"I like big boats and I cannot lie!"
|Hometown||Rivain, likely in the south, possibly Dairsmuid|
|Residence||Lowtown (the Hanged Man), Kirkwall|
|Gear||Tunic, buckled boots, daggers|
|Behind the Mask|
You know, I don’t understand why some people think it’s all right to spill their guts once their drunk enough not to care. Where’s the fun in that? See, I get drunk to be drunk, not to become bosom-buddies with some greasy, red-faced mongrel such as yourself.
Oh, don’t look at me like that, kitten, there’s nothing wrong with being a mongrel—it’s cute.
Fine, here’s the deal, you buy me another drink, I drink it…then, you buy yourself a drink and I drink that too…then we are game and I will divulge to you the tale of Isabela…it might even be in verse…
No, no, forget the verse, I doubt you’d understand sober and I am only poetic when sex is involved—why the look, were you expecting something?
I was born in Rivain—you do know where that is, yes? I’ll take that perpetual blank stare of yours as a no—you see, Rivain is a much more charming place than Kirkwall, the people, apart from smelling better, are the same. You want to know what’s better about though?
The sea. We were surrounded by it, my home was a little dock city…oh, I can still see the sailors, dusky skin, rippling arms…gorgeous, the men were something too; all scruffy and sun-burnt. Oh, sweetness, are you blushing? Keep your wits about you; I haven’t gotten to the good parts yet.
I loved Rivain; the sea, the tattooed skin, the jewelry…what you might call extravagance, we called necessity. Look at me, darling…no, no, you can stare at my breasts later…now look at that woman over there. She’s a pretty thing, but a bit droll, wouldn't you say? There’s no shame in showing off a bit, in loving wealth and profit.
I bet you’re wondering why I’m here now, aren’t you? Give me another drink, sweetness, then you’ll hear.
Right, I was sold, by my sweet, darling mother to a man for a handful of gold and a goat. Yes, a goat. I was his wife by title, his prize by any other means. Do you know how young I was then? It doesn’t matter, what matters is that I hated that man. I hated his touch, his stench, his lanky hair…he was too old, too ugly. Luckily I wasn’t bound to him for too long, an assassin ended our marriage somewhat…abruptly.
What’s that look for? I didn’t hire him, though I should have. I did thank him, however…perhaps I’ll tell you how later, first I want you to wipe up that drool—eager, are we?
Who was the assassin? Oh, I doubt you’d know him; he’s an Antivan, a beautiful elven Antivan…Zevran, he taught me many tricks, some I imagine you’d kill to see, others…not so much.
My marriage wasn’t a total loss, my husband owned a ship, the Siren’s Call, my poor love suffered at that man’s hands, he was too rough, too coarse—he never knew how to handle a woman. She was mine now though, and under me she blossomed—I promise there was no finer ship in all of Thedas.
Life after that was a beautiful blur. My life was on the sea, she was my only true love and from her I gained excitement, pleasure, and profit. I’m not sure what was better, the pleasure or the profit. Can you imagine the wonders of captaining over a crew of topless, sweaty men? Can’t you just picture that glistening?
From that look you’re giving me, I’d venture a not. Lovey, you really are no fun.
Would you prefer if I described the women? How the sea coaxed them into wildness, how the sun turned their skin to gold, how the air coated their lips in salt…I see that is the sort of story you’d like to hear, I imagine there’s a sailor or two in here willing to tell, I, however, do not care to give you the satisfaction.
So what had I become? Call me what you may: thief, criminal, pirate…I was free, and freedom was the sweetest drink I had ever tasted. I sailed anywhere in Thedas I cared to see, I learned as I went…how to fight, how to survive, how to…entice.
Years went by, with each port, each job, each prize…I became more the woman you see now and less the girl traded by her mother for a goat. Never would I allow anyone to presume they had power over me—I was free, totally and without question, and I’d rather die than lose that.
Let’s see…there was sex, drinking, pillaging, blood, guts…what else…
Oh, did I tell you about that time I met the Hero of Ferelden? Oh yes, in a whorehouse of all places, you wouldn’t believe how fit those Warden’s keep themselves, my, my…the time we had.
Well, kitten, I’m hardly drunk enough to tell you why I’m here now, in your charming company here in Kirkwall. I hardly think it’s anything of your…oh, another drink? Well, alright, I’ll tell you a little, but don’t get too greedy.
I was working for a man named Castillon, a powerful crime boss—oh, just for the record, if word of any of what I’ve told you tonight gets out, I will kill you—anyways, he had hired me to smuggle some slaves, Ferelden refugees, but I released them instead of doing what he asked…oh don’t look at me like that, I wasn't acting nobly or anything like that, it just seemed like a good idea at the time.
As punishment Castillon had me track down a relic, no, I don’t know what it was, don’t ask. I got it, naturally, but my ship was snagged by a storm on my way to return the relic and was lost on the reefs outside Kirkwall. There were good men in that crew…all gone, as was the relic.
So now I’m here, stranded without a ship, without a crew, and without the relic…my one ticket to survival…and now I’m telling you, why am I telling you? Look, I’ve had enough of talking…no, no, sit down, believe it or not I do have standards, and you do not meet them—you are paying for the drinks, I assume? Of course you are, good night, kitten.