"I think I can take out about 3 of you before you 'slaughter us' and I just decided on which 3. You are number 1. Congratulations!"Origin Story
She lived in a far northern town of Rivain, high on the mountains inland. Her mother taught her skill with knives, even from a young age, until the patterns of blade-work come to her with the grace of a dance. Sadly, Mireia’s mother died when she was 12 and due to an unfortunate meeting and common acquaintance, she was fostered into the care of a Qunari. While technically a Tal-Vashoth, she still tried to force the roles of the Qun onto Mireia.
As part of her teaching, she picked up some small pieces of Qunlat and was at the age at which the Tamassran saw that she should be taking her specific role in life. Whether by forgetting, or crafty avoidance of the topic, Mireia claims that she doesn’t remember much of this time, only that she very quickly learned she had to get away from it. Within a few months of her mother’s death, she was alone and on the run only to be captured again and pulled back into the Tamassran’s grasp.
Digging into her own stubbornness, she waited, patiently learning how to be unseen by watching the thieves in the market place. Then, after a few more months she escaped again, this time with a plan. She left the town quickly and travelled south to the busier trading ports near the coast where it was much easier to get lost in the crowd.
Yet, when she felt she had gained her independence she found a seer, not much older than her mother had been, called Dalia. This Seer had apparently been looking out for her, even while leaving her to her own devices. Through their difficult, stilted relationship in the beginning, Mireia began to see Dalia as a foster parent, never a replacement for her mother but a kindly friend at least. Mireia stayed with her for some years, in that time she learned the reading of tarot cards but it was clear that the magic of the older woman was something that Mireia did not have. Instead, she honed her skills in the markets, learning to look out for herself and, on occasion, boosting the income of the Seer by pick pocketing and training further with her mother’s blades. If they deserved it.
What youthful fear she had carried towards the Qunari that had driven her away, the distress of feeling forced into a set path she hadn’t chosen, was turned to hatred by the Dalia, who taught her own prejudices against the invaders. Instead Mireia spent her teenage years safe in the surrounding of hedge magic and enchantment.
In the peculiar way Dalia had of understanding Mireia, sometimes better than she did herself, when she turned 18 they parted ways with no argument, simply an acceptance that it was time. As a parting gift, Dalia wove an enchantment and gave Mireia her face tattoo. The magical ink allows it to move and to some extent she can control the marks across her cheek, though they often move with no obvious pattern. However the compass around her eye always stays, a pendulum swinging seemingly at random.
She moved west, to Dairsmuid, the centre of most trade with Antiva and further foreign nations. She was able to talk her way into gaining contacts quickly, and this time, without a plan in mind, she found herself developing quite a trade foundation. She took to moving, gathering trinkets and passing them on to best advantage, gaining favour and forming stronger agreements. Using the tricks and deals she had learned while spending the last few years on the streets of a port town very unlike the one she had first been born in. There were some sharp learning curves even then.
It has been almost 15 years since then, and Mireia has since become quite adept at what she does, haggling, charming and always getting the best end of the deal. Yet she chooses to leave and head west. Out of Rivain, past Antiva, she heads further than ever before into Nevarra. Depending on who asks she might tell them that she had to leave due to an uncomfortable situation with a fellow trader. She might say that she simply felt the need to explore, a wanderlust that might lead to unexpected, and lucrative, treasures.
However the truth is that it may not be something she’s running away from but rather towards. One mystery of her life she has never explored. The fact that Mireia had never known her father had never held her back, but it had always been a question, lingering in her mind. She remembered her mother saying he had been from Western Thedas (of course west is subjective, considering a Rivaini perspective) and not much more on the matter. All she knows is, he might still be alive. She might yet have family across the sea.
Mireia has an athletic frame typical of a Rivaini diet combined with a Rivaini lifestyle. Her skin is sun kissed to a variety of darker more ruddy shades depending on the season. Hair wise, Mireia tends to wear an asymmetrical style, her left temple shaved bare leaving her hair long on the right side and out of her eyes. Looking out of a pair of light brown eyes, her face has a noble bearing, decorated by a strange moving tattoo. No-one ever sees it moving, seemingly enchanted to flitter about exactly in the blink of an eye. On dark nights it emits a feint blue glue, especially about the compass mark, which never moves, spare for the compass hand.
Mireia is the quick thinker and fast talker. Considered a better trader than a diplomat, that which she cannot haggle, she steals without too much moral qualms. Still living by the code that Dalia instilled in her, she judges her victims closely, making sure that only those that are deserving are left in ruin.
Secretive, she can weave a thousand tall tales to cover her past, often with a hint of truth. However she is still a true Rivaini and the wander lust is strong. Especially when it includes treasure!
Mireia is proficient with the dual blades, expanding on the lessons taught by her mother regarding dual styles. With a strong focus on speed over strength, she aims to overcome foes with a flurry of seeking attacks that make a mockery of armour.
- Wayward father.
- A place in the Qun.