Application
Sep. 20th, 2011 10:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dat_chesthairName: Sev
LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dylpancakes
E-Mail: MysticNocturne77@aol.com
IM: MysticNocturne77
Character Name: Varric Tethras
Series: Dragon Age 2
Timeline: During the 3 years after Act 2
Canon Resource Link: http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Varric_Tethras
Character Background: Varric has the distinction of being the second son of an exiled dwarven noble house. In the grand scheme of things, this makes him precisely nothing. Before he was born, Varric’s father was accused of fixing Provings, ceremonial gladiatorial matches that dwarves place a great deal of significance in (the winners are supposedly blessed by the Paragons, or the honored dwarven ancestors). Rather than to live in shame and disgrace, the family chose to leave, a very permanent decision in their society. Surface dwellers are never allowed to return to the dwarven city of Orzammar, and they are stripped of their caste rank as well (the casteless are less than dirt among dwarves).
Varric was born in the city of Kirkwall, a sort of melting pot city where many races could all come together and hate each other. Despite being away from their ancestral home, Varric and his brother Bartrand fell into the traditional roles within their family after a fashion. That is, Bartrand handled everything and Varric was the younger son. While Bartrand was busy making a name for them in the merchant’s guild, Varric spent his time getting to know the underworld of Kirkwall, a far more solid venture in his mind. While Bartrand clung more firmly to the ideals he was raised by, Varric became more of a free thinker, determined to make his own way tradition be damned.
When the Blight happened in the neighboring country of Ferelden, Kirkwall was inundated with refugees trying to escape the Darkspawn hordes as well as a boiling civil war among the nobles. When things settled down a year later, Varric met a man who would one day become the “Champion of Kirkwall”, then just a guy down on his luck looking to join Bartrand’s expedition into the Deep Roads. Bartrand turned them down, but lucky for Hawke, Varric was there. He told Hawke he’d get him in if they could raise 50 gold together. In their questing, Varric proved himself to be quite the story teller, making a name for himself in writing stories and poems (most often bawdy tales twisted from truth). He composed a few about the other party members that join along the road as well.
When the Deep Roads expedition finally happened, both Hawke and Varric thought they were on their way to fame and fortune. But their plans hit a snag when Bartrand, after takeing a very valuable but also very evil relic, locked the party underground and left them to die, simply because he didn’t want to split the profits. Varric was infuriated, swearing revenge on his brother. But in their escape, they found riches well beyond what they could have imagined, and they returned to Kirkwall and live like kings for the next three years. Revenge can wait when there’s gold to spend.
Varric found out that his brother returned to Kirkwall, and he recruited Hawke and the rest of the party to confront him (since they were ALL kind of left to die because of Bartrand’s greed). When they find Bartrand, they realize that he is now possessed by the relic, but that does little to quell the younger brother’s anger. He killed his brother, exacting revenge for what happened in the Deep Roads.
Staying by Hawke’s side, Varric bore witness to the Qunari insurrection which threatened to destroy all of Kirkwall. Of course, Hawke handled the situation and became the Champion, with a little help from his friends. The next three years saw Varric up to his usual tricks, dealing with the Coterie (big players in the underworld of Kirkwall), trying unsuccessfully to sell his brother’s haunted mansion, and lying low while causing as much mischief as possible.
It is here where our story begins..
Abilites/Special Powers: Varric is blessed with the power of storytelling. His tales have won hearts, made men and broken them, and earned him a little coin here and there. He can tell you the truth, but often he prefers his version of things, so he is also a very gifted liar. As a rogue, Varric also has the stickiest fingers one could imagine. Most locks just slow him down, if that. Needless to say, hide your possessions when he’s around.
And then there is the one true love of his life: Bianca, his crossbow. He tends to talk to her quite a lot, and speaks of her fondly (sometimes referring to her as a jealous woman). He’s a crack shot marksman, and if someone’s giving him trouble, he has no problems pinning them down with the help of a sweet kiss from Bianca’s bolts.
Third-Person Sample:
“Another round!” Varric called, getting a cheer from the others assembled at the bar. He laughed, settling back into his seat. He loved it here, loved the drinks, loved the company. And if it just happened to be the best spot in Kirkwall to hear the juiciest gossip, that was a just a bonus. That had nothing at all to do with why he stayed here.
That was his story, anyway.
Hours ticked by and the ale kept flowing. It was amazing what one could do with the right application of coin. Varric and the barkeep had a bit of an agreement: Varric told stories to keep the customers around (so they could buy more booze), and all of his drinks were on the house. A nice arrangement, and one Varric was more than willing to abuse on occasion. But it hardly mattered, the dwarf was certain the owner made it back from him by charging extra for his room. From his seat by the fire, he eyed the barman, who was busy cleaning a mug. Their gazes met, and they nodded. Gentlemen’s agreements, hah. Humans were too easy sometimes.
Setting the mug down on the table, Varric finally pushed his seat back and stood, stretching his arms over his head.
“Well this has been fun,” he said. “But I think it’s time I turn in for the evening.” He waved a hand to the small chorus of ‘aww’s, though his attention was easily caught by a couple of pouty wenches. They fell so hard for the romantic twists in his tales..even if they were mostly about Hawke and his MALE companion (good on him, Varric always said). “No need to worry. I’ll be back tomorrow with more stories”
That earned a cheer, which brought a smile to Varric’s face. Fame was nice, even if it required him to sit prettily on Hawke’s coattails. They were fancy, expensive coattails, so why not? Leaving the main room, he headed for his ‘suite’, closing the door and locking it behind him. He checked the lock again before stepping away from it, heading straight for his bed.
His dreams were troubled to say the least. Memories of hard battles, close calls, dangers faced, and loves won and lost. They told his story, Hawke’s story, stories of people that didn’t even exist, and it seemed whoever was writing his dreams wanted to tell every story at once. His sleep was fitful but deep, and it felt like weeks before he finally managed to open his eyes. When he did, though, he wasn’t in his room at the Hanged Man anymore.
First-Person Sample:
Well well what do we have here? This little thing is really something else. I always wanted an easier way to record my stories, and this little beauty is the perfect trick.
Seems like a fair bet that I’m not really in Kirkwall anymore. Not that I’m complaining, really could be fun to get to know a new place. Just too bad Hawke’s not here, or maybe Anders. He seems like the adventurous type. Hah, listen to me, rambling on like this. Maybe I should introduce myself.
Varric Tethras, at your service.
LJ:
dylpancakesE-Mail: MysticNocturne77@aol.com
IM: MysticNocturne77
Character Name: Varric Tethras
Series: Dragon Age 2
Timeline: During the 3 years after Act 2
Canon Resource Link: http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Varric_Tethras
Character Background: Varric has the distinction of being the second son of an exiled dwarven noble house. In the grand scheme of things, this makes him precisely nothing. Before he was born, Varric’s father was accused of fixing Provings, ceremonial gladiatorial matches that dwarves place a great deal of significance in (the winners are supposedly blessed by the Paragons, or the honored dwarven ancestors). Rather than to live in shame and disgrace, the family chose to leave, a very permanent decision in their society. Surface dwellers are never allowed to return to the dwarven city of Orzammar, and they are stripped of their caste rank as well (the casteless are less than dirt among dwarves).
Varric was born in the city of Kirkwall, a sort of melting pot city where many races could all come together and hate each other. Despite being away from their ancestral home, Varric and his brother Bartrand fell into the traditional roles within their family after a fashion. That is, Bartrand handled everything and Varric was the younger son. While Bartrand was busy making a name for them in the merchant’s guild, Varric spent his time getting to know the underworld of Kirkwall, a far more solid venture in his mind. While Bartrand clung more firmly to the ideals he was raised by, Varric became more of a free thinker, determined to make his own way tradition be damned.
When the Blight happened in the neighboring country of Ferelden, Kirkwall was inundated with refugees trying to escape the Darkspawn hordes as well as a boiling civil war among the nobles. When things settled down a year later, Varric met a man who would one day become the “Champion of Kirkwall”, then just a guy down on his luck looking to join Bartrand’s expedition into the Deep Roads. Bartrand turned them down, but lucky for Hawke, Varric was there. He told Hawke he’d get him in if they could raise 50 gold together. In their questing, Varric proved himself to be quite the story teller, making a name for himself in writing stories and poems (most often bawdy tales twisted from truth). He composed a few about the other party members that join along the road as well.
When the Deep Roads expedition finally happened, both Hawke and Varric thought they were on their way to fame and fortune. But their plans hit a snag when Bartrand, after takeing a very valuable but also very evil relic, locked the party underground and left them to die, simply because he didn’t want to split the profits. Varric was infuriated, swearing revenge on his brother. But in their escape, they found riches well beyond what they could have imagined, and they returned to Kirkwall and live like kings for the next three years. Revenge can wait when there’s gold to spend.
Varric found out that his brother returned to Kirkwall, and he recruited Hawke and the rest of the party to confront him (since they were ALL kind of left to die because of Bartrand’s greed). When they find Bartrand, they realize that he is now possessed by the relic, but that does little to quell the younger brother’s anger. He killed his brother, exacting revenge for what happened in the Deep Roads.
Staying by Hawke’s side, Varric bore witness to the Qunari insurrection which threatened to destroy all of Kirkwall. Of course, Hawke handled the situation and became the Champion, with a little help from his friends. The next three years saw Varric up to his usual tricks, dealing with the Coterie (big players in the underworld of Kirkwall), trying unsuccessfully to sell his brother’s haunted mansion, and lying low while causing as much mischief as possible.
It is here where our story begins..
Abilites/Special Powers: Varric is blessed with the power of storytelling. His tales have won hearts, made men and broken them, and earned him a little coin here and there. He can tell you the truth, but often he prefers his version of things, so he is also a very gifted liar. As a rogue, Varric also has the stickiest fingers one could imagine. Most locks just slow him down, if that. Needless to say, hide your possessions when he’s around.
And then there is the one true love of his life: Bianca, his crossbow. He tends to talk to her quite a lot, and speaks of her fondly (sometimes referring to her as a jealous woman). He’s a crack shot marksman, and if someone’s giving him trouble, he has no problems pinning them down with the help of a sweet kiss from Bianca’s bolts.
Third-Person Sample:
“Another round!” Varric called, getting a cheer from the others assembled at the bar. He laughed, settling back into his seat. He loved it here, loved the drinks, loved the company. And if it just happened to be the best spot in Kirkwall to hear the juiciest gossip, that was a just a bonus. That had nothing at all to do with why he stayed here.
That was his story, anyway.
Hours ticked by and the ale kept flowing. It was amazing what one could do with the right application of coin. Varric and the barkeep had a bit of an agreement: Varric told stories to keep the customers around (so they could buy more booze), and all of his drinks were on the house. A nice arrangement, and one Varric was more than willing to abuse on occasion. But it hardly mattered, the dwarf was certain the owner made it back from him by charging extra for his room. From his seat by the fire, he eyed the barman, who was busy cleaning a mug. Their gazes met, and they nodded. Gentlemen’s agreements, hah. Humans were too easy sometimes.
Setting the mug down on the table, Varric finally pushed his seat back and stood, stretching his arms over his head.
“Well this has been fun,” he said. “But I think it’s time I turn in for the evening.” He waved a hand to the small chorus of ‘aww’s, though his attention was easily caught by a couple of pouty wenches. They fell so hard for the romantic twists in his tales..even if they were mostly about Hawke and his MALE companion (good on him, Varric always said). “No need to worry. I’ll be back tomorrow with more stories”
That earned a cheer, which brought a smile to Varric’s face. Fame was nice, even if it required him to sit prettily on Hawke’s coattails. They were fancy, expensive coattails, so why not? Leaving the main room, he headed for his ‘suite’, closing the door and locking it behind him. He checked the lock again before stepping away from it, heading straight for his bed.
His dreams were troubled to say the least. Memories of hard battles, close calls, dangers faced, and loves won and lost. They told his story, Hawke’s story, stories of people that didn’t even exist, and it seemed whoever was writing his dreams wanted to tell every story at once. His sleep was fitful but deep, and it felt like weeks before he finally managed to open his eyes. When he did, though, he wasn’t in his room at the Hanged Man anymore.
First-Person Sample:
Well well what do we have here? This little thing is really something else. I always wanted an easier way to record my stories, and this little beauty is the perfect trick.
Seems like a fair bet that I’m not really in Kirkwall anymore. Not that I’m complaining, really could be fun to get to know a new place. Just too bad Hawke’s not here, or maybe Anders. He seems like the adventurous type. Hah, listen to me, rambling on like this. Maybe I should introduce myself.
Varric Tethras, at your service.