Information



Sloane
Legacy Name: Sloane


The Sweetheart Malticorn
Owner: finch

Age: 14 years, 11 months, 2 weeks

Born: April 15th, 2009

Adopted: 13 years, 10 months, 5 days ago

Adopted: May 23rd, 2010

Statistics


  • Level: 69
     
  • Strength: 67
     
  • Defense: 57
     
  • Speed: 42
     
  • Health: 63
     
  • HP: 45/63
     
  • Intelligence: 0
     
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed


THIS IS A TITLE
THIRD OF BLOOMINGTIDE, 9:30 DA

The trip from Highever to Ostagar was long and arduous, and left Sloane feeling more agitated than nervous. Her fellow soldiers varied from pompous, arrogant mercenaries to bumbling, overwrought businessmen. She spent most of the journey listening to them deplore one plight or another, and it wore quickly on her patience for company.

Sloane herself had not been drafted, unlike the blacksmith she shared a tent with, but rather willingly offered her services to the king. She had formidable talent with a bow, and nimble fingers that could snipe a darkspawn from a hundred paces. She knew her talents would be a welcome addition to the militia, and was looking forward to the prospect of exercising skills that had been dormant for quite some time. Her life hitherto had been dedicated to taking care of her ailing mother, and filling the role of her missing father. While she loved both her mother and each of her four younger siblings with the whole of her heart, she was not interested in spending the rest of her days as a caretaker. Sloane craved adventure, and could think of no better way to achieve it than by joining the army.

Had Sloane realized then what she knew now, perhaps she would not have defected.

She wasn’t a woman who got cold feet. She had been taught well by her mother, and always saw through her commitments to the very end. However, she was also crafty and sly, mysterious and sultry, and did not belong in an order where she could be none of these things. She felt out of place among all these sweaty, malodorous men, and other women in the encampment were few and far between. She had only made contact with them briefly during their equipment preparations, and they were far less interested in her than the dead Genlock that one of the officers had presented them with.

There was nothing particularly fascinating about darkspawn, she thought; they were all vicious and dumb, and while a drop of their blood could reduce even the most mighty of men to blubbering infants, they were not too formidable a foe if you knew to keep your distance. She seemed to be one of the few who shared this outlook, however, and when she thought to speak her mind, was usually met with nonplussed faces and winded lectures.

Sloane lasted barely a fortnight.

It was the night before the battle when she came to execute her plan; she waited patiently for all her fellow soldiers to fall into a listless sleep before she tucked her belongings into her satchel, pulled on her thick boots and crept out of her tent. The camp itself was virtually desolate at this hour, and she smiled gleefully as she made for the exit.

“What are you doing?” One of the officers keeping watch of the encampment snapped at her as she passed him. The unexpected liaison caught her by surprise, but she kept her head and calmly presented him with an empty canteen.

“I’m going to fetch some water,” she said cheerfully. The officer inspected her with disinterest, then, once satisfied, nodded his head and returned to his previous engagement, which seemed to be a rousing game of ‘count the puddles of vomit in the latrine.’

Surprised, but pleased, by how easy it was to fool the guard, Sloane wasted no time in making work of the rest of the camp. The tranquil mage who had been keeping watch . She sneaked across the bridge, dodging the attention of the men servicing the ballista. She kept in the shadow of the trees, and (???)

It was outside of Denerim, two weeks after she had deserted the army, that Sloane met Liathari.

(I found this story half-written in an old hard drive so like... bear with me while I fill in the blanks
literally. apparently I was incapable of finishing sentences)

Art by sien; profile by finch.
Dragon Age IP belongs to Bioware.

Pet Treasure


Locked Box Of Lovesakes

Scavenged Bow and Quiver

Melody Flute

Ice Bow

Heave Ho: The Broken Heart

Fireside Bow

Crow Spearhead

Triple Arrow

Siren Stein

Siren Harp

Red Survival Note Rose

Red Chocolate Heart

Triple Arrow

Fireside Bow

Pan Pipes

Shinwas Rose

Tattered Old Book

Book of Golden Suns

Ledger

Diamond Encrusted Bow

Plum Blossom Bow

Enchanted Elven Bow

Azathoth Curled Bow

Handful of Ivory Rose Petals

Handful of Red Rose Petals

Black Ribbon Tied Rose

Rose

Stories of Old

Faded Tome

Coin of the Tiger

Stolen Aztec Coin

Quiver of Flaming Arrows

Gold Tiered Pearl Necklace

Life Arrowhead

Death Arrowhead

Pet Friends