Fugitive of her own guilt
|Hometown||Kassel, the Anderfels|
|Residence||The Darling Dancer - Hightown|
|Behind the Mask|
|Face Claim||Valeria Mazza|
Margaretha is a slender woman, about 5'7", and of average asset. Her fingers are long and thin, but not boney -- the hands of an artist. On her left side, midway between her shoulder and neck is a slender white scar, that is easily covered by her armor. Otherwise her complexion is smooth, her skin a light tan color. Her hair is very long, auburn in color, and ends just past her hips. Only the strands that would hang in front of her face are tied at the back of her head into a gentle bun. Her face is oval-shaped, jaw more pointed than square, her cheekbones high and not very prominent. Her upper lip is on the thin side, her lower lip slightly plumped, and are of a dark pink color. Her nose is on the small side, with a thin, straight bridge and a button-like tip. Her eyebrows are thin and slightly arched; however, her eyes are perhaps the most striking feature on her face. Slightly angled, and gold in color, they often wander with careful curiosity. As a wiser man than I once said, eyes are a window to the soul -- as much is true in Margaretha's case.
Her only possessions from her past -- Finely made, knee-high red leather boots, green leggings stuffed with fine white lace, covered by an intricate leather chestpiece. Beneath the light armor is a white tunic that is lightly ruffled at the bottom. The leather is embossed with an intricate, meticulous, custom design, made for her at her birth. Her gloves are made of the same fine leather as her boots, and the color of the hide appears embroidered in the collar of the white tunic as well as the trim. The same red is also found on the inside of her moss green -- the same green found on her leggings and sleeves -- hooded cloak she wears. Her bow is a fine, dark, heartwood, slightly curved at the end. The grip is a dark green, and small designs of the same color are etched into the face.
Margaretha is a mentally fractured person. Her guilt plagues her behind a very carefully held layer of kindness. That does not mean, however, that her kindness is ingenuine. Rather, she is kind because she feels that in time that attitude will be reflected back onto her. She is a very, very devout Andrastian, and attends Chantry services whenever it is physically possible. Her devotion is rooted back to her childhood -- the Anders people are all pious Andrastians, who pray to the Maker to release them from the Blight. This level of faith, however, was shoved further and further up on her priorities list, and has become a major part of her life. Her work as a mercenary is simply for survival. She feels no joy in killing for coin; no pleasure in ending a man's life. In fact, one will always find that, after an assignment, she spends nearly whole days in the Chantry halls, asking forgiveness for past and present sins.
The only thing that Margaretha will never, ever speak of, is her past. Any mention, and question, and she will refuse to speak, or carelessly change the subject. Because of this her past has remained hidden from aquaintances, and all people know of her is that she was not born in Kirkwall. This has led to her feelings of isolation, loneliness, and buried contempt. She finds it sad that no one truly wants to know her as she is, and that almost all must ask about her past and, when refused, seem to lose interest entirely. She has kept her chin up, in hopes that perhaps a chance meeting can turn into friendship -- she is willing to lend a hand when needed, but will not delve into another person's personal matters unless explicitly given permission to do so from said person. Margaretha is a woman who prizes her own privacy, and respects the privacy of others.
Margaretha Cindley was born 12 Harvestmere, 9:10 Dragon, in the town of Kassel, located in the stark steppes of the Anderfels. Although the nation is poor, Margaretha's family had always been better off. Being the first surface land to face the Blight and the home to Weisshaupt, there were many Grey Wardens, thousands even. Those of seniority were given more fertile lands. Her father had been one of these lucky men and women. Growing up, Margaretha's father had regaled her with tales of delving into the Deep Roads in hopes of finding the root of the Darkspawn and snuffing them out. These tales fascinated the young girl, and inspired her to lift her first bow. Like her mother before her, Margaretha's affinity with the land around her, barren as it may seem to others, allowed her to learn quickly, using the gales and stock of light to train in the harshest of conditions, and thus, in the future, nothing would seem as difficult to her, while others may find the terrain challenging because of what they had conditioned themselves to.
As the eldest of three children, she did her best to care for her mother, a skilled archer in her own right who had set down her bow to commit herself completely to family, and siblings while her father journeyed for the Wardens. Her brothers were ten years younger than she, idenical twins at that, and that alone made it nigh impossible for Margaretha to bond with them. Her mother had always been a caring woman, who doted on her only daughter like only a mother could. She always encouraged her interest in archery and was there when things began to turn bleak. Her brother, however, was not so kind. Margaretha's Uncle had always been a freeloader who hid away in their home. He would try to bully his niece, degrade her, tell her that no woman could ever wield a bow in the same way a man could. Foul as he was, the young archeress was powerless to respond, and, our of love for her brother, Margaretha's mother could not bring herself to turn him away. Margaretha's brothers were thankfully more like their father -- they fought as siblings often do, but, not to the extent of abuse.
On 6 Firstfall, 9:29 Dragon, 19-year-old Margaretha woke in the middle of the night to a male scream, that sounded eerily of her father. She wandered down the hall and pressed her ear to her parents' chamber door, and after only a moment, overheard a gruesome truth. Her father's nightmares were getting progressively worse, after only a week's reprieve of work. Her mother knew something Margaretha didn't, because she began to cry and plead with him about something. The nearly adult woman did her best to determine what, but the words were far too muffled by the door. The next day, her father had gone from their home, leaving his family only a letter of explanation. It was in that letter Margaretha lost all that she knew. Her father had to leave them, although only the Maker could know why. Desperate, Margaretha tried to find him, but, could not track him past the Anderfels border.
With their father gone, they risked losing their land. Out of desperation, Margaretha's mother traveled to Weisshaupt to undertake the Joining -- it was the only chance she had at keeping their home. However, she only managed to orphan her children, and leave them in the perfectly incapable hands of her insufferable brother. He, having grown used to the cushy life of a Warden-Bann and being too much of a coward himself, sent word to the Wardens that Margaretha herself would take the Joining, and even went through the trouble of signing her name for her.
The young woman had spiraled down since the loss of the both of her parents, had turned even more diligently to practicing with her bow, and attended Chantry services nearly every day. When word arrived that she was to be escorted to the Warden Command Centre, she barely mustered herself to confront her verminous uncle. He struck her, several times, with the fire poker, and told her she had no other choice but to obey. Even though she craved to end him, to take her bow and show him just how well a woman could loose an arrow, her scattered state of mind and mourning soul chose instead to flee her home in the dead of night, nursing a laceration halfway between her left shoulder and her neck, and clutching her mother's prized bow in her hand.
Although unfunded and barely able to protect herself, the young rogue trekked all the way into Orlais -- by the time she reached Jader, the tragedy at Ostagar had occurred and the border to Ferelden sealed. She craved to move on, wished to continue to flee from her birthplace, from her uncle, and her memories, only to be trapped in a land she knew only as the home of the White Divine. She continued making visits to the Jader Chantry, and over the year, practically lived there. Perhaps it was guilt finally catching up to her. The demon of regret coiled in her gut. She should not have left her brothers, she should have taken them with her. The white-hot scar that had formed where her uncle had struck her burned with every thought of the Anderfels. Her brothers were in that monster's hands, now, because she had not been strong enough to take them with her, and, her mind shattered by this poisonous guilt, she could not bring herself to return.
When the Blight ended, Margaretha travelled to the Coastlands, and took ship to Kirkwall. Paranoia had gripped her at the thought of returning. She thought perhaps that her uncle had gained power, had men looking for her, or perhaps even the Wardens, looking to collect on their promised recruit. Her arrival in the city of chains was timely -- the guards had finally lifted the barricades, so to speak. Enough Fereldens had either died or filtered out of the city after the Blight had ended, in hopes of returning to their own home and starting anew. The though wrenched Margaretha's heart and she immediately trekked to the Chantry, hoping the words of the Maker's wisdom could at least numb the pain.