Eirwen Meagher

[Eirwen Meagher]

GENERAL

Full Name: Eirwen Meagher
Race: Elf
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Undecided

Birthplace: Halamshiral, Orlais
Residence: Orlais
Occupation: Mercenary
Religion: Raised Andrastian by her father, taught Dalish stories by her mother.

COMBAT

Class: Warrior
Character Stats:

Strength: 3
Dexterity: 1
Willpower: 1
Magic: 0
Cunning: 1

Gear:
[1] Set of Full Plate, modeled after or looted from darkspawn stragglers
[1] Two-handed Broadsword.
[1] Pack of Elfroot Chew

CHARACTERISTICS

Appearance: Eirwen is a city elf, which means that she, like all elves, is small with slightly elongated limbs, upturned eyes and long (some might say knife-like) ears. She is about five feet tall but usually stands a little taller thanks to her armored boots which she wears (like all her armor) nearly constantly. She has a small scar on her right cheek directly under her eye and many other scars littered across her body (rarely seen, of course, because of the aforementioned armor). She is also constantly chewing elfroot – she shouts often, and the bitter root has soothing properties for anyone's throat.

Personality: Eirwen is loud, coarse, quick to curse and quicker to come to blows. It is, of course, a front – she was an only child and her family moved often, before and after her mother's death. Her loud and boisterous persona defends a more insecure, mistrusting elf underneath – but it is buried deep, and she doesn't fully understand that. Her caustic humor and lopsided grin are not fake, of course – they are just not all that there is to her. Still, now more than ever, as a war grips Thedas, it is difficult to justify the sort of introspection one might need to understand such things about oneself.

Eirwen never really had any feelings towards mages or templars (she saw templars more often and found them insufferable but the few mages she did see were often apostates, so it all balanced out). Unfortunately, it's difficult to maintain that sort of ambivalence in a world collapsing around her. She has very little issue with the upcoming war, however – things are dangerous now, but things have always been dangerous for a city elf. She has a very large sword and she knows how to use it and she likes using it as long as she's getting paid.

HISTORY

Born in Halamshiral to a city elf alchemist and potioner and a Dalish elf who fell in love with him as her caravan passed (and was subsequently exiled from her clan), Eirwen had an interesting family life. Her father was a relatively devout Andrastian (who at least taught his daughter as much of the Chant as he personally knew) but her mother always felt the loss of her clan very painfully and taught Eirwen as much of the Dalish tongue and culture as Eirwen cared to learn. Her mother died before Eirwen was seven, however, and she was nowhere near old enough to truly understand how important it was to her mother.

Her father was a good potioner but, unfortunately, being an elf generally went hand in hand with being poor and it was too easy to make poisons on the side to supplement his modest income. No sooner had the Meagher family set up shop in some new small Orlesian village than someone would begin to suspect him of doing something wrong (he was a city elf, after all) – Eirwen never spent more than seven months in one place.

She learned how to wield a sword on her own, a skill that her father disapproved of – but she killed her first man when she was fourteen and it was because of that skill that her father survived to the present day (angry crowds running out a poison-maker rarely care if the maker is alive after being run out). She never stayed anywhere long enough to learn a craft and refused to learn the herbology her father desperately tried to teach her, so being a sellsword was not only what she liked to do – by 9:40 Dragon it was the only thing she was qualified to do.

She left her father when she was eighteen years old, as he settled down in Starkhaven, to pursue her own path – her skills were best used traveling and her father was growing old and tired. It was during her first few missions that her rough fighting style grew slightly more refined (older mercenaries taught her tricks and gave her tips around the campfire each night, growing fond of her precocious nature and her affinity for slamming men in the groin when they grew too familiar). Her skills improved considerably with a bit of help from her rotating list of companions, but her fighting style remained similar to what it always had been: a whirlwind of unrelenting fury that attacked quickly and hard, but tired easily. It was on these first few missions that she took her current sword, a long battered beast of metal she plucked from the corpse of a bandit commander. Her armor, on the other hand, was pieced together at her own request from the spoils of several skirmishes along the Abyssal Reach.

As the Mage-Templar War broke out, Eirwen considered moving her father away from Starkhaven, worried that the Free Marches would fall quickly after the events at Kirkwall – but her own tenure in Orlais, where tensions flared high, meant that she had no idea where she would relocate him. He seems comfortable living in the Starkhaven alienage at the moment, but Eirwen is worried. Although she feels no personal stake in the war and the skirmishes breaking out across the land, her ears are constantly pricked eastward for even the slightest hint of trouble; she will not lose another parent.

BEHIND THE MASK

Player’s Pen Name: Sal/Manic (whichever you're comfortable with)
Contact: [e-mail]

Roleplay Experience: I've been roleplaying for 7 years now. Done a few fantasy, high school, Harvest Moon roleplaying boards, as well as some tabletop gaming and MMORPG roleplaying servers.
Language(s): English native, Spanish fluent.
How did you find us?: Mike/David sent me!
Roleplay Sample:

It was said that to quell the Roman mob, to appease them and allow important people to go about the difficult duties of governing, all an emperor needed to do was toss them a bit of free bread and bring a circus or two to town.

Celeste wasn't entirely sure if that was true or not (though a more dedicated trickster might have gone out of their way to track down some immortal (or at the very least, unimaginably ancient) creature to lay the matter to rest) and she didn't rightly care, at that.

Because even if it were true, what self-respecting trickster would follow the Romans' lead?

Honestly. Giving out free food. What a waste.

The ancient Romans obviously didn't know how to set up a circus to save their lives.

Now Celeste Sinclaire had a plan. It wasn't a very good plan and it was missing far too many key details for any sane (read: non-trickster) being to be confident of its inevitable success, but Celeste had a knack for shooting from the hip and playing her cards so close to the chest that even she didn't know what she was doing half the time.

What she knew right now was that there was a circus setting up shop in the forest outside of ... Forest, and she was the one responsible for it.

Wait. Scratch that. "Responsible" was a terrible word to use in conjunction with Celeste. How about ... she was the one to be blamed for it. And, considering that it was opening night and the various people she had hired (using tricks of the trade so old that she had mastered them by the time she was walking - compulsion, bribery, forgeries, et cetera) were just barely setting up the three main tents, the one who might be run out of town if things went poorly and anyone bothered to look at the name on various forms and checks.

Still, it helped that most of the attractions didn't feature any actual living beings. Glamours were a convenient trick (heh) to have up one's sleeve, and Celeste was good enough at them that she was juggling four already for the early crowd while still walking around the grounds, taking in the sights, pretending to be just another normal (heh) resident of Forest ready to be "wow"ed.

Still, things were just gearing up. It was going to be a long night. And even Celeste wasn't entirely sure what she was about to do.

Password: Divine

[The Maker]

APPROVED!
Looks great! Welcome to Thedas! Good to see another elf around.