UNBOUNDHere on Unbound, our plot follows four different timelines, set throughout the canonical history of the Dragon Age. The events following Trespasser, the time of the Inquisition, the rise of the Champion of Kirkwall and the quest of the Warden against the Fifth Blight.
And So is the Golden City blackened
With each step you take in my Hall.
Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting.
You have brought Sin to Heaven
And doom upon all the world.
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she changed her name in an effort at assimilation. inez is what she adopted for herself; something more palatable for the orlesians. the last name of hiroux is added flair for a stage name.
born 30 firstfall 9:12
while looked down upon as an elf, it comes with the advantage of being overlooked and underestimated.
born in halamshiral
initially, inez was simply a traveling minstrel adept at several instruments as well as singing. years later, she was recruited and trained by a bardmaster.bellwether informant, the chariot
after becoming disillusioned with the grand game and orlais during the war of the lions, inez ultimately decided to lend her talents to the bellwether.
laerana, younger sister
rilaithon, younger brother
inez has gone to great lengths to distance herself from her family in order to protect them. once in a blue moon she will write and send money.
short bow, adeptdaggers
adept, sometimes it's cleaner just to do it the old fashioned wayalchemy
poison making, journeymanskills
lock picking, expert
her left ear, however, is missing the tip.otherwise, none. a lot of effort was put forth in making her ... unremarkable. any scars are sure to be hidden underneath clothing.
coming off cold and aloof, inez's training has left a lasting impression. it is difficult for her to put down her walls even in private company. it has always been imperative to not allow any gesture or facial expression go as to not reveal one's motives.mnemonist
through mnemonic techniques like the method of loci, inez has worked diligently on improving her memory. its critical for her memorization of faces, names and orlesian masks.
29 Justinian 9:41 Dragon
The smell of death was penetrating. The wind carried the sour scent of war across the Plains. Dirthavaren smelled of mourning itself. A distant song of everything that the Dales once was, the land littered with dilapidated memories of an empire long fallen. They did nothing but desecrate this place more with their trenches, their ramparts, their spilt human blood over a crown.
No. There were more frightening things prowling these lands than the men holding the banners of a Gold or Black Lion and their deserters. The dead had risen. The veil had torn before them. The humans had ceased crossing sword - for now - as they struggled with walking bones.
I apologize for the delay and curtness of this letter.
The low light of the fire did not offer much for visibility, but she would attempt all the same. This was her third parchment before opting to no longer be wasteful. Another letter needed to be sent for Val Royeaux to question the conflicting information they sent her. A confirmation that, indeed, the woman in question was seen in an alienage the same day Inez saw her on these very plains.
A feat that was quickly labelled impossible. The information, however, was reliable. Trustworthy. It was one thing when it was rumors - inflation in the ranks of a leader who could do the incredible and dramatizations of a scared Orlesian gentry. An organization who traded in information, no matter its recent struggles, still served its purpose.
I should have never left Val Royeaux. There are greater dangers than what lie behind a mask here in the countryside.
She knew the nature of men. Their actions were easily predicted, easily calculated. An enemy that could be defeated. Inez had never quite known fear. Not the kind that send so many men to their knees, a bead of sweat building on their brow. That utmost primal of emotions had been beaten out of her years ago and yet she flinched, reaching for her bow at the sight of a demon, at the undead who ran towards the ramparts. Unholy. Unnatural.
I know you worry for me, just as I worry for you. I will be honest in saying that I find myself thinking the worst when you did not respond promptly. Hypocritical. That is on me, not you.
There was nothing so dangerous as to carry an affection for another person. It was a weakness that could be exploited without doubt. How many times had she offered information about affairs or mistresses? Logically – really, it was beyond logic – it would be best to cease all communication with this nigh-faceless stranger. A lingering tie to a youth she separated herself from long ago… except for this. She would never be so important as to have something like this preyed upon yet she still worried about the implications.
It was her watch; she could not stay occupied much longer. Best to pay more attention to the howl of the wind and the rustling of the trees than worry about a letter.
Time is against me. I will write again soon. I promise.
I don’t normally dwell into politics… but these are trying times, indeed. The Chantry might have thoughts about the Herald and their claims but if what they say is true… If she can close these ‘rifts’…. We need someone like her.
I hope you remain safe,
Her companions, though elven themselves, called her Inez all the same. That is who she was, after all. The fact she still signed these letters by that name eluded her. A sense of loyalty, perhaps. A decade and more she had written these letters. Inez didn’t think much of it as she sealed it in simple wax.
It would be some time before she would be able to send it, maybe even until she got to Val Royeaux. It was done, at least. She wouldn’t have to fret about what she’d write any longer. Siona deserved more, she knew that, but there were more important things.
It was stuffed into her pack, the corners of it crumping it the process. Inez propped herself up on a rock, an arrow in hand and bow on her lap. The enemy nearly always struck under the cloak of night.
3 Harvestmere 9:42 Dragon
Marquis of the Dales.
The title rang hollow. It didn’t mean much; it would never mean much. Whatever ‘power’ it gave would only be contested by the others with titles.
No matter. She had left that behind many months ago. There were more pressing things to worry about. Letters to write, places to go, songs to sing, people to die. A legacy to uphold. Time didn’t wait for her to worry about allegiances or justice; time only waited for her to fulfill her duty.
A year ago she contested the organizations impartiality. What good did impartiality get them? There wasn’t always a right versus a wrong … but sometimes there was. A misjudgment on her part, perhaps. She used the cracking of the Bellwether to her advantage; at the time there were more important things to focus on than a brokerage that argued over an alignment with the Inquisition. There was a woman who promised a future for the elves that instilled an inspiration she had only experienced once before.
Inez couldn’t properly do her duty as the Chariot when she was trapesing in the countryside sabotaging the Imperial armies. That war was over now.
She signed those missives with the same pseudonym her mentor did. A duty that she dedicated herself to in losing of her last one. It was simple; a return to what she had always been good at. She was a bard. She wasn’t a soldier. No matter the political climate, no matter who was Emperor or Empress … they’d always need people like her.
Orlais built this Game. They would reap what they had sown.
i've been stalking the bellwether for too long and finally gave into temptation. also i want to hurt milk and bug