Fandom D R A G O N - A G E : Reclamation (closed)

[TYPE]

(Image of Character: In an art style fitting toward the setting)

Name(s) : (Both what you are formally and informally addressed as)
Family Name : (The name of the family you belong to, or have chosen to belong to)
Age : (self explanatory)
Race : (Elven, Dwarven, Tal Vashoth or Human)

Parents/Caretakers : (self explanatory - optional)
Siblings: (self explanatory - optional)
Allies or Close Friends: (self explanatory - optional)
Etc.

Social Class : (Where do you sit in society? A nomadic Dalish Elf? A noble?)

Nationality : (From which Kingdom or Empire of Thedas do you hail?)

Backstory : (Who is your character? Either Biographical or Conversational)

Class and Subclass : (Warrior, Rogue, Mage - Etc - Keep in mind that we are not playing the game, and so, if you wish you can mix and match as long as it fits your character. Many mages in Dragon Age the Game and Novel do things you can't as a player. Same goes for Warriors and Rogues. Feel free to experiment, but keep to class dynamics.)

Special Skills : (What is your character uniquely skilled in?) Acrobatics, Lock Picking, Etc.

Special Assets (Tools, Equipments, Sentimental Items) : A Sword made of Bronze, A Ring, Etc.

NOTE: When giving items and choosing skills, think early mid tier at best for the start.​

 

[TYPE]

THE SENIOR ENCHANTER


Name : SENIOR ENCHANTER NIVEK
Family Name : REDMOND (ORIGINALLY), GOES WITHOUT A FAMILY NAME THESE DAYS
Age : 29
Race : HUMAN

Parents/Caretakers : FATHER: CASTOR REDMOND, former Templar recruit that never made it past training, LORNA REDMOND, former baker and traveler from the capital of Ferelden, moved with her drunkard husband away from the city, comes from a very religious family that paired her with a Templar to be, which never panned out
Siblings : SINGLE CHILD, while his father did try with his mother many times after him, she never got pregnant again, which angered him often and made her believe that Nivek was even more special than he really was. His father insisted that his 'demon' nature had made her barren.
Allies or Close Friends: GRAND ENCHANTER OF DENERIM CIRCLE (formerly), saw Nivek as a prized pupil and a worthy successor - Nivek has not spoken to him in years, BANN of RAINESFERE, AMBASSADOR to ORLAIS, ARL of REDCLIFFEE TEAGAN GUERRIN, a friend and ally who he stayed with for years and advised on matters of magic, politics and medicine - most importantly, helped him and his wife conceive, KAITLIN GUERRIN, the wife of the Bann and a good friend who Nivek tutored during his stay in Redcliffe castle.

Social Class : ORIGINALLY A FARM BOY, THEN A MAGE APPRENTICE, THEN SENIOR ENCHANTER. THEN ADVISER TO BANN GUERRIN, THEN REPRESENTATIVE TO THE BANN IN ORLAIS, SOCIALITE AND TRUSTED ALLY OF THE MAJORITY OF ORLESIAN UPPER CRUST

Nationality : FERELDEN, NOW CONSIDERS HIMSELF NATION-LESS, RESIDING IN ORLAIS

Backstory :

Spoiler: Collections and musings from Nivek's conversations and diaries

He remembers birds. Then again, to his mind it must have been winter. The man that had come to take him away had nearly slipped on the snow. He definitely remembers that. Mother was sat across from him. Father to her left. She was visibly proud. He was visibly not. It was always a curious thing to him how a memory could concurrently be both radiating from praise and be rendered almost entirely desaturated with shame. Or perhaps not shame. Embarrassment?

Nivek had read about them of course. The Mages. Perhaps it would be appropriate to note the first unusual thing about his upbringing, where his mother had insisted, they frequent the chantry with every service, and instilled in Nivek such a curiosity in all things. So much so that he would pester and pester those who oversaw the tired religious rites, till he was allowed to read for himself. If he were honest with himself, they never really interested him all that much. A small sample of surface level metaphysical assertions that could not be founded on anything more than third-removed historic reports that had been obviously revised with a heavy-handed bias, and rhetoric. Memorising a few ideas and repeating them out loud. It was boring. Faith was boring. Got him out of farm work though.

He liked the mages though. They seemed interesting. In his most... arrogant moments, he may even have hoped to be one. Yes, they were… dangerous. But was not everyone, in some way? In nature animals that were smaller often had camouflage, or poison, or advanced mobility against their physical superiors. It only made sense, did it not? That humans who were… weaker… like him, could have magic. To even out the playing field. No wonder so many elves could do magic. Fairness and all that. Maker… the mind of the young. Enviable for its ability to find sufficiency in simplicity… Innocence, one could possibly call it. He could have done with a bit more fairness. Back then. His father was dangerous when he had drink, and the church only suggested moderation. And that was what the circles were for right? Encouraging moderation.

He would have been happy had the church taken away his father’s sword when he let the templars. He could barely lift it effectively anymore, but when his father got really bad, he always went for it, destroyed a few cups or made a few cuts in the walls. Every year it seemed that fewer were managed before he either fell over crying, or he rushed outside and destroyed a few saplings.

His fingers still stung when he thought like that... His father had not appreciated him pretending to set the barn on fire with erratic waves of empty hands. He did not have his belt on him. A nearby reed had worked well enough to undermine any… queer behaviour. His mother had agreed it best to not pretend too much. "You won't set anything but your father's temper alight." She was always wiser than he was. In her own way. It was all about balance for her. Using a bit more sugar and flour one morning for a cake was worth no bread the next. Saving a copper today so that you can by a nice pair of walking shoes the next was worth it. Occasionally making a joke at his father’s expense was worth the light bruises against her cheek the following morning. For the nightmares and the ‘vivid’ dreams which had Nivek walking around the house? Well, a good dose of alcohol before bed seemed to keep the boy knocked out till the morning.

A year later... was he seven? The mage that had sat next to his mother had said prodigious. Quite a few times. Apparently seven was prodigious. It seemed to make her, his mother, smile more with each utterance. He was never sure if his father knew what that word meant. Either he did, and the idea disgusted him - considering his face. Or he did not, and the man in the robe was irritating him with his big words. His father’s hand only clenched that harshly when he wished to reach for his belt, his drink or his wife… and was not allowed to. Even he was afraid of the man in robes. It was a curious sight. His father was never afraid of anything. Let alone a beardless man with purple robes on.

The man... had been called by his mother. A letter. Just a short one. Against the wishes of his father. "We walked outside; I saw a light... It was mid-winter, was it not? Yes. One of the calves had escaped from the stable..." She had closed her eyes when she spoke. Her face radiant. Nivek perhaps could have interpreted it as a religious experience she was recalling. It wasn't though. Despite her wanting it to be. "My baby boy was healing the poor lamb... bright, holy light from his hands-" "The lamb was dead. It was necromancy. My son is a demon. Dispose of him." That was his father. His knees were giving in. And his back. No wonder he seemed so angry. Nivek would not be able to help out anymore.

Apparently, his mother left the farm a year after. He can't really remember. The letter had been confiscated after he had managed to read it. Apparently, also, he had not healed the lamb. It was resurrection to an extent. Animals just don't have souls. Or not as humans... elves and the like have them. Animals could be revived if the caster was strong enough. Unusual for a child. Prodigious for a seven-year-old.

Not some second coming or a new prophet for the lord… as his mother had hoped. Surely it was a bit unreasonable to feel like you had let someone down for not being literally god-touched. He was far from that. Just your everyday… gifted youth.

Prodigious... He never liked that world. It meant so little. You were told you were that when compared to the mundane dung heap you grew up in. Then you get to a tower filled with them. And then suddenly the prodigy is one of the prodigies, and then there were scales of excellence.

Turns out he got to keep the title. He got to stay a prodigy. Upper two percent of prodigies. He just had to work himself into a coma first. He did the Harrowing at age sixteen. Another unusual thing. Not that he had anything better to do. He came to the circle at the age of seven while most came there between twelve and fourteen. When they were exploring relationships and puberty, he just found their complaining annoying and loud. He would have taken the Harrowing sooner, but apparently the Templars were unwilling to kill a nine-year-old boy. Which just gave him more time to prepare. Even more so, when he actually did it, he met not a demon, but a benign spirit instead. He had expected the test to be ceremonial for the most part. Despite the death sentence at failing it. They would not allow demons to manifest, surely? They were too cautious for that. It was a mind game. And in the fade, you see what you expect to see. This was known. And he saw a spirit. She told him that he had a bright future ahead of him. He joked that he had seen how bright candles can go, and if that was bright in her eyes, she should manifest a new set.

He passed with flying colours. The Grand-Enchanter, intrigued by his account of the fade, intrigued by his natural skill and intrigued by his past, had him stationed to study beneath him. It was not glamorous, but he got to travel, he got to study, and het got a lot of free reign to explore magic as it fit him. His healing magic, for which it seemed he had a natural inclination, won him the favour of many of the templars, who would frequent him firstly whenever they have some or another ailment.

Until the age of twenty-one, he rose up in the ranks, often teaching just as much as learning, overseeing research projects and trips to Orlais to scour the tomes of the Chantry. While he was no longer so arrogant as to believe that his magic made him truly special, he was aware that he had a natural talent for healing, which he could not have managed at such a young age without the aid of some significant spirits. Which meant that they chose him to manifest through. And the only other faction within the world that seemed to have any accounts similar to his own was within the church. And, to be honest, it made for a fun trip and the chance to meet interesting people.

Upon returning, only a few years later, he was appointed as Senior-Enchanter – a title awarded rarely enough, let alone to a child of twenty-four. The tower set to lending Nivek out to the Banns, his skills in healing surpassing most if not all within the chantry. At least in Ferelden. It was around then when Bann Teagan contacted the Grand-Enchanter about securing the services of Nivek, his wife having trouble conceiving and maintaining a pregnancy. Nivek went to Redcliffe, where he stayed with the family for the next few years, traveling with Teagan to Orlais as part of his diplomatic core and as an advisor.

During his time there he became good friends with the Bann and his Wife, often eating with them, as they taught him the basics of court life, manners and the ways of the civil world. In return, he ensured that Kaitlyn bore the Bann a healthy baby boy. By this point Nivek had forgotten the nature of the circles, and while he may have been somewhat excited to return, upon walking into his former home, he came to realise what it truly was. A prison. Writing to the Bann, he implored he be requested to return, stating that he could tutor their child – not in magic but in reading, writing, history, poetry, art, music – whatever they required. The Bann surprisingly insisted that he do come, using the same excuse as before, stating that he could not possibly only have a single heir.

It was during their second pregnancy, when the mage uprising occurred. The Bann, knowing that Nivek would be called back to the circle and that they would not let him go again, quickly wrote up an excuse for political negotiations with Orlais, and even before it was to be agreed upon, set off to Orlais with his wife and Nivek. They stayed there for the next few months, Nivek delivering their second child.

Unable to stay longer, Teagan and his wife returned to Ferelden. Nivek remained behind. He would not return to his cage. And he would have an easier time evading that call away from Redcliffe. Using the Guerrin house in the capital, he maintained his presence as a servant of Teagan’s house. Researching using his political clout. His skills… despite being clearly magical became a coveted and renowned secret, as the rich and powerful of the city came to him for all manner of… medical emergencies. Whether it be infections, or warts or unwanted pregnancies, he could make it all as if it never was. By far in away his treatments to keep the old looking young made him the most money and renown. In return he got protection.

Spoiler: Collections and musings from Nivek's conversations and diaries

And there he stayed. Almost thirty years old and in limbo. Doing the same difficult, but boring magic every day, getting rich off it. That was, until he got a letter. A letter from the Chantry. He had half expected it to be a summons towards extradition. Instead… it was an invitation. Quite a curious situation. Which meant of course, he could never decline.

Class and Subclass : MAGE, SPECIALIZING IN SPIRIT HEALING, SPIRIT PROTECTIONS, HAS BEEN EXPERIMENTING WITH RIFT MAGIC AND SOME PYROMANCY AS WELL FOR SELF DEFENSE.

Special Skills : MEDICINE, POTION MAKING, ENCHANTING, HEALING, LANGUAGES, POLITICS, DANCING, DEBATING, POETRY

Special Assets :


MAW OF THE WYRM
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A staff that he commissioned which augment his fire based magic, allowing him more of an edge in combat when he does not have anyone to heal. The staff also allows him to create enough light to brighten a forest if need be, if only for shorts bursts at a time. He mostly uses it as a walking stick, and while powerful in the right hands, it looks far more impressive than it actually is.

RING OF THE GRAND HOST
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A ring of his own design, that, when he runs his finger along the rim of an almost empty glass, will have the glass refill. Every time he does this to the same glass, the amount refilled is less, and upon the fourth time the glass refuses to refill. The liquid is always the perfect temperature to drink, and if there are poisons or any other foreign materials in the drink, it removes them. If the wine is of exquisite quality, he can with focus transmute the wine into what amounts to a healing potion over the course of a minute of focus.

BROOCH OF PROTECTION
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A small brooch that looks like a shield made of gold, which he pins to his lapel. The brooch will allow a hidden casting of barrier to spring up to sudden violence against him, stopping most surprise attacks, lest they be from particularly skilled assassins.

TOME OF SECRETS
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A book that he carries with him at all times, which with a snap of his fingers can be made to disappear into nothing or reappear. Inside, any writing seems to be foreign and strange to a reader other than the one who wrote the words. He can also have the book remove all writing inside of it forever with a secret word of his choosing.​

 

[Braddington]

THE WARDEN​

 

[Epiphany]

Name(s) : Moire
Family Name : Sehari of Clan Sabrae
Age : 30
Race : Dalish Elf

Parents/Caretakers : Gamael and Velathari Sehari
Siblings: Neril Sehari
Allies or Close Friends: The Duchess Nicole de Val Montaigne

Social Class : A well-kept Dalish Elf Apostate (perfectly content to pass as a servant or someone unimportant)

Nationality : Technically Ferelden (her clan is originally from the Brecilian Forest, although they now live in Sundermont)

Backstory :

Spoiler: Lots of words

Born into the Ghilain Clan, Moire grew up happily playing at the feet of her parents when the pair weren't out hunting for the Clan. When she manifested the ability to make plants grow at the age of seven, the Ghilain Clan Keeper elected to send her to the fading Sabrae Clan to help replenish that Clan's magic.

Apprenticed to its Keeper, Marethari, she found the lessons of history and elvish lore difficult, tedious and was an awful student. Like her parents, she yearned for the open forests, for the hunt and the chase rather than staying by the campfire. The freedom of her Clan meant her imprisonment. Despite her difficulties, Moire persevered in studying the Vir Atish'an and learned the basics of providing healing to her Clan as the way of peace would have her do.

In time, her inattentiveness meant the arrival of another Mage; Merrill from the Alerion Clan. Within a year, the other woman had succeeded Moire as First. This suited everyone, including Moire, who found the relative freedom of the Second exactly what she wanted. It left her free to study the only kind of magic she truly reveled in; shapechanging. For years, she studied the forms of the hawk, the bear and the halla. Her proudest moment came in mastering the shape of the famed Frostback Red Lion. At the same time, Moire learned to embrace the Vir Tanadhal, the Dalish Way of Three Trees followed by the Clan's hunters.

Moire's Clan settled near Kirkwall, on Sundermont. With her magic, Moire found it simplicity itself to rove the human city in the guise of a hawk. In all the years her Clan had wandered the wilderness, Moire had never come so close to so many Shemlen. Amused and interested, she studied them for a time before realizing that she was done being Dalish. Moire was tired of living out of an Aravel, tired of the narrow-minded, insular Dalish themselves, and tired of their whole lifestyle. Kirkwall was thick with paranoid Templars but there were many other places to see in the width of Thedas.

So the elf took to the air and began her own grand tour, hunting along the way as she toured Fereldan, wandered up to the Free Marches and gradually worked her way west. Nevarra was nice but Orlais was where the action was. Not that the average Orlesian human wanted anything to do with a Dalish elf but then she rarely left animal shape in those early days as she wandered the ancient lands, outlying towns and finally Val Royeaux itself.

That's when she met the Duchess Nicole de Val Montaigne. On the surface, they couldn't be more dissimilar, as the noblewoman was initially formal, entirely urbane and not at all used to an apostate mage who enjoyed being a Red Lion. It so happened the Duchess bumped into Moire while the latter was studying an ancient, worn fountain Nicole intended to restore. This led to an involved conversation, several more chance meetings followed by the Duchess taking Moire on a tour (in the guise of a servant) followed by an invitation to a private dinner where they discussed the Dalish and all Moire had seen on her travels. That was three years ago. In that time, the two became lovers, leading Moire to become a more-or-less permanent resident of Val Royeaux. She's filled her time with books (much more fun when your Keeper isn't making you learn), magical experimentation and any idle pleasure a Dalish can get away with. Being the kept woman of the Duchess has agreed with the elf, even if she has to pretend to be a servant when anyone else is around.

And then there's the Chantry. Thanks to the Duchess' devotion and a discreet contact in the Seekers of Truth, Moire's ended up being asked by the Duchess to undertake a job or two. Or three. Or more, as the elf's unusual abilities make her a valuable, unique asset in Orlais' Game (even the most skillful of spies is more suspicious than a simple housecat after all). While Moire still holds to the beliefs she was raised with, she finds the Chantry teachings interesting and she's besotted enough with the Duchess to overlook their silly sensibilities. When a letter and agent were dispatched to Moire, they went through the Duchess first and it was Nicole who then prevailed upon her lover to aid the Divine in this unique undertaking.

Which she willingly agreed to, simply because her lover asked her.

Class and Subclass : Mage - Shapechanger

Special Skills :
-Shapechanging: Can become a Halla for travel, a hawk for surveying, a wolf for tracking and a house cat for sneaking around Shemlen cities. But Moire's favorite by far, without question, is the Red Lion.
-Hunting & Survival.
-Pretending to be a convincing animal.
-Sneaky.
Note: She's had Keeper training in herb lore, cultural lore and the stories of the Dalish...but she was a terrible student and only remembers bits and pieces of all these years later.

Special Assets (Tools, Equipments, Sentimental Items) :

Spoiler: Tanaleth's Finger (for when she absolutely must fight like a two-legs)

Spoiler: A suit of Dalish female light armor

Leather bag with packed herbs and basic journeying supplies.
Two silverite knives, for survival and self-defense.
Silver pendant bearing the inscription 'To Moire, for Always - Nicole'.
A slender tome of the Duchess' favorite poetry.​