Information

Mahariel has a minion!

the Baby Reindeer

Mahariel
Legacy Name: Mahariel

The

Glade Telenine
Owner: azkaban

Age: 14 years, 9 months, 2 weeks

Born: June 3rd, 2011

Adopted: 14 years, 9 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: June 3rd, 2011

Statistics

Level: 1
Strength: 10
Defense: 10
Speed: 16
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 0
Books Read: 0
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Unemployed

* spoilers for dragon age: origins below

vir sulahn'nehn.

you don't remember your parents.

your father was dead before you were born, and your mother died shortly after your birth. an orphan, but you weren't alone or unloved - you were raised by another, your parents dear friend. but that isn't all - you are raised by the entire clan.

you are a dalish elf. your people are ancient but now they are scattered to the wind, merely a shadow of their former glory. the population has splintered into nomad clans, who drift along the wilds of ferelden but never truly settling, never truly putting down roots. you fear the humans - the shems - who stole your homeland, your history from your people in the first place.

tamlen is your best friend. even from a young age the two of you bonded, stuck close together. the elders cooed and tittered, looking at the two of you with knowing looks as time passes and your bond only grows stronger. he is your home in a way the clan could never be, your lethallin. the two of you are unstoppable, inseparable - you hunt together, track through the forest with ease. you spend your childhood with tamlen at your back, the whole forest at your fingertips.

you earn your vallaslin before anyone else your age, even before tamlen. it burns your skin and your nails pierce your palms hard enough to well blood, but you sit through the entire thing. you enter the keeper's tent a bare-faced child, and leave an adult. later, you spend hours at the lake, staring at your own reflection - attempting to see yourself through the marks of falon'din - friend of the dead, the guide. you think you've chosen right, but later - when everything falls apart - you're unsure.

vir dirthera.
tamlen is not dead. even after the ruins, after the mirror, tamlen is not dead. you would know if he was, right? you would feel different - like a piece of you was missing. it's a foolish hope but you cling to it nonetheless, following the grey warden away from your clan and into the shem world. you are do not want to be a grey warden. you would have rather died with your clan, corruption running thick through your veins. at least you would have died at home, with your people, instead of being surrounded by strangers, by shems.

but it was not your choice to make.

falon'din, surely, knew what was at stake for you. he guides you on your journey, which starts in ostagar, where the battle is immediately lost by politics of all things. you'll never understand these shems, even the wild woman that recuses you from the tower. she and the other grey warden - the simpering, snarky one - are your companions against the end of the world, a weight heavy on your shoulders. they are not the companions you would wish for. in the middle of the night, when it's your turn to take watch, you whistle into the dark - one low note, followed by a high note. i'm lost, it says, to the one person who would understand its meaning. find me. but tamlen doesn't (cannot?) find you.

when the morning sun rises, it's just you, the shems, and the impossible task you share.

stopping the blight is hard. the treaties are one thing - the nightmares are another. it reminds you of the mirror, the whisperings of darkness that you recall hearing in those ruins. you hate it, hate the way it clouds your mind and disrupts your sleep. in the beginning you are moody and sullen, sticking to yourself and talking very little. but as the weeks tick by, and your party grows and grows, you find yourself becoming less wary of them, more welcoming. the grey warden tells you jokes, the woman from the wilds shares (some) of her secrets, the mage offers her wisdom freely, the dwarf shares his ale, the bard sings a song for you that you haven't heard since you were a da'len, and the assassin.... well. he shares your bed, sometimes, and much later he gives you an earring.

they are your clan now - it is a ragtag group, but they are yours.

vir samahl la numin.

it's been months since you left your clan. the archdemon grows ever closer, and your party is on edge, preparing for the final battle that is surely to come. one night, when you are just settling down to sleep, you hear the whistle you've long since stopped listening for. one low note followed by one high note. your heart sinks in your chest as you hear the sound of metal scraping, of shouting in the campsite - you cannot exit your tent fast enough.

but what waits for you outside makes you wish you'd never bothered.

it is him. his features have shifted and morphed, darkened by the corruption - but his eyes are the same, piercing blue as he begs you to kill him. always loved you, he says, i'm so sorry as he throws himself onto your blade. your sobs echo in the forest, drowning out your companions small, nervous words of sympathy.

that night, you do not sleep.

you dig a grave for him. wynne offers help, alistair hovers. zevran watches from afar with a knowing look while leliana is the one who gently pulls you from your task, sings a burial song for him. it is haunting in the early morning light; a proper dirge. carefully, oh so carefully, you lay a seed upon his grave - from his death, life shall grow. a tree will stand here in a few years and one day you'll come back and rest underneath it.

vir lath sa'vunin.

the archdemon is everything you'd imagined it would be. it tears the capital apart, bringing hell and darkspawn with it. when the time comes you plunge your sword into its neck and pray that this will undo some of the damage the blight has caused. it dies, fantastically and impossibly, the soul going elsewhere (searching out the wild woman, who had already left some time ago). your clan stands victorious, exhausted.

you are the hero of ferelden, and you have done the impossible.

(and later, much later, when magic tears the sky open, you grab your assassin and you nope it the fuck out of there.)