Jump to content

Soul

Members
  • Content count

    79
  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

    1

Soul last won the day on November 10

Soul had the most liked content!

6 Followers

About Soul

  • Rank
    Advanced Member
  • Birthday 04/30/1998

Contact Methods

  • Yahoo
    allthosestars@yahoo.com

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Female
  • Location
    Florida, USA
  • Interests
    Cosplaying, writing, photography, archery, soccer, basketball, drawing, sketching, and education.
  • PA Profile
    Ubel

Recent Profile Visitors

2,597 profile views
  1. (So, I'm having a really hard time finding the patience to reply anymore. By this point, she would have already attacked him, and for the sake of the RP I'm fighting against that urge. I can understand Creus' point, but, speaking from my character's view, he's not worth speaking to. Thus, I really can't see this going anywhere for she would rather just send people after him to forcefully take the weapon back. Sorry, but this is what I feel when I place myself in Gale's shoes.)
  2. The muscles in her face contracted, causing a vein in her temple to protrude. Humans, in her eyes, would always be the same. They wished to speak of their kind, or highly of themselves, yet turn around do acts in which the Qun would have never have permitted. The gas used by the Imperuim caused their own to die in agony, all the while preaching of how slavery was correct. At least the Saarebas are taken care of to a decent point where they are not killed. Mages in other lands are killed relentless by the Templars who believe magic itself is evil, and those who bare it are entirely evil. Perhaps such thoughts were what influenced Qunari mages to be chained and restrained. History records did not state when this practice began, but she could only hope that it had been decided upon after western fear had reached Par Vollen. "The humans I have met and seen, even near my home, have killed their own to achieve their own end," she growled as she whirled on her heels. Her white teeth were bared to display her intense rage and dislike for the scavenger. "Why should I hold humans in any good light after being surrounded by how truly monstrous they can be? Killing children, women, innocents because they simply do not care? As-eb vashe-qalab! Even the Qun does not permit such actions! Humans, no matter how hypocritically you speak, will always be seen as barbaric to those who have grown seeing only the worst of them. You have not seen through my eyes, have you? You have not been put in charge of hundreds of lives and felt a blade plunge into you with every death, have you? Do not speak so highly! The world consists of more experiences than yours!" With this, and ignoring is latter question, the Qunari marched on toward her camp. If he followed, she knew he had some common sense and did not wish to be torn apart by a lone warrior. Honestly, she would feel more than comfortable sending one of her more experienced warriors to procure the blade. After the way he spoke, she felt her skin prickle and that typically caused her to switch into battle-mode. If it was not for the waves of magic hitting her skin, she would have launched an attack. As it where, the feel of the magic being entirely different, she did not know what to expect of the foolish male. Thus, she would have to restrain herself till she obtained a better grip on her situation, and his condition.
  3. The Arvaarad snorted at him, for he knew little of the plight her people suffered from. Mages from the Imperuim had tried to invade Seheron, and reclaim it, thus causing children and innocents to die. Then the fog warriors in Par Vollen and Sehereon use gas to camouflage themselves to deal attacks. Amongst all rebels, they were the only ones honorable, though she never had the pleasure to cross steel with them. The worst were the Tal-Vasoth, those who had betrayed the Qun and work as mercenaries. They attacked, though only away from their home town. She was born and raised in a battlefield, thus she had no reason to fear death - whether it came from a blade or frost. The winters and the changing of the seasons on Par Vollen were not horrid. Most of their city was modernized, thus the cold nor heat bothered them. Houses that entrapped the cold in the summer, and systems to heat the home usually kept most content. Even if they did not have this, their skin was tougher than most and their genetic makeup differed completely from that of a human. Food was another matter, however. Yet, she knew she and her kin would find a way to leave this country before winter fully grasped this land. Ensuring their safety was her only priority and that included sending them back to their home country. "You are mistaken to think we fear death, human," she stated gruffly. Neither she nor her kin did. They were born ready to parish for the Qun and their belief. The only ones she knew had little choice were the Saarebas, and she was their only advocate, here and in their home. This was why she felt frustrated that she would not merely let it end here, for her desire wished it to be so. She had suffered the inner battle long enough, and she knew that the Ben-Hassrath could not help soothe her mind. The wounds they inflicted had relieved some pain, yet the remnants were as sharp as any shrapnel. "Ataash varin kata. In the end lies glory." With this, she turned her on her heel and began to walk in the direction of camp. "It would be wise if you accompanied me," she cautioned. "Some of my brothers are not so diplomatic when it comes to any of the other species. Our warriors are trained to kill, and only that." Meaning, they would find no reason to speak to him, and she doubted that he could survive a Qunari attacking him. All were trained to perfection, perfect soldiers in a word, and she knew that their movements were ingrained in their mind. "Then again, I might be disrespecting your species by assuming that, and, also, I wasn't assuming religion. Most honor their dead by using the body. Even I know that. None honor them using their weapons, like we do. Correct me if I'm mistaken." Some sarcasm had slipped into tone, thought it was very faint.
  4. The female sighed, and narrowed her eyes. This male, it seemed, was quite idiotic. If he knew of the power she held in her hands and the damage she could cause with a simple twirl of her hammer, he would retreat and, at the very least demonstrate some respect. Perhaps that was what made it seem as if all humans were fools. It was the fact that they developed they could merely speak and people would bend to their will. If she had been trained differently, she was certain she would have taken the blade form him already. "As-eb vashe-qalab," she hissed under her breath as she battled with the rage boiling in her veins. ("This is bull****.") "Since all you humans seem ignorant of the ways to respect the deceased, I shall state it simply," she growled, her rage now showing in her orange eyes. "Weapons from our deceased are valuable as they are what we take to honor them. The bodies are useless to us. The reverse is true for your kind. You bury your dead, honor their corpses, and, at times, turn them to ash. Such ways are barbaric in our eyes. By collecting the blades of our fallen, we honor their bravery and sacrifice. Thus, that weapon holds no value to anyone of common stature. Most humans cannot even afford to hold it steady, let alone use it." "Also, our Saarebas are more than well equipped to recover such treasures," she continued, though her voice grew tight as she became more impatient. "Recovering such jewels and metals is not a matter if, but a matter of when." It was true, she had been trained to utilize their abilities in the case of an emergency. While this was not so urgent, she knew better than to attack an innocent when there may have been better methods to deal with him. Though, he was trending toward dangerous waters, and she knew the ice further in would not hold his weight.
  5. The Arvaarad had nothing of true value on her that would interest the scavenger, but she knew better than to state this directly. The one object she knew would hold some value to the human before her would be the gem embedded into her hammer. Though, she was hesitant to hand over such a treasure, for it symbolized her rank. Even so, she knew that it was doubtful that he would trade over the weapon for a mere scrap of metal that was embedded into the ground. However, it was known in most lands that Qunari mercenaries offered their services for more than a pretty coin. That was one option, but she was hesitant to offer such, for she doubted he would be enticed by the offer. Her piercing orange gaze met his before it strayed, landing on the raising water behind him. Darkness cloaked the area behind him, but she knew of the treasure the dreadnought carried. It was commonly known that jewels and precious metals were sought after by the common populace. Even the Qunari had used foreign metal to produce formidable weapons, not that it was known. They were a proud race, and would never admit to using resources they did not farm themselves. An nearly inaudible sigh escaped her as she turned her gaze back onto the human. A soft stream, an accent, of magic reached her and she knew it originated from him. It contained a different pattern and felt different as it lapped against her skin. She wondered if her armor would be able to tolerate a direct attack from this mage, though she knew she could retreat and rally her platoon if needed. No matter how powerful the mage, a decent number of warriors could easily end his life. Thus, if he attacked or chose to be difficult, she would feel no worry prickle at her skin. "I have nothing on me, but there were valuables on the dreadnaught," she stated, unflinching even though it wounded her to tell a well-kept secret of the Qunari. "Not the steel of the ship, but gold and jewels brought from Fereldan. Such metals are precious as they cannot be obtained in this land, and could be sold for a pretty coin. If that does not entice you, the metal from the ship, while heavy for your kind, can be crafted into any weapon of your choice. We have a skilled maker of weapons among us, and he is able to craft any weapon, human or Qunari." "And to assuage any fears, we are diplomatic and wish to avoid bloodshed when possible, but are more than capable warriors," she added, to ensure he understood none of her people would attack unless provoke or ordered to. Qunari had once walked in peace, but the changing world had brought about wars waged in the name of the Qun. Whether such wars could have been avoided if the leaders had not been afraid of change is unknown. What is understood is that she must protect her own and follow her path, no matter how long or bloody it may happen to be. It was ingrained in her blood, after all.
  6. The grey warrior had kept a dutiful eye on the human, her body and armor blending into the dark blanket of the night. The cold air stung her skin, yet it was nothing compared to the cold waters that surrounded her home. While it was encouraged that Qunari die along with their ship, all were trained to swim encase an enemy escaped them. After all, the battle waged between the Imperuim was one that brought easiness to any's heart, and to ensure a stable foothold on that front, any warrior or mage needed to be able to swim to slaughter any rival. Her orange eyes glowed dully in the night as she stalked the small male, her cautious movements making little sound as they glided over sand and metal. The weapons on her back offered some resistance, yet it was not enough to cause a mistake. If anything, she felt a heavier burden rest on her shoulders. She was the front defense of her sleeping platoon, and, while formidable in battle, any could be killed while they slept. Losing anymore comrades would be unneeded if all she needed to do was keep track of one measly human. After all, he had not even detected her presence. Whoever trained him clearly did not do so well. Her muscles had remained tense, charged in case she needed to attack, till he began to trek up the beach. It seemed he had ended his search for anything valuable, and she would have relaxed if it was not for the dull thud that pierced the air a second later. Her breath hitched, for she knew well what that sound was. The metal used was valuable, in a skilled blacksmith's hands. Though, the sentimental value to the Qunari exceeded that monetary value. At this moment, she cursed the training that forced her to be diplomatic first. "Mertam." ("Light boot", an insult). The hiss naturally left her lips as she slowly stood to her full height, ensuring that she was well within sight. Her weapons lay sheathed in their holster, yet her muscles remained tense. The expression she wore bore disgust and hostility, yet her training distracted that this was necessary to avoid further bloodshed. Being killed by this puny mage would offer no honor. Under the cold moonlight, the Vitaar that painted her skin glistened like any metal. (Vitaar: "Poison Armor." A warpaint used by the Qunari that is toxic to other races and has a metal-like quality once applied to the skin.) "Scavenger is what you are, correct?" She inquired, though her tone held certainty. "Meaning you only seek to gain profit by what you encounter, correct? That weapon holds no value to your people, or to any that inhibit this land. Not even your most skilled blacksmith would be able to melt down the mineral used to create Bassrath-Kata. It holds no merit to carry to your village and sell. That is why I propose to buy it from you. Name your price."
  7. The moonlight provided little aid in distinguishing landmarks and where she had wondered to.Even so, she knew that she would be able to sense a hostile presence. The tension that rippled off her enemy had been something she had been trained to detect. This time, she only felt a slight charge, though it was far from hostile. In fact, it seemed to be stemming from a connection to the Fade. Such a transition was not intentional, for a mage could not mask it from her well-trained mind. Even so, she knew better than to approach with violent or malicious intentions. Though her armor was in tact, the burn on her back would take several fortnights to heal, even with the help of magic. Agitating it without there being a set cause would be foolish, and would cause the grey-giant to intentionally re-open a wound. A soft sigh escaped her as she placed her hands on her hips and lifted her gaze. The bright, white light that touched her skin as she reached the water's edge caused her to furrow her eyebrows. Compared to the moon in Par Vollen, this one seemed to offer a different warmth, one she had been trained to disregard: freedom. Perhaps this was the Tal-Vasoth, or those who had abandoned the Qun entirely, had all decided to stray from the true path. Her lips furrowed, too, as this thought. The security of the Qun was what drew people in, for having a set role and responsibilities seemed akin to a dream. Though, questions were never raised and doubts were never soothed in a definite manner. Either you were re-educated, killed or forced to be Tal-Vasoth. You wondered if there were any of such Qunari here, for they had settled in the oddest countries. If so, then she would have some mission, some purpose, as to why she was here. "Meravas." ("So shall it be.") No one would be searching for them, and a Qunari without a set purpose would equal a Tal-Vasoth. Thus, the only remedy would be to place all effort toward finding passage to her homeland. How possible this would be, thought, is difficult to say. Perhaps the Saarebas would live here in better comfort than they would at home, but she knew that they may turn dangerous if permitted to taste freedom. Some of them had gone insane while in her care, and she rarely let them simply rot in their prisons. If she decided to do this, it would eliminate some weight and perhaps the warriors would be able to return, at least. She knew some of them desperately wished to boast of the past victory, and she could not blame them. Though that battle paled in comparison to the most recent one. Slowly, she turned her attention toward the direction in which the dreadnaught had once stood. Even from this distance, she could make out a few jutting pieces of steel sticking in the sand. The cold, metallic surface reflected in the moonlight in an unsettling manner. Even so, she forced herself to head toward it. Perhaps now she would be able to retrieve some of the weapons that had been claimed by the sea. Even so, it was more probable that the sea currents had taken them far away from this foreign shore. That was when a smaller figure, perhaps the one Kubant had spotted earlier. Swiftly, she concealed herself. She would not attack, though she did not wish to be utterly defenseless either.
  8. The anti-climax brought some peace to the group, for they reverted to their usual behavior of speaking in low tones. It was likely that the warriors were discussing what their next move should be, for the most reasonable action was to seize the human ship. However, even as they were stranded in a foreign land, using that ship would be impossible. The weight of all their people and equipment would cause the ship not to last. This one of the reasons why the Qunari had used steel in their ships. Wood had been deemed unsuitable and has cost several innocent lives. Thus, Arvaarad had to seek another way to find passage to their home. The sound of many weapons hitting the sand and then clanking against each other echoed throughout the area. With little thought, she adjusted her holder and made an adjustment to hold five more. The weight would cause her to be sluggish while she adjusted to the additional pounds, yet she knew she could not leave these weapons here. They were the sole remains of those who had fought at her side, and who had ensured their victory. Bodies were useless to the Qun, for the soul that had been there had been released. Burning a body held no honor, and that was why many Qunari viewed those who buried or burned their dead as foolish. The action was more for those who mourn than the actual person. She bent down and collected her share of the load and slid them, one by one, into the holder. The weight was as she had expected it to be, yet the burden of being responsible for all the lives lost was much worst. Mentally freeing herself of that sad note, she turned her attention toward the horizon. The wide, endless ocean spread out after the sandy shores, and mimicked the hopeless she felt. Her large hand fell from the handle of the foreign weapon of her brother. She bit her lip and turned her back toward the now setting sun. "Holster the weapons of the fallen and begin to set up camp," she ordered the warriors who had gathered around her. "Saarebas, half of you go to the ocean and try to fish. Any means necessary." After she cut the group in half using her arm to gesture, she turned toward the remaining Saarebas. "Rest. We'll have camp set up soon." One or two grunted in response but they all settled down where they stood. Silence descended upon them, as was expected. She, too, sat down amongst them, keeping vigilance over the warriors who were working, the mages that were fishing, and the group behind her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Arvaarad had two pieces of fish before her, untouched and now cold due to the constant breeze. Her appetite had always been non-existent, yet she had made sure she had time to consume something through the day. Yet, the strange smells and sights of her surroundings caused something to twist and turn in her stomach. It was unease, one that indicated that there was something near. Even so, she knew better than to leave the camp unattended. Most were asleep, and leaving them in this shape would be dangerous. The rustling of clothes behind her caused her to start, but she soon relaxed when a Saarebas sat beside her. Much larger than her, he towered above her and his limbs pushed against her side, though she knew this was accidental contact. "What is it Kubant? If you want my fish, you can have it." The mage shook his head and gestured with his arm toward the shore. A series of incoherent grumbles followed, which made her feel pity for the male. The pain of having your lips sown shut for life was not a kind fate. Deicing to turn her head to follow his finger, her orange eyes met the very faint form of a figure. "G. . .o." "Then, watch the camp and protect all at any means necessary, Kubant," she stated as she swiftly got to her feet and began to head into the darkness. Specters were not held to any sort of fact in Qunari culture, thus she felt no fear at meeting a trapped soul. Such things did not exist in the Qun, nor anywhere in Par Vollen. After all, all that gave such rumors fuel was the fear of the unknown and life after death. Thus, the figure must either be a result of her eyes adjusting to the dark or an inhabitant.
  9. By the time she had sent the nearest human mage flying, the Arvaarad felt the blue flames gathered by the mages prickle her skin. Goosebumps rose, dotting her grey skin, and displaying how utterly terrifying those under her care were. Even if she had been trained to quell any mage, human or Qunari, she knew it best to avoid this attack. This was why she raised her hammer and shouted, namely at all those under her command, "Ebasit kata itwa-ost!" (It is ended. You all have fallen.) At this, all Qunari warriors and Saarebas moved away from the dreadnaught, marching in unison. The unified movement symbolized the perfect grip the Qun had on all present, and how unshakable one's loyalty could be. The Arvaarad followed suit, behind the Saarebas to ensure they were at a safe distance and would not harmed by the blast. Naturally, this occurred within a few seconds, leaving their enemies successfully stunned. That was when the mages released their fire, aiming at their own steel ship. Even in this battle, no dreadnaughts had been lost, thus the result of one "sinking" was unrecorded in the enemy's country. However, these highly equipped ships did not simply sink. No, that would mean any could salvage its parts and use it against the Qun. That was why it was designed to explode before it was fully submersed in water. The instant the fire touched the ship, the steel weapon exploded several times. Shock waves rippled through the air, causing the tall she to crouch low to the ground in order to maintain her balance. The Saarebas behind her did the same, even though the weigh in chains and armor would have kept them steady. Even so, they were trained to follow orders and nothing else. Unlike human mages, Qunari mages had little to no will. The instant magic is shown, they are locked away and trained in gruesome ways, more so than what the Arvaarad had undone during her "re-education." "Ebadim astaar, Qunari itwa-toh. Asit tal-eb." (They will rise, and the Qunari will cause them to fall. That's how it will be.) If not all were dead, a majority were for that explosion can easily kill a Qunari, even at a safe distance. A few stray pieces of steel had grazed her skin, causing red blood to intermix with that of her enemies'. Aside from this, she was relatively unharmed and she expected that her men were as well, since she was the closest to the blast. Nonetheless, some had lost their life in either the naval battle or afterward. This was part of war, and that could not be changed. "Collect our brothers' weapons," she ordered the remaining warriors as she turned her attention toward the Saarebas. Only a few had noticeable wounds, but there were a few missing. Some soldiers must have slipped past her defenses and attacked them while they had been preoccupied. "Panahedan, Saarebas." (Take refuge in safety.) These words were whispered, softly, to ensure none heard her heartfelt parting with those who had been entrusted to her. "Saarebas, stay by me." Aside from the enemy being dead, there was no plan and no rescue coming, ever. If she did not find a way back, then ti was safe to say she either died or thrived in this foreign land. Thus, she needed to ensure that the Saarebas remained close at hand, for their protection and for the protection of others. Slowly, as she exhaled, she placed her hammer on its holder, which was located on her back.
  10. The battle was silent on the giants' side, with only an occasional order or grunt. The sight was familiar and the sounds even more so, and it brought back both pleasure and pain. It was quite normal for any warrior to take pride in their victory, and the Qunari did so more than most. It was neither a feast, or a large celebration. In fact, it involved only one and that was typically enough to satisfy the adrenaline that would continue to surge in their veins for hours to come. While Arvaarad did not partake in such rituals on a common basis, she knew she would reflect on this battle with great respect, and deep grief for those who would be lost. The Saarebas formed a uniform defense line the instant they were greeted by the warmth of sunlight. The massive males and females shackled in collars, chains, with both eyes and lips sown shut, caused the opponents to waver. It was not a common site to have such a large force housed on one dreadnaught, but one knew better than to meet a rivals's expectations. With little effort, the powerful magi began to concentrate their life force. However, this attack would take some time to form and the handler knew this well enough. She would not allow this to be a repeat of that massacre, not if she could prevent it in any means possible. The enemy, once shaken by the sight of the Saarebas, swiftly recovered and began to step in their direction. Swords, shields, and staffs raised, the humans mounted their assault on their reinforcements. The Saarebas did not move a muscle, for they were trained to merely use their gift and aid the Qun in whatever way the higher-ups decided. That was why the Arvaarad gracefully used the shoulder of a nearby Saarebas to propel herself toward the enemy. A grunt escaped the mage's lips, but only one of surprise. It would take much more abuse to harm or even pierce the collar they wore. Sand rose from where her feet landed, sending a medium-sized spray in the direction of the smaller species. Shields rose in response, forming a formation, to protect against the spray and whatever attack the large she may dish out. At this same moment, the human mages began to chant as their eyes twinkled in the heat of the moment. Even so, she had been trained to cancel magic and the armor she wore attested to this rank. With a mere smirk, the she raised her heavy hammer and dropped it upon the top of one of the shield's surrounding her. The shield creaked, sturdy as expected, yet she knew quite well that the human holding it could not offer much resistance. With gritted teeth, the Arvaarad applied more force and the shield bearer buckled. This created a momentary opening, and she leapt at this chance. if she could kill the human mages, she could greet victory with bared fangs. Thus, using her stature and agility, she swiftly slipped through the opening, stepping on the human beneath the shield in the process. Something snapped, but she did not let it weight in her mind. After all, this was a battle. Pity or sympathy did not exist in such a situation. The mages realized their error, yet there was little time to halt the impact of the weapon. With a calculated and powerful swipe, two opponents were flung to the side. Whether dazed or dead, she did not care. Her duty was clear. "Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun." (The tide rises, the tide falls, the sea is unchanged.) Another powerful blow met little resistance. "Var-toh katashok, ebadim maraas issala toh." (They will struggle, and we will turn them into nothing.) Blood coated her mouth as she tasted the blood, which called upon her title and class of Berserker. Fire lapped at her back as she had mistakenly turned her back on a enemy mage. The pain did nothing to halt her assault, for she simply whirled on her heel and used the momentum to land a powerful blow. "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun." (Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless. There is nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun.)
  11. The rhythmic rocking of the dreadnaught soothed the troubled Arvaarad's soul, yet she was eager to return home. Her temporary deployment in a far off land had been met with success, and this would please the Arishok for certain. Perhaps it would even help her regain some honor and respect from those above her, for once. They judgmental gazes had always pierced her back. However, she could not blame them for holding such an opinion. It was rare for a female Qunari to be in her position. Males were commonly the ones who were warriors and entrusted with leading invasions and platoons. Even so, the Tamassrans had long ago dictatd that she was worthy to hold this position, and no Qunari could argue with their verdict. Her calloused hands gripped the steel railing that ran along a short potion of the deck. The sea breeze brought salt and a different scent, one she found alien. With narrowed orange eyes, she exhaled and leaned her elbows against the railing. The cold and wet steel reminded her where she was and the grisly state of affairs. It had been several years since this war had begun, and the more she participated, the more her eyes opened. While taught to be emotionless and proud, even her taunt back became subjected to the weight of watching her comrades die. Her gaze fell onto the ocean lapping against the steel exterior and then closed. However, this only lasted a moment. "Teth a!" The warning call was shouted from nearby, jolting her from her thoughts. Without hesitation, her body maneuvered around the bodies that rushed to man the weapons onboard. As if synchronizing with her platoon, she wove her way toward the command center of the large, steel ship. From there, she witnessed the flag of two swords: the flag of a noble family in the rival continent. Her teeth gripped, her jaw squared, and she spat, "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun." Those surrounding her straightened their posture and proceeded with their duties. As soon as she emerged from the center, warriors gathered near her. These were those who were not needed to man the ship, and she knew she would need them. "Vinek kathas! Anaan esaam Qun!" The males replied in shouts before moving in uniform order toward the deck. The spear-throwers were positioned within seconds, and she felt relieved that she had been able to organize the platoon this quickly and effectively. "Grasp your foes in the jaws of the aban-ataashi!" At this, the spear-throwers took aim and fired once the ship was within range. However, the enemy mages countered with a fireball attack of their own. The ship rocked violent, for dreadnaughts for not made to sustain much damage. This was why the Arvaarad shouted, "Saarebas." However, her call falls on deaf ears for all around her are entangled in the battling unfolding. This left her no choice but to retrieve the mages herself, and she knew how pivotal their aid could be. The ship creaked and groaned constantly, and the rocking became steady. Even so, as she slid on the metallic floor, Arvaarad did not halt in her advance. However, by the time the young Qunari reached the holding station, a large jolt caused her to be knocked against the bars hard. Blood coated her tongue, and bathed her taste buds in a sea of metallic. Slowly, she began to regain her footing, yet, another jostle caused her to be knocked off her feet once more. They had breached, and she knew it. Somehow she had avoided death on the dreadnaught. "Vinek kathas," she told the Saarebas before her as she opened their cage and permitted them to leave, Each was silent as they pass her, yet they followed the path toward the deck. Once all had left the room, she charged after them with her War Hammar in hand.
  12. Qunari, horned men and women from another continent, have begun to wage war against those who dare oppose them. Their main aim: to spread their religion, the "Qun." However, such creatures have always been at the edge of the world, miles away from the main continent. That is, however, till, they are run aground by a passing enemy ship. The battle ensues will determine more than the victor and survivor. The Qunari “They call us barbarians, but look at how they treat each other.” Arvaarad Nicknamed Gale "One Who Holds Back Evil" Warrior of the Berserker class. Twenty-four years old Personality:As per customs, Gale was raised and trained by the Tamassrans. It was there that she began to understand the true path she was meant to walk, and where she gained her unshakable loyalty and stubbornness. Like all Qunari, she is quite attached to her family (meaning the Qunari as a whole not a familial unit), and has put her own life on the line to ensure her comrad's life. This has resulted in her baring more pain than those around her, even as she passed her training and became an Arvaarad. When she is the midst of a battle, she hardens her heart like any and plunges straight for the enemy. However, when in isolation, she find herself weighed down by the loses and the cruel treatment of the Saarebas. Qunari are not known to cry, yet she had come close several times in the past few years, and this is why her loyalty brought her to the Ben-Hassrath. There, she endured rigorous torture as being re-educated, yet, when she left their care, she still felt compassion toward the mages under her care. The once firm ground beneath her feet began to soften and shake at that moment, and now she hesitates to use Saarebas as tools for the current war. In regards to outsiders, Gale is quite cold and curt. She was raised in the time where humans had tried to take back their home and this caused more strain to be placed on the Tamassrans. They were the sole ones who could produce more warriors and leaders, after all. Thus, her experience with humans had always been them attempting to kill her or her kin, even if her people did walk in peace. Even so, she would not attack blindly. Her training to become a Arvaarad dictates that she always try to be diplomatic and save murder for last. However, her words can be as cutting as any blade, and this often causes outsiders to be put off or be enraged. When outside of her home, she rarely allows her to guard to relax and this may result in a blade being pointed at anyone's throat, if they so happen to step out of line. If a mission is unsuccessful, it will count as a failure on her part as a commander rather than the whole platoon. Thus, her attitude towards those under her can be blunt, but never directly insulting. Toward the Saarebas, she is more flexible and pays little attention to them unless there is a need to use their power. Appearance:Gale stands at eight feet tall, with a slender body mass. Compared to the males of her race, she is either of the same height or slightly shorter. Her skin is of a light grey color, as is typical for a regular Qunari, and is rather rough to the touch due to her visit to the Ben-Hassrath a year ago. Accompanying her common skin color is her white hair that is usually free-flowing, yet has been tied back in times of battle. Soft to the touch, it greatly contrasts with the texture of her skin. Since her hair often frames her face, her bright orange eyes seem all the more startling and vibrant. Gale possess a slender body type, yet she has little issue manipulating her war hammer. Qunari, both genders, are meant and made to swing large weapons with ease. Their body is simply made for it, and the ease in which the female utilizes her weapon boldly states this as fact. Her height is also another common trait of a Qunari, for she is taller than most of any race, humans included. Her facial structure is angled, and more square in the chin area than most. It is rumored that she is the Arishook's daughter for the two possess the same facial structure, but this has neither been confirmed nor denied. Her lips are of a darker grey than that of her skin, and rather plump (yet again, another trait typical of Qunari). As Qunari do not kiss nor have any romantic desires to for each other, it is a safe bet to guess they have never touched another's. Gale's nose mimics her facial structure and is angled and sharp. This trait varies amongst the Qunari, but it furthers the rumor that she is the Arishook's daughter. Small, sharp, and angled eyebrows frame her vibrant orange eyes that are usually narrowed. Lastly, her ears are as pointed as any Qunari's would be, yet they are typically covered by her hair. Gale sports typical Qunari armor and does not stray from this armor. She has been trained to fight and move in it, thus she treats it as if it is part of her skin. The only difference in her armor is that the upper straps are of a lighter brown and gold than any other. Whether this is to display rank or to easily identify her in battle is unknown. History: Gale was born with two biological parents, yet Qunari do not raise their children. No, they are sent to the Tamassrans instead and raised to fulfill their future role. This was no different for Gale, and she soon came to see her instructors as her parents, even though they only call her by the number. Qunari are not given names under the Qun, only numbers, yet a few had given her the nickname of Gale to describe the manner in which she fought. However, this technique is common amongst Arvaarads, for they need to be powerful and swift to ensure a Saarebas does not escape or lose control. Years of constant practice sharpened this skill, and she finds solace in her technique. Upon becoming Arvaarad, the female found herself in another world entirely. Responsibilities were placed on her shoulders in rapid succession due to the war. It was clear that she struggled to adjust, yet she was given time for her loyalty in the Qun never wavered. Thus, she was given the opportunity to become a true leader even if she showed momentary weakness. However, those of a higher rank than she often disregard her due to her early struggles. At this time, she is still struggling to prove her worth even if most missions lead by her have been successful. Her success as a leader lasted till she turned twenty and a battle ended in the bloodshed of most of her platoon. Most of the Saarebas under her control died in the battle due to her eye straying from the objective. When she returned home, she found herself isolated even though she continued to receive orders and roles to assume. Qunari society relies on each member to function as a whole, and, for the first time, she felt completely separated from this. Even so, she continued to perform her duties while attempting to forget her raising doubt. However, in another battle, she hesitated and this resulted in a close acquaintance being killed before her eyes. Death was common, almost second nature to her by this point, yet the guilt ate at her. The resounding silence of those around her made her slip further. This was the moment when she turned herself over to the Ben-Hassrath. She forgot some of her grief, her anger, her disappointment, yet her depression remained. No amount of wounds, whether physical or mental, could cure her or soothe her as it did most. Seeds of doubt had already been planted and were growing roots. Yet, she kept this quiet. She did not speak to any of this, for she did not wish to be killed or become Tal-Vashoth. This is why she began to accompany more platoons into the front lines, for she hoped to meet death on the battlefield, but death as yet to greet her. The Mage Thief Creus Aurinko Twenty-three years old Male Appearance: Creus if fairly fair skinned usually being most active at night however if he spends enough time in the sun he gets a light honey colored tan. He is also fairly tall and lean reaching 6 feet and a hundred and fifty-five pounds, with a chiseled physique due to years of living life on the run. He has a rather athletic and well proportioned build. He isn't overly muscular as he is built more nimbly his assets lying in speed and stamina rather then physical strength. As a result he isn't very wide in the shoulders but his build has served him well in his years of living as a thief. Like this rest of his build his face is also well proportioned, oval in shape and narrowing at the jawline. His proportions give him a rather graceful appearance for a human. He also bares thick, golden blond hair that falls just above the center of his back when left loose however he often keeps it tied back out of his face. One of his most striking features are his eyes. If one where to examine them closely they would see a dark blue rim around his iris and jagged rays of lighter blue around his pupil. He generally tends to wear lighter weight clothes preferring not to be weighed down when a speedy escape is needed. He often dresses in a somewhat noble fashion with stolen clothes as he often goes around impersonating a traveling noble. His usual attire often includes a simple white button down shirt with black pants and black leather boots. Over that he wears a stolen white trench coat with plenty of hidden pockets sown into to stow away stolen valuables. Personality: Creus is a bit of a loner, he is slow to warm up to others and is often a bit standoffish and distrusting but as he warms up to the people around him his kinder side becomes apparent. He will often quietly lend a hand to someone in need without asking anything or wanting in return. In fact he generally does not like to be recognized for his good deeds and will often try to put others off snarky or blunt comments. Creus is definitely not the type of person to sugar coat things, if someone ask him a question he will tell them exactly what he thinks and sometimes his words can be a bit cruel. This is because he believes the truth is far more helpful then gentle lies no matter how tough it might be. However while he might be blunty truthful with personal stuff with other people he usually contradicts himself as he is generally far from an honest person. He is a thief and a con-artist and has quite the silver tongue often trying to talk and lie his way out of dangerous situations often preferring to try and avoid conflict with words rather then action. Along with that he is generally a more intellectual person spending quite a bit of time in his pursuit of knowledge, specifically magic. Cunning is another word that could be used to describe him as he has been thief the majority of his life and had so far avoided capture. Along with all that he had a rather pronounced rebellious streak to him, he's not afraid to question who's in charge and the choices they make. He will do so openly, often directly challenging anyone who had a superior rank to him but only if he truly believes that the higher ranking person is mistaken. Something that will probably get him into some trouble but despite his challenging nature he is loyal once he befriends someone. Not only that but despite his challenging nature he has no desire for power or anything else that might give him extra responsibilities, leading to the fact that he is quite lazy. If he can manipulate or coerce someone to do work for him he most likely will. With all these faults however he does do a few good deeds, one in particular is that often what he steals goes to help others in need.
  13. Puppers

  14. Sleepy Loki

    From the album Puppers

    © Kristen Chaves

  15. Loki

    From the album Puppers

    © Kristen Chaves

×