"Oh, are you the new guy? Boss mentioned that a mage just signed on. Funny, I thought you'd be taller."
Farion stared at the woman before him, with her head tilted curiously as if she had just stumbled upon some profoundly intriguing happenstance. She looked like any native Qunari woman: gray-skinned, horned, impossibly tall, and built to tank. Eyes twitching slightly, he averted his eyes to the ground and said nothing.
"You got away before they could make you full Saarebas, didn't you?" She inspected him dubiously, obviously wondering if his silence was due to a lack of tongue. After a moment of further inspection, she nodded in affirmation to herself. "I'm sure you did. You wouldn't be here if you didn't. I mean, of course there's Kost, but he's the exception. We're... not really sure what his deal is, actually."
His eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance, and he nodded mutely his assent. This action caused her to toss her large hands into the air in dismay.
"Oh, come on, now you're just fucking with me," she cried exasperatedly, plopping down onto a nearby rock. Shaking her head, she observed him further. "Actually, no, you're not, I'd probably tear you in two like a wet tissue." She laughed cheerily at his indignant expression, carelessly tossing twigs into the nearest fire. "But I digress, welcome aboard. The name's Adaar. I'll assume you got a name, too?"
The Valo-Kas camp was relatively small, with a sparse number of tents and even fewer fire-pits. To any random passerby, it would appear to be little more than an underwhelming group of adventurers, though the chances of "random passerby" appearing were extremely low. Few travelers aside from the immensely brave and the immensely stupid even dared to venture through the hazardous forests known as the Korcari Wilds. The Valo-Kas mercenaries dabbled in a bit of both categories, a fact that they acknowledged with pride.
"Finding a whore in the slums of Denerim would be harder than finding a job we're willing to finish!" Shokrakar always assured their patrons jovially. "We'll take on anything you've got with a ready grin and a readier sword, so long as you provide the pay. Just don't think we won't skewer you alive if you try 'n skimp us on the coin. These horns aren't just for show, you can be sure of that." She wasn't exaggerating in any case; when presented with a job of navigating the deadly Wilds, Shokrakar accepted without hesitation.
Farion had been only slightly unsure when he joined up with the Valo-Kas. Being both an elf and a mage set him drastically apart from the others, but he might as well have been seven feet tall and horned from the way they treated him.
"Just 'cause you're prettier than any of the ladies on board here, don't think you're getting special treatment," Shokrakar had informed him with a good-natured slap on the back, which nearly sent him flying. "Far as we're concerned, you're just as Vashoth as any of us. Watch our backs, and we'll watch yours. Hope you can knock back a pint, at least, or you're gonna have a rough time when we finish a job."
As for his magical talents, he was not the only mage on the Valo-Kas. Another mage, whom the other mercenaries referred to as 'Kost', belonged to the Valo-Kas, though Farion did not revel in their mystical similarities; indeed, Kost had not spoken a single word to Farion since he joined. But then again, he was uncertain if Kost's silence was due to indifference or inability. The stoic mage's robes were topped off by a very high collar, obscuring the lower half of his face entirely. Whether he was a muted Saarebas that somehow rebelled to become Tal-Vashoth or he simply did not wish to speak was a mystery Farion doubted he would ever find the answer to. He doubted any of the others, perhaps save for Shokrakar, knew. Aside from the obvious lack of communication, Farion saw little similarity between Kost and himself, even with their arcane ties. He focused most of his energy into spirit magic and healing, something any decent and foolhardy mercenary group desperately needed. Kost mastered destructive elements that wreaked havoc on the battlefield, much to the dismay of their enemies.
All the same, Farion was welcome amongst the Valo-Kas, a feeling he had never received within the Qun.
He remembered how scared he had felt, at the age of seven, when his mother brought him to Seheron. She had explained as best as she could that the Qun offered the two of them a clean slate, even if it did mean forcing them apart. After all, Qunari had no parents. She begged him to promise her that he would never speak of the accident in the Alienage back in Denerim that forced them to flee, lest his slate be marred so quickly. He had not at the time realized just how important the keeping of this oath would be; he had not known that just one slip of a magical wisp could lose him not only his freedoms, but literally his voice as well.
Regardless of his ignorance, he hid his talents as best he could; a difficult task, to be sure. Unfortunately, as he aged, his raw power only magnified within him. Upon realizing he could not hide it any longer, he carefully stowed away on an Orlesian merchant boat, posing as a lowly servant. His plan succeeded and he escaped the shackles that would have inevitably bound his hands sooner or later, had he remained.
And suddenly, he found himself alone in the great land of Orlais.
Though he hated to admit it to himself, he was at a complete loss. His childhood was spent in a closed off Alienage, and then it was suddenly sheared with an uncontrollable burst of magic and an accidental casualty. The next ten years were spent as one of the Viddathari, confined to a role in the Qun he never really wanted. And now he was free from those previous lives, free to choose as he pleased. No more closed gates, no more confinement!
And yet, all he really knew was the Qun.
He might not have agreed with what it taught, but it still filled the majority of his head. And as he was now painfully aware of his new status of Tal-Vashoth, he felt compelled to flock to others of his kind. A bit of asking around seedy taverns and outposts led him straight to what he sought. His decided fate came in the form of the Valo-Kas. Perhaps this destiny was not what he expected as a lad, gazing lazily through the leaves of the great tree in the Alienage. But looking back on it, he would not choose any other life.
"The name's Adaar. I'll assume you got a name, too?"
"Farion." The look of delight his simple answer received from the woman made his mouth twist; in amusement or annoyance, he wasn't quite sure. "Or at least, that's what I was called before I was brought to Seheron."
"So you can speak. Excellent. We already have one wordless mage, and that's plenty. So, tell me about yourself, Farion. We have time while the scouts are poking around the Wilds. The Valo-Kas is a family, albeit a violent, drunken one. Let's be friends, shall we?" She smiled brightly, reaching out a hand easily. After a moment's consideration, he accepted the handshake, inwardly taken aback by the size of her offered hand.
"Do they even make gloves that size?" he muttered to himself in wonderment. His comment earned him a swift knock to the head.
"Wise up, ya smart-ass." Her tone was stern, but her humorous expression betrayed any real anger. She grinned and stood, noticing scouts returning from the forest. "Time to carve a path, hm? After you. Ladies first, of course." Laughing at the mage who could not quite reach her head, she instead received a knock to the shoulder. "Fair enough, Farion."
"Hey, you're gettin' that wistful look again. Forget the past, own the day, remember?"
Farion caught Sera's annoyed glare as he was jarred back into the present. The tavern was quieter than usual, as many of the people who usually inhabited it were gone for Val Firmin with the Inquisitor. He grunted, shaking the tiredness out of his head. "Right, right."
The crude archer pouted at his continued distractedness. "I'll tell you right now, you're being a shite drinking buddy. After all I've taught you on how to not be a shite drinking buddy! If you're still caught up on it, why haven't you done anything about it?"
"I can't. Not right now anyway. I will, though. Soon." He stared broodily off into space. Sera rolled her eyes at the display.
"Yeah, yeah. Once that little parade returns from Val Firmin, you're talking to the Inquisitor at once. No excuses!"
Farion couldn't help but laugh slightly, cheered by her thinly veiled concern. "All right, Sera. I'll do it."
"Good, innit?" She shot him a cheeky grin. "Now drink!"