|Residence||Lowtown Residential Area|
|Gear||He wears the belt, and sash, typical of a saarebas. He wears pants and a sleeveless top instead of the heavy chains and pauldrons.|
|Behind the Mask|
- Height: 7 ft. tall, shorter than the average height of an adult male Kossith
- Weight: He will never tell you.
- Eyes: soft red colored iris
- Skin: Grey
- Hair: very light grey to white. reaches around his middle back
He stands just one head taller than the average human. However, when compared to others of his race, his muscles are more sinewy, partially retaining the stocky build usually associated to Arvaraads.To any stranger observing him, Nirmoh was an odd sight. A Qunari with no war paint, and surprisingly isn't half naked. He wore a sleeveless light blue cotton shirt with golden neckline. It was tucked underneath the familiar Qunari black belt, and on top of the belt lay a golden sash. His baggy pants were a few shades of gray darker than his own skin, not too far from black itself.
His boots were tasteful, a combination of black and dark blue leathers, with a protective golden cuff atop, and strips of blue ribbons accentuated the look. His horns were cut midway short. The tips were golden capped, and the length of each horn was decorated with a blue ribbon. His hair silvery hair was worn loose, reaching the lower half of his back. On each bicep lay a golden ring across them, and his wrists were covered with protective golden bracers.
To finish the ensemble, a very dark marine blue long frock coat is worn atop his sleeveless shirt and baggy leather pants.
For self defense, a black leather strap crosses over his back and shoulders sustaining a bladed staff, easily confused with a spear. The metal length of it had engraved runes from end to end, and a wicked curved blade of steel stood at its tip.
Each Tal-Vashoth has his or her own unique reason for leaving the Qun. Yes, the Qun can dissatisfy people in that many different ways; in as many different ways people can be different. And for someone who yearned to work with closely with people, there can be nothing worse than forced isolation, and punishment without crime. Saarebas did not choose to be mage, yet he was called a 'thing', unworthy of receiving a true calling. He has never harmed anyone or broken any of the Qun's laws, yet he was imprisoned within his own body. He watched as others chose to commit crimes, and were merely imprisoned for a time, forced through a re-education from the Ben Hassrath, or extreme community service. But if he had done anything like those crimes, they would have just chopped off his head. His fellow mages thought that they deserved their fates. He thought they were just deluding themselves. Afterall, its easier to deal with punishment when you believe it is deserved.
And now through trial and fire, he stands free, and yet caught in a similar situation. Instead of just having to kill Tevinters, now he has to kill Tevinters AND Qunari. His Tal-Vashoth brother apparently couldn't think of anything better... But he could. Why leave the Qun to end up in the same place? Bas obviously have other things to do other than just do war. Why weren't his brothers and sisters trying to leave the island? You can't learn about how to live without the Qun if you can't even leave Qunari dominated lands. But more importantly, you can't do so if you can't learn to adapt to the various ways Bas live.
He wanted to move on. And you don't move on while being stuck in 5eheron trying to kill anything that moves that isn't Tal-Vashoth.
His opportunity to move on, fortunately, presented itself, not too soon after he started becoming restless. The band of Tal-Vashoth he was assigned to scout with had ambushed a band of Qunari who were presently wiping clean a band of Tevinters they themselves had caught unawares. At the end of the gory battle, he and his brothers stood to survey the damage, and realized why the band of Tevinter mages were picked out clean so easily. It were a band of Spirit Healers who were on their way to meet with the greater body of the military. Unfortunately for the Tevinters, only one from the group had survived. A frayed, injured female elf stood under a copse of trees within a protective shield. About her lay various Qunari corpses at her feet, all of them received different ways of death by magic. Burned, frozen, cursed, and crushed. Behind her, lay what most be a sorry sight for her. Two mages within her shield, but their blue lips and glazed open eyes told that they no longer held life. As they neared her, she lifted her staff higher, her breathing becoming more ragged. Growling, as Tevinters often do, she stood her ground defiantly, her amber and emerald green eyes staring at them without fear. But her knees wobbled and suddenly gave in. Blood was clearly oozing from her sides; she had sustained serious injury herself. 5til, though, her bright elven eyes maintained their unwavering gaze.
He was impressed. And before any of his brothers proceeded to finish the last of the Tevinter healers, his leader ushered a command. Don't kill the healer, capture her instead. With a trained healer within their ranks, they can heal their injured soldiers. And with a well placed blunt hit to the back of her head, she finally passed out. Once her wounds were dressed, they picked her up like a rag doll, and returned to their camp. Once there, they laid her on a makeshift cot and bound her hands and legs.
When she woke up, she was informed of her situation. 'Heal or die'. Not being foolish and unnecessarily suicidal, she obeyed. A week had passed, and saarebas had exchanged a few words with the usually quiet elf. He learned of her name, where she came from, and even gleamed a few healing lessons from her. He also seemed to be the only Tal-Vashoth she was bothered to reply to with anything more than one worded responses. And he started forming a plan in his head. If he escaped and took the elf, Medea Admeta, with him, she could show him the ways of the Bas. And so it was done. Medea accepted the offer, to become his guide in exchange of her freedom. Funny enough, as they quietly left camp during the night, the saarebas saw the Tal Vashoth leader gleam at them. But instead of alerting the rest of the camp to stop them, their leader had actually nodded in approval and turned away. It seemed their leader understood. But that was to be expected-- after all, their leader was once an ashkaari.
Once on the shores near Minrathous, instead of taking the opportunity to flee back to her city, Medea stood with him still. Medea felt she too needed to venture out. The power she held now was not enough to save her from that Qunari band; she would have died had it not been for the timely arrival of the Tal-Vashoth. And she thought it more opportunistic to try to obtain further power and knowledge from the farther corner of Thedas before returning to Tevinter. Magisters never turn down formidable mages. They don't question loyalty so doggedly as other countries do. As she finished explaining her intentions to saarebas as best as she could in broken Qunlan, she gazed at him, inspecting him from horn to toe, and gave him a rare smile.
"Other than teaching you the Common tongue, you need a name of your own. How about Nirmoh Liberius? It sounds fitting, don't you think?"