Status Alive
Race Human
Age 30, give or take a few years
Birth Date
Gender Male
Sexual Orientation Doesn't even care.
Hometown Rivain
Residence Antiva City, Antiva
Affiliation Antivan Crows
Occupation Assassin
Class Rogue
Specialization Assassin
Gear Fine, studded leather of Antivan make. Smells nice. Very thick. Two Crow daggers and a whole host of poisons.
Behind the Mask
Player Fanny
Face Claim N/A
Profile Link Here

Antiva is a shithole. Anyone who thinks otherwise either has their head in the clouds or is Zevran Arainai.

Still, my time there wasn't all bad. There was booze, there were girls (and boys, whatever) and there were always plenty of necks to be snapped. So, understandably, I was a little... upset when I had to go trudging all the way to Ferelden to drag Zevran home by his pointy ears before the Crows decided to lop them off. However bad Antiva was, Ferelden was ten times worse, and I was eager to get there and back.

But I knew it wasn't going to be that easy. Whatever Zev had said, that mess with Rinna had shaken him up, and it was going to take a lot of drink and a lot of sex to get him compliant again. Problem was, The Crows were already wising up to Zevran's disappearance: if he wasn't dead yet, he was going to be very soon, so I had to light a fire under it to get to him before they did.

Lucky me, they agreed to allow me to lead the Crow cell to chase him down.

Aaaaand it turned out he was in a lot less danger than I had thought, and we got in a bit of a tussle. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want Zevran dead. The opposite, in fact; I offered to have him come with me. I even offered to risk my skin and lie to the Crows, and how many people can say they've got the balls to do that? Not many, let me tell you.

It stung a little, to point my blade at Zev of all people. I can't tell you how many days we spent huddled in a dirty shack by that cesspool in the tanning district as brats. Probably because most of those memories are repressed.

Ah, balls.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, the stabbing-your-best-friend thing. In the end, it was either Zevran or me, and I pictured it this way: I can't be Zev's best friend if I'm dead, now can I?

So the Crows and I attacked-- and we attacked hard and good and proud-- and we were soundly made to kiss Denerim's filthy streets. We dropped like flies. It just wasn't fair.

I was ran right through by that elf Warden and left to bleed on the steps. Needless to say, I was a bit... upset.

Not as upset, I imagine, as the Crows were gonna be. I'd just repeated Zevran's mistake, and I hadn't payed for it with my life! How very unprofessional of me. A thought occurred to me then that I was completely and utterly on my own and, nice as it felt, it made me a sitting duck. Balls. Now what?

After resting up a bit and, following the Blight, I followed Zevran's trail. I wasn't going to follow him back to Antiva, but eventually, he led me to Kirkwall... where I have every intention of giving him a piece of my mind for that stunt he pulled.



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