Post by Momo on Sept 29, 2015 6:05:07 GMT
Full name: Amara; previously, Meraad, Hissrad
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Elf by birth, Viddathari by nurture
Nationality: Rivanini
Class/Occupation: Infiltrator, Duel wielder / dagger for hire
It is my purpose to do what I must for those I consider important.
It was a six day walk, from the village she didn't remember to the Kont-aar compound. Six days carried on her mother's back, sickly and in desperate need of help, of food and medicine and a better chance at life. It took six days for a small elf child known as Amara, to reach a new life. One with no name, only a job title. No mother, only Tamassrans, one a Kossith Qunari, one an Elven Viddathari to teach her, guide her, and show her what it meant to live under the Qun. Of course, she was too young and too ill to remember her mother as more than passing glimpses of long hair, gold earrings and elf root forever on her hands. There was nothing like that for her father, and she wasn't sure if she ever had one. It didn't matter. Once she was moved from the medical house, she was put with a group of other Viddathari children, all of those who knew how to read and write both the common language of the foreigners and that of the Qunari.
It was fairly easy for her to pick up, and soon she could speak, read, and write both. It was a useful skill, one that would lead her to clerical work, or perhaps working with outsiders when trading. It was a good life, a useful life, one that would help her people, but there was another skill that she had that made her more valuable than just a clerk. She would sit and listen, soaking in conversations around her, and one day she overheard two adults speaking of dangerous things. Worried, she ran to her Tama and told her everything she heard, eyes wide with fear, and her Tama assured her she would be safe, that all would be safe, because she came and told her. She went to bed that night, knowing nothing bad would happen, because her Tama had told her.
She reached the age of eleven, and like everyone else she was tested. Her path lay not with simple clerk work, but with the Ben-Hassrath. Her training took her out into Rivaini villages to learn how to be a servant, and understand how to properly function in the world outside of the Qun. It took a while, her first assignment not arriving until she was fifteen, but she was more than ready. It was a simple task, work in an Antivan noble's house, gather some information, pass it back. Simple. There were a few more missions in Antiva, before she started to work her way out, into the rest of the Free Marches and a couple stints into Orlais and Ferelden.
Around her eighteenth birthday, and her corresponding mission in Starkhaven, Amara met a young dwarven woman, who lived next to the house she worked in. She was a Merchant's daughter, and always treated her kindly when she saw her. The young dwarf asked her to the Winter Solstice gathering, and there their courtship started. It was a delightful six months, slipping out at the end of the day to leave her messages at the dead drop and then going to go see her love. Until she was told that her love was to be married to another dwarf, a man of better standings. It would bring her family wealth and better standings. Amara let her go without any fuss, and went back to the merchant the next day to see if she could return the ring she'd purchased.
After her heart break, she started to feel more disillusioned with the Qun, about how she could be helping to make the world better, when all she saw around her was greed and despair. Sending a letter back, she informed her superiours she would be returning briefly. Passing through Kirkwall, Amara booked passage on a boat to head back to Rivain, and as she passed through the docks she saw Qunari. With a bit of time to kill, she slipped towards where they had been set up, just after crashing, and she made her polite greetings, inquiring if there was anything the Arishok needed sent or taken back. Slipping back out, she took the ship back to Rivain and turned herself into the re-educators. I
A year later, she was sent back out, this time to Orlais, where she stayed in Val Royeaux's alienage. Utterly disgusted by the quality of life, and the conditions these elves lived in, she started once again to doubt if there was anything that the Qun could do for these people. They'd been fighting with Tevinter for so long, and they'd gained no ground, and nothing was being done to help these poor people. They were more like to be killed on their way trying to reach Rivain or Par Vollen, and especially in Val Royeaux, everyone was so far under the Chantry's thumb she doubted she'd be able to help. The hypocrisy of it all, of the Chantry, of the Qun, all of it was making her doubt everything she had learned, everything she had stood for, until she realized there was no way she could continue living her life like this. Not when she witnessed Templars entering the Alienage to seek out a mage child, and instead of taking them to the Circle, attempted to kill them.
There are other paths. They do not all need to lead to the same destination, her recruiter and trainer had told her. But it didn't matter, there was no talking to the Templars. The Elves could do nothing, they were not armed, and feared retribution. So she fought them herself, killed them herself, and allowed them to take her. Not that she stayed in the cell long, they had missed a set of lock picks, and soon she was gone like a shadow in the night. She could not go back to Kont-aar, nor back to Rivain at all. She couldn't stay in Val Royeaux, so she had to leave. She sent one final message, just before her twentieth birthday, at the dead drop, and left.
Two months later a pair of poorly trained assassins came after her, and it seemed that it was more a formality, than an actual attempt on her life, as she walked away with only a long, shallow cut on her stomach, and they were both dead. Now she was officially Tal-Vashoth. What could she do? After finding a healer, she took a good look at job boards around small towns, and decided that unless some city's guard was willing to hire her, she would have to be a mercenary. At least she could choose what jobs she took now.
She has no strong opinions on your average Dwarf, Elf, or Human. Not even any towards Qunari outside of leadership roles. A baker is a baker no matter their race, and if there is someone who is extorting money from them, taking food from the mouths of their children, then what's to say they don't need a little help. The Rich and Noble, particularly those who do nothing to help, or worse those who pretend to help but don't, or make things worse? She despises. This is partially from her living under the Qun, where your actions were meant to help the community, and from her brief times living with the Rivaini people, where they had money, but it didn't matter unless it helped the community. Those ideals, of community first have stuck with her stronger than anything else she learned in her life. Whether her willingness to help anyone in need is a strength or a weakness she couldn't say. Perhaps both.
Of course, she is not without bias, and that is usually directed towards the Noble class, especially humans, of which she has seen mostly the worst of. But dwarves are not exempt from this, having heard some of the worst things out of their mouths at parties. Even though Amara works as a mercenary, and it is usually nobles who hire her, or any company she may be with for the time being, if she does not like what it is proposed, she will walk away from the job and the coin. Also, she despises the Chantry as a whole, for it is a broken system to her. Individuals will be judged on an individual level, but as a whole she cannot stand the hypocrisy. Amara is not very comfortable around mages, but she isn't as frightened of them as she should be, nor is she exactly deaf to their plight. But that doesn't mean she won't stick the first abomination full of holes at the first possible chance.
Defector from Decadence
Homeless Hero
Bi the Way
We Help the Helpless
Never be hurt Again
While living as a spy, she slowly started to gather piecing, finding humans found her more "exotic" and were more willing to hire her that way. The current total is six; one in her nose, and five in her ears. Amara has no tattoos, and most of her scars are under her clothing. One on the back of her shoulder that occurred during her "retraining" with the Qunari, a handful of small ones on her thighs from various activities, and a long gash diagonally across her abdomen that happened during a fight with the assassins sent to kill her.
She has become, as of late, fond of the idea of make up, using khol to line her eyes and make them appear larger, and on occasion she picks up dark red lip stain, though normally she refrains from both, as they're too expensive and likely to be sweat off with work. And she doesn't need khol running in her eyes in the middle of a fight. She also enjoys looking at fine dresses and shoes, but she has no practical need for them, and even if she did, no coin to really pay for them.
Spinning, blades flashing, dancing around and around, a stab here, a slash there. Why won't it die? It should be dead, die already!
....Meraad astaarit.....
They aren't taught to heal. They aren't taught anything. They are Saarebas. Dangerous things. Untrained mages. It shouldn't know how to heal itself! So why does it keep healing?
....Meraad itwasit,....
It's Arvaarad was dead. The Tal-Vashoth killed him. They took the Saarebas, it was attacking a caravan. Why wouldn't it die? Panting, running, ducking and dodging, she moved, jumping back from one attack, only to run and vault over it for another, stabbing it in the back as often as she could. It wouldn't die. The Tal-Vashoth all had, at her hands, but this Saarebas refused to. It kept killing people, innocent people, who had done no harm to anyone other than to have traveled too close to a camp. This had never been her role. It never would be her role. She should have listened, should have never gotten involved in this fight.
....Aban aqun....
"But the sea is changeless," she whispered rolling under a wild attack, panting harder now. She hadn't told any of the mercenary company she'd joined where she was going. They had all heard the screams, but they had had a job to do. A job that did not involve caravans of innocent people, or Tal-Vashoth. She couldn't ignore it, she couldn't go forward with their plan. An Infiltrator she may have been, Ben-Hassrath she may have been, but her friends had called her Meraad. The Sea. The sea could look calm and gentle, it could lure men into thinking no ill would come to them, and then in an instant pull them farther to sea than they had planned, catching their legs in a rip tide, in the storm and fury that raged just beneath the quiet calm. It never changed, and neither did she.
....Maraas shokra.....
There were still some people left. People who couldn't fight, who just wanted a better life, a safe life. Once she would have said they would have been safe under the Qun. But now, even as familiar words danced through her head, and her eyes looked everywhere, trying to find an advantage, a brief second where she could finally put this beast down, she knew that it would probably mean her life. If saving these people could help her prove her life had meaning still left, beyond working for coin and dodging nobles she used to spy on, then so be it.
Even as she charged one final time at the Saarebas, it was no more to blame for this situation, than any in the caravan. Any sign of magic and they were whisked away, collared and masked, lips sewn shut to prevent further corruption. They were no longer Qunari, or Viddithari, they were things, Dangerous Things. Its Arvaarad was dead, and had no guidance. The Qun was and is not the answer for Mages, and it wasn't for her.
The closer she got, the more desperate its spells, and though it hurt and burned, she pressed on, driving her dagger through its heart. Falling on top of it, she kept it in until the mage stopped moving. Pulling it off, she moved off of them and sniffled. "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun." she whispered, taking her blades to the collar and mask the Saarebas wore. Then she freed their lips, before wiping her eyes. "Ataash varin kata, my friend."
Wobbling as she stood, Amara tensed as she heard familiar foot falls behind her. The mercenary leader, the woman she'd signed the contract with. "Makers Breath," she whispered, looking around at the carnage. Amara stood covered in equal amounts of her blood and that of the dead, swallowing hard. The Elven woman looked at the Dwarf, waiting to hear her tell her her time was over. "By the Stone, Run-Away! What did you get yourself into?"
Amara bowed her head a little, but one of the women in the caravan approached, though shaking and wary of the bloodied elf, she approached the Dwarf with some air of authority. "She saved our lives. When we reach Tantervale, I will make sure my husband speaks to his brother, The Lord Chancellor, and you will be rewarded."
Amara dropped to her knees hard, watching as the rest of the company came forward, most eager to help their leader negotiate a better deal, and the two healers towards her. It seemed they should have listened to her. Though the job they had done paid well, this would pay even better. Her daggers slip from her fingers, as she let her body be laid to rest on the ground, while they administered poultices and the like, vaguely hearing the words "Bonus if she lives".
Staring up at the trees, she turned her head slightly, when she thought she heard her Tama call for her, but as her eyes drooped closed, she knew it was probably just a trick of the mind. She would never see her Tama again. Such was the life..of a Tal-Vashoth.
IC
This is the permissions list for IC (in-character), activity.
Answer the following questions with "yes" or "no", as well as additional information if desired. With IC permissions, it's a good idea to elaborate on what other players can expect from your character if they choose to do any of the following:
Hugging this character: Yes, with character permission
Kissing this character: Yes, with character permission
Flirting with this character: Yes
Fighting with this character: Yes
Injuring this character (include limits and severity): I suppose if we discuss it before hand, and the severity and the logistics of healing were worked out, I'd be fine with it.
Killing this character: It's...a bit final. I would rather avoid death unless absolutely necessary.
Using telepathy/mind reading abilities on this character: She won't like it, but I'm fine with it.
Offensive subjects (things you don’t wish to RP/come across): Anything against forum rules, graphic sexual violence, and torture scenes.
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Race: Elf by birth, Viddathari by nurture
Nationality: Rivanini
Class/Occupation: Infiltrator, Duel wielder / dagger for hire
Background
Sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ebasit.It is my purpose to do what I must for those I consider important.
It was a six day walk, from the village she didn't remember to the Kont-aar compound. Six days carried on her mother's back, sickly and in desperate need of help, of food and medicine and a better chance at life. It took six days for a small elf child known as Amara, to reach a new life. One with no name, only a job title. No mother, only Tamassrans, one a Kossith Qunari, one an Elven Viddathari to teach her, guide her, and show her what it meant to live under the Qun. Of course, she was too young and too ill to remember her mother as more than passing glimpses of long hair, gold earrings and elf root forever on her hands. There was nothing like that for her father, and she wasn't sure if she ever had one. It didn't matter. Once she was moved from the medical house, she was put with a group of other Viddathari children, all of those who knew how to read and write both the common language of the foreigners and that of the Qunari.
It was fairly easy for her to pick up, and soon she could speak, read, and write both. It was a useful skill, one that would lead her to clerical work, or perhaps working with outsiders when trading. It was a good life, a useful life, one that would help her people, but there was another skill that she had that made her more valuable than just a clerk. She would sit and listen, soaking in conversations around her, and one day she overheard two adults speaking of dangerous things. Worried, she ran to her Tama and told her everything she heard, eyes wide with fear, and her Tama assured her she would be safe, that all would be safe, because she came and told her. She went to bed that night, knowing nothing bad would happen, because her Tama had told her.
She reached the age of eleven, and like everyone else she was tested. Her path lay not with simple clerk work, but with the Ben-Hassrath. Her training took her out into Rivaini villages to learn how to be a servant, and understand how to properly function in the world outside of the Qun. It took a while, her first assignment not arriving until she was fifteen, but she was more than ready. It was a simple task, work in an Antivan noble's house, gather some information, pass it back. Simple. There were a few more missions in Antiva, before she started to work her way out, into the rest of the Free Marches and a couple stints into Orlais and Ferelden.
Around her eighteenth birthday, and her corresponding mission in Starkhaven, Amara met a young dwarven woman, who lived next to the house she worked in. She was a Merchant's daughter, and always treated her kindly when she saw her. The young dwarf asked her to the Winter Solstice gathering, and there their courtship started. It was a delightful six months, slipping out at the end of the day to leave her messages at the dead drop and then going to go see her love. Until she was told that her love was to be married to another dwarf, a man of better standings. It would bring her family wealth and better standings. Amara let her go without any fuss, and went back to the merchant the next day to see if she could return the ring she'd purchased.
After her heart break, she started to feel more disillusioned with the Qun, about how she could be helping to make the world better, when all she saw around her was greed and despair. Sending a letter back, she informed her superiours she would be returning briefly. Passing through Kirkwall, Amara booked passage on a boat to head back to Rivain, and as she passed through the docks she saw Qunari. With a bit of time to kill, she slipped towards where they had been set up, just after crashing, and she made her polite greetings, inquiring if there was anything the Arishok needed sent or taken back. Slipping back out, she took the ship back to Rivain and turned herself into the re-educators. I
A year later, she was sent back out, this time to Orlais, where she stayed in Val Royeaux's alienage. Utterly disgusted by the quality of life, and the conditions these elves lived in, she started once again to doubt if there was anything that the Qun could do for these people. They'd been fighting with Tevinter for so long, and they'd gained no ground, and nothing was being done to help these poor people. They were more like to be killed on their way trying to reach Rivain or Par Vollen, and especially in Val Royeaux, everyone was so far under the Chantry's thumb she doubted she'd be able to help. The hypocrisy of it all, of the Chantry, of the Qun, all of it was making her doubt everything she had learned, everything she had stood for, until she realized there was no way she could continue living her life like this. Not when she witnessed Templars entering the Alienage to seek out a mage child, and instead of taking them to the Circle, attempted to kill them.
There are other paths. They do not all need to lead to the same destination, her recruiter and trainer had told her. But it didn't matter, there was no talking to the Templars. The Elves could do nothing, they were not armed, and feared retribution. So she fought them herself, killed them herself, and allowed them to take her. Not that she stayed in the cell long, they had missed a set of lock picks, and soon she was gone like a shadow in the night. She could not go back to Kont-aar, nor back to Rivain at all. She couldn't stay in Val Royeaux, so she had to leave. She sent one final message, just before her twentieth birthday, at the dead drop, and left.
Two months later a pair of poorly trained assassins came after her, and it seemed that it was more a formality, than an actual attempt on her life, as she walked away with only a long, shallow cut on her stomach, and they were both dead. Now she was officially Tal-Vashoth. What could she do? After finding a healer, she took a good look at job boards around small towns, and decided that unless some city's guard was willing to hire her, she would have to be a mercenary. At least she could choose what jobs she took now.
Personality
Amara has what could be considered a diplomatic personality. Not eager to please, but most eager to avoid wide spread violence if she can help it. She will fight to protect those who cannot do it themselves, but if she can talk her way out of it, she will do it. That being said, she was given the nickname "Meraad", or "Sea" for a reason. Her exterior may seem as calm and as smooth as a sea on a pleasant summer day, but inside, just under the surface could rage a storm, a riptide that would pull you under faster than you could blink. If she's pushed too far, she will show just how she feels, either with a scathing remark upon her tongue, or a dangerous flash in her eyes right before a dagger ends up in your hand, or a bottle of drink broken over your head.She has no strong opinions on your average Dwarf, Elf, or Human. Not even any towards Qunari outside of leadership roles. A baker is a baker no matter their race, and if there is someone who is extorting money from them, taking food from the mouths of their children, then what's to say they don't need a little help. The Rich and Noble, particularly those who do nothing to help, or worse those who pretend to help but don't, or make things worse? She despises. This is partially from her living under the Qun, where your actions were meant to help the community, and from her brief times living with the Rivaini people, where they had money, but it didn't matter unless it helped the community. Those ideals, of community first have stuck with her stronger than anything else she learned in her life. Whether her willingness to help anyone in need is a strength or a weakness she couldn't say. Perhaps both.
Of course, she is not without bias, and that is usually directed towards the Noble class, especially humans, of which she has seen mostly the worst of. But dwarves are not exempt from this, having heard some of the worst things out of their mouths at parties. Even though Amara works as a mercenary, and it is usually nobles who hire her, or any company she may be with for the time being, if she does not like what it is proposed, she will walk away from the job and the coin. Also, she despises the Chantry as a whole, for it is a broken system to her. Individuals will be judged on an individual level, but as a whole she cannot stand the hypocrisy. Amara is not very comfortable around mages, but she isn't as frightened of them as she should be, nor is she exactly deaf to their plight. But that doesn't mean she won't stick the first abomination full of holes at the first possible chance.
Five Tropes
Defector from Decadence
Homeless Hero
Bi the Way
We Help the Helpless
Never be hurt Again
Appearance
Amara is an Elf of Rivaini heritage. With Black hair and dark brown skin,she always looked like every other Rivaini citizen, even with her dark blue eyes. When living under the Qun, she dressed in the simple garments they provided, and when she went out to work for the Ben-Hassrath she would done the plain clothes all Elven citizens wore, especially those who worked for the rich and the nobles. She has only cut her hair a few times in her life, and it remains fairly long, and wavy.While living as a spy, she slowly started to gather piecing, finding humans found her more "exotic" and were more willing to hire her that way. The current total is six; one in her nose, and five in her ears. Amara has no tattoos, and most of her scars are under her clothing. One on the back of her shoulder that occurred during her "retraining" with the Qunari, a handful of small ones on her thighs from various activities, and a long gash diagonally across her abdomen that happened during a fight with the assassins sent to kill her.
She has become, as of late, fond of the idea of make up, using khol to line her eyes and make them appear larger, and on occasion she picks up dark red lip stain, though normally she refrains from both, as they're too expensive and likely to be sweat off with work. And she doesn't need khol running in her eyes in the middle of a fight. She also enjoys looking at fine dresses and shoes, but she has no practical need for them, and even if she did, no coin to really pay for them.
Writing sample
Shok ebasit hissra....Spinning, blades flashing, dancing around and around, a stab here, a slash there. Why won't it die? It should be dead, die already!
....Meraad astaarit.....
They aren't taught to heal. They aren't taught anything. They are Saarebas. Dangerous things. Untrained mages. It shouldn't know how to heal itself! So why does it keep healing?
....Meraad itwasit,....
It's Arvaarad was dead. The Tal-Vashoth killed him. They took the Saarebas, it was attacking a caravan. Why wouldn't it die? Panting, running, ducking and dodging, she moved, jumping back from one attack, only to run and vault over it for another, stabbing it in the back as often as she could. It wouldn't die. The Tal-Vashoth all had, at her hands, but this Saarebas refused to. It kept killing people, innocent people, who had done no harm to anyone other than to have traveled too close to a camp. This had never been her role. It never would be her role. She should have listened, should have never gotten involved in this fight.
....Aban aqun....
"But the sea is changeless," she whispered rolling under a wild attack, panting harder now. She hadn't told any of the mercenary company she'd joined where she was going. They had all heard the screams, but they had had a job to do. A job that did not involve caravans of innocent people, or Tal-Vashoth. She couldn't ignore it, she couldn't go forward with their plan. An Infiltrator she may have been, Ben-Hassrath she may have been, but her friends had called her Meraad. The Sea. The sea could look calm and gentle, it could lure men into thinking no ill would come to them, and then in an instant pull them farther to sea than they had planned, catching their legs in a rip tide, in the storm and fury that raged just beneath the quiet calm. It never changed, and neither did she.
....Maraas shokra.....
There were still some people left. People who couldn't fight, who just wanted a better life, a safe life. Once she would have said they would have been safe under the Qun. But now, even as familiar words danced through her head, and her eyes looked everywhere, trying to find an advantage, a brief second where she could finally put this beast down, she knew that it would probably mean her life. If saving these people could help her prove her life had meaning still left, beyond working for coin and dodging nobles she used to spy on, then so be it.
Even as she charged one final time at the Saarebas, it was no more to blame for this situation, than any in the caravan. Any sign of magic and they were whisked away, collared and masked, lips sewn shut to prevent further corruption. They were no longer Qunari, or Viddithari, they were things, Dangerous Things. Its Arvaarad was dead, and had no guidance. The Qun was and is not the answer for Mages, and it wasn't for her.
The closer she got, the more desperate its spells, and though it hurt and burned, she pressed on, driving her dagger through its heart. Falling on top of it, she kept it in until the mage stopped moving. Pulling it off, she moved off of them and sniffled. "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun." she whispered, taking her blades to the collar and mask the Saarebas wore. Then she freed their lips, before wiping her eyes. "Ataash varin kata, my friend."
Wobbling as she stood, Amara tensed as she heard familiar foot falls behind her. The mercenary leader, the woman she'd signed the contract with. "Makers Breath," she whispered, looking around at the carnage. Amara stood covered in equal amounts of her blood and that of the dead, swallowing hard. The Elven woman looked at the Dwarf, waiting to hear her tell her her time was over. "By the Stone, Run-Away! What did you get yourself into?"
Amara bowed her head a little, but one of the women in the caravan approached, though shaking and wary of the bloodied elf, she approached the Dwarf with some air of authority. "She saved our lives. When we reach Tantervale, I will make sure my husband speaks to his brother, The Lord Chancellor, and you will be rewarded."
Amara dropped to her knees hard, watching as the rest of the company came forward, most eager to help their leader negotiate a better deal, and the two healers towards her. It seemed they should have listened to her. Though the job they had done paid well, this would pay even better. Her daggers slip from her fingers, as she let her body be laid to rest on the ground, while they administered poultices and the like, vaguely hearing the words "Bonus if she lives".
Staring up at the trees, she turned her head slightly, when she thought she heard her Tama call for her, but as her eyes drooped closed, she knew it was probably just a trick of the mind. She would never see her Tama again. Such was the life..of a Tal-Vashoth.
IC
This is the permissions list for IC (in-character), activity.
Answer the following questions with "yes" or "no", as well as additional information if desired. With IC permissions, it's a good idea to elaborate on what other players can expect from your character if they choose to do any of the following:
Hugging this character: Yes, with character permission
Kissing this character: Yes, with character permission
Flirting with this character: Yes
Fighting with this character: Yes
Injuring this character (include limits and severity): I suppose if we discuss it before hand, and the severity and the logistics of healing were worked out, I'd be fine with it.
Killing this character: It's...a bit final. I would rather avoid death unless absolutely necessary.
Using telepathy/mind reading abilities on this character: She won't like it, but I'm fine with it.
Offensive subjects (things you don’t wish to RP/come across): Anything against forum rules, graphic sexual violence, and torture scenes.
