Credit
Full Name: Vesryn Cormyth (VEZ-rin COR-mith)
Titles/Nicknames: Ves
Age: 36 (9:44)
Race: Elf
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Unrestricted.
Class: Warrior
Specialization: Champion
Hair Color: A nearly white blond.
Eye Color: Emerald Green.
Height: 6'1"
Build: Very well built for an elf.
Appearance: The elves of Thedas most commonly come in two varieties: the sleek, leanly built and agile elves calling themselves the Dalish, and the poor, malnourished and oppressed variety, the city elves, or flat-ears as the Dalish sometimes like to refer to them as. Vesryn was formerly of the latter group, but now he is neither, in most conceivable ways. He is very tall for an elf, standing above six feet, and powerfully built, with a broad chest, rippling musculature, and a toned physique. He has come a long way from the tall, thin stick of an elf he used to be.
His hair is a very light blond, more of a white than a silver, and is commonly left to grow quite long, falling down to the middle of his back. While wearing a helmet he will tie it back behind him, but otherwise his mass of hair is left loose, and he does so very much love the way it dramatically flutters in the wind, and the way it feels to run a rough, calloused hand through it. Vesryn is quite impressed by his own appearance, his glittering emerald green eyes, his prominent cheekbones and well-shaped nose, the skin of his face smooth and for the most part unblemished.
He dresses like neither Dalish nor city elf, for the most part. He travels often, and typically wears his armor while doing so, a full set of ancient elven plate, silver steel with a gilded trim, a thick overskirt of scales and blue-stained leather. His tallhelm is particularly impressive, with a plume of white hair fluttering from the peak, gilded wings stretching up from either side. The lion pelt he often wears as a cloak is not part of the ancient ensemble, but rather a personal addition, befitting his personality and preferences. Out of armor, he often dresses similarly to how a human noble might, crisply cut shirts of fine linen, soft and supple boots with embroidered pants tucked into them. He carries himself like he isn't an elf at all, concerned with neither oppression nor the aggression of the Dalish. Indeed, he is a strange story, and will be the first to admit it.
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9:43:
9:44:
Titles/Nicknames: Ves
Age: 36 (9:44)
Race: Elf
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Unrestricted.
Class: Warrior
Specialization: Champion
Hair Color: A nearly white blond.
Eye Color: Emerald Green.
Height: 6'1"
Build: Very well built for an elf.
Appearance: The elves of Thedas most commonly come in two varieties: the sleek, leanly built and agile elves calling themselves the Dalish, and the poor, malnourished and oppressed variety, the city elves, or flat-ears as the Dalish sometimes like to refer to them as. Vesryn was formerly of the latter group, but now he is neither, in most conceivable ways. He is very tall for an elf, standing above six feet, and powerfully built, with a broad chest, rippling musculature, and a toned physique. He has come a long way from the tall, thin stick of an elf he used to be.
His hair is a very light blond, more of a white than a silver, and is commonly left to grow quite long, falling down to the middle of his back. While wearing a helmet he will tie it back behind him, but otherwise his mass of hair is left loose, and he does so very much love the way it dramatically flutters in the wind, and the way it feels to run a rough, calloused hand through it. Vesryn is quite impressed by his own appearance, his glittering emerald green eyes, his prominent cheekbones and well-shaped nose, the skin of his face smooth and for the most part unblemished.
He dresses like neither Dalish nor city elf, for the most part. He travels often, and typically wears his armor while doing so, a full set of ancient elven plate, silver steel with a gilded trim, a thick overskirt of scales and blue-stained leather. His tallhelm is particularly impressive, with a plume of white hair fluttering from the peak, gilded wings stretching up from either side. The lion pelt he often wears as a cloak is not part of the ancient ensemble, but rather a personal addition, befitting his personality and preferences. Out of armor, he often dresses similarly to how a human noble might, crisply cut shirts of fine linen, soft and supple boots with embroidered pants tucked into them. He carries himself like he isn't an elf at all, concerned with neither oppression nor the aggression of the Dalish. Indeed, he is a strange story, and will be the first to admit it.
9:42:
Spoiler: show
9:43:
Spoiler: show
9:44:
Spoiler: show
"The body can tell a story of a man's life.
I could walk you through mine, if you like."
I could walk you through mine, if you like."
Credit (Ignore the ears, please)
Apparent Demeanor: Vesryn can't be called a loud or boisterous person, exactly, but he seems comfortable and at home in almost any informal social situation, excluding truly weighty or oppressive matters. He makes no attempts at being obnoxious, but at the same time, he rarely if ever holds back his laughs, he utilizes a wide array of odd facial expressions, and rarely hesitates to speak what's on his mind. He's not a subtle elf, but this is fine with him. He prefers things lighthearted and straightforward.
A common reaction of his towards things that are not that way is to find humor in them. He throughly enjoys a good tease, and one of his ways of judging character is in fact to make fun of a person, typically gently and without prodding into painful subjects if he can avoid it, to see how they react. So as not to be a hypocrite, he employs self-deprecative humor as well. His occasional veil of arrogance and self-touting is clearly just that: a veil. It's clear that while he doesn't truly think all that highly of himself, his self-outlook is not destructive, either. All people have their flaws, and he finds them endearing, typically, both in others and in himself.
A self proclaimed lover of all beautiful things, Vesryn will not hesitate to flirt with anyone he chooses to, man or woman, human or elf, dwarf or Qunari. This applies to beauty in the world as well. He appreciates the impressive beauty of Thedas, and has traveled a great deal over much of it, though the majority of his time has been spent in Ferelden and Orlais. He is nowhere more at home than on the road, or in the wild, with his horse, and the quiet, pleasant company he keeps in his head.
For all the strangeness of his mental situation, Vesryn typically does an excellent job at concealing the extra presence of Saraya floating around in his mind. Fifteen years is a long time to learn how, and indeed it was necessary. Many people who found out would not differentiate between his circumstances and a mage's possession, though he's at least relatively sure he hasn't been possessed. He'd like to think he would know if that happened.
Of all the things he jokes about in the world, Saraya's well-being is one thing he is truly serious about. They have been literally inseperable for the past decade and a half, and in that time developed one of the strangest bonds Vesryn could imagine. They don't always (or often) agree on things, but Saraya's influence is directly responsible for Vesryn's transformation into the man he is today.
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Hangups/Quirks: He doesn't show it much, but Vesryn actually has a great deal of elven pride. One might not think this, however, as he shows little interest in the ways of either the Dalish or the city elves. He will, however, always favor assisting them when the opportunity arises. This stems largely from the elven knowledge he hoards, the things Saraya has shown him, and the inklings of what he has gathered ancient elves were once like.
While he's typically very good about hiding Saraya's presence from other people, there are certain tells that give away that he is interacting, shown either when he's alone, thinks he's alone, or is around those who know of Saraya and are willing to refrain from attacking him for being an abomination or some such horror. He laughs to himself more than one might expect, speaks to himself occasionally, and has a way of changing directions quickly when searching for something.
Strengths: Vesryn thanks Saraya for most of his strengths. She was a remarkably talented woman, a warrior and a tracker, a mountaineer and horseback rider. Many of the skills she had are now Vesryn's own from having practiced them so much, but he recognizes that he was fairly useless before meeting her. Now he's entirely self-sufficient if he needs to be, and holds an incredible depth of elven knowledge from his studies and travels. It pales in comparison to what the ancient elves knew, but it's remarkable, all the same. One strength Vesryn has always possessed is the ease with which he typically makes friends, with his easy manner and openness (on all subjects but the one, usually).
Weaknesses: If Ves was attempting to create a serious relationship with someone, it might be difficult for them to realize a genuine display of affection from him. He doesn't do serious all that well, which can inevitably lead to some stepping on toes if other people are trying to be that way. He was born a city elf, and so has some working knowledge of customs of the lower classes, but in the realms of nobility and politics, he's pretty helpless, and will probably get himself into trouble with his mouth. The level of tact required to adequately play an intricate game of the nobility is not something he can reasonably achieve.
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Fears: Vesryn will dutifully avoid any sort of magic that messes with the mind if he can at all avoid it. Horror spells, blood magic, even simple alchemical draughts designed to cure a headache. He doesn't understand the magic that put Saraya in his head, so he has no real idea of what, if anything, can separate them. Given that she has no body to separate to, this would likely lead to her death. Neither of them has desired this for some time. And in addition to his care for her, Vesryn can't help but feel that there's a risk of somehow losing the knowledge and skills he has acquired if their minds are separated.
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A common reaction of his towards things that are not that way is to find humor in them. He throughly enjoys a good tease, and one of his ways of judging character is in fact to make fun of a person, typically gently and without prodding into painful subjects if he can avoid it, to see how they react. So as not to be a hypocrite, he employs self-deprecative humor as well. His occasional veil of arrogance and self-touting is clearly just that: a veil. It's clear that while he doesn't truly think all that highly of himself, his self-outlook is not destructive, either. All people have their flaws, and he finds them endearing, typically, both in others and in himself.
A self proclaimed lover of all beautiful things, Vesryn will not hesitate to flirt with anyone he chooses to, man or woman, human or elf, dwarf or Qunari. This applies to beauty in the world as well. He appreciates the impressive beauty of Thedas, and has traveled a great deal over much of it, though the majority of his time has been spent in Ferelden and Orlais. He is nowhere more at home than on the road, or in the wild, with his horse, and the quiet, pleasant company he keeps in his head.
For all the strangeness of his mental situation, Vesryn typically does an excellent job at concealing the extra presence of Saraya floating around in his mind. Fifteen years is a long time to learn how, and indeed it was necessary. Many people who found out would not differentiate between his circumstances and a mage's possession, though he's at least relatively sure he hasn't been possessed. He'd like to think he would know if that happened.
Of all the things he jokes about in the world, Saraya's well-being is one thing he is truly serious about. They have been literally inseperable for the past decade and a half, and in that time developed one of the strangest bonds Vesryn could imagine. They don't always (or often) agree on things, but Saraya's influence is directly responsible for Vesryn's transformation into the man he is today.
9:42:
Spoiler: show
9:43:
Spoiler: show
9:44:
Spoiler: show
Hangups/Quirks: He doesn't show it much, but Vesryn actually has a great deal of elven pride. One might not think this, however, as he shows little interest in the ways of either the Dalish or the city elves. He will, however, always favor assisting them when the opportunity arises. This stems largely from the elven knowledge he hoards, the things Saraya has shown him, and the inklings of what he has gathered ancient elves were once like.
While he's typically very good about hiding Saraya's presence from other people, there are certain tells that give away that he is interacting, shown either when he's alone, thinks he's alone, or is around those who know of Saraya and are willing to refrain from attacking him for being an abomination or some such horror. He laughs to himself more than one might expect, speaks to himself occasionally, and has a way of changing directions quickly when searching for something.
Strengths: Vesryn thanks Saraya for most of his strengths. She was a remarkably talented woman, a warrior and a tracker, a mountaineer and horseback rider. Many of the skills she had are now Vesryn's own from having practiced them so much, but he recognizes that he was fairly useless before meeting her. Now he's entirely self-sufficient if he needs to be, and holds an incredible depth of elven knowledge from his studies and travels. It pales in comparison to what the ancient elves knew, but it's remarkable, all the same. One strength Vesryn has always possessed is the ease with which he typically makes friends, with his easy manner and openness (on all subjects but the one, usually).
Weaknesses: If Ves was attempting to create a serious relationship with someone, it might be difficult for them to realize a genuine display of affection from him. He doesn't do serious all that well, which can inevitably lead to some stepping on toes if other people are trying to be that way. He was born a city elf, and so has some working knowledge of customs of the lower classes, but in the realms of nobility and politics, he's pretty helpless, and will probably get himself into trouble with his mouth. The level of tact required to adequately play an intricate game of the nobility is not something he can reasonably achieve.
9:43:
Spoiler: show
Fears: Vesryn will dutifully avoid any sort of magic that messes with the mind if he can at all avoid it. Horror spells, blood magic, even simple alchemical draughts designed to cure a headache. He doesn't understand the magic that put Saraya in his head, so he has no real idea of what, if anything, can separate them. Given that she has no body to separate to, this would likely lead to her death. Neither of them has desired this for some time. And in addition to his care for her, Vesryn can't help but feel that there's a risk of somehow losing the knowledge and skills he has acquired if their minds are separated.
9:43:
Spoiler: show
"I'm a believer in second chances.
Gods know I've had a few myself."
Gods know I've had a few myself."
Strength: XXXXXx⧠ââââââââ â [8/10]
Dexterity:XXXXX ⧠âââââââ â [7/10]
Intelligence: XXX⧠âââââââ â [7/10]
Wisdom: XXXXXX⧠ââââ â [4/10]
Cunning: XXXXXX⧠âââ â [3/10]
Magic: XXXXXXXX⧠â [0/10]
Willpower: XXXX ⧠ââââââ â [6/10]
Constitution: XXX⧠âââââââ â [7/10]
Weapon of Choice: Vesryn fights primarily with a bardiche, a weapon he originally referred to as "a big axe on a big stick," much to Saraya's annoyance. It's a fairly heavy, but versatile weapon, effective at longer ranges than hand axes, with more slashing punch than a spear could ever get. Other armament include a long spear and tower shield combination, employed where much greater defence is warranted. His sidearm is a short combat knife, used largely for emergencies, such as when he is disarmed, or an enemy encroaches within the minimum range of his primary weapons.
Fighting Style/Training: A tall, lanky elf was transformed into a highly skilled warrior over the course of a day. Well, not exactly, but the knowledge was put there, the instincts to be repeated and honed until they were his own. Vesryn and Saraya fight as one, two pairs of eyes watching over one body, in one suit of ancient elven plate. Fighting in heavy gear with grace is not easy to do, but Vesryn does the bloody dance well, utilizing his impressive strength (gained after years of work forced on him by his relentless drillmaster) along with heightened balance and footwork to outplay opponents in melee combat. With the bardiche, he tears down defenses and cleaves them in two. With the tower shield and spear, he is a bulwark, a nearly unbreakable wall that will impale enemies that attempt to break through. He also happens to be quite a skilled cavalry combatant, fighting with spear and shield from horseback when the situation calls for it.
9:43:
Dexterity:XXXXX ⧠âââââââ â [7/10]
Intelligence: XXX⧠âââââââ â [7/10]
Wisdom: XXXXXX⧠ââââ â [4/10]
Cunning: XXXXXX⧠âââ â [3/10]
Magic: XXXXXXXX⧠â [0/10]
Willpower: XXXX ⧠ââââââ â [6/10]
Constitution: XXX⧠âââââââ â [7/10]
Weapon of Choice: Vesryn fights primarily with a bardiche, a weapon he originally referred to as "a big axe on a big stick," much to Saraya's annoyance. It's a fairly heavy, but versatile weapon, effective at longer ranges than hand axes, with more slashing punch than a spear could ever get. Other armament include a long spear and tower shield combination, employed where much greater defence is warranted. His sidearm is a short combat knife, used largely for emergencies, such as when he is disarmed, or an enemy encroaches within the minimum range of his primary weapons.
Fighting Style/Training: A tall, lanky elf was transformed into a highly skilled warrior over the course of a day. Well, not exactly, but the knowledge was put there, the instincts to be repeated and honed until they were his own. Vesryn and Saraya fight as one, two pairs of eyes watching over one body, in one suit of ancient elven plate. Fighting in heavy gear with grace is not easy to do, but Vesryn does the bloody dance well, utilizing his impressive strength (gained after years of work forced on him by his relentless drillmaster) along with heightened balance and footwork to outplay opponents in melee combat. With the bardiche, he tears down defenses and cleaves them in two. With the tower shield and spear, he is a bulwark, a nearly unbreakable wall that will impale enemies that attempt to break through. He also happens to be quite a skilled cavalry combatant, fighting with spear and shield from horseback when the situation calls for it.
9:43:
Spoiler: show
"If I die on the battlefield, I intend to do so well-dressed.
That said, I'd prefer... not to die. That's where the axe comes in."
That said, I'd prefer... not to die. That's where the axe comes in."
Place of Birth: Denerim, Ferelden
Social Status/Rank: He's... nothing, really. A wanderer, belonging to seemingly no organization or faction other than himself. He was part of a mercenary company for a short period of a few years, but has since moved on. An axe-armed explorer and historian is perhaps the best description for him.
History: Vesryn Cormyth joined the ranks of the flat-ears of Denerim in 9:08 Dragon, and was a problem for everyone from pretty much his first day on. The alienage had few enough ways to stay entertained, and very few paths that anyone could take to better themselves. To Vesryn, there was boredom, hunger, marriage, and the producing of children to partake in the same things he had just been through. With this outlook, it is no surprise that he began to turn to other options, ones that most elves were not brave (or foolish) enough to consider.
At the age of eighteen, faced with the prospect of a looming marriage arranged by his parents, Vesryn gathered the closest and most impressionable of his friends and planned an escape. Merely a show of defiance, they would flee the city and make for the Brecilian forest. After camping for a few days and enjoying the company of no one but each other, they'd return to their shitty lives and probably give in to the weight of necessity.
Obviously, it didn't pan out that way, as most elaborate plans of teenagers to go. The escape went just fine, but they clearly had done little to prepare for the dangers of the forest. The group was quickly separated by a combination of sylvans and extremely large spiders, with Vesryn somehow becoming separated from the group and driven deeper into the forest rather than out of it. Fleeing for his life, he stumbled into an old ruin of long forgotten elves from another age, hiding from the nearby beasts. When they passed him by, he allowed himself to explore. When he found himself thirsty, he drank from a pedestal of clean water in one of the deeper rooms of the ruins.
He probably should have realized that water sitting around in a room for years and years should not have been so clean, but he drank anyway, somewhat delirious from truly running for his life for the first time. The water did little to him at first, but eventually he began to hear things, like inanimate objects in the room were calling out to him. One of these was a phylactery, a small vial placed in a small cupboard, though Vesryn did not recognize it for what it was. It seemed to recognize his presence, and called out to be taken. Though he believed himself to be going mad, Vesryn did it anyway.
The moment he picked up the phylactery, the consciousness of the ancient elven woman trapped inside was forcefully injected into his mind. The following several hours were nothing but literally mind-splitting pain, amplified by the fact that this woman was feeling it, too, and Vesryn was immediately capable of feeling everything that she felt. Thus began an immensely complex relationship between a city elf and a warrior woman from a time when elves ruled all Thedas.
Vesryn steadily fought through the foreign feelings in his head to determine some of the rules of their entaglement. She could not speak to him, not in any tongue. For all intents and purposes, she became simply a passenger inside his head. But Vesryn could feel her reactions and feelings to everything he saw and did, distinctly separate from his own. How he determined that she was female, he could not say. He just knew.
At first, she was overcome with a wracking despair, the proximity to which was capable of bringing Vesryn to tears. She had sought release more than anything, and thought that maybe Vesryn could grant it to her, finally. Instead, he had simply transferred her to a new prison. For a time, he thought this the best solution as well, to remove her, to let her have her rest. But when he left the ruined temple... he felt such powerfully genuine emotions. The wonder of a woman who had been forced to see nothing for thousands of years, her amazement, shock, and occasionally sorrow at seeing how the world had changed. He could not help but find his situation, and this woman, utterly remarkable. It would soon become the first thing to truly matter to Vesryn.
He refused to return to the Alienage, instead allowing the woman to guide him, knowing clearly enough when he was going a way she did not desire. With him as her new cage, she was understandably invested in improving him, and so she pushed him to work harder, something that came naturally when living in the wilderness. Her instincts became second nature to Vesryn, who quickly picked up skills that would have taken him years otherwise. He never could figure out what her real name was, but after trying many of them, she seemed accepting of Saraya. And Saraya had at least temporarily put aside her desire for release, intent on guiding Vesryn to some goal while she was within him.
He explored places long untouched by humans or elves, learning and uncovering history all but forgotten by modern peoples. He acquired a set of armor to wear from one of these, and weapons that Saraya was familiar with. To pay his way, he joined a mercenary company in Orlais for a time, honing his skills and expanding his borders. He remained in Orlais for the duration of the Blight, avoiding the horrors that would have befallen him had he been in Denerim at the time. Now, however, he has returned to his homeland, having left the mercenaries behind, in order to continue his search for more of the legacy of the elves.
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9:43:
9:44:
Social Status/Rank: He's... nothing, really. A wanderer, belonging to seemingly no organization or faction other than himself. He was part of a mercenary company for a short period of a few years, but has since moved on. An axe-armed explorer and historian is perhaps the best description for him.
History: Vesryn Cormyth joined the ranks of the flat-ears of Denerim in 9:08 Dragon, and was a problem for everyone from pretty much his first day on. The alienage had few enough ways to stay entertained, and very few paths that anyone could take to better themselves. To Vesryn, there was boredom, hunger, marriage, and the producing of children to partake in the same things he had just been through. With this outlook, it is no surprise that he began to turn to other options, ones that most elves were not brave (or foolish) enough to consider.
At the age of eighteen, faced with the prospect of a looming marriage arranged by his parents, Vesryn gathered the closest and most impressionable of his friends and planned an escape. Merely a show of defiance, they would flee the city and make for the Brecilian forest. After camping for a few days and enjoying the company of no one but each other, they'd return to their shitty lives and probably give in to the weight of necessity.
Obviously, it didn't pan out that way, as most elaborate plans of teenagers to go. The escape went just fine, but they clearly had done little to prepare for the dangers of the forest. The group was quickly separated by a combination of sylvans and extremely large spiders, with Vesryn somehow becoming separated from the group and driven deeper into the forest rather than out of it. Fleeing for his life, he stumbled into an old ruin of long forgotten elves from another age, hiding from the nearby beasts. When they passed him by, he allowed himself to explore. When he found himself thirsty, he drank from a pedestal of clean water in one of the deeper rooms of the ruins.
He probably should have realized that water sitting around in a room for years and years should not have been so clean, but he drank anyway, somewhat delirious from truly running for his life for the first time. The water did little to him at first, but eventually he began to hear things, like inanimate objects in the room were calling out to him. One of these was a phylactery, a small vial placed in a small cupboard, though Vesryn did not recognize it for what it was. It seemed to recognize his presence, and called out to be taken. Though he believed himself to be going mad, Vesryn did it anyway.
The moment he picked up the phylactery, the consciousness of the ancient elven woman trapped inside was forcefully injected into his mind. The following several hours were nothing but literally mind-splitting pain, amplified by the fact that this woman was feeling it, too, and Vesryn was immediately capable of feeling everything that she felt. Thus began an immensely complex relationship between a city elf and a warrior woman from a time when elves ruled all Thedas.
Vesryn steadily fought through the foreign feelings in his head to determine some of the rules of their entaglement. She could not speak to him, not in any tongue. For all intents and purposes, she became simply a passenger inside his head. But Vesryn could feel her reactions and feelings to everything he saw and did, distinctly separate from his own. How he determined that she was female, he could not say. He just knew.
At first, she was overcome with a wracking despair, the proximity to which was capable of bringing Vesryn to tears. She had sought release more than anything, and thought that maybe Vesryn could grant it to her, finally. Instead, he had simply transferred her to a new prison. For a time, he thought this the best solution as well, to remove her, to let her have her rest. But when he left the ruined temple... he felt such powerfully genuine emotions. The wonder of a woman who had been forced to see nothing for thousands of years, her amazement, shock, and occasionally sorrow at seeing how the world had changed. He could not help but find his situation, and this woman, utterly remarkable. It would soon become the first thing to truly matter to Vesryn.
He refused to return to the Alienage, instead allowing the woman to guide him, knowing clearly enough when he was going a way she did not desire. With him as her new cage, she was understandably invested in improving him, and so she pushed him to work harder, something that came naturally when living in the wilderness. Her instincts became second nature to Vesryn, who quickly picked up skills that would have taken him years otherwise. He never could figure out what her real name was, but after trying many of them, she seemed accepting of Saraya. And Saraya had at least temporarily put aside her desire for release, intent on guiding Vesryn to some goal while she was within him.
He explored places long untouched by humans or elves, learning and uncovering history all but forgotten by modern peoples. He acquired a set of armor to wear from one of these, and weapons that Saraya was familiar with. To pay his way, he joined a mercenary company in Orlais for a time, honing his skills and expanding his borders. He remained in Orlais for the duration of the Blight, avoiding the horrors that would have befallen him had he been in Denerim at the time. Now, however, he has returned to his homeland, having left the mercenaries behind, in order to continue his search for more of the legacy of the elves.
9:42:
Spoiler: show
9:43:
Spoiler: show
9:44:
Spoiler: show
Spoiler: show
"It's not easy, realizing that your head's been in the clouds your whole life.
But the world below has its charms, I'll give it that."
But the world below has its charms, I'll give it that."
