Gweneth Lavellan
Gweneth, from the Sindarin word for purity.
Age: 20 at Haven.
Class: Rogue.
Weapon of choice: Kunai (throwing knives).
Specialization: Assassin.
Alignment: Neutral Good.
Alliance: Mages.
Romance: Solas.
Though her current position would suggest otherwise, Gweneth was never quite the type to draw the attention. If anything, she repelled it. A quiet child from her very birth, she never felt the need to speak a word until the last of her parents was lost to Shem hunters, and even then she would only voice her needs to others when her six years old self could not provide for them alone.
Her childhood was a solitary one, but not as unhappy as one might think: with the support of few precious friends and a quickly developed adaptability, in her early adolescence Gweneth found her place in the clan as an hunter, her swiftness and light feet making up for the hesitation in her strokes every time she had to take an animal’s life. To these days, she still tells herself that the Gilan’nain vallaslin she bears in crimson red on her face is a good enough ad memoriam for all the innocent creatures she had and still has to kill, regardless of its most exclusive meaning.
For all that she was a curious child, she rarely showed any interest in the life outside the clan, and the thought of finding herself face to face with other races would often distress her, especially after so many of her people had begun getting caught in the middle of Mages/Templars conflicts. Given that, and considering her mild, shy nature, the decision of the Keeper to send her to the Conclave came as the biggest surprise to everyone. Nevertheless, the girl was so small she barely casted a shadow, and so silent that her presence was seldomly acknowledged when she entered a room; at least by those means, she made for the perfect infiltrator.
And, of course, despite all of the fear and the uncertainty she felt, Gweneth never backed away from the quest she was entrusted with - too selfless, yes, but this time there was more: there was the will not to fail her people’s expectations, the determination to prove her worth, the motivation she had felt for the first time now that everyone’s eyes followed her steps out of the woods, that everyone’s lips suddenly remembered her name. After all, as long as she laid low, what could possibly go wrong?