Application for somarium
[Player name] Emerald
[Age] OLD
[Personal Journal] Does not has
[Other characters currently played]
Sephiroth / FFVII / furorimperator
Sir Hellsing / Hellsing / hellsingmaster
Saix / Kingdom Hearts / injureaheart
[Character name] Zevran Arainai
[Age] Unknown, but by game canon standards, probably somewhere in elvish early middle age
[Canon] Dragon Age: Origins
[Point in time taken from canon] Before the Landsmeet, but after the Arl's quest, receiving the Dalish gloves from the Warden and with all three treaties called.
[Background] Dragon Age Wiki for Zev
★ For the game's sake, since Zevran is a romancable option for the player character and others of the same might have their own memories/stories, we'll simply say that Zevran and the Warden were close friends but not intimately involved.
[Personality] Despite the fact that he was born into slavery, sold at an early age into an assassin's guild called The Crows and raised to either join that guild or die very early, Zevran is rather laid-back and happy-go-lucky. He tends to take one day at a time, come what may and lets bygones be bygones.
Zevran has a very quick tongue, both in wit and...other activities, and is never long in coming back with a smartassed remark. Coupled with a naughty sense of humor and the Antivan elf is a force to be reckoned with, indeed. No stranger to the pleasures of the flesh, Zevran finds beauty in all things, shapes and forms, both male and female. Not the least bit shy about saying so to anyone who happens to catch his interest, Zev takes his pleasures where he finds them and makes no long-lasting attachments. Healthier that way, you know.
As an assassin, he's very broad minded when it comes to killing people, and even admits that it's not just for the money, but there's that sense of power that comes when holding someone's life in his hand. It's a dangerous attraction, one which Zevran enjoys. Resourceful and creative, he uses whatever weapon he can, be it sex or a dagger to fulfill his mission. He makes no qualms about his career choice, and even if he were not a Crow, he doesn't believe he'd do anything different.
Loyalty is subjective; Zevran is loyal to The Crows simply because it is easier to be so than to try and outlive their silencing attempts; and he is loyal to the Warden because he feels any of The Crows would be idiots to attempt attacking the Warden and companions. Which was Zevran's mistake, actually. However, he does admit that the Warden's quest is intriguing and he can never pass up a chance to enjoy a good battle, no matter the odds. He eventually comes to respect and admire the Warden, which leads him to reinvestigate his own code of ethics and the subjectivity of his personal morals.
For all his flippancy and brashness, Zevran is hardly a shallow being. Over the course of his life, he has been both hurt and betrayed by those for whom he cared deeply, which in turn left hard scars on the elf's emotions. This breaking of trust no doubt led to the shell in which he surrounds himself, as well as the nonchalant way he behaves towards others. Once one comes to know him, however, it is easy to see that Zevran is wary of letting others close, thanks to his strong sense of survival. But he is easy to befriend and banter with, having little sense of propriety no matter with whom he interacts.
[Abilities]
♱ Accomplished thief - can even "blend with shadows" in some circumstances, disappearing entirely
♱ Skilled locksmith
♱ Agile, quick, dexterous - high above normal human standards
♱ Charmingly persuasive
♱ Highly-trained duelist - high above normal human standards
♱ Fourth-level potion maker
♱ Third-level trap maker
♱ Skilled proficient archer - high above normal human standards
[Other important stuff] Flirts with anything. Has an affinity for gold, silver and other shiny metals. First class pickpocket. A fiend for the scent of leather. Prefers city life. Loves to tell stories of his "grand adventures". Not your typical Tolkien elf - he's rather...short. And sinewy muscled. Tattoos - on the left side of his face and a few more designs on his back.
[Sample post]
[First Person]
...I do not recall going to sleep here. ...and where the devil has the camp disappeared to?
[A heavily exasperated sigh and the Antivan elf rubs his eyes. After a moment of searching for calm, he crosses his arms and taps his fingers, calling out into the unfamiliar territory. ]
You have made your point, Alistair! It is time to come out now; we have darkspawn awaiting!
[It's a bit unsettling when no answer comes. Not even a Templar snicker. Then he snorts.]
Come now, Morrigan, I do not find this the slightest bit amusing.
[Still nothing.]
Wynne? Oghren?
...now where have they gotten to? [Then he laughs, still unfazed.] Oh dear, those poor sots drunk in a tavern somewhere. Let me see, what was the name of that place again? The Soiled Dog? No. Hmm, The Crow's Wing? Ech, definitely not; I would have recalled that one right off.
Ah, no matter. I shall find them. [He glances around, eyebrow quirked.] Well...eventually.
[Third Person]
Subdued amber eyes watched from the shadows as the lord of the house entered his private apartments. Little did the noble know, but tonight was his last night upon this world, for he had been marked, and even now, the assassin lurked nearby, waiting for the opportune moment.
Zevran crouched near the massive chest in the corner, unseen and unheard, for he blended so well with the shadows that he was virtually invisible, and not only did his race give him stealth, but his expert training had honed that vestige to a razor point. The dagger he procured from his belt made not the first rasp as it cleared its sheath, nor did it even flash in the candlelight.
He did not know nor did he care why this man was sentenced to die; the elf knew him not, but simply knew that he had been given this "great" noble's name and in less than a quarter hour it would be struck from the book of the living. On silent feet he crept, as the lord began to undress for the night, completely oblivious that death approached.
Nor did the lord make the first sound as he felt the dagger thrust through his back and enter his kidney, for a hard gloved hand clamped over his mouth and nose just as the blade pierced flesh. The human stiffened and then sighed, going slack in the killer's arms. Zevran withdrew his dagger and gently lowered the corpse to the floor, making sure to arrange it in such a way that no one would mistake the circumstance.
Zevran cleaned blood from the blade on the hem of the lord's garish robe; never abuse the tools of the trade, after all. Two minutes later, the elf was returning the way he'd come; another mission complete, another job done. He did not look back as he slipped from the castle and vanished into the darkness. He was a Crow. An assassin. And he held no regrets.
[Why do you want to play this character in Somarium?] Zevran's a lot of fun. And since I play three ZOMGSRSBZNS characters already, it's nice to have someone to offset that heavily tipped balance.
[Which rule was your favorite and why?] PETS. This will be the answer forever.
[Where did you hear about Somarium?] I play here!
[Any questions?] "May I rest my head on your bosom? I wish to cry."
---------------
[Age] OLD
[Personal Journal] Does not has
[Other characters currently played]
Sephiroth / FFVII / furorimperator
Sir Hellsing / Hellsing / hellsingmaster
Saix / Kingdom Hearts / injureaheart
[Character name] Zevran Arainai
[Age] Unknown, but by game canon standards, probably somewhere in elvish early middle age
[Canon] Dragon Age: Origins
[Point in time taken from canon] Before the Landsmeet, but after the Arl's quest, receiving the Dalish gloves from the Warden and with all three treaties called.
[Background] Dragon Age Wiki for Zev
★ For the game's sake, since Zevran is a romancable option for the player character and others of the same might have their own memories/stories, we'll simply say that Zevran and the Warden were close friends but not intimately involved.
[Personality] Despite the fact that he was born into slavery, sold at an early age into an assassin's guild called The Crows and raised to either join that guild or die very early, Zevran is rather laid-back and happy-go-lucky. He tends to take one day at a time, come what may and lets bygones be bygones.
Zevran has a very quick tongue, both in wit and...other activities, and is never long in coming back with a smartassed remark. Coupled with a naughty sense of humor and the Antivan elf is a force to be reckoned with, indeed. No stranger to the pleasures of the flesh, Zevran finds beauty in all things, shapes and forms, both male and female. Not the least bit shy about saying so to anyone who happens to catch his interest, Zev takes his pleasures where he finds them and makes no long-lasting attachments. Healthier that way, you know.
As an assassin, he's very broad minded when it comes to killing people, and even admits that it's not just for the money, but there's that sense of power that comes when holding someone's life in his hand. It's a dangerous attraction, one which Zevran enjoys. Resourceful and creative, he uses whatever weapon he can, be it sex or a dagger to fulfill his mission. He makes no qualms about his career choice, and even if he were not a Crow, he doesn't believe he'd do anything different.
Loyalty is subjective; Zevran is loyal to The Crows simply because it is easier to be so than to try and outlive their silencing attempts; and he is loyal to the Warden because he feels any of The Crows would be idiots to attempt attacking the Warden and companions. Which was Zevran's mistake, actually. However, he does admit that the Warden's quest is intriguing and he can never pass up a chance to enjoy a good battle, no matter the odds. He eventually comes to respect and admire the Warden, which leads him to reinvestigate his own code of ethics and the subjectivity of his personal morals.
For all his flippancy and brashness, Zevran is hardly a shallow being. Over the course of his life, he has been both hurt and betrayed by those for whom he cared deeply, which in turn left hard scars on the elf's emotions. This breaking of trust no doubt led to the shell in which he surrounds himself, as well as the nonchalant way he behaves towards others. Once one comes to know him, however, it is easy to see that Zevran is wary of letting others close, thanks to his strong sense of survival. But he is easy to befriend and banter with, having little sense of propriety no matter with whom he interacts.
[Abilities]
♱ Accomplished thief - can even "blend with shadows" in some circumstances, disappearing entirely
♱ Skilled locksmith
♱ Agile, quick, dexterous - high above normal human standards
♱ Charmingly persuasive
♱ Highly-trained duelist - high above normal human standards
♱ Fourth-level potion maker
♱ Third-level trap maker
♱ Skilled proficient archer - high above normal human standards
[Other important stuff] Flirts with anything. Has an affinity for gold, silver and other shiny metals. First class pickpocket. A fiend for the scent of leather. Prefers city life. Loves to tell stories of his "grand adventures". Not your typical Tolkien elf - he's rather...short. And sinewy muscled. Tattoos - on the left side of his face and a few more designs on his back.
[Sample post]
[First Person]
...I do not recall going to sleep here. ...and where the devil has the camp disappeared to?
[A heavily exasperated sigh and the Antivan elf rubs his eyes. After a moment of searching for calm, he crosses his arms and taps his fingers, calling out into the unfamiliar territory. ]
You have made your point, Alistair! It is time to come out now; we have darkspawn awaiting!
[It's a bit unsettling when no answer comes. Not even a Templar snicker. Then he snorts.]
Come now, Morrigan, I do not find this the slightest bit amusing.
[Still nothing.]
Wynne? Oghren?
...now where have they gotten to? [Then he laughs, still unfazed.] Oh dear, those poor sots drunk in a tavern somewhere. Let me see, what was the name of that place again? The Soiled Dog? No. Hmm, The Crow's Wing? Ech, definitely not; I would have recalled that one right off.
Ah, no matter. I shall find them. [He glances around, eyebrow quirked.] Well...eventually.
[Third Person]
Subdued amber eyes watched from the shadows as the lord of the house entered his private apartments. Little did the noble know, but tonight was his last night upon this world, for he had been marked, and even now, the assassin lurked nearby, waiting for the opportune moment.
Zevran crouched near the massive chest in the corner, unseen and unheard, for he blended so well with the shadows that he was virtually invisible, and not only did his race give him stealth, but his expert training had honed that vestige to a razor point. The dagger he procured from his belt made not the first rasp as it cleared its sheath, nor did it even flash in the candlelight.
He did not know nor did he care why this man was sentenced to die; the elf knew him not, but simply knew that he had been given this "great" noble's name and in less than a quarter hour it would be struck from the book of the living. On silent feet he crept, as the lord began to undress for the night, completely oblivious that death approached.
Nor did the lord make the first sound as he felt the dagger thrust through his back and enter his kidney, for a hard gloved hand clamped over his mouth and nose just as the blade pierced flesh. The human stiffened and then sighed, going slack in the killer's arms. Zevran withdrew his dagger and gently lowered the corpse to the floor, making sure to arrange it in such a way that no one would mistake the circumstance.
Zevran cleaned blood from the blade on the hem of the lord's garish robe; never abuse the tools of the trade, after all. Two minutes later, the elf was returning the way he'd come; another mission complete, another job done. He did not look back as he slipped from the castle and vanished into the darkness. He was a Crow. An assassin. And he held no regrets.
[Why do you want to play this character in Somarium?] Zevran's a lot of fun. And since I play three ZOMGSRSBZNS characters already, it's nice to have someone to offset that heavily tipped balance.
[Which rule was your favorite and why?] PETS. This will be the answer forever.
[Where did you hear about Somarium?] I play here!
[Any questions?] "May I rest my head on your bosom? I wish to cry."
---------------