Information
the Baby Reindeer
Mahariel
Legacy Name: Mahariel
The Glade Telenine
Owner: azkaban
Age: 12 years, 10 months, 4 weeks
Born: June 3rd, 2011
Adopted: 12 years, 10 months, 4 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
you don't remember your parents. 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. 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. 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.) |
Pet Treasure
Forest Spirit Leaf
Peridot Parrot Feathers
Rugged Patchwork Camping Tent
Garden Frog
Dragon of Autumn Collar
Autumnal Acorn
Willow Twig
Sticky Little Daisies
Yellow Right Shoulder Poinsettia Vine
Blue Gathered Leaf Ornament
Mandrake Root
Scattered Yellow and Orange Blooms
Wormwood
Scattered Pink Lilies
Whole Sage Leaves
Scattered Bluebells
Lant Fruit
Red Survival Note Rose
Henbane
Moss
Fresh Mistletoe
Delicate Sprigs
Scattered White Daisies
Frosted Stag Figurine
Hoppster
Fireflies in a Jar
Cave Moss
Natural Lily Pad
Moss Covered Rock
Dusted Fallen Leaf Cider
Elven Soup
Elven Sunrise Dew
Forest Perch Beanbag
Mister Treeant
Root Forest Sample
Fairy House
Delightful Muse
Tree Plushie
Peka Glade Willow Figurine
Magical Orange Tree
Garden Dirt
El Wood
Upturned Dirt Pile
Book of Nature
New Growth
How to Plant a Tree Kit
Moth-Eaten Book of Moths
Spring Around Subeta
Vine Body Stencils and Paint
Hazard Map
Bundle of Old Maps
Dissolver Scroll
Gryphon Watching Manual
Bark Bound Book
Bed Roll
Tribal Fisher Body Paint
Gilded Drinking Flask
Montre Poncho Pouch
Rreign Tamer Pelt Shawl
Tiger Talisman
Single Copper Coin Earring
Thriving Leaf Necklace
Shaman Herb Satchel
Grassland Bunting Necklace
Rreign Tamer Burnished Armguard
Harvester Embellished Cloak
Rreign Tamer Chestguard
Rreign Tamer Knotted Belt
Rreign Tamer Leather Hair Tie
Rreign Tamer Firesilk Cape
Domestic Guard Griffin
Rogue Miniature
Death Arrowhead
Dark Ranger Arrow
Triple Arrow
Dark Ranger Quiver
Shinwas Bow
Enchanted Elven Bow