The one who repents, who has faith,

Unshaken by the darkness of the world,

She shall know true peace.

The first thing one would notice about Kaaras Adaar would be race, a simple and tragic fact of the society of Thedas. He was by all accounts a very good specimen of the Qunari, except that he had never known the Qun. His father had been a Saarebas, leashed and chained but complacent until he had failed the tenants of selflessness and restraint, tempted by a gentle touch and pity that went beyond the Qun. His mother; a young Tamassran who didn't regret her decision to show kindness, to show adoration or to leave. She said so until her dying breath, speaking to a sniveling youth full of sadness and magic.

The tale was long and had made a young boy gag childishly when they told it, but his parents had been very clear. They had ended up abandoning their duties against everything the Qun had instilled in them, and had run. Kaaras was a product of their union. A consequence they had borne happily. His father showed him a love of the Maker, who while still not as kind, provided for much more freedom than the Qun. His mother instilled in him a will of fire and preached the importance of a soft voice and big ears to speak only when important and listen at all times. He still grieved their absence at times, even years later.

Kaaras shifted, shaking himself out of reverie as his captain passed, informing him he'd be heading down the mountain to meet with the other men. The large male smiled a bit to himself; the Valo-Kas were his family now, and they were a good strong family. They joked about his appearance often. The bluest eyes one had ever seen shone out of a gnarled face. 'Wasted!' they claimed over drinks, or 'clawed from the face of some boyish noble.' His face was covered with scars that spoke of hardship and violence and despite his best efforts, his resting face was set into an ever present scowl that had earned him the nickname Smiley. To top it off, both of his horns were broken at different lengths, though his mates never joked about that, they knew better.

All in all, he was a figure that seemed to put the fear of Andraste into those that stepped about him as he provided security for those visiting the Conclave. It also seemed there were many who wished to say something about the staff he wore on his back during this job… Unsurprising, given the reason these two groups were meeting, but the humans didn't have the gall to even make a whisper about him; if he had to guess, it was from fear, and he would have guessed correctly. It was satisfying though, to see the mages want something more, though he didn't always agree with the way he went about it. He'd been living as an apostate for years though, what did he know of the circle? No, he was neutral in his opinion of the current state of Thedas. His concern was the safety of those who came to the conclave, not their twisted politics.

He stood guarding the meeting rooms of the conclave, empty save for the Divine for a while now; when he heard an explosion and a cry for help. No one had come past him, what could be happening? He pulled the staff from his back and with a roar he pushed through the doors, running forward to protect his divine, "What's going on in here?!"

Kaaras remembers little else, only a sickly green sky and horrible creatures chasing him. The stuff of nightmares and tales told around a fire to shake you for the long watch. He stumbled forward and then up, cutting his large hands on sharp rocks as he scrambled higher, a light beckoning him. He saw the light take shape, a woman? The overlarge man stumbled towards it, death and fear on his heels and then he feels warmth and safety for a brief moment before he is spit out into ash and destruction and then, he knew no more.


A/N: Just in case it matters, which I'm sure it does, since I've written no stories about origins or 2, the general shape of things was a noble dwarf warden who tried as much as she could to be a protector for her lover, Leliana and show her the good in the world despite all the betrayal they both felt from the people who were supposed to care about them. Alistair did the do with Morrigan and was happy not to be placed on the throne and be a good Grey Warden. Marian Hawke was an absolute babe mage who deserved nothing terrible but still got all the terrible things to happen to her. She tried her best always to be fair and kind though she rarely received kindness in return and took the punishment for her perceived failures. The innocence of Merrill soothed her, made her feel worthy and happy for a breif moment, until the violence erupted and the rage that people had questioned if Marian even had showed itself. She had had enough and wielding a sword awkwardly, she screamed and cursed Ander's name as she lopped his damn head off. She wanted freedom for the mages, but never the way he did. I might do short tales from those from time to time, but this is the story I always wanted to focus on. Welcome aboard guys. I hope you enjoy.