"The righteous stand before the darkness, and the Maker shall guide their hand."
Status Alive
Race Human
Age Middle-Age
Birth Date
Gender Female
Sexual Orientation Bisexual
Hometown Ferelden, but raised in Orlais
Residence Lothering, Ferelden
Affiliation The Maker and his bride Andraste
Occupation Chantry Lay Sister
Class Rogue
Specialization Bard
Gear (Lothering) Chantry Robes, Enchanted Daggers, Leather boots, and a beautiful amulet called the Seeker's Circle.
Behind the Mask
Player Nynuwe/Medea
Face Claim
Profile Link Here

The dream had been too vivid... too real. And the rose... What was once dead and ugly now blossomed a vivid red. A sign of hope amidst chaos and destruction. It couldn't have been a coincidence, it was surely the Maker's own wisdom reaching out to her.

But no one would believe her.

No matter. They have no right nor place to judge her. She only has the Maker to answer to. What truly worries her is the message the vision carries.

She has to leave the cloistered life. To take action against the Blight.

She cannot sit idle and let the darkspawn take over and destroy the Maker's creations. It is a call to arms, to protect. To throw one's life into the abyss, armed with only courage and faith... to fly.

Even if it means sacrificing her life of peace and contemplation, she has to do something.

But what? How? The only clue the dream gives her is that she has to jump into the abyss. Surely it is not literal. If this is truly the hand of the Maker at work, then soon she will have to make a risky decision. A decision with no guarantees... just like jumping off a cliff with no wings, hoping to find that sliver of hope, alive like a beating heart... so alive it bleeds red like a rose... so precious that you find none other like it amongst bleak gray lands.

So it's not a matter of what or how? But of... when?

"Well, look what we have here, men."

"Didn’t we spend all morning asking about a fellow with this description? And everyone said they hadn’t seen him?"

"It seems we were lied to."

Leliana has been pondering about her vision for quite some time in Dane's Refuge, effectively shutting out all noise and chatter. But for reason the voices of these two soldiers pierced through her trance as sharp and cold as daggers. She quickly stood up and walked towards the source of the interruption, sensing a possible violent confrontation between patrons. She observed the scene before her, and surmised that the soldiers were simply causing unnecessary trouble again against refuges, drunk as they are. She had already heard rumors of them even killing a man for looking at them funny. Not wishing to allow such a thing occur again, she peacefully stepped in to ease tensions.

"Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."

Unfortunately, these soldiers had no respect even towards a cloistered Sister. One of them, the darker bearded one, spoke roughly out in disgust and anger, throwing a bit of spittle in her direction,

"They are more than that! Now stay out of our way! If you protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them."