[hider= Ovra Paerat][center][img]https://pre12.deviantart.net/ba38/th/pre/f/2015/320/3/f/poe___the_dwarven_watcher_by_aimo-d9gyyid.jpg[/img] [url=https://aimo.deviantart.com]Art by Irma Suriani Ahmed[/url] [h3][u] Ovra Paerat [/u][/h3][/center] [center][sup][sup][h3]Female | 33 | Dwarf[/h3][/sup][/sup][/center] [h3][color=#FF0000]B[/color][color=#FF1C1C]a[/color][color=#FF3838]s[/color][color=#FF5555]i[/color][color=#FF7171]c[/color] [color=#FF8D8D]I[/color][color=#FFAAAA]n[/color][color=#FFC6C6]f[/color][color=#FFE2E2]o[/color][/h3][sup][sup][sup][hr][/sup][/sup][/sup] [b][U]Birthplace [/u][/b] [indent]Montsimmard, Orlais[/indent] [b][u]Appearance [/u][/b] [indent]Short and fierce there is no doubt of Ovra's dwarven blood. Moving with surprising speed and refined dexterity, all supported by a muscular if not compact frame given her stature. Her skin is cast in tan hues, strange given the pallor of most of her kind, resultant from the life of traveler. It is not a pristine canvas though marked with scar tissue accumulated over the years. It all results in a sort of admirable stoic beauty akin to that of the mythic siren, beautiful and alluring to behold but probably best to keep your distance. A task that is harder said than done, given the constant welcoming grin the woman carries upon her face, though it is unsure if she is welcoming in you, or the ever constant specter of death that she enjoys teasing. Her red hair is kept relatively short, its choppy texture contrasting with the two braids she wears which are adorned with heavy metal rings that are emblazoned with dwarven script. They fall to either side of her eyes, two small orbs of green, that seem to be hiding something behind their ever present glimmer. Her clothing choices are muted in their coloring nothing to really draw the eye. [/indent] [b][u]Background [/u][/b] [indent]The daughter of a well-regarded Blacksmith in Montsimmard. Her mother dying of consumption when she was young. She had a solid roof over head, her dad was a good man, and she didn't have to worry about where her next meal was going to come from. What was absent in trouble was instead replaced with [i]tales[/i]. Her father, Ulin fancied himself something of a storyteller and young Ovra was of course, his most attentive audience member. Her favorite stories was that of her ancestor Tovka. Tovka, was a skilled smith, but her true passion came in smiting foes; both these skillsets would find use in the Fourth Blight in her role as one of the Stone's Bastards recruited by the Grey Warden Garahel. As Ulin told it, it was an epic tale of love and betrayal, glory and honor in such a way that would of made even the old Paragons proud. In the Tovka would die fighting off hordes of Darkspawn, to let Garahel escape and eventually slay the Archdemon. Her axe was all that was recovered, which still hung above the Paerat Smithy as a reminder of what they always starve to emmulate. Heart filled with such tales Ovra always sought out adventure. Rather spending her time exploring the streets and rooftops of Montsimmard than learning the ways of the smithy. Ovra's adventures would lead her into making acquaintances with some local troublemakers. Metaphorically and literally looked down on her for being a Dwarf, this pushed Ovra to keep on taking more and more dangerous dares to prove herself. Smear cow dung on the Guard Captain's bed, pick pocket the crotchety old merchant, things of that nature. After a while though they ran out of dares to give the girl, so she started to make up her own challenges to keep herself entertained. It would be one these "challenges' that would change her life. She had deiced to pick the pocket of a well off noble man that had been frequenting the market the past week. The older gentlemen who despite his fine wears, always traveled alone caught the eyes of Ovra as the perfect mark. This man was in fact Duke Yvain de Leclerc, a seasoned bardmaster. It is to go without saying that Leclerc was able to catch Ovra in the act. But still the young girls aptitude was admirable, and Dwarven entertainers were an exotic sight in Orlais, and if the nobles loved anything it was rare sights to behold. Leclerc with schemes already forming in his head would offer to train the girl in the ways of the Bard. And so in a week's time when Yvain was to head back to Val Royeaux, Ovra accompanied him. To his credit Ulin was as accepting as a parent could in the situation. As he knew in his heart that his young daughter would never be satisfied stuck in the confines of Montsimmard, for adventure was rooted in their blood after all. And so Ulin gifted his daughter with Tovka's axe so that her family would always be at her side. The next three years would be breaking down the girl she used to be and replacing it with the bard that she was to become. She was pushed physically to her limit, her sparring lessons beginning from day one with a sharpened blade, every cut and gash its own little lesson. She was to learn everything: poisons, history, architecture, musicianship, and even dining etiquette. For bard were not just spies and assassins, they were true masters of the Game itself. Yet maybe most importantly she was taught the most essential skill in a bard's repertoire, [i]control[/i]. To repress and dictate her own feelings and thoughts, to not give away anything, to put up as mask as needed to conceal the truth. And in the winter of her third year, she was deemed ready. The life evidently wasn't meant to last. At the age of twenty two, Yvain was poisoned by one of his rivals, perishing shortly after. At this moment in time, Ovra could of done the sensible thing and picked up where Yvain had left off. She did after all have access to all his contacts, and allies. But for reasons unknown, Ovra slipped away into the night shortly after the funeral. Maybe it was simple wanderlust, but whatever it was Ovra was on the road again. She would go wherever the winds would take her, playing at roadside taverns to earn a meal and bed for the night, and occasionally supplementing her income with her... other skills Her travels would eventually take her to Hasmal. Her she would sign on to a job protecting a Merchant headed towards Starkhaven, since she was going that way anyway. The forming of the Breakers wasn't her idea, but she didn't oppose it either. She is something of a coordinator for the group these days, using her old contacts and skills to find them work. [/indent] [b][u]Personality [/u][/b] [indent]Ovra's a difficult one to read, bard training does that of course. She projects this charismatic aura of sheer confidence about her, like nothing could ever go wrong as long as the dwarf's still standing. The jokes and witty remarks roll off her tongue with ease. And she's something of a shameless tease using her femininity and all its assets in matters of persuasion. In a way it all seems [i]effortless[/i]. And truthfully it is. It's also all just another one of her lies, a mask like any other. There are signs of it of course the fact that in the ten years that some of her companions have known her, they know little about her past beside that she was born in Orlais. And how she can threaten a child at knife point and seemingly not feel bad about it. And yet even the aloof bardic demeanor is still a sort of mask. As below the surface are bubbling insecurities and regrets, kept ever in check through her training, but always present. The same insecurities that made her flee Orlais, and the same ones that wonder if she was ever a good person to begin with. [/indent] [H3][color=#FF0000]C[/color][color=#FF1111]u[/color][color=#FF2222]r[/color][color=#FF3333]r[/color][color=#FF4444]i[/color][color=#FF5555]c[/color][color=#FF6666]u[/color][color=#FF7777]l[/color][color=#FF8888]u[/color][color=#FF9999]m[/color] [color=#FFAAAA]V[/color][color=#FFBBBB]i[/color][color=#FFCCCC]t[/color][color=#FFDDDD]a[/color][color=#FFEEEE]e[/color][/H3][sup][sup][sup][hr][/sup][/sup][/sup] [b][u]Years served [/u][/b] [indent]10[/indent] [b][u]Profession [/u][/b] [indent][b]Rogue[/b] | [i]Bard[/i][/indent] [b][u]Modius Operandi [/u][/b] [indent]Ovra is very particular about [i]making sure[/i] people are dead. So she prefers to keep up close and personal, with her hand axe and dagger. [/indent] [b][u]Skills [/u][/b] [indent] - [b]Move in Shadow:[/b] Ovra is an expert upon the honored past time of [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTQYEkIvN2M]how not to be seen.[/url] - [b]Bardic Lore:[/b] Jack of all trades, master of none. As a Bard you learn a little bit of everything. Small reference pools are for amateurs - [b]Skulduggery:[/b] Poisons, Lockpicking, pickpocketing, eavesdropping. The Game frowns upon those who don't fight dirty. - [b]Balladeer[/b]: Ovra knows how to hold a tune obviously. - [b]She Knows a Guy[/b]: A deep web of contacts scattered throughout Thedas provide Ovra with some well needed insight. [/indent] [b][u]Important Relations: [/u][/b] [indent] [b]Ulin Paerat:[/b] Father, Smith, generally a good man. According to her contacts in Orlais her father is still doing fine. Ovra hasn't talk to him since she left though all those years ago. Worried that he would be [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_O1hM-k3aUY]disappointed[/url] in what she has become. [b]Tovka Paerat:[/b] Ovra's long dead ancestor. Despite her being born roughly over four hundred or so years ago, her shadow still hangs over Ovra as she ever still tries to live up to the example she set so long ago. [b]Laelius Juventius:[/b] Magister of the Imperium, Merchant, Slaver, and a terrible player of Wicked Grace. A prominent member of the particular sphere of the underworld within the northern Free Marches and southern Tevinter. The two met when Ovra was still in Orlais and Laelius was visiting the country on business. They been assoicates ever since. [b]Duchess Amelya de Leclerc:[/b] Yvain's wife and now widower. The bard and duchess are on friendly enough terms still to this day. Though their relationship never really progress beyond one of business as Amelya saw Ovra as just another member of the help. After Yvain's death their relationship warmed if only slightly and they still exchange regular correspondences with one another. [/indent] [b][u]Thoughts: [/u][/b] [indent][i]This space intentionally left blank.[/i][/indent] [h3][color=#FF0000]T[/color][color=#FF1111]o[/color][color=#FF2222]o[/color][color=#FF3333]l[/color][color=#FF4444]s[/color] [color=#FF5555]o[/color][color=#FF6666]f[/color] [color=#FF7777]t[/color][color=#FF8888]h[/color][color=#FF9999]e[/color] [color=#FFAAAA]T[/color][color=#FFBBBB]r[/color][color=#FFCCCC]a[/color][color=#FFDDDD]d[/color][color=#FFEEEE]e[/color][/h3][sup][sup][sup][hr][/sup][/sup][/sup] [b][u]Weapons & Ammunition [/u][/b] [indent] -[b] 1x Handaxe Silverite:[/b] [i]The ancestral weapon of her family given to her by her Father. A treasured companion through rough times.[/i] - [b]1x Dagger Steel[/b] [/indent] [b][u]Spells & Sorcery [/u][/b] [indent]N/A[/indent] [b][u]Clothing & Armor [/u][/b] [indent][b]1x Fitted Leather Armor[/b] [b]1x Worn Traveler's Boots[/b] [b]1x Traveler's Cloak, Dark Brown[/b] [b]2x flax pants, 1x cotton pants[/b] [b]2x cotton shirts, 1x flax shirt [/b][/indent] [b][u]Tools & Things [/u][/b] [indent] [b]1x Fine Antivan Lockpicks[/b] [b]1x Lute[/b] [b]1x Herbalist Kit[/b] [b]1x Needle and Thread[/b][/indent] [b][u]Potions & Poultices [/u][/b] [indent][b]2x Health Potions[/b] [b]2x Rock Armor Tonic[/b] [b]4x Antivan Fire Grenade[/b] [/indent] [b][u]Ingredients & Rations [/u][/b] [indent][b]4x Bundles of Deathroot[/b] [b]2x Vial of Venom[/b] [b]?x Hardtack[/b] [i]Does she conjure up more with some sort of magic? Nobody knows but she certainly has a lot of it.[/i] [b]1x Waterskin[/b][/indent] [b][u]Bags & Pouches [/u][/b] [indent][b]1x Large Sized Traveler's Pack *Dwarf Sized*[/b] [b]1x Potion Belt[/b] [b]1x Herbalist Pouch[/b][/indent] [b][u]Odds & Ends [/u][/b] [indent][b]1x Bundle of Letters[/b][/indent][/hider]