x APPLICATION x
Jan. 18th, 2011 07:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mmmleatherName: Red
Age: 24
Username:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
redfirelight
Email: rfirelight@gmail.com
IM: thisismyomnitool
Character name: Zevran Arainai
Series: Dragon Age: Origins
Timeline: Before the Landsmeet, after the fight with the Crows.
Background:
Literally the son of a whore, Zevran was born in the capital of the country of Antiva -- aptly named "Antiva City". His mother was a Dalish elf, part of a tribe of nomadic elves, and his father was a woodcutter with a lot of gambling debts. His mother had become a prostitute in order to pay for said debts after his father's debts, and, when his mother died, he ended up being raised in the whorehouse. Needless to say, it gave him a rather interesting perspective on life. He stayed there until the age of seven, when he was purchased by a group known as the Antivan Crows.
The Crows were an assassin's guild, for lack of a better term. They were considered to be the deadliest killers in the world, and did a lot of work in politics. Zevran wasn't too big a fan of this new profession, but, in time, he accepted it, and became one of their more promising, and better, recruits. His jobs from this time range from helping put a prince on the throne, to accidentally tripping a mage who fell to her death from a carriage. He did everything from making deaths look accidental, direct killings, seduction, poison... you name it, he probably did it in the line of duty.
Everything was looking bright for the elf. Until he suddenly developed feelings for another member of the Crows. Her name was Rinna, and, apparently, she was quite taken with him as well. This went against pretty much every rule in the assassin book. They were supposed to be hardened warriors, cold-hearted and unfeeling. Which, of course, meant they were very good at their jobs, since there was no emotional attachment to the act of killing, or the people involved. But, the attraction was just too much, and the two assassins fell in love.
It was, pretty much, doomed from the start. The two of them, and another assassin, Taliesen, took a job together. When the three were ready to hit the mark, Taliesen came forward, stating that he'd learned Rinna had accepted a bribe from their target. She was, accordint to his information, planning to betray them to their target. Zevran and Taliesen killed her, and Zevran proceeded to mock and insult her as she died... while she pleaded innocence, and told him again and again that she loved him.
And then, it turned out, the traitor wasn't Rinna at all. It wasn't until after the target was dead that this was revealed, leaving Zevran thoroughly sickened with himself. He put in a bid for a contract that was certain to be suicide shortly after -- killing the last of Ferelden's Grey Wardens, elite and specially chosen warriors who defended the nation against the threat of the Darkspawn, and their Blight.
Since no one else wanted to try and take on the Grey Wardens, Zevran won the bid, and took the contract. The current Regent of Ferelden had ordered the Wardens' deaths -- since he felt they posed a threat to the nation, moreso than any Darkspawn -- and, so, off Zevran went to see to it. He ambushed the Warden, and party, but, as fate would have it, lost the fight. Instead of killing him, however, the Warden let him live, on the condition that he join the party, to fight the Darkspawn, and rally enough allies to take down Ferelden's regent, and stop the Blight threatening the world.
It seemed a simple enough choice.
He traveled with the Warden and company, assisting in gathering allies from all the major races of Ferelden -- dwarves, men, mages, and the Dalish elves. With this accomplished, they marched to the capital of Ferelden, the city of Denerim, to call what was known as a Landsmeet. There, it was hoped the nobility of Ferelden would side with the Warden and their allies, kick the regent off the throne, and rally the remaining armies against the Blight. And, it was here, that the Crows caught up to Zevran.
Taliesen himself lead the group of Crows sent to finish the job Zevran had fumbled. He offered a choice -- Zevran could either rejoin them, or he could die with the Warden. Zevran chose the Warden, who had, in a sense, spared his life in a way he'd been unable to do for Rinna. He had a loyalty to the Warden now, and he would stand by it.
The team of Crows were wiped out. Since, it seemed, anyone back in Antiva would assume Zevran had died with them, he was, for the first time since he was seven, free of them. He made the decision to stay with the Warden, to see the end of the Blight through.
... Of course, this sort of went down the tubes when, after promising to stay with the Warden, he somehow wound up in another world entirely.
Personality:
Imagine if Puss In Boots and Prince Naveen had a lovechild that was sort of a nymphomaniac. There you go. Zevran in a nutshell.
No, in all seriousness, Zevran is pretty much just like that. He's confident, collected, and, by his own words, suave. He's fairly easygoing, being one of the few members of the Warden's party that doesn't suffer massive approval shifts, based on the decisions the Warden makes. He doesn't mind when the other party members, or anyone else, calls his profession into suspicion, upon his induction into the Warden's group. Things like that tend to roll off his shoulders, and he can shrug off their comments with ease, some deflection, and, occasionally, a rather sharp wit.
Not to say that he makes light of his profession. He knows full well what he did for a living, and makes no excuses for it. It was a way of life, for him, and that's all. He did, he says, enjoy it, on occasion. He tends to respect a strong will to live, and those who fight for their lives, instead of lying down and taking whatever comes.
In addition... Zevran likes sex, sensuality, and physical aesthetics. He's unashamedly flirtatious, and quite open regarding the topic. He believes that one should take the pleasures of life where they can, be it in the company of someone attractive, looking at something or someone pleasing, wine, etc. He doesn't really care what it is, if he enjoys it, and he has a moment, he'll probably indulge. Because, why not?
Appearance:
Zevran is short -- even for an elf (as he tends to be slightly smaller than the PC when they're an elf). He comes up to the shoulders of an average human, an inch or two below average height of most elves seen in game. His skin is fairly tan, and, oddly enough, he has blonde hair -- it's around shoulder-length, usually held out of his face with a couple small braids. Legolas, eat your heart out. There is a tattoo on the left side of his face -- a pair of curved, parallel lines starting above his eyebrow, and ending just above the jawline. According to party banter, he has more of said tattoos, just not where anyone can see them "while wearing clothing and armor". He's fairly muscular, being trained since childhood to kill people, but not bulked up like a bodybuilder. Wry, would be a better term, probably. And, of course... he has pointy ears.
Skills/Abilities:
Zevran is an assassin. He has no supernatural abilities, only the skills granted to him by his Crow training.
He's highly skilled with blades -- usually preferring to use two short blades, or one long and one short -- as well as with poisons. In terms of his skill with a blade, he's shown to be capable of taking down darkspawn, which are considered to be fairly difficult enemies to defeat. His exact capability isn't stated, but, it can be inferred that he's more than just merely good with swords.
Exactly what his skill with poison is, the game doesn't state explicitly, but it can be inferred that he knows enough to kill someone in a manner of his employer's choosing, either quietly and with little evidence, or with a lot of noise and such. He knows how to pick a lock or two, and can remain unseen and undetected as he moves through a room, thanks to his stealth training.
Spoken/Written languages: Common, and what appears to be Antivan.
Items:
- Leather armor, similar to what is what is shown here. It ends in a leather kilt... ish. Thing.
- Boots, from his homeland. Specifically these.
- Dalish leather gloves.
- Various health poultices, no poisons, sadly.
- Empty scabbards, where his shortswords used to be.
Third person sample:
Darkspawn. Always with the darkspawn. One would think, that after a while, fate, or the Maker, whichever, would get bored of constantly throwing packs of the blighted beasts into their path. Maybe some bandits, for a change. That would have been nice. However, Zevran's feelings on the matter had seemingly fallen on deaf ears. The party had only barely broken camp, moving on to whatever new task awaited them, when, out of nowhere, they'd stumbled across an ambush. Warriors waded into the fray with their usual battle cries and crash of armor and weapons, while their mages fell back with the bard, magic and arrows sniping into the horde with lethal accuracy.
Speaking of which...
A ball of cold magic streaked past, barely missing his left ear, and turning the encroaching darkspawn grunt to a solid sheet of ugly black ice. Huh -- Morrigan must have still been annoyed with him. Sad, really. He'd won that bet fair and square. She had no cause to be so irritated over so trivial a thing. And she was very much worth all those compliments he'd paid her. If only she'd listened!
Sadly, there didn't seem to be any more time to dwell on the tragedy of the fair Morrigan. As his shortswords whipped through the chest of an unfortunate darkspawn, black fluid spurting in a geyser from the wound, the battlefield was shaken with a bone-rattling bellow. The party paused, the rhythm and chaos of the fight broken for one brief moment as the noise registered.
"Great," Alistair drawled, somewhere to Zevran's right, his shield ramming a path through the clustered enemy. "They've brought an ogre."
"Ah! But you know what they say about ogres, my friend?" Zevran shot back, his voice a bright, cheerful contrast to the templar's.
The pause that followed his question wasn't entirely due to Alistair's beating the darkspawn in front of him brutally over the head with the base of his shield. "No, I'm not even going to answer that," he said. "You just keep that one to yourself."
"If you insist! How sad... it was a particularly good anecdote."
First person sample:
Huh.
I suppose I cannot argue with these accommodations. The baths are particularly impressive... hm. This certainly beats sleeping on the ground in leaky little tents, with wet dogs. Though, I would prefer it if I had signed this contract of my own accord... I am not sure yet how I feel about being drafted for a strange army.
Besides, I am no good with military discipline. Too... disciplined. You understand.
So! If it is all the same to you, my mysterious hosts, I will be returning your payment, and returning to Ferelden! This sounds fair to you, yes?
Age: 24
Username:
redfirelightEmail: rfirelight@gmail.com
IM: thisismyomnitool
Character name: Zevran Arainai
Series: Dragon Age: Origins
Timeline: Before the Landsmeet, after the fight with the Crows.
Background:
Literally the son of a whore, Zevran was born in the capital of the country of Antiva -- aptly named "Antiva City". His mother was a Dalish elf, part of a tribe of nomadic elves, and his father was a woodcutter with a lot of gambling debts. His mother had become a prostitute in order to pay for said debts after his father's debts, and, when his mother died, he ended up being raised in the whorehouse. Needless to say, it gave him a rather interesting perspective on life. He stayed there until the age of seven, when he was purchased by a group known as the Antivan Crows.
The Crows were an assassin's guild, for lack of a better term. They were considered to be the deadliest killers in the world, and did a lot of work in politics. Zevran wasn't too big a fan of this new profession, but, in time, he accepted it, and became one of their more promising, and better, recruits. His jobs from this time range from helping put a prince on the throne, to accidentally tripping a mage who fell to her death from a carriage. He did everything from making deaths look accidental, direct killings, seduction, poison... you name it, he probably did it in the line of duty.
Everything was looking bright for the elf. Until he suddenly developed feelings for another member of the Crows. Her name was Rinna, and, apparently, she was quite taken with him as well. This went against pretty much every rule in the assassin book. They were supposed to be hardened warriors, cold-hearted and unfeeling. Which, of course, meant they were very good at their jobs, since there was no emotional attachment to the act of killing, or the people involved. But, the attraction was just too much, and the two assassins fell in love.
It was, pretty much, doomed from the start. The two of them, and another assassin, Taliesen, took a job together. When the three were ready to hit the mark, Taliesen came forward, stating that he'd learned Rinna had accepted a bribe from their target. She was, accordint to his information, planning to betray them to their target. Zevran and Taliesen killed her, and Zevran proceeded to mock and insult her as she died... while she pleaded innocence, and told him again and again that she loved him.
And then, it turned out, the traitor wasn't Rinna at all. It wasn't until after the target was dead that this was revealed, leaving Zevran thoroughly sickened with himself. He put in a bid for a contract that was certain to be suicide shortly after -- killing the last of Ferelden's Grey Wardens, elite and specially chosen warriors who defended the nation against the threat of the Darkspawn, and their Blight.
Since no one else wanted to try and take on the Grey Wardens, Zevran won the bid, and took the contract. The current Regent of Ferelden had ordered the Wardens' deaths -- since he felt they posed a threat to the nation, moreso than any Darkspawn -- and, so, off Zevran went to see to it. He ambushed the Warden, and party, but, as fate would have it, lost the fight. Instead of killing him, however, the Warden let him live, on the condition that he join the party, to fight the Darkspawn, and rally enough allies to take down Ferelden's regent, and stop the Blight threatening the world.
It seemed a simple enough choice.
He traveled with the Warden and company, assisting in gathering allies from all the major races of Ferelden -- dwarves, men, mages, and the Dalish elves. With this accomplished, they marched to the capital of Ferelden, the city of Denerim, to call what was known as a Landsmeet. There, it was hoped the nobility of Ferelden would side with the Warden and their allies, kick the regent off the throne, and rally the remaining armies against the Blight. And, it was here, that the Crows caught up to Zevran.
Taliesen himself lead the group of Crows sent to finish the job Zevran had fumbled. He offered a choice -- Zevran could either rejoin them, or he could die with the Warden. Zevran chose the Warden, who had, in a sense, spared his life in a way he'd been unable to do for Rinna. He had a loyalty to the Warden now, and he would stand by it.
The team of Crows were wiped out. Since, it seemed, anyone back in Antiva would assume Zevran had died with them, he was, for the first time since he was seven, free of them. He made the decision to stay with the Warden, to see the end of the Blight through.
... Of course, this sort of went down the tubes when, after promising to stay with the Warden, he somehow wound up in another world entirely.
Personality:
Imagine if Puss In Boots and Prince Naveen had a lovechild that was sort of a nymphomaniac. There you go. Zevran in a nutshell.
No, in all seriousness, Zevran is pretty much just like that. He's confident, collected, and, by his own words, suave. He's fairly easygoing, being one of the few members of the Warden's party that doesn't suffer massive approval shifts, based on the decisions the Warden makes. He doesn't mind when the other party members, or anyone else, calls his profession into suspicion, upon his induction into the Warden's group. Things like that tend to roll off his shoulders, and he can shrug off their comments with ease, some deflection, and, occasionally, a rather sharp wit.
Not to say that he makes light of his profession. He knows full well what he did for a living, and makes no excuses for it. It was a way of life, for him, and that's all. He did, he says, enjoy it, on occasion. He tends to respect a strong will to live, and those who fight for their lives, instead of lying down and taking whatever comes.
In addition... Zevran likes sex, sensuality, and physical aesthetics. He's unashamedly flirtatious, and quite open regarding the topic. He believes that one should take the pleasures of life where they can, be it in the company of someone attractive, looking at something or someone pleasing, wine, etc. He doesn't really care what it is, if he enjoys it, and he has a moment, he'll probably indulge. Because, why not?
Appearance:
Zevran is short -- even for an elf (as he tends to be slightly smaller than the PC when they're an elf). He comes up to the shoulders of an average human, an inch or two below average height of most elves seen in game. His skin is fairly tan, and, oddly enough, he has blonde hair -- it's around shoulder-length, usually held out of his face with a couple small braids. Legolas, eat your heart out. There is a tattoo on the left side of his face -- a pair of curved, parallel lines starting above his eyebrow, and ending just above the jawline. According to party banter, he has more of said tattoos, just not where anyone can see them "while wearing clothing and armor". He's fairly muscular, being trained since childhood to kill people, but not bulked up like a bodybuilder. Wry, would be a better term, probably. And, of course... he has pointy ears.
Skills/Abilities:
Zevran is an assassin. He has no supernatural abilities, only the skills granted to him by his Crow training.
He's highly skilled with blades -- usually preferring to use two short blades, or one long and one short -- as well as with poisons. In terms of his skill with a blade, he's shown to be capable of taking down darkspawn, which are considered to be fairly difficult enemies to defeat. His exact capability isn't stated, but, it can be inferred that he's more than just merely good with swords.
Exactly what his skill with poison is, the game doesn't state explicitly, but it can be inferred that he knows enough to kill someone in a manner of his employer's choosing, either quietly and with little evidence, or with a lot of noise and such. He knows how to pick a lock or two, and can remain unseen and undetected as he moves through a room, thanks to his stealth training.
Spoken/Written languages: Common, and what appears to be Antivan.
Items:
- Leather armor, similar to what is what is shown here. It ends in a leather kilt... ish. Thing.
- Boots, from his homeland. Specifically these.
- Dalish leather gloves.
- Various health poultices, no poisons, sadly.
- Empty scabbards, where his shortswords used to be.
Third person sample:
Darkspawn. Always with the darkspawn. One would think, that after a while, fate, or the Maker, whichever, would get bored of constantly throwing packs of the blighted beasts into their path. Maybe some bandits, for a change. That would have been nice. However, Zevran's feelings on the matter had seemingly fallen on deaf ears. The party had only barely broken camp, moving on to whatever new task awaited them, when, out of nowhere, they'd stumbled across an ambush. Warriors waded into the fray with their usual battle cries and crash of armor and weapons, while their mages fell back with the bard, magic and arrows sniping into the horde with lethal accuracy.
Speaking of which...
A ball of cold magic streaked past, barely missing his left ear, and turning the encroaching darkspawn grunt to a solid sheet of ugly black ice. Huh -- Morrigan must have still been annoyed with him. Sad, really. He'd won that bet fair and square. She had no cause to be so irritated over so trivial a thing. And she was very much worth all those compliments he'd paid her. If only she'd listened!
Sadly, there didn't seem to be any more time to dwell on the tragedy of the fair Morrigan. As his shortswords whipped through the chest of an unfortunate darkspawn, black fluid spurting in a geyser from the wound, the battlefield was shaken with a bone-rattling bellow. The party paused, the rhythm and chaos of the fight broken for one brief moment as the noise registered.
"Great," Alistair drawled, somewhere to Zevran's right, his shield ramming a path through the clustered enemy. "They've brought an ogre."
"Ah! But you know what they say about ogres, my friend?" Zevran shot back, his voice a bright, cheerful contrast to the templar's.
The pause that followed his question wasn't entirely due to Alistair's beating the darkspawn in front of him brutally over the head with the base of his shield. "No, I'm not even going to answer that," he said. "You just keep that one to yourself."
"If you insist! How sad... it was a particularly good anecdote."
First person sample:
Huh.
I suppose I cannot argue with these accommodations. The baths are particularly impressive... hm. This certainly beats sleeping on the ground in leaky little tents, with wet dogs. Though, I would prefer it if I had signed this contract of my own accord... I am not sure yet how I feel about being drafted for a strange army.
Besides, I am no good with military discipline. Too... disciplined. You understand.
So! If it is all the same to you, my mysterious hosts, I will be returning your payment, and returning to Ferelden! This sounds fair to you, yes?
