|Hometown||Unknown; previously lived in Minrathous, Tevinter Imperium, but he has reason to believe he has roots in Seheron prior to this.|
|Specialization||"Tevinter Fugitive"; accessing the lyrium embedded in his skin, he can tap into abilities that heighten his battle prowess, allow him to wield short bursts of energy, or "phase" a portion of his body, often through an unfortunate enemy.|
|Gear||The greatsword Lethendralis is his blade of choice. (See "Appearance" for more.)|
|Behind the Mask|
Fenris has traits typical of many elves: long and pointed ears, wide eyes, an angular face, and a slighter build than that of a human. While he's no taller than the average elf, he seems lanky by comparison.
What sets him apart is also the very thing that makes him a hunted man; much like a spider's web, lyrium tattoos range the length of Fenris' body, starting below his lower lip and spreading down his neck, arms, and chest. Where exactly they stop isn't clear, hidden behind the bulk of his armor.
Dark and jagged, this armor is reinforced with lyrium. The tips of his gauntlets curl into something like claws, cruel and undoubtedly painful when making impact with (or through) flesh.
The years have left Fenris decidedly bitter and angry in equal parts. While they make him difficult to get along with and difficult to get to know, these characteristics are also his driving force. He doesn't plan ahead or analyze; Fenris follows the strength of his emotions, leaping first and dealing with the fallout later.
As of yet, his attitude affects no one but himself. He prefers his solitude and usually only makes contact with those helping him against the slavers that continue to dog him.
Without a doubt, his treatment at the hands of Tevinter mages has colored his perception beyond repair. There are no shades of grey for him -- and no argument will convince him otherwise.
What Fenris knows of his past is, sadly, very lacking indeed; the process that bound lyrium to his flesh stripped him of his memories and left a blank slate of a bodyguard for Danarius to do with as he wished. Since then, the only memories are that of long days and tiresome nights spent at the side of his master, standing guard as he slept or entertained guests -- or fighting his battles.
Whether it was an accurate display of Danarius' influence or simple paranoia, the magister's enemies seemed to be many in number, and those that chose to challenge Danarius found themselves face-to-face with Fenris instead, a buffer to the conflict as the mage rained down foul magic from afar. These power struggles seemed to crop up anywhere and everywhere, sometimes taking them abroad to settle petty feuds, winning with brute force and vengeance what they couldn't with social graces and politics.
It was during one of these trips that things began to change.
The battle was a loss, Danarius forced into retreat, and with the ship already at full capacity, there was nothing to be done for it; Fenris was left behind, on his own for the first time since he could recall, and injured at that. It was the Fog Warriors that nursed him back to health and gave him his first glimpse of life outside of servitude, a chance at free will. He lived as they did, learned as they did, and found himself placing genuine trust in these noble individuals, a peaceful sense of brotherhood he hadn't otherwise known.
And it was abruptly taken from him when Danarius returned to reclaim his lost "property," easily finding Fenris and reasserting his will. Perhaps it was resignation, or perhaps it was the work of magic -- but Fenris turned on the Fog Warriors and returned with Danarius.
The renewed obedience was a temporary thing, the wheels of dissent already turning. Fenris was restless, resentful, and soon actively sought escape from Danarius.
He was on the run for years since then, only recently seeking refuge in Ferelden. The slavers were still on his heels, undoubtedly, but if Fenris had his way, this would be the final stand.