w4rwine

[w4rwine]

maybe the poison drips through     lucanis dellamorte of da:tv. primarily headcanon based and considerably canon divergent. here's an important note. also sorry to have to add this but please don't steal my fc or 'take inspiration' from me without asking.

affiliated w/     @st4ysoft's illario and teia, @chanticle's miriam ingellvar

character basics     lucanis dellamorte (known as: magekiller, the demon of vyrantium), he/him, bi & demi, 33 when he is encountered in da:tv, human (abomination, cohabitive possession by a demon of spite), antivan, ethnically mixed (though he has no knowledge of his birth parents or their origins), adopted grandson to first talon of the antivan crows caterina dellamorte and known to be her favourite for inheritance of that title and leadership of house dellamorte, extremely (extremely) skilled and versatile rogue assassin, famous amongst crows for his skill in hunting maleficarum that is aided by his intense and purpose-cultivated fade-sensitivity, after his possession he retains magickally enhanced abilities and physicality influenced by the immensely powerful envy-turned-spite demon with which he now is forced to share his body

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sight     fc diego calva, 5'7"/171cm, lean and solid but very lithe, sinewed and athletic with only some spare flesh on his body, strong but compact in the shoulders and sharply straight-hipped and tapered, limber, extremely delicate on his feet, able to easily move without sound and to pass unseen, a voracious and silent climber, prominent and very dark and expressive eyes, nearly black, a very dark brown with a dense undercolour of dark coppery-chestnut visible only in strong light, capable of conveying great emotion but usually banked, withholding but not cold, lent a further intensity by his straight, dark, worried brows      thick, wavy, dark hair worn usually worn about his ears but swept neatly back, cut features in a slightly discordantly delicate face, particularly around his mouth, after his term in the ossuary he wears a beard and mustache in the antivan fashion but that he shaves clean again not long after joining the veilguard, an even complexion that is marred by occupational scarring and but grows more and more sallow and shadowed as sleep deprivation becomes a permanent fixture of his physiology

smells     blood musk and dark plums, resinous labdanum, saffron and amber and scorched earth, lucanis is meticulously clean (it's only polite) and attendant to look and smell presentable, the smell of plums and saffron and cypress come from the oil he uses in his hair, saffron and jasmine and black amber from his soap, scorched earth is like violet and iris, ozonic—the physical stinging sweetness of inherent (and unfriendly) magick burned off in the air

tastes     lemon and garlic, braised veal and polenta cream, scallops over black ink and saffron risotto, smoked fish with parsley pesto, pumpkin tortelli and dry, fruity red wine, red fruits and sour cherry, dark wine made from sundried grapes, dark and cocoa in flavour, prosecco and hard nutty cheese, white asparagus and mussels, citrus, steam, and smoke, quince and fig, cherries and apples and iced plums in the shade of summer

background     UNDER CONSTRUCTION

[w4rwine]

halwn matei (neé trevelyan)     a player character of da:i. primarily headcanon based and considerably canon divergent.

affiliated w/     @grewarden's athelstan cousland (canon love interest), @mercysought's maxima aurum & abel de clair, @k1tch3n's tess

character basics—     born halwn matei arthyn trevelyan, he/him, gay, 35 at haven, marcher/andersche, mdd (reocurring), heir of houses trevelyan and basaradi, identifies wholly with his anders heritage and family, there is very little of his marcher father in him, andrastian-ish, one-handed warrior (battlemaster / champion), a scrappy fighter, trained as a knight in childhood but long since lost the rigidity of that style, cancer-leo cusp, quiet and intense, a reserved but gentle bearing and quiet but steadying ambivert warmth, timeline and backstory available here

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see—     fc alec secareanu, extremely tall at 6'6" and strong across the shoulders, strong and solid but still soft in places, sturdy in build and thick thorough his trunk and thighs, call it a rugby build, muscular in the mostly uncut way of a working man, soft but firm, handsome, with very dark eyes, umber or chestnut, creased at their edges with smiling and heavy, thoughtful brows and thick eyelashes, a strong nose, short, thick, dark, coarse, curly hair, usually wears a close-trimmed beard that may be more unruly when traveling, quite hairy throughout his body with a sun-warmed complexion showing many hours outdoors but still prone to chaffing pink in the cold, habitually clean with a farmer's habit of frequently scrubbing his hands and face and arms, large, broad, work-rough hands with thick, strong fingers, despite being a warrior prefers medium armour to heavy plate, dresses neatly in simple clothing typical of a farmer, wool sweaters and quilted cotton and undyed roughspun shirts, but doesn't really care what he wears, happy to allow josephine to dictate his wardrobe

smell—     dry straw and sun-dried clover, the cold smell of wind that clings to you after you step inside, wool and sweat, the smell of horse and of horse barns, rich, loamy earth and muddy petrichor, the scent of clear, cold, running water but also the earthy smell of a still pond on a summer day, smoke and cedar, wild thyme crushed underfoot, earthy vetiver and bread in the oven, the musk of field animals, white woods and worked steel and, later, blood and the faint ozonic-violet sting of magick, of invisible cracks in an atmosphere that resists breaking

taste—     milk-heavy coffee without sugar, oats and honey, game and grilled lamb and roast potatoes, omelette with pickled cabbage, beef belly with garlic sauce, eggs pickled with garlic and chiles and beets, soft pale cheese and blackberry jam, egg bread with walnuts and cocoa, sausage and buttery polenta, oysters in seawater, crusty rye bread spread thickly with soft butter, black grapes and black grape wines, velvety red wine with strong notes of red currant and rosehip, bright with acidity, and deep ruby wines from dark-skinned grapes, rich with flavours of dark cherry, plum, and chocolate

sound—     voiceclaim, halwn's voice is level and deep, bass and roughly resonant, from low in his chest, he almost always speaks softly, quietly, enough that speaking to him feels private, murmured, rarely meant to be heard by more than only you, his trade tongue is natively fluent but carries a strong andersche accent that is particular to the dialect spoken by his mother's family who were long ago displaced from the southwestern steppes as the landscape deteriorated from the ongoing damage of the blights, he speaks slowly, controlled and steady, usually a long time after everyone else has finished speaking, until he has finished listening—you will rarely, if ever, hear him raise his voice outside of battle, his laughter is usually a low, warm, rough chuckle, and he has a tendency to give a deep half-hum of agreement or acknowledgment, or a soft, throaty huff of disbelief, though his voice is deep and soothing, his focus is deliberate, and his plain, deliberate openness, even bluntness, quite intense

touch—     halwn is rough-handed and wind-burnt, warm at the belly and trunk but usually chilly in the exposed points of his face and hands when outdoors, layers up in wool and thick sweaters and other earthen fabrics, tends to stick his hands in various places to warm them (tucked into the waistband of his trousers, arms pulled into his body leaving empty sleeves), likes to pull his sweater over his nose to warm his face, solid and strong but still padded, coarse-headed and hairy through his arms and chest and belly and legs, somewhat heavy-footed, grounded, sturdy, calloused and almost unbearably gentle

notable qualities—     quiet, a little stoic but deeply warm, intense focus, a somewhat stormy or brooding resting expression that softens easily in small, subtle gestures of lax happiness, a low, deep but soft voice, a tendency to murmur, usually the last to speak, profoundly patient as his defining quality, light-hearted but intense, intimate, gentle, full of laughter and full of long-suffering faith, loneliness without suffering, love without the trap

skills—     speaks common and andersche natively, antivan and orlesian with base / functional fluency, an experienced farmer, shepherd, builder, and survivalist, a gifted gardener and functional (if slightly unimpressive) cook, startlingly gifted pianist and composer, as herald and then inquisitor, halwn usually fights with a shortsword and without a shield, even tall as he is, he's lean, and quite agile, and his skill with using a blade makes the shield only a hinderance in typical melee settings, he really learned to engage from criminals that he fought as a knight and later during the blight against the lawless cunning of darkspawn, so that the knightly rigidity of formal combat has long washed out of him, replaced by a necessary adaptiveness, he's tricky, and a little underhanded if he needs to be, fighting for survival rather than in tournament means that he's willing to throw sand in the face of an opponent who is trying to kill him—he's quite fast for a man of his size and gows forward with his whole body, very skilled, highly adaptive, and moves through opponents efficiently and without relish, he certainly can be a tank, and will be if necessary, he will step in front of a blow to defend those who need it, but his focus on the field is offensive, not defensive, and he's going to cut through the fray towards whatever opponent or objective is going to end the fight the fastest, that's his goal, he's very, very good at that, both as a tactician and as such an efficient fighter

further—     in his in-game timeline, halwn's left hand bears the mark of ancient elven magick, referred to as the anchor or the mark, essentially a dimensional window contained on his palm, a pool of flickering green fadelight and energy that enables him to both open and close tears in the veil, a barrier which separates the mundane world from the world of magick and spirits, though the mark begins on his hand it begins to spread in vein-like tessellation along his wrist and eventually up his forearm, the anchor is unstable, painful, and volatile, a dangerous magickal imprint that gives him very dangerous magickal abilities and direct access to the world of spirits and the source of all mana, eventually halwn loses his left arm from the elbow down after solas preforms a life-saving non-elective amputation via magick in order to separate him from the anchor as its spread is actively becomes violently and explosively unstable in the process of its degradation, halwn typically does not wear a prosthetic outside of combat or work or formal settings but, when he does, it is a magickal prosthetic crafted for him by dorian pavus

major decisions—     allied w/ the mages at redcliffe, made allies of the wardens at adamant, forced truce at halamshiral, allied w/ abelas at the temple of mythal, merrill drinks from the vir’abelasan, refuses to campaign for any candidate for divine, vows to stop solas by any means necessary, the inquisition is disbanded

[w4rwine]

imad marinus mercar     a rook of da:tv. primarily headcanon based and considerably canon divergent.

affiliated w/     @k1tch3n's tamara ingellvar (canon love interest), @mercysought's asharen lavellan (canon inquisitor), @2vinters's viper

character basics—     imad mercar (nee marinus), duelist / assassin rogue, he/him, bi with a preference for women, 38 at the start of veilguard, mixed / elf-blooded, tevinter, liberati (former gladitores, born to camerarius parents), his parents moved to minrathous from the scrublands around vol dorma shortly after they were married, believes in the maker but practices a non-andrastian worship and cultural religion not aligned totally with the imperial chantry that both his parents were raised with, former imperial templar and cohortes divinus turned informant against the upper echelons of tevinter society, slaver hunter and shadow dragon, dual-wield rogue duelist / assasin fighter, possessed of magick-nullifying abilities aligned with those of a southern seeker (lyrium branded but not a lyrium user) and the enhanced physical abilities (speed, strength, stamina) imparted on him by the physical transfusion of lyrium in the brand, is also gifted the unique ability (as happens in rare instances during the rite) to sense and influence mood / emotion in others by the spirit who broke his tranquility, thereby possesses a mild form of pathokinesis, full timeline / backstory here

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see—     fc ekin koç, 6'2" and extremely athletic, a lean, cut muscular build attributed to constant fighting, climbing, and bladework, broad-shouldered but lithe, limber and extremely light on his feet, very long dark hair that is usually worn braided and pulled back, always bearded, sharp, dark, striking heavily-lashed eyes, dark and kohl-lined, seeming to liquify to a warm amber when struck with light, thick bent brows that lend an intensity to his face, a long, strong, straight and eagled nose, firm mouth with a generous lower lip, a long cut-featured face, upright slightly tapered ears, handsome but silent, stoic, even brooding, at first appearance, his warmth only gradually revealed, well-groomed, appropriately appointed

smell—     oud and agarwood, the cooksmoke thick in minrathous alleyways and the brine of seawater, the urban petrichor of dusty stone streets newly wet with warm rain, leather and the black seed and olive oil he uses to treat his blades and armour, sandalwood soap, the jasmine and saffron infused oil he works habitually into his long hair after washing

taste—     sesame-crusted fish kebabs roasted over wood, parsley and lemon juice and garlic, chili and red lentil soup, the meat of an artichoke leaf dredged in oil, rice, garlic, and tomato stuffed vine leaves, meatballs of lamb and beef and onion grilled and wrapped in flatbread, roasted streetcorn, a musk-and-sweet-fleshed apricot fresh from a market stall, apricot juice, grape juice, strong double-kettled black tea, lightly sweetened but with a faint astringency

hear—     a dark, low, smooth voice, expressive in its tonality but also controlled into flatness when necessary, often carrying a warm lilt of laughter underneath when he teases, or smugness when he flirts, a low (or social) tevene accent colours his common, revealing his upbringing in minrathous though also edged a little by the throaty and emphatically consonant-heavy northern accent of his parents

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nicolò di genova     of the old guard franchise. primarily headcanon based but incorporates a combination of comic + film canon.

affiliated w/ @rvolving’s yusuf (exclusive), @choicescreen's nile (exclusive), @guttersniper's mutt (exclusive), and @k1tch3n's blanche (exclusive)

character basics—     nicolò di genova (nicky, nico), he/him, gay, married, auadhd, fc luca marinelli, current alias nicolas (nicky) anello, nearly a thousand years old in the modern day, sniper and former roman catholic priest      born in 1069 in the then-village of genova, in what is now northern italy, to a minor merchanting family, sixth of six sons, sent to monastery in piemonte, selected for ordination at 16 and ordained at 20, later abandoned monastic life to join the bishop of puy-en-velay's recruitment campaign at the onset of the first crusade in hope of attaining the clean soul in death that papal decree promised for all those who fought and in hope of aiding his fellow christians, first death came at the hands of his future husband and defender yusuf ibn al-kaysani on the fields outside of the holy city, in 1099 at the age of 30, thereupon unaging and immortal      nicky is immortal but not unkillable, he can be killed but will not remain dead, he can starve or drown or die of thirst but will return to do so again, both fatal and nonfatal wounds put on him heal rapidly, scaling to the severity of the wound but even most major wounds heal within minutes, he does feel pain, hunger, fatigue, etc, when he is killed the moment of death is too small to measure and broken immediately by his body 'restarting', together with a group of fellow immortals (including his husband, with whom he shared first deaths, who he killed and was killed by) nicky works as a contract killer of the immoral, and has fought for justice in conflicts throughout history and pursued the deaths of evil people, oppressors, and abusers in major and minor ways across history

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see—      fc nicky is tall (5'11"), broad-shouldered but spare in build, his waist and hips are pronouncedly narrow which, with the cut down from his wide shoulders, gives him a sharply tapered appearance. he's strong, particularly in the back and shoulders and thighs, but slender, angular and soft-stomached, with long legs and large hands that make him look a bit rangy.      he has a beautiful, almost mournfully masculine face, a very large aquiline nose, dramatically bowed mouth, and large very colourful eyes. his eyes are blue and green, changeable, sometimes stormy but usually pale and sea-green, almost milky, like a greener shade of turquoise. despite their brightness, they are deep-set and usually shadowed, almost bruised, and heavily framed by his eyelashes. people will often read him as expressionless or placid, even blank, but this is largely due to the exaggerated drama of his features and the fact that his minute expressions don't tend to scale to the overall intensity of his face.      he has a memorable mole at the bottom corner below his mouth, and his light, tawny brown hair is groomed neatly to the relative fashion of the time. dresses appropriate to the circumstance, when circumstance doesn't need to be considered he wears comfortable but modest things—plain but well fitting sweaters, collared knits, slacks or jeans, usually soft materials and a fit close to his body, neat and appropriate and distractedly fashion-conscious, leaning more towards a classic casual menswear style (slightly 60s or 70s in flavor). at home, it's a hoodie and track shorts. it's a stolen too-large tee. it's house slippers. his first death was at the age of 29, and so he is perpetually thus, though he can tend to skew a little younger in appearance due to the quality of his skin and the youthfulness implied by the fit impression of his broad shoulders and tapered waist.

smell—     food, usually. cooking. books and freshly laundered clothes. fresh air and sun-warmed skin. often the smell of the sea. nicky only wears cologne on appropriate occasions but when he does it's usually something like ébène fumé: incense, violet, pink pepper, papyrus, rose, and resin. he often smells of the honey-like sweetness of the beeswax candles burned in churches, and also of the incense burned there. he has a favourite soap that has strong notes of geranium (like peony, a soft rose scent), orange blossom, and bergamot. when he has been working, he will carry the distinct metallic smell of blood and gunpowder, heat and metal, and the tang of blood-washed sweat.

taste—     again, usually food. coffee, wine. nicky likes both strong coffee and strong, tannin-heavy red wines, as well as reds with strong red berry flavours, cherry wine is one of his particular favourites, and he's gained an appreciation for sweet reds from yusuf, who likes everything sugary. nicky likes extremes of flavour: spicy, salty, sour, sweet. basil and garlic and bread. what he doesn't like is muddied or lingering flavours, and he's very clean, so often he'll just taste of whatever he has used to rinse his palette. usually grappa or water or lemons, whose slices he'll bite into like an apple, a tendency from his childhood home where the lemons grew sour and sweet even to the pith.

hear—    in any language apart from his native zeneize, nicky's accent is quite strong. most people around the world would simply call this an italian accent, and it is, but it is also not, distinct and stronger in some ways than the 'standard' florentine italian accent, tied in some elements similar to a portugese or syllable-heavy southern french accent. in the modern day, his accent has bended more towards a standard florentine italian accent if only from his more frequent use of the language.      that said, he is skilled with languages and careful and attentive while speaking them, to the point of a kind of formality. nicky's voice is a rich, resonant, deep, soft tenor to baritone—polite, and gentle, but also unerringly firm. he speaks slowly and carefully, with great deliberation, and more often than not is happy to let others speak first, and to let those he trusts speak for him. he is, in general, a very quiet man.

touch—     nicky is warm, angular, but a little languid. even in a rush, he does not seem hurried. his overall impression is one of polite but profound intensity. his skin is pale and smooth and soft, scattered here and there with dark moles, only marginally blemished by scars he obtained in the few years of fighting before his death. since then, he does not scar. his hair, too, is very soft, usually holding his body's natural warmth, though he can tend to get cold in the feet and hands, rangy as he is. his large palms have callouses from his old life, and fresher ones both from handling weapons and from all the time he spends in the kitchen, practicing his knifework.      his shape is sharply angled, cut with dramatic lines: distinct collarbones, defined arms, hipbones, inguinal creases, a dimpled back. a little bony, but balanced by the softness of him in other places: his skin, his spare, soft stomach, his lean, strong ass and thicker thighs.

skills—     gifted warrior (after nearly a thousand years and countless wars throughout time he is highly skilled in many, if not most, forms of combat) but a truly exceptional marksman, trained and deadly experienced sniper, can speak over 30 languages passably, further knowledge of up to 80, mother tongue is ligurian but grew up also speaking greek and sabir and a few other gallo-italic languages, now speaks modern italian as his 'native' tongue, reads/writes/recites latin, educated by minor wealth in genova and later extensively (for his time) in the priesthood, in addition to centuries of education gained throughout the world including several (more than five) runs through culinary school, a very good cook with a passion for feeding people, frequently works in kitchens during ‘time off’ though he prefers to sous despite his profound skill, also has a propensity for healthcare work and has worked as a combat medic, nurse, and nursing volunteer throughout time, good with a needle, knowledge of building, farming, and other traditional skills from his monastic past, constructive, focused, and always busy, a startlingly beautiful and excellent dancer, and a clear, rich singing voice, unshowy but with great clarity of tone

playlist (songs you hear in the safehouse kitchen)—