Askell Weaver

A young and ambitious circle mage with a goal in life.


Askell Weaver
Circle Mage
27 years old, Male

Communication +2
Constitution +2
Cunning +4 (Arcane Lore)
Dexterity +3
Magic +4 (Primal)
Perception -1
Strength 0
Willpower +3 (Self-Discipline)

Speed: 13
Health: 25/25
Defense: 14
Armor Rating: 3 (Stress: 1)
Mana: 20/20
Spellpower: 14

Novice in Linguistics

Winter’s Grasp
Flame Blast

Light leather armour
Akell’s Staff
tent, small
traveller’s garb
oil, 5 pints
Flint and steel
2 sp

Arcane Lance______1D6+4_______+4_______16 yards
Morning Star______1D6+6_______+3_________N/A

Can speak/read trade tounge, read ancient teven, and speak/read qunlat.


Askell was taken from his parents by the circle when he was very young. He was not to remember his family, he was not to have any connection with the outside world. Even though he inquired often, he was never told about his true home; like the other young boys and girls he needed to accept the fact that this stone tower, in which he now lived, was his home. Over the course of his childhood Askell never really did accept his new home, and to compensate he took to his daily studies spectacularly. He was an administrative voice within the circle by the time he was a teenager, a role model for the young and respected by the old. Askell’s seemingly contradictory-to-his-nature ambition, which was to one day find his true home, burned brightly wthin him, fueld by the new young lads who he saw constantly being brought in from the outside. Often he was tasked with baby sitting these new arrivals and mentoring them, however, ultimately he was the one learning from them. Eventually, due to the countless hours he spent day dreaming of a life he apparently didn’t diserve, Askell accumulated 8 months worth of solitary confinement. Finally, after he was freed from the circle by a hero he had only heard tales of, inspired, he took up arms, fighting for his fellow mages. Within about 6 months after the circle’s dissintegration he forged a band of young mages who waged war on their oppressors. Unfortunately, the group met it’s end when all but two were executed by the templar. Having just barely escaped death, or worse, Askell set back out on his path as a lost man, his talent forgotten by the world, his world unknown to him, in the hope that one day he would find his true home.

There are several important historical events which effected Askell during his life…. At some point during his escepades as the leader of The Dead Mage Gang, Askell was travelling to cut off and ambush a group of Templars. Suprisingly, what the Dead Mage Gang found when they got their was a battle already taking place… The Templar they had been tracking seemed to be attacking a caravagn of mages who were losing ground quickly. Amongst them was a tough looking man, darting back and forth between Templar, carving his way through their ranks, dodging most blows, all the while ignoring every seemingly lifethreatening one took. As Askell’s reinforcements joined the battle it was already too late for most of the caravagn mages, but they did manage to finish off the Templar while aiding a bloodied rogue. The rogue, named Garnait, thanked Askell for his help, each looking at each other with respect in their eyes. In those eyes Askell could see the horrors of what Garnait survived, the past suffering, and the faint longing to belong that Askell knew so well. After being treated for his wounds Garnait exclaimed that he’d had enough of mages for one day and with that the two would-be friends departed, going back to their own adventures once more, but this was not to be their final encounter.
Around the 10th month of year 37, The Dead Mage Gang was captured by the Templar, their crimes procecuted, their lives to be ended. Askell looked on through the many cold iron bars as his fellow mages were taken from their cells one by one, never to return. It was just him and one boy left now, a very young lad, barely a teenager, who was crying quietly to himself, sitting in one of the stone corners, emersed in darkness. There wasn’t much hope left, the iron bars were unbreakable, the Templar guarding them would never allow for any attempt at magic, and he knew it, he’d been here before many times, locked away in solitary confinement, his strong heart begging his body to stay strong for it. Suddenly, out of seemingly thin air, a sword fell from the darkness, slinking past the guards’ sturdy armour into soft flesh. Blood trickled down their necks as each one fell over, a delayed reaction which make Askell’s heart stop, and then came the sound of banging metal aganst the floor which was undeniable. Garnait?! How in the world…? But there was no time for questions, soon the executioner would be back, ready to claim all their lives. – Hurry – Garnait took the keys off of the still corpses and jammed them into the cell door as Askell grabbed the boy. “We’re free, I can’t beleive it!” Cried the boy. “I was in the neiboorhood”, replied Garnait, a cheeky grin on his face, “Now let’s get somewhere safe.”… And so Garnait’s debt was repaid. The two men became friends, the boy returned to his family, and once again they departed, only this time as comrads.

Askell Weaver

The Rise of Ferelden newwaveSO6