Post by Margaid on Sept 12, 2014 17:19:24 GMT -6
Character Name: Ashasala ("To Seek a Soul;" technically, his 'name' is just Saarebas)
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Race: Human (Quanri from Rivain)
Class: Mage
Specializations: Battlemage/ Spirit healer
Favored skills: Elemental Chaos, Stoic, Healing Aura
Hobbies: Practicing magic, being able to do little things on his own
Background: Long before Ashasala received his name, he was born in Kont-aar, the Qunari settlement in the north of Rivain. The compound was not only only comprised of kossith Qunari, but human and elven converts, as well. As with all children born into the Qun, Ashasala's human parents were chosen to breed for ideal genetic qualities. After his birth, he was taken away and given the general upbringing and education common to all children under the tutelage of the Tamassran.
Traditionally, no child born into the Qun would receive his or her 'name' until the age of twelve, when they would be assigned their position in life based on their skills. Ashasala, however, was different. He was eight when he first accidentally set fire to his cot mat, revealing to both himself and the Tasassran his nature as a mage. That same night, Ashasala was branded 'Saarebas' and bound in the manner that all 'dangerous things' are. His mouth was sewn shut, his hands shackled, and he was from then on given over to the care of his Basvaarad, his keeper.
The Qunari revile mages as unpredictable and dangerous, antithetical to the precise order of the Qun, but respect them as well in equal measure. No other individual suffers as greatly for their allotment in life as the Saarebas. Despite the years of bitterness darkening his heart over his wretched twist of fate, Ashasala found some comfort in this fact, at least.
And Ashasala did find comfort in the Qun. What mage in any corner of Thedas, after all, was given the right to live his own life? Under the Qun, at least, he had a purpose, he had direction. Whether using his magic to heal the wounded, raze enemies, or even water crops, he was able to use his magic productively in society, rather than let such skill waste away in a Tower, no good to anyone. His Basvaarad, too, treated him with as much dignity as he was afforded. The Qun did not condone senseless violence, and so his keeper was never cruel or debasing to him. Despite his charge being unable to speak, the Basvaarad was patient and intuitive with Ashasala, explaining the nature of Ashasala's duties to him and letting him know when his work was adequate; Ashasala fund him, in their years together, to be truly "worthy of following."
While the years between the ages of eight and twenty-four were painful, they were also somewhat dichotomously filled with monotony. Ashasala's life was unexceptional. His place was to traveling often with the Beresaad as a field medic and battlemage with the vanguard, though most of these campaigns were non-violent. What he could see of the world, he saw through the slits of his binding mask, and lived often in quiet meditation. That was, until the attack.
One afternoon, unremarkable in anyway, the Basvaarad was transporting Ashasala between vanguard lines. This was a run of the mill occupation that nonetheless attracted the attention of a band of human zealots, against the occupation of any Qunari on mainland Thedas. The attacked the Basvaarad and Saarebas, and despite Ashasala's best attempt to defend his keeper, the Basvaarad was slain. Momentarily unbound by his keeper's control rod, Ashasala attacked with a force and power the likes of which he never knew he was capable of. He not only killed the human attackers—he destroyed them. In the immediate aftermath, Ashasala panicked. Was he possessed? Had a demon lent him such strength? He crawled over to the Basvaarad and wept, feeling all security and certainty of the Qun leave him as mourned both his keeper and the direction of his life. He knew with certainty that he had to flee. He was certain to be killed if he returned to Kont-aar for having been untended and this compromised, and an overwhelming need to live gripped his heart.
So he fled.
Heading deeper into Southern Rivain, Ashasala had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. He had never before had to fend for himself, or make his own decisions. He stumbled along like a blind man through the backwaters, knowing at the very least to avoid any other living being. Finally, while sleep claimed his exhausted body, a Rivaini hedge witch came across him while gathering herbs. She woke him, and tried to calm him as best she could, taking him back to her secluded home.
The woman was infinitely kind to him. As gently as she could, she un-sewed his mouth, and used her magic to heal his mutilations as best she could. Some of the stitching-scarring she disguised with lip piercings, and dotted tattoos along his chin and cheekbones, signs of status in Rivain. She washed him, clothed him, fed him, and tried to coax him out of his mental coma as best she could.
The nature of his life she could guess; it was no secret how Qunari mages were treated; magic, she tried to explain to the Saarebas, did have a place in the world and society, just as he was taught, but it did not have to feared so. To the Rivaini, magic was the force that kept the world in order, and mages were the blessed people who could communicate with those forces and spirits to manipulate the world around them for the betted. For months, she taught the Saarebas all that she knew about this side of magic, and he found himself responding to it. It wasn't so different, he found, from the Qun. Magic had a place in the world in both lifestyles, and he could use it to serve people with a tempered and kind heart; he just didn't have to hurt himself to maintain control—not if he acknowledged the danger and told the spirits coming into his body, "today is not the day you will possess me."
With the hedge witch, the Saarebas grew more than he had in the sixteen years since he had discovered he was a mage. While speech came slowly to him, it did come in time, and he came to enjoy discussing the nature of magic with the hedge mage, whom he came to understand was deeply respected by the nearby villagers, who sought her counsel and help in all arenas. Her magic magic was useful to them, but they loved—not hated—her for it. Though he feared every day that a new Basvaarad would soon he hot on his trail, or that Andrastain Templars would find him, he could not bring himself to leave the witch, who's tutelage he worshiped.
One day, the witch turned to him, and said, "I would keep you here forever, if that's what the order of the world had in store for you, but I believe you were made for more than that."
Not understanding, the witch smiled and continued.
"Go south, to Ferelden. The Wardens are growing there; they use magic to serve the people, as you desire to do. With them, you will be safe from Basvaarad and Templar both. You can be who you were born to be—and that person was nor Saarebas."
The Saarebas grew even more confused, causing the witch to laugh sadly.
"Magic isn't a 'dangerous thing,' young man, and from this day forward you will not be bound by such a word. What do you think of the name, 'Ashasala'?" His head titled curiously at the sound of Qunlat from her lips. "'To seek a soul…,' it's fitting, don't you think? That's what you will be doing when you leave here—setting off in search of your own life, your own purpose. A name is a heavy thing, a powerful thing…do you think you can live up to this one?"
The former Saarebas swallowed, understanding the burden of a name, but nodded. This name, he thought, he could take, could live under. In that moment, the individual who was a Saarebas was born again as Ashasala,
Ashasala left the hedge witch not long after. Equipped with both the sense of purpose given to him by the Qun and the serenity in his ability given to him by the witch and her spiritualism, Ashasala knew that whatever fate unfolded before him now would be of his own making. Both terrified and overjoyed at that prospect, he set off south to seek an audience with the Grey Wardens.
Personality: It's difficult to imagine the person Ashasala might have been had he not been branded a mage so early. As it is, he grew up in extreme subjugation and pain, taught that he was dangerous and subhuman, but also that his suffering was all according to the natural order of the world. Due to this, he grew to understand his own pain as inconsequential, that his skills were meant to serve others faithfully, and that his wellbeing was inconsequential. Even freed and beginning to understand what it means to live for himself, he can't shake that conditioning.
Ashasala is also very strongly in the grip of a Stockholm-syndrome like state. He honestly never hated the Basvaarad who contained him, and was grateful for any scrap of kindness or respect he was given. While he wouldn't get angry at anyone for speaking ill of the Qun (anger is somewhat foreign to his self-sacrificial nature), he would get uncomfortable and attempt to make the speaker understand the finer points of Qun philosophy. He's not interested in converting anyone by any means—he just doesn't know what to do when people reject one of the only things that gave him comfort in life, even if that same comfort gave an equal, or even greater, amount of pain as well.
Overall, Ashasala is eager and grateful for any scraps of kindness, and is kind to pretty much everyone in turn. His extremely limited life experiences have left him very naive about the rest of the world, and he is either endless fascinated or surprised about the things he hears and discovers about the world. He had no idea how close the world was to ending during the Fifth Blight, or that there was even a Blight happening; he has a lot of discovery in store for him as he heads south.
Weapons/Armor: Ashasala wields a bladed mage staff, hollow silverite. He is lightly armored, with light shoulder and chest guards, and arm bracers. Other than that, his clothes are very typical Rivaini, with bright jewelry given to him by the hedge witch, colorful scarves for belts, and light white shirt, and black slacks. Taking into consideration the colder climes he would likely encounter in Ferelden, the hedge witch also outfitted Ashasala with study leather boots and a fur wrap to keep him warm.
Appearance: Like most Rivaini, Ashasala has dark skin, dark hair and bright eyes. Everything about him is gaunt and thin, the product of a harsh sixteen years of living, giving him a scrawny, undernourished look. The hedge witch tried to put some meat on his bones, but it didn't seem to take too well to his skinny frame, which seemed determined to burn through food gratefully without sparing any to pad his frame.
Under the care of the hedge witch, Ashasala's mouth was unsewen, and two of the stitch holes were filled with snake-bite piercings. Otherwise, the scares are still visible around his lips. To disguise them further, the witch tattooed dots across his cheekbones and down his chin, trying to make the unhealing stitch holes look as though they were by design, and not the marks of torture. She also pierced his ears and his eyebrow to give him a little bit of a sense of pride, as tattoos and piercings are marks of respect in Rivain.
He doesn't have much of a personal fashion sense outside of the clothes the hedge witch gave him. Besides light armor, he wears a simple white linen tunic, black trousers with a wide belt, and colorful scarves around his waist "for luck."
Face Image (full body to come)
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Race: Human (Quanri from Rivain)
Class: Mage
Specializations: Battlemage/ Spirit healer
Favored skills: Elemental Chaos, Stoic, Healing Aura
Hobbies: Practicing magic, being able to do little things on his own
Background: Long before Ashasala received his name, he was born in Kont-aar, the Qunari settlement in the north of Rivain. The compound was not only only comprised of kossith Qunari, but human and elven converts, as well. As with all children born into the Qun, Ashasala's human parents were chosen to breed for ideal genetic qualities. After his birth, he was taken away and given the general upbringing and education common to all children under the tutelage of the Tamassran.
Traditionally, no child born into the Qun would receive his or her 'name' until the age of twelve, when they would be assigned their position in life based on their skills. Ashasala, however, was different. He was eight when he first accidentally set fire to his cot mat, revealing to both himself and the Tasassran his nature as a mage. That same night, Ashasala was branded 'Saarebas' and bound in the manner that all 'dangerous things' are. His mouth was sewn shut, his hands shackled, and he was from then on given over to the care of his Basvaarad, his keeper.
The Qunari revile mages as unpredictable and dangerous, antithetical to the precise order of the Qun, but respect them as well in equal measure. No other individual suffers as greatly for their allotment in life as the Saarebas. Despite the years of bitterness darkening his heart over his wretched twist of fate, Ashasala found some comfort in this fact, at least.
And Ashasala did find comfort in the Qun. What mage in any corner of Thedas, after all, was given the right to live his own life? Under the Qun, at least, he had a purpose, he had direction. Whether using his magic to heal the wounded, raze enemies, or even water crops, he was able to use his magic productively in society, rather than let such skill waste away in a Tower, no good to anyone. His Basvaarad, too, treated him with as much dignity as he was afforded. The Qun did not condone senseless violence, and so his keeper was never cruel or debasing to him. Despite his charge being unable to speak, the Basvaarad was patient and intuitive with Ashasala, explaining the nature of Ashasala's duties to him and letting him know when his work was adequate; Ashasala fund him, in their years together, to be truly "worthy of following."
While the years between the ages of eight and twenty-four were painful, they were also somewhat dichotomously filled with monotony. Ashasala's life was unexceptional. His place was to traveling often with the Beresaad as a field medic and battlemage with the vanguard, though most of these campaigns were non-violent. What he could see of the world, he saw through the slits of his binding mask, and lived often in quiet meditation. That was, until the attack.
One afternoon, unremarkable in anyway, the Basvaarad was transporting Ashasala between vanguard lines. This was a run of the mill occupation that nonetheless attracted the attention of a band of human zealots, against the occupation of any Qunari on mainland Thedas. The attacked the Basvaarad and Saarebas, and despite Ashasala's best attempt to defend his keeper, the Basvaarad was slain. Momentarily unbound by his keeper's control rod, Ashasala attacked with a force and power the likes of which he never knew he was capable of. He not only killed the human attackers—he destroyed them. In the immediate aftermath, Ashasala panicked. Was he possessed? Had a demon lent him such strength? He crawled over to the Basvaarad and wept, feeling all security and certainty of the Qun leave him as mourned both his keeper and the direction of his life. He knew with certainty that he had to flee. He was certain to be killed if he returned to Kont-aar for having been untended and this compromised, and an overwhelming need to live gripped his heart.
So he fled.
Heading deeper into Southern Rivain, Ashasala had no idea what he was doing or where he was going. He had never before had to fend for himself, or make his own decisions. He stumbled along like a blind man through the backwaters, knowing at the very least to avoid any other living being. Finally, while sleep claimed his exhausted body, a Rivaini hedge witch came across him while gathering herbs. She woke him, and tried to calm him as best she could, taking him back to her secluded home.
The woman was infinitely kind to him. As gently as she could, she un-sewed his mouth, and used her magic to heal his mutilations as best she could. Some of the stitching-scarring she disguised with lip piercings, and dotted tattoos along his chin and cheekbones, signs of status in Rivain. She washed him, clothed him, fed him, and tried to coax him out of his mental coma as best she could.
The nature of his life she could guess; it was no secret how Qunari mages were treated; magic, she tried to explain to the Saarebas, did have a place in the world and society, just as he was taught, but it did not have to feared so. To the Rivaini, magic was the force that kept the world in order, and mages were the blessed people who could communicate with those forces and spirits to manipulate the world around them for the betted. For months, she taught the Saarebas all that she knew about this side of magic, and he found himself responding to it. It wasn't so different, he found, from the Qun. Magic had a place in the world in both lifestyles, and he could use it to serve people with a tempered and kind heart; he just didn't have to hurt himself to maintain control—not if he acknowledged the danger and told the spirits coming into his body, "today is not the day you will possess me."
With the hedge witch, the Saarebas grew more than he had in the sixteen years since he had discovered he was a mage. While speech came slowly to him, it did come in time, and he came to enjoy discussing the nature of magic with the hedge mage, whom he came to understand was deeply respected by the nearby villagers, who sought her counsel and help in all arenas. Her magic magic was useful to them, but they loved—not hated—her for it. Though he feared every day that a new Basvaarad would soon he hot on his trail, or that Andrastain Templars would find him, he could not bring himself to leave the witch, who's tutelage he worshiped.
One day, the witch turned to him, and said, "I would keep you here forever, if that's what the order of the world had in store for you, but I believe you were made for more than that."
Not understanding, the witch smiled and continued.
"Go south, to Ferelden. The Wardens are growing there; they use magic to serve the people, as you desire to do. With them, you will be safe from Basvaarad and Templar both. You can be who you were born to be—and that person was nor Saarebas."
The Saarebas grew even more confused, causing the witch to laugh sadly.
"Magic isn't a 'dangerous thing,' young man, and from this day forward you will not be bound by such a word. What do you think of the name, 'Ashasala'?" His head titled curiously at the sound of Qunlat from her lips. "'To seek a soul…,' it's fitting, don't you think? That's what you will be doing when you leave here—setting off in search of your own life, your own purpose. A name is a heavy thing, a powerful thing…do you think you can live up to this one?"
The former Saarebas swallowed, understanding the burden of a name, but nodded. This name, he thought, he could take, could live under. In that moment, the individual who was a Saarebas was born again as Ashasala,
Ashasala left the hedge witch not long after. Equipped with both the sense of purpose given to him by the Qun and the serenity in his ability given to him by the witch and her spiritualism, Ashasala knew that whatever fate unfolded before him now would be of his own making. Both terrified and overjoyed at that prospect, he set off south to seek an audience with the Grey Wardens.
Personality: It's difficult to imagine the person Ashasala might have been had he not been branded a mage so early. As it is, he grew up in extreme subjugation and pain, taught that he was dangerous and subhuman, but also that his suffering was all according to the natural order of the world. Due to this, he grew to understand his own pain as inconsequential, that his skills were meant to serve others faithfully, and that his wellbeing was inconsequential. Even freed and beginning to understand what it means to live for himself, he can't shake that conditioning.
Ashasala is also very strongly in the grip of a Stockholm-syndrome like state. He honestly never hated the Basvaarad who contained him, and was grateful for any scrap of kindness or respect he was given. While he wouldn't get angry at anyone for speaking ill of the Qun (anger is somewhat foreign to his self-sacrificial nature), he would get uncomfortable and attempt to make the speaker understand the finer points of Qun philosophy. He's not interested in converting anyone by any means—he just doesn't know what to do when people reject one of the only things that gave him comfort in life, even if that same comfort gave an equal, or even greater, amount of pain as well.
Overall, Ashasala is eager and grateful for any scraps of kindness, and is kind to pretty much everyone in turn. His extremely limited life experiences have left him very naive about the rest of the world, and he is either endless fascinated or surprised about the things he hears and discovers about the world. He had no idea how close the world was to ending during the Fifth Blight, or that there was even a Blight happening; he has a lot of discovery in store for him as he heads south.
Weapons/Armor: Ashasala wields a bladed mage staff, hollow silverite. He is lightly armored, with light shoulder and chest guards, and arm bracers. Other than that, his clothes are very typical Rivaini, with bright jewelry given to him by the hedge witch, colorful scarves for belts, and light white shirt, and black slacks. Taking into consideration the colder climes he would likely encounter in Ferelden, the hedge witch also outfitted Ashasala with study leather boots and a fur wrap to keep him warm.
Appearance: Like most Rivaini, Ashasala has dark skin, dark hair and bright eyes. Everything about him is gaunt and thin, the product of a harsh sixteen years of living, giving him a scrawny, undernourished look. The hedge witch tried to put some meat on his bones, but it didn't seem to take too well to his skinny frame, which seemed determined to burn through food gratefully without sparing any to pad his frame.
Under the care of the hedge witch, Ashasala's mouth was unsewen, and two of the stitch holes were filled with snake-bite piercings. Otherwise, the scares are still visible around his lips. To disguise them further, the witch tattooed dots across his cheekbones and down his chin, trying to make the unhealing stitch holes look as though they were by design, and not the marks of torture. She also pierced his ears and his eyebrow to give him a little bit of a sense of pride, as tattoos and piercings are marks of respect in Rivain.
He doesn't have much of a personal fashion sense outside of the clothes the hedge witch gave him. Besides light armor, he wears a simple white linen tunic, black trousers with a wide belt, and colorful scarves around his waist "for luck."
Face Image (full body to come)