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Post by Silver on Jun 17, 2020 9:53:54 GMT
Name: Arétina Crosse
Alias: The Silverite Maiden
Title/Ranks: Captain of Ostwick
Race: Human
Age: 39
Nationality: Free Marcher
Accent: Ostwick
Faith/Philosophy: - I am a devout Andrastrian, I may not be of the cloth that denotes the Templar order but I believe in their righteous cause! Ostwick City is my domain and I will allow no one to ever undermine me!
Class: When I was old enough to pick up a sword and shield, that is what I stuck with and always will. A shield to protect the innocents and a sword to punish the wicked.
Specialization: I am a champion of the people, I need to say no more.
Gender: Female
Sexuality: That is of no concern of yours.
Behaviour/Psychology: I am not an easy woman to please, you anger me and you will face a reckoning beyond your comprehension. I will see justice is met no matter the cost! No one will ever get in my way! No one and I mean no one, will ever stop me from reaching my dreams and goals. I don't suffer fools nor do I suffer those who deem themselves incorruptible and pure. We all have a darkness in our hearts, I am just ready to admit it and use it to its full advantage...
Physical Description: How dare you!? What kind of question is this to ask me!? I am the Captain of the Guard, no! I won't allow you to know such things. I will allow you to see my sword plunged into your skull if you ask me again!
Biography: My past is of no concern to you, all you need to understand is I will obtain what I want in life. What is it that you may ask? Absolute control over my destiny, no one will steer me from my rightful path.
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Post by Silver on Jun 17, 2020 9:55:06 GMT
Name: Rosaline Owlain
Alias: I haven't had the pleasure of being granted such a thing yet.
Title/Ranks: Guardswoman
Race: Human
Age: 28
Nationality: Nevarra
Accent: Ostwick
Philosophy: I can't really say I follow any specific philosophy really, I like to think I follow the right path and do right by the maker and its teachings.
Class: I wield an average sized sword and wear a mix of medium and heavy armour so you tell me?
Specialization: I make sure the sword goes in stabby end first and I'm good with my legs and kicking?
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Behavior & Psychology: I'm a girly girl at heart, what I wouldn't give for prince charming to come along and whisk me off my feet. I do have someone in mind of course but he'll never see me that way but I won't give up! I am a very stubborn woman after all
Physical Description: I'm your average height generic brunette with brown eyes, there isn't really a lot to say about me. Though I do apparently have rather large breasts... not that they even work to my advantage and honestly I bind them down most of the time so no one really knows. I want it to be a surprise for the man I fall in love with.
He'll be getting ready to do the deed and I'll undo my bindings and go fwbam! How do you like these girls!? Although is it really a surprise If I'm writing this down? Who is going to be reading this!?
Biography: My family is apparently descended from a long line of servants that served the royal house in Navarre but then some kind of uprising happened and my side of the family evidently settled in Ostwick when I was a little girl. Honestly I don't really remember much of my childhood. The majority of what I do remember has been solely focused on someone I consider my closest friend yet what I want hasn't really mattered yet but a girl still can't give up hope.
Some may say I have an unhealthy obsession with the man but you can't fight true love... even if it is one-sided.
*sigh*
I don't think I want to write any more here.
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Post by Silver on Jun 17, 2020 10:17:06 GMT
9:41 Update (For his previous char sheets, look here hall-of-the-gods.freeforums.net/post/624) Name: Reid Ashwell
Alias: Nope, after 8 years I still don't have one.
Title/Ranks: Former Enchanter
Race: Human (I still have elf blood in me because you know, my elven father?)
Age: 30
Nationality: Rivaini
Accent: Rivain, even though I've only been in my native homeland for a year I've lost all semblance of my fereldan accent.
Faith/Philosophy: - Despite the world going tits up and demons falling out of the sky and the Chantry tearing itself apart from within. I do still believe in Andraste and the Maker. Even though the Maker can be a bit of an arse. We are heading to uncertain times, the rumours of this inquisition do give me hope but who knows what will happen.
Class: I'm still a Mage, just a lot more physically imposing but I'm not adept beyond using a staff in close quarters if I have to. I have pondered whether to try and learn knight enchanter talents but...eh
Specialization: I'm still the most adept with Force and Spirit magics but I have branched out a lot more into destruction based spells, especially Ice Magic. I still have nothing on my sisters destructive power, although I am keen on studying the rifts who knows what I could learn if I can manipulate it without ill effect... alas one step at a time.
Gender: Male
Sexuality: After a lot of soul searching I have come to realise I am still a homosexual man, no more and no less.
Behaviour/Psychology: I am still the good natured bearish Mage you've all come to know and love, my sense of humour is still fairly dry and my sarcasm is as witty as ever, at least I think it is. I may be slightly more jaded and down to earth than I used to be but when you've been put through the shit I've had to endure, well you see what you get.
I'm not as flirty as I used to be though given my past relationships I am a little burned off that kind of love for now. Though I have found something equally as important to care for, though you'll just have to read a chronicle I wrote so you know. I can't tell you everything on this sheet of paper, it won't let me write that much!
Physical Description: I'm still 6ft 5" tall, I'm as physically imposing as I've always been if a lot fitter, I have abs instead of a flat stomach now I'll have you know. I dare say I've bulked up considerably / become more muscular, I can actually take a punch now! Being 100% reliant on magic isn't the way to go in this world any more.
My hair is still dark brown and my eyes are still the colour of amber, I also still apparently stand out in the darkness due to the apparent glow in my eyes. Oh I do however have a thicker beard now, I think it really adds to my whole rugged look. I'm still as hairy all over as I remember, however the portrait I got done on my 30th. Lets just say I don't trust Orlesians to paint me any more!
I still have and maintain my Wolf Figure Staff, it is what I like to think of as my trademark. I have recently upgraded it again with a reinforced pole and pommel. I've redesigned it in a way so that it looks more like a walking stick at a glance, helps to blend in you know.
As I said early, I got my portrait painted for my 30th, got it done in Orlais. However the guy who painted it didn't tell me he decided to omit my bodyhair out of some form of protest, the nerve of that guy! Needless to say he did not get paid a tip! But other than that the likeness is perfect.
My gear looks a little something like this. Although a bit more reddish brown and autumn like in colour.... Also I don't know who this man is but his hair just lacks something, I can't put my finger on it and also he just looks plain weird like he's made out of clay. It's not a painting is it?
Biography - The end of 9:39 and all of 9:40 and until the chaos that erupts in 9:41 will be covered in my new chronicle book, as for the rest. Refer to the thing I wrote up at the top, whatever it is. I'm told its a magical portal of some sort.
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Post by Silver on Jun 17, 2020 10:19:40 GMT
OOC: For those who are going to be part of the Aeonar quest, I would recommend reading the story that leads up to this moment <-- Link to Character Chronicles.
I pick up the pen, dip it in the ink, then begin the arduous task of completing the sheet.
Name: Rayne Lucina
Alias: None
“Vedir, do you think it counts that I held the title of Enchanter whilst in the Circle?” “I think it might be best not to mention that,” he agrees. Title/Ranks: None
Race: Human
Age: 29
Nationality: Free Marcher
“Do I have an accent?” I ask. “Not really, but you do have a lovely voice.” I blush a little. “Well, thank you, but I don't think that counts.” Accent: None
Faith/Philosophy: None. I've been given no reason to believe that anyone looks out for us in this life. I feel Vedir's hand briefly rest on my shoulder. I don't know whether he's saddened by this comment, or by the events that led to this belief.
Class: Mage
Specialization(s): I just do whatever is needed to win a fight.
Gender: Female
Sexuality: “Vedir, did you add this line in here?” I sternly ask. “Upon my honour, that's not my doing,” he replies with a chuckle. “However, do bear in mind that this sheet is used for all types of professions. I'm sure it's relevant to certain types of work.” “Well, it's not relevant to this job, so I see no reason to fill that out.”
“Is this section really necessary?” “Well, you're asking people to join you on a dangerous mission. It might be a good idea to let them know a little about yourself.” Behaviour & Psychology: I'm trustworthy and honest, and can hold my own in a fight. I'm quite a sociable person, but I don't talk much about my private life.
Physical Description: I have shoulder length black hair, green eyes, and I'm about 5'7. I tend to wear cotton or silk tops and leather trousers. Usually I'll have on a long black sleeveless coat that reaches down to my ankles. It's made of a soft flowing material and embroidered with silver. “I think you're closer to 5'8, Rayne. Also, you failed to mention your curvy body.” I slap Vedir's arm. “I don't think my body, curvy or otherwise is relevant to this.” “Well, with you being rather tall, they might be looking for a beanpole of a person. If you state your body type it might avoid any confusion.” “Look, if you're not going to be helpful, I'll finish this when I get to an inn.” He puts on a sad face. “I thought I was being helpful.” I bite my lip, trying not to laugh at his woebegone expression, but when I see the next line, all desire to laugh leaves me.
“I don't think I'm comfortable telling strangers my life story.” “That's understandable. Just give the basics, my dear.” Biography: I was raised in the Kirkwall Circle. As there is no longer a Circle, I suppose I'm an apostate now. I'm looking for people to join me on a quest. I don't care about your class, race, or gender, just as long as you are honourable and know how to fight. The pay will depend on how many people are hired, but I can guarantee it will be worth your time. If you are interested, please meet me at the bar at 8am.
“Well, that's certainly the basics,” says Vedir with a chuckle.
OOC: If you wish to continue reading their story, then it's back to the Character Chronicles. <--Link
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Post by Silver on Jun 17, 2020 10:21:37 GMT
To the family of Marlon,
It is with great regret that I write to you now, in the wake of this horrible tragedy that has befallen our Empire. The treacherous Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons has taken up arms against our beloved Empress, abusing her trust and loyalty in order to further his own gain. As a result, many good and honest men died trying to protect her outside of Halamshiral, and while they were successful in saving her from harm, the news has stricken us all with grief and sorrow.
So it is with pain in my heart that I must inform you that your beloved Marlon was among those slain on the field of battle. An archer as greatly disciplined and honorable as any man in the Imperial army, Marlon showed his strength and valor many times over, including when he helped put an end to the vile elven rebellion in Halamshiral - but none of those times greater than when he gave his life in service of our Empress, cut down by those unfit to wear the Orlesian armour. It is in his memory that we must keep our loyalty to our Empress, and promise to bring this war to a swift and justful end.
I give you my condolences, and together with you I mourn for this needless loss of life.
With deepest regret, Marquis Pellantaise of Ghislain
Name: Marlon (French pronunciation)
Alias: -
Title/Ranks: Archer in the Imperial Army of Empress Celene Valmont
Race: Human
Age: 25
Nationality: Perendale (see Biography)
Accent: Nevarran/Orlesian
Faith/Philosophy: Andrastean
Class: Rogue, archer
Specialization(s): -
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Homosexuality
Behaviour & Psychology: Marlon is a soldier, loyal and disciplined to the core. Quiet to strangers, but more out of necessity than character. It is a time of civil war, after all, and enemies to Celene are everywhere. More true to his personality, Marlon is known by friends and family to have a sarcastic/ironic sense of humour, and a great love of telling stories - about his home more than anything, because Marlon and his family are originally from Perendale, which is an innate source of pride for him. They don’t like hearing that you’re actually Nevarran in the army, though, and neither does Marlon himself - to him, Perendale is as Orlesian as it gets - which has caused him to slightly shift his accent towards Orlesian in recent years and tell everyone that he’s from Ghislain - although, now that he’s trying to lay low, he’s tried reverting to the Perendale accent he used to employ.
Physical Description: Dark-skinned, 6ft. Short, equally dark hair, with brown eyes. Strong archer’s build. Has traded the Imperial tabard for highwayman clothes, but he owns a purple piece of cloth that functions as a scarf to put over his mouth and nose - Marlon’s own little way of showing his loyalty to the Empress even now.
Biography: Marlon was born in Perendale to commoner parents, who brought him up with tales of the war and the might of the Orlesian empire. When Marlon was six, they actually moved across the border to Ghislain, following a business dispute that cost Marlon’s father - a tailor - his shop. In the following years, life treated them well, and Marlon grew up to be a healthy young man. Still, it came as a bit of a surprise to anyone who knew him that Marlon joined the Ghislain city guard, given that everyone had thought him to take over his father’s business, but that surprise soon turned into pride when Marlon became a soldier in the army only a few years later, at the age of 22. The Mage/Templar war was already brewing at the time, and the expectation was that he’d serve in a campaign against arcane dissidents, but history of course proved otherwise. Instead, it was the elves of Halamshiral against which Marlon was asked to take up the bow; and gladly he did so, in service of his country. That too did not go as expected, however, as we all now know. Outside of Halamshiral, the Empress’ army was led into an ambush by Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, a single action that would spark the civil war that is fracturing the Empire even now, today. To those who knew him, Marlon was presumed killed in that initial battle… but as if by miracle, he survived. For a while now he has been hiding out in enemy-controlled countryside, slowly recovering from wounds inflicted in battle and biding his time. Currently, Marlon has taken up with bandits and highwaymen for a while - not the course he thought his life would take, and some would even call him a deserter for it, but Marlon knows that he’s only trying to make his way back towards the army, and further service under the Valmont banner.
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Post by Silver on Jun 17, 2020 10:26:37 GMT
Name:Emma Jäger
Alias: I do not possess one, my name is fine enough isn't it?
Title/Ranks: I'm a adventurer I guess? Honestly, I just travel. I help out here and there for some coin, you know how it goes.
Race: *looks herself up and down* Pretty sure I am one hundred percent human.
Age: Asking a woman her age? tsk tsk tsk, well whatever, I'm 29
Nationality: If you can't tell from my accent then you need your hearing checked, I'm from Navarra
Accent: Read my above entry.
Faith/Philosophy:I believe in the Maker I suppose, gives people some comfort at night. I don't really think much about it, I am far more concerned where my next meal is coming from. As long as I have a nice warm bed, a handsome man to curl up next to and several hot baths and meals when I please I will be a very happy woman.
Class: I learned court fencing from my mother, she claims she's from a highborn family in Orlais somewhere though not sure whether I really believe her but either way I'm a dab hand with a rapier and I've learned where all the vital points are, though really I just stick them with the pointy end and then they tend to go down. Oh and I'm not half bad with a bow, though my aim could be better.
Specialization: I'm a good dancer? Makes me nimble? I don't really know what this bit is on about.
Gender: Well... *looks down and pats her chest.* I have an ample bosom *she casts her gaze further down* and I don't have a penis so...I'm clearly a woman? Seriously this form is ridiculous.
Sexuality: I enjoy the male gaze, seeing a thick muscled man with a nice thick chest and strong arms and broad shoulders, a tight waist, a firm bubble butt, thick thighs, and a thick and big... *drools* I'm so sorry, I drooled on the paper a bit. What was I talking about?
Behaviour/Psychology: I like to think I'm a kind and caring woman, I'll do right by people if they do right by me. Though I do not suffer fools lightly and won't hesitate to call someone out if they are being an absolute prick. I'm as honest as they come and I will be blunt so I hope you're ready.
Physical Description:I'm 5ft 9" I believe, so I'm decently tall for a woman. I have shoulder length hair, though I keep it in a tight braid it is kept in place by a rose red ribbon, a gift from my mother, don't want it getting in the way during a fight. My hair is of a chestnut colour, I really quite like it and I have amber eyes.
Given how much I travel, I prefer to wear comfortable thick black boots with a slight heel and comfortable yet durable pants. I wear a white tunic with a partially open chest kept closed with brown thread along with a dark brown bodice underneath to keep my breasts stable. Its real pain in the ass if you're running and your chest is smacking about, and my chest is only ample!. I do wear a little eyeliner to make my eyes stand out and very faint eyeshadow.
Example of her hairstyle
Biography: I grew up Navarra's capital, my father worked as a blacksmith and on occasion to save us money he worked as a hunter and ventured outside the capital to feed us. My mother throughout my life claimed to be of royal blood but I don't really put much faith in that. I know she did come from money, albeit its all gone now and she was disowned after marrying my father but he honestly doesn't really speak of it much. All he really ever told me was that he saved her from a life of misery, which only made me speculate more.
I'd think it be quite funny a girl such as me having some royal blood in me though of course given how that all works I'd suppose I'd be a bastard child. When I turned 21 I left the comforts of the city and set out on my own to see the world that I had only read of in books. I still make sure to write to my parents to let them know I'm doing okay but I do wonder if I'll reach a point where I no longer write them?
I travelled to the far north of Thedas, not quite going beyond Rivain. As tantalising the qunari males are, the whole Qun thing really does not appeal to me. I finally decided to turn my eyes south and explore the land of the dogs and also the land of the fops and dandys oh and I mean Orlais when I say that. I don't dislike Orlesians but the way their upper class act is downright nauseating.
Now as for Fereldan, they have some very nice thick sturdy men and they love dogs so whats to complain about? But yeah, my leisurely journey has of course been interrupted by the sky tearing itself open and demons pouring out everywhere. So, here I am.
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Post by Silver on Jun 17, 2020 10:28:43 GMT
Name: Remy Senecio
Alias: None
Title/Ranks: Sadly, none. I could have worked my way up to the rank of Master within the Antivan Crows, but alas.
Race: Elf
Age: 29, or thereabouts.
Nationality: Antiva
Accent: Antivan
Faith/Philosophy: Andrastian
Class: Rogue
Specialization(s): I like to try a bit of everything, it adds spice to the fight. Like cooking, si? You throw in a bit of poison or throw in a small knife, such things add flavour, you understand? Of course, you do. My weapons, ah, they are a thing of beauty: two silver longswords, wonderfully curved with Elvish enchantments inscribed into the blades.
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Men, most definitely men. This is why I did not do well in the Crows. They found that I just couldn't get as excited with a woman as I could with a man. I tried, merda, did I try. There were herbs, potions, although I drew the line at blood magic. Madre de Maker, what a silly solution. But, alas, it was all to no avail. I see a man and I'm ready, willing and able, as many men will, no doubt, attest to. But, put me in a room with a naked woman and the yeast in the bread fails to rise, there's no wind in my sails, my camper refuses to pitch its tent, my soldier refuses to stand to attention. Personally, I saw no issue with this, there are plenty of men out there willing to bed the women of the world, but, alas, the Crows were not so understanding.
Behaviour & Psychology: Well now, this is a fair question. You don't want to be taking some lunatic into a potentially dangerous situation. So, let me reassure any potential employers, I am no lunatic, however, I might be considered a nymphomaniac. But, rest assured, my sexual urges do not get in the way of the job as I never mix business with pleasure. Well, there was that one time, but that is not important. I will be loyal, as long as there is money, and I will fight tirelessly. What more could you ask for?
Physical Description: I've been described as ravishing, handsome, one man even described me as a vision of godliness, mind you, this was after many bottles of wine, so I think that description can be ignored. However, as there may be more than one ravishing fellow in the area at the time, I suppose a proper description should be provided. Long brown hair, green eyes, full lips, and, of course, a pair of pointy ears. I'm 5'7 and have a slim muscular build. Someone once described me as taut, but I believe that was due to the position we were trying out. Maker's balls, that day I found I had muscles I'd never known about. Now, what else do I need to cover? Ah, my armour, well, it's nothing special really. I prefer leather, as do most rogues, and I generally stick with the darker colours, much better for hiding the bloodstains, si?
Biography: I believe I've already mentioned that I was brought by the Crows, but due to my inability to fly the flag for the ladies, they sold me as a slave. Now don't go getting all teary-eyed, I promise it was a good life. Tevinter is a rather pleasant place, or at least it was for me. My master, an Altus, no less, was kind to me, and took a fancy to me, which worked out well because he was delicious. All hard muscles and... well, perhaps it's best not to go into that right now.
However, there came a time when he felt that I should be allowed to explore the world and so he gave me my freedom. Rather a rare occurrence, I assure you, but he was a rare man.
And so, I've travelled around and somehow ended up here, in Ferelden, of all places. Maker, but it's cold enough to freeze the horns off an ogre. And the dogs... they are everywhere, humping trees, humping legs, slobbering all over you. Unpleasant, most unpleasant, but what can you do? When in Ferelden, as they say, so I'm learning to like them.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe that fellow has been eyeing me up for the past thirty minutes, and he's very easy on the eyes.
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Post by Silver on Jun 17, 2020 10:35:49 GMT
Name: I'm Karda.
Alias: Alias? What, like a nickname? No, I don't think I'm called anything else.
Title/Rank: I don't think I can have a rank outside the Qun?
Race: Well.... I have horns. So either I'm a sentient bull, or a qunari. I'm pretty sure I'm the second one.
Age: I'm 20. Yeah, I know, on the young side, but I don't care.
Gender: You can't tell? I'm a woman.
Sexuality: What? You mean do I like guys or girls? Hmm... honestly, I'm not sure. Haven't really felt anything either way. Can I just put 'none'?
Nationality: I'm from Antiva.
Accent: ... Antivan? I mean, what other kind of accent would I have if I was from Antiva?
Faith/Philosophy: Hmm... I'm not really a fan of the Qun, and never really got interested in the Maker and the Chantry. So... none?
Class: I stab people with a big stick that has pointy metal on one end. Does that count as a class?
Specialization: Erm... I... stab people with a big stick with pointy metal on one end? I thought I said this already.
Behavior/Psychology: I'm a pretty happy person. Don't get why people have to be so serious and... well, boring all the time. I want some adventure! No time for people who don't know how to have fun.
Physical Description: I like to think I look pretty normal, for a qunari, but I've had a few people call me 'cute'. Can qunari be 'cute'? We're tall and have horns and ears that look like they couldn't decide between being elfy and humany. That seems like the opposite to me. But everyone has their tastes, I suppose.
Oh, my hair actually goes a bit past my neck when it's straight, but I like tying it up in a bun.
Equipment: Outfit:
My parents surprised me with this before I headed out on my own. I'm still not sure where they found the coin to get this for me. Weapon:
Yep, there's that big stick I mentioned before (yeah, yeah, I know it's called a spear, but it's funnier the way I say it). My mother said she found it when she was younger, but maybe there was more to it? I don't know, but I never brought myself to ask.
Bio: Well, I have a family. Mainly my mother and father. Both of them are qunari, obviously, but they know a lot about the Qun, so maybe they used to be from Par Vollen? Not that they ever told me, but then, it's not like they actively tried to hide it from me. As for me, well, both of my parents taught me how to fight and always told me to be nice to people. Other than that, nothing else really happened. Pretty normal life, aside from being a qunari, and kind of boring, to be perfectly honest. I don't think my father liked that I wanted to leave and go on adventures by myself, but he still encouraged me to try. Just wonder what I'll see out there.
[/spoiler][/font][/font]
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Post by Silver on Jun 17, 2020 11:25:08 GMT
There are times when I wonder why I left Rivain, particularly during moments like this. I'm currently sitting in an office that smells strongly of the stables, horse shit included. Before me sits a spindly, middle-aged man, and it's from him that the ripe aroma emanates. I'm reminded of a verse from a tale told to me by a Rivaini seer: And when you complete all your work in the store, Or stables or cobblers or fletchers or field, It's not just polite to wash off what you wore, If giants can smell you, then your fate is sealed!
Regrettably, this pungent fellow hadn't heard the story. “All right,” he says, fixing me with a contemptuous stare from a pair of pale blue eyes. “Let's go over the details.” I politely smile and incline my head, urging him to continue. I fear this stench will forever be embedded in my nostrils.
He looks down at the questionnaire I've filled in, at his behest, of course. Name: Talon Vadera “So,” he says. “This is your correct name?” I find myself wondering if he has just the one active brain cell; it's the only explanation for why he didn't read more than the first line. I resign myself to the possibility that I could be here for a while. I keep my answer simple. “Yes.”
“Well, what about this?” He frowns as he reads the next entry. Alias: On occasion, I've had to resort to the use of other names, but those are in the past, and I prefer they remain there. “Just how many names have you had?” “All in the past,” I reiterate with a disarming smile. He's not impressed. I'm not surprised; it's obvious that he's a man of poor taste. His shabby clothes make that abundantly clear.
He sniffs and waves his hand in a dismissive manner before turning his attention to the next line. Title/Ranks: I held a rank once, but it's no longer relevant “What was your rank?” I grit my teeth. This fellow is rather annoying. “It really doesn't matter.” His eyes flicker to the sword that protrudes above my shoulder. “Are you a deserter from the army?” I really shouldn't have been so forthcoming on this sheet. How difficult is it to just write none, I berate myself. “No, no. I wasn't in the army. The rank means nothing now and is therefore irrelevant to this conversation.” Perhaps he sees the annoyed gleam in my amber eyes, or perhaps he's just as eager to get out of this small, stuffy office. Either way, he decides to move on.
He skips a few entries which his tiny brain can easily comprehend. Race: Human Age: 28 Nationality: Rivain Accent: Rivaini, though that doesn't mean anything. We don't have any defining lilt to our accents.
He decides to break the silence when he reaches the next entry. Faith/Philosophy: Pantheist “Did you make this up?” I look affronted. “Certainly not. It's a belief in the natural order. In our eyes, god and the universe are one and the same.” He looks perplexed. “That doesn't make sense.” I can't help but chuckle. “I know. Look, I'm not really into being a pantheist, mainly for that reason. If you like, just cross that out and put no faith.” He picks up the quill and makes the amendment. “So, you have no feelings whatsoever towards the Chantry?” “Oh, I have plenty of feelings towards the Chantry,” I say with a smile that's meant to warn him not to ask further questions. “But none of them are good.” Alas, I'd forgotten his pea-sized brain, and with a shocked face, he continues. “But Andraste and the Maker are_” “I'm sure you didn't ask me here to discuss theology,” I say with as much pleasantness as I can muster. “How about we get back to the matter at hand?”
He looks a little disgruntled but readily returns his attention to the sheet in front of him. He reads the next line and his head lifts swiftly, a flicker of fear present in his weak blue eyes. Class: Mage “You're a mage?” I incline my head. “Indeed I am.” His gaze jumps to my sword. “But you don't carry a staff.” He seems to be affronted by this fact. Perhaps he believes it's my responsibility to make known to everyone that I'm a mage. I, on the other hand, disagree; my magic doesn't define me. “Perhaps you should read the next line,” I advise, feeling this might clear up any confusion on his behalf.
Specialization: Arcane Warrior Unfortunately, he looks even more perplexed, if that's possible. “What's an arcane warrior?” I decided to simplify it. “Swords and spells. Rather a snappy name, don't you think? I just made it up.” “You came up with this idea?” “No, that would be the elves,” I say with a surprising show of honesty. “Dirth'ena Enasalin; that's the name they gave it.”
He skips the next couple of lines, giving me a wary stare upon reading my sexual preference. He has nothing to worry about from me; putting aside his reed-thin frame, the smell alone would kill any sexual desire. Gender: Male Sexuality: Homosexual
He continues reading the questionnaire, then raises a disbelieving brow. “Aren't you also supposed to list your flaws?” Behaviour & Psychology: I'm generally easygoing. Live and let live, that's my motto. Except, of course, when I'm being paid to kill someone. Or, when someone tries to kill me. My benevolence is limited. I smile. “My dear fellow, do I look like the sort of person with flaws? Of course, I don't. Now, let's move on.”
The man glares disapprovingly at me. “I hardly think that last part is relevant.” Physical Description: Mid-length black hair, partially tied back. Amber eyes, straight nose, full lips, and a neat beard. In regards to my body, I'm 6,1, with a muscular build. And a nice ass. My weapon and my favourite coat... my only coat, in fact, so it's lucky I like it so much.
“Well, you never know what might sway someone to hire you.” He leans forward slightly. “I think your eyes are more brown than amber.” I shake my finger. “No, no. It's just very poor lighting in this office. In the daylight, they have a rather brilliant golden gleam to them.” He snorts. “I think I've just discovered one of your flaws.” That seems rather rude, but I admit to some curiosity. “Oh, do tell?” “Your immodesty. Quite shameless, in fact.” I wave away his concerns. “Nonsense. Nothing wrong in being aware of your good points.”
Biography: I grew up on the streets of Rivain until I was fourteen. It was then that a Templar decided I would be more suited to a life in the Circle. Everything was going fine until some silly sod blew up the Grand Cleric... or was it the Chantry? I suppose it's all the same, really. I do think he was extremely selfish; not every mage was dissatisfied with their lot in life. Anyway, I soon adapted to living outside the Circle and decided to make some money by becoming an adventurer. Being a circle-trained mage, I have an excellent selection of spells at my disposal.
“You seem rather well-spoken for someone who grew up on the streets,” he says with an air of suspicion. “Well, as you can see, I was taken to the Circle. There I lost my beggarly ways and learnt to appreciate the finer things in life, particularly stylish clothing.” I eyed his mundane beige jacket and trousers with distaste. The only break in the boring colours was provided by a sliver of white from the shirt he wore. I decided it wouldn't be prudent to point out his awful outfit; I was here for a job, after all. “Which Circle were you at?” “I fail to see how that concerns you, but if you must know, I was based in Antiva.” He didn't need to know that I was at Dairsmuid. As far as everyone was concerned, all the mages there had died. A necessary cleansing; that's what the Templars had called it. A massacre of innocents was how I saw it. Man, woman, child, elf or human – it mattered not to the Templars. They were unconcerned with such trivialities, caring only whether one was a mage. I savagely dismissed the unpleasant memories; that was in the past and nothing I could do would bring those people back.
“I think we've covered everything,” the man says, finally satisfied. “You'll suffice.” Oh, joy. My happiness overflows, which is less than can be said for my coin purse. It's why I've tolerated this fool's presence, along with the overpowering smell for the last thirty minutes. “Excellent. So, what is it you want me to do?”
He leans forward and rests his clasped hands on the table. I try not to stare at the dirt beneath his fingernails. By all that's holy, someone should get this man acquainted with a bar of soap. Alas, that task will have to fall to another person, as I have too great a need for this job to make such a suggestion to my new employer.
“There's a bastard by the name of Darrick.” “Ah,” I said, thinking I understood his problem. “Is he making a claim for your business?” The man looks confused. “What? No. Why would he do that?” Now I was confused. “You said he was a bastard. I thought you meant the term in a literal sense.” He glares. “No, it was meant in a derogatory way.” “Oh, then do continue.” He glares for a moment longer, obviously annoyed at my interruption, then continues. “He stole something dear to me.” I made a sympathetic face. “Your wife?” I said, feeling sure I'd got the right end of the stick this time. He disdainfully snorts. “He's welcome to her. But when she left, she took my favourite suit as a gift for her lover.”
I raised a brow. “Is it a particularly expensive suit?” I asked, picturing a set of clothes made from silk and decorated with jewels. “No,” he said, immediately dashing away that image. “But it's extremely comfortable.” “Let me get this straight – you're willing to pay me 20 gold if I recover this suit?” His brows pulled down. “I never said anything about 20 gold.”
I looked down at the piece of paper in my hand. There was most definitely a little drawing of a gold coin next to the amount. Triumphantly, I placed it on the table. “I have it in black and white... and a little yellow.” The man peered closely at the sheet, and then, to my utmost surprise, he flicked away the drawing of the gold coin. “Sorry,” he said. “I was eating a cheese sandwich at the time. I guess some of it got stuck to the paper.”
I sighed, thinking of my poor empty purse. “So, how much are you paying? And please bear in mind, that if you tell me it's twenty coppers, I will be sorely tempted to show you how good I am with my sword.” He gulped and eyed the sword. “Twenty silver.” “How about we make it forty silver?” He slapped a hand on the table, making the quill jump and knocking over the stub of a candle. “That's robbery!” I straightened the candle and watched the spilt wax dry. “My friend, I have sat in this foul-smelling office for over half an hour, and I have allowed you to question me. I did this because I thought I was getting twenty gold. Now, as the piece of cheese belonged to you, I'm sure you'll agree that the misunderstanding was your fault, yes?” “What? Don't be-”
I held up a hand. “Before you finish that sentence, let me draw your attention back to the last line under the biography heading.” I sat back, smiling pleasantly as I waited for him to find the text. A fine sheen of sweat coated his face and I knew he'd located it. He stared at the sheet for a few seconds, obviously contemplating what might be included in my repertoire of spells. Then, he looked up, a tight, nervous smile on his face. “Forty silver.” “ A wise decision,” I said as I took his hand and shook on the deal. “Now, where do I find this incomparable suit?”
A day later, I returned the clothing, which, I regret to say was as ugly as his previous outfit. The fellow was so happy that he actually added an extra ten silver to my pay. Easiest job I've ever had. Unfortunately, it won't last long, so, after a night of celebrating my good fortune, it will be back to looking for more work.
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Post by Silver on Aug 2, 2020 20:45:30 GMT
'Next!' I step up to the heavy wooden desk. The dwarf tugs on his magnificent red beard as he sizes me up. 'Assassin, right?' 'Occasionally. I also do picklock work.' 'All right, let's get the basics out the way. You been to Jader before?' 'Yeah.' The dwarf raises a bushy brow. 'Oh, have you registered before?' 'Yep.' 'You're not very chatty, are you?' 'I'm here to make sure there are no misunderstandings, not give you my life story.' 'Fair enough.' The dwarf pulls open a drawer. 'Last time you were here? 'Cloudreach, 9.40.' 'Name?' 'Shade.' There's a rustle of papers as the dwarf's thick fingers rifle through various files. 'Quenk, Quill.' He mumbles and moves past a few folders. 'Porter, Parrot.' He sighs and pulls out a dead bird. 'Harold, that wasn't funny the first time, and you filed the damn parrot after Porter. What kind of an administrator are you?' A jocular bald man slaps his thigh and laughs, then stops and stares at the dwarf. 'What's an administrator?' 'Not you, that's for bloody certain. Now, stop fart-assing around and get on with your job before you find yourself impaled on the pointy end of my sword.' The dwarf goes back to flicking through the files. 'Rayne.' He looks up at me. 'Did you hear she's getting hitched?' I nod. 'To Vedir Coltor.' The red bushy brow lifts. 'You're bloody well-informed. Few people know that.' I shrug. 'I've had occasion to work with them both before. Also, keeping informed is necessary in this line of work.' 'Aye, that it is.' He goes back to the drawer. 'Reynard, Remy, Salter, Seaton. Ah, finally, here you are.' He drops the folder on the desk and flips it open. 'Right, have a read through and let me know if anything needs changing.' Name: Shade Alias: None Title/Ranks: Lieutenant Race: Human Age: 30 Nationality: Kirkwall Accent: None Faith/Philosophy: No longerClass: Rogue Specialization(s): Archer though I switch to duellist when necessary. Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexuality Behaviour & Psychology: I'm a professional, so if you hire me I will get the job done. If you try to cheat me then you'll be my next target. I'll ask for no more than the agreed price which must be confirmed before an accord can be reached. Physical Description: Deep brown hair with streaks of white. 5'9, slim muscular build, a faint scar around the throat. Biography: Born and bred in Kirkwall, joined the City Guard at the age of 18, married my childhood sweetheart at 20, had our first child at 21, a boy, and a second child, a girl, at 24. Made the rank of Lieutenant at the age of 26. We started saving for a larger house, something to get us out of Lowtown. My life was perfect, and then a mage blew up the Chantry. That day I lost everything. I hand him the slightly crinkled sheet. 'No changes needed.' The dwarf nods and puts the sheet back in the folder. 'Good luck, job hunting.'
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Post by Eliana Ashcroft on Aug 6, 2020 3:58:52 GMT
(So many thanks to Silver for the help! )
Name:
Alias: Kit Monte (Kitten to Rory)
Title/Ranks: None
Race: Human
Age: 24
Nationality: Orlesian
Accent: Orlesian
Faith/Philosophy: Andrastean
Class: Rogue
Specialization(s): Artificer
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Behaviour & Psychology:
Kit is a mute - caused by a traumatic event in her childhood. Extremely intelligent, but hides it most of the time. She is a consummate actor, able to be anyone, from a proud aristocrat with her nose in the air to the poor little waif lost and needing help; she tricked many a fool this way. Rory and others taught her weapons well; she’s an expert with the daggers she kept in sheaths on her forearms and secreted about her person. She uses a bow, able to shoot a rabbit on the run for dinner when they travelled the wilds. Pickpocket? She could take a gold pouch from inside a man’s doublet as easily as she could tie her shoes. He had tried teaching her to use a sword, but gave up when she decided daggers were her forte. She had spent the last few years working on learning how to make and set traps. She had blown up a couple of rooms, and they had to leave town quickly, but she was getting good at it - most of the time. And she loved only one person in the world – Rory McCallum. Her deepest desire, and secret? Marry Rory, settle down, and have children. The twenty-year age difference meant nothing to her – but it might to him.
Physical Description: Kit stands 5’4 in her stocking feet. She has long dark brown hair, amber eyes and a medium skin tone that tans easily. Her clothing consists of dark pants with knee high boots, white shirt and light grey tunic. She pairs this with a short, hip-length jacket, or a calf length heavy coat, dependent upon the weather. If necessary, she can wear almost any clothing, from the rags of a beggar to dresses of an aristocrat. And she had the all black leather suit Rory had made for burglary jobs – that cost a pretty penny.Biography:Another city. Another day. Another job. We had just finished a couple of burglaries, some break ins, and Rory had a private job he had to do. Of course, I knew what the private job was, but he didn’t know I knew what they were. Life has been interesting ever since we had left Mont-du-Glace when I was twelve. We had lived off the gold he had earned at first, but eventually Rory had to look for work. He easily found it as a caravan guard, but insisted he bring his daughter with him. After he proved himself to caravan masters and earned their recommendations, it was easy to get work. We been traveling for a couple of years, when the caravan we were with stopped in Val Royeaux. Rory (well I had to call him Papa) ran into Alvin Freeman, whom he had known when he was young in Afsaana. Alvin was running a successful thieves’ gang, and Rory decided it would be to our advantage to join. For six years we stayed, and I learned…a lot. Burglary, pickpocketing, begging effectively, building on what Rory had taught me during our time with the caravans. While we were in Val Royeaux, at first, I could “beg”, being rather small, looking rather sickly – with the proper makeup – and could get the alms. After growing older, I was unable to pull the scam off. After leaving Val Royeaux, we travelled, using the caravans to get from city to city. Once we arrived, if we decided to stay awhile, we would go to work. Once settled, I would use everything I had learned. I was excellent at pickpocketing, could hide in the smallest shadow, and get in almost any lock conceived by man. I knew how to flip my wrists just right to launch the knives in the sheathes on my forearms, and quickly pull the other daggers secreted on my person. How to climb from a dark alley to the rooftops and travel along those same rooftops. How to use a bow to get us food if I needed to. I knew, deep inside, what we were doing was wrong, but we had to survive, didn’t we? We travelled all over Thedas, from the Nordbotten in the Anderfels, to Hambleton in Markham, from Nessum in Nevarra to Gwaren in Ferelden. Now we sat in this tavern in Jadar, discussing our next step.
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Post by Eliana Ashcroft on Aug 6, 2020 4:13:47 GMT
(So many thanks to Silver for all her help and suggestions! )
Name: James ‘Rory’ McCallum
Alias: None
Title/Ranks: None
Race: Human
Age: 44
Nationality: Wycome, Antiva
Accent: Antivan
Faith/Philosophy: None
Class: Warrior
Specialization(s): None
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexuality
Behaviour & Psychology:
Rory’s a mercenary, sell sword, his talents for sale anywhere he can make money. Working as a guard in caravans, towns, lordship’s castles; stealing time, money, lives. Lives stolen only when the person deserved it. He did his share of illegal crimes when young, and still did when he needed to. When he was younger, he didn’t care who got hurt by his crimes; now it mattered. A pair of huge amber eyes looking at him, pain in them, changed him. Oh, he still does assassinations – Kit just never knows. He tries to teach Kit to use a sword, and is spectacularly unsuccessful – she prefers bow and daggers. Although she was of an age to be his daughter, of late he thought more of her as a woman, not as his child, and wondered…
Physical Description: He is tall, 6'4", grizzled, with a hard-bitten look on his face, short dark hair and beard peppered with grey. A scar bisected the right side of his face, beginning above the eye and continuing down his cheek; he was lucky he had not lost the eye, that fight had been ugly. He is well-built, but not bulky, and can wield a sword with the best of them.
Biography: “Move your ass, Rory! We have a big job tonight, and you’re not going to lay in bed all day!” A heavy shoe hit the side of the bed he shared with his older sister. Rory uncovered his head, and gave his father a dirty look. He had only been asleep for a few hours – he had been out all-night casing houses, and half of today trying to pickpocket in the market. He had managed to bring in 10 gold, but as always, it was never enough.
His father, Arngrim, had been a master thief and taught his son all he knew of burglary, pickpocketing – and silent murder. The boy brought in a good living, until his size prevented it. Arngrim had only seen his two children as a way to make money…that was it. The sight of bruises on their mother’s face was incentive to make them work - making Rory learn his trade and his sister Sara to work at the brothel. Once Rory grew tall and broad enough to return the favour, it only took one thrashing to make his father stop. Shortly afterwards, his father and all the money they had earned disappeared.
At the age of 15, Rory became the man of the house. He immediately pulled his sister from the brothel and moved them away from the hovel they had called home. He had done some work for the landlord of the Golden Hind before, so he managed to get an attic room on credit. Sure, the inn wasn’t the best in the city, but then again it wasn’t the worst. After the landlord found his mother was an excellent cook, he hired her, and as a result the quality of the food improved five-fold. His pretty sister had a warm manner that brought customers back time and again, while Rory worked as a bouncer/porter/jack of all trades whilst being employed in other ‘unsavoury’ jobs.
It had taken three years, but they were finally set. The tavern had improved beyond all recognition. Of course, his mother marrying the inn’s owner may have had something to do with that. His mother and sister happy now, he decided to seek his own fortune and further his own dream – to take his skills and venture beyond Afsaana.
Rory joined a merchant’s caravan as guard, traveling to Starkhaven first. For two years he ranged over Thedas, from the Anderfels in the west to Wycome in the east, Tevinter in the north to Ferelden in the south. During these travels he decided to change his weapon of choice from daggers, which his father had taught him to use, to a sword. It took a lot of practice, and some actually fighting – the scar over his eye was a good example – before he became more than passably good. When he ended up at Mont-du-Glace after one caravan run, he managed to find good work as a guard at a noble's estate, so he decided to stay.
At the age of twelve, Kit joined him on the road when circumstances forced them to leave Mont-du-Glace, and they had been together for twelve years – she was a mute, but they had devised a sign language to communicate. Small, unnoticeable gestures for privacy, and normal gestures for public view. Now they worked together – except for his special jobs – as one.
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Post by BronzTrooper on Jun 14, 2021 15:55:44 GMT
Name: Livia Pantera Alias: Well, I tend to hear people try to get my attention by saying, "Hey, you!", but they usually follow that with "Get down from there!", so I don't think that counts. Title/Rank: No, unfortunately not. Maybe if I had one then people would take me more seriously. Race: Well... human. But, my father is an elf, so that makes me part elf, right? Age: 24 Gender: Well, I'm very clearly a woman. Sexuality: I would much rather share a bed with another woman. Particularly when they're buxom with shapely thighs and... ... I may need a cold bath after this. Nationality: I'm from Tevinter, if you must know (NO, I'M NOT A MAGISTER) Accent: Tevinter Faith/Philosophy: What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine if you leave it where I can take it. Particularly gold and jewelry. Class: Technically I'm a Laetan, but I gave that up long before I left Tevinter. Wait, that's not what you meant?? Specialization: I'm very good at climbing things, if I do say so myself. Especially buildings. I'm so good at it, in fact, that I don't even need ledges to hold on to. How? Very carefully. In other words: it's a secret I intend to keep. Behavior/Psychology: I like gold, and other valuable things. Laws are just another obstacle for me to climb over. Physical Description: I'm about 5'9" and consider myself fairly buxom (and I think more than a few others may agree) and I've got a few curves to my form. If I'd been born an Altus, I'd probably say something about 'generations of careful breeding' being to thank for that, but thankfully that isn't the case. Equipment:Casual: Travelling: On the job: And no, I don't carry any weapons guardsm-- * shakes head * Sorry, force of habit. Bio: I was raised in Vol Dorma by my mother until I was roughly... 15 or 16, which was when I'd found out that my father was a slave owned by one of the altus families in the city. That soon led to me finding out that my birth had led to my mother and I being raised up to being laetans, soon afterwards I finally realized that my mother was a fragmen stercore that was only interested in status. I left for Marnas Pell and wound up spending the following few years on the streets. As for why I left Tevinter... well, I may have snuck my way into a magister's estate, which, after a short series of events I don't exactly remember, led to me being in bed with said magister's wife. I may have also overstayed my welcome at the time, since he had discovered the both of us mid-redress, and he was less than pleased. Thankfully my quick reflexes meant I was able to flee before he was able to use blood magic on me. .... what? Why are you looking at me like that?
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