Basics
Name: Sumoren Lavellan
Alias(es)/Nickname(s): Lord Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste
Age: “As old as my hair. A little older than my teeth, though.”
Sex: Male
Race: Elf
Class: Rogue
Specialization: Assassin
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Appearance
Height: 5’9”
Skin: Warm coppery brown
Eyes: Frosty blue
Hair: White, very thick, falls a little past his shoulders
Build: Willowy, long, slender, delicate
Tattoos/Scars/Markings: Intricate vallaslin over his left eye. A deep scar over the right, which bisects his eyebrow. It forks low on his cheek. There’s also a small, angled nick in his chin.
Style of Dress: Long leather coats, tall leather boots, long leather gloves, and scarves, scarves, scarves
Background
Birthplace: Free Marches
History: Sumoren was not born among the Dalish, but was raised by them. His parents, city elves (though themselves of Dalish decent) were in service to a noble household. They managed to smuggle him out to the Lavellan Clan at a very young age. As a result, Sumoren barely remembers his parents, but at once still feels some connection to his city-dwelling kin, and pity for their plight. His Dalish upbringing distances him from them, ultimately, however, and his city birth places something of a wedge between him and the Dalish. It diminished as he grew older, and became a productive member of the clan, but never entirely vanished. He took to Dalish life quickly, and gladly, finding a sort of freedom in their nomadic lifestyle, and a sense of belonging in their stories. He learned to hunt, and track, and soon became able to move in the wilds as softly as a first snowfall.
Though not possessed of any magic, he has always had a great curiosity regarding the subject, and beset the Keeper and her First with endless questions. When a childhood friend manifested magical aptitude, and was the fourth to do so in their clan, Sumoren protested his exile, vowing to defend him from Templars and demonic possession. His doggedness convinced the Keeper, and Sumoren began to seek out knowledge of magical disruption, and even Templar techniques. This searching took him, on occasion, into human cities, and he has learned to blend in there as well as an elf with vallaslin can. It has been Sumoren’s mission to defend Dalish mages, rather than allowing them to be sentenced to exile and abandonment. He liaised with other clans, seeking shelter for mages either born into their own clan, or abandoned by others, and encouraged such practices among the other clans they encountered. Sumoren’s activism, magical knowledge, and stealth, made him a natural choice to attend the Chantry conclave.
Wry as hell. An unintentional flirt. A deadly elf with a terrible gaydar. Sumoren is possessed of a raw determination, a slightly crooked sense of humour, and a general intolerance for bullshit. For all of this, he is ultimately a gentle man, more inclined to capture and release a spider instead of crushing it. Life is valuable to Sumoren, but he will not hesitate when it needs ending, either. He is constantly on the move, always busy, but part of that is his determined effort to find at least a moment for everyone. His upbringing has impressed him with a sense of ‘the clan’ and a desire to see to the wellbeing of those he includes (consciously or not) in that sphere. If that means collecting bees in a jar for Sera, or feeding spiders for Cole, then that is what he’ll do. It places a weight on his shoulders, but it’s one that he bears happily, though it can lead him to neglect himself and his own needs. It is a different heaviness than that which comes with being the Inquisitor, but a weight nevertheless.
He rides a Hart called Yew. He would have called it “You” but he has it on good authority that “‘You’ is not a name!” He had intended to kill and eat Yew, but noticed that she had imprinted on him. They’ve been together ever since. She’s as loyal a mount as any, swift as an arrow and sure of foot.
