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Player Info
Player Name: Clamor
Player LJ: macabreclamor
Player Instant Messenger Type and Handle: AIM - witcardsnribbons
Player Email: proeliumhonoris@hotmail.com
Are you 18 years of age or older? Yup.
Character Info
Character Name: Artis Cousland
Character’s Age: 23
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Timeline: Seconds before her death.
GAME HISTORY:
Cousland's first appearance in the town was around Day 23, where she promptly took her phone apart out of curiosity and simply never put it together again. After getting herself wedged in the doorway of her designated house, the Warden met Hope and Travis and eventually extricated herself.
The three of them met again the day afterwards to search for the missing individuals in the forest... or so they had hoped, anyway. In truth, Cousland got her ass handed to her on a silver platter after going toe to toe with Hellpointe's very own cannabalistic freakshow Hehsebamon. After getting trounced, discovering using her powers = bad news, and having her sword all but snapped (Actually bent pretty much back on itself but that's close enough), the posse retreated back to the town where she spent a few days feeling sorry for herself. The sword was eventually repaired by Avari, thankfully enough.
Fast forwarding past the blizzard event and a second run in with Hehsebamon, Cousland left off shortly after saving Travis from a Heaven Smile. As a result she'll still have some injuries if/when she returns, with no memory of having left at all.
Appearance: Cousland's stature reflects the lifestyle she's been living for the past year or so - very solid, with little to no excess fat anywhere on her body. Most of her strength originates from her core and shoulders judging by the amount of toned muscle in that area.
Standing at a rather unimposing five foot four, the Warden's full head of unruly, shoulder-length red hair, smattering of freckles, and green eyes makes her look more like a farmgirl than the youngest child of a noble house. Still, she holds herself in the style of someone who has the knowledge of how to navigate through most situations (Battle or politics, although frankly the two are pretty much the same anyway) although being encased from head to toe in the finest armour and carrying a very pointy bit of metal always helps too.
More often than not she leaves the armour at home in favour of a light leather tunic, leggings, and soft boots instead; the sword and shield, however, are with her at all times.
Underneath her clothes and strung around her neck on a simple chain is the pendant Reflection as well as her Warden's Oath.
History:PREPARE FOR TL;DR.
Born the second child to Teyrn Bryce Cousland (“Teyrn” being the title given to someone at lord status, having lands and possibly a castle at their disposal) and his wife Elanor after her older brother Fergus, Artis was raised in the castle of Highever to be the ideal daughter: subjected to lessons in dance and music, of acting and politics. Or so it started. It was soon discovered that despite her best (?) efforts, Artis’ stubborn refusal to learn frequently wore on the nerves of her tutors, and she regularly broke delicate instruments in childish rages. At some point a more dramatic encounter with a drum and a teacher that pressed perhaps a little too much ended in an interesting dilemma where the drum itself was stuck around the man’s neck and the sticks shoved up his nostr-- ahem. But that’s a story for later. The fact was the young woman had absolutely no talent whatsoever for maidenly things such as the arts, which effectively ended her lessons much to the woe of her Governess. Artis herself couldn’t be more thrilled. Her tutors were often starchy arrogant bastards with these beady little eyes that had this way of glaring like every single flat note in the universe was entirely her fault.
The reason for the musical torture was apparent after a young Prince Cailan came to visit-the boy was far more interested in playing fake war against Fergus, of course, than mooning after some bratty girl who thought all boys had cooties anyway. As far as Artis recalled, the extent of their interaction was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ conversation that ended in Calian quickly losing interest in favour of instead going to see what kind of pointy swords and daggers they had in the Cousland armoury.
At any rate, a suggestion from her older brother sparked a new lifestyle geared towards her natural talent rather than superficial ones she wouldn’t use on a daily basis anyway -- What kind of twit went around playing a lute in the middle of afternoon tea? -- starting at age twelve, Artis was trained with her brother how to wield a wooden sword. Certainly her mother didn’t approve, but her father merely laughed it off in that good-natured fashion he always had, and so the lessons continued. As years passed the tests became more rigorous; metal replaced wood, armour and shields were thrown into the mix. Tactics and mock wars were practiced. How would they repel invaders from the north? How would a siege best be handled if there was a breach in this wall?
Artis’ lessons in acting stood her well during more physical exercises, as Fergus had difficulty reading intentions on an opponent prone to making outrageously inappropriate faces for the ring of battle. One moment she might be looking in a completely different direction, the next he’d have a shield rapping him smartly in the nose. Such were the way things went until after he hit puberty. After that he more often than not managed to overpower her, then sat on his younger sister and mussed her hair despite her squalling and protests-as a result the younger Cousland was forced to come up with ever more clever stratagems to hold her own. The two siblings grew to be capable warriors and strategists in due time. Fergus grew mature enough to act as the Teyrn's right hand in domestic matters while Artis learned how to navigate the political battleground with careful tutoring by her father.
Shortly after her twenty third birthday, word arrived that King Cailan was readying his forces for war alongside the ranks of the fabled Gray Wardens. The Wardens (An order of ancient warriors dedicated to detecting and eliminating something called a “Blight”, a term which meant a surge of twisted monstrosities called Darkspawn threatened to push into occupied Ferelden land) feared the coming of another Blight, and as such Teyrns across the land were required to devote at least a small portion of fighting men and women to drive the Darkspawn back into the Korcari Wilds to the south from whence they came. Fergus was tasked with leading a handful of men to the rendezvous in the ruins of the stronghold Ostagar while his father gathered the rest of the troops and readied them to march at dawn the next day. Artis was naturally furious at being left out of the impending mêlée, exhibiting a temper quite unbecoming for a young lady of her age and station. Arl Howe, a friend of the family, stopped by to check up on the Couslands at the same time a peculiar stranger visited Teyrn Bryce. This stranger was none other than the Grey Warden Commander, Duncan. Despite having the Warden Commander quite clearly voice his interest in recruiting Artis to join the ranks of the Grey Wardens, not to mention her arguments, Bryce Cousland was loathe to lose his daughter to such a fate and expressly told Duncan that no such recruitment would occur.
That night, Highever was besieged.
Artis woke to the screams of the wounded and dying outside her window and the stench of roiling smoke from down below. It was barely enough time to fumble into her practice armour and strap on her shield when the first soldiers burst through her bedroom door, bearing the Arl Howe’s emblem emblazoned on their armour. It was the first real time the youngest Cousland found herself fighting for her life, and in the end the killing sickened her. It would not be the last. The betrayal had been well planned, and the majority of the Highever knights had left earlier in the day with Fergus in the lead. The few that were left were hard pressed to do their duty of defending the noble family and the innocent souls caught in the crossfire.
After partnering up with her mother not too long afterwards, the two ran, skirmished, and slaughtered their way through halls and rooms that seemed to have no end, making gruesome discoveries one after another. Visiting families of other nobles were slaughtered in their sleep-every man, woman, and child regardless of gender or age. Even Fergus’ wife and son found no mercy. A brief side trip to the Cousland Treasury found Artis properly armed with the family heirlooms: a fine, razor-edged sword and sturdy alloy shield notched by battles long past that bore the Highever arms. Both served her well during the desperate last moments it took to push through the chaos to the secret escape tunnel through the larders-where they found a mortally wounded Teyrn Bryce just barely in a conscious state. He told them of Howe’s treachery and urged them to flee the same time Duncan showed up, having cleared the halls of hostile fighters for a time. There was a choice to be made then. Either stay and die fighting a hopeless battle, or leave and join the Grey Wardens to alert the rest of the nobility about the tragedy that had befallen her family. Her mother refused to leave the dying Teyrn’s side no matter how much Artis pleaded with her to come with her and Duncan to safety. With the very likely event of Fergus’ death if Howe’s men staged an ambush, Artis would be the last of her line. There was no need to mull over Duncan’s offer, nor was there time.
She agreed.
Several days of hard travel brought the two survivors to the looming Ostagar ruin, buzzing with activity in preparation for the clash with what was expected to be a simple battle with a small horde of Darkspawn. It was there that Artis met the first of her companions, a somewhat...odd ex-templar by the name of Alistair, as well as two other recruits: Ser Jory and Daveth. The quartet was dispatched on a double mission to prepare for the Joining ceremony (An initiation rite) by Duncan with Alistair in charge of keeping the new recruits hopefully in one piece. After a strange encounter with a “Witch of the Wilds” by the name of Morrigan and acquiring several vials of Darkspawn blood, they returned to the army camp. The three recruits were made to wait until dusk fell, then the Joining began. Daveth went first, drinking from a silver chalice filled with the Darkspawn blood they had collected earlier.
It was... an unpleasant experience. Daveth had clutched at his throat, convulsing with his eyes rolled back in his skull, and collapsed into a twitching heap at Duncan’s feet. He did not survive longer than it took for several heartbeats to pass. Ser Jory immediately refused to go further with the ceremony, going as far as to draw his blade if he had to defend himself, but in the end found death in the daggers Duncan wielded. Artis’ turn came, and the cup was borne to her lips by Duncan’s hands, stained by Jory’s lifeblood. All she could recall was a terrible rending pain in her head, and voices. Terrible voices that seemed to stretch forever, matched with the sight of the Archdemon (The leader of the Darkspawn) itself-a great, twisted Dragon turned evil by the Taint (Presumably a substance that turns anything it touches into Darkspawn) that presided over the grotesque masses and spewed brilliant indigo gouts of flame.
It was hours after the experience when she woke with a splitting headache and a feeling like lead sitting in her stomach, but she survived. After checking to see that she wasn’t about to pass out again, Duncan explained what it was that made the Grey Wardens so special-by consuming the Taint, they became capable of detecting Darkspawn at a distance as well as if the Archdemon was present. After a brief conversation in which Artis familiarized herself with the idea of being partially Tainted, she was given the task to accompany Alistair to the top of the Tower of Ishal within the encampment to light the signal fire when the time was right. Once lit, the blaze would cue the reserve forces to hit the Darkspawn horde’s flank and divert the battle from the defences.
However, upon reaching the foot of the tower with Alistair, the two found a swarm of Darkspawn already taking up residence around and inside the building-it took a desperate battle punctuated by brief rests in between to reach the top and dispatch the last of the monsters before the torch was lit. They barely had time to even think of descending the Tower again when what seemed like an endless mass of twisted creatures streamed into the beacon room, overwhelming the two valiantly struggling Wardens.
Artis came to days after the unfortunate event in Morrigan’s home, her mother Flemeth (A fabled and supposedly immortal Witch of the Wilds), having saved both the young Cousland as well as Alistair from the Darkspawn in the Tower. Artis bore wounds so severe she was in a coma-like state that left the older Alistair despairing that he was the last Grey Warden in Ferelden. As it turns out they did manage to light the beacon, but instead of engaging the Darkspawn, the forces led by the King’s advisor Loghain pulled back and retreated to leave the Grey Wardens and the King’s portion of the army to be overrun. Both Duncan and King Cailan were killed in the battle, along with every last Ferelden Grey Warden. Artis and Alistair were the last two left.
The real challenge began after leaving Flemeth’s dwelling with Morrigan in tow; ranging from the Brecilian Forest to the east all the way to Orzammar in the west, the group’s numbers began to swell as they recruited an ever growing number of brave souls to their cause. Wynne, Leliana, Sten, Zevran, Oghren, and the golem Shale made up the core fighting strength of the Warden’s recruiting forces by the time they turned their attention to the city of Denerim with three massive armies at their back made up of Magi, Dalish Elves, and Dwarvish warriors. Within Denerim, a Landsmeet was to be called-a massive meeting attended by the heads of noble families, advisors, etc to make decisions on behalf of the common people. Loghain would be faced there and the nobles informed of the monstrosities he had committed when he left the King to die.
It took a little less than a week to scrounge up some choice evidence to turn the nobility against Loghain. Selling the Alienage elves to slavers in order to gain more funding for the production of war machines, kidnapping the relatives of Banns not inclined to vote for him, even going so far as to torture an Orlesian Grey Warden that had snuck across the country border to help fend off the Darkspawn horde. During the investigating Artis had the opportunity to repay Arl Howe for killing her parents, which she was more than happy to take. Howe wouldn't pose a problem ever again.
Before the Landsmeet began, however, Alistair pulled the young Cousland aside for a short conversation. Over the length of their travels the two had grown close enough for her to consider him as both a best friend and a second brother that she never had. Alistair requested that she stay to be an advisor for him when he became king.
But that never happened.
The Cousland in Artis, the noble, knew that Alistair's reign would be widely disputed due to his inexperience in politics. He never wanted to be King in the first place, and if he went through with this, there could very well be a civil war. Assassination might be something to expect. He'd be miserable.
Unwilling to put a friend through such an ordeal, Cousland backed Anora for the throne despite Alistair's vehement protests. Anora had been groomed for this purpose since childhood and could be trusted to run a country in a state of panic. And if she was assassinated... there would be no great loss. Worse still, the chance came to execute Loghain for his crimes- the anguish on Anora's face struck a chord in the Warden, and Artis put up her sword, unwilling to make someone go through the acute sense of loss she had not so long ago.
Both the loss of his claim to the throne as well as her sparing Loghain was enough to drive Alistair away in a terrible temper. Artis never saw him again.
While the armies readied themselves to march come dawn, Riordan (The Orlesian Warden rescued from the dungeons) called for Artis and Loghain to meet him that evening to discuss tactics. It seemed one of the things Duncan had failed to teach Alistair (And by extension, herself) before his death was the sole reason for the existence of the Grey Wardens. If a normal soldier killed the Archdemon, the Tainted spirit simply moved on to take over the body of the closest Darkspawn, whether it was a foot or a mile away. But if a Warden killed it, then it would fuse with the Warden's soul and destroy them both. An ultimate sacrifice to eliminate a threat to the country; well worth a single life, even a Warden.
With that thought fresh in her mind, Cousland returned to her quarters to think things over to discover Morrigan waiting for her. It seemed there was a ritual she knew of to ensure none of them would have to die when the final blow was struck, but the catch was Artis would have to convince Loghain to sleep with Morrigan as part of the 'blood magic ritual thing'. The intent was to create a child that would serve as a vessel for the spirit of the Old God (I.e. dragon) without the evil Taint. When Cousland refused out of a mix of repulsion for the idea of using her fellow Warden in such a fashion as well as some measure of lingering psychological pain from the recent loss of Alistair's friendship, Morrigan fled the castle in a terrible rage and presumably vanished into the wilds.
Morning dawned with a bloody sky to match the ground they marched on.
Taking Zevran, Loghain, and Wynne with her to the top of Fort Drakon to slay the Archdemon sounded a lot easier the night before than it actually was when it came down to doing it. There were waves upon waves of Darkspawn to wade through and cut down, draining the Warden's group of precious stamina needed to fight off a dragon that was more than likely hundreds of years old. But fight they did, climbing ever upwards until they finally reached the peak. It was a long, grueling battle that went for what felt like days before the beast was weakened enough to close in for a final clash.
She hadn't intended to deal the death blow. It was supposed to be Loghain that struck the Archdemon down, but when the opportunity came, he was too gravely wounded to move quickly enough to take it after shielding her from a gaggle of Shrieks, Genlocks, and Hurlocks that struggled with their own forces. And he still had a daughter.
The poisons coating Zevran's weapons had slowed the dragon's reaction time enough to allow her to attack where Loghain could not.
In the instant before she made the killing blow, however, time seemed to pause...
Personality: Prior to the start of her physical training in swordplay alongside Fergus, the young Cousland was not by any means a model child. A bad temper and manipulative streak more often than not twisted her parents around her little finger in matters where a more 'streetwise' parent would simply give the miscreant a sound spanking. This brat phase passed after a vastly less understanding teacher was given control of her schedule-- there was no room whatsoever for whining and sad eyes if she was to learn to wield a sword like any self respecting warrior. Acting would be left for acting classes and politics, not the battlefield. The lesson endured into her adult life, and as a consequence she isn't terribly good at fibbing her way through encounters or seeing through someone else's lies. She is, however, extremely tenacious and rarely (if ever) gives up on a venture once she commits to it; rather like a large dog might sink its teeth into an unfortunate target and refuse to let go. This is both a good and bad thing depending on the circumstances.
Underneath her somewhat patchy 'Ideal Knight/Leader' persona, Artis herself possesses a wry, sarcastic sense of humor, bullheaded stubbornness, and an unfortunate tendency to bite off more than she can chew - the last of which typically landing her in trouble that could be easily avoided. Overall the young Noble is a fairly easygoing sort, quite a bit like her father. She's eager to make friends or positive relationships, but unfortunately isn't the best at deciphering the difference between people genuinely meaning well and those looking to stab her in the back later on down the line. Maybe it's a family bloodline thing. Even then, she's more inclined to believe in the 'innocent until proven guilty' idea and will usually ignore rumors unless thorough, unbiased evidence is laid out in front of her.
Her leadership abilities are somewhat in question after her decisions (Read: failing spectacularly at morale and kicking the bucket) lead to losing two party members in one go. At present time she's more than happy to fall back and leave the stress/consequences to someone else.
Powers/Abilities: Her list of magical abilities can be found here, but really there are only two: the first is a solid wall of magic-reinforced sound that knocks back hostile targets while causing their attack power to drop for a short duration; the second is an aura that increases morale along with offensive and defensive abilities of allies within a certain radius.
Physical abilities listed here (Minus the fourth tier abilities) can be toned down at mod request if needed.
Limitations: Her Motivate aura will constantly drain her mental and physical energy in proportion to the number of individuals she's trying to effect, while her War Cry will cause severe chest and throat pain to the point of rendering her mute for several days afterwards. Overreaching herself in either case (Attempting to Motivate more people than she can handle/Trying to use War Cry more than once in a short span of time) will cause her to drop into a comatose state while her body recuperates the energy lost.
Writing Samples
Third Person Sample: Ba-thump. Ba-thump.
That was a noise that the Warden was relieved to hear. A marvel of nature, really - she could almost think of it as an internal drummer, insisting that she keep marching at ever greater speed regardless of her screaming muscles. For the longest time, she simply stood there, listening.
...she should be dead, right? That’s what happened to Wardens after they killed an Archdemon. Unless Riordan was wrong, and somehow she completely missed being dumped in some other country with no sign of civilization that she recognized.
As distracted as Artis could be, however, she highly doubted that was the case.
And yet, here she was, standing in full armour with a sword in hand and a shield in the other, knee-high in dead grass like some poorly located statue. Her arms suddenly dropped limply to her sides, the peaked helmet slowly pivoting back and forth while the swordswoman studied what amount of landscape she could see through the slits in her visor. But as she squinted against the bright sunlight, there was just the faintest suggestion of a huddle of buildings in the distance. True, said buildings looked rather ramshackle from this distance, and the waves of heat didn't help to clarify the image much either. But she'd take what she could get.
Perhaps she could ask for directions there.
Or, failing that, threaten the first mage she came across until he or she set up some sort of magical conveyance spell. There was no way she was going to hoof it all the way back to Fort Drakon on foot.
First Person Sample: [Video Entry]
What a sneaky, underhanded little-- [Cousland's voice is shrill with temper, albiet not raised much above normal speaking volume.]
[A pause follows, accompanied by a curious whine from the knight's faithful hound. Yes, she is talking to a Dog. No, she doesn't care how ridiculous Mabari Talk Therapy sounds - it works! Bottom line.] Don't give me that look. Handprints on my breastplate and helmet after they went mysteriously missing this afternoon? Didn't get there by themselves.
[Cue thinking cap.]
Leliana's and Morrigan's hands are too small to fit the prints. See? [Dog huffs. Likely this is due to thinking Cousland's ranting is delusional, but she plows on anyway.] Shale has no interest in armor. Plus it doesn't have fingerprints. And Sten was on watch with me for the whole morning, so he wouldn't have a chance to nip in and steal anything from under my nose.
[Another pregnant silence stretches on - in the background it seems a certain drunk dwarf and a dour Qunari are having an argument over proper 'sword polishing' technique. How she concentrates on her 'puzzle' with such a din is a mystery in itself.]
Oghren...
Well, he's Oghren. Enough said. Wynne wouldn't have a reason to take anything of mine... plus she'd at least ask first.
Which leaves either the elf or the templar.
[Exhibit one.] The plate-wearing templar.
[Exhibit two.] With large hands.
[The jury rules the defendant guilty of all charges, your honour. Proceed to meting out justice with a gavel to the head.] So, Dog. Remember when you left that rabbit for Morrigan, but she didn't appreciate your thoughtful gift? I bet if you stash one in Alistair's socks--
Player Info
Player Name: Clamor
Player LJ: macabreclamor
Player Instant Messenger Type and Handle: AIM - witcardsnribbons
Player Email: proeliumhonoris@hotmail.com
Are you 18 years of age or older? Yup.
Character Info
Character Name: Artis Cousland
Character’s Age: 23
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Timeline: Seconds before her death.
GAME HISTORY:
Cousland's first appearance in the town was around Day 23, where she promptly took her phone apart out of curiosity and simply never put it together again. After getting herself wedged in the doorway of her designated house, the Warden met Hope and Travis and eventually extricated herself.
The three of them met again the day afterwards to search for the missing individuals in the forest... or so they had hoped, anyway. In truth, Cousland got her ass handed to her on a silver platter after going toe to toe with Hellpointe's very own cannabalistic freakshow Hehsebamon. After getting trounced, discovering using her powers = bad news, and having her sword all but snapped (Actually bent pretty much back on itself but that's close enough), the posse retreated back to the town where she spent a few days feeling sorry for herself. The sword was eventually repaired by Avari, thankfully enough.
Fast forwarding past the blizzard event and a second run in with Hehsebamon, Cousland left off shortly after saving Travis from a Heaven Smile. As a result she'll still have some injuries if/when she returns, with no memory of having left at all.
Appearance: Cousland's stature reflects the lifestyle she's been living for the past year or so - very solid, with little to no excess fat anywhere on her body. Most of her strength originates from her core and shoulders judging by the amount of toned muscle in that area.
Standing at a rather unimposing five foot four, the Warden's full head of unruly, shoulder-length red hair, smattering of freckles, and green eyes makes her look more like a farmgirl than the youngest child of a noble house. Still, she holds herself in the style of someone who has the knowledge of how to navigate through most situations (Battle or politics, although frankly the two are pretty much the same anyway) although being encased from head to toe in the finest armour and carrying a very pointy bit of metal always helps too.
More often than not she leaves the armour at home in favour of a light leather tunic, leggings, and soft boots instead; the sword and shield, however, are with her at all times.
Underneath her clothes and strung around her neck on a simple chain is the pendant Reflection as well as her Warden's Oath.
History:PREPARE FOR TL;DR.
Born the second child to Teyrn Bryce Cousland (“Teyrn” being the title given to someone at lord status, having lands and possibly a castle at their disposal) and his wife Elanor after her older brother Fergus, Artis was raised in the castle of Highever to be the ideal daughter: subjected to lessons in dance and music, of acting and politics. Or so it started. It was soon discovered that despite her best (?) efforts, Artis’ stubborn refusal to learn frequently wore on the nerves of her tutors, and she regularly broke delicate instruments in childish rages. At some point a more dramatic encounter with a drum and a teacher that pressed perhaps a little too much ended in an interesting dilemma where the drum itself was stuck around the man’s neck and the sticks shoved up his nostr-- ahem. But that’s a story for later. The fact was the young woman had absolutely no talent whatsoever for maidenly things such as the arts, which effectively ended her lessons much to the woe of her Governess. Artis herself couldn’t be more thrilled. Her tutors were often starchy arrogant bastards with these beady little eyes that had this way of glaring like every single flat note in the universe was entirely her fault.
The reason for the musical torture was apparent after a young Prince Cailan came to visit-the boy was far more interested in playing fake war against Fergus, of course, than mooning after some bratty girl who thought all boys had cooties anyway. As far as Artis recalled, the extent of their interaction was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ conversation that ended in Calian quickly losing interest in favour of instead going to see what kind of pointy swords and daggers they had in the Cousland armoury.
At any rate, a suggestion from her older brother sparked a new lifestyle geared towards her natural talent rather than superficial ones she wouldn’t use on a daily basis anyway -- What kind of twit went around playing a lute in the middle of afternoon tea? -- starting at age twelve, Artis was trained with her brother how to wield a wooden sword. Certainly her mother didn’t approve, but her father merely laughed it off in that good-natured fashion he always had, and so the lessons continued. As years passed the tests became more rigorous; metal replaced wood, armour and shields were thrown into the mix. Tactics and mock wars were practiced. How would they repel invaders from the north? How would a siege best be handled if there was a breach in this wall?
Artis’ lessons in acting stood her well during more physical exercises, as Fergus had difficulty reading intentions on an opponent prone to making outrageously inappropriate faces for the ring of battle. One moment she might be looking in a completely different direction, the next he’d have a shield rapping him smartly in the nose. Such were the way things went until after he hit puberty. After that he more often than not managed to overpower her, then sat on his younger sister and mussed her hair despite her squalling and protests-as a result the younger Cousland was forced to come up with ever more clever stratagems to hold her own. The two siblings grew to be capable warriors and strategists in due time. Fergus grew mature enough to act as the Teyrn's right hand in domestic matters while Artis learned how to navigate the political battleground with careful tutoring by her father.
Shortly after her twenty third birthday, word arrived that King Cailan was readying his forces for war alongside the ranks of the fabled Gray Wardens. The Wardens (An order of ancient warriors dedicated to detecting and eliminating something called a “Blight”, a term which meant a surge of twisted monstrosities called Darkspawn threatened to push into occupied Ferelden land) feared the coming of another Blight, and as such Teyrns across the land were required to devote at least a small portion of fighting men and women to drive the Darkspawn back into the Korcari Wilds to the south from whence they came. Fergus was tasked with leading a handful of men to the rendezvous in the ruins of the stronghold Ostagar while his father gathered the rest of the troops and readied them to march at dawn the next day. Artis was naturally furious at being left out of the impending mêlée, exhibiting a temper quite unbecoming for a young lady of her age and station. Arl Howe, a friend of the family, stopped by to check up on the Couslands at the same time a peculiar stranger visited Teyrn Bryce. This stranger was none other than the Grey Warden Commander, Duncan. Despite having the Warden Commander quite clearly voice his interest in recruiting Artis to join the ranks of the Grey Wardens, not to mention her arguments, Bryce Cousland was loathe to lose his daughter to such a fate and expressly told Duncan that no such recruitment would occur.
That night, Highever was besieged.
Artis woke to the screams of the wounded and dying outside her window and the stench of roiling smoke from down below. It was barely enough time to fumble into her practice armour and strap on her shield when the first soldiers burst through her bedroom door, bearing the Arl Howe’s emblem emblazoned on their armour. It was the first real time the youngest Cousland found herself fighting for her life, and in the end the killing sickened her. It would not be the last. The betrayal had been well planned, and the majority of the Highever knights had left earlier in the day with Fergus in the lead. The few that were left were hard pressed to do their duty of defending the noble family and the innocent souls caught in the crossfire.
After partnering up with her mother not too long afterwards, the two ran, skirmished, and slaughtered their way through halls and rooms that seemed to have no end, making gruesome discoveries one after another. Visiting families of other nobles were slaughtered in their sleep-every man, woman, and child regardless of gender or age. Even Fergus’ wife and son found no mercy. A brief side trip to the Cousland Treasury found Artis properly armed with the family heirlooms: a fine, razor-edged sword and sturdy alloy shield notched by battles long past that bore the Highever arms. Both served her well during the desperate last moments it took to push through the chaos to the secret escape tunnel through the larders-where they found a mortally wounded Teyrn Bryce just barely in a conscious state. He told them of Howe’s treachery and urged them to flee the same time Duncan showed up, having cleared the halls of hostile fighters for a time. There was a choice to be made then. Either stay and die fighting a hopeless battle, or leave and join the Grey Wardens to alert the rest of the nobility about the tragedy that had befallen her family. Her mother refused to leave the dying Teyrn’s side no matter how much Artis pleaded with her to come with her and Duncan to safety. With the very likely event of Fergus’ death if Howe’s men staged an ambush, Artis would be the last of her line. There was no need to mull over Duncan’s offer, nor was there time.
She agreed.
Several days of hard travel brought the two survivors to the looming Ostagar ruin, buzzing with activity in preparation for the clash with what was expected to be a simple battle with a small horde of Darkspawn. It was there that Artis met the first of her companions, a somewhat...odd ex-templar by the name of Alistair, as well as two other recruits: Ser Jory and Daveth. The quartet was dispatched on a double mission to prepare for the Joining ceremony (An initiation rite) by Duncan with Alistair in charge of keeping the new recruits hopefully in one piece. After a strange encounter with a “Witch of the Wilds” by the name of Morrigan and acquiring several vials of Darkspawn blood, they returned to the army camp. The three recruits were made to wait until dusk fell, then the Joining began. Daveth went first, drinking from a silver chalice filled with the Darkspawn blood they had collected earlier.
It was... an unpleasant experience. Daveth had clutched at his throat, convulsing with his eyes rolled back in his skull, and collapsed into a twitching heap at Duncan’s feet. He did not survive longer than it took for several heartbeats to pass. Ser Jory immediately refused to go further with the ceremony, going as far as to draw his blade if he had to defend himself, but in the end found death in the daggers Duncan wielded. Artis’ turn came, and the cup was borne to her lips by Duncan’s hands, stained by Jory’s lifeblood. All she could recall was a terrible rending pain in her head, and voices. Terrible voices that seemed to stretch forever, matched with the sight of the Archdemon (The leader of the Darkspawn) itself-a great, twisted Dragon turned evil by the Taint (Presumably a substance that turns anything it touches into Darkspawn) that presided over the grotesque masses and spewed brilliant indigo gouts of flame.
It was hours after the experience when she woke with a splitting headache and a feeling like lead sitting in her stomach, but she survived. After checking to see that she wasn’t about to pass out again, Duncan explained what it was that made the Grey Wardens so special-by consuming the Taint, they became capable of detecting Darkspawn at a distance as well as if the Archdemon was present. After a brief conversation in which Artis familiarized herself with the idea of being partially Tainted, she was given the task to accompany Alistair to the top of the Tower of Ishal within the encampment to light the signal fire when the time was right. Once lit, the blaze would cue the reserve forces to hit the Darkspawn horde’s flank and divert the battle from the defences.
However, upon reaching the foot of the tower with Alistair, the two found a swarm of Darkspawn already taking up residence around and inside the building-it took a desperate battle punctuated by brief rests in between to reach the top and dispatch the last of the monsters before the torch was lit. They barely had time to even think of descending the Tower again when what seemed like an endless mass of twisted creatures streamed into the beacon room, overwhelming the two valiantly struggling Wardens.
Artis came to days after the unfortunate event in Morrigan’s home, her mother Flemeth (A fabled and supposedly immortal Witch of the Wilds), having saved both the young Cousland as well as Alistair from the Darkspawn in the Tower. Artis bore wounds so severe she was in a coma-like state that left the older Alistair despairing that he was the last Grey Warden in Ferelden. As it turns out they did manage to light the beacon, but instead of engaging the Darkspawn, the forces led by the King’s advisor Loghain pulled back and retreated to leave the Grey Wardens and the King’s portion of the army to be overrun. Both Duncan and King Cailan were killed in the battle, along with every last Ferelden Grey Warden. Artis and Alistair were the last two left.
The real challenge began after leaving Flemeth’s dwelling with Morrigan in tow; ranging from the Brecilian Forest to the east all the way to Orzammar in the west, the group’s numbers began to swell as they recruited an ever growing number of brave souls to their cause. Wynne, Leliana, Sten, Zevran, Oghren, and the golem Shale made up the core fighting strength of the Warden’s recruiting forces by the time they turned their attention to the city of Denerim with three massive armies at their back made up of Magi, Dalish Elves, and Dwarvish warriors. Within Denerim, a Landsmeet was to be called-a massive meeting attended by the heads of noble families, advisors, etc to make decisions on behalf of the common people. Loghain would be faced there and the nobles informed of the monstrosities he had committed when he left the King to die.
It took a little less than a week to scrounge up some choice evidence to turn the nobility against Loghain. Selling the Alienage elves to slavers in order to gain more funding for the production of war machines, kidnapping the relatives of Banns not inclined to vote for him, even going so far as to torture an Orlesian Grey Warden that had snuck across the country border to help fend off the Darkspawn horde. During the investigating Artis had the opportunity to repay Arl Howe for killing her parents, which she was more than happy to take. Howe wouldn't pose a problem ever again.
Before the Landsmeet began, however, Alistair pulled the young Cousland aside for a short conversation. Over the length of their travels the two had grown close enough for her to consider him as both a best friend and a second brother that she never had. Alistair requested that she stay to be an advisor for him when he became king.
But that never happened.
The Cousland in Artis, the noble, knew that Alistair's reign would be widely disputed due to his inexperience in politics. He never wanted to be King in the first place, and if he went through with this, there could very well be a civil war. Assassination might be something to expect. He'd be miserable.
Unwilling to put a friend through such an ordeal, Cousland backed Anora for the throne despite Alistair's vehement protests. Anora had been groomed for this purpose since childhood and could be trusted to run a country in a state of panic. And if she was assassinated... there would be no great loss. Worse still, the chance came to execute Loghain for his crimes- the anguish on Anora's face struck a chord in the Warden, and Artis put up her sword, unwilling to make someone go through the acute sense of loss she had not so long ago.
Both the loss of his claim to the throne as well as her sparing Loghain was enough to drive Alistair away in a terrible temper. Artis never saw him again.
While the armies readied themselves to march come dawn, Riordan (The Orlesian Warden rescued from the dungeons) called for Artis and Loghain to meet him that evening to discuss tactics. It seemed one of the things Duncan had failed to teach Alistair (And by extension, herself) before his death was the sole reason for the existence of the Grey Wardens. If a normal soldier killed the Archdemon, the Tainted spirit simply moved on to take over the body of the closest Darkspawn, whether it was a foot or a mile away. But if a Warden killed it, then it would fuse with the Warden's soul and destroy them both. An ultimate sacrifice to eliminate a threat to the country; well worth a single life, even a Warden.
With that thought fresh in her mind, Cousland returned to her quarters to think things over to discover Morrigan waiting for her. It seemed there was a ritual she knew of to ensure none of them would have to die when the final blow was struck, but the catch was Artis would have to convince Loghain to sleep with Morrigan as part of the 'blood magic ritual thing'. The intent was to create a child that would serve as a vessel for the spirit of the Old God (I.e. dragon) without the evil Taint. When Cousland refused out of a mix of repulsion for the idea of using her fellow Warden in such a fashion as well as some measure of lingering psychological pain from the recent loss of Alistair's friendship, Morrigan fled the castle in a terrible rage and presumably vanished into the wilds.
Morning dawned with a bloody sky to match the ground they marched on.
Taking Zevran, Loghain, and Wynne with her to the top of Fort Drakon to slay the Archdemon sounded a lot easier the night before than it actually was when it came down to doing it. There were waves upon waves of Darkspawn to wade through and cut down, draining the Warden's group of precious stamina needed to fight off a dragon that was more than likely hundreds of years old. But fight they did, climbing ever upwards until they finally reached the peak. It was a long, grueling battle that went for what felt like days before the beast was weakened enough to close in for a final clash.
She hadn't intended to deal the death blow. It was supposed to be Loghain that struck the Archdemon down, but when the opportunity came, he was too gravely wounded to move quickly enough to take it after shielding her from a gaggle of Shrieks, Genlocks, and Hurlocks that struggled with their own forces. And he still had a daughter.
The poisons coating Zevran's weapons had slowed the dragon's reaction time enough to allow her to attack where Loghain could not.
In the instant before she made the killing blow, however, time seemed to pause...
Personality: Prior to the start of her physical training in swordplay alongside Fergus, the young Cousland was not by any means a model child. A bad temper and manipulative streak more often than not twisted her parents around her little finger in matters where a more 'streetwise' parent would simply give the miscreant a sound spanking. This brat phase passed after a vastly less understanding teacher was given control of her schedule-- there was no room whatsoever for whining and sad eyes if she was to learn to wield a sword like any self respecting warrior. Acting would be left for acting classes and politics, not the battlefield. The lesson endured into her adult life, and as a consequence she isn't terribly good at fibbing her way through encounters or seeing through someone else's lies. She is, however, extremely tenacious and rarely (if ever) gives up on a venture once she commits to it; rather like a large dog might sink its teeth into an unfortunate target and refuse to let go. This is both a good and bad thing depending on the circumstances.
Underneath her somewhat patchy 'Ideal Knight/Leader' persona, Artis herself possesses a wry, sarcastic sense of humor, bullheaded stubbornness, and an unfortunate tendency to bite off more than she can chew - the last of which typically landing her in trouble that could be easily avoided. Overall the young Noble is a fairly easygoing sort, quite a bit like her father. She's eager to make friends or positive relationships, but unfortunately isn't the best at deciphering the difference between people genuinely meaning well and those looking to stab her in the back later on down the line. Maybe it's a family bloodline thing. Even then, she's more inclined to believe in the 'innocent until proven guilty' idea and will usually ignore rumors unless thorough, unbiased evidence is laid out in front of her.
Her leadership abilities are somewhat in question after her decisions (Read: failing spectacularly at morale and kicking the bucket) lead to losing two party members in one go. At present time she's more than happy to fall back and leave the stress/consequences to someone else.
Powers/Abilities: Her list of magical abilities can be found here, but really there are only two: the first is a solid wall of magic-reinforced sound that knocks back hostile targets while causing their attack power to drop for a short duration; the second is an aura that increases morale along with offensive and defensive abilities of allies within a certain radius.
Physical abilities listed here (Minus the fourth tier abilities) can be toned down at mod request if needed.
Limitations: Her Motivate aura will constantly drain her mental and physical energy in proportion to the number of individuals she's trying to effect, while her War Cry will cause severe chest and throat pain to the point of rendering her mute for several days afterwards. Overreaching herself in either case (Attempting to Motivate more people than she can handle/Trying to use War Cry more than once in a short span of time) will cause her to drop into a comatose state while her body recuperates the energy lost.
Writing Samples
Third Person Sample: Ba-thump. Ba-thump.
That was a noise that the Warden was relieved to hear. A marvel of nature, really - she could almost think of it as an internal drummer, insisting that she keep marching at ever greater speed regardless of her screaming muscles. For the longest time, she simply stood there, listening.
...she should be dead, right? That’s what happened to Wardens after they killed an Archdemon. Unless Riordan was wrong, and somehow she completely missed being dumped in some other country with no sign of civilization that she recognized.
As distracted as Artis could be, however, she highly doubted that was the case.
And yet, here she was, standing in full armour with a sword in hand and a shield in the other, knee-high in dead grass like some poorly located statue. Her arms suddenly dropped limply to her sides, the peaked helmet slowly pivoting back and forth while the swordswoman studied what amount of landscape she could see through the slits in her visor. But as she squinted against the bright sunlight, there was just the faintest suggestion of a huddle of buildings in the distance. True, said buildings looked rather ramshackle from this distance, and the waves of heat didn't help to clarify the image much either. But she'd take what she could get.
Perhaps she could ask for directions there.
Or, failing that, threaten the first mage she came across until he or she set up some sort of magical conveyance spell. There was no way she was going to hoof it all the way back to Fort Drakon on foot.
First Person Sample: [Video Entry]
What a sneaky, underhanded little-- [Cousland's voice is shrill with temper, albiet not raised much above normal speaking volume.]
[A pause follows, accompanied by a curious whine from the knight's faithful hound. Yes, she is talking to a Dog. No, she doesn't care how ridiculous Mabari Talk Therapy sounds - it works! Bottom line.] Don't give me that look. Handprints on my breastplate and helmet after they went mysteriously missing this afternoon? Didn't get there by themselves.
[Cue thinking cap.]
Leliana's and Morrigan's hands are too small to fit the prints. See? [Dog huffs. Likely this is due to thinking Cousland's ranting is delusional, but she plows on anyway.] Shale has no interest in armor. Plus it doesn't have fingerprints. And Sten was on watch with me for the whole morning, so he wouldn't have a chance to nip in and steal anything from under my nose.
[Another pregnant silence stretches on - in the background it seems a certain drunk dwarf and a dour Qunari are having an argument over proper 'sword polishing' technique. How she concentrates on her 'puzzle' with such a din is a mystery in itself.]
Oghren...
Well, he's Oghren. Enough said. Wynne wouldn't have a reason to take anything of mine... plus she'd at least ask first.
Which leaves either the elf or the templar.
[Exhibit one.] The plate-wearing templar.
[Exhibit two.] With large hands.
[The jury rules the defendant guilty of all charges, your honour. Proceed to meting out justice with a gavel to the head.] So, Dog. Remember when you left that rabbit for Morrigan, but she didn't appreciate your thoughtful gift? I bet if you stash one in Alistair's socks--