Fandom Lawful and Cruel (Characters)

[homintales]

"Darkspawn are coming? Well, go tell them I don't need anymore target practice, will you?"

Lucius BrightBurn​

Lucius was always a curious one. His parents Librarians serving in Denerim, Lucius possessed access to unlimited stories and tales. He would eventually read about the Darkspawn infested Dwarven Kingdom, Orzammar, which was all too ready to collapse under its own pressure. The mythical and illusive Bracillian Forest, which supposedly concealed a massive Werewolf army, an idea Lucius just could not take seriously. And then there was the Circle of Magi. Lucius loved to read about the Circle and the Templars more than anything else. How they would protect Ferelden from Blood Mages and Apostates. How they guarded all the Maker's precious creations. He wanted to join the Templars more than anything.

A few years passed, and the chance came. Lucius was only 17 years old, and yet his goal was now in grasping range. Thanks to his Uncle's private lessons in Rouge and Warrior combat, Lucius was a natural when it came to fighting anyone who approached with a challenge. While visiting Denerim while tracking an Apostate, the Templars were quick to take notice.

Just three nights would come to pass, and Lucius was officially made an initiate. His contributions to the Circle established Lucius as quite the asset. And so with only a few more years in service, Lucius would quickly climb the ranks all the way to Knight-Lieutenant. Many Templars and respected public figures would come to appreciate Lucius's efforts to aid the Circle. But more importantly, Lucius's presence gave all potential Apostates a new reason to stay in line.

However, not everyone would view Lucius as some Templar savior. In fact, there were those who called his methods savage and ruthless in nature. Multiple reporters noted that an increase in Tranquil Mages only occurred once Lucius's rise to Knight-Lieutenant was authorized. To some, this was quite the problem. But most, not personally impacted, chose to ignore this or simply couldn't care less.

But with three more years coming to pass, Lucius would at last receive what rogue Blood Mages like to call... justice. On what seemed like an ordinary and uneventful night, 32 Apostates were successful in storming in and momentarily capturing the Circle. With Blood Magic on these Apostate's side, the Templars, not even Lucius, stood a chance. All the same, Lucius and the other fought until they were inevitably restrained and locked in cages.

Outside these cages, the Blood Mages mocked the Templars, asking them what they thought about finally seeing what imprisonment actually means. And then the torture started. Maker, the torture. It was unbearable. Even when your eyes were closed, you could still make out all that screaming and those crunching and tearing noises.

Every Templar would receive a punishment. Hanging was the luckiest punishment, and also the quickest way to go. Then the execution methods started to involve Blood Magic. And from there, every Templar understood there was no escaping.

The last man still alive, at least on the outside, Lucius, his crimes against the Mages and Tranquil in mind, received what was absolutely the most excruciating punishment. And ironically, in the end, Lucius was the only Templar to survive the massacre.

Lucius, while completely restrained, had his eyes and multiple sections of his face sliced open. The Blood Mages then used their twisted spells to reconstruct Lucius's eyes and face using the same materials from other Templar's corpses. Lucius was, of course, conscious this whole time. Even the Apostates were impressed he managed to stay awake the whole time.

Once the transformation was complete, a single Apostate handed Lucius a mirror and said, "Now you can see yourself as we do." And all Lucius could see in his reflection was a monster. His eyes and new scars were glowing dark red, filled with blood.

Hours passed, and the Blood Mages finally left with a few new Apostates. When additional Templar support finally arrived, they were all horrified when they discovered the massacre. There were no survivors. And Lucius was simply gone.

He couldn't stay, not there. After repairing his Blood Dragon Armour, Lucius left to find a way to die with some genuine honor.

After joining the Wardens, he found it.

​

 

[The Silent Z]

“Oh goodie, more darkspawn have come to join us have they? Well tell them I’m ready for a roast I suppose….Will you?


Elias Malkstrom
​

Elias was never what you’d call a normal child… Born an outcast within his own family and gifted a twisted curse yet beautiful power with a makers touch called, magic. A wonderfully notable gift granted its twisted nature within this world as it always had been. Marked by his parents as a monster for simply showing early signs while but a small child, templars called to take him away.

A child of dragons reach at the mere age of maybe six if even that old. A sad tale that normally would harm a young child in more ways then one however as I said Elias was never what you’d call normal… hiding the pain within a mask of humor and outcry of laughs. Promising himself to never show his real tears again. While the Templar’s whisked him away to some tower where he’d likely never see the light of day again….

While not all templars were bad, the divide was rather noticeable even for a young child of six. The first enchanter helped comfort the lad and began teaching him the basics of magic, whilst other elder enchanters continued his lessons over the period of many years.

Never claiming superior talent to any, Elias remained a confident mage for not only must you be, but survival all but required it to be so. Tranquility? They call it a right of some sort yet it was no gift to the mind of Elias. Years, years of conversing with the tranquil around the tower convinced him of one thing…. life was too precious and emotions too valuable to give up for some twisted desire of those claiming to protect all from mages

Even while his opinions differed to many amongst the order of templars and chantry sisters, brothers plus anyone else who might be so inclined to believe the same chatter. Elias tried to use humor and kindness to befriend others, come to understand them and reach a common ground that perhaps could lead to becoming a bridge to peace and no more hostility. But was it successful?

The horrors one witnesses within the tower walls and many floors can beg to differ….

Elias began reading tales of noble warriors and legends from all races around thedas over the ages . Hearing tales of wondrous variety, started venturing into ideals not his own but not for evil intent and following either. Mere… shall we say interest of magic not told by the mages of elder status within the tower walls? Studies of simple or perhaps not so simple shape shifting.

He simply desired another form not his own and to wander about outside for a change, fresh air…. Sunlight, moonlight…. Something new to him. When he encountered a horror most unexpected but heard in whispers. A friend he cherished most of anyone at the tower beaten, bloodied and harmed in most violating of ways.

The anger within filled his soul and heart sank with such hurt it could not be so easily explained. He could feel the clawing of another yet Elias knew better then to become ones puppet and vessel to the outside world. Banishing the potential demon or whatever that voice may have been once and for all, he took witness once more to what drew him closer to the forbidden.

Yet before he could act the friend of his was no more… The claws he could feel was not his own, the voice did not come from within his own mind but from another…. His friend, a woman he had known for years tormented by templars and now had become what they despised…. A monstrous demon.

Tearfully he held off the abomination long enough for aid to arrive in the form of other templars who hadn’t taken kindly to their brethren lying slain upon the cold stone floor. The blood of many covering the walls, splattered upon the ground across armor plates, shields and swords no longer in the hands of their masters. The demon he once knew as a elven woman his own age was no more..

Humor, his oldest friend was no where to be found. Laughs, his oldest ally could not be heard. Only tears rolling down his face from swelled watery eyes, riddled with red from the stream of pain could be seen. A promise made so long ago now broken in ways drawn from nightmares and told by tragic authors who voices could be heard no more.

Yet somehow his own tale was only beginning barely in his twenties and already caught within another’s web. Rumors circulated about him, he wasn’t a blood mage, nor had he consorted with demons. But studying old magic was horrendous enough to label him a nasty title either way. Said to have been part of the trouble caused by his friend and some nonexistent plan they designed. Most certainly was this false!!!!

But who was he? Just a mage within a prison and controlled by those who could not be touched. What could he do? Nothing. The punishment could have been many things with death perhaps being the most freeing. Tranquility being the most horrifying. Imprisonment the most in need of enduring. However as luck would have it

A grey warden had been within range tower for a short while. Long enough to grasp hold of the situation and learn about the young mage called Elias. It would seem fate had a different and altogether unexpected twist for him…

“A grey warden, hey? I suppose you can sign me up then. I’ll serve against the darkspawn given my choices.” He’d say while departing the tower to become something he could have never guessed in a million tries.

So, Elias would be granted one more chance to prove his quality and once more try that offering of peace…

A Grey Warden he would become.

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Artheron "Arty" Marrion

What? "sigh" Again? Cant we go to one village and not get jumped on by bandits or whatever? Darkspawn, I understand but do people see us and really think... These heavily armed and armoured group will make easy targets. Let's jump them! Well, a little lightning might educate them.
​

Artheron was never one that could be said was ever lucky. The unwanted result of an Arl's heir forcing himself on an elven servant during a drunken party. His mother was not, however, one to take the assault and just disappeared and attempted to fight for herself and son, petitioning the old Arl and his son for rightful support despite risking persecution and further mistreatment. Artheron's father attempted to have Artheron and his mother removed but the Arl intervened, reluctantly providing Artheron and his mother room and board in his castle even took time to interact with his grandson. However, Artheron was never officially recognized as a bastard of the family though rumour about her parentage dogged his father ever since causing his father to find was to have both Artheron and his mother removed. Artheron was never treated more than another hired hand which the Arl had somewhat of a soft spot for.

Artheron showed magical ability when he turned eleven when he almost destroyed the kitchen when the castle cook was a little too harsh for him. By this time, the Arl was too old and ill to intervene for the boy and so Artheron's father took the opportunity to report the child to the Templars and have him taken to the circle despite Artheron's mother's protest. He would never see his mother since.

Life of the Circle was not as bad as he imagined, despite some initial reluctance, he enjoyed learning about magic and find solace with others like him. Still the constant watch of the templars, the politics and dullness of the circle, troubled him and was defiant troublemaker despite being a capable student. Homesick for his mother and constantly under more constraints by the Templars, he eventually made an attempt to run away back to the castle he grew up in, but he did not make it far. The templars caught up with him in a nearby forest and despite putting up a fight, he was left for dead. He would have died if he was not found by a dalish clan.

The dalish treated him and gratitude attempted to stay with them and return the favour how he could. He ingratiated himself well in the clan eventually taking their position of First by the keeper. He found a home among the dalish, especially when he eventually found out about his grandfathers' death as his father's take over of the Arling as well as his mothers disappearances since. The keeper was a keen researcher who often explored old elven ruins for any knowledge of ancient elves, and she passed on that interest Artheron. He enjoyed the danger and potential discovery such explorations produced and in the processed learned the secrets of the Arcane Warriors, the magical arts he delved deeply the idea of not being just a squeeshy mage but a frontline fighter appealed to him. Both enjoying watching his grandfather's knights train and learning the lesson of his fight with the Templars.

It was when he return to his clan after one of the research trip when he first saw the darkspawn. The darkspawn had attacked the clan and the keepers and hunters were attempting a desperate defence. Artheron attempted to help put his abilities to use, slaying many darkspawn. However, there were too many and was injured and infected with taint in the defence barely kept alive by the keeper's magic. It was the timely intervention of the grey wardens that saved them, seeing Artherons ability they offered him a cure but under the condition he joined them. With little choice and want for revenge, he agreed.

 

[A_Prince_of_Earthsea]

Taar-Antaam
(Literally "Heavy Armor Body")

The traitor wasted time describing the danger he was in. He was surrounded. He should just give up. Taar-Antaam's only answer was lifting up his mighty sword; lightning bursted through the oiled wax paper that covered the blade, screaming with blood hungry prismatic bolts.
"Perhaps."

Height
7'03"

Gender
Male

Likes
 Mages, Books, Spiced Food, Woodwork, Botany, Animals, Geography, Politics, Philosophy, Children.

Dislikes
Qunari, Nobles, Darkspawn, Undead.

Appearance

 Taar-Antaam is an athletic giant, considered tall even for the Qunari. He wears repaired and augmented Shokra-taar, with the right Pauldron replaced with a long shield which tapers to a point. His white knee-length hair is tied together with a ribbon at the waist. Most of the time he can be seen with pinkish face paint and three golden earrings. He also has a golden stud in the middle of his tongue.

Class

Taar-Antaam is an unorthodox warrior, utilizing his titanic great sword "Boar Blood" and the light javelins mounted on the underside of the shield strapped to his right shoulder. He fights as a Vanguard, relying on his surprising agility and swift stride to smash through the front-line of the enemy and strike critical blows against their ranged fighters. He is patient, guarding against his opponent's attacks until finding a tactical weakness, then suddenly falling upon them like an avalanche.

:Equipment:

Boar Blood- A powerfully enchanted great sword standing as tall as it's wielder. Despite it's Brutish name the blade of the sword is beautifully polished, fading into something like clear ice. When used in battle, bolts of rainbow lighting course across the sword, at times leaping from it to strike at Taar-Antaam's enemies.

Longshield- Possibly the most important part of Taar-Antaam's peculiar fighting style, this shield mounted in place of his right Pauldron allows Taar-Antaam to strike with his greatsword with both hands, while still being able to guard against most attacks.

Light Javelins- A relic of his past as a mage hunter, these weapons are designed to be easy to carry and give up penetration for light-weight and distance, to take down softer targets that are too far to rush down.

-Origin-
​

Taar-Antaam was once a member of the Qunari army, being particularly trained for targeting enemy tevinter mages. It was during one of the boarder skirmishes where the Qunari temporarily took control of a town when Taar-Antaam had left the Qun. He had grown to love a human mage in the town, and he attempted to hide him. He was eventually discovered and was killed in a struggle with an Arvaarad. Taar-Antaam killed the Arvaarad in retaliation, and was marked as Tal-Vishoth after escaping to the south. He spent most of his time wandering, learning, and sating his great curiosity. He had grown quite fond of Mages and ancient cultures, which led to his life among the wilds, living on the edge of society which both hated him and awed over him as a dangerous but exotic oddity from distant lands. He had seen much of the differing societies Thedas had to offer; spending time entertaining nobles in Orlais, to receiving his enchanted sword "Boar Blood" from a clan of Avvar as a gift. He decided to accept an offer to join the Grey Wardens since it would give him a chance at companionship, shelter, and some form of acceptance in society.

Other

If Taar-Antaam is not training, writing, or reading, he is taking care of his hair, which demands a lot of care.

​

 

[DynobotSlam]

Aranehn Ur Gundyr O Blackhold

"'A cowardly man thinks he will ever live, if warfare he avoids; but old age will give him no peace, though spears may spare him.' My Pa sat my brother and I down when we were old enough to understand, and I live by those words. No one can be a man and a coward."

Age: 20
Height: 6'03"
Class: Ranger/Artificer- Aranehn is a tracker and trapper first and foremost. He specializes in creating dangerous traps for his enemies to fall into, and calling upon the gods of his clan to send aid in the form of wild beasts. He's the greatest marksman of his people, taking down his targets with lethal precision.
Equipment: Heavy horse bow, Long Knife, prayer amulet, and medicinal herbs.
Likes: Animals, Nature, Spirits, Magic, Reading
Dislikes: Cruelty, Darkspawn, Sweets, Political Games
Origin: Aranehn grew up during his early years in his hold with his parents, learning to hunt, grow food, and master ancient tradition. He was half elf, though he didn't look it. He developed a deep bond with the gods of his people, and when hearing of the threat of tainted monsters from the distant past, he felt compelled to join the fight against the darkspawn menace. He is driven every day by the thought of his twin brother and parents.
Other: Aranehn is well educated and knows quite a few languages (including Dalish) due to the nature of his race. Tied around his neck is a wooden charm (one half of a bear's face); it is his most prized possession as his older twin wears the other half.