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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33 (9:44 Dragon)
unknown [removed to the ferelden tower at the age of five]
red [light ginger variety]
she has a long vertical scar on her upper left arm from an encounter with a demon in the tower during uldred's uprising. she keeps it covered by clothing whenever possible, but has never been able to properly heal it.
BODY - niamh has become underweight from a great deal of time spent undersupplied on the run, with an above-average healing rate thanks to magic. she also suffers from chronic insomnia due to recurring nightmares. she is, in short, a glass cannon - a powerful mage that cannot withstand too much physical exertion or damage.
MIND - while she went on the run after the battle of denerim, she didn't make it without mental scars to accompany the physical. she's overcome the worst of her initial shell-shock, which left her completely mute when she first left the tower, though she's still prone to lapses of silence for hours or days. she also suffers from recurring nightmares to do with the experience, and unpredictable fits of hysteria in waking hours. being alone for extended periods of time has further weakened her coherence.
deborah ann woll
UNDER CONSTRUCTION / REVAMP
"No, no one's let me out."
She lets the words hang in the air alongside the dust and the meek whimper of the man in the last cot. It's oddly exhilarating to be letting that out into the open, even if she knows the ire that follows. It reminds her that this is all real.
The blood at her fingertips should do that, shouldn't it?
When anyone speaks of the visceral, they speak of blood and death. Of sharp steel striking, slicing, piercing. Not of the quieter moments when she encounters people who've hardly met three mages in their entire lives, and don't wish to be meeting one now. Blood is all she sees when she closes her eyes anyhow.
"You can't do that," he insists.
She raises a hand, revealing not a staff but a stained bandage she's changing. "Is your outrage worth his life? Is it worth theirs? Is it more important that you tell me I'm awful or that they live through the evening?"
He pauses for a long moment, and she takes this as tacit permission to get back to work.
"Why?" He asks, finally. "Why here, why - why not just head for the border or the ocean, if you're on the run?"
"There are Darkspawn at the gate, ser. If that's not sorted there's no point to running. I'll hope for the best in the morning if enough of Denerim's defenders survive the night."
Her hands shake as he turns to leave and the necessity of feigning bravery has passed. No, she's not supposed to be here, but she does need to be. What good is a healer locked away in a tower like a dragon's horde in a cave? And everyone needs the Blight stopped. She's not going to burn everything down just to spite the Wardens and their...everything. She can put her head between her knees after this is taken care of.
It's happened again, she let herself get swept up into something too big, and it's still her own fault.
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i am not the shortest staffer