Re-app to synodiporia

[pseudologist]

P L A Y E R;
NAME: PG
AGE: 33
PLAYER JOURNAL: quantumvelvet
TIMEZONE: EST
CONTACT: quantumvelvet
OTHER CHARACTERS PLAYED: Sabetha Belacoros (amadine), Liara T'Soni (brokers), River Tam (flumine)

C H A R A C T E R;
NAME: Varric Tethras
CANON: Dragon Age
POINT IN CANON: Post-Inquisition
AGE: 42
APPEARANCE: Here
CANON HISTORY: Here
CANON PERSONALITY: Varric has perfected the image of the indolent younger brother, the charismatic storyteller who has a tale for every occasion, who always knows a guy who knows a guy, but who rarely stirs beyond the hearthside. He spends much of his time in taverns and other common gathering places, has friends in both the lowest and the highest of places, and is always good for a drink or a story or a game of cards. Those who don't know him well will often see a man who cares for little save good company, a good drink, and a good story - the more embellished, the better. He's a bit of trouble, a lot interesting, and an excellent bluffer, but he's ultimatly just Varric.

In truth, Varric uses his reputation as a storyteller, scoundrel, and tavern institution to keep a close eye on the comings and goings of various important figures, public and otherwise. He has a nose for trouble, a keen eye for talent, and a knack for getting people to spill their secrets over a few drinks. While he prefers to keep company with common folk, he's able to fit in comfortably with people from all walks of life, and is adept at putting people from all walks of life at ease. And he does want people to be at ease - both because they make better company that way, and because they're more likely to talk.

Varric isn't just good at gathering information, he's good at knowing when to use it - or to withhold it. As far as he's concerned, information is a commodity, and he is a very good businessman. The right truth told at the right time can be tantamount to a ballista bolt through a rival's schemes, and the right lie - outright or by omission - can keep a rivalry from exploding into a full-blown feud. He values diplomacy, subterfuge, and wit over threats and violence; in his opinion, words make the best weapon when skillfully wielded, and he is a master.

Which isn't to say he should be mistaken for a pacifist. He may prefer to defuse a situation with a bit of wit, some flattery, a few coins, and if absolutely necessary, a threat or two if someone's being particularly obstinate, but he is capable of being ruthless when he feels the need, and he is vengeful when crossed.

For someone who likes telling stories as much as Varric does, he rarely ever speaks about himself. He often says he wants his tales to be remembered - and he is very good at crafting tales that will spread far and wide - but shows very little interest in being remembered himself as anything more than their chronicler. If asked about himself, he might deflect, tell a relevant story in which he plays only a peripheral role, or blatantly lie - and he might answer the same question from the same person with a different lie three times in a row, and then offer a fourth when called on it. Only his closest friends get anything close to honesty about his personal life, and even then, it's just as often couched in enough humour and sly asides to make just how honest he's actually being far from clear.

Varric has little patience with tradition for the sake of tradition. He's a dwarf, but he has no interest in returning the dwarven city of Orzammar, or in restoring his family name to greatness. He's more interested in survival and prosperity than in titles and honours, and feels his prospects for the former are much better on the surface. He has little use for most of the nobility, and if questioned about it will note that the ass that sits on the throne (be it literal or metaphorical) often isn't the person who does the work or has the real power. In spite of this, he does step up to become Kirkwall's Viscount after the Elder One's defeat, and to all appearances the city is recovering well, for all that Varric enjoys twitting his seneschal by playing at irresponsibility.

Varric prefers to take the middle path where he can, maintaining ties with as many sides of an issue as aren't ravening murderers, and his personal choices tend towards preserving peace and stability whenever possible. Because of this, he tends to get along reasonably well with authority figures, in spite of his irreverence and the fact that he has a habit of taking laws as things not to get caught breaking. When he does have to pick a side, it's usually the side that will do the least harm or the most good for the average person on the street. He vocally disapproves of taking the expedient route at the cost of civilians, and of powerful organizations throwing their weight around without regard to who it might hurt.

While Varric pretends not to care about much, and to loathe commitment, he is actually incredibly loyal. He looks out for his friends, and protects them where he can, whether by using his money (and his reputation) to keep danger off their backs, or by employing direct physical force. He's particularly protective of people he sees as naive or otherwise innocent in some sense, as evidenced by him taking first Merrill and later Cole under his wing to help the former survive Kirkwall, and the latter learn how to be human. Ultimately, people are more important to him than principles (or money, or even comfort), and though he tends to play off acts of kindness as inconsequential or done for pure amusement, it's not difficult for those who know him to see through the facade.

Varric does not take at all kindly to betrayal. His brother betraying him, Hawke, and the rest of their companions by leaving them to die in the Deep Roads sends him into a rage, and he spends the next several years trying to track Bartrand down. When he finally does, he can be talked into sparing his brother, but this is heavily implied to be only because Varric still feels some remaining obligation to his brother as family, as well as some pity for the effects the tainted Lyrium had on Bartrand's mind. In contrast (and far more typically), when the blood mage Gascard DuPuis proves to be working with the serial killer the party's been tracking, Varric will shoot him dead without hesitation, removing the option to sway him back to the party's side. And though he never goes after Anders even if the mage survives the events at the Gallows at the end of DA2, he speaks bitterly of him when the subject comes up in Inquisition, and it's clear that while he wouldn't harm him, neither would he help him, and he regrets their ever having met.

Varric cultivates a worldly air, and an aura of unflappability. Very little seems to really get to him - he'll write off emotional trauma with a quip, and serious injury with a reminder to himself that he should learn to dodge more. He may well be out of his depth - he often is, when facing demons or dragons or lyrium-crazed Templars - but he'll be damned if he'll deign to show it. He'll crack jokes, bluff, outright lie, and then tell a story about the whole thing later. With extra dragons, because dragons are just cool.

POINT OF DEPARTURE:
ABILITIES: First and foremost, Varric's a storyteller. He's adept at spinning a tale, whether it's wrapped around a kernel of truth or is pure fabrication, and at leading an audience to the conclusion he wants them to draw. He can build up someone's reputation in fairly short order, if he wants to - he knows how to direct (and deflect) attention. He's adept both oral storytelling and at writing, and is implied to be a better than decent songwriter and singer, though the only song he's explicitly written in canon is one he only hums in pieces.

He's also adept at navigating the underworld - he's fluent in bribes and blackmail, and can find out what palms to grease to get what he wants. He's a decent pickpocket, good with locks, and very good at spotting and disarming traps.

Varric is an incredible shot, and prefers to fight at range. He's swift and agile despite his stocky frame, and can hold his own in close combat, either with the retractable bayonette on the end of his crossbow or with a knife, but his expertise is as an archer; a skilled close combatant who manages to close with him can take him down. He's also skilled in trapsetting and the use of alchemical bombs and mines, which does make the act of closing an occasionally risky prospect.

Like all dwarves on Thedas, Varric is resistant to magic, though he's not wholly immune - he's more likely than a human or an elf to be unaffected by a magical attack, or to shake it off sooner, but sufficient power or skill can bypass this.

He also has a small handful of skills from his last turn through the game.

INVENTORY; Bianca, Varric's custom repeating crossbow, Masterwork Prowler Armor

ANYTHING ELSE WE SHOULD KNOW? I'm planning to bring Varric in with his memories of his previous stay in Syn intact, having gone through a (handwaved) stint in a Dungeon and a skip forward to a post-Inquisition rather than post-DA2 canon point during his absence following the Last of Us Jaunt.

S A M P L E S;
FIRST PERSON: No shit, the dragon was the size of this keep. Scales as large and thick as tower shields, eyes the size of this table.

[For emphasis, he knocks on the scarred wood.]

And the stench off the thing – everyone thinks the danger's in the fangs and claws, but anyone who even tried to close would've been knocked out cold before it was even in reach. It was so big it was trapped underground, you see, until the miners broke through. The smaller ones must've been feeding it, but they weren't bathing it. Imagine years and years of ground in dragon shit...

Yeah, you're getting the picture.

Anyway, the miners thought it was one of the Old Gods reborn, the ones it didn't char to a crisp, and there we are fighting the thing. There are arrows all through its wings, and Daisy's got half of it frozen solid, but it's still coughing up fireballs like a demon-possessed tabby with indigestion, and every time it shrieks, more of the little ones come swarming out of the rocks.

It's all we can do to keep from getting roasted, and I'm thinking, this is it. This is where we're going to die, char-broiled by a giant, shit-covered dragon. And then I hear this crack. Next thing I know, I'm digging myself out from a pile of rock, and the dragon's buried under half the cliff face, and there's Hawke climbing down grinning like a madman. Damned if I know how, but he managed to time everything just right so that all the dragon's hopping and flapping around dropped the mountain right on top of it.

And then there was the treasure...

THIRD PERSON: An Infiltrator sample, another Infiltrator sample, and a test drive thread