior, Spirit healer.
Notable Traits: He tends to be observant as well as quiet, has a lisp, tends to fold his arms, move his hands and body accordingly when he speaks, and usually stares blank faced.
Flaws: He has several minor scars on his face, to a dent in the middle of his forehead. His right fore arm has cut on it as well as the elbow. In terms of a personality flaw, he tends to take things too seriously at times, to just being snide and sarcastic. He also is tranquil in the sense of personality, but in truth he is very caring despite his sense of apathy.
Skills: Healing, regenerative spells, revival, because of being an arcane Warrior, he can fight with a sword effectively as well as utalize all Arcane Warrior skills. Fade step, telekinetic weapons as well as mindblast. Occasionally he will do a low blow to throwing dirt in one's eyes. Tier two Lockpicking and pickpoketing,Dispell and Evasion.
Outside of combat, he also knows a bit of alchemy. He can make minor tonics provided he has the materials.
Biography: He was born as a slave to a family in the Imperium as he was sold off by his parents. Rather then being treated as a slave, he was treated as an apprentice on the estate he lived in, but he still witnessed jarring things that made him not feel as safe, such as torture of other hand maids of the lord of the estate. At times it would either be beheadings, to severe branding by magic, to entropy to drive others to insanity, the screams always made him feel unsafe and gave him the mentality he could be next, that they could snap on him relatively quickly.
With fear being his drive to try to be proper and show no fear, he did whatever he was tasked, even if he was a failure at some relatively new task, such as forging items from materials, to being able to use major magics. He was only capable of minor magics, and his overlord took note of this. His overlord in particular and wanted to see the potential of halfbreeds, fortunately the results of his capability were better in terms of utility and flexibility. This pleased the overlord throughout the years he had trained him to do basic skills in his garden.
In the gardens he had many plants to work with, wither it be in cooking, or alchemy, he learned just enough to get by. He did however enjoy cooking, this was something his overlord found amusing. "A halfbreed enjoying the arts of cooking?", it was funny for a while at how excited young Cassius was to learn how to make simple things like bread to small pastries, it was something even a bit heart warming to those around. When he cooked, he was considerate of the slaves, which raised many eyebrows on the estate.
When he was inside, he enjoyed solving little puzzles from contraptions made, to disarming minor traps. It was fun to him, and amusing to see what triggers devices to what also disables them.
When he was just seventeen, the Overlord of the estate left on a business trip to inquire about his next set of slaves, and to his dismay,the son of the lord watched over the estate in his absence. During this period, Cassius was sliced, bruised, and abused by the Young lord. Cassius had enough when he saw himself bleeding, to one of the maids being outright stabbed over trying to defend the teenager. Cassius put his skills and reflexes to the test, in which he killed the Lord's son, and left with several slaves. He even took one of the most expensive set of clothes for his new life, with a handful of gems, and a Saber that belonged to the house.
He fled Tevinter where he'd escape to Ferelden, a land of opportunity. There, he heard legends of the land, events that he was sheltered from. It was clear to him his life was far from simply starting. To make it in life, he want to look for job opportunities.
Personality: He is inquisitive, snide, caring, and ultimately tranquil in terms of mental state about most things, so he is passively neutral unless the situation directly effects him.
Motivation:To make the most of his new life and break away from his innocence to do something with his life rather then sit down and do nothing.
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En appuyant sur un bouton sur le bras de son harnais de combat Henrietta a étendu une longue sonde mince qui a tapé Cassius doucement sur l'épaule à plusieurs pieds. "On n'est pas censés l'être?" Elle demanda, sa voix s'enfuyant alors qu'elle descendait l'escalier de pierre dans l'obscurité en bas. Tandis que le mage retouché a été distrait, la sonde s'est rapidement fléchée et a arraché un doux du récipient dans la main de Cassius avant de se replier vers le nain plus vite que n'importe qui ne pouvait l'arrêter.
La naine a lentement mâché son prix en prenant son premier pas dans l'escalier, tenant sa foudre au-dessus de sa tête alors qu'elle regardait dans les ombres profondes. Elle ne l'admettait jamais à personne, mais en tant que naine de surface, Etta détestait être enfermée sous terre, et comme le vent froid soufflait de la bouche du tunnel, elle sentait un frisson qui courait dans sa colonne vertébrale. "Alors... qui veut y aller en premier?" Elle a demandé, sa voix remplie de joie forcée tandis que ses yeux dardaient entre les autres, désespérément pour l'un d'entre eux de se porter volontaire.
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Henrietta Harrowmont .
Madcap Mechanical MenaceBasic Information
Species: Dwarf
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Appearance:
Like most of her race Henrietta is shorter than most other races, but she still stands a good couple of inches taller than most of her own people. Heavily influenced by the technologies of both the Tevinter and the Qunari, Henrietta has built herself a 'battle-harness' which incorporates any number of weird and wonderful gadgets to help her keep safe in battle. Vitae
Specialisations: Artificer, Sabotage, Subterfuge
Notable Traits:A Gadget For Every Occasion: Whenever the opportunity presents itself Henrietta loves nothing more than to dismantle and rebuild her battle-harness, upgrading and improving its design with her latest madcap invention. She always seems to have some sort of gadget to lend a helping hand to a situation, even if they don't always work in exactly the way she had intended them to.
Mechanical Mastermind: Henrietta is a genius when it comes to mechanisms, machinery and motorised marvels of all kinds. There are very few devices which, with the proper instruments and time, she cannot discover the purpose, function and operation of.
Mind Over Matter: Fully aware of her physical shortcomings, Henrietta's battle-harness has built-in strength enhancing gauntlets designed to increase the power of her punches and enable to to fight back against anyone who might try to take her inventions away from her. While this only makes her as strong as an average warrior, it still packs enough of a punch to help Henrietta out of tight corners.
Duck and Cover: The only reason Henrietta has survived this long in her experimentations is her innate ability to know when something's just about to go dreadfully wrong, and having the speed and skill to make herself vanish just before someone asks the question "Who the hell blew up my forge?"
Flaws:Fade-less: As a dwarf, Henrietta has no connection with the Fade and cannot use magics in their normal manner. While she has a resistance to lyrium in all its usual forms, she can still be affected by red lyrium over long periods or in large enough quantities.
Loose Screw: While none can doubt her skills at forging and crafting components for her latest creations, Henrietta has a habit of missing out minor, but often key, components when constructing her devices. Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem, but the tenth time... DUCK!
"What Does This Button Do?": When faced with a mystery, especially a mechanical one, Henrietta just can't stop herself from giving it a poke. Sometimes this habit of practical experimentation leads to great rewards and breakthroughs in knowledge, but at other times it can lead her and her comrades into trouble.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: Henrietta is obsessed with the number three and often has to do minor actions, such as stirring her broth, washing her bowl and tightening screws, in multiples of three. While this has no immediately detrimental effect should she not be able to complete the action, it will bug her for the rest of the day, until she can finally complete the sequence.
Skills: Spike Trap, Elemental Mines, Caltrops, Hook and Tackle, Throwing Blades, Knockout Powder and Stealth
Backstory
Biography:
Born on the surface, in a clan of dwarves living in Nevarra, Henrietta soon showed an inquisitive and curious nature which was only fed by the love of her blacksmith father. Quickly learning the ways of the hammer and tongs, Henrietta set out to discover new ways to make metal work, developing skills in precision crafting and forging which enabled her to build smaller, more efficient mechanisms each day. When the Nevarran Military discovered the young girl's gift they immediately travelled to her small settlement to make her an offer she couldn't refuse, to turn her skills towards constructing war machines which would make Nevarra the envy of the world.
Asking for some time to think over their proposal Henrietta and her entire family swiftly scarpered, leaving their village behind them to seek out a safer, less intimidating place to set up shop. For several months the dwarves journeyed around the shores of the Waking Sea, passing through numerous countries on their way, the family eventually found themselves in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains with seemingly no way to pass.
Settling down the dwarves began doing what they do best, mining. As they cut their way into the side of the mountains, uncovering ores and minerals which could be used to craft their wares, the dwarves were surprised to come across red lyrium buried deep within the rocks. Not realising what this strange material was they happily began forging it into their armour, weapons and trinkets as an adornment to their creations. Soon after they found themselves under the gaze of the Inquisition, who demanded to know where the red lyrium had come from.
After revealing their mining endeavour the dwarves were quickly evacuated from the area, for their own safety. WHile the move was sudden the poor innocents were treated with the utmost respect and soon found themselves working their trade under the Inquisition's banner. CHurning out arms and armour each day held little interest for Henrietta though, so instead she set to work building herself the means to help the Inquisition more directly, and had soon created a working prototype of her battle-harness. When presenting the mechanisms to the Inquisition forces they were less than impressed, mainly due to Henrietta managing to accidentally demolish part of the kitchens in the process.
Seeing the potential in the young and eager dwarf, and not wanting her anywhere near them when her mad inventions finally managed to reduce the area around her to a smoking crater, the Inquisition forces made enquiries as to the need amongst their allies for a blacksmith-come-death machine, and Henrietta soon found herself in the company of the Company, brave mercenaries who treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy, from as far away as they could politely get.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Dreaming of nothing more than machinery, cogs and gears Henrietta seeks to learn everything she can about the physical sciences, and to be the first to build something spectacular. She doesn't know exactly what that something may be, but she is most definitely certain about the spectacular part.
Player’s long term goals:Henrietta can be an important part of any quest, her skill with mechanisms and devices extending to locks, traps and secret doorways just as much as to machinery and engines. I'd like her to have the opportunity to build steam-aged machines to help out the party, if she can work out the science behind them first.
Relations:Henrietta's family are currently sheltered by the Inquisition, working as blacksmiths and trader on their behalf.Although her family once had times with the Noble House of Harrowmont, as a Surface Dwarf Henrietta has no contact with Orzammar and only limited knowledge of dwarven beliefs and traditions.
While not Andrastian herself she holds a deep respect for their faith and accepts many of their customer and rituals as her own.Henrietta is currently wanted by the Nevarran Military, although as they only wish to recruit her they wouldn't want to take any overtly aggressive actions against her, least they drive her into the hands of their rivals.
Secrets:The power supply for Henrietta's battle-harness is a refined red lyrium reactor, which harnesses the power of the strange element in order to make her mechanisms function. The long-term effects of exposure to the material, even in its heavily shielded state, are currently unknown, and should the containment ever be breached the red lyrium could adversely affect everyone Henrietta comes into contact with.
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Ce serait ma petite fille. Je ne sais pas pour toi, mais je préférerais ne pas voir l'acte deux des chroniques de "tu baises pas". Paxton a dit avec un léger chanfrein alors qu'il marchait vers l'énorme porte en pierre. Il a pris une profonde respiration, appréciant l'odeur de l'air frais pendant un moment plus longtemps avant de commencer à descendre les escaliers. "Je t'ai déjà raconté toute l'histoire de la dernière fois que j'étais sur les routes profondes? J'ai dû passer environ cinq semaines ici à vivre de la viande de Deepstalker et quelle petite eau je pouvais trouver. Je me cachais de quelques Templiers assez persistants, les bûcherons m'ont suivi pendant des mois. Je dois dire que ce n'était pas si mal d'un séjour honnêtement, et bien les lits étaient un peu grumeux puis à nouveau ils ont été faits de rochers." La mage s'est évanouie d'un ton joyeux alors qu'il continuait à descendre les marches, devenant de plus en plus englouti dans l'obscurité des Deeproads. "A chaque fois que vous voulez apporter cette lumière de la vôtre serait tout simplement génial." Il a finalement rappelé.
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"Let the blade pass through the flesh, Let my blood touch the ground, Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice. -Andraste 7:12"
Paxton Arkwright
Bloodwrath
Basic Information
Species
Human/Abomination
Age
33
Gender
Male
Class
Mage/Warrior
Appearance
Paxton is a tall man, standing at 6'4 in height, with a muscular body build. His skin is slightly on the pale side and is peppered with scars from countless misadventures in his life, though there are a series of them that rack his arms that stand out among the rest. His hair is a dark, ash black and normally hangs down below his shoulders in a uncombed mess, though on occasion he has been known to tie it back into a loose ponytail. He has a slightly trimmed beard that covers the lower half of his face, left unattended for too long it will easily match that of a Dwarf's. His eyes are a bright amber color, on the verge of being yellow, and hold a certain sharpness to them.
Unlike traditional mages Paxton does not wear robes, instead he wears a set of leather armor. The armor is colored in a mixture of dark grey and black. He wears an amulet of Andraste under his armor almost at all times. Paxton has a large slightly tattered collared coat he normally wears over his armor. Another thing that separates Paxton from the usual mage is that he does not carry a staff at all.
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations
Knight-Enchanter, Blood Mage, Reaver
Notable Traits
Master Of The Game
Paxton had spent years mingling with members of the highest society as he served as one of the Divine's elite mage guards. As such he is more than use to surviving the cut throat politics that Orlesian call their Grand Game, in fact he was once quite the avid player. Paxton can exchange words as well as the most pampered and schooled nobles Thedas has to offer. He once prided himself on his skill to fool bards, who were supposedly the most skilled members of the game
Andrastian
Paxton is a devoted follower of the Chantry. He worships the Maker and his mortal bride Andraste. He has memorized most of the chant of light, which is no easy feat, and has even at one point sung through the whole chant, which took about three weeks to complete. He is known to throw a Chant line or two into conversation if it relates to the matter on hand, he has even been caught singing the Chant to merely pass the time. Though many may find it hypocritical for Paxton to call himself a follower of the Chantry given his choice of combat use, Paxton says what he does is a necessary evil that must be done.
Elf-Blooded
Though one may not guess it from merely looking upon him Paxton is actually indeed a half-Elf. His mother was a Elven maid and his father the inn keeper where his mother work. The two fell in love and the product of their romance was Paxton. Because of this Paxton has a soft spot for Elven kind and their plight, often times getting into bloody fights whenever he hears someone use the expression "knife-ear".
Cat Person
No offence to the Fereldans and their Mabari, but Paxton had always preferred felines over hounds. Paxton always respected the creatures' craftiness, not to mention found them quite adorable. Plus Paxton's dislike for dog slobber pushed him towards cats. You can only imagine what he thoughts when he came upon a group of bandits attacking what looked like a defenseless kitty. After a less than pleasant bout of bandit stomping Paxton went to treat the cat only to find out it was a red lion cub, apparently the bandits had killed her mother. Paxton did the only thing he thought was right and took in the cub, naming her Sasha. Ever since Paxton had been raising her, some say just as well as any other red lion parent could, and Sasha has grown into quite the deadly and beautiful creature.
Flaws
Battle Enthusiast
Master of the Game or not Paxton has no problem jumping into battle, he rather enjoys it in fact. If one's first attempt at talking fails Paxton would more than likely already be moving in for his first, maybe even last, attack on whoever they were trying to convince. He is basically the equivalent of a battle harden Qunari with the short temper of a drunken Dwarf.
Wanted By The Orlesian Chantry
Paxton's past has left him as a wanted man of the Orlesian Chantry, he has to be very weary any time he sets foot on Orlesian soil do to the great and wide power the Chantry holds there.
Wrath Within
Paxton is not alone in his own body or mind, he is in a sense an Abomination. For he harbors a demon of Wrath in side of himself. Unlike other mages who harbor a spirit of the Fade inside themselves and allow themselves to be over taken by it Paxton has tamed this beast to a extent. The demon serves as a resource of immense power and knowledge, but always posses a threat. If Paxton is not careful with his emotional state the demon can and has taken control of its host, at which point it brings Paxton's inner hatred and furry down upon anyone or thing near by, regardless of friend or foe.
Skills
Fade Cloak
Paxton shifts from a physical form to that of a cloud of blood mist. While in this form Paxton is invulnerable and can pass through enemies with out penalty. When he rematerializes he does so in a small crimson burst of blood that wounds and knock backs enemies.
Spirit Blade
Paxton's hands become surrounded by blood that form into monstrous claws that can cut as deep as any blade.
Blood Magic
Paxton uses the blood of his foes to fuel his power and continue his slaughtering sprees.
Ring Of Pain
Paxton claims his spot on the battle field and fights with the ferocity of a dragon, turning any foe foolish enough to come close into stains on the ground.
Devour
Paxton rips into his foes and uses their blood in order to heal his own wounds
Dragon-Rage
Paxton uses his dragon infused blood to strengthen the power of his claws. This power only increases with the damage Paxton endures.
Backstory
Biography
Paxton's life started like all mage lives do, he was stripped away from his family at the tender age of six and sent to the Circle of Magi, though to his fortune the Nevarran Circles have much more freedom when compared to the rest of Thedas when excluding the Tevinter Imperium.
He was quite the talented student when it came to his studies, accelerating ahead of his peers. He was even the youngest apprentice in the Nevarran Circle's history to go through the Harrowing, at only the age of fifteen. It wasn't long after his Harrowing that Paxton requested to be transferred to the Orlesian Circle of Magi, The White Spire, in the hopes to study the magic of the Knight-Enchanters. As a fully fledge mage his request was deemed acceptable and he was transferred to the White Spire.
The years after that Paxton did nothing but train in the arts of the Knight-Enchanter, which eventually not only did he become one but he was also requested to become one of the Elite Knight-Enchanter bodyguards of the Divine herself. Needless to say Paxton accepted.
Paxton spent years in service to the Divine, saving her life countless times from would be killers. He was held in high regard among the Chantry, they seeing him as what a mage should be, but all that changed once Paxton's secret came to light. It turned out for years that Paxton had not only been studying blood magic, but also practicing it actively, even going as for to drink the blood of a dragon and becoming a Reaver.
All this was revealed when an assassin got the better of him, managing to fire an arrow through Paxton's shoulder, and was about to cut down the Divine. Paxton did the only thing he could think of to save her, he used blood magic to force the assassin to run his blade across his own throat.
Though he saved her Paxton was labeled a Maleficar by the Chantry and was sentenced to become a Tranquil, though the Divine seemed remorseful about this verdict. He swore he never used the magic to manipulate anyone for his own personal gain, but no one cared about that fact and the matter was closed. The night before he was supposed to go through the Rite of Tranquility he managed to escape because someone left the door to his cell unlocked, something he questions to this day.
Paxton wandered for months, hiding from Templars and chantry members alike. Paxton had become so desperate for survival he eventually made a deal with a powerful demon of Wrath for power, allowing the demon to enter this world through his body. The demon attempted to over take Paxton's will, but underestimated the mage's power. The result was that the two were now bound together in a single body.
Though he now had a demon housed inside of him Paxton had become remarkably stronger. He used this strength to evade or scare off further pursues. Not long after Paxton found himself in league with a mercenary group. At first he aligned with them as they provided the perfect cover from Templars, but he eventually formed a bond and kinship with his brothers and sisters in arms.
The group, along with Paxton, at some point were hired by the reformed Inquisition as soldiers, which Paxton greatly approved of. With the Rift Crises averted and their job done Paxton and the group of mercenaries are now on the search for coin and new adventures.
Personality and/or Motivation
Paxton is a sharp fellow born with a quick wit and quicker tongue. He is just as likely to make a smart remark comment as he is to deck you in the face. He is quite hardy, loving a good laugh and drink. He is no stranger to manipulation, having been on both ends of it, and knows that you have to be carful around everyone as they more likely than not are waiting to stab you in the back. Though under his rugged exterior Paxton is quite the noble soul, holding strong in his moral code of protecting the little guy and destroying wrong doers. Though he does know in order to do good one may have to do actions that most may label as evil.
Player’s long term goals
Paxton had felt lost and broken ever sense his life was turned upside down the day his secret was brought to light. He has found solace in the kinship of his brothers and sisters in arms of the mercenary group. He now tries to ensures the safety and well being of each of his comrades, even if it means putting his own hide on the line.
Relations
Many of the bridges Paxton had built over the years were burned when his being a Blood Mage was reviled. Though he may be able to come upon a old friend, be they mage or Templar, from his days in the towers who wouldn't mind showing him kindness. His main connections and ties happen to be the other members of the mercenary group.
Secrets
Though the rest of the group is aware of his given situation with Wrath, Paxton tends to keep the fact that he communicates with Wrath on a nearly constant bases to himself. He does not want people to think he is indeed being influenced by the demon.
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Lian a suivi Paxton. "Paxton si tu racontes des histoires alors qu'on scrute ça, je te frapperai." Elle a dit qu'elle était ennuyée. Elle a soigneusement fait son chemin en descendant les escaliers aussi vite que sa jambe lui permettrait sans tomber. Elle repoussa ses cheveux derrière ses oreilles pour l'enlever de son visage et lui donner une vue claire de tout ce qui pourrait leur arriver. Elle ne se cachait pas s'ils étaient attaqués, elle se battait avec eux. Elle a gagné sa mauvaise jambe il y a treize ans et elle a appris à ce moment-là comment combattre efficacement même avec sa jambe comme un obstacle.
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Lian Wai
Lightning Slash
Basic Information
Species:
Elf
Age:
27
Gender:
Female
Class:
Rogue
Appearance:
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations:
Duelist/Tempest
Notable Traits:
Andrastian
Despite being raised in a Dalish clan, Lian is a avid believer of the Maker and his wife Andraste. Though she doesn't openly say she does she does remember bits and pieces of the Chant of Light.
Nature Resistant
Lian is resistant to nature attacks due to being raised out in nature and being a friend to nature.
Flaws:
Has a younger sister who last she knew was still back home in the Dalish camp she lived in.
Has a limp due to a old injury to her left leg.
Is very sensitive about people being rude towards elves.
Skills:
Rouge-
Twin Fangs
Spinning Blades
Dance of Death
Tempest-
Flask of Cold
Flask of Fire
Duelist-
Throw the Gaunlet
Vendetta
Backstory
Biography
Lian was born in Northern Ferelden in a Dalish camp. She spent the first two years of her life living happily with her mother and father when her little sister was born. Sadly their happy little family didn't last long when her mother died a few days later from unknown complications.
As Lian grew she worked her hardest to be the best Dalish Elf that she could be, taking it upon herself to care for her sister when her father was hunting and also learning about Dalish culture and history.
When she was ten her life was once again changed when her father disappeared while hunting one evening leaving Lian with her sister and the rest of the Dalish camp.
When Lian was ten she started to learn to hunt but had no real skill with a bow so she spent most of her time in camp. However when she was fourteen she was dared by one of her friends to go out and hunt a bear. That ended in disaster when Lian was attacked by the bear, she was lucky to escape with her life but in the process her left leg was badly injured and once healed left her with a permanent limp.
A year later, shortly after she turned fifteen she left the camp to travel on her own, armed only with her smarts and a pet Nug, she named him Snuffles, her sister gave him to her as a going away present. She traveled from Northern Ferelden towards the Hinterlands to find work and to also learn how to fight.
She was eventually taken under the wing of a rouge who taught her how to use two blades and taught her how to be a Duelist. Another man in the town she was staying in also taught her how to be a Tempest. Though the two men were murdered in front of her eyes, breaking her already shattered life apart again and ruining her innocence causing her to become twisted under her sweet and innocent exterior.
When she was twenty-four she left the town and traveled again, taking mercenary jobs to earn money. She eventually ended up joining with the Inquisition shortly after she turned twenty-six, after spending two years taking jobs. After the events of Inquisition was over she was twenty-seven. She decided to stick with the group and that's where the rest is explanatory.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Lian on a good day is very smart and sharp, easily catching mean remarks towards her or Elfish kind. She's also very quick to anger and isn't afraid to start a battle if thinks it's right. She's a little shy when you first meet her despite the fact she's been traveling for twelve years. She's also protective of her friends and her clan and is willing to give her life to save others. Underneath her innocent and calm exterior however is a very twisted girl, willing to use that innocent exterior to make her enemies trust her and the to destroy them with slashing blades and a fiery potion.
Player’s long term goals:
Lian's long term goals aren't much.
She wishes to return to her clan after a while and give any money she has made to them.
She wishes to see her little sister again.
Finally she also wishes to figure out what actually happened to her father when he never came back to camp,
Relations:
Lian has few relations despite traveling for many years. However, she does have good relations with her Dalish clan and people she's taken jobs from.
Secrets:
Lian keeps secret that she is terrified of bears, they're what caused her to earn her limp at the age of fourteen.
She keeps the fact that her father may be alive a secret, not knowing if it's true or not.
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"A chaque fois que vous voulez apporter cette lumière de la vôtre serait tout simplement génial."
"Paxton si tu racontes des histoires alors qu'on scrute ça, je te frapperai."
"Tu ne devrais pas lui faire des promesses comme ça, à moins que tu ne sois prêt à payer plus tard." Henrietta sourit alors qu'elle descendait les marches au-delà de Lian, donnant au perf une gifle ludique dans le processus.
Ne se souciant pas de regarder en arrière alors qu'elle riait joyeusement de sa petite blague 'Etta s'arrêta soudainement, sa voix s'abaissant à un sombre murmure au fur et à mesure que son esprit allait au travail. "une sorte de système de poulie, et un jeu de palettes... une roue d'eau? Nice et public, mais je ne suis pas sûr que les gardes seraient d'accord... »
Tout comme elle était sur le point de trébucher dans un pilier de pierre, le nain s'est arrêté mort, ses yeux traçant la maçonnerie lisse jusqu'à ce que sa tête soit inclinée en arrière, regardant au plafond dans l'admiration. "Wow... Je veux dire, Wow! Mes parents m'ont raconté des histoires, mais jusqu'à ce que vous voyiez quelque chose de vos propres yeux... » Si près de l'entrée, la pierre était allumée de la lumière mourante d'en haut, et la flamme verte d'Henrietta n'a rien fait de plus que de mettre en évidence les sculptures et les gravures disséminées à travers les murs.
Plus loin dans le tunnel est devenu noir de pas et regardant autour d'Henrietta a remarqué un brasier en métal noir fixé fermement dans le mur. Elle l'a examiné avec soin. Il n'était certainement pas dwarven dans le design, et il semblait y avoir un buzz étrange dans l'air autour. "Hé, je pense que j'ai besoin d'un mage par ici. C'est peut-être l'une des choses mentionnées par Martin."
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Henrietta Harrowmont .
Madcap Mechanical MenaceBasic Information
Species: Dwarf
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Appearance:
Like most of her race Henrietta is shorter than most other races, but she still stands a good couple of inches taller than most of her own people. Heavily influenced by the technologies of both the Tevinter and the Qunari, Henrietta has built herself a 'battle-harness' which incorporates any number of weird and wonderful gadgets to help her keep safe in battle. Vitae
Specialisations: Artificer, Sabotage, Subterfuge
Notable Traits:A Gadget For Every Occasion: Whenever the opportunity presents itself Henrietta loves nothing more than to dismantle and rebuild her battle-harness, upgrading and improving its design with her latest madcap invention. She always seems to have some sort of gadget to lend a helping hand to a situation, even if they don't always work in exactly the way she had intended them to.
Mechanical Mastermind: Henrietta is a genius when it comes to mechanisms, machinery and motorised marvels of all kinds. There are very few devices which, with the proper instruments and time, she cannot discover the purpose, function and operation of.
Mind Over Matter: Fully aware of her physical shortcomings, Henrietta's battle-harness has built-in strength enhancing gauntlets designed to increase the power of her punches and enable to to fight back against anyone who might try to take her inventions away from her. While this only makes her as strong as an average warrior, it still packs enough of a punch to help Henrietta out of tight corners.
Duck and Cover: The only reason Henrietta has survived this long in her experimentations is her innate ability to know when something's just about to go dreadfully wrong, and having the speed and skill to make herself vanish just before someone asks the question "Who the hell blew up my forge?"
Flaws:Fade-less: As a dwarf, Henrietta has no connection with the Fade and cannot use magics in their normal manner. While she has a resistance to lyrium in all its usual forms, she can still be affected by red lyrium over long periods or in large enough quantities.
Loose Screw: While none can doubt her skills at forging and crafting components for her latest creations, Henrietta has a habit of missing out minor, but often key, components when constructing her devices. Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem, but the tenth time... DUCK!
"What Does This Button Do?": When faced with a mystery, especially a mechanical one, Henrietta just can't stop herself from giving it a poke. Sometimes this habit of practical experimentation leads to great rewards and breakthroughs in knowledge, but at other times it can lead her and her comrades into trouble.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: Henrietta is obsessed with the number three and often has to do minor actions, such as stirring her broth, washing her bowl and tightening screws, in multiples of three. While this has no immediately detrimental effect should she not be able to complete the action, it will bug her for the rest of the day, until she can finally complete the sequence.
Skills: Spike Trap, Elemental Mines, Caltrops, Hook and Tackle, Throwing Blades, Knockout Powder and Stealth
Backstory
Biography:
Born on the surface, in a clan of dwarves living in Nevarra, Henrietta soon showed an inquisitive and curious nature which was only fed by the love of her blacksmith father. Quickly learning the ways of the hammer and tongs, Henrietta set out to discover new ways to make metal work, developing skills in precision crafting and forging which enabled her to build smaller, more efficient mechanisms each day. When the Nevarran Military discovered the young girl's gift they immediately travelled to her small settlement to make her an offer she couldn't refuse, to turn her skills towards constructing war machines which would make Nevarra the envy of the world.
Asking for some time to think over their proposal Henrietta and her entire family swiftly scarpered, leaving their village behind them to seek out a safer, less intimidating place to set up shop. For several months the dwarves journeyed around the shores of the Waking Sea, passing through numerous countries on their way, the family eventually found themselves in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains with seemingly no way to pass.
Settling down the dwarves began doing what they do best, mining. As they cut their way into the side of the mountains, uncovering ores and minerals which could be used to craft their wares, the dwarves were surprised to come across red lyrium buried deep within the rocks. Not realising what this strange material was they happily began forging it into their armour, weapons and trinkets as an adornment to their creations. Soon after they found themselves under the gaze of the Inquisition, who demanded to know where the red lyrium had come from.
After revealing their mining endeavour the dwarves were quickly evacuated from the area, for their own safety. WHile the move was sudden the poor innocents were treated with the utmost respect and soon found themselves working their trade under the Inquisition's banner. CHurning out arms and armour each day held little interest for Henrietta though, so instead she set to work building herself the means to help the Inquisition more directly, and had soon created a working prototype of her battle-harness. When presenting the mechanisms to the Inquisition forces they were less than impressed, mainly due to Henrietta managing to accidentally demolish part of the kitchens in the process.
Seeing the potential in the young and eager dwarf, and not wanting her anywhere near them when her mad inventions finally managed to reduce the area around her to a smoking crater, the Inquisition forces made enquiries as to the need amongst their allies for a blacksmith-come-death machine, and Henrietta soon found herself in the company of the Company, brave mercenaries who treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy, from as far away as they could politely get.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Dreaming of nothing more than machinery, cogs and gears Henrietta seeks to learn everything she can about the physical sciences, and to be the first to build something spectacular. She doesn't know exactly what that something may be, but she is most definitely certain about the spectacular part.
Player’s long term goals:Henrietta can be an important part of any quest, her skill with mechanisms and devices extending to locks, traps and secret doorways just as much as to machinery and engines. I'd like her to have the opportunity to build steam-aged machines to help out the party, if she can work out the science behind them first.
Relations:Henrietta's family are currently sheltered by the Inquisition, working as blacksmiths and trader on their behalf.Although her family once had times with the Noble House of Harrowmont, as a Surface Dwarf Henrietta has no contact with Orzammar and only limited knowledge of dwarven beliefs and traditions.
While not Andrastian herself she holds a deep respect for their faith and accepts many of their customer and rituals as her own.Henrietta is currently wanted by the Nevarran Military, although as they only wish to recruit her they wouldn't want to take any overtly aggressive actions against her, least they drive her into the hands of their rivals.
Secrets:The power supply for Henrietta's battle-harness is a refined red lyrium reactor, which harnesses the power of the strange element in order to make her mechanisms function. The long-term effects of exposure to the material, even in its heavily shielded state, are currently unknown, and should the containment ever be breached the red lyrium could adversely affect everyone Henrietta comes into contact with.
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Paxton a laissé tomber un peu la menace de Lian au sujet de son histoire. "Tu sais, tu me rappelles ce mage que j'utilise pour me coucher avec le dos dans le cercle. Le pauvre gars m'a toujours détesté en racontant des histoires, je suppose qu'il préférait le silence. L'histoire qu'il me détestait en disant le plus devait être celle de quand je l'ai attrapé en train de "sauter" avec un des Templiers. Il tournait l'ombre la plus intéressante du rouge quand j'ai abordé le sujet. » Le mage a dit en riant qu'il continuait à descendre les escaliers.
Il n'a pas pu s'empêcher de se branler devant les éraflures hyperactives du Nains, ses petites culottes ont toujours été très intéressantes. Il faisait son chemin plus loin dans les escaliers quand 'Etta a soudainement appelé à la nécessité d'un mage. En se dirigeant vers elle, il a repéré la contraption murale qu'elle observait. "Vous auriez raison à propos de cette fille, c'est une torche Veilfire, ou plutôt pourrait être une." Il a dit avant d'étendre sa main. Un instant plus tard, un éclair de feu vert étoilé englouti la main de Paxton, le brasier en réponse a déclenché une flamme de la même couleur. Paxton a pris la liberté d'attraper sa propre torche et de l'allumer avec le Veilfire. « Bon vieux Veilfire, me ramène à mes longues nuits de.. » Il s'est coupé après avoir compris dans quelle compagnie il était. "Les longues nuits d'études. Oui, c'est tout." Il a fini par un léger rire nerveux avant de continuer à descendre les marches. "Hop pour tous, nous avons un peu de danger à trouver et respectivement stomp dans le sol."
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"Let the blade pass through the flesh, Let my blood touch the ground, Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice. -Andraste 7:12"
Paxton Arkwright
Bloodwrath
Basic Information
Species
Human/Abomination
Age
33
Gender
Male
Class
Mage/Warrior
Appearance
Paxton is a tall man, standing at 6'4 in height, with a muscular body build. His skin is slightly on the pale side and is peppered with scars from countless misadventures in his life, though there are a series of them that rack his arms that stand out among the rest. His hair is a dark, ash black and normally hangs down below his shoulders in a uncombed mess, though on occasion he has been known to tie it back into a loose ponytail. He has a slightly trimmed beard that covers the lower half of his face, left unattended for too long it will easily match that of a Dwarf's. His eyes are a bright amber color, on the verge of being yellow, and hold a certain sharpness to them.
Unlike traditional mages Paxton does not wear robes, instead he wears a set of leather armor. The armor is colored in a mixture of dark grey and black. He wears an amulet of Andraste under his armor almost at all times. Paxton has a large slightly tattered collared coat he normally wears over his armor. Another thing that separates Paxton from the usual mage is that he does not carry a staff at all.
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations
Knight-Enchanter, Blood Mage, Reaver
Notable Traits
Master Of The Game
Paxton had spent years mingling with members of the highest society as he served as one of the Divine's elite mage guards. As such he is more than use to surviving the cut throat politics that Orlesian call their Grand Game, in fact he was once quite the avid player. Paxton can exchange words as well as the most pampered and schooled nobles Thedas has to offer. He once prided himself on his skill to fool bards, who were supposedly the most skilled members of the game
Andrastian
Paxton is a devoted follower of the Chantry. He worships the Maker and his mortal bride Andraste. He has memorized most of the chant of light, which is no easy feat, and has even at one point sung through the whole chant, which took about three weeks to complete. He is known to throw a Chant line or two into conversation if it relates to the matter on hand, he has even been caught singing the Chant to merely pass the time. Though many may find it hypocritical for Paxton to call himself a follower of the Chantry given his choice of combat use, Paxton says what he does is a necessary evil that must be done.
Elf-Blooded
Though one may not guess it from merely looking upon him Paxton is actually indeed a half-Elf. His mother was a Elven maid and his father the inn keeper where his mother work. The two fell in love and the product of their romance was Paxton. Because of this Paxton has a soft spot for Elven kind and their plight, often times getting into bloody fights whenever he hears someone use the expression "knife-ear".
Cat Person
No offence to the Fereldans and their Mabari, but Paxton had always preferred felines over hounds. Paxton always respected the creatures' craftiness, not to mention found them quite adorable. Plus Paxton's dislike for dog slobber pushed him towards cats. You can only imagine what he thoughts when he came upon a group of bandits attacking what looked like a defenseless kitty. After a less than pleasant bout of bandit stomping Paxton went to treat the cat only to find out it was a red lion cub, apparently the bandits had killed her mother. Paxton did the only thing he thought was right and took in the cub, naming her Sasha. Ever since Paxton had been raising her, some say just as well as any other red lion parent could, and Sasha has grown into quite the deadly and beautiful creature.
Flaws
Battle Enthusiast
Master of the Game or not Paxton has no problem jumping into battle, he rather enjoys it in fact. If one's first attempt at talking fails Paxton would more than likely already be moving in for his first, maybe even last, attack on whoever they were trying to convince. He is basically the equivalent of a battle harden Qunari with the short temper of a drunken Dwarf.
Wanted By The Orlesian Chantry
Paxton's past has left him as a wanted man of the Orlesian Chantry, he has to be very weary any time he sets foot on Orlesian soil do to the great and wide power the Chantry holds there.
Wrath Within
Paxton is not alone in his own body or mind, he is in a sense an Abomination. For he harbors a demon of Wrath in side of himself. Unlike other mages who harbor a spirit of the Fade inside themselves and allow themselves to be over taken by it Paxton has tamed this beast to a extent. The demon serves as a resource of immense power and knowledge, but always posses a threat. If Paxton is not careful with his emotional state the demon can and has taken control of its host, at which point it brings Paxton's inner hatred and furry down upon anyone or thing near by, regardless of friend or foe.
Skills
Fade Cloak
Paxton shifts from a physical form to that of a cloud of blood mist. While in this form Paxton is invulnerable and can pass through enemies with out penalty. When he rematerializes he does so in a small crimson burst of blood that wounds and knock backs enemies.
Spirit Blade
Paxton's hands become surrounded by blood that form into monstrous claws that can cut as deep as any blade.
Blood Magic
Paxton uses the blood of his foes to fuel his power and continue his slaughtering sprees.
Ring Of Pain
Paxton claims his spot on the battle field and fights with the ferocity of a dragon, turning any foe foolish enough to come close into stains on the ground.
Devour
Paxton rips into his foes and uses their blood in order to heal his own wounds
Dragon-Rage
Paxton uses his dragon infused blood to strengthen the power of his claws. This power only increases with the damage Paxton endures.
Backstory
Biography
Paxton's life started like all mage lives do, he was stripped away from his family at the tender age of six and sent to the Circle of Magi, though to his fortune the Nevarran Circles have much more freedom when compared to the rest of Thedas when excluding the Tevinter Imperium.
He was quite the talented student when it came to his studies, accelerating ahead of his peers. He was even the youngest apprentice in the Nevarran Circle's history to go through the Harrowing, at only the age of fifteen. It wasn't long after his Harrowing that Paxton requested to be transferred to the Orlesian Circle of Magi, The White Spire, in the hopes to study the magic of the Knight-Enchanters. As a fully fledge mage his request was deemed acceptable and he was transferred to the White Spire.
The years after that Paxton did nothing but train in the arts of the Knight-Enchanter, which eventually not only did he become one but he was also requested to become one of the Elite Knight-Enchanter bodyguards of the Divine herself. Needless to say Paxton accepted.
Paxton spent years in service to the Divine, saving her life countless times from would be killers. He was held in high regard among the Chantry, they seeing him as what a mage should be, but all that changed once Paxton's secret came to light. It turned out for years that Paxton had not only been studying blood magic, but also practicing it actively, even going as for to drink the blood of a dragon and becoming a Reaver.
All this was revealed when an assassin got the better of him, managing to fire an arrow through Paxton's shoulder, and was about to cut down the Divine. Paxton did the only thing he could think of to save her, he used blood magic to force the assassin to run his blade across his own throat.
Though he saved her Paxton was labeled a Maleficar by the Chantry and was sentenced to become a Tranquil, though the Divine seemed remorseful about this verdict. He swore he never used the magic to manipulate anyone for his own personal gain, but no one cared about that fact and the matter was closed. The night before he was supposed to go through the Rite of Tranquility he managed to escape because someone left the door to his cell unlocked, something he questions to this day.
Paxton wandered for months, hiding from Templars and chantry members alike. Paxton had become so desperate for survival he eventually made a deal with a powerful demon of Wrath for power, allowing the demon to enter this world through his body. The demon attempted to over take Paxton's will, but underestimated the mage's power. The result was that the two were now bound together in a single body.
Though he now had a demon housed inside of him Paxton had become remarkably stronger. He used this strength to evade or scare off further pursues. Not long after Paxton found himself in league with a mercenary group. At first he aligned with them as they provided the perfect cover from Templars, but he eventually formed a bond and kinship with his brothers and sisters in arms.
The group, along with Paxton, at some point were hired by the reformed Inquisition as soldiers, which Paxton greatly approved of. With the Rift Crises averted and their job done Paxton and the group of mercenaries are now on the search for coin and new adventures.
Personality and/or Motivation
Paxton is a sharp fellow born with a quick wit and quicker tongue. He is just as likely to make a smart remark comment as he is to deck you in the face. He is quite hardy, loving a good laugh and drink. He is no stranger to manipulation, having been on both ends of it, and knows that you have to be carful around everyone as they more likely than not are waiting to stab you in the back. Though under his rugged exterior Paxton is quite the noble soul, holding strong in his moral code of protecting the little guy and destroying wrong doers. Though he does know in order to do good one may have to do actions that most may label as evil.
Player’s long term goals
Paxton had felt lost and broken ever sense his life was turned upside down the day his secret was brought to light. He has found solace in the kinship of his brothers and sisters in arms of the mercenary group. He now tries to ensures the safety and well being of each of his comrades, even if it means putting his own hide on the line.
Relations
Many of the bridges Paxton had built over the years were burned when his being a Blood Mage was reviled. Though he may be able to come upon a old friend, be they mage or Templar, from his days in the towers who wouldn't mind showing him kindness. His main connections and ties happen to be the other members of the mercenary group.
Secrets
Though the rest of the group is aware of his given situation with Wrath, Paxton tends to keep the fact that he communicates with Wrath on a nearly constant bases to himself. He does not want people to think he is indeed being influenced by the demon.
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Alors que Paxton éclairait le brasier, on pouvait entendre un sifflement silencieux derrière le mur du tunnel, presque comme un tuyau de gaz qui jaillissait d'une fuite. Un moment plus tard, une deuxième lanterne de feu voilé qui descendait quelque part du tunnel a soudainement pris vie, suivie d'une troisième, et d'une quatrième. Bientôt, la chambre d'entrée était assombrie par la lueur verte des flammes éthérées, qui semblait jeter des ombres étranges et inexplicables sur les murs qui dansaient et capaient comme le regardait la fête.
Quelque part dans l'obscurité, une créature, perturbée par l'éclat soudain, pouvait être entendue se détacher du passage, ses griffes s'écoulant au-dessus des dalles de l'âge.
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Fredrick
The Dog of FereldanBasic Information
Species:Elf
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Class Warrior
Appearance:
Fredrick is missing his left arm, and has many, MANY scars. He has brown eyes and a very feminine appearance. He is muscular, and short. He stands at five feet.Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations: Berserker, Reaver, Spirit Warrior(used through anger)
Notable Traits:
First Trait: Despite not being a mage, Fredrick has an oddly powerful connection to the Fade. This makes him more of a beacon for demons and spirits than an average person, though no where near the same extent as a mage. Rage demons in particular are attracted to him, for obvious reasons.
Second Trait: Fredrick's left arm was destroyed by a high dragon before. He has thus adapted his two-handed fighting style to use only one arm, and is very, VERY strong in that arm.
Third Trait: Fredrick has learned to form a semi-corporeal arm using his reaver and spirit warrior skills. This arm cannot properly grasp anything, but its amorphic nature allows him to use it as a Swiss army weapon.
Fourth trait Fredrick is VERY pro-freedom, and is always rooting for the underdog. He is also very sensitive if racism, and will willingly stand up to anyone who he feels is being unjust, common sense be damned.
FlawsFirst Flaw: Fredrick is an ANGRY little bugger. He is more or less always bitching about something or someone, and during combat he has to constantly fight against his own anger for control. His rage is a double edged sword in a fight, as, though it powers all of his skills, it also makes him less rational(duh). He can be smart, but rarely will he consider the smart idea when he can just inspire pantshitting terror.
Second Flaw: Fredrick is VERY hard headed. When he gets an idea in his head, he will stand by it, logic be damned.
Third Flaw: Fredrick is really socially awkward. His foot has taken permanent residence in his mouth and will not leave. He has the amazing power to say the dumbest thing possible.
Fourth Flaw HE ONLY HAS ONE FUCKING ARM. IT IS SO HARD TO DO THINGS ONE HANDED. HE NEEDS HELP UNSCREWING JARS. HE HAS ONE ARM.
Seriously though, while his abilities can compensate, he is still missing an arm. Out of combat he has various issues, and in combat he has to rely on a constant assault to keep himself safe, as having only one god damn arm means he can't attack and defend at the same time.
Skills
Growing Fury: A combination of berserk, frenzy and spirit warrior skills. Fredrick's combat rage has multiple stages to it, depending on how wounded he is and his furious he is. His second arm is tied to his rage too, not manifesting until the second stage of his fury.
1st Stage, Berserk: Fredrick's usual combat stage. Frothing at the mouth berserk fury, with no magic added. Fredrick swings Dragonslayer one handed, ripping through his foes.
Notable Skills: Various "two-handed" techniques, notably the very quick and powerful sunder arms and sunder armor, as well as Destroyer. He has a weakened version of frightening appearance, which is less Reaver powers and more being a terrifying berserk elf. He can use Final Blow, which exhausts his remaining energy and leaves him vulnerable.
2nd Stage, Unholy Frenzy: Fredrick rarely reaches this state.Fredrick's strength is further enhanced as he is wounded, and he begins to inspire bladder-failing terror with his warcrys and viscious attacks. He revels in blood, and regenerates if exposed to enemy blood. He can use frightening appearance to its true potential, and actually takes advantage of his terrifying nature to make his foes too scared to fight back. He can actively use Devour in order to heal further. He also forms a limb out of blood and fire in order to attack his foes. He gains use of overwhelm and dread howl while in this state of rage.
Third Stage Rage Demon: Fredrick sinks partially into the fade, gaining potent defensive and offensive benefits. His attacks become significantly faster, and blood becomes gravitating toward him to heal him. His formed arm becomes even more versatile, and he learns to use Fade Burst and Blood Rage. He gains use of Frenzy, Peon's Plight and Massacre, and regenerates health more with each foe killed. This state actively drains him, however, and he has only successfully manifested it for five seconds before. When this form wears off, he is extremely vulnerable.
He also has a Mabari named Mangy. The old wardog is good at harrowing foes and leaving them open to further assault, and is particularly good at taking down mages by overwhelming and murdering them.
Backstory
Biography: Backstory
Biography: Fredrick's family was a slightly wealthy one within the Denerim alienage. They lived relatively decent lives, and were able to bring up their kids with a decent education. Fredrick has an almost idealic life for a while, with a protective, kindly older sister named Nora, a hard working and wise father, and a gentle and loving mother.
He was STILL angry, of course. Fredrick was always short tempered. His reaction to anything was yelling. He was an absolute NIGHTMARE of a child to raise. The only reason he didn't get beat up by the other kids for his constant raging was because of the aforementioned older sister.
That changed when his sister was taken by the Circle. A human had been hitting his elven servant, and Fredrick, smart kid that he is, decided that the best solution was to swing a stick at the man. Considering he was nine at the time, he was slightly unsuccessful, and the man tried to attack him too.
Before the man could lay a hand on him, however, Nora did...something. She had held both of her hands out, and the man stood still. After a moment, he fell to the ground, unconscious.
Though the servant said nothing of her tiny saviors, word still got around. It was a few weeks of stressed waiting, and then Fredrick saw some big armored humans come and take her away. His family later got news of her having been slain while attempting to escape the circle.
Fredrick started getting into fights. A lot of fights. His parents constantly tried to get him to be more careful, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Fredrick did some good, however. While at first he mostly just fought the other kids, as he grew up he started fighting thugs, bullies. He has actually helped a decent number of people in Denerim. He even helped out a mabari breeder in Amaranthine while visiting family by driving off some thugs that were trying to steal some pups. Fredrick got a pup of his own for his troubles, whom he named Mangy. Mangy helped protect him, especially during the events of Tevinter slavers and other unrest in the alienage. Mangy even saved his life when they were helping protect the alienage.
After the Blight ended, Fredrick decided to take up mercenary work to help fund the reparation of the alienage. He and Mangy set off and joined with a group of mercenaries for a time. They gained quite a reputation as doers of the impossible. They went all over Denerim, and later beyond its borders, doing great deeds. Fredrick's company was called the Dogs of Fereldan, so named for their Chasind leader, and because Mangy became their mascot. The leader took Fredrick under his wing, and taught him to harness his rage more efficiently.
Eventually, they ended up hunting a rogue apostate in Kirkwall.
They tracked the Maleficar to a house in town, fully prepared to confirm who she was and kill her. However, when Fredrick saw her, his heart stopped.
The maleficar was his sister. She told him of how she had escaped and been named dead before her Harrowing. How she had turned to blood magic and unlocked the dalish secrets of the Arcane Warrior, and how she had dedicated herself to finding greater and greater power. How she planned on helping to free the mages.
And that was how Fredrick's mercenary company ended up doing covert operations against the Templars. They mostly smuggled mages away from Tower confines, killing any Templar that came after them. It was dirty work, as most Templars were good people, but Fredrick was willing to do it for his sister, and his mercenary company stood by its own.
Eventually, however, Fredrick found evidence of his sister's doings that he couldn't ignore.
Kidnapped children, men, women, even a few grey wardens. So many innocent people, suspended in glass jars and studied, experimented on.
His sister rationalized it. Freedom, at any costs. She was tired of being a slave, tired of being branded a criminal when all she wanted was freedom. Fredrick felt uneasy, but he allowed it.
One day, his company for a job to collect regeants for the mages. It all went well, till they tried to get Drake scales. They ended up attracting the attention of the Female, a powerful high dragon. It slew most of them, and Fredrick ended up losing his right arm when it tore into him.
After that, his rage boiled over. The details are hazy. He remembers climbing atop the corpses of his friends, piled as they were, and leaping into its snout. He remembers the haze of blood, and the rise and fall of his axe. He remembers a final swing of his great axe, and then rolling over, passing out in a pool of mixed blood.
He awoke in one of his sister's glass jars. She told him that he had been gone for a few days before she found him, and that she had only managed to save him through powerful blood magic. She told him she had found him next to the mangled corpse of a high dragon. It was decapitated, one of its wings had been torn out, and its skull had multiple fractures.
After that, Fredrick's short temper was even worse. For a few days, he had to seal himself off, as EVERYTHING sent him into a mad, raging fury. He worried that he had become an abomination, and his sister refused to tell him one way or the other.
It took months for Fredrick to recover properly, learning to harness his rage as a tool once more. With his company destroyed, Fredrick and Mangy were the last Dogs of Fereldan. During the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick felt his rage boil over to a breaking point. He had been fighting a particularly skilled Templar, and had been losing. Every swing of his axe was deflected by the man's shield. His blows seemed to drain Fredrick in an odd way, sapping his strength. He only won that fight when he flew into a rage beyond what he had ever encountered before. Blood flew about him, another weapon to wield. He became an animalistic thing, attacking ferociously, smacking his armored foe about like a pebble. He tore into his foe's armor with an appendage made of blood, and tore out his heart with his teeth. He then turned on...everyone. Friends, allies, enemies, all were the same. When he finally came to, Fredrick was horrified at what he had done. What he had become.
After the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick's sister disappeared. He found her journal, left to him by her. She claimed not to want to be followed, that the war wasn't over.
She told him the truth of how he had been saved. That she had taken the blood of all the other surviving Dogs of Fereldan, and that of the dragon, and used them to change him. She hadn't healed his wounds. She had changed him so he could do it himself.
Fredrick sent Mangy home, and wandered about for a time, dissilusioned. He tossed himself into any fights he could find. His parents tried to contact him, but he avoided them. He was no longer their son. He was a monster. He wasn't even angry anymore. Just...tired.
At one point, he passed through Denerim. He had gone months without eating, and was basically a skeleton with axe and armor. He collapsed on the streets, dying.
He woke up in a comfortable bed, the smell of his mother's cooking wafting in. He felt Mangy lying next to him, and could hear his father talking about current events with his mom.
For a moment, he thought he had died. Mangy's stinky breath in his face told him otherwise.
His parents told him how Mangy had suddenly left, and came back dragging his armored form through the alienage.
Fredrick stayed for a while, doing work for the Guard. He stayed, and he healed. He learned of the stories that had been told about him back home, of how he'd become the hero that elves told their children about in Denerim. How the Dog of Fereldan was upheld by the Chasind as one of their legends. How Fereldan took pride in its Dogs, and in their final survivor.
Fredrick found a purpose again. His family knew that the truth was darker than the tales said. They didn't care. As much as he had worried and annoyed and irritated and ignored them, his family still loved him.
He eventually left again, Mangy at his side. He took mercenary work again, with all his loved ones in mind. He would make them proud.
And whether she wanted to be followed or not, he would find Nora, and bring her home.
Personality and/or Motivation: Fredrick is an angry, short tempered and surly individual with a strong moral code. He's far less violent than he used to be, and tries to avoid physical violence whenever he can.
He works out most of his frustration and temper through angry, sassy quips. Amd he never seems to stop talking.
He is EXTREMELY protective of his loved ones. Especially Mangy. You hurt his dog, you die.
Meanwhile, while he has some demons to face, he is actually happy about his life. He believes that there is good in the world, and he feels like it's worth fighting for. While he acts like a pessimist, he is VERY MUCH an optimist.
He loves to bake, secretly.
Player’s long term goals.
A chance to absolute berserk massacre a large group of enemies.
Mangy must piss on a lot of sacred artifacts to mark his territory
Get a chance to embarrass himself in front of an entire royal court.
Get ass kicked by a superior raging warrior.
Win in the rematch through NOT losing control.
Find his sister. Confront her over her actions, and work things out.
Avoid a huge massacre by being REALLY FUCKING SCARY.
Relations:
Fereldan Adoration: Fredrick is well-thought of by his home country, who have received watered down tales of his exploits.
Alienage: Especially Denerim's Alienage, who have received a LOT of money from him. They basically worship him there. Especially since the first act of his mercenary career was helping defend the alienage.
ApostateMages: Many mages, especially in Kirkwall, owe him their lives.
Chantry: For good reason, the Templars KINDA dislike him.
Secrets:
Fredrick keeps the darker side of his exploits under wraps. As far as anyone knows, he is just an angry, one armed hero. No one knows that the hunched beast that killed so many during kirkwall's final battle was him. Very few tales include the second stage of his fury, and no one knows about the third. The official story of him facing the dragon leaves out the part about him being healed with the lifeblood of his allies.
He also tries not to let anyone know that his missing sister is a known and dangerous maleficar.
Quotes:
"Nora, sis, I love you and cherish you, you know this, but WHAT THE SHRIEKING TIT NIPPLE KINGLY SHIT FUCK ARE ALL THOSE TRIPLE DARKSPAWN ORGY FUCKING PEOPLE DOING IN JARS!?"
"Fuck the rain! If I wanted water, I would have gone to a fucking well! Fucking Maker!"
"TEN SILVER!? FOR A FUCKING POULTICE?!? YOU SHITASSED MOTHERFUCKING SHITASS!"
"FUCK THOSE FUCKING FUCKERS!"
(To an arl) "FUCK YOUR COUCH, FUCK YOUR DOG CUZ MINE'S COOLER, FUCK YOUR MOM, YOUR DAD, YOUR UGLY ASS WIFE, YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY LINE, YOUR WHOLE ARLING, YOUR DUMB ASS SON AND SLUTTY ASS DAUGHTER, AND MOST OF ALL, FUCK YOU!"
"FUCK THAT!"
"FUCK!"
"SHIT!"
"SHIT FUCK!"
"For the love of the damned Maker. If another half assed fucking spider crawls out, I will shit out a rage snake and beat everyone in this cave ha fucking death with it!"
And, most commonly of all,
"Fuck you!"
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Peu de temps après que Cassius ait suivi le reste du groupe après avoir décidé d'être un peu rebelle, mais maintenant il a été composé.
La petite berline était agréable à écouter pour la plupart, et il a trouvé drôle combien d'un paxton paxton était considéré qu'il parlait d'une fille avec laquelle il a eu une nuit. C'était rafraîchissant d'entendre des histoires simples et courtes.
L'architecture de l'intérieur était assez brillante. Le feu de Veil était même épouvantable. Feu vert... il pensait à lui-même.
Peu de temps avant qu'il ne se retrouve en souriant. "J'ai peut-être une histoire humoristique ou deux sur mes expériences dans un marché."
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Name: Cassius Alexandros Svent.
Nickname: Cas.
Species: Half breed, Human and Elf.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Class: Rogue/ mage hybrid.
Appearance: Stands at 5'11 to 6ft, hour class frame, large feet, broad shoulders, scrawny arms. Cream colored skin, hazel green eyes, shoulder length dark chocolate brown hair. Somewhat of a straight nose, beak like. Wide hips, thick thighs.
As for clothes he mostly wears Blue and Black Velvet like garments that are light and easy to move in. Most of which have clashing patterns that overlap in an elegant yet messy way.
Specializations: Arcane Warrior, Spirit healer.
Notable Traits: He tends to be observant as well as quiet, has a lisp, tends to fold his arms, move his hands and body accordingly when he speaks, and usually stares blank faced.
Flaws: He has several minor scars on his face, to a dent in the middle of his forehead. His right fore arm has cut on it as well as the elbow. In terms of a personality flaw, he tends to take things too seriously at times, to just being snide and sarcastic. He also is tranquil in the sense of personality, but in truth he is very caring despite his sense of apathy.
Skills: Healing, regenerative spells, revival, because of being an arcane Warrior, he can fight with a sword effectively as well as utalize all Arcane Warrior skills. Fade step, telekinetic weapons as well as mindblast. Occasionally he will do a low blow to throwing dirt in one's eyes. Tier two Lockpicking and pickpoketing,Dispell and Evasion.
Outside of combat, he also knows a bit of alchemy. He can make minor tonics provided he has the materials.
Biography: He was born as a slave to a family in the Imperium as he was sold off by his parents. Rather then being treated as a slave, he was treated as an apprentice on the estate he lived in, but he still witnessed jarring things that made him not feel as safe, such as torture of other hand maids of the lord of the estate. At times it would either be beheadings, to severe branding by magic, to entropy to drive others to insanity, the screams always made him feel unsafe and gave him the mentality he could be next, that they could snap on him relatively quickly.
With fear being his drive to try to be proper and show no fear, he did whatever he was tasked, even if he was a failure at some relatively new task, such as forging items from materials, to being able to use major magics. He was only capable of minor magics, and his overlord took note of this. His overlord in particular and wanted to see the potential of halfbreeds, fortunately the results of his capability were better in terms of utility and flexibility. This pleased the overlord throughout the years he had trained him to do basic skills in his garden.
In the gardens he had many plants to work with, wither it be in cooking, or alchemy, he learned just enough to get by. He did however enjoy cooking, this was something his overlord found amusing. "A halfbreed enjoying the arts of cooking?", it was funny for a while at how excited young Cassius was to learn how to make simple things like bread to small pastries, it was something even a bit heart warming to those around. When he cooked, he was considerate of the slaves, which raised many eyebrows on the estate.
When he was inside, he enjoyed solving little puzzles from contraptions made, to disarming minor traps. It was fun to him, and amusing to see what triggers devices to what also disables them.
When he was just seventeen, the Overlord of the estate left on a business trip to inquire about his next set of slaves, and to his dismay,the son of the lord watched over the estate in his absence. During this period, Cassius was sliced, bruised, and abused by the Young lord. Cassius had enough when he saw himself bleeding, to one of the maids being outright stabbed over trying to defend the teenager. Cassius put his skills and reflexes to the test, in which he killed the Lord's son, and left with several slaves. He even took one of the most expensive set of clothes for his new life, with a handful of gems, and a Saber that belonged to the house.
He fled Tevinter where he'd escape to Ferelden, a land of opportunity. There, he heard legends of the land, events that he was sheltered from. It was clear to him his life was far from simply starting. To make it in life, he want to look for job opportunities.
Personality: He is inquisitive, snide, caring, and ultimately tranquil in terms of mental state about most things, so he is passively neutral unless the situation directly effects him.
Motivation:To make the most of his new life and break away from his innocence to do something with his life rather then sit down and do nothing.
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Eee! Elle a frappé Henrietta avec excitation en voyant les brasiers éclater dans la vie autour de la chambre. "Par le Créateur par le Créateur! Une vraie vie, un système de canalisation Veilfire qui fonctionne! » Elle continua, sa voix haute et presque l'oreille brisée comme il faisait écho autour des murs de pierre. "J'ai lu à propos de ce truc, mais je n'ai jamais rêvé que je n'aurais pas pu en voir un pour de vrai... eh bien, je ne rêve pas de toute façon, mais tu as compris."
Scintillant d'un mur à l'autre, zigzagnant à travers la pièce comme une sorte de boule en caoutchouc rebondissant de surface en surface, Henrietta a commencé à examiner les brassiers avec ses lunettes grossissantes, sa main tirant son tampon de croquis de son sac alors qu'elle a commencé à faire des notes rugueuses et gribouillées sur la métallurgie et la tuyauterie visible. Il était clair qu'il s'agissait d'un montage plus récent que la pierre d'origine, mais les couches de rouille et de grime montraient encore que le système d'éclairage magique était vieux de plusieurs siècles.
"... si on pouvait canaliser le feu dans une sorte de système d'éjection..." Elle murmurait à elle-même alors qu'elle mettait son croquis de côté et approchait de sa ceinture d'outils, tirant un grand jeu de plis et une clé encore plus grande. « Ne vous inquiétez pas, je ne serai que quelques minutes », a-t-elle rappelé au-dessus de son épaule, en gardant sa tête pour glisser une loupe plus forte en place alors qu'elle se penchait vers l'avant pour faire un examen plus détaillé et intrusif du chef-d'œuvre magique.
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Henrietta Harrowmont .
Madcap Mechanical MenaceBasic Information
Species: Dwarf
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Appearance:
Like most of her race Henrietta is shorter than most other races, but she still stands a good couple of inches taller than most of her own people. Heavily influenced by the technologies of both the Tevinter and the Qunari, Henrietta has built herself a 'battle-harness' which incorporates any number of weird and wonderful gadgets to help her keep safe in battle. Vitae
Specialisations: Artificer, Sabotage, Subterfuge
Notable Traits:A Gadget For Every Occasion: Whenever the opportunity presents itself Henrietta loves nothing more than to dismantle and rebuild her battle-harness, upgrading and improving its design with her latest madcap invention. She always seems to have some sort of gadget to lend a helping hand to a situation, even if they don't always work in exactly the way she had intended them to.
Mechanical Mastermind: Henrietta is a genius when it comes to mechanisms, machinery and motorised marvels of all kinds. There are very few devices which, with the proper instruments and time, she cannot discover the purpose, function and operation of.
Mind Over Matter: Fully aware of her physical shortcomings, Henrietta's battle-harness has built-in strength enhancing gauntlets designed to increase the power of her punches and enable to to fight back against anyone who might try to take her inventions away from her. While this only makes her as strong as an average warrior, it still packs enough of a punch to help Henrietta out of tight corners.
Duck and Cover: The only reason Henrietta has survived this long in her experimentations is her innate ability to know when something's just about to go dreadfully wrong, and having the speed and skill to make herself vanish just before someone asks the question "Who the hell blew up my forge?"
Flaws:Fade-less: As a dwarf, Henrietta has no connection with the Fade and cannot use magics in their normal manner. While she has a resistance to lyrium in all its usual forms, she can still be affected by red lyrium over long periods or in large enough quantities.
Loose Screw: While none can doubt her skills at forging and crafting components for her latest creations, Henrietta has a habit of missing out minor, but often key, components when constructing her devices. Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem, but the tenth time... DUCK!
"What Does This Button Do?": When faced with a mystery, especially a mechanical one, Henrietta just can't stop herself from giving it a poke. Sometimes this habit of practical experimentation leads to great rewards and breakthroughs in knowledge, but at other times it can lead her and her comrades into trouble.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: Henrietta is obsessed with the number three and often has to do minor actions, such as stirring her broth, washing her bowl and tightening screws, in multiples of three. While this has no immediately detrimental effect should she not be able to complete the action, it will bug her for the rest of the day, until she can finally complete the sequence.
Skills: Spike Trap, Elemental Mines, Caltrops, Hook and Tackle, Throwing Blades, Knockout Powder and Stealth
Backstory
Biography:
Born on the surface, in a clan of dwarves living in Nevarra, Henrietta soon showed an inquisitive and curious nature which was only fed by the love of her blacksmith father. Quickly learning the ways of the hammer and tongs, Henrietta set out to discover new ways to make metal work, developing skills in precision crafting and forging which enabled her to build smaller, more efficient mechanisms each day. When the Nevarran Military discovered the young girl's gift they immediately travelled to her small settlement to make her an offer she couldn't refuse, to turn her skills towards constructing war machines which would make Nevarra the envy of the world.
Asking for some time to think over their proposal Henrietta and her entire family swiftly scarpered, leaving their village behind them to seek out a safer, less intimidating place to set up shop. For several months the dwarves journeyed around the shores of the Waking Sea, passing through numerous countries on their way, the family eventually found themselves in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains with seemingly no way to pass.
Settling down the dwarves began doing what they do best, mining. As they cut their way into the side of the mountains, uncovering ores and minerals which could be used to craft their wares, the dwarves were surprised to come across red lyrium buried deep within the rocks. Not realising what this strange material was they happily began forging it into their armour, weapons and trinkets as an adornment to their creations. Soon after they found themselves under the gaze of the Inquisition, who demanded to know where the red lyrium had come from.
After revealing their mining endeavour the dwarves were quickly evacuated from the area, for their own safety. WHile the move was sudden the poor innocents were treated with the utmost respect and soon found themselves working their trade under the Inquisition's banner. CHurning out arms and armour each day held little interest for Henrietta though, so instead she set to work building herself the means to help the Inquisition more directly, and had soon created a working prototype of her battle-harness. When presenting the mechanisms to the Inquisition forces they were less than impressed, mainly due to Henrietta managing to accidentally demolish part of the kitchens in the process.
Seeing the potential in the young and eager dwarf, and not wanting her anywhere near them when her mad inventions finally managed to reduce the area around her to a smoking crater, the Inquisition forces made enquiries as to the need amongst their allies for a blacksmith-come-death machine, and Henrietta soon found herself in the company of the Company, brave mercenaries who treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy, from as far away as they could politely get.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Dreaming of nothing more than machinery, cogs and gears Henrietta seeks to learn everything she can about the physical sciences, and to be the first to build something spectacular. She doesn't know exactly what that something may be, but she is most definitely certain about the spectacular part.
Player’s long term goals:Henrietta can be an important part of any quest, her skill with mechanisms and devices extending to locks, traps and secret doorways just as much as to machinery and engines. I'd like her to have the opportunity to build steam-aged machines to help out the party, if she can work out the science behind them first.
Relations:Henrietta's family are currently sheltered by the Inquisition, working as blacksmiths and trader on their behalf.Although her family once had times with the Noble House of Harrowmont, as a Surface Dwarf Henrietta has no contact with Orzammar and only limited knowledge of dwarven beliefs and traditions.
While not Andrastian herself she holds a deep respect for their faith and accepts many of their customer and rituals as her own.Henrietta is currently wanted by the Nevarran Military, although as they only wish to recruit her they wouldn't want to take any overtly aggressive actions against her, least they drive her into the hands of their rivals.
Secrets:The power supply for Henrietta's battle-harness is a refined red lyrium reactor, which harnesses the power of the strange element in order to make her mechanisms function. The long-term effects of exposure to the material, even in its heavily shielded state, are currently unknown, and should the containment ever be breached the red lyrium could adversely affect everyone Henrietta comes into contact with.
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Ne se souciant pas particulièrement de la conversation à portée de main entre les trois stooges Gerald n'arrêtait pas de chercher quelque chose, n'importe quoi, qui pourrait sortir des buissons pour leur faire du mal. Quoi qu'il en soit, il s'est senti... mécontent. Les esprits l'avaient averti d'endroits comme celui-ci. Là où les choses sombres ont été posées et quand les choses ont été dénoncées par les esprits, il savait que les choses allaient forcément mal. Gerald a senti quelque chose de drôle... ou de dégueulasse selon votre point de vue. Il a senti l'odeur de la mort... un cadavre probablement un animal mort qui pourrit à proximité. Peut-être que des loups sont passés. Rien qu'il ne pouvait gérer. Mais il n'a rien dit pour l'instant au cas où quelque chose ne se passerait pas et il était juste anxieux.
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Name: Gerald Capet
Species: Human
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Class: Mage
Appearance:
Gerald has a thin but not frail build that reflects his time of study and shelter in the Kirkwall Circle of Magi. He has very little muscle having only gained such from his long walk back to Fereldan after the Kirkwall Incident. He has pasty white skin with very little color and dark grey eyes. His hair is blonde and is short cut but almost straw like in how it looks. He has a thin nose and is about the size of the average human male. He gives off a very nonthreatening presence due to his appearance however at will that can change as he can use his pure raw magical might to frighten most people with ease due to his training while visiting his family in Fereldan showing him how to project himself like a noble.
Curriculum Vitae:
Specializations:
Spirit Healer
Primal
Entropy
Creation
Notable Traits:
Extremely potent magi (he can cast powerful spells and he can cast a lot of smaller spells)
Very talented in elemental spells mainly the fire Branch
Very capable of learning quickly in regards to the magical arts
Can adapt well in the middle of a battle
Mentally strong (isn't easily seduced by spirits and people trying to break him).
Flaws:
Extremely poor stealth skills
Average to poor levels of physical strength
Untrained in physical weapons (bows, melee, weapons, shields, etc)
Lacks charisma and leadership capabilities (meaning he can't lead anything smaller than a handful of people)
Lacks armor training (meaning he doesn't move as well if in armor which piles on top of his already poor maneuverability)
Has rather poor flexibility (movement wise)
Skills:
Arcane Bolt
Arcane Shield
Staff Focus
Flame Blast
Flaming Weapons
Fireball
Winter Grasp
Lightning
Shock
Disorient
Glyph of Paralysis
Heal
Group Heal
Mind Blast
Biography:
Born in Kirkwall to the Noble House of Capet he was born to a family that needed an heir direly in Kirkwall. As first born he was to be heir to their house but there was a catch...he was born with an incredible magical power. His father Devon Capet was reluctant to give him up due to his own nightmares about his son's futures both in his sleep and in the political scene he kept this hidden from the Knight Commander. His mother agreed to go along with this and they chose to keep their son in their house with the family butler Alfred at all times except on rare occasions when they needed him to leave. His parents were extremely cautious with their young son and as such they had Alfred study spirits and other arcane things in order to help their son. Alfred comforted young Gerald as he grew up early in life with dreams of spirits of valor showing themselves to Gerald in his dreams as a young lad, and when he'd wake up in a panic at night through nightmares where pride demons tried to coax the young lad into letting them into him. Gerald came to view spirits as black and white and they were either good or evil as his father Devon told him.
As he grew older he began to show more tangible signs of power when he nearly burned the clothes off his father in one incident and froze his pencils by mistake. His family took a apostate into the household in order to teach young Gerald about his powers only for it to lead to an incident where in the market where he confused an older Templar by using his magic for being a jerk to Alfred. The Templars went to his father and demanded to him that they release Gerald into their custody. His father reluctantly accepted and he went to the circle of magi with the man who'd later allow him to escape Kirkwall Harris Mackley.
When he first entered the circle he was unsure and hesitant to talk to others but he soon gained many friends as he found peers who shared his powers. He also grew to hate elves as a certain group of mages taunted him for being a 'blue blooded craven' and taunted him constantly. As he started his new journey in the circle he passed his Harrowing after two years in the circle with minimal ease due to his past experience with spirits. His time in the circle was spent learning under Orsino's left hand Victor Stark, a human man born in the Free Marches who was sent to this circle due to the lack of teachers in Kirkwall.
Under Victor's strict tutoring Gerald learned how to use his affinity for fire magic to quickly become a formidable mage of note in Kirkwall. He also slowly grew to have a distaste for the Knight Commander who was clamping down on mages ever more over the years. He grew to respect a few of the people who held him captive and understand why they were there exactly as he lost a friend to a harrowing when he turned into an abomination despite Gerald's warnings to the contrary. Having lost his friend he vowed he'd do better to warn people about the dangers of spirits and demons himself and began to tutor younger mages to their relief. It was not until the Blight started however that his life would change drastically.
When people started to flood into Kirkwall the templars stationed there became more controlling over the mages causing some to chafe under their tightening collars and due to a surge in blood mages and apostates running around the island they became even more paranoid. Gerald on the other hand simply continued to teach the students who asked for help and those who were struggling with studies when he was informed that he had a new baby brother who was not a mage. He was mixed about this news and in the end chose to ignore it as it dealt about politics no longer of interest to him. He also ended up with a surge of new mages from Fereldan who were forced into his circle leading to more packed quarters and more people to deal with which stressed his mentor Victor. As the Qunari arrived things simply became that much worse as the templars and politicians grew more and more restless as with the surge in apostates, blood mages, Carta, and qunari deserters. Though he had few interactions with the Qunari he found them disgusting creatures as they served through the Qun which essentially made them all of one mind. No individuality among them and all of them served without question. Those who didn't became bandits who ravaged the coast. What good was being grouped together if there was no chance to diverge and evolve?
Gerald gave little trouble to the templars due to his own fears of them cracking down on mages became more and more true. The mages who feared the templars only drove them to tighten the noose around them and caused scuffles between them. Orsino sought out Victor's council more and more leaving Gerald to tend to his own duties. However he had increasingly been visited by various spirits in the fade while sleeping who taught him many things including how to heal others. Gerald took this knowledge in hand but refused to use it primarily because he didn't trust spirits after the harrowing and his own nightmares with demons and on the side because he didn't want to be strung up like some sort of abomination. As his fame in the circle grew he met with the Grey Wardens who considered him for recruitment but were denied by Victor's objections and Gerald's own polite rejections.
It was on the eve of the night when the poor quarter of Kirkwall was attacked by a mad elf the solidified the distrust between him and elves. Gerald already found them repulsive due to their pride and their insistence that the Dalish were better but now an elven mad woman had poisoned the whole part of a city. Anger welled up inside of him but thanks to his mentor he managed to calm himself down but he refused to take any more elven students. It was during the time that his dad managed to get approval by the viscount to visit his son in the circle. The two managed to get along well enough after a long time apart. He also met his younger brother Calvin for the first time. The two didn't interact much but Gerald was glad to have met him.
After some time the Qunari suddenly snapped and attacked the city. Gerald was off trying to find a lost mage when he was attacked practically out of the blue by the qunari. He used his superior magical talents to simply kill off the small group of them with ease. After this he fled back to the circle where he found a group of young mages injured outside of the circle and on the brink of being slaughtered by the qunari. Disgust welled up inside of him and he slew a few more of them before forcing the others to flee. Seeing his friends dying he had no choice as he reluctantly called upon the spirits he had met in the fade and used their power to heal the wounds of the group as best as he could. After that he and his friend Harris used forced the qunari attacking them to back off. Harris was ushered off to the circle with the youngest of the mages with them and Gerald finished off the rest using a combination of funneling them through an alley, and paralysis glyphs followed up with fire magic to kill the remaining mages. He found out later that his younger brother was accidentally killed in the incident.
Following the event he took no part in the mage-templar conspiracy despite requests to do so in Kirkwall viewing them as petty and only making the already horrific situation worse. He was sickened by the knight commander but understood her reasoning and he viewed Orsino as a fool by not making drastic measures to stop it from coming to the current state. It was on the night of the annulment of the circle of Kirkwall when he was to be transferred to another circle in Orlais. A sudden outbreak in fighting occurred after a massive explosion in the middle of the city. Unsure about what was happening Harris told Gerald to get back to the circle. However his gut instinct told him that whatever was going to happen in the city was not going to end well for him. Besides the fact that he was sick of this city and all that it entailed he fled the city leaving the city to burn in the moonlight as he sailed away. Instead of going to Orlais however he fled to his uncle in Fereldan's House Capet.
His uncle informed him of what happened in the city and while he didn't know Gerald he was a strong believer that family stuck together and took Gerald in. There he took refuge as a court adviser to his uncle in regards to magical affairs keeping his magical abilities secret to everyone before deciding that he was tired of court in itself and traveled the land in search of a purpose. It was when he saw and heard of the mages had rebelled that he decided that he needed to not only become stronger but found a place where mages could not be hassled by templars but still be controlled by their peers. He didn't join the Inquisition formally but he helped them on the side with slaying dark spawn and rebels. Figuring he had nothing to lose he went to Cumberland where he joined up with an odd mercenary group just recently hoping that the odd group would allow him to find a way to become stronger and keep him out of the sights of people who preyed on lone mages as he had gotten sick of all the butchery in recent history.
Player’s long term goals: Become an Archmage, Become a expert in elemental magic, become the head of a circle or found his own.
Relations: House Capet of Kirkwall and Fereldan, Templars (he still has a few friends from his time in Kirkwall being a model mage), The former Circle of Magi, The Former Circle of Kirkwall.
Secrets: Spirits are unusually interested in him due to his power and though he plays it off he actually is very much aware of how much they are aware of him. Demons are attracted to him as well and try to convert them into one of them in an attempt to make a very powerful demon. He is also the heir to the Kirkwall House Capet branch.
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Freddy a vu Cass partir.
Mangy aboia quelques fois, et Freddy roula les yeux.
"Frappe Mangy."
Mangy aboie à nouveau.
"Mangy ferme ta gueule! Il n'est pas mignon!"
Freddy soupira, avant d'ouvrir le contenant. Deux petits brownies. Fait maison. Freddy en a passé un à Mangy. Avec la plupart des chiens, vous avez dû être un peu prudent sur ce qu'ils ont mangé. Les Mabaris étaient ridiculement durables. Freddy ne ferait pas confiance au mabari pour se battre, disons, l'animal de compagnie de Paxton LION, mais il avait vu le chien se battre avec un Drake et gagner avant, et Mangy semblait adorer manger du chocolat juste pour faire flipper les non-Fereldans.
Mangy dévora le doux, et Freddy suivit tout seul. Immédiatement, il clignait, et souriait malgré lui.
"...ce putain de lèche-cul ferait mieux de survivre. J'ai besoin de connaître cette putain de recette."
Mangy aboie dans l'approbation.
Freddy a regardé Gerald. Peu connu, Freddy était bon pour lire les gens. Il avait l'habitude de mener des hommes à la bataille lui-même, et avait été un commandant sur le terrain pour l'Inquisition dans quelques combats. Malgré son tempérament, il était un chef étonnamment compétent. Surtout parce qu'il a remarqué les émotions des gens. Il pouvait dire quand une de ses troupes avait besoin d'encouragement ou d'un verre.
Il n'a donc eu aucune difficulté à remarquer que Gerald était nerveux.
"Ça va, Mage? Tu as l'air d'être sur le point de pisser ta putain de robe."
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Lian Wai
Lightning Slash
Basic Information
Species:
Elf
Age:
27
Gender:
Female
Class:
Rogue
Appearance:
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations:
Duelist/Tempest
Notable Traits:
Andrastian
Despite being raised in a Dalish clan, Lian is a avid believer of the Maker and his wife Andraste. Though she doesn't openly say she does she does remember bits and pieces of the Chant of Light.
Nature Resistant
Lian is resistant to nature attacks due to being raised out in nature and being a friend to nature.
Flaws:
Has a younger sister who last she knew was still back home in the Dalish camp she lived in.
Has a limp due to a old injury to her left leg.
Is very sensitive about people being rude towards elves.
Skills:
Rouge-
Twin Fangs
Spinning Blades
Dance of Death
Tempest-
Flask of Cold
Flask of Fire
Duelist-
Throw the Gaunlet
Vendetta
Backstory
Biography
Lian was born in Northern Ferelden in a Dalish camp. She spent the first two years of her life living happily with her mother and father when her little sister was born. Sadly their happy little family didn't last long when her mother died a few days later from unknown complications.
As Lian grew she worked her hardest to be the best Dalish Elf that she could be, taking it upon herself to care for her sister when her father was hunting and also learning about Dalish culture and history.
When she was ten her life was once again changed when her father disappeared while hunting one evening leaving Lian with her sister and the rest of the Dalish camp.
When Lian was ten she started to learn to hunt but had no real skill with a bow so she spent most of her time in camp. However when she was fourteen she was dared by one of her friends to go out and hunt a bear. That ended in disaster when Lian was attacked by the bear, she was lucky to escape with her life but in the process her left leg was badly injured and once healed left her with a permanent limp.
A year later, shortly after she turned fifteen she left the camp to travel on her own, armed only with her smarts and a pet Nug, she named him Snuffles, her sister gave him to her as a going away present. She traveled from Northern Ferelden towards the Hinterlands to find work and to also learn how to fight.
She was eventually taken under the wing of a rouge who taught her how to use two blades and taught her how to be a Duelist. Another man in the town she was staying in also taught her how to be a Tempest. Though the two men were murdered in front of her eyes, breaking her already shattered life apart again and ruining her innocence causing her to become twisted under her sweet and innocent exterior.
When she was twenty-four she left the town and traveled again, taking mercenary jobs to earn money. She eventually ended up joining with the Inquisition shortly after she turned twenty-six, after spending two years taking jobs. After the events of Inquisition was over she was twenty-seven. She decided to stick with the group and that's where the rest is explanatory.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Lian on a good day is very smart and sharp, easily catching mean remarks towards her or Elfish kind. She's also very quick to anger and isn't afraid to start a battle if thinks it's right. She's a little shy when you first meet her despite the fact she's been traveling for twelve years. She's also protective of her friends and her clan and is willing to give her life to save others. Underneath her innocent and calm exterior however is a very twisted girl, willing to use that innocent exterior to make her enemies trust her and the to destroy them with slashing blades and a fiery potion.
Player’s long term goals:
Lian's long term goals aren't much.
She wishes to return to her clan after a while and give any money she has made to them.
She wishes to see her little sister again.
Finally she also wishes to figure out what actually happened to her father when he never came back to camp,
Relations:
Lian has few relations despite traveling for many years. However, she does have good relations with her Dalish clan and people she's taken jobs from.
Secrets:
Lian keeps secret that she is terrified of bears, they're what caused her to earn her limp at the age of fourteen.
She keeps the fact that her father may be alive a secret, not knowing if it's true or not.
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Tandis que le bricoleur dwarven commençait à démonter le feu de voile coulant son tournevis glissa dans sa main, attrapant sur l'ancien tube métallique et le perçant à travers. La fuite d'Etta était juste à temps pour éviter de se mettre en flamme comme un jet de feu vert tiré à travers le tunnel, presque attraper Lian de derrière.
Soudain, devant eux dans l'obscurité, un paquet de bûcherons, cinq ou six en nombre, qui s'étaient soigneusement rapprochés des explorateurs sous le couvert des ombres, étaient éclairés par l'éclat vert vif, leur éclat sous l'illumination magique. Je siffle fort les bêtes sautent vers l'avant pour attaquer le parti avancé.
Pendant ce temps, à la surface, les loups s'approchaient du groupe d'humains, se faufilant soigneusement à travers le sous-bois alors qu'ils traquaient les gardes périphériques. Avec plus d'une douzaine dans leur paquet, les loups luttaient habituellement pour se nourrir du gibier éparse qu'ils pouvaient attraper sous les arbres anciens, mais aujourd'hui ils avaient été présentés avec un buffet entier de viande à choisir.
En fermant à quelques pieds du milicien absent, l'alpha prit un souffle de de4ep, goûtant le goût de la sueur de l'homme sur la brise avant de se diriger vers l'avant. En entendant le ronflement de l'air, le garde se retourna, levant son arbalète, mais il était trop tard. Comme les mâchoires du loup se fermaient autour de sa gorge, tout l'homme pouvait crier dans l'agonie honteuse.
En entendant le cri, Martin jeta sa pipe de côté, son épée et son bouclier à la main avant que le bol d'ivoire n'ait touché le sol. -- Toi, toi et toi, avec moi! Il a appelé, gesticulant à trois des membres du parti au hasard alors qu'il a rapidement fait son chemin dans la direction du cri, ne prenant même pas la peine de noter qui c'était elle avait demandé de le suivre.
Alors qu'il s'approchait de la ligne de broussailles, Martin ralentit son rythme, les yeux sillonnant les buissons alors qu'il tentait de percer leur couverture dense pour voir ce qui se passait. Tout comme il le fit, le loup sauta sur lui, donnant à peine le temps au guerrier de lever son bouclier et de battre la bête à l'écart pendant que la meute descendait sur la fête.
Aux armes! Aux armes!" Martin cria alors qu'il était renversé par la force de l'impact, trébuchant une seconde avant de se tourner vers la bête. Déplacer ses doigts Martin a serré son épée plus fort avant de l'enfoncer dur vers l'animal enragé, tandis que tout autour de lui la meute a commencé à déchirer la milice avec dent et griffe. Au dernier moment, la bête qu'il affrontait était mise de côté, et plutôt que de s'enfoncer dans le cou du loup alors qu'il avait prévu que Martin regardait sa lame couper une longue et peu profonde ensanglantée dans l'épaule du chien.
L'élan se transforma rapidement en un grondement en colère alors que la bête commença à s'élancer autour de Martin, essayant lentement de se diriger vers le flanc du soldat. Abaissant les yeux, Martin reconnut immédiatement ce que faisait le chasseur de meutes et se détourna, renversant son épée jusqu'à la hauteur, attrapant la deuxième bête à travers l'enchevêtrement alors qu'elle tentait de sauter à Martin hors du couvert forestier.
"Pour l'amour de Dieu, espèce d'imbéciles", a crié Martin, se rendant compte qu'il avait passé beaucoup trop de temps avec Fredrick au cours des derniers jours, "Fight, Maker vous maudit!"
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Fredrick
The Dog of FereldanBasic Information
Species:Elf
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Class Warrior
Appearance:
Fredrick is missing his left arm, and has many, MANY scars. He has brown eyes and a very feminine appearance. He is muscular, and short. He stands at five feet.Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations: Berserker, Reaver, Spirit Warrior(used through anger)
Notable Traits:
First Trait: Despite not being a mage, Fredrick has an oddly powerful connection to the Fade. This makes him more of a beacon for demons and spirits than an average person, though no where near the same extent as a mage. Rage demons in particular are attracted to him, for obvious reasons.
Second Trait: Fredrick's left arm was destroyed by a high dragon before. He has thus adapted his two-handed fighting style to use only one arm, and is very, VERY strong in that arm.
Third Trait: Fredrick has learned to form a semi-corporeal arm using his reaver and spirit warrior skills. This arm cannot properly grasp anything, but its amorphic nature allows him to use it as a Swiss army weapon.
Fourth trait Fredrick is VERY pro-freedom, and is always rooting for the underdog. He is also very sensitive if racism, and will willingly stand up to anyone who he feels is being unjust, common sense be damned.
FlawsFirst Flaw: Fredrick is an ANGRY little bugger. He is more or less always bitching about something or someone, and during combat he has to constantly fight against his own anger for control. His rage is a double edged sword in a fight, as, though it powers all of his skills, it also makes him less rational(duh). He can be smart, but rarely will he consider the smart idea when he can just inspire pantshitting terror.
Second Flaw: Fredrick is VERY hard headed. When he gets an idea in his head, he will stand by it, logic be damned.
Third Flaw: Fredrick is really socially awkward. His foot has taken permanent residence in his mouth and will not leave. He has the amazing power to say the dumbest thing possible.
Fourth Flaw HE ONLY HAS ONE FUCKING ARM. IT IS SO HARD TO DO THINGS ONE HANDED. HE NEEDS HELP UNSCREWING JARS. HE HAS ONE ARM.
Seriously though, while his abilities can compensate, he is still missing an arm. Out of combat he has various issues, and in combat he has to rely on a constant assault to keep himself safe, as having only one god damn arm means he can't attack and defend at the same time.
Skills
Growing Fury: A combination of berserk, frenzy and spirit warrior skills. Fredrick's combat rage has multiple stages to it, depending on how wounded he is and his furious he is. His second arm is tied to his rage too, not manifesting until the second stage of his fury.
1st Stage, Berserk: Fredrick's usual combat stage. Frothing at the mouth berserk fury, with no magic added. Fredrick swings Dragonslayer one handed, ripping through his foes.
Notable Skills: Various "two-handed" techniques, notably the very quick and powerful sunder arms and sunder armor, as well as Destroyer. He has a weakened version of frightening appearance, which is less Reaver powers and more being a terrifying berserk elf. He can use Final Blow, which exhausts his remaining energy and leaves him vulnerable.
2nd Stage, Unholy Frenzy: Fredrick rarely reaches this state.Fredrick's strength is further enhanced as he is wounded, and he begins to inspire bladder-failing terror with his warcrys and viscious attacks. He revels in blood, and regenerates if exposed to enemy blood. He can use frightening appearance to its true potential, and actually takes advantage of his terrifying nature to make his foes too scared to fight back. He can actively use Devour in order to heal further. He also forms a limb out of blood and fire in order to attack his foes. He gains use of overwhelm and dread howl while in this state of rage.
Third Stage Rage Demon: Fredrick sinks partially into the fade, gaining potent defensive and offensive benefits. His attacks become significantly faster, and blood becomes gravitating toward him to heal him. His formed arm becomes even more versatile, and he learns to use Fade Burst and Blood Rage. He gains use of Frenzy, Peon's Plight and Massacre, and regenerates health more with each foe killed. This state actively drains him, however, and he has only successfully manifested it for five seconds before. When this form wears off, he is extremely vulnerable.
He also has a Mabari named Mangy. The old wardog is good at harrowing foes and leaving them open to further assault, and is particularly good at taking down mages by overwhelming and murdering them.
Backstory
Biography: Backstory
Biography: Fredrick's family was a slightly wealthy one within the Denerim alienage. They lived relatively decent lives, and were able to bring up their kids with a decent education. Fredrick has an almost idealic life for a while, with a protective, kindly older sister named Nora, a hard working and wise father, and a gentle and loving mother.
He was STILL angry, of course. Fredrick was always short tempered. His reaction to anything was yelling. He was an absolute NIGHTMARE of a child to raise. The only reason he didn't get beat up by the other kids for his constant raging was because of the aforementioned older sister.
That changed when his sister was taken by the Circle. A human had been hitting his elven servant, and Fredrick, smart kid that he is, decided that the best solution was to swing a stick at the man. Considering he was nine at the time, he was slightly unsuccessful, and the man tried to attack him too.
Before the man could lay a hand on him, however, Nora did...something. She had held both of her hands out, and the man stood still. After a moment, he fell to the ground, unconscious.
Though the servant said nothing of her tiny saviors, word still got around. It was a few weeks of stressed waiting, and then Fredrick saw some big armored humans come and take her away. His family later got news of her having been slain while attempting to escape the circle.
Fredrick started getting into fights. A lot of fights. His parents constantly tried to get him to be more careful, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Fredrick did some good, however. While at first he mostly just fought the other kids, as he grew up he started fighting thugs, bullies. He has actually helped a decent number of people in Denerim. He even helped out a mabari breeder in Amaranthine while visiting family by driving off some thugs that were trying to steal some pups. Fredrick got a pup of his own for his troubles, whom he named Mangy. Mangy helped protect him, especially during the events of Tevinter slavers and other unrest in the alienage. Mangy even saved his life when they were helping protect the alienage.
After the Blight ended, Fredrick decided to take up mercenary work to help fund the reparation of the alienage. He and Mangy set off and joined with a group of mercenaries for a time. They gained quite a reputation as doers of the impossible. They went all over Denerim, and later beyond its borders, doing great deeds. Fredrick's company was called the Dogs of Fereldan, so named for their Chasind leader, and because Mangy became their mascot. The leader took Fredrick under his wing, and taught him to harness his rage more efficiently.
Eventually, they ended up hunting a rogue apostate in Kirkwall.
They tracked the Maleficar to a house in town, fully prepared to confirm who she was and kill her. However, when Fredrick saw her, his heart stopped.
The maleficar was his sister. She told him of how she had escaped and been named dead before her Harrowing. How she had turned to blood magic and unlocked the dalish secrets of the Arcane Warrior, and how she had dedicated herself to finding greater and greater power. How she planned on helping to free the mages.
And that was how Fredrick's mercenary company ended up doing covert operations against the Templars. They mostly smuggled mages away from Tower confines, killing any Templar that came after them. It was dirty work, as most Templars were good people, but Fredrick was willing to do it for his sister, and his mercenary company stood by its own.
Eventually, however, Fredrick found evidence of his sister's doings that he couldn't ignore.
Kidnapped children, men, women, even a few grey wardens. So many innocent people, suspended in glass jars and studied, experimented on.
His sister rationalized it. Freedom, at any costs. She was tired of being a slave, tired of being branded a criminal when all she wanted was freedom. Fredrick felt uneasy, but he allowed it.
One day, his company for a job to collect regeants for the mages. It all went well, till they tried to get Drake scales. They ended up attracting the attention of the Female, a powerful high dragon. It slew most of them, and Fredrick ended up losing his right arm when it tore into him.
After that, his rage boiled over. The details are hazy. He remembers climbing atop the corpses of his friends, piled as they were, and leaping into its snout. He remembers the haze of blood, and the rise and fall of his axe. He remembers a final swing of his great axe, and then rolling over, passing out in a pool of mixed blood.
He awoke in one of his sister's glass jars. She told him that he had been gone for a few days before she found him, and that she had only managed to save him through powerful blood magic. She told him she had found him next to the mangled corpse of a high dragon. It was decapitated, one of its wings had been torn out, and its skull had multiple fractures.
After that, Fredrick's short temper was even worse. For a few days, he had to seal himself off, as EVERYTHING sent him into a mad, raging fury. He worried that he had become an abomination, and his sister refused to tell him one way or the other.
It took months for Fredrick to recover properly, learning to harness his rage as a tool once more. With his company destroyed, Fredrick and Mangy were the last Dogs of Fereldan. During the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick felt his rage boil over to a breaking point. He had been fighting a particularly skilled Templar, and had been losing. Every swing of his axe was deflected by the man's shield. His blows seemed to drain Fredrick in an odd way, sapping his strength. He only won that fight when he flew into a rage beyond what he had ever encountered before. Blood flew about him, another weapon to wield. He became an animalistic thing, attacking ferociously, smacking his armored foe about like a pebble. He tore into his foe's armor with an appendage made of blood, and tore out his heart with his teeth. He then turned on...everyone. Friends, allies, enemies, all were the same. When he finally came to, Fredrick was horrified at what he had done. What he had become.
After the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick's sister disappeared. He found her journal, left to him by her. She claimed not to want to be followed, that the war wasn't over.
She told him the truth of how he had been saved. That she had taken the blood of all the other surviving Dogs of Fereldan, and that of the dragon, and used them to change him. She hadn't healed his wounds. She had changed him so he could do it himself.
Fredrick sent Mangy home, and wandered about for a time, dissilusioned. He tossed himself into any fights he could find. His parents tried to contact him, but he avoided them. He was no longer their son. He was a monster. He wasn't even angry anymore. Just...tired.
At one point, he passed through Denerim. He had gone months without eating, and was basically a skeleton with axe and armor. He collapsed on the streets, dying.
He woke up in a comfortable bed, the smell of his mother's cooking wafting in. He felt Mangy lying next to him, and could hear his father talking about current events with his mom.
For a moment, he thought he had died. Mangy's stinky breath in his face told him otherwise.
His parents told him how Mangy had suddenly left, and came back dragging his armored form through the alienage.
Fredrick stayed for a while, doing work for the Guard. He stayed, and he healed. He learned of the stories that had been told about him back home, of how he'd become the hero that elves told their children about in Denerim. How the Dog of Fereldan was upheld by the Chasind as one of their legends. How Fereldan took pride in its Dogs, and in their final survivor.
Fredrick found a purpose again. His family knew that the truth was darker than the tales said. They didn't care. As much as he had worried and annoyed and irritated and ignored them, his family still loved him.
He eventually left again, Mangy at his side. He took mercenary work again, with all his loved ones in mind. He would make them proud.
And whether she wanted to be followed or not, he would find Nora, and bring her home.
Personality and/or Motivation: Fredrick is an angry, short tempered and surly individual with a strong moral code. He's far less violent than he used to be, and tries to avoid physical violence whenever he can.
He works out most of his frustration and temper through angry, sassy quips. Amd he never seems to stop talking.
He is EXTREMELY protective of his loved ones. Especially Mangy. You hurt his dog, you die.
Meanwhile, while he has some demons to face, he is actually happy about his life. He believes that there is good in the world, and he feels like it's worth fighting for. While he acts like a pessimist, he is VERY MUCH an optimist.
He loves to bake, secretly.
Player’s long term goals.
A chance to absolute berserk massacre a large group of enemies.
Mangy must piss on a lot of sacred artifacts to mark his territory
Get a chance to embarrass himself in front of an entire royal court.
Get ass kicked by a superior raging warrior.
Win in the rematch through NOT losing control.
Find his sister. Confront her over her actions, and work things out.
Avoid a huge massacre by being REALLY FUCKING SCARY.
Relations:
Fereldan Adoration: Fredrick is well-thought of by his home country, who have received watered down tales of his exploits.
Alienage: Especially Denerim's Alienage, who have received a LOT of money from him. They basically worship him there. Especially since the first act of his mercenary career was helping defend the alienage.
ApostateMages: Many mages, especially in Kirkwall, owe him their lives.
Chantry: For good reason, the Templars KINDA dislike him.
Secrets:
Fredrick keeps the darker side of his exploits under wraps. As far as anyone knows, he is just an angry, one armed hero. No one knows that the hunched beast that killed so many during kirkwall's final battle was him. Very few tales include the second stage of his fury, and no one knows about the third. The official story of him facing the dragon leaves out the part about him being healed with the lifeblood of his allies.
He also tries not to let anyone know that his missing sister is a known and dangerous maleficar.
Quotes:
"Nora, sis, I love you and cherish you, you know this, but WHAT THE SHRIEKING TIT NIPPLE KINGLY SHIT FUCK ARE ALL THOSE TRIPLE DARKSPAWN ORGY FUCKING PEOPLE DOING IN JARS!?"
"Fuck the rain! If I wanted water, I would have gone to a fucking well! Fucking Maker!"
"TEN SILVER!? FOR A FUCKING POULTICE?!? YOU SHITASSED MOTHERFUCKING SHITASS!"
"FUCK THOSE FUCKING FUCKERS!"
(To an arl) "FUCK YOUR COUCH, FUCK YOUR DOG CUZ MINE'S COOLER, FUCK YOUR MOM, YOUR DAD, YOUR UGLY ASS WIFE, YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY LINE, YOUR WHOLE ARLING, YOUR DUMB ASS SON AND SLUTTY ASS DAUGHTER, AND MOST OF ALL, FUCK YOU!"
"FUCK THAT!"
"FUCK!"
"SHIT!"
"SHIT FUCK!"
"For the love of the damned Maker. If another half assed fucking spider crawls out, I will shit out a rage snake and beat everyone in this cave ha fucking death with it!"
And, most commonly of all,
"Fuck you!"
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Bats-toi, Maker t'a fait chier! Martin a crié. Les loups sont passés par bien plus d'une douzaine et ont donné à la milice une course pour leur argent alors qu'ils luttaient contre la bête agile. Certains loups féroces se livraient à des groupes de deux, utilisant la tactique naturelle de dépasser les proies plus grandes en nombre.
Karras a mis sa vue sur ces loups d'abord, diminuant les chances de perdre plus de gens plus rapidement. Il leva son arc avec la flèche qui s'enfonçait déjà et le laissa endolorir par les airs à la première de ses cibles. La flèche a frappé juste derrière l'omoplate du loup en creusant profondément dans sa chair et en freinant ses mouvements momentanément alors qu'elle se préparait à sauter sur l'homme-bouclier sans méfiance. Le sifflement douloureux du loup a été coupé peu de temps après qu'une autre flèche ait percé son cou et atterri avec un bourbier sans vie. Il en laissa tomber un autre sur qui avait frappé un guerrier de milice avec son visage au sol et son dos tourné vers les loups.
Agissant rapidement, Karras s'est jeté sur un genou et s'est accouché sur l'autre et s'est complètement replié sur l'arc. Une fois qu'il a senti la bonne tension sur la corde pendant qu'il la tirait en arrière, il a laissé la flèche pleine tiré aller, frapper un deux pour un frappé comme la puissance derrière la flèche montante percé à travers le crâne du premier loup et puis dans la cage thoracique de la seconde les frapper complètement hors du guerrier. Bien que dès qu'il l'a tiré Karras a été pris au dépourvu comme un loup plus petit plus agile manggé pour enterrer ce sont les griffes de la jambe arrière dans son dos comme il enterre qu'il est mâché dans son épaule gauche.
Karras laissa tomber son arc alors qu'il se serre les dents derrière son bandanna et grogne de la douleur. Il a pris une flèche lâche qui est tombée de son carquois de cuir avec sa droite et poignardé sur le côté gauche des loups. C'est la mâchoire détachée de son épaule pendant une seconde de la douleur, mais cela mène à sa chute alors qu'il s'en emparait sur ses jambes avant et tirait la bête de son épaule alors qu'elle atterrissait dur dans la terre de terre emballée. Avant que la créature n'ait une chance de se remettre de sa stupeur éblouie, Karras a saisi son arc et a ramené le point métallique sur son crâne en fin de vie.
"Filtre." Karras s'est effondré en se retournant à l'escarmouche en ignorant les blessures sur le dos et l'épaule.
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Karras
The Dark WandererBasic Information
Species - Human/Awakened Ghoul
Age - 26
Gender - Male
Class - Rogue(Archer)
Appearance -
Curriculum Vitae
Specializations - Shadow, Archery, Specialist
Notable Traits:
Humanlike - Karras indeed does have the dark blood coursing within his being, but somehow has retained his human like form rather then a malformed grotesque hurlock with warped skin and exposed blackened teeth. He has also the capability of speaking instead of mere grunts, growls, roars, or screams... though because of the taint within he mainly grunts in approval or disapproval due to his voice now sounding somewhat bestial.
Lock-Jaw - Karras keeps his mouth shut mainly due to the fact of his black tinted teeth standing out to that akin of rivaling a dragonling. Though that doesn't mean he keeps it shut twenty-four seven, on several accounts he's used them against those that desired to get up close and personal or had actually managed to corner him... the taste does linger for a while though, which disturbingly isn't quite half bad to him.
Deadman Walking - Given his appearance when first laided eyes upon, you'd think you've spotted a ghost, walking!? His once smooth brown skin has now become a ghastly pale coloration of white mixed in with a dull expression of gray.
Hawk's Eye - Though his eye may look void of life with the whites of his eyes tinted to near gray themselves and his pupils nearly completely crystal white, he still has sharp eye that spot can spot movements nearly two miles out without the need of any enhancement of glass.
Flaws:
Brood Mother's Calling - Karras isn't fully cut off from the link between himself and the darkspawn taint that now runs deep within him. He's still able to hear their thoughts of the hived spawn especially of the voice from the darkspawn Broodmother that had turned him in the first place.
Enemy Neutrality - Even with him being away from the main cluster of his corruption Karras has crossed paths with Darkspawn without having to attack, but there have also been a few times when the calling has ailed his mind black, then back to were he's standing over those that were combating his tainted brethren.
Flesh Craving - Darkspawn don't relatively need to rely on the constant need of sustaining food, but when they do they take entire throngs of live prey, reported mostly the male counterparts, and devour the red warm flesh raw and screaming. Karras hasn't necessarily done such acts, on purpose, other than to save his own life. Gurgut meat does have a limit though, once or twice people who were bad tended to have gone missing
Skills:
Full Draw
Long Shot
Speed
Lighting Speed
Pinpoint Precision
Strafing Shots
Backstory
Biography - Karras once had an actual life filled with lively hood, fellowship and living for the thrill of the hunt. Since nothing within Avvarian culture was truly permanet other than their lifetime of cultural tradiotions and oaths, his former clan, The Dragonmaw Clan, constanly moved throughout the lands of Fereldan. The Dragonmaw were the most known Avvar clan that were truly more open then other Avvarian clans.
Growing up in the life of staying for a few years then moving on to new lands seeking new trade and their forests fruitful with plenty of wild game to hunt letting the previous area were they hunted repopulate itself for a time until it was thriving with enough game again.
Karras was an excellent huntsman within his clan. Karras's skill with a bow was highly praised and reconsided amonng his Avvar kinsmen, even the thane claimed that he was a force to be reckoned with from a distance, but that didn't mean he wasn't useless in close combat either. From bringing down Gurguts to managing to survive an encounter of Giants in heat... Truly it isn't a pretty sight. Something not even lowlanders should witness...
Though during the transition of moving from the hinterlands, the thane decided that taking a path through the mountains to Orzammar rather then take the long route around them... that was the day the avvar of the DragonMaw Clan died... the day Karras was no longer himself, but something... darker.
It was a a full moon and pitch black as tar as the DragonMaw clan took refuge inside a rather large old dwarven cavern that appeared with one way out as it seemed safe enough for them to stay for the night and continue onward when they arose, but it was folly as they didn't suspect the the night-gangers, darkspawn, to burst through the cavern from beneath them. They came in with a reckoning force of sheer terror. Even as the bulk of the DragonMaw forces were slaughtered in their sleep or trying to defend themselves, the rest of the DragonMaw clan, Karras included with the remaining alive fought back with equal strength. As they fought within they sought to send the young and those that couldn't out of the cavern to safety, but their own way out was cut off by darkspawn Ogres... they had walked right on into a trap unknowningly. None were safe. Elders, men, woman, and even children weren't spared.
After he quick and brutal onslaught, the Karras and what remained of the DragonMaw stood only twenty strong, the thane not included, to a throng of night-gangers. They were all brought down quickly, with minimal resistance. Those few that were hanging by a thread were either tainted themselves turning them into Darkspawn monsters or dragged deep under the mountains, into the Deeps Roads to be feasted upon. Karras was one of the few that were turned into a blighted creature known as an ghoul.
At first he was part of the hive minded killers. Obeying and slaughtering those that stood against them just like any other hurlock. His mind was blank, no emotion, no compassion, no remorse for those that he killed, but slowly years after being tainted, corrupted with dark blood, Karras had manged to retain part of his on will and sanity. Pieces of memories, names, places came back to him over time.
He questioned himself on the matter of who he truly was and seeing that he was able to be self aware of what he was and of this were truly as they seemed. He managed to find a way out of a part of the Deep Roads near Orzammar, not without having to fight his way out first which wasn't easy task. He sustained near death injuries escaping from them, but he pressed on and on moving through places he didn't recognize, having to fight others wanting to kill him just for the spite of it. Then one day seeing that he was backed against the wall by grey men with horns, injured badly when another group came into the fray and saved him.
He found himself indebted to the group, the only group, of people that had saved him that very day and sought to repay them by joining them.
Personality and/or Motivation - Karras... he isn't much of a talker per say, mainly due to the fact that he wanted to avoid any suspicion, though he already stuck out like a sore thumb because of his appearance already. He also tends to stare... Alot, Karras sometimes doesn't even know why he does it, he just knows that he does.
Player’s long term goals - Karras wishes to regain the entirety of his memories to find out what happened to him in the past and be free of the taint the runs within him.
Relations - Other then going out on jobs with the main group, he still doesn't truly know everyone within the group, though he has received a lot of suspicion from others as well.
Secrets - Karras can still hear the calling of the hived darkspawn and sometimes willing or not, his mind gives in and he turns into a mindless killer out for blood. Only a few people within the group have seen what happens when his mind does give in thus why he remains secluded from mainly everyone.
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Alors que la flamme sautait, Henrietta inclina rapidement son corps de côté et se laissa aller loin de l'explosion. Ce n'était nulle part près de la première fois qu'elle avait essayé de la tuer, mais au moins cette fois, il n'y avait pas de venin qui coule des crocs. Bien qu'elle ait regardé à travers les flammes, elle a pris un aperçu très précis des crocs qui la supportaient.
"Eek! Des bêtes!" Elle a hurlé et paniqué elle a claqué sa main sur son panneau de commande de costume, lançant immédiatement ses caltrapes au-dessus du jet de flamme pour piéger les stalkers, les empêchant de s'échapper alors que le reste de sa fête se refermait sur les monstres. Une autre pression d'un bouton a envoyé un long câble avec un crochet pointu sur l'extrémité de la fusée à travers les flammes pour s'enterrer dans la peau de la bête dirigeante.
Se serrer soigneusement Henrietta a appuyé sur le bouton de rappel et le câble a rapidement commencé à se rétracter, tirant la gouttière vers la goute de la flamme verte alors que ses griffes s'écoulaient sur les drapeaux usés sous elle. Avec un sourire joyeux sur ses lèvres, Henrietta regarda la bête s'enfoncer dans le feu du voile, sa peau éclatant et craquelante alors qu'elle combattait contre la ligne d'hameçon, mais l'arme était trop profondément enterrée dans la chair de la créature pour la laisser s'échapper, et après une seconde elle arrêta complètement de bouger.
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Henrietta Harrowmont .
Madcap Mechanical MenaceBasic Information
Species: Dwarf
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Appearance:
Like most of her race Henrietta is shorter than most other races, but she still stands a good couple of inches taller than most of her own people. Heavily influenced by the technologies of both the Tevinter and the Qunari, Henrietta has built herself a 'battle-harness' which incorporates any number of weird and wonderful gadgets to help her keep safe in battle. Vitae
Specialisations: Artificer, Sabotage, Subterfuge
Notable Traits:A Gadget For Every Occasion: Whenever the opportunity presents itself Henrietta loves nothing more than to dismantle and rebuild her battle-harness, upgrading and improving its design with her latest madcap invention. She always seems to have some sort of gadget to lend a helping hand to a situation, even if they don't always work in exactly the way she had intended them to.
Mechanical Mastermind: Henrietta is a genius when it comes to mechanisms, machinery and motorised marvels of all kinds. There are very few devices which, with the proper instruments and time, she cannot discover the purpose, function and operation of.
Mind Over Matter: Fully aware of her physical shortcomings, Henrietta's battle-harness has built-in strength enhancing gauntlets designed to increase the power of her punches and enable to to fight back against anyone who might try to take her inventions away from her. While this only makes her as strong as an average warrior, it still packs enough of a punch to help Henrietta out of tight corners.
Duck and Cover: The only reason Henrietta has survived this long in her experimentations is her innate ability to know when something's just about to go dreadfully wrong, and having the speed and skill to make herself vanish just before someone asks the question "Who the hell blew up my forge?"
Flaws:Fade-less: As a dwarf, Henrietta has no connection with the Fade and cannot use magics in their normal manner. While she has a resistance to lyrium in all its usual forms, she can still be affected by red lyrium over long periods or in large enough quantities.
Loose Screw: While none can doubt her skills at forging and crafting components for her latest creations, Henrietta has a habit of missing out minor, but often key, components when constructing her devices. Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem, but the tenth time... DUCK!
"What Does This Button Do?": When faced with a mystery, especially a mechanical one, Henrietta just can't stop herself from giving it a poke. Sometimes this habit of practical experimentation leads to great rewards and breakthroughs in knowledge, but at other times it can lead her and her comrades into trouble.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: Henrietta is obsessed with the number three and often has to do minor actions, such as stirring her broth, washing her bowl and tightening screws, in multiples of three. While this has no immediately detrimental effect should she not be able to complete the action, it will bug her for the rest of the day, until she can finally complete the sequence.
Skills: Spike Trap, Elemental Mines, Caltrops, Hook and Tackle, Throwing Blades, Knockout Powder and Stealth
Backstory
Biography:
Born on the surface, in a clan of dwarves living in Nevarra, Henrietta soon showed an inquisitive and curious nature which was only fed by the love of her blacksmith father. Quickly learning the ways of the hammer and tongs, Henrietta set out to discover new ways to make metal work, developing skills in precision crafting and forging which enabled her to build smaller, more efficient mechanisms each day. When the Nevarran Military discovered the young girl's gift they immediately travelled to her small settlement to make her an offer she couldn't refuse, to turn her skills towards constructing war machines which would make Nevarra the envy of the world.
Asking for some time to think over their proposal Henrietta and her entire family swiftly scarpered, leaving their village behind them to seek out a safer, less intimidating place to set up shop. For several months the dwarves journeyed around the shores of the Waking Sea, passing through numerous countries on their way, the family eventually found themselves in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains with seemingly no way to pass.
Settling down the dwarves began doing what they do best, mining. As they cut their way into the side of the mountains, uncovering ores and minerals which could be used to craft their wares, the dwarves were surprised to come across red lyrium buried deep within the rocks. Not realising what this strange material was they happily began forging it into their armour, weapons and trinkets as an adornment to their creations. Soon after they found themselves under the gaze of the Inquisition, who demanded to know where the red lyrium had come from.
After revealing their mining endeavour the dwarves were quickly evacuated from the area, for their own safety. WHile the move was sudden the poor innocents were treated with the utmost respect and soon found themselves working their trade under the Inquisition's banner. CHurning out arms and armour each day held little interest for Henrietta though, so instead she set to work building herself the means to help the Inquisition more directly, and had soon created a working prototype of her battle-harness. When presenting the mechanisms to the Inquisition forces they were less than impressed, mainly due to Henrietta managing to accidentally demolish part of the kitchens in the process.
Seeing the potential in the young and eager dwarf, and not wanting her anywhere near them when her mad inventions finally managed to reduce the area around her to a smoking crater, the Inquisition forces made enquiries as to the need amongst their allies for a blacksmith-come-death machine, and Henrietta soon found herself in the company of the Company, brave mercenaries who treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy, from as far away as they could politely get.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Dreaming of nothing more than machinery, cogs and gears Henrietta seeks to learn everything she can about the physical sciences, and to be the first to build something spectacular. She doesn't know exactly what that something may be, but she is most definitely certain about the spectacular part.
Player’s long term goals:Henrietta can be an important part of any quest, her skill with mechanisms and devices extending to locks, traps and secret doorways just as much as to machinery and engines. I'd like her to have the opportunity to build steam-aged machines to help out the party, if she can work out the science behind them first.
Relations:Henrietta's family are currently sheltered by the Inquisition, working as blacksmiths and trader on their behalf.Although her family once had times with the Noble House of Harrowmont, as a Surface Dwarf Henrietta has no contact with Orzammar and only limited knowledge of dwarven beliefs and traditions.
While not Andrastian herself she holds a deep respect for their faith and accepts many of their customer and rituals as her own.Henrietta is currently wanted by the Nevarran Military, although as they only wish to recruit her they wouldn't want to take any overtly aggressive actions against her, least they drive her into the hands of their rivals.
Secrets:The power supply for Henrietta's battle-harness is a refined red lyrium reactor, which harnesses the power of the strange element in order to make her mechanisms function. The long-term effects of exposure to the material, even in its heavily shielded state, are currently unknown, and should the containment ever be breached the red lyrium could adversely affect everyone Henrietta comes into contact with.
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Lian est revenue aussi vite que sa jambe l'a laissée. Alors qu'elle la déplaçait, elle dessinait ses deux lames. "Faire nous aider." Elle murmura alors que ses cheveux tombaient dans son visage pendant qu'elle étudiait les créatures un moment avant de se déplacer à l'un d'eux. Elle s'en est pris à elle, essayant de l'abattre et espérant que rien d'autre n'essaie de l'attaquer.
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Lian Wai
Lightning Slash
Basic Information
Species:
Elf
Age:
27
Gender:
Female
Class:
Rogue
Appearance:
Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations:
Duelist/Tempest
Notable Traits:
Andrastian
Despite being raised in a Dalish clan, Lian is a avid believer of the Maker and his wife Andraste. Though she doesn't openly say she does she does remember bits and pieces of the Chant of Light.
Nature Resistant
Lian is resistant to nature attacks due to being raised out in nature and being a friend to nature.
Flaws:
Has a younger sister who last she knew was still back home in the Dalish camp she lived in.
Has a limp due to a old injury to her left leg.
Is very sensitive about people being rude towards elves.
Skills:
Rouge-
Twin Fangs
Spinning Blades
Dance of Death
Tempest-
Flask of Cold
Flask of Fire
Duelist-
Throw the Gaunlet
Vendetta
Backstory
Biography
Lian was born in Northern Ferelden in a Dalish camp. She spent the first two years of her life living happily with her mother and father when her little sister was born. Sadly their happy little family didn't last long when her mother died a few days later from unknown complications.
As Lian grew she worked her hardest to be the best Dalish Elf that she could be, taking it upon herself to care for her sister when her father was hunting and also learning about Dalish culture and history.
When she was ten her life was once again changed when her father disappeared while hunting one evening leaving Lian with her sister and the rest of the Dalish camp.
When Lian was ten she started to learn to hunt but had no real skill with a bow so she spent most of her time in camp. However when she was fourteen she was dared by one of her friends to go out and hunt a bear. That ended in disaster when Lian was attacked by the bear, she was lucky to escape with her life but in the process her left leg was badly injured and once healed left her with a permanent limp.
A year later, shortly after she turned fifteen she left the camp to travel on her own, armed only with her smarts and a pet Nug, she named him Snuffles, her sister gave him to her as a going away present. She traveled from Northern Ferelden towards the Hinterlands to find work and to also learn how to fight.
She was eventually taken under the wing of a rouge who taught her how to use two blades and taught her how to be a Duelist. Another man in the town she was staying in also taught her how to be a Tempest. Though the two men were murdered in front of her eyes, breaking her already shattered life apart again and ruining her innocence causing her to become twisted under her sweet and innocent exterior.
When she was twenty-four she left the town and traveled again, taking mercenary jobs to earn money. She eventually ended up joining with the Inquisition shortly after she turned twenty-six, after spending two years taking jobs. After the events of Inquisition was over she was twenty-seven. She decided to stick with the group and that's where the rest is explanatory.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Lian on a good day is very smart and sharp, easily catching mean remarks towards her or Elfish kind. She's also very quick to anger and isn't afraid to start a battle if thinks it's right. She's a little shy when you first meet her despite the fact she's been traveling for twelve years. She's also protective of her friends and her clan and is willing to give her life to save others. Underneath her innocent and calm exterior however is a very twisted girl, willing to use that innocent exterior to make her enemies trust her and the to destroy them with slashing blades and a fiery potion.
Player’s long term goals:
Lian's long term goals aren't much.
She wishes to return to her clan after a while and give any money she has made to them.
She wishes to see her little sister again.
Finally she also wishes to figure out what actually happened to her father when he never came back to camp,
Relations:
Lian has few relations despite traveling for many years. However, she does have good relations with her Dalish clan and people she's taken jobs from.
Secrets:
Lian keeps secret that she is terrified of bears, they're what caused her to earn her limp at the age of fourteen.
She keeps the fact that her father may be alive a secret, not knowing if it's true or not.
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Comme il a cloué l'une des bêtes au sol, Martin a réussi à jeter un bon coup d'œil dans ses yeux et a vu la rougeur tourbillonnante le regarder en arrière. ""Blood Magic!" Il a appelé, avertissant le reste de la fête. "Il y a un mage de sang à proximité qui contrôle ces choses. Peut-être plus d'un! »
Levant sa lame haute Martin a fait descendre le pommel dur sur le côté de la tête du loup, frappant l'animal impuissant inconscient. Il aurait pu le tuer facilement, mais d'une certaine façon l'idée de tuer le chasseur innocent juste pour avoir été assez malchanceux pour être utilisé comme marionnette de quelqu'un fait même le guerrier endurci de bataille mal à l'aise. "Essayez de contenir les bêtes du mieux que vous pouvez, ne leur faites pas de mal à moins que vous n'ayez à le faire," Il cria à la milice, dont la plupart avaient réussi à ne pas se faire tuer par la charge des loups, "Le reste d'entre vous allez dans la forêt et essayer de trouver le maléficar."
Revenir à la fête Martin a fait un geste pour que les mages se rapprochent. "J'ai besoin que vous vous concentriez tous sur la localisation du mage sanguin, par tous les moyens nécessaires. S'ils sont juste des raideurs alors c'est quelque chose que nous pouvons gérer, mais si c'est une sorte d'attaque dirigée essayant de nous frapper spécifiquement, alors nous devons savoir qui est après nous. Cela signifie que je veux au moins l'un d'eux toujours en vie quand vous en avez fini avec eux, ou du moins dans un état où nous pouvons les questionner."
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Fredrick
The Dog of FereldanBasic Information
Species:Elf
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Class Warrior
Appearance:
Fredrick is missing his left arm, and has many, MANY scars. He has brown eyes and a very feminine appearance. He is muscular, and short. He stands at five feet.Curriculum Vitae
Specialisations: Berserker, Reaver, Spirit Warrior(used through anger)
Notable Traits:
First Trait: Despite not being a mage, Fredrick has an oddly powerful connection to the Fade. This makes him more of a beacon for demons and spirits than an average person, though no where near the same extent as a mage. Rage demons in particular are attracted to him, for obvious reasons.
Second Trait: Fredrick's left arm was destroyed by a high dragon before. He has thus adapted his two-handed fighting style to use only one arm, and is very, VERY strong in that arm.
Third Trait: Fredrick has learned to form a semi-corporeal arm using his reaver and spirit warrior skills. This arm cannot properly grasp anything, but its amorphic nature allows him to use it as a Swiss army weapon.
Fourth trait Fredrick is VERY pro-freedom, and is always rooting for the underdog. He is also very sensitive if racism, and will willingly stand up to anyone who he feels is being unjust, common sense be damned.
FlawsFirst Flaw: Fredrick is an ANGRY little bugger. He is more or less always bitching about something or someone, and during combat he has to constantly fight against his own anger for control. His rage is a double edged sword in a fight, as, though it powers all of his skills, it also makes him less rational(duh). He can be smart, but rarely will he consider the smart idea when he can just inspire pantshitting terror.
Second Flaw: Fredrick is VERY hard headed. When he gets an idea in his head, he will stand by it, logic be damned.
Third Flaw: Fredrick is really socially awkward. His foot has taken permanent residence in his mouth and will not leave. He has the amazing power to say the dumbest thing possible.
Fourth Flaw HE ONLY HAS ONE FUCKING ARM. IT IS SO HARD TO DO THINGS ONE HANDED. HE NEEDS HELP UNSCREWING JARS. HE HAS ONE ARM.
Seriously though, while his abilities can compensate, he is still missing an arm. Out of combat he has various issues, and in combat he has to rely on a constant assault to keep himself safe, as having only one god damn arm means he can't attack and defend at the same time.
Skills
Growing Fury: A combination of berserk, frenzy and spirit warrior skills. Fredrick's combat rage has multiple stages to it, depending on how wounded he is and his furious he is. His second arm is tied to his rage too, not manifesting until the second stage of his fury.
1st Stage, Berserk: Fredrick's usual combat stage. Frothing at the mouth berserk fury, with no magic added. Fredrick swings Dragonslayer one handed, ripping through his foes.
Notable Skills: Various "two-handed" techniques, notably the very quick and powerful sunder arms and sunder armor, as well as Destroyer. He has a weakened version of frightening appearance, which is less Reaver powers and more being a terrifying berserk elf. He can use Final Blow, which exhausts his remaining energy and leaves him vulnerable.
2nd Stage, Unholy Frenzy: Fredrick rarely reaches this state.Fredrick's strength is further enhanced as he is wounded, and he begins to inspire bladder-failing terror with his warcrys and viscious attacks. He revels in blood, and regenerates if exposed to enemy blood. He can use frightening appearance to its true potential, and actually takes advantage of his terrifying nature to make his foes too scared to fight back. He can actively use Devour in order to heal further. He also forms a limb out of blood and fire in order to attack his foes. He gains use of overwhelm and dread howl while in this state of rage.
Third Stage Rage Demon: Fredrick sinks partially into the fade, gaining potent defensive and offensive benefits. His attacks become significantly faster, and blood becomes gravitating toward him to heal him. His formed arm becomes even more versatile, and he learns to use Fade Burst and Blood Rage. He gains use of Frenzy, Peon's Plight and Massacre, and regenerates health more with each foe killed. This state actively drains him, however, and he has only successfully manifested it for five seconds before. When this form wears off, he is extremely vulnerable.
He also has a Mabari named Mangy. The old wardog is good at harrowing foes and leaving them open to further assault, and is particularly good at taking down mages by overwhelming and murdering them.
Backstory
Biography: Backstory
Biography: Fredrick's family was a slightly wealthy one within the Denerim alienage. They lived relatively decent lives, and were able to bring up their kids with a decent education. Fredrick has an almost idealic life for a while, with a protective, kindly older sister named Nora, a hard working and wise father, and a gentle and loving mother.
He was STILL angry, of course. Fredrick was always short tempered. His reaction to anything was yelling. He was an absolute NIGHTMARE of a child to raise. The only reason he didn't get beat up by the other kids for his constant raging was because of the aforementioned older sister.
That changed when his sister was taken by the Circle. A human had been hitting his elven servant, and Fredrick, smart kid that he is, decided that the best solution was to swing a stick at the man. Considering he was nine at the time, he was slightly unsuccessful, and the man tried to attack him too.
Before the man could lay a hand on him, however, Nora did...something. She had held both of her hands out, and the man stood still. After a moment, he fell to the ground, unconscious.
Though the servant said nothing of her tiny saviors, word still got around. It was a few weeks of stressed waiting, and then Fredrick saw some big armored humans come and take her away. His family later got news of her having been slain while attempting to escape the circle.
Fredrick started getting into fights. A lot of fights. His parents constantly tried to get him to be more careful, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Fredrick did some good, however. While at first he mostly just fought the other kids, as he grew up he started fighting thugs, bullies. He has actually helped a decent number of people in Denerim. He even helped out a mabari breeder in Amaranthine while visiting family by driving off some thugs that were trying to steal some pups. Fredrick got a pup of his own for his troubles, whom he named Mangy. Mangy helped protect him, especially during the events of Tevinter slavers and other unrest in the alienage. Mangy even saved his life when they were helping protect the alienage.
After the Blight ended, Fredrick decided to take up mercenary work to help fund the reparation of the alienage. He and Mangy set off and joined with a group of mercenaries for a time. They gained quite a reputation as doers of the impossible. They went all over Denerim, and later beyond its borders, doing great deeds. Fredrick's company was called the Dogs of Fereldan, so named for their Chasind leader, and because Mangy became their mascot. The leader took Fredrick under his wing, and taught him to harness his rage more efficiently.
Eventually, they ended up hunting a rogue apostate in Kirkwall.
They tracked the Maleficar to a house in town, fully prepared to confirm who she was and kill her. However, when Fredrick saw her, his heart stopped.
The maleficar was his sister. She told him of how she had escaped and been named dead before her Harrowing. How she had turned to blood magic and unlocked the dalish secrets of the Arcane Warrior, and how she had dedicated herself to finding greater and greater power. How she planned on helping to free the mages.
And that was how Fredrick's mercenary company ended up doing covert operations against the Templars. They mostly smuggled mages away from Tower confines, killing any Templar that came after them. It was dirty work, as most Templars were good people, but Fredrick was willing to do it for his sister, and his mercenary company stood by its own.
Eventually, however, Fredrick found evidence of his sister's doings that he couldn't ignore.
Kidnapped children, men, women, even a few grey wardens. So many innocent people, suspended in glass jars and studied, experimented on.
His sister rationalized it. Freedom, at any costs. She was tired of being a slave, tired of being branded a criminal when all she wanted was freedom. Fredrick felt uneasy, but he allowed it.
One day, his company for a job to collect regeants for the mages. It all went well, till they tried to get Drake scales. They ended up attracting the attention of the Female, a powerful high dragon. It slew most of them, and Fredrick ended up losing his right arm when it tore into him.
After that, his rage boiled over. The details are hazy. He remembers climbing atop the corpses of his friends, piled as they were, and leaping into its snout. He remembers the haze of blood, and the rise and fall of his axe. He remembers a final swing of his great axe, and then rolling over, passing out in a pool of mixed blood.
He awoke in one of his sister's glass jars. She told him that he had been gone for a few days before she found him, and that she had only managed to save him through powerful blood magic. She told him she had found him next to the mangled corpse of a high dragon. It was decapitated, one of its wings had been torn out, and its skull had multiple fractures.
After that, Fredrick's short temper was even worse. For a few days, he had to seal himself off, as EVERYTHING sent him into a mad, raging fury. He worried that he had become an abomination, and his sister refused to tell him one way or the other.
It took months for Fredrick to recover properly, learning to harness his rage as a tool once more. With his company destroyed, Fredrick and Mangy were the last Dogs of Fereldan. During the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick felt his rage boil over to a breaking point. He had been fighting a particularly skilled Templar, and had been losing. Every swing of his axe was deflected by the man's shield. His blows seemed to drain Fredrick in an odd way, sapping his strength. He only won that fight when he flew into a rage beyond what he had ever encountered before. Blood flew about him, another weapon to wield. He became an animalistic thing, attacking ferociously, smacking his armored foe about like a pebble. He tore into his foe's armor with an appendage made of blood, and tore out his heart with his teeth. He then turned on...everyone. Friends, allies, enemies, all were the same. When he finally came to, Fredrick was horrified at what he had done. What he had become.
After the final battle of the Mage-Templar war, Fredrick's sister disappeared. He found her journal, left to him by her. She claimed not to want to be followed, that the war wasn't over.
She told him the truth of how he had been saved. That she had taken the blood of all the other surviving Dogs of Fereldan, and that of the dragon, and used them to change him. She hadn't healed his wounds. She had changed him so he could do it himself.
Fredrick sent Mangy home, and wandered about for a time, dissilusioned. He tossed himself into any fights he could find. His parents tried to contact him, but he avoided them. He was no longer their son. He was a monster. He wasn't even angry anymore. Just...tired.
At one point, he passed through Denerim. He had gone months without eating, and was basically a skeleton with axe and armor. He collapsed on the streets, dying.
He woke up in a comfortable bed, the smell of his mother's cooking wafting in. He felt Mangy lying next to him, and could hear his father talking about current events with his mom.
For a moment, he thought he had died. Mangy's stinky breath in his face told him otherwise.
His parents told him how Mangy had suddenly left, and came back dragging his armored form through the alienage.
Fredrick stayed for a while, doing work for the Guard. He stayed, and he healed. He learned of the stories that had been told about him back home, of how he'd become the hero that elves told their children about in Denerim. How the Dog of Fereldan was upheld by the Chasind as one of their legends. How Fereldan took pride in its Dogs, and in their final survivor.
Fredrick found a purpose again. His family knew that the truth was darker than the tales said. They didn't care. As much as he had worried and annoyed and irritated and ignored them, his family still loved him.
He eventually left again, Mangy at his side. He took mercenary work again, with all his loved ones in mind. He would make them proud.
And whether she wanted to be followed or not, he would find Nora, and bring her home.
Personality and/or Motivation: Fredrick is an angry, short tempered and surly individual with a strong moral code. He's far less violent than he used to be, and tries to avoid physical violence whenever he can.
He works out most of his frustration and temper through angry, sassy quips. Amd he never seems to stop talking.
He is EXTREMELY protective of his loved ones. Especially Mangy. You hurt his dog, you die.
Meanwhile, while he has some demons to face, he is actually happy about his life. He believes that there is good in the world, and he feels like it's worth fighting for. While he acts like a pessimist, he is VERY MUCH an optimist.
He loves to bake, secretly.
Player’s long term goals.
A chance to absolute berserk massacre a large group of enemies.
Mangy must piss on a lot of sacred artifacts to mark his territory
Get a chance to embarrass himself in front of an entire royal court.
Get ass kicked by a superior raging warrior.
Win in the rematch through NOT losing control.
Find his sister. Confront her over her actions, and work things out.
Avoid a huge massacre by being REALLY FUCKING SCARY.
Relations:
Fereldan Adoration: Fredrick is well-thought of by his home country, who have received watered down tales of his exploits.
Alienage: Especially Denerim's Alienage, who have received a LOT of money from him. They basically worship him there. Especially since the first act of his mercenary career was helping defend the alienage.
ApostateMages: Many mages, especially in Kirkwall, owe him their lives.
Chantry: For good reason, the Templars KINDA dislike him.
Secrets:
Fredrick keeps the darker side of his exploits under wraps. As far as anyone knows, he is just an angry, one armed hero. No one knows that the hunched beast that killed so many during kirkwall's final battle was him. Very few tales include the second stage of his fury, and no one knows about the third. The official story of him facing the dragon leaves out the part about him being healed with the lifeblood of his allies.
He also tries not to let anyone know that his missing sister is a known and dangerous maleficar.
Quotes:
"Nora, sis, I love you and cherish you, you know this, but WHAT THE SHRIEKING TIT NIPPLE KINGLY SHIT FUCK ARE ALL THOSE TRIPLE DARKSPAWN ORGY FUCKING PEOPLE DOING IN JARS!?"
"Fuck the rain! If I wanted water, I would have gone to a fucking well! Fucking Maker!"
"TEN SILVER!? FOR A FUCKING POULTICE?!? YOU SHITASSED MOTHERFUCKING SHITASS!"
"FUCK THOSE FUCKING FUCKERS!"
(To an arl) "FUCK YOUR COUCH, FUCK YOUR DOG CUZ MINE'S COOLER, FUCK YOUR MOM, YOUR DAD, YOUR UGLY ASS WIFE, YOUR WHOLE FUCKING FAMILY LINE, YOUR WHOLE ARLING, YOUR DUMB ASS SON AND SLUTTY ASS DAUGHTER, AND MOST OF ALL, FUCK YOU!"
"FUCK THAT!"
"FUCK!"
"SHIT!"
"SHIT FUCK!"
"For the love of the damned Maker. If another half assed fucking spider crawls out, I will shit out a rage snake and beat everyone in this cave ha fucking death with it!"
And, most commonly of all,
"Fuck you!"
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Avec les bûcherons collés entre les caltrapes et le feu de voile Henrietta lança une vague de mines élémentaires au milieu de la meute, et fut rapidement récompensée par un éventail d'explosions satisfaisantes qui choquèrent, brûlèrent et figèrent les bêtes tout à la fois.
La meute était en train de paniquer, et dans leur terreur a commencé à sauter à travers les flammes vertes magiques entre eux et les aventuriers. La plupart d'entre eux n'ayant été abattus qu'une demi-douzaine d'entre eux, leurs écailles étaient souillées et givrées par les détonations élémentaires que le nain avait déclenchées quelques instants auparavant. Ne voulant pas trop attirer l'attention, et avec ses munitions épuisées pour l'instant, Henrietta s'est rapidement glissé dans l'ombre changeante du passage souterrain, prenant la couverture alors qu'elle commençait rapidement à bricoler avec ses provisions restantes, embarcation plus de mines.
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Henrietta Harrowmont .
Madcap Mechanical MenaceBasic Information
Species: Dwarf
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue
Appearance:
Like most of her race Henrietta is shorter than most other races, but she still stands a good couple of inches taller than most of her own people. Heavily influenced by the technologies of both the Tevinter and the Qunari, Henrietta has built herself a 'battle-harness' which incorporates any number of weird and wonderful gadgets to help her keep safe in battle. Vitae
Specialisations: Artificer, Sabotage, Subterfuge
Notable Traits:A Gadget For Every Occasion: Whenever the opportunity presents itself Henrietta loves nothing more than to dismantle and rebuild her battle-harness, upgrading and improving its design with her latest madcap invention. She always seems to have some sort of gadget to lend a helping hand to a situation, even if they don't always work in exactly the way she had intended them to.
Mechanical Mastermind: Henrietta is a genius when it comes to mechanisms, machinery and motorised marvels of all kinds. There are very few devices which, with the proper instruments and time, she cannot discover the purpose, function and operation of.
Mind Over Matter: Fully aware of her physical shortcomings, Henrietta's battle-harness has built-in strength enhancing gauntlets designed to increase the power of her punches and enable to to fight back against anyone who might try to take her inventions away from her. While this only makes her as strong as an average warrior, it still packs enough of a punch to help Henrietta out of tight corners.
Duck and Cover: The only reason Henrietta has survived this long in her experimentations is her innate ability to know when something's just about to go dreadfully wrong, and having the speed and skill to make herself vanish just before someone asks the question "Who the hell blew up my forge?"
Flaws:Fade-less: As a dwarf, Henrietta has no connection with the Fade and cannot use magics in their normal manner. While she has a resistance to lyrium in all its usual forms, she can still be affected by red lyrium over long periods or in large enough quantities.
Loose Screw: While none can doubt her skills at forging and crafting components for her latest creations, Henrietta has a habit of missing out minor, but often key, components when constructing her devices. Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem, but the tenth time... DUCK!
"What Does This Button Do?": When faced with a mystery, especially a mechanical one, Henrietta just can't stop herself from giving it a poke. Sometimes this habit of practical experimentation leads to great rewards and breakthroughs in knowledge, but at other times it can lead her and her comrades into trouble.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder: Henrietta is obsessed with the number three and often has to do minor actions, such as stirring her broth, washing her bowl and tightening screws, in multiples of three. While this has no immediately detrimental effect should she not be able to complete the action, it will bug her for the rest of the day, until she can finally complete the sequence.
Skills: Spike Trap, Elemental Mines, Caltrops, Hook and Tackle, Throwing Blades, Knockout Powder and Stealth
Backstory
Biography:
Born on the surface, in a clan of dwarves living in Nevarra, Henrietta soon showed an inquisitive and curious nature which was only fed by the love of her blacksmith father. Quickly learning the ways of the hammer and tongs, Henrietta set out to discover new ways to make metal work, developing skills in precision crafting and forging which enabled her to build smaller, more efficient mechanisms each day. When the Nevarran Military discovered the young girl's gift they immediately travelled to her small settlement to make her an offer she couldn't refuse, to turn her skills towards constructing war machines which would make Nevarra the envy of the world.
Asking for some time to think over their proposal Henrietta and her entire family swiftly scarpered, leaving their village behind them to seek out a safer, less intimidating place to set up shop. For several months the dwarves journeyed around the shores of the Waking Sea, passing through numerous countries on their way, the family eventually found themselves in the shadow of the Frostback Mountains with seemingly no way to pass.
Settling down the dwarves began doing what they do best, mining. As they cut their way into the side of the mountains, uncovering ores and minerals which could be used to craft their wares, the dwarves were surprised to come across red lyrium buried deep within the rocks. Not realising what this strange material was they happily began forging it into their armour, weapons and trinkets as an adornment to their creations. Soon after they found themselves under the gaze of the Inquisition, who demanded to know where the red lyrium had come from.
After revealing their mining endeavour the dwarves were quickly evacuated from the area, for their own safety. WHile the move was sudden the poor innocents were treated with the utmost respect and soon found themselves working their trade under the Inquisition's banner. CHurning out arms and armour each day held little interest for Henrietta though, so instead she set to work building herself the means to help the Inquisition more directly, and had soon created a working prototype of her battle-harness. When presenting the mechanisms to the Inquisition forces they were less than impressed, mainly due to Henrietta managing to accidentally demolish part of the kitchens in the process.
Seeing the potential in the young and eager dwarf, and not wanting her anywhere near them when her mad inventions finally managed to reduce the area around her to a smoking crater, the Inquisition forces made enquiries as to the need amongst their allies for a blacksmith-come-death machine, and Henrietta soon found herself in the company of the Company, brave mercenaries who treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy, from as far away as they could politely get.
Personality and/or Motivation:
Dreaming of nothing more than machinery, cogs and gears Henrietta seeks to learn everything she can about the physical sciences, and to be the first to build something spectacular. She doesn't know exactly what that something may be, but she is most definitely certain about the spectacular part.
Player’s long term goals:Henrietta can be an important part of any quest, her skill with mechanisms and devices extending to locks, traps and secret doorways just as much as to machinery and engines. I'd like her to have the opportunity to build steam-aged machines to help out the party, if she can work out the science behind them first.
Relations:Henrietta's family are currently sheltered by the Inquisition, working as blacksmiths and trader on their behalf.Although her family once had times with the Noble House of Harrowmont, as a Surface Dwarf Henrietta has no contact with Orzammar and only limited knowledge of dwarven beliefs and traditions.
While not Andrastian herself she holds a deep respect for their faith and accepts many of their customer and rituals as her own.Henrietta is currently wanted by the Nevarran Military, although as they only wish to recruit her they wouldn't want to take any overtly aggressive actions against her, least they drive her into the hands of their rivals.
Secrets:The power supply for Henrietta's battle-harness is a refined red lyrium reactor, which harnesses the power of the strange element in order to make her mechanisms function. The long-term effects of exposure to the material, even in its heavily shielded state, are currently unknown, and should the containment ever be breached the red lyrium could adversely affect everyone Henrietta comes into contact with.
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Dans l'âge des Anciens,
Le monde n'était pas formé, brouillé par le brouillard
Un pays de rochers gris, d'arches et de dragons éternels
Mais il y a eu le feu.
Et avec le Feu vint la Disparité. Chaleur et froid, vie et mort, et bien sûr.. Lumière et Ténèbre.
Puis, des Ténèbres, ils sont venus
Et ils trouvèrent les âmes des Seigneurs dans la flamme.
Nito, le premier des morts
La Sorcière d'Izalith, et ses filles du chaos
Gwyn, le Seigneur de la Lumière du Soleil, et ses chevaliers fidèles
Et le pygmée furtif, si facilement oublié
Avec la force des Seigneurs, ils défièrent les dragons.
Les puissants boulons de Gwyn ont épluché leurs écailles de pierre
Les sorcières tissent de grandes tempêtes de feu
Nito a déclenché un miasma de mort et de maladie
Et Seath l'Échelle trahit les siens, et les dragons n'étaient plus
C'est ainsi que commença l'âge du feu
Mais bientôt, les flammes s'effaceront, et seul l'Ombre restera.
Même maintenant, il n'y a que des braises, et l'homme ne voit pas la lumière, mais seulement des nuits sans fin
Et parmi les vivants sont vus, porteurs de l'insigne maudit.
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C'est l'extrémité la plus lointaine du monde connu.
Certains peuvent l'appeler le pays des hérétiques.
Les sorciers de chaque terre ont voyagé ici pour étudier et partager les connaissances de l'arcane.
Ce qu'ils ont trouvé n'était rien que le monde aurait dû dévoiler.
Un trône fait de verre le plus clair, forgé dans les rochers de la montagne Qaszad.
Le Trône de Saignement.
Car le trône était de la magie la plus forte, le juste et soi-même a revendiqué Roi de la Valkyrie,
lui-même saignait sur ce trône pour nourrir les terres et apporter de l'espoir au peuple.
Mais les Ténèbres ne sont pas tombées.
Il saisit pour les pouvoirs qui résident à l'intérieur du trône et c'est le toucher corrompt les hommes de bataille.
Sans les braises d'un pompier à volonté fort, cette terre va bientôt s'effondrer sous son propre pouvoir...
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Cela fait une semaine, depuis que le groupe a quitté la Terre des Lords, Lordran. Forêts, plaines, prairies, montagnes. Le flux sans fin de nature verte a passé le groupe. Emilia, une femme de grande taille, se tenait au sommet de la falaise, regardant de l'autre côté de l'horizon. C'était une vue admirable. Elle ne pouvait toujours pas croire qu'ils n'avaient rencontré aucun être hostile. Ils ont vu une meute de loups l'autre jour, mais ils étaient prudents. Un groupe comme celui-ci émettait de la force juste en les regardant.
Ils se tenaient à la frontière connue sous le nom de Foul Springs. Les derniers arbres qu'ils verraient pendant un moment. L'eau luxuriante et livide des plantes, se dégradant lentement dans un désert. Le sol était déjà séché là où se trouvait Emilia. Le sable était transporté entre les arbres, laissant des cicatrices sur les plantes comme des marques coupées sur une personne. Cet endroit n'était pas mauvais, mais braqué. Brûlé par le souffle du monde.
« Les Seigneurs ont quitté cet endroit pour de bon », murmura la femme, tandis qu'elle guidait lentement ses marches sur un sentier étroit de la falaise qui mène vers le bas. Au fur et à mesure que le sentier se prolongeait, il s'élargissait, des parcelles d'herbe et quelques petites fleurs poussaient sur les bords. Cave ins ont été dispersés sur le côté de la falaise, de fortes bosselures dans le mur rocheux qui ont été remplis jusqu'au bord avec des crânes. Pas seulement les humains. Des démons. Des dragons. Les horreurs de Lordran, soigneusement caché entre les crânes des humains.
Emilia regarda ces terriers et continua à marcher. Elle avait vu des effusions de sang, mais c'était juste grotesque pour elle. "Les âmes de ceux qui ont souillé cet endroit devraient être avalées par l'abîme." Ses yeux se rétrécissaient. Elle allait dans un endroit lointain pour devenir pompier. Elle savait ce qui se passait. Son Seigneur l'a envoyée pour arrêter ce qui se passait. Non seulement les Valkyries avaient appelé la guerre à Lordran, mais les rapports de Démons traversant la frontière étaient en augmentation. Quelle que soit la ruse à portée de main, cela s'arrêterait une fois ce voyage terminé. Les seigneurs de Lordran l'ont décidé. "Nous devons y aller", Emilia a appelé le groupe.
Alors un son. C'était un piège, ou un sifflement. Un son qui vient des crânes. Il est venu si soudain et de près, que Emilia a sauté, ses pieds se rapprochant trop du bord. Les rochers se sont effondrés sous ses talons. Avec un bruit retentissant, des pierres sont tombées dans la falaise, frappant des rochers et continuant leur chemin vers le bas. L'étrange sifflement résonnait maintenant de tous côtés. Les terriers s'ouvrent, les crânes volent. Les squelettes se sont levés du sol. Et au milieu de cela, Emilia se débattait avec son équilibre, ses bras se balançant dans toutes les directions dans l'espoir de retrouver un peu d'équilibre.
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Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
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22,841 | 656 | 1 | 1,891 | 650 |
Le géant en métal se tenait au sommet de la falaise, surplombant l'étendue sablonneuse devant elle. Un petit grognement en est venu. Elle soupçonnait que son vieux maître aimerait cet endroit. Ça sentait la mort. Rien n'a survécu ici, semble-t-il. La tête du géant de l'acier tourna lentement vers le bas, surplombant les crânes de vieux monstres morts. Démons, dragons, humains. Les trois plus grandes horreurs du monde. Un petit bruit, peut-être un scoff ou une toux, l'a échappé, le seul son autre que la respiration régulière en dessous. Ces choses étaient certaines des pires choses qui étaient arrivées au monde, les deux premières pour des raisons évidentes. Les humains, cependant, étaient dans leur propre catégorie pour ce qu'ils avaient fait, et ce qu'ils pouvaient faire. Mais c'était des pensées pour une autre fois.
Lentement, soigneusement, la femme leva un pied et le plaça sur ce qui ressemblait à un sol stable. Les pierres creusèrent et gémirent sous son poids, mais se tint fermes. Elle plaça sa main gauche sur le mur de pierres et d'os pour se stabiliser, l'autre main tenant un très grand marteau, le reposant sur son épaule. L'acier brillant recouvrait tout son corps, les plaques de métal épais à chaque endroit. Les pauldrons étaient presque aussi épais que sa poitrine, et les tassets étaient extrêmement, ressemblant à une jupe en métal ridiculement grande sur les jambes épaisses. Le casque recouvrait entièrement son visage, le seul moyen de voir une série de trous sur l'avant, pointait la moitié supérieure de la barre, le crâne lisse de celle-ci tenant sa tête snobement.
Elle s'est arrêtée morte dans ses traces au début du sifflement. Un grognement lui a échappé comme ça, et elle a cherché à s'assurer que l'autre femme se débrouille bien. Voyant que tout n'était pas tout à fait bien, elle s'est permise de glisser vers le bas, sa main s'emparant de la pente une fois de plus pour se ralentir. Une fois que cela a été accompli, elle s'est approchée et a saisi l'arrière du cou de la fille, la tirant en arrière pour se stabiliser. Le géant est resté silencieux comme elle l'a fait, puis il a jeté un coup d'œil aux squelettes voisins. Ils seraient bientôt sur eux. Sa poignée s'est serrée sur le marteau alors qu'elle regardait d'un côté à l'autre. Ce ne serait pas une bagarre amusante.
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Name: Ana Blackclaw
Age: Twenty-Seven
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing at a mighty 6'5, she is a giant among her fellow humans. Her face is light, though paler than the average man or woman's, and is marked by scars: Three parallel on her left cheek, and one long one beginning at the right corner of her mouth, and curving upward to give her a permanent smirk. Her hair is cut short and choppy, the black strands barely reaching her shoulders. Her body is muscular, as it would have to be to carry both her armor and the hammer. Her arms are also marked by a number of scars and bruises, which she wears proudly. Her light grey eyes nearly always keep a bored expression. Her canines seem a tad larger than the normal person's.
Preferred Weapon*: Hammer
Preferred Armor*: Heavy
Gift*: Binoculars
Darksign?*: No
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22,842 | 656 | 2 | 180 | 812 |
Le chevalier du temple a suivi près de l'arrière du groupe, pour regarder le dos pour tous les ennemis qui pourraient essayer de se faufiler une attaque surprise. Bien qu'une autre raison de son choix d'être dans le dos était le fait qu'il n'était pas mort, un homme maudit de terres loin de l'autre côté de la mer. Avant même de prendre congé de sa patrie après être devenu mort-vivant, il n'avait jamais entendu parler des endroits étranges dans cette masse de terres très différente. Il était un parias, chassé de ses terres d'origine pour ce qu'il était devenu et ne cherche que le châtiment, une forme d'acte qui peut montrer qu'être mort n'a pas marqué la fin de l'humanité dans une âme. Pourtant, aux autres membres du groupe, ils savaient peu d'où il venait et de son passé.
La mort dans cette terre était tout à fait horrifiante, mais en tant que chevalier, il avait appris à se sentir engourdi par la mort et la destruction, tout ce qu'il pouvait faire était d'espérer que ceux qui avaient passé ici, avaient atteint tout ce qui allait au-delà de la vie et qu'ils étaient en paix. Il a porté quelques jetons pour marquer ceux qui pourraient en avoir besoin, quelques médailles avec un soleil flamboyant sur eux, ainsi que quelques morceaux de ce qu'on appelait l'humanité. Ils n'ont servi à rien sans un feu de joie, et il espérait qu'ils en trouveraient bientôt. Si seulement pour se reposer, il n'était pas humain et n'avait pas été tué, du moins pas depuis un certain temps.
Il a été perdu dans la pensée quand il a entendu le sifflement, il a rapidement enlevé le bouclier de son dos et a saisi son halberd et a avancé, bouclier levé et halberd s'est étendu vers l'extérieur pour empêcher les ennemis. Bien sûr, ce devait être des squelettes, une forme de nécromant ou de magie noire qui les a ramenés. Bien qu'ils auraient peut-être de la chance et ceux-ci descendraient avec quelques coups et ne pas réanimer à nouveau ou sinon ils auraient à chercher le nécromance avant qu'ils puissent vraiment tuer ces abominations.
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Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
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22,843 | 656 | 3 | 2,312 | 259 |
Cela faisait une semaine qu'ils avaient quitté Lordran, une semaine pleine de truffes dans les montagnes et les bois sans excitation. Pas de batailles, pas de morts-vivants (sauve celui qui voyageait avec eux), rien. C'était un beau changement par rapport à Lordran, mais c'était... troublant. Il y avait un problème. Idan s'est ébranlé la tête. Ce n'était rien. Il est venu au sommet de la falaise et a regardé au-dessus du désert devant eux puis de retour aux arbres derrière eux. Aucun arbre ne signifie nulle part où se cacher, il pensait à lui-même, bien qu'il en soit de même pour l'ennemi.
« Les Seigneurs ont quitté cet endroit pour de bon », a dit l'ébranleur, Emilia, au moment où elle a commencé à descendre la falaise. Idan s'est tout simplement mis d'accord et a suivi les autres, en reculant toutes les étapes. En bas du bord escarpé des falaises, les crânes étaient laissés pour être cueillis par tous les charognards qui s'importaient de venir ici, bien que les crânes de démons et de dragons l'inquiétaient plus qu'il ne voulait l'admettre. Il dessina une carte portant le symbole d'un jester de sa ceinture et la fixa un moment avant de la remplacer. Ils ont continué vers le bas, mais un son l'a arrêté dans ses traces. Il s'approcha de l'arbalète accrochée sur son dos et regarda les tas de crânes. Ils avaient commencé à se déplacer et il a grimacé. Ils ont dû trouver un endroit où se cacher. Les tas de crânes éclatent vers l'extérieur et des squelettes émergent du sol, ébranlant Emilia, bien que la géante Ana la soutienne. Il lui fit signe d'approbation avant de tirer un boulon de la boîte à sa hanche pour recharger l'arbalète et l'apporter à son épaule, prêt à tirer.
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Name: Idan Graves
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Appearance: Idan is a well-built, light-skinned man that stands just above 6 feet. He has brown hair that has started to recede and a short-cut beard that comes to a point at his chin. He has an always tired look due to bags under his eyes and a large scar on his shoulder.
Preferred Weapon*: Crossbow
Preferred Armor*: Light.
Gift*: The Jester (He claims the card brings him luck)
Darksign?*: Nope
Edit: switched him to light armor.
Also crossbows instead of swords.
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22,844 | 656 | 4 | 2,525 | 47 |
Valdur marchait au centre du groupe avec la tête baissée, ses cheveux noirs corbeaux drapés au-dessus de ses épaules. Il était fatigué, quelque chose est tombé lui était arrivé, mais quoi. Les dernières nuits, il n'a pas dormi, seulement une démangeaison à sa cage thoracique, bien qu'aucune trace ou anomalie ne puisse être observée à la surface. Était-ce l'épuisement, la peur ou l'empressement? Il a essayé de se rassurer que c'était juste des nerfs ou s'habituer à l'air pur, un contraste avec les villes bondées de Catarina. Valdur avait cependant admis qu'il aimait le ciel vert et ouvert, sans parler des incidents aléatoires de cerfs et de sangliers vus dans la forêt, un couple qu'il avait tué pour servir de nourriture au groupe.
L'appréciation de la verdure par Valdur fut cependant peu vécue lorsqu'ils arrivèrent au désert. Il faisait froid et stérile, le côté falaise peignait une image du conflit passé et des horreurs indicibles qui s'étaient produites ici. Les exécutions de massacres ou même les rituels? Chaque crâne d'un humain avait sa propre histoire, chaque dragon et chaque conte épique et chaque démon un Valdur secret ne voulait pas entendre chuchoter. Alors qu'ils marchaient plus loin le long de la falaise, son abdomen se démangeait une fois de plus, ses cheveux se balançaient sur la douce brise envoyant un frisson vers son cœur. Les vents n'étaient ni froids ni chauds et ils ont été frappés avec peu de force. Valdur s'empoigna fermement de sa lance et de son bouclier et continua de suivre le groupe. "Les Seigneurs ont quitté cet endroit pour de bon." Valdur perça un regard sur le futur pompier, il s'attacha et murmura à lui-même en analysant les monticules des crânes. "Ils n'ont jamais été avec nous..." Ils ont continué dans une descente en bas de la falaise s'accrochant au bord de la vie chère, Valdur était juste à la maison, comme un garçon il escaladerait les remparts dans sa ville comme s'il sautait parmi les nuages. Un bruit de sifflement soudain les a tous jetés hors de leur concentration. Avec un éclair Valdur a pris une position basse face aux terriers, son bouclier tenu fermement devant lui et sa lance fermement à ses côtés. Emilia avait perdu son équilibre, mais la femme géante l'avait attrapée avec ses bras. Valdur était impatient, sa poitrine démangeante était en feu avec passion et ses dents bardées se tournaient vers un sourire. Les créatures osseuses éclatent des monticules en envoyant de la poussière et des fragments dans l'air autour de Valdur, avec l'instinct pur, il attend une seconde ou deux et se jette dans l'écran de fumée de l'os. Les restes d'un squelette se sont brisés et sont tombés sur lui démonté, il s'est ensoleillé autour et a frappé une seconde avec le puits, le filant vers les autres.
"Surround Emilia! Que personne ne la touche!"
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Name: Valdur
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Spear and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Vial of Blighted Blood
Darksign?*: No
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22,845 | 656 | 5 | 562 | 223 |
La foule des os ressuscités commença à se rassembler. Ils étaient nombreux, environ une douzaine de chaque côté et encore plus s'approchant du sentier. Ce n'était pas un problème d'enlever un squelette. Ils étaient plutôt inoffensifs, si vous vous concentriez sur la cible. Dans la plupart des cas, vous étiez surpassé au point qu'ils sortaient de la vue et donc sont devenus un danger. Par un groupe comme celui-ci, et sur un sentier qui mène vers le bas d'une falaise, il était facile de se garder l'un l'autre couvert.
Emilia a salué avec reconnaissance la Giantesse qui les a suivis. Sa Katana sort lentement de la gaine, malgré son efficacité contre ces bêtes. Ils dispersaient leurs os avec un bon coup de toute façon. Une lame n'était qu'une utilisation inutile.
"Soyez calmes, mes amis. Ces enfants des Ténèbres n'ont rien contre nous." Il y avait un peu de calme dans sa voix. Résolu par les pouvoirs de ce groupe, le pompier regarda les bêtes qui s'approchaient. Ce sont tous des squelettes humains. Les crânes de démon et de dragon ont été dispersés et brisés dans leur environnement. Quoi qu'il en soit, cette ruse n'avait pas le pouvoir de soulever les os d'êtres puissants.
Mais il y avait un grondement dans le sol qui a surpris la femme une fois de plus. Un simple frisson de la falaise qui était encore plus contre nature que la petite bande de marche mort. "Frappe ces bêtes. Faites place au fond. Il faut qu'on y aille." Elle a commencé à avancer sur le sentier, en donnant un coup de pied à la jambe d'un squelette et en frappant la tête en bas de la falaise. Les swips lents des lames osseuses et des clubs de pierre n'étaient rien pour elle. Elle a facilement marché entre les coups et a contrecarré tout aussi facilement. Le groupe ne devrait avoir aucun problème face à ces abominations.
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Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
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22,846 | 656 | 6 | 1,891 | 650 |
La femme s'inclina devant le pompier, et suivit de près. Beaucoup de squelettes couraient vers elle, attirés par sa masse, et commencèrent à la frapper avec leurs épées ternes et leurs clubs primitifs. Les armes ont rebondi, provoquant peu plus que des égratignures dans l'armure. Sa main libre enveloppée autour de la nuque du marteau puissant juste au-dessous de sa main droite, et avec un talon, elle le leva de son épaule et le descendit, écrasant les os du squelette devant elle, et plusieurs des os en dessous. Les autres continuèrent à se battre contre elle, mais elle ne sentit rien de plus que le léger tremblement sous sa forme. Le marteau a été soulevé, puis a balancé dans un grand arc, se baissant et brisant une rangée de squelettes avant elle.
Hammer dans la main, elle gardait lentement derrière le pompier, le marteau rendant le travail court de n'importe quel squelette assez stupide pour s'approcher trop. C'était trop facile, ce boulot. Elle s'attendait à un combat, elle s'attendait à devoir traverser l'enfer et revenir pour amener ce pompier partout où c'était qu'ils allaient. Mais, au lieu de cela, elle était simplement en train d'être lamentée par une douzaine de squelettes pendant qu'elle craignait leurs crânes. À l'ordre du pompier, le géant resta silencieux. Il était évident qu'ils auraient besoin de descendre de la falaise. C'était assez dangereux sans les squelettes, mais avec eux c'était carrément meurtrier.
Elle a dû le remettre à celui qui les a convoqués, ils avaient des couilles. Ils pensaient qu'ils étaient assez forts pour les combattre tous. Ou, plus précisément, assez faible pour appeler les autres à le faire pour lui. Mais le fait qu'il l'ait fait était louable, peu importe son raisonnement. Elle devrait se souvenir de ça quand elle a écrasé son crâne dans ses mains. Il lui a apporté un sourire au visage alors qu'elle a balancé le marteau autour et a frappé un crâne sur les épaules d'un squelette, puis a ensuite claqué le cul dans son torse pour écraser ses côtes et sa colonne vertébrale. Cela pourrait s'avérer amusant après tout.
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Name: Ana Blackclaw
Age: Twenty-Seven
Gender: Female
Appearance: Standing at a mighty 6'5, she is a giant among her fellow humans. Her face is light, though paler than the average man or woman's, and is marked by scars: Three parallel on her left cheek, and one long one beginning at the right corner of her mouth, and curving upward to give her a permanent smirk. Her hair is cut short and choppy, the black strands barely reaching her shoulders. Her body is muscular, as it would have to be to carry both her armor and the hammer. Her arms are also marked by a number of scars and bruises, which she wears proudly. Her light grey eyes nearly always keep a bored expression. Her canines seem a tad larger than the normal person's.
Preferred Weapon*: Hammer
Preferred Armor*: Heavy
Gift*: Binoculars
Darksign?*: No
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22,847 | 656 | 7 | 180 | 812 |
Swingant sa halbère, Thalesin a sorti quelques-uns des squelettes maudits qui se trouvaient devant eux, évitant les quelques coups pathétiques qu'ils ont essayé d'atterrir sur lui avec son bouclier. Quand il s'était inscrit à ce voyage, il avait soupçonné qu'ils rencontreraient des ennuis, bien que les squelettes étaient un étrange ennemi à affronter à moins que quelqu'un voulait les empêcher de leur quête. Celui qui aurait pu convoquer ces squelettes semblait ne pas être là et ne pensait pas à l'ampleur du groupe. Shield se leva sans cesse, décidant maintenant de passer de la halbère à la hache croissant, voyant que les squelettes dont il devait s'inquiéter étaient dispersés plus que dans un groupe et que la hache permettait des frappes plus rapides, bien que cela signifiait qu'il devait se rapprocher.
Dans certaines de ses attaques bien qu'il ait été négligent un coup proche là ou ici, en raison du fait qu'il n'était pas mort. Qu'avait-il à craindre de la mort? Il reviendrait, bien qu'à une certaine distance derrière le groupe, il serait de retour mort-vivant et dans le besoin de retrouver l'humanité avec une effigie d'une certaine forme. La mort n'était qu'une nuisance qui tentait de l'éloigner de son chemin maintenant, la seule chose dont il aurait à s'inquiéter serait de se vider, de perdre tout sens ou espoir qu'il avait laissé sous sa forme et de devenir un voyou sans esprit, prêt à tuer quiconque pourrait essayer de s'aventurer par lui. Étrangement, dans ce domaine, les choses qu'il appelait les effigies humaines étaient appelées humanités une différence qu'il trouvait curieuse lorsqu'il a eu la chance de voir à quel point ce royaume était différent de son propre royaume à travers la mer.
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Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
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22,848 | 656 | 8 | 2,312 | 259 |
Idan a lâché son boulon et il s'est claqué dans le crâne d'un squelette, en envoyant sa tête tomber, descendre, descendre. C'était trop lent pour être très utile au combat, et il avait les mêmes chances de frapper un allié de lui a fait ses ennemis, donc il a tiré son poignard de sa ceinture et son boucleur de son dos et chargé dans la fraye. Il a poignardé vers le premier squelette qu'il a rencontré et il a rencontré c'est sternum avant de suivre avec un coup de pied de la corniche. Il s'engagea dans la bataille, coupant et poignardant tout en évitant et bloquant les coups avec son boucleur. Il n'était pas aussi fan de se battre de près, mais c'était parfois nécessaire. Il regarda les morts-vivants qui se battaient à ses côtés, un peu inquiets. Les morts-vivants étaient... Ils pourraient être de bons combattants, si un peu négligent vu leur... malédiction? Bénédiction? Il ne pouvait pas vraiment décider qui était le Darksign, mais finalement devenir fou ne semblait pas particulièrement amusant. J'espère que Thalesin a eu beaucoup de temps avant ce happe-- THUD! Idan s'est décapité comme un squelette l'a défoncé avec son bouclier. Il avait été distrait et il s'était juré sous son souffle avant d'arracher son adversaire. Il a regardé ses pieds un moment et s'est amusé. Il se tenait juste au bord de la falaise, et un seul coup pouvait lui faire trébucher jusqu'à sa mort. D'abord, il a dû s'occuper de ce squelette...
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Name: Idan Graves
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Appearance: Idan is a well-built, light-skinned man that stands just above 6 feet. He has brown hair that has started to recede and a short-cut beard that comes to a point at his chin. He has an always tired look due to bags under his eyes and a large scar on his shoulder.
Preferred Weapon*: Crossbow
Preferred Armor*: Light.
Gift*: The Jester (He claims the card brings him luck)
Darksign?*: Nope
Edit: switched him to light armor.
Also crossbows instead of swords.
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22,849 | 656 | 9 | 562 | 223 |
Le groupe s'en sortait très bien. Les squelettes ressuscités de leur repos n'étaient pas un problème. Il y avait les problèmes habituels par des combats plus nombreux. Le sentier s'agrandit, plus le groupe descend vers le bas du flanc de la falaise. Le terrain de grognement a augmenté tout au long des combats, conduisant Emilia à plus d'agitation. Sa lame a balayé les os, ne laissant que des os fendus et des squelettes s'effondrer. Lors d'un coup de calme à travers la bataille, Emilia regarda autour de lui. Juste derrière le pompier, il y avait Ana qui balançait son puissant marteau sur les champs d'os. Avec la Giante, Emilia pouvait facilement tondre ce qui était devant eux. Ils pouvaient garder le dos libre l'un de l'autre et les squelettes n'étaient pas un gros problème.
Mais il y avait alors le terrain tremblant. Elle avait pris une telle ampleur, que les os du sol commençaient à trembler et à rebondir. Juste un peu derrière le groupe, le mur de la falaise s'est ouvert. L'échafaudage d'un autre mort-vivant perça l'air. Quelque chose de grand, cependant. Une masse d'os se griffa contre les rochers, traînant ce qui était la brûlure de chair pourrie, couvert d'une armure d'os. L'horrible figure était semblable à celle d'un oiseau, malgré ses ailes qui n'existent pas, ses grands bras pêchant des griffes comme un jeu d'épées. Au lieu de simples yeux, la figure massive avait une masse de crânes dans ses sockets, chaque fuite d'un liquide vert des yeux ouverts. Le bec était peint dans du sang et de la saleté et c'était peut-être la seule partie du corps qui n'était pas garnie d'os. Le torse, bien qu'à mi-chemin creusé à l'intérieur de la falaise, a déjà révélé un ensemble de côtes qui ont accroché au-dessus de la chair teintée foncée. Avec un autre shriek qui agite l'air, la masse commence à se tirer plus loin du tunnel.
La vue de cette créature a gelé le sang d'Emilia. Son corps a cessé de bouger sur place, permettant aux morts-vivants d'avoir des coups sur le pompier. Elle sentait qu'une lame coupait une ligne sur son dos, ce qui était l'appel à se réveiller pour qu'elle continue de bouger. L'autre problème qui restait était un membre du groupe, Idan, était poussé vers le bord. Poussant un squelette qui s'approchait vers ses camarades, Emilia cria : « Continuez à bouger! Ne laissez pas la bête nous attraper ici." Ses pieds l'ont portée plus près du groupe, faisant un tiret pour Idan. Elle ne perdrait pas un camarade d'armes si tôt dans leur voyage.
En attendant, la créature non morte s'est lentement déplacée du trou, c'est des griffes qui creusent dans la falaise. La tête de la bête grandit peu plus que la Giantesse du groupe. Le torse grandit lentement, tandis que la créature s'inhalait profondément. Un ensemble de fines pattes de corbeau sortit du trou et creusa dans la roche, tandis qu'une queue traversa la falaise, balançant des pierres et les jetant autour. Ces rochers ont traversé la région, détruisant tout ce qui n'était pas préparé ou couvert. Dans ce cas, la masse des squelettes a été rapidement décimée en nombres plus petits. L'inconvénient, c'est qu'Emilia, qui a essayé de se rendre à Idan pour l'aider et lui donner une base plus stable, a été frappée par une place de pierre sur son armure. Il l'a arrachée des pieds, poussant l'air hors de ses poumons et l'a jetée sur le sol.
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,850 | 656 | 10 | 180 | 812 |
Thalesin se tourna vers l'abomination hideuse qui rampait vers eux. Ils avaient besoin de temps pour sortir de là, mais le temps était contre lui.« Ceux qui ne sont pas maudits par le signe sombre, bougez-vous rapidement. Quant à ceux qui ont le signe sombre choisissent de rester ou de fuir avec les autres, cette chose doit être distrait », a-t-il dit à l'égard des autres lorsqu'il a brisé un squelette en morceaux. Une fois de plus, il se tourna vers la créature et marcha vers l'avant, le bouclier étant dressé et la hache étant prête. Il n'y avait aucun moyen de le vaincre, pas sans prendre des éternités, mais il pouvait au moins le distraire des autres. Au moins le signe obscur a fourni une bonne chose, l'incapacité de mourir l'a fait accepter le fait qu'il pourrait être frappé maintenant, mais au moins il pourrait donner aux autres un moyen d'échapper, ceux qui ont été assez bénis pour ne pas être maudits. Quant aux autres maudits dans le groupe, c'était là le choix de se battre ou de s'enfuir, Thalesin était pourtant prêt à se battre et le ferait jusqu'à la fin de ses jours morts s'il n'avait jamais trouvé de remède pour la malédiction.
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Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
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22,851 | 656 | 11 | 2,312 | 259 |
Idan a poignardé en avant avec son poignard, attraper le squelette entre les côtes et a marché sur le côté, essayant de traîner le squelette dans son emplacement précédent juste au bord de la falaise. Les rochers et la saleté s'écroulaient au sol, et Idan était dangereusement près de tomber, mais la manœuvre a fonctionné et maintenant, lui et son adversaire devaient se rapprocher du bord. Le sol avait commencé à trembler, et Idan et le squelette ont trébuché, heureusement vers le bord mais loin l'un de l'autre. Idan s'est remis en premier et s'est jeté au squelette, son pied se connectant avec le bassin. Le squelette est retombé et c'est le bras de l'épée claqué contre le bord de la falaise et il est tombé au sol, laissant le squelette sans arme. Il s'est retourné, apercevoir la chose qui se tirait du flanc de la falaise. Il a tremblé. C'était le travail d'un sorcier? Ou était-ce quelque chose d'autre au travail ici? Aucun mortel ne devrait être capable d'appeler une telle monstruosité.
Emilia venait l'aider, mais elle s'était retrouvée sur le sol, elle s'était mise à vent. Il maudit. Tout d'un coup, les choses avaient l'air bien pire qu'elles ne l'avaient fait quand elles se battaient avec des squelettes.
« Ceux qui ne sont pas maudits avec le signe sombre, bougez vite, sortez d'ici », a commencé l'indécédé. Idan écouta alors qu'il se dirigeait vers le futur pompier, gardant les squelettes restants à portée de main avec sa lame. Il était vrai que les morts-vivants continueraient s'il était tué... Mais s'il ne se trompait pas, la mort n'a - t - elle pas porté préjudice à la santé mentale des morts - morts? Chaque mort était un peu plus près de devenir Hollow. Bien que... Il ne restait plus beaucoup d'options. Il s'est agenouillé et a aidé Emilia jusqu'à ses pieds.
"C'est ton choix, pompier. Fuyons-nous?"
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Name: Idan Graves
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Appearance: Idan is a well-built, light-skinned man that stands just above 6 feet. He has brown hair that has started to recede and a short-cut beard that comes to a point at his chin. He has an always tired look due to bags under his eyes and a large scar on his shoulder.
Preferred Weapon*: Crossbow
Preferred Armor*: Light.
Gift*: The Jester (He claims the card brings him luck)
Darksign?*: Nope
Edit: switched him to light armor.
Also crossbows instead of swords.
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22,852 | 656 | 12 | 762 | 759 |
Nita marchait près de Shirley vers la falaise. Elle pouvait voir des preuves de quelque chose de bien plus intéressant que le combat quotidien avec des squelettes qu'elle était habituée au loin. Ils pouvaient tous les deux le voir quand c'était arrivé, même; il était particulièrement difficile de manquer une telle créature géante venant du sol. Comme avec n'importe quoi, un défi était préférable à la même chose chaque jour, et elle devait étudier l'événement le plus près possible... en chargeant la tête dans la fraye. Elle courut, non seulement avec ses pieds, mais en utilisant les points de ses griffes comme un deuxième ensemble de jambes, veillant à ne pas les enterrer dans le sol. Elle a crié au combat comme elle l'a fait.
Elle se lança sur le côté de la créature, utilisant ses griffes chaque fois que possible pour se tenir, et avancer plus loin dans son dos. La montée était étonnamment moins de travail qu'elle ne l'avait espéré, et elle souhaitait silencieusement que cette chose, quoi que ce soit, soit plus difficile à tuer qu'elle ne l'était. De son dos, elle tenait avec ses pieds et une griffe entre ses côtes, et travaillait avec l'autre pour essayer de séparer les os - tous les os qu'elle pouvait. C'était beaucoup plus un défi, beaucoup pour elle.
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Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
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22,853 | 656 | 13 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley a essayé d'attraper Nita avec un bras tendu avant qu'elle ne se précipite, mais elle n'a pas été assez rapide. Elle voulait aider ces autres personnes, mais s'y précipiter était rarement efficace. Elle soupira et la poursuivit, bien qu'elle arrivât sur les lieux un peu plus tard. Elle a été assez récemment maudite. Sa belle peau regardait maintenant le frêne et commençait à peler ce qui deviendrait la peau moyenne non morte. Ce changement l'a attristée. On l'appelait souvent jolie, et elle aimait son apparence. Eh bien, elle avait l'habitude, c'est-à-dire. Aujourd'hui, elle portait la capuche de sa robe rouge, couvrant son visage dans l'ombre.
Elle a attrapé le talisman attaché à sa ceinture et a apporté à son côté, le tenant des deux mains. Elle a levé les mains, les tordant autour de la boule de lumière qui sortait de son talisman et l'a poussée vers la jambe du géant, ou du moins ce qui ressemblait à sa jambe. "Émets la force!" Elle n'avait vraiment aucune idée de ce que c'était. Son but, cependant. C'était juste pour l'équilibrer. Il ne semblait pas quelque chose qui pourrait bouger rapidement, et s'ils pouvaient l'abattre, peut-être qu'ils pourraient gagner du temps pour formuler un plan ou trouver un point faible pour le vaincre.
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Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,854 | 656 | 14 | 562 | 223 |
Pendant un moment, Emilia n'a senti que le terrain dur qui l'a poussée contre son contreplaqué. C'était la fin, pensait-elle. Elle sentirait une piqûre froide et puis rien. Mais elle a ouvert les yeux. Ce n'était pas comme elle le soupçonnait. Les squelettes ont été repoussés. Aucune force écrasante n'avait usé ses camarades à bras. Ils se battaient et gagnaient. Mais il y avait cette créature hideuse qui avait commencé à émerger de la falaise. Thalesin a immédiatement appelé ceux qui ont été maudits dans une vie non morte pour l'inculper. Emilia n'était pas sûre de ça. Ils pouvaient facilement descendre le sentier et s'éloigner de la créature. Il n'aurait pas le temps de le rattraper.
Avant qu'Emilia ne puisse rappeler Thalesin et commander une retraite, quelqu'un d'autre est apparu. Un étranger, facile à manœuvrer vers la créature, qui s'était installée sur le flanc de la falaise pour observer les repas exposés. La femme qui s'est précipitée creusait dans le corps, faisant crier la créature dans la douleur. Ténébreux, entaché de sang jaillit des blessures. Les cages thoraciques qui protégeaient le corps étaient facilement écrasées par la force, que les griffes manifestaient alors qu'elles creusaient de plus en plus profondément. Cependant, un problème s'est rapidement posé. Un deuxième étranger, un Mage sans aucun doute, parlait Miracles vers les articulations. La créature était toujours accrochée à la falaise, soutenue par ses griffes creusant dans la roche.
Ils laissèrent lentement partir de la force brute poussée sur eux, écraseant et écrasant les muscles à l'intérieur. Avec une tentative désespérée d'enfoncer la queue dans la roche, la créature ralentit sa descente douloureuse. Il rugissait alors que les jambes étaient boiteuses et les bras s'emparaient de la mission de tenir la bête à la falaise. La distance par rapport au sol était trop élevée pour que la créature puisse résister à une chute plus importante.
"Nous nous battons", a parlé Emilia, bien que l'hésitation ait ramené ses mains à sa lame. Elle a jeté un regard sérieux sur Idan avant de regarder la falaise. "Si cette bête tombe, elle ne survivra pas."
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Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,855 | 656 | 15 | 180 | 812 |
Bien si nous nous battons tous, je suggère au moins ceux marqués par le signe sombre essayer de prendre la plupart de son regard, pour le distraire des autres. Nous reviendrons du moins de la mort avec raison, si pas bien du moins nous sommes morts d'une mort honorable à quelque égard, Thalesin dit, se déplaçant vers la bête, haleter hors, et bouclier levé. Il a esquivé une griffe de l'une de ses griffes vicieuses. Il a résisté à l'attaque avec son halberd atterrissant un coup sur son dos. Bien qu'en laissant une blessure décente, elle ne faisait qu'enrager la bête, elle semblait plutôt la blesser beaucoup.
« La seule façon de s'en débarrasser est d'arracher ses misérables griffes des rochers », a dit Thalesin en entendant Emilia. « Que ce soit par magie ou que quelqu'un se rapproche alors il serait sage d'être. » Il se porterait volontiers volontaire pour aller de l'avant et être le seul à le faire, mais il a laissé le choix s'attarder en l'air pour voir quels autres plans pourraient venir des autres.
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Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,856 | 656 | 16 | 2,312 | 259 |
Idan s'attendait à ce qu'Emilia appelle à une retraite, mais son regard se glissait devant lui. Il se retourna, craignant le pire, mais la vue qu'il vit le surprit. Une autre femme se liait à la chose comme une bête sauvage et sauta dessus, la déchirant avec des griffes sur ses mains. Une autre femme se tenait sur la falaise au-dessus avec un talisman dans la main. Quoi qu'elle dise, ça a affaibli les jambes de la créature et elle est tombée. Il s'est tenu sur la falaise avec ses bras.
"Nous nous battons", a dit Emilia. Idan a hurlé et s'est levé jusqu'à ses pieds. Pour l'instant, les deux nouveaux combattants étaient de leur côté et il espérait qu'ils continueraient d'être après cette bataille. La bête était maintenant accrochée au rebord, et leur compagnon non mort se rapprochait. S'il pouvait prendre un coup de feu, il débloquait son arbalète et tirait un boulon pour le carquois sur sa hanche pour recharger, puis il prenait le but, puis s'arrêtait. La femme griffée était toujours accrochée à la créature, et vu à quel point Thalesin était proche d'elle, il pouvait tout aussi facilement le frapper. Il a plutôt tourné et tiré sur l'un des squelettes restants, manquant de peu.
"Étranger! Allez à la terre ferme avant que l'un d'entre nous ne l'envoie! » Il a appelé, prenant un second boulon de son carquois et rechargeant. Il s'est agenouillé et a visé le squelette et a envoyé un boulon dans le bassin, le fessant et le faisant tomber au sol et disperser.
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Name: Idan Graves
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Appearance: Idan is a well-built, light-skinned man that stands just above 6 feet. He has brown hair that has started to recede and a short-cut beard that comes to a point at his chin. He has an always tired look due to bags under his eyes and a large scar on his shoulder.
Preferred Weapon*: Crossbow
Preferred Armor*: Light.
Gift*: The Jester (He claims the card brings him luck)
Darksign?*: Nope
Edit: switched him to light armor.
Also crossbows instead of swords.
|
22,857 | 656 | 17 | 762 | 759 |
Au moins ceux-là n'ont pas couru dans la peur. Et son adversaire en valait la peine pour l'instant. Pas comme les autres créatures de la région. Nita aimait aussi ses propres progrès avec elle. Cela ne semblait pas être une menace autant qu'elle l'espérait, mais toujours pas mal. Ce serait probablement plus amusant pour elle si c'était juste elle et son partenaire. Mais ces gens étaient de la compagnie de bienvenue.
Elle a entendu quelqu'un appeler, "Stranger! Allez à la terre ferme avant que l'un d'entre nous ne l'envoie! » Elle n'avait même pas remarqué que ça tombait, pour être honnête. C'était vraiment un défi digne de ce nom. À la recherche d'un bel endroit d'atterrissage, s'il y en avait un, Nita tira ses griffes de la créature, la tenant sur elle seulement avec ses genoux juste assez longtemps pour l'attraper légèrement avec ses mains derrière elle et retourner à l'endroit ouvert sur le sol qu'elle avait remarqué seulement une seconde plus tôt. Après un salut hoche et maladroit dans la direction générale de la voix qu'elle entendit, elle se retourna vers le monstre.
Malheureusement pour elle (dans son esprit, de toute façon), il y avait encore quelques squelettes autour d'où elle a atterri, et autant qu'elle aurait préféré faire la même chose à la créature géante, elle a plutôt frappé un des squelettes dans la poitrine pour se donner un peu d'espace. Si son timing avait été meilleur, elle ne se serait pas lancée à moitié dans le bord de la lance de l'autre. Elle n'a piqué que le bras, mais c'était suffisant pour piquer si elle avait encore tous ses nerfs. C'était certainement quelque chose à apprécier d'être maudit. Ce qui en dit beaucoup, vu combien de temps elle avait déjà eu à gérer ça. Elle a tourné en utilisant le peu d'élan qu'elle avait du coup de pied précédent et a poussé l'autre squelette un peu plus loin. Elle ne les avait pas encore "tués", mais ils ne dureraient pas beaucoup plus longtemps avec une telle foule. Elle a crié à tous les autres, avant de pointer vers la plus grande créature, "Quiconque se sentait héroïque? Ou... l'attention affamée?"
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Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
22,858 | 656 | 18 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley a essayé de tailler tout le monde pour des blessures, mais elle était un peu trop loin pour en faire beaucoup. De plus, elle avait ses propres squelettes pour se débrouiller en considérant maintenant qu'elle était toute seule, avec son partenaire par le géant. (Je ne sais pas combien il y en avait pour commencer avec xD) Elle a caché son talisman à sa taille et a agité son bâton d'une main, l'utilisant comme une arme contondante. Elle préférerait utiliser un sort ou un miracle, mais il y avait trop et trop près pour qu'elle jette quoi que ce soit, donc cela devrait le faire pour le moment.
Elle l'a saisi avec les deux mains, et en utilisant l'élan de twirl, a balayé le bâton dans un grand arc en face d'elle. Il s'agit de trois squelettes dans le temple. Elle a filé sur son talon, sa robe rouge tourbillonnant, pour frapper rapidement deux autres squelettes sur le côté de la tête, avec une bonne quantité de force. De telles attaques ne les feraient probablement pas tomber, mais au moins ça les ferait reculer. Peut-être même assez pour jeter un sort. Elle s'en retourna, tissant son chemin au-delà d'un squelette d'achoppement, et commença à canaliser une grande flèche de l'âme pour tirer sur un squelette.
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Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
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22,859 | 656 | 19 | 562 | 223 |
Le groupe réussit à ramener les squelettes, la plupart d'entre eux étant vaincus ou forcés à fuir. Ceux qui étaient plus près, juste une poignée qui surpassait à peine le groupe, avaient perdu leur fureur à l'apparition du monstre, devenant rapidement rien de plus qu'une masse confuse d'os qui a frappé aveuglément ce qui apparaissait devant eux. Emilia a été surprise de voir les étrangers coopérer avec eux, la femme qui était il y a quelques instants sur la bête sautant avec le simple appel d'Idan.
Bien que la bête n'attendait pas. Avec un rugissement massif, il a soufflé de sa place, griffant qu'il est des farces massives sur le rocher une fois qu'il a atteint la hauteur pour faire face à Shirley. Cette partie gauche de son corps inférieur se penchant contre la partie de la falaise le reste du groupe était et la queue s'inclinant contre elle comme un fouet massif. Les orbites oculaires étaient centrées sur la femme en rouge. La puanteur de pourriture s'est précipitée contre elle. Avec un autre souffle profond, la bête rugissait, les crânes dans les bases oculaires tremblant et dégoulinant l'ooze à la crête. L'herbe a immédiatement perdu, c'est de l'ombre naturelle.
C'était une occasion pour le groupe. Emilia, ayant poussé le dernier squelette vers elle au large de la falaise, regarda le corps de la bête se mouvant et broyant contre le rebord sur lequel ils étaient debout. "Thalesin, tout de suite!", cria-t-elle, se chargeant de l'Undead vers la créature. Son katana a été levée pour un coup rapide et dommageable. La queue fouettée une fois de plus contre la roche, donnant un petit choc au sol près de l'impact.
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,860 | 656 | 20 | 180 | 812 |
Thalesin chargé en avant à la grande bête, esquivant devant un squelette comme il l'a fait. Ils devaient mettre fin à tout ça maintenant. Il avait sa halogénure dans les deux mains prête pour un coup puissant pour livrer à la bête, espérons assez pour au moins aider à déloger la créature de la falaise et l'envoyer en bas du bord. L'odeur s'est épouvantée, et l'odeur ne s'est aggravée qu'à mesure qu'il s'approchait de ce qui pouvait arriver, soit ils réussiraient, soit il aurait à regarder vers l'avant se réveiller au dernier feu qu'il avait vu qui ne serait pas agréable pour le dernier avait été des kilomètres loin. Il espérait qu'ils réussiraient bien que pour ceux qui n'étaient pas morts, ils n'arrivaient pas à revenir à un feu de joie, ils mouraient simplement pour qu'ils aient à réussir, l'échec n'était pas une option.
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Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
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22,861 | 656 | 21 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley a réussi à enlever son sort et un squelette, mais presque immédiatement après qu'elle ait été frappée par le souffle du géant. Elle a couvert son nez et sa bouche avec sa manche. Il n'a évidemment pas fait de dommages réels en plus de rendre difficile à respirer, "Bonté! Avez-vous mangé du Dung Pies?... Pas d'attente, le Dung Pies sent mieux! »
La puanteur semblait s'attarder, et il était difficile de respirer et de se concentrer sur ses sorts. Shirley a essayé de trébucher loin de la zone... maintenant malade pour prendre de l'air et respirer à nouveau. Sinon, juste cette odeur pourrait faire s'évanouir quelqu'un par manque d'oxygène. Elle se demandait pourquoi la bête la poursuivait. Était-ce attiré par le rouge? Ou était-ce le signe noir? Ou c'était juste parce qu'elle était la plus proche? Ou peut-être que c'était de l'amgry sur elle de sa force d'émigrement. Peut-être que c'était les quatre. C'était difficile à dire.
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Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,862 | 656 | 22 | 2,312 | 259 |
Avec les squelettes tout sauf partis, Idan a concentré son attention sur la bête. Il a coulé son ooze au-dessus du sol et il a brièvement souhaité qu'il ait quelque chose pour couvrir son nez et l'épargner de cette odeur terrible. La femme sur la falaise ci-dessus semblait en avoir le pire, alors qu'elle s'éloignait de la bête tout en couvrant son nez. Il a brièvement envisagé de charger les bêtes avec les autres, mais il serait presque inutile et il serait plus probable qu'il soit juste dans le chemin. Au lieu de cela, il chargea de nouveau son arbalète et étudia la créature, à la recherche d'une sorte de zone vulnérable. Il a décidé sur les yeux et a pris le but.
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Name: Idan Graves
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Appearance: Idan is a well-built, light-skinned man that stands just above 6 feet. He has brown hair that has started to recede and a short-cut beard that comes to a point at his chin. He has an always tired look due to bags under his eyes and a large scar on his shoulder.
Preferred Weapon*: Crossbow
Preferred Armor*: Light.
Gift*: The Jester (He claims the card brings him luck)
Darksign?*: Nope
Edit: switched him to light armor.
Also crossbows instead of swords.
|
22,863 | 656 | 23 | 562 | 223 |
Avec le groupe qui se chargeait ou qui s'éloignait de la bête, l'environnement se taisait, à part la forte respiration de la bête et les bruits de grondement, chaque fois que la queue frappait le rebord sur lequel la bête s'appuyait. Alors que le boulon s'enfonçait dans l'air, frappant dans la masse des crânes, Emilia atteignit la bête et creusa la lame dans le corps. En plus de frapper les os et la peau, la lame a creusé sans problème, tirant noir, le sang non mort de la bête.
Ça a crié. L'ooze s'est infiltré à travers la blessure dans la prise oculaire, faisant de grandes gouttes du liquide qui sent l'horrible odeur. La tête se brossait contre le sol et se déplaçait pour chercher l'attaquant, pointant Idan juste sur le rebord ci-dessous. La piqûre plus loin sous le corps a été ignorée. Avec un souffle profond, le corps de la bête grandit un peu, alors qu'il tomba, des griffes prêtes à percer la roche. Il s'accrochait à la corniche le groupe principal était debout sur, une griffe très proche de frapper Emilia. Avec un autre rugissement, la bête a pulvérisé l'ooze de ses yeux.
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,864 | 656 | 24 | 180 | 812 |
Surveillez le ooze, Thalesin dit rouler d'où il était, quelques instants avant que le ooze frappe où il était debout. Cette bête ne mourrait pas, du moins pas aussi facilement que Thalesin l'avait espéré. Thalesin chargé une fois de plus, passer à sa hache et viser l'un de ses pieds griffés qui se sont accrochés au bord dans l'espoir de pirater à travers elle et le faire perdre sa prise et retomber dans l'abîme d'où il vient. Bien que la puanteur fût insupportable de la créature non morte, surtout celle qui s'y rapprochait, il dut presque retenir son souffle pendant qu'il gronda à la créature pour au moins suffocer semblait être une meilleure option que d'avoir à respirer dans la puanteur.
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Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,865 | 656 | 25 | 562 | 223 |
La créature a tenu les attaques que le groupe leur a lancées. Emilia, étant proche de la bête et prêt à frapper, visait les griffes qui étaient juste à côté d'elle. Avec Thalesin attaquant l'autre, la bête fut stupéfaite, attristée par l'attaque. Shaking avec la force de quitter le corps, la bête a donné un autre rugissement, avant que les griffes libéraient la corniche. En regardant la chute de la bête, Emilie est restée sur place, en portant son katana et en hurlant avec approbation.
"Ça aurait dû prendre les choses en main, n'est-ce pas?", elle murmura, regardant le groupe. Il y avait deux nouveaux visages qu'elle ne connaissait pas. Des voyageurs comme eux, peut-être. Elle s'inclina devant les étrangers et sourit. "Emilia Tepez. C'est agréable de rencontrer des visages fortunés qui ne se battent pas."
"Et tu as pénétré nos terres!", une voix aboie au groupe. En suivant le sentier plus loin vers le bas du rebord, un homme blindé se tenait là, faisant face au groupe avec sa main sur un sac qui se reposait à sa ceinture. Il ressemblait à un grand sac à bandoulière, mais il semblait qu'il y en ait plus de quelques-uns qui s'échappent d'eux. « Qu'est-ce qu'un tel groupe de voyageurs fait dans les pays des hérétiques? Pourtant, seuls les morts-vivants traînent-ils avec eux?"
Emilia affronta l'homme et se prosterna devant lui. "Ces hommes et ces femmes sont mes compagnons. J'ai été envoyé par les Seigneurs de Lordran pour aider l'affaire en cours dans ces pays. On m'a ordonné d'établir les flammes pour les gens qui vivent ici." L'homme en face d'eux secouait, son corps tournait lentement. "Alors tu es venu au mauvais endroit. Notre royaume est oublié par les Dieux. Tu ne devrais pas être ici."
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,866 | 656 | 26 | 762 | 759 |
Avec un florissant, Nita s'inclina devant l'autre voyageur qui se présenta comme Emilia Tepez. "Je suis Nita. Et pas pour distraire un guerrier comme toi, mais cette bête était... inhabituelle. Même par ici." Elle s'est levée, enfin, en s'assurant de tenir ses griffes de telle manière qu'elle aurait toujours l'air menaçante, mais pas antisociale. "Mon partenaire et moi--" Elle a vite été interrompue par une voix qui n'appartenait à personne qu'elle pouvait voir du groupe. Il a parlé de la terre abandonnée par les dieux, quelque chose qu'elle ne pouvait jamais croire.
"Monsieur, en tant que tierce partie intéressée, croyez-vous que nous deux," Elle a agité son bras griffé dans la direction générale de Shirley, "étaient ici pour contester cette revendication? Les feux eux-mêmes sont damnés, je voudrais apporter une autre forme de salut pour ceux non-morts qui ne s'accrochent plus à leur santé mentale. Nous accepterons tout autre but que vous pourriez avoir, même si au moins je n'ai pas l'intention de quitter ces terres. Je paierai ma dîme directement à qui ces terres appartiennent. »
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Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
22,867 | 656 | 27 | 791 | 175 |
Dieu merci, combattre, c'est une chose. Le faire en essayant de survivre à cette puanteur en est un autre... Shirley a dit, prendre un grand souffle d'air frais. Elle a travaillé jusqu'au groupe pour vérifier les blessures, maintenant qu'il n'y avait pas de menace immédiate. "Bon de vous rencontrer... je suis Shirley. Shirley Meridia..." dit-elle avec un petit clin d'œil, tout en essayant de cacher son visage avec le capot de sa capuche.
Shirley soupira et secoua la tête, "Est-ce que nous pourrions les sauver, mais il semble qu'ils soient trop loin pour être sauvés, tout comme moi et l'autre marque sera. Tout ce que nous pouvons faire, c'est nous battre pour notre vie et essayer de trouver un moyen de les aider. » Cependant, elle se méfiait des paroles de l'homme. 'Forgeotten by the Gods...' elle s'est encore ridiculisée alors qu'elle cueillait un petit morceau de peau déchiquetée sur sa joue. Sa belle peau sans défaut... Ils ont vraiment été oubliés? Ça semblait possible. Cette terre était en enfer maintenant. Mais elle ne pouvait pas croire ça. Non, elle doit garder sa foi, son espérance, forte. Il doit y avoir un moyen de guérir ça.
|
Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,868 | 656 | 28 | 180 | 812 |
Oui, c'était bien de rencontrer des compagnons de voyage, mais nous devrions hâter Emilia, à moins d'attirer plus d'attention pour tout ce qui pourrait encore rester ici, Thalesin a dit avant d'entendre la voix d'une autre personne, un homme blindé qui semblait apparaître de nulle part «, juste parce que certains d'entre nous sont morts-vivants ne signifie pas que nous manquons d'une volonté de vivre. Nous ne sommes pas encore creux. Tant que notre espoir demeure, nous avons une chance et cela vaut la peine de nous battre contre cette malédiction. Maudits dieux pour tout ce que je m'en soucie, tant que je fais ce que je vois est juste, alors c'est assez de rédemption pour ce chevalier non mort. » S'il y avait des dieux, Thalesin n'avait pas d'amour pour eux, ils laissaient l'humanité affronter cette malédiction là-bas sans aide. Pourquoi devrait-il faire preuve de compassion pour eux?
« Nous avons toujours une mission qui doit être terminée et nous sommes là pour le faire », a-t-il ajouté sur un ton de fait, en gainant sa hache. Cette mission ne pouvait pas échouer, qu'il était certain, non pas pour l'amour de la flamme, mais pour son propre bien, pour sa propre santé ", Maintenant, comme je l'ai dit Emilia, il est temps que nous nous déplaçions."
|
Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,869 | 656 | 29 | 2,312 | 259 |
Idan regardait que la créature tombait à sa mort et souriait. Il plongea son arbalète sur son dos et se dirigea vers le groupe. "Mon nom est Idan Gr-" il a commencé, mais un homme est apparu au-dessus d'eux et a parlé. Oublié par les Dieux? Thalesin les exhortait à partir, mais Idan voulait l'entendre sortir.
"Et qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par là?" Il m'a demandé d'aller de l'avant. "Y a-t-il des choses pires à venir? Mes compagnons ici sont plus que capables, et ces nouveaux venus ici ont fait leurs preuves dans mes yeux. » Il a instinctivement atteint pour la carte qui était coincée sur sa ceinture et maintenu sur elle.
|
Name: Idan Graves
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Appearance: Idan is a well-built, light-skinned man that stands just above 6 feet. He has brown hair that has started to recede and a short-cut beard that comes to a point at his chin. He has an always tired look due to bags under his eyes and a large scar on his shoulder.
Preferred Weapon*: Crossbow
Preferred Armor*: Light.
Gift*: The Jester (He claims the card brings him luck)
Darksign?*: Nope
Edit: switched him to light armor.
Also crossbows instead of swords.
|
22,870 | 656 | 30 | 562 | 223 |
L'homme s'est tourné vers le groupe. Ils ont tous exprimé des doutes contre sa déclaration. Son regard, voilé par l'armure, était centré sur Nita. "Vous n'avez aucune idée de ce contre quoi vous êtes. J'ai vu comment tu as combattu le Gryphon. Même avec ce corps est maudit par la même brûlure que vous portez avec vous." Il s'est rapproché du groupe. Le bruit enroulé de son sac résonnait de la falaise, alors qu'il le laissait tomber sur le sol. "Les terres n'appartiennent qu'au roi des Valkyries. S'adresser à lui, c'est s'adresser à la terre elle-même. Et le pays t'a prouvé indigne, étranger. Il marchait plus près des murs de la falaise. Avec un regard constant contre Nita, il a frappé contre la falaise d'effondrement, ouvrant une autre petite grotte dedans. Glinting avec des braises faibles, il y avait un feu de joie.
Il était évident qu'Emilia ne faisait pas confiance à l'homme. Ses yeux étaient serrés et elle gardait une main près de son katana, prête à tirer la lame d'une seconde à l'autre. "Il est préférable que tu te reposes ici et que tu retournes à l'endroit abandonné où tu es né. Même les Valkyries ne peuvent empêcher la folie de résider dans cet endroit. Les Gryphons sont en train de mourir. Le désert s'élève au-delà de ses frontières. L'Ombre avale le monde. Nous n'avons pas besoin de l'aide d'un pompier, ni de son souvenir. Nous avons besoin de quelqu'un pour enterrer correctement les morts une fois que c'est fini."
Le fait qu'il y avait un feu de joie a perturbé Emilia, car chaque feu de joie était l'âme d'un pompier. Elle se dirigea vers l'homme et lui aboita : « Où est le Trône de Saignement? » Une fois de plus, l'homme n'a fait que tourner le regard sur la femme. Il s'est ébranlé la tête. "Je vous ai dit que vous n'êtes pas les bienvenus."
-- Alors arrêtez-nous.
Un soupçon de chanfrein a échappé au casque du guerrier devant eux. En ramassant son sac, l'homme a ignoré les paroles d'Emilia et a marché sur le chemin de la falaise. C'était encore un long chemin vers le bas. Rien que du sable et des arbres peuvent être vus ci-dessous. Le sol était encore trop loin pour voir les détails.
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,871 | 656 | 31 | 762 | 759 |
Nita a gardé son regard sur l'homme pendant qu'il parlait. Elle a attendu patiemment qu'il ait tout dit avant de se parler. Pendant tout ce temps, elle pensait à des mots différents, à des manières différentes de dire des choses pour qu'elle ne fasse pas tourner cet homme sur eux. Elle ne voulait pas se battre contre quelque chose qui pourrait penser clairement, s'il le pouvait encore. Bien que sa force apparente lui ait fait penser qu'il était égal, cela pourrait encore être un défi. "Vous n'avez pas dit votre but. Êtes-vous ici pour livrer la rédemption à ces autres morts-vivants? » Elle n'était même pas sûre qu'il pouvait l'entendre, et elle n'avait pas l'intention d'élever sa voix.
En ce qui concerne Emilia, Nita a demandé à l'homme. "Vous êtes le chef de ce petit groupe? Alors, je vous en tiendrai compte. Voulez-vous qu'on le suive? Ou resterons-nous et nous occuperons-nous des flammes? Je voudrais rendre hommage à la terre... et aux maudits qui ont encore rencontré leur fin. » Elle s'agenouilla sur le sol et murmura rapidement quelques mots tranquillement, et retira son daleflower. Se tenant entre ses mains, elle continua sa prière. Elle ne resta pas longtemps dans la prière, car elle savait qu'il y avait des questions plus pressantes à portée de main.
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Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
22,872 | 656 | 32 | 562 | 223 |
Les mots de Nita frappaient un mur solide. L'homme marchait, mais sa voix se tournait vers elle. « Nous tous, les Chevaliers, avons juré de protéger ces pays, le Roi et le trône. Je ne faisais que te voir hors de ces terres. Quant aux morts-vivants, nous les avons chassés ou tués. Il n'y a plus de Darksigns après cette falaise. Vous seriez le premier et, espérons-le, le dernier à faire un pas sur ce sol. »
Emilia a regardé l'homme gagner plus de distance du groupe. "Si le titre doit être donné, alors je serai le chef, mais mes compagnons n'ont pas été appelés par les Seigneurs, simplement en suivant leur cœur." Elle est passée au feu de joie et a touché le poteau qui s'en est sorti. Les braises scintillantes s'éveillent et la chaleur s'élève des cendres. "Gagnez vos forces, mes amis. Nous poursuivons notre voyage."
Ses yeux erraient vers les étrangers. La foi était une arme forte, sans aucun doute. Mais la prière était plus respectueuse. C'était... comme un pardon. Se sentant touché, le regard d'Émilie s'égara vers l'autre vagabond. Elle était très belle, même avec la malédiction du Signe des ténèbres qui grinçait à son être même. Ça a fait mal au pompier de la voir se flétrir à travers la spirale de la folie. "S'il n'y a pas d'autres objections, nous nous aventurerons."
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,873 | 656 | 33 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley a regardé Emilia allumer le feu de joie et le toucher. Elle a fait la même chose, hésitant à s'attendre à être brûlée. Cependant, en fait, il semblait juste être une chaleur apaisante qui s'écoule sur elle. Ça lui rappelait quelque chose d'apparent à un sort de guérison, mais... différent. Encore.....primal? Peut-être que c'était parce que ses miracles venaient de Dieu et que ce feu de joie n'était qu'une sorte de feu qu'ils se sentaient différents.
Elle a hurlé à Emilia, "Je suis plutôt un suiveur puis un leader. Donc cela rend hommage à tous les vôtres en ce qui me concerne." Elle lui sourit. Elle regarda dans la direction où l'homme en armure était parti. "Tu crois qu'on le reverra? Ou dois-je le combattre?" elle a demandé. Il l'a un peu effrayée. Il avait l'air de garder beaucoup de secrets. Eh bien, tout le monde en a quelques-uns, elle l'aurait cru, y compris elle-même. Mais il semblait avoir beaucoup plus que ce qu'il a laissé.
|
Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,874 | 656 | 34 | 180 | 812 |
Qui sait, mais si nous devons le combattre ainsi soit-il, nous sommes venus jusqu'ici, aucun point de retour en arrière, Thalesin dit regarder le feu de joie ", au moins nous avons atteint ce petit sanctuaire, au moins un sanctuaire pour nous maudit avec le Signe Noir." Il se leva une main vers les flammes, sentant sa chaleur, son confort. Il n'avait aucune idée de combien de temps il avait, combien de fois il pouvait encore mourir et revenir avant que la folie ne vienne et il est allé creux, mais un feu de joie était toujours un bon signe pour lui, un lieu de réconfort au moins sachant qu'il reviendrait ici et sentir sa chaleur de nouveau avant d'entrer dans le monde froid loin de lui.
"Il vaut mieux ne pas s'attarder sur des choses que nous ne pouvons pas contrôler. Si nous le revenons, nous le ferons et si nous ne le faisons pas, nous ne le ferons pas. Cela n'a pas d'importance en ce moment, une fois de plus, seule la tâche à accomplir est importante. »
|
Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,875 | 656 | 35 | 562 | 223 |
Nous le reverrons. Je le sens dans mes os, Emilia a répondu à Shirley. Cet homme était un protecteur, un gardien. Il serait probablement venu tôt ou tard quand un autre événement gênant se passait. Peut-être le rencontreraient-ils dans la bataille contre une bête comme le Gryphon... Lentement suivant le sentier plus bas sur la falaise, Emilia se sentirait bientôt plus à l'aise pour marcher sur le sol, sans le risque de tomber à chaque muscle. Le chemin était large, mais le sol était encore plus éloigné que le corps ne pouvait le faire en tombant.
Même s'il était plus sûr d'avoir plus d'entreprise, le pompier ne savait pas à quoi s'attendre des deux nouveaux arrivants. Son regard errait vers Nita, qui semblait être celle qui guidait la prêtresse. "Qu'est-ce qui t'amène à ces terres, Nita? Est-ce vraiment l'acte de rédemption que vous cherchez ici? » Ces mots s'accrochèrent à son esprit, même après qu'elle les eut prononcés. Bien sûr, peu de gens ont plongé dans le pays des célèbres Valkyries. Seules les légendes et les rumeurs ont parlé des hommes et des femmes qui pouvaient voler dans la bataille avec des ailes qu'ils avaient eux-mêmes cultivées. Peut-être que ces voyageurs cherchaient le secret de ce pouvoir.
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,876 | 656 | 36 | 762 | 759 |
Ils se déplaçaient tous de nouveau, quelque chose que Nita préférait. Ce n'était pas comme si elle restait à un endroit aussi longtemps qu'elle l'avait fait, mais encore une fois, elle n'avait pas l'habitude d'avoir quelqu'un de sain d'esprit autour de qui parler. Elle a gardé ses griffes sur ses bras en marchant. C'était plus sûr, même si ça voulait dire que ses mains seraient mal à l'aise. Et avant trop longtemps dans la marche, le chef du groupe qu'ils avaient rejoint lui a posé une question. "Je... ça en fait partie. Mais je ne cherche pas la rédemption pour moi-même. Je ne veux pas voir les autres souffrir. J'aime penser que je peux peut-être mettre fin à leurs vies pour de bon. Finalement. C'est agréable d'avoir de la compagnie, cependant."
Elle n'était pas sûre de ce qu'elle avait dit était logique pour personne d'autre, pas plus qu'elle n'était particulièrement sûre qu'elle y croyait vraiment. C'était ce qu'elle voulait avant de mourir la première fois. C'est pour ça qu'elle avait commencé à voyager. Elle n'était pas sûre de ce qu'elle croyait. Elle croyait en les dieux, il y avait suffisamment de preuves qu'ils avaient existé. Elle n'était pas sûre qu'ils l'aient encore fait. Elle croyait en son but... au moins un peu. La seule chose qu'elle croyait honnêtement maintenant, c'était qu'elle n'aimait pas être morte.
|
Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
22,877 | 656 | 37 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley les a froncés alors qu'ils marchaient sur le chemin : « Je prie pour qu'on ne... il ait pas l'air très dangereux... mais je suppose que vous avez raison. Il n'a aucun sens de s'inquiéter pour lui en ce moment." Elle soupirait.
Elle a hurlé et souri à Nita, "De plus, vous n'êtes pas du genre à vous coucher et à abandonner de toute façon. Je pense que s'il y avait des rumeurs d'un remède que vous chercheriez jusqu'à ce que vous ne puissiez plus chercher..."
|
Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,878 | 656 | 38 | 562 | 223 |
Il y a un remède pour tout, Emilia murmura, alors qu'elle écoutait attentivement les deux étrangers. Il semblait qu'ils étaient vraiment une paire aventureuse. Ils n'avaient pas le même air pour eux. Comme un meurtrier a le sang d'innocents sur ses mains, chaque personne a lui-même peint à l'intérieur de son corps. Ce que le pompier a vu en eux, c'était de la lumière et de l'espoir. Quelque chose qu'elle voyait rarement chez les hommes et les femmes des pays qu'elle avait parcourus. Avant de dire quoi que ce soit, elle a fait un pas dans les sables mous. Désert. De vastes océans de sable.
"La Foul ressort..." La femme des épées ne pouvait pas croire ses yeux. La falaise qu'ils avaient montée les conduisit à une vaste étendue de sable. Parfois, le paysage était agité par des formations rocheuses qui sortaient du sol. Le vent qui soufflait à travers la région meulait du sable dans chaque crevasse. La lumière du soleil n'était rien, mais une faible paillette dans le brouillard de sables qui semblait couvrir le ciel.
"Nous pourrions avoir besoin de plus que de force pour nous aventurer." Emilia regarda ses compagnons. La couverture de son casque est tombée et a caché son visage derrière une masse de fer et de cuir. Cela a empêché le vent de souffler du sable dans son visage, mais elle a été épargnée la douleur griffante des grains creusant dans sa chair.
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,879 | 656 | 39 | 180 | 812 |
Ainsi, nos véritables épreuves ne commenceront pas quand nous traverserons cet océan infernal de sable et de chaleur, Thalesin dit s'éloigner du feu de joie. Le sable soufflant a produit un bruit de clinking constamment ennuyeux contre l'armure qu'il était dedans, mais il l'a ignoré.
"Quelle que soit la question des bêtes et des âmes tordues que cet endroit contient, nous verrons bientôt que je suppose, aucun voyage n'est toujours aussi facile à attendre des ennemis qui se cachent dans l'attente de ceux qui y traversent les terres. La question demeure cependant de savoir dans quelle direction nous nous dirigeons, s'il s'agit d'un océan de sable, alors il sera facile de se perdre et de ne jamais trouver notre chemin hors de sa portée. »
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Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,880 | 656 | 40 | 762 | 759 |
Après une profonde respiration, Nita sourit. "Ce serait bien que tout finisse. Je n'ai probablement plus beaucoup de temps avant que ce ne soit plus un problème. » Elle a dit ça avec bonne humour, mais elle savait au fond, c'était probablement vrai. Mais cela signifierait toujours la liberté d'une certaine manière, ne pas avoir à s'inquiéter des pensées mesquines ou même de la survie. Vraiment, ça ne pourrait pas être si mal d'être fou. La mort serait mieux, mais la folie est assez proche. C'était vraiment une pensée réconfortante pour elle, un fait qu'elle a vite pris et a frissonné.
Peu de temps avant qu'ils n'atteignent le fond de la falaise. Le sable a piqué le visage de Nita. Elle s'est convaincue que ce serait pire si elle n'avait pas déjà été morte, mais elle était sûre que cela rendrait ce fait plus évident si elle ne couvrait pas sa peau exposée. Elle lâcha ses griffes et les accrocha à ses hanches avant d'atteindre son sac et de sortir son capuchon en fourrure, une écharpe et quelques gants. Après les avoir toutes mises et tirant le capot vers le bas de sorte que ses yeux ont montré à travers le filet sur les yeux de l'ours qu'il a été fait, elle a hurlé à son compagnon de voyage et son nouveau groupe. "Je suis sûr que si la dame vous a guidé vers ces terres, elle sait où elle va. Je suppose qu'elle a prévu d'aller de l'avant."
|
Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
22,881 | 656 | 41 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley a froncé, "Oh, ne dis pas ça, même en plaisanterie, Nita. Je ne pense pas que devenir fou serait autant une libération que vous pensez...en dehors, où serais-je sans vous?"
Quand le sable les a frappés, elle en a eu une partie dans son visage avant de pouvoir tirer sa manche large vers le haut pour couvrir son visage. Le sable piqué, surtout là où sa peau s'était détachée. -- Eh bien... dit-elle en marchant, je suppose que je devrais être heureux de pouvoir encore sentir quelque chose.
Elle a hurlé, et a regardé Emilia, "Oui, j'ai supposé que tu savais où tu allais aussi... tu ne sembles pas perdu, mais qu'est-ce qui t'amènerait dans ce désert?"
|
Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,882 | 656 | 42 | 562 | 223 |
Emilia savait que ce voyage fournirait des problèmes dont ils ont besoin pour s'occuper. Le désert devant eux était vaste. Il y avait du sable sur les trois horizons et la falaise sur le dos. En avant, le pompier a respiré profondément. "Ce sera mon devoir de vous protéger, Nita. Votre malédiction ne prendra pas le meilleur de vous, ni votre ami sur le même chemin. S'il y a vraiment un remède au Signe obscur, alors je le trouverai avec vous."
Elle a regardé Thalesin et l'a agité. "Nous avons la direction des Seigneurs. Ils nous ont donné un don très précieux pour nous faire traverser cet endroit infernal. » Elle a pris un petit sac de sa ceinture et l'a ouvert, révélant une orbe scintillante, pas plus grande qu'une pomme. Il brillait comme des étoiles dans une nuit sombre, mais les lumières bougeaient. Elle a remis l'orbe à Thalesin. "Cela devrait nous conduire à notre destination. L'étoile la plus brillante mène le chemin dans le ciel de la nuit et elle nous guidera avec cela."
Elle avait déjà vu l'étoile à l'intérieur de l'orbe. Il s'éloignait de la falaise, vers les sables inconnus. "Je soupçonne que ces terres ne sont pas faites pour de simples hommes. Je ferais vite... J'ai peur que nous rencontrions plus de bêtes comme celle de la falaise. »
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,883 | 656 | 43 | 180 | 812 |
Est en sécurité pour les simples hommes de ce jour et de l'âge, Thalesin murmura en regardant l'orbe ", Eh bien alors cela aidera je devine, mais je ne fais pas confiance à vos Seigneurs, je laisserai ma foi en ceux que je connais."
Quand il avait rejoint cette expédition, peu savaient qu'il venait entièrement d'un autre royaume, de l'autre côté de l'océan. La peste non morte était aussi rampante qu'ici quand il est arrivé. Il parlait peu de son royaume d'origine, ne souhaitant pas discuter des événements qui mènent tragiquement à sa corruption et maintenant à sa disparition. Il regardait à travers les sables du désert. Si c'était vraiment sa tâche et son but, il aiderait à les faire passer. Il pouvait être pessimiste mais il avait l'espoir qu'ils le feraient, la foi en ses propres Dieux et Seigneurs qu'ils le feraient.
-- Faraam, garde-nous en sécurité, dit-il lui-même avant de remettre l'orbe à Emilia, et que ceux qui cherchent à nous détruire aient un sort grizzli en réserve pour eux.
|
Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,884 | 656 | 44 | 762 | 759 |
Nita a hissé vers l'avant, vers le désert. "Ce n'est pas vraiment le moment de douter de quoi que ce soit." Elle lui a arraché les mains et en a arraché l'un d'eux. "Maintenant, nous devrions suivre celui que vous avez été embauché pour protéger. Ou ai-je mal compris votre mission?" Elle sourit, mais elle savait que personne ne pouvait le voir. « Cette mission est ce que nous devrions nous préoccuper de nous-mêmes, quels que soient nos objectifs individuels. Tous dériveront de ce voyage ce qu'ils veulent. Pour ma part, j'espère qu'aucun ne sera contre nous. Ceux qui le font verront la miséricorde dans la mort. Et pour leur bien, je prie pour que ce soit la dernière fois qu'ils le voient. »
Elle marchait légèrement devant les autres, s'arrêtant avant qu'ils ne soient hors de sa vue. "Si nous ne partons pas, il n'y a pas de voyage. S'il n'y a pas de voyage, notre temps est perdu. Nous devons bouger."
|
Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
22,885 | 656 | 45 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley a cligné à l'orbe. "Ok, mais... comment savez-vous que c'est vrai? Qu'est-ce que c'est exactement? Je veux dire, comment savez-vous que ce n'est pas juste pointer dans une direction aléatoire ou même pointer du tout? Comment savez-vous que ce n'est pas juste une décoration? Je pense que nous devrions nous arrêter un moment et nous expliquer ce que vous savez à propos de cette orbe..."
Elle a suivi juste derrière le reste, en soulevant l'arrière, mais pas beaucoup. Elle ne voulait pas se séparer. "Je prie pour que vous sachiez ce que vous faites Emilia. Vous pourriez facilement nous aider à réparer nos malheurs... pour toujours perdus dans le sable..."
Shirley a froncé et frissonné, "Et si nous rencontrons plus de ces... choses. Nous devrions probablement concevoir un plan pour l'enlever. Nous n'aurons probablement pas la commodité d'une falaise pour la repousser...."
|
Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,886 | 656 | 46 | 562 | 223 |
Bien sûr, Emilia était consciente des informations douteuses et brumeuses qui lui étaient données par les Seigneurs de Lordran. Elle était consciente que l'orbe était quelque chose qui n'était pas très confiant, mais elle croyait aux paroles qui lui ont été données. Elle a placé l'orbe dans le dos, une fois Thalesin l'a examiné. Sur les paroles de Nita, Emilia commença à errer vers la direction que l'orbe l'avait guidée. Pourtant, après quelques pas, il y avait un doute. Shirley, la prêtresse, la compagne de Nita, s'inquiétait du voyage.
"La clairvoyance n'est pas accordée à beaucoup d'hommes. Même les plus grands magiciens se sont perdus en voyage. Ils ont forgé des bijoux qui devraient éclairer l'esprit et la vue. En perte, de tels bijoux vous ramèneraient sur la bonne voie. » Sa main errait dans le petit sac dans lequel se reposait l'orbe. C'était en effet l'une de ces reliques sacrées par les mages. "Et une prière vaut vraiment la peine en ce temps de besoin. Moi aussi, je prie pour que je suive la bonne voie. »
Leurs environs ont commencé à se déplacer en une masse de brun et de jaune, incohérent de tout détail qui pourrait apporter n'importe quel sens de la direction. De temps en temps, on pouvait distinguer une des formations rocheuses avec lesquelles ce désert était en proie. Ils ressemblaient à des griffes qui s'emparaient du ciel. À partir de ces rochers, le vent fit un bruit de hurlement, comme un enfant qui pleurait pour ses parents, un jeune amour qui appelait le partenaire perdu. C'était un ton très froid, sombre par rapport à l'environnement autrement chaud. Même dans ce monde rude, Emilia marchait avec des pieds stables. Elle connaissait la direction et avait rarement à regarder l'orbe pour voir si le groupe était tombé du sentier ou non.
« Si une telle bête s'attarde sur ces terres, nous avons l'espace pour l'entourer. Des lances sur les côtés de la bête et des épées sur le devant. Coupez la queue, si vous osez être courageux." Telles étaient ses paroles, quand Shirley exprima ses craintes à l'égard de la bête qu'ils avaient combattue à la falaise. Elle avait aussi peur de rencontrer une telle bête.
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,887 | 656 | 47 | 180 | 812 |
Ah, si seulement mes camarades étaient ici, il s'est bourdonné en marchant avec les autres à travers ce royaume de froid et d'obscurité, bien que ce fût un désert. Il reministe à l'époque où il combattait à côté d'une bande de guerriers puissants, tous avec des compétences propres, l'un d'eux étant son propre amant. C'était les jours avant que la malédiction n'ait trouvé son chemin vers son royaume, un temps de paix et de célébration, un temps où le roi se mariait et gagnait une grande guerre contre de puissants ennemis à travers les océans qui mentaient à ses frontières. Cette paix n'a duré que si longtemps jusqu'à ce que les choses s'effondrent. Ses amis, il ne savait pas ce qui leur était arrivé en plus qu'ils ont été soufflés dans toutes les directions du royaume pour l'aider à le défendre, avant qu'il traversât ici pour sa propre quête. Il espérait revenir un jour, mais au fond de lui, il savait qu'il était trop beau pour être vrai pour y espérer un retour en toute sécurité, le royaume était tout prêt à être perdu avant qu'il ne parte chercher un remède à sa détresse. Si les autres vivaient, il doutait qu'ils resteraient là.
Il secoua la tête pour sortir de sa transe. Il n'y avait pas de temps pour s'inquiéter du passé, seulement l'ici et l'aujourd'hui. Pour accomplir son devoir.« C'est vrai, une autre bête serait dure ici, mais au moins maintenant nous savons ce que nous sommes contre dans ces pays. Ce voyage n'allait jamais être facile, nous savions que lorsque nous avons commencé et que nous le savons maintenant, a-t-il répondu, nous devons avoir le courage de nous battre, nous devons avoir le courage de survivre et d'aller de l'avant.
|
Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,888 | 656 | 48 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley a dit : "Je préférerais éviter tout combat si possible... plus de ces... choses en particulier." Elle soupira: "Parfois j'aurais aimé avoir passé plus de temps à étudier la sorcellerie, je parie qu'un de ces sorts de haut niveau pourrait ne pas engloutir de sueur. Ou peut-être l'une des lances d'éclair les plus fortes... » elle secoua la tête, « Espérons juste que le prochain, s'il y en a un, n'a pas d'armée de squelettes par elle. »
Elle a couvert son visage avec une manche comme elle a suivi derrière Emilia. « Je ne vois rien avec tout ce sable... n'y a-t-il rien qu'on puisse faire pour rendre ça un peu plus facile? »
|
Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,889 | 656 | 49 | 762 | 759 |
Enfin content maintenant qu'elle bougeait, Nita sourit un peu. « Éviter la bataille serait mieux pour nous pour l'instant. Nous n'avons pas les ressources nécessaires pour un long combat. Et mon amie va écraser son beau visage. Aucun d'entre nous ne voudrait ça." Elle ne savait pas si c'était une déclaration sérieuse ou un sarcasme, mais elle n'avait pas à s'inquiéter de l'interpréter. "Et je ne pense pas que la sorcellerie fournirait autant de pouvoir que les dieux nous donnent. Du moins pas sans coût pour notre santé mentale. Ou morale. En parlant de cela, avez-vous envisagé d'utiliser ce que vous avez pour la magie divine pour la retenir un peu?" Elle laissa un petit rire, et retourna à son partenaire de voyage d'origine pour la protéger de ses propres mains; elle espérait que les griffes auraient une certaine protection supplémentaire pour son amie, bien qu'elle doutât que la différence était suffisante. "Est-ce que ça t'aide?"
|
Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
22,890 | 656 | 50 | 562 | 223 |
Tout le monde avait peur de rencontrer une de ces bêtes à nouveau. Il n'y avait pas de blâme, car cette bête était une abomination de taille monstrueuse et elle était capable de tuer facilement, de ce qu'elle semblait être. Parmi eux, Emilia avait le plus peur. Elle était sûre qu'elle ne pouvait résister à une lutte contre aucun de ses compagnons, en particulier ceux qui peuvent revenir de la mort.
L'écouter leur parler l'a calmée, même s'ils parlaient tous de stratégie. Cela signifiait qu'ils étaient capables de se défendre. D'abord, ses yeux suivaient Shirley et comment Nita la soutenait à travers la tempête de sable. "Nita a raison. La magie n'est utile que jusqu'à ce que le lanceur ne tombe pas dans sa lutte." Soupir, Emilia a continué le chemin, n'étant pas utile à la prêtresse. Il doit y avoir un moyen d'échapper à la tempête de sable. Peut-être pourraient-ils s'installer dans l'une des formations rocheuses et attendre qu'elle se termine. Un regard bienveillant a été donné d'Emilie à Thalesin. "Vos compagnons doivent être de braves guerriers, mon ami. Qu'est-ce qui leur est arrivé?"
La marche a continué, même avec l'inconfort de Shirley. Emilia suivait le chemin fourni par l'orbe clairvoyante qu'elle portait. Après un certain temps, une autre formation rocheuse est apparue. Il était plus grand que la plupart de ceux que le groupe avait vu et il était directement devant eux, s'élevant toujours plus haut plus près qu'ils paraissaient. Une fois dans l'ombre massive, la tempête de sable s'est abattue autour du groupe, sous la main protectrice des rochers. Devant eux se tenait une autre personne en armure. Une femme sans aucun doute. Elle ne portait pas de casque, seulement des cornes tressées dans ses cheveux. Elle se penchait contre les rochers, à côté d'un feu de joie, il fait froid aux cendres et pas de feu. Emilia regarda la personne, ne voulant pas allumer le feu de joie avant qu'elle ne sache avec certitude qui était la femme.
"Greetings, tra-...", la femme de l'épée a commencé, mais l'étranger devant eux aboie un rire et s'interrompt avec "Évite tes coutumes, pleure. Maelstrom n'était pas aussi convaincant qu'il le pensait. Je vous dirais de vous laisser, mais vous avez traversé le désert sans aucun mal. Vous devez vraiment croire en vous-mêmes pour aller jusqu'ici. Vous avez de la chance, je vous le donne."
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,891 | 656 | 51 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley a froncé à Nita. Elle devrait savoir que c'était un sujet sensible pour elle maintenant, "Je suis presque sûr que c'est déjà merdé, Nita..." elle soupira, puis sourit. "...et ça fait un peu, mais je ne vais pas te faire marcher avec ta main devant moi tout le temps. Ça a l'air stupide et ton bras va se fatiguer en un rien de temps. Je suppose qu'une force ou peut-être une barrière magique pourrait être en mesure de l'empêcher, mais je ne suis pas sûr comment je ferais pour que tout le monde et pendant si longtemps.... sans doute je me lasserais peu de temps après avoir commencé."
Elle a levé un sourcil à l'étrange femme contre le rocher, "Oh, grand un autre... nous sommes venus ici pour une raison et nous ne partons pas avant que nous le voyons fait... à moins que vous ne connaissiez un autre moyen de guérir la Malédiction."
|
Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,892 | 656 | 52 | 762 | 759 |
Avec un shrug, Nita a largué ses bras à contrecœur. "Trop longtemps et tu peux emprunter mon capot." Elle ne voulait pas vraiment laisser le sujet tranquille, mais étant donné le temps qu'il lui a fallu pour accepter son destin, elle ne pouvait pas blâmer son compagnon pour s'être inquiétée à ce sujet. Elle a passé une année entière à accepter que ses blessures ne guérissent pas, et les deux autres s'inquiétaient de ne pas se blesser davantage. La troisième fois, elle a décidé de ne pas s'inquiéter de son apparence réelle et a pris sa nouvelle personnalité, ce qui l'a finalement amenée à trouver sa cause actuelle. "Je doute que tu..."
Elle a arrêté de parler quand elle a vu l'étranger sur le rocher. Elle attendait que les autres parlent, et elle espérait qu'ils ne rendraient pas les choses pires. Puis encore une fois, cela pourrait empirer pour tous à tout moment, quelles que soient leurs actions. Elle avait cessé de faire confiance aux gens avec des cornes il y a longtemps, mais elle voulait au moins leur donner une chance de parler. Elle n'était pas au-dessus de l'espoir de changement. « Nous espérons que notre mission n'interférera pas avec la vôtre, et que la vôtre interférera avec la nôtre. Maelstrom était le vagabond avec les armes? Je suppose que cela signifie que vous partagez sa mission. Comme je lui ai dit, nous ne voulons pas manquer de respect à notre passage. »
|
Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
22,893 | 656 | 53 | 180 | 812 |
Thalesin marchait en silence. Outre les dernières fois qu'il avait parlé, il avait été jusqu'à ce point un voyageur silencieux aussi. Il avait l'impression d'avoir peu en commun avec les autres, il venait d'un endroit au-dessus des mers, ils étaient différents de lui encore un dans le même. La malédiction s'étendait plus loin qu'une seule terre. Il avait été dans sa tête quand le nouvel étranger sur le rocher apparut devant lui. Ils semblaient cependant ne pas se soucier beaucoup d'eux comme l'homme avant qui apparemment devait être appelé Maelstrom. Il n'a pas prêté beaucoup d'attention à la conversation. À moins qu'il n'y ait un combat, il n'avait pas besoin de s'inquiéter de quelqu'un de nouveau qui semblait juste donner le même avertissement que les autres. Tourne-toi, c'était toujours pareil. Je ne trouverai jamais de remède, je ne survivrai jamais. Encore et encore c'était la même chose que d'autres disaient dans la quête de ceux qu'ils avaient rencontrés. Il avait appris à bien les régler. Si seulement il avait encore sa communion de ses patries.
|
Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
|
22,894 | 656 | 54 | 562 | 223 |
Les lèvres de la femme se fronçaient dans un mauvais sourire, en écoutant les paroles qui venaient à la fois de Nita et de Shirley. "Oh, je me sens tellement soulagée que tu ne veuilles pas interférer avec notre mission... Pourtant, vous êtes la mission. Nous sommes les gardiens de ces terres. Maelstrom aurait dû vous le dire." Elle s'avança, ses bottes creusant dans la terre, comme si elle portait le poids de deux géants. Si ses pieds restaient à la surface du sable, elle serait facilement au-dessus de la plupart des personnes présentes. Maintenant, elle atteint la même hauteur qu'Emilia, qui ne regardait que la femme avec méfiance, étant donné la façon dont elle n'avait été que d'attitude négative.
"Prietess, il n'y a pas de malédiction dans ces pays- Ne pense même pas à ouvrir ta bouche, pleurnicher. Vos feux étaient la raison pour laquelle les Ténèbres ne peuvent pas laisser ses prises de notre Roi bien-aimé." Elle a dirigé son regard et un doigt pointant sur Emilia, qui en fait essayait d'expliquer leur raison. Elle s'est sentie stupéfaite, attaquée par la façon dont la femme agissait encore. D'une certaine manière, la voix de la femme menaçait, voire menaçait.
Elle aurait continué son approche et son assaut de menaces pour le groupe, mais une autre bête s'est levée d'un sommeil. Le sol secoua un moment, en déplaçant un peu les sables, comme une bête de vers sortait des sols pas trop loin. Vu sa taille, il pourrait sauter sur un chien et le manger entier. "Peut-être que vous pouvez vous prouver au moins utile. Tuez le Wyrm. Peut-être que je te verrais comme digne." Elle est passée au feu de joie et s'est assise, refusant de laisser quelqu'un le toucher.
Emilia soupira, se tournant vers le groupe. Comme il parut, la bête n'était pas hostile pour l'instant, se précipitant simplement dans les sables d'une manière semblable à celle d'un serpent. Parfois, il se submergeait dans les sables et sautait hors de lui, la mamelle de la créature de ver s'ouvrant comme une fleur, révélant les dents de rasoir à mi-chemin dans les mâchoires béantes. Il semblait être lent, comme dans les gens étant capables de suivre la bête sans difficulté. « Je ne vois pas de raison de tuer une bête qui n'essaie pas de nous faire du mal », a parlé Emilia à la femme au feu de joie. En réponse, le pompier a reçu un autre sourire tortueux, mais rien de plus.
|
Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,895 | 656 | 55 | 791 | 175 |
Shirley a froncé l'étrange femme, "Les gens sont une bonne chose d'avoir quand on demande à un étranger une faveur que vous savez... Aussi, comment? Le... Wym, tu as dit? pourrait juste se cacher sous terre chaque fois que nous l'attaquons..." cela semblait être une tâche inutile pour elle. Il n'y avait pas beaucoup de gens dans le désert, donc ce n'est pas comme si cette chose était dangereuse pour eux. L'étrange dame voulait la mort.
Cependant, il semblait que le feu de joie était inaccessible jusqu'à ce qu'ils tuent la bête. Elle a froncé à Emilia, "Que devons-nous faire? Il ne semble pas qu'elle nous laisse toucher le feu de joie jusqu'à ce qu'on le tue."
|
Name: Shirley Meridia
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Appearance: Obviously in undead form, but I think she'd make even an undead look cute...
Preferred Weapon*: Staff, I guess? She’s a healer. She'll be using a lot of miracles and some spells.
Preferred Armor*: Cloth
Gift*: Divine Blessing
Darksign?*: Yes
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22,896 | 656 | 56 | 762 | 759 |
Le nouveau venu a fait sourire Nita. "Vous êtes les gardes? Pourtant, nous sommes la mission? Si c'était une menace, tu l'aurais cherché. Il semble que vous aimeriez que nous fassions votre travail pour vous, ou simplement que nous soyons trop distraits pour faire le nôtre. » Elle tenait ses bras sur le côté, mais pas directement offensant, même avec ses griffes. "Ou souhaitez-vous que nous soyons distraits pour que vous puissiez nous sortir pendant que nous nous battons?" Elle a croisé les bras derrière elle. "Parce que je n'ai pas envie de me battre. Je n'ai pas non plus envie de me battre contre toi. Je vous demande de nous laisser poursuivre notre mission. A moins que vous ayez un but plus élevé? Si vous avez une plus grande mission, je voudrais l'entendre peser sur qui sert le plus grand bien. »
Elle ne voulait pas faire croire qu'elle allait trahir ses compagnons. Elle n'avait aucune envie de les combattre non plus. Elle ne pouvait pas laisser un seul but l'empêcher d'accomplir quelque chose qui pourrait être encore mieux pour eux aussi. "Nous ne demandons qu'un passage sûr pour l'instant. S'il vous plaît, permettez-nous d'utiliser le feu de joie, puis continuez sur notre chemin." Elle a gardé ses bras derrière son dos, mais les a préparés au cas où cette femme se préparait au combat. Elle espérait que ça n'arriverait pas, mais elle pourrait facilement être aussi folle que les morts qu'elle combattait depuis des années.
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Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
22,897 | 656 | 57 | 562 | 223 |
Regarder le groupe divertir la femme, alors qu'elle restait assise au feu de joie. Elle a pointé une fois de plus vers le Wyrm, la bête qui traversait encore les sables comme si c'était de l'eau pour un poisson. "Il doit respirer, comme toute autre créature. Si vous-", elle a essayé d'expliquer, mais elle a arrêté le moment où elle a entendu Nita parler. Soupirant, la sabreuse s'est levée. "Permettez-moi de l'expliquer une fois de plus. Nous protégeons ce royaume. Ces terres appartiennent au roi des Valkyries et vous êtes des intrus, surtout ceux qui portent la peste avec eux. »
Le Wyrm a crié en haut, sautant une fois de plus hors du sol. C'est le corps qui s'est écrasé contre un rocher, faisant que la bête s'arrête sur sa piste pendant un moment. Câlinant sur la roche et foulant son corps, la bête s'est cassée autour d'elle. Le rude mouvement poussa rapidement le corps hors de la roche, ce qui permit à la bête de rouler à travers les sables.
Emilia écouta la femme et regarda la bête avec inconfort. Elle pensait que ce royaume était ébranlé par des bêtes et des cutthroats qui essayaient de tuer le groupe à chaque pas. C'était une épreuve différente. Des créatures qui n'étaient pas hostiles et des gardiens d'un royaume perdu qui leur disent seulement de partir. Passant à Shelly, le pompier a froncé. "Je le crois..." Elle dessina sa lame et regarda la bête bouger. Le Wyrm était déjà à une bonne distance. Rattraper ça serait facile, mais fatigant. "Et si on ne se bat pas?", Emilia demanda à la femme. Sa réponse était claire. "Je vais vous forcer à quitter ce royaume, alors." En ce qui concerne son groupe, Emilia cherchait une réponse à la question à l'intérieur de sa tête, qu'il s'agisse de tuer la bête ou non.
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Name: Emilia Tepez
Age: 30
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Katana
Preferred Armor*: Light
Gift*: Twin Humanities
Darksign?*: No
|
22,898 | 656 | 58 | 180 | 812 |
Eh bien, on n'est pas venus si loin pour rien, donc autant tuer ça ne devrait pas? Thalesin a dit ", ou nous tuons la jeune fille que je ne me soucie pas vraiment qui mais nous sommes venus à loin pour abandonner maintenant et être refoulés par un avertissement et une menace insignifiantes."
Il n'a pas prêté attention au protecteur du feu de joie, il n'aurait pas voulu la tuer et la bête, mais mieux vaut ne pas faire d'ennemis dans des pays inconnus. Comment elle a traité ceux maudits bien qu'il l'ait malade et l'a fait vouloir mettre sa hache dans son crâne. Elle a fait croire qu'ils avaient le choix avec cette malédiction, qu'ils l'ont eu volontairement. Elle ne savait rien si elle pensait ça et était une idiote. Il espérait peut-être un jour qu'elle en était affligée et qu'elle était creusée, une chose indescriptible à dire, mais à penser que ce n'était pas si mal.
"Ne jamais jeter de côté l'espoir, car l'espoir est ce dont nous florissons. Car quoi d'autre pourrait arrêter un mort-vivant en plus de son manque de volonté de continuer?" Thalesin dit, une devise de l'alliance qu'il avait suivie dans ses patries.
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Name: Thalesin Drogoth
Age: 36
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Preferred Weapon*: Prefered would be axes. Carries a halberd, crescent axe, talisman, and shield
Preferred Armor*: Medium
Gift*: Ring of Frost
Darksign?*: Yes
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22,899 | 656 | 59 | 762 | 759 |
Nita soupirait. Elle ne voulait pas se battre. Cependant, la femme en face d'eux avait donné plus de raison pour qu'elle se batte que la créature. Cette femme semblait aussi être plus un défi. Mais elle n'agissait pas seule, elle avait des ordres à suivre. Il semblait que le chef du groupe ait choisi de combattre la wym. Elle acquiescerait. Cela pourrait être considéré comme une menace, et peut-être même s'avérer un défi intéressant. Une pensée resta cependant à l'arrière de son esprit : cette femme honorerait - elle cet accord? Ou l'attaquerait-elle alors qu'ils étaient distraits par la wym? Ça pourrait être un piège. Mais ce n'était pas à elle de le suggérer, et la femme n'avait montré aucun signe qu'elle allait aider la créature. Elle devait se demander si toutes les grandes créatures qu'ils devaient tuer à partir de ce moment-là allaient être accompagnées par ces gens, cependant.
-- Alors, nous combattons la bête? Elle a parlé à Emilia, mais s'est également adressée à Shelly pour approbation. Personne ne semblait particulièrement sûr de ce qu'il fallait faire. Elle envisageait de charger la bête, mais elle n'avait pas envie d'être mangée tandis que les autres tenaient leur terre dans la peur... ou quelle que soit l'émotion qu'ils ressentaient. Incertitude.
|
Name: Nita, Bear Paladin
Age: 26
Gender: FemalePreferred Weapon: Claws (fists), but has a rapier sheathed parallel to her waist on her back.
Preferred Armor: Light
Gift: A Daleflower
Darksign?: Yes (since only one other approved character has it, iirc)
Anything missing? Anything you'd prefer to see? Anything you want me to change?
|
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