Enchanter Rhys[CANON]

[Senior Enchanter Rhys]

GENERAL

Full Name: Rhys
Race: Human
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Birthplace: Orlais, Val Royeaux or its surroundings
Residence: Andoral's Reach
Affiliation: Mages, more accurately, the Aequiteriens
Occupation: Senior Enchanter and the representator of the Aequiteriens.
Religion: No religion.

COMBAT

Class: Mage
Character Stats:

Strength:
Dexterity:
Willpower: 2
Magic: 3
Cunning: 1

Spells:

Arcane Bolt, Shock

Gear: Senior Enchanter's robes, an oaken staff, and an Aequiterien's cowl. Fur applied to robes for winter.

APPLICATION

Rhys, no more an official Enchanter, sat rather calmly in the only bench that had been permitted to him: made of willow, the chair had a high back and was as plain as it gets, the hard frozen wood guaranteed to provide him with a sore back for the rest of the week. With Evangeline gone for the time being and Shale outside hunting pigeons, his thoughts were on his late mother. Wynne, the rescuing angel, the only person who with a head on her shoulders who had been at the White Spire. And she, it seems, had paid for that with her life. He looked out of the window, noticing the grim weather and all that it entailed with it. It looked like this was as bad as it could get, including his mood that truly did not seem much worse than the weather, and including the news that the Lord Seeker's army was on the move. In addition to that, although it shouldn't have bothered him much, was a growing concern for those sent out to gather supplies. They hadn't returned yet.

Rhys could easily recite their names by now: Senior Enchanters Janos and Louis, Enchanters Azalea, Baelor, Elyas and Apostate Jennyfer; their fates were now balanced on a knife's edge. He hoped that all of them would return back unscathed, but one couldn't always have what he wanted to. That he had learned more than once and not in pleasant ways. But one could sometimes also get exactly what he wanted, as if the Maker had extended His hand and given it to you on the spot - that he had also experienced, in the form of Wynne giving her own life for Evangeline's. He had once felt guilty, unable to decide whether her choice had been for the better or the worse, but later, as he regained his bearings, the answer had been ridiculously simple. She was old. They were young. She would've been killed anyway, while the others had a chance to escape and experience a full life. In regards to that, Rhys was quite sure that her sacrifice would have a lesser effect than hoped for, as now it seemed like the whole party of rebellious mages would be slaughtered in Andoral's Reach. His part in the defence would only be one amongst countless others, and if one mage failed, it could doom the others around him... or her.

Rhys' thoughts turned on the defence of the keep. There were painfully few mages capable of effective melee: there were a few mages with swords, a few arcane warriors, and that was it. The templars had crossbows and their relative protection against magic: no doubt it wouldn't save them from burning up when targeted by a fire blast, but it would help them against entropy. And, in his knowledge, most of the wilders - apostates on the run - practised exactly this art. But perhaps it wasn't just so. He had been wrong before, and would be until his eventual death.

BEHIND THE MASK

Player’s Pen Name: I prefer to use my first name, Mikael.
Contact: My email is [e-mail]

Roleplay Experience: 2 years and tops.
Language(s): English, Finnish, Swedish, French.
How did you find us?: I remember finding this site through a friend.

Roleplay Sample: I should like to put "2nd+" here, but instead I'm going to give you a taster of Marcus Caldius Merula.

"Veccavi, Mettenheimers and Vanskerries... what a lovely cavalcade," Lucius recited as he led Marcus through the grand doors, his tone a flurry of sarcastic remarks. "But no Griffons. Perhaps the Majesty isn't as trusting of his bodyguards as he was before."

Marcus shook his head. "No. He is just as trusting of them as before, but he doesn't wish to anger us, either."

"I see. The King... he is a reasonable man." surprisingly, a touch of awe lingered in Lucius' voice.

Marcus' eyes widened as he recognized the awe in his tone, but kept his mouth closed. Lucius wasn't the sort to switch allegiances. Better like this, in the open, than something worse brewing in secret.

"He is a good King," Marcus answered in unison. "And today, I hope he makes the right decision. I truly hope that he can see through the Griffons' zeal, at least. It would be a shame to see the head of our dear Grandmaster rolling down from the executioner's block. Aranor does not deserve it."

Lucius nodded in agreement, beginning to scan the rows of chairs for a suitable place. His plans were thwarted as Marcus sat down on a high-backed chair in the front row, eyes suddenly intent. He was inspecting the Prince from under his brows, so that it seemed he was not even looking at his direction; the Prince Valdemar had a level look about him, with perhaps a hint of glumness around his eyes. Marcus had long since learned that trying to weigh the King was a futile attempt at best, but apparently the Prince hadn't learned everything yet. He looked at the King - not in the eyes - and rose from his chair, bowing formally.

"Hail to the King", he said, just loudly enough to be heard.

At the same time another man entered the room, walking over to Marcus, and bowed low at the King. "Legionary Marius from the Shadow Legion. My King."

He sat down a few chairs to the left of where Marcus was sitting, shaking his head as though there was something he didn't understand about this whole affair.

Password: Divine

[The Maker]

APPROVED!
Fantastic! We now finally have Rhys! Yay! Welcome!