[b]Name:[/b] Count Harrow van Hinterfel 
[b]Race:[/b] Elf
[b]Class:[/b] Mage (Death/Blood)
[b]Appearance:[/b] 
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Harrow's appearance is striking in contrasts, wearing dark clothes and having black hair but extremely pale skin. In many ways he looks the stereotypical Mortalitasi - death mage - and you would not be surprised to learn of his profession. Unusually for an elf, he has a finely groomed beard, though he has not really groomed himself in a way to hide his elven birth. He certainly does not hide his ears.
[b]Personality:[/b] Harrow is an educated man and a powerful one, and he is unlikely to ever forget that. But he is even less likely to forget the crushing poverty he was elevated from thanks to his rare talents and the fortune of being at the right place at the right time. Thus he might be pompous and stuffy, but he's far from a stupid arrogant noble. But he is ambitious, willing to do whatever it takes to keep himself out of the gutter he came from. He is well-spoken and articulate, though not the sort who you invite to dinner parties if you can't avoid it. He makes a point of knowing as much as he can about as many people as he can, a deadly skill in politics. 
[b]Backstory:[/b] It is not often that one climbs social ranks within the stolid, static monarchy of Nevarra but it does sometimes happen. Harrow was born in Hunter Fell, a historic town most notable for being where the Third Blight ended. He was a city elf, born dirt poor and with no prospects - until he began to hear the voices. One at first, a whisper near the Memorial. Then two. Soon it was an army, all shouting in his head. Young Harrow was not happy, barely able to sleep for hearing ghosts begging for a chance at life. His parents barely had the coin to feed themselves, never mind find a doctor for their screaming child. Soon he began to hear the voice behind all those other voices, the largest voice ever booming deep in the rock in an inhuman tone. 

Then the Circle found him. He was a mage. This was a relief, if nothing else to be taken from his home and the whispers of the dead. Now, had he simply been another fireball-tossing mage, perhaps Harrow's life would have never reached such dizzying heights and he would be a fat, happy academic in a tower somewhere. But this is Nevarra, where the dead are as important as the living and Harrow could hear them speak. He was destined for the Mortalitasi, the death-mages who formed a huge part of Nevarran political and religious life. Harrow learned, worked hard, prospered. He learned to shut the voices out, to hear them only when he wanted, to shape the dead and bind them to his will. More importantly, he filtered the dead so that he could hear what they said and learned from them directly, inheriting old and forgotten knowledge. This, he used to begin to climb the ladder, to win patronage and impress those above him. How well he did academically was perhaps less important than how much blackmail material he gathered by communing with the dead. 

And, though he would never whisper this to another soul, he learned forbidden arts from that loud, ancient voice that echoed in Hunter Fell. 

Through his status and his secrets, Harrow wound his way to Nevarra City, the capital, and the ear of King Markus Pentaghast. The king was old and failing even during the days of the Inquisition, too feeble and indecisive to properly throw his nation's weight to bear on the conflicts breaking out all over Thedas. But he valued the words of the Mortalitasi and listened to them often. Harrow won Markus' favour by communing with the ancient Pentaghasts to provide Markus with counsel, for which he was rewarded with rank and wealth. A title and a keep that came with it, a keep that overlooked the tumbledown shack in which he had been born. He had left Hunter Fell a sickly, weeping child and returned to it a wealthy noble, ripe with power. Of course, it would be awful (and treasonous) to suggest that he had anything to do with the sickening of the last van Hinterfel, the ancestral rulers of the area, but out of respect he adopted the name - he never had a family name of his own up until then. 

Harrow has not rested easy at Demonfall, the keep of the van Hinterfels, but has been working to secure his station there before he makes his next step up the ladder. To do that, as not just a Mortalitasi but a nobleman, he must find himself allies, coin - and a wife. To that end he has begun opening up communication with other nations, traveled widely and plays host to many strange and varied folks. All the while listening to the voices in the deep..
Skills: [list]
[*]Paralyze - Saps energy from a target, preventing them from moving
[*]Death Magic - Draws on the local dead, healing damage and growing stronger based on how many dead are nearby.
[*]Drain Life - Steals life-force from a target to heal himself.
[*]Blood Magic - Use health to fuel spells instead of mana
[*]Animate Dead - Raise skeletons or zombies to fight for him
[/list]