#blorbos by proxy

Background & Introduction (before the Veilguard)

To an unknowing observer, Verinius might appear to be the most Tevinter mage among Tevinter mages—at least slightly snobbish, accustomed to comfort and absolutely in love with Minrathous, or rather, the idea of the city he has cultivated in his imagination for years. The truth, however, is quite different. He comes from a small village near Marothius, deep within the Hundred Pillars, far from the empire’s beating heart. His family has owned an apple orchard for generations and while his magical talent may have elevated their status to Laetans, little has changed for them since he left for the Circle. Not that they mind—his parents and siblings take great pride in their work and are content with their peaceful life.

Veryl’s magic surfaced early—wild, untamed and far beyond what his family could hope to manage. With no other mages among them and little understanding of such power, they had few options when the inevitable summons arrived. A Tevinter child, especially one crackling with barely contained lightning, was never going to stay in a remote village. The decision was out of his parents' hands and by the time he was five, Verinius had already been sent to the Circle at Carastes. There, he trained for several years before being transferred to Minrathous at twelve, where his potential was deemed better suited to the capital. The move, however, came at a cost—Minrathous was far from home and distance meant that visits became rare, his connection to his family reduced to letters and memories.

And so Veryl spent most of his early life within the Circles, his world shaped not just by their walls but by what it meant to be a mage in Tevinter. Yet the structured pace of learning tested his patience; too slow, too rigid, never deep enough and constantly disrupted by the distractions of his peers. Carastes was more than happy to send him to Minrathous, where both his potential and his troublesome nature would become someone else’s concern. Lacking natural social graces, his background was working against him. While others fit in with ease, he often felt like he was speaking a language no one else understood—quite literally, in some cases, as his tendency to over-explain resulted in more than one awkward silence. It never stopped him from trying, much to everyone's dismay.

During his years in the Circles, few things had ever gotten under his skin, but meeting Alectris in his late teens proved to be an exception. Unfazed by his unpolished personality, she quickly became a constant thorn in his side—one he was surprised to find himself growing fond of. Eventually, a Magister recognized Verinius’ potential and claimed him as an apprentice. Verixsus brought him to his estate, pulling him into a far larger world. The rigid life of the Circle gave way to a more demanding, fluid apprenticeship, but with it came a privilege: four visits home each year instead of one. And no matter how much Minrathous holds his heart, it never truly dulled the pull of home—not that he ever spoke of it much.

Like him, Alectris left the Circle, though she chose the army instead. Over the years, their friendship became quieter; distance and duty dulling what had once been constant. He never quite stopped missing her, but life in Minrathous had a way of swallowing time and before he knew it, years had slipped away. He got along well with his master, but a mentor was no substitute for a best friend—Alec had been the only one who could truly keep up with him and he missed her. The void she left was filled by a stray cat he found on his master’s estate. Or rather, the cat found him and decided she would adopt him. From that day on, Andoralis became his ever-present shadow, named after the day she entered his life.

Eight years passed before Alectris finally left the army and returned from her deployment in Seheron. She could hardly believe what she saw. Verinius had grown utterly fixated on his cat, perhaps too much for her liking—holding entire conversations with Andoralis as if expecting her to reply and acting as if her approval was of the utmost importance. Alectris had always known he was eccentric, but this was a new level of absurd. Worse, he had begun experimenting with volatile magic and had become adept at blood magic, making no effort to hide it. His methods, however, are unusual. While others wield blood without hesitation, he could never quite bear the sight of his own. If asked, he’d simply say fresh blood gives him headaches. Instead, he collects samples with eerie calm, studying ways to preserve their potency—never considering how unnerving this might be. To him, spilt blood holds no more weight than splattered ink.

Still, his time with Magister Verixsus had done him some good—his temper had evened out, he no longer openly insulted people for their lack of magical understanding as often and he carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who had long since stopped caring whether or not people found him strange. But beneath the polish, Alectris could still see flashes of her old friend—the insufferable know-it-all, the stubborn streak a mile wide, the way he lit up when talking about something that truly fascinated him. And despite years of silence, their friendship fell back into place with ease. As if no time had passed, Alectris slipped into her old role as a constant bother and Veryl, to her great satisfaction, responded exactly as he always had—overly dramatic, easily excitable and entirely unable to get rid of her.

Veryl can most often be found surrounded by books and vials, either studying magic (the less commonly available, the better—legality is not a concern) or completing his daily tasks as a scribe and Magister’s apprentice. He has an unfortunate talent for saying precisely the wrong thing at the worst possible moment, whether through tactlessness, sheer obliviousness or a total lack of concern for social norms. His magical expertise is undeniable, specializing in practical and constructive applications of blood magic, as well as a highly destructive form of storm magic for those rare moments when force becomes necessary. He can go from zero to vaporization in less than 0.3 seconds. He's eccentric and peculiar in both his interests and his mannerisms, somehow managing to offend whoever he speaks with or embarrass himself—often at the same time. The fact that his main conversation partner is Andoralis certainly does not help his predicament.

Verinius should, by all rights, be quietly buried in books somewhere, bothering no one but his cat. Instead, thanks to Alectris and a dragon with extreme renovation ideas for Minrathous, he’s now neck-deep in the Veilguard’s chaos. Meanwhile, our poor Rook (a dwarven Warden) is left juggling world-ending threats, blighted nightmares and—because the universe clearly hates him—two more walking disasters. At this rate, Wolfram Thorne will have to save Thedas by next Tuesday or risk losing the last shreds of his sanity.

For those interested in the BG, it's a paraphrase of the codex entry art on 'Dock Town Intel: The Place Itself'. It was solely created for practice and to give V and his cat a thematically fitting bg to stand on.