Inquisitor

Inquisitor Sarthanos Mahariel-Amell
Alternate Leader of the Inquisitifon, Half-Dalish, Sub-leader of Halamshiral, "Herald of Andraste"

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Deceptive, sarcastic but hard at reading sarcasm, flirty and cunning, he is at the lead of the Inquisition; and follows along with Iron Bull And Cassandra on his free time, or other dragons to other clans on peaceful missions. It is his job to make sure that the one he is caring for comes back safe, and to make sure other clans don't try to pull anything when they arrive. His size and demeanor help with that greatly. His strangely soft and angular face seems to be set in fine bronze, his icy gaze piercing and unwavering even in the face of conflict. His presence alone is usually enough to deter fights, inside and outside of the Inquisition's area of control.

Though had no desire to lead, he saw nobody was stepping up to the task and considered; if nobody has elected to do his task he might as well elect himself to that position. He and his clan had elected to go to the conclave and so that is where he decided to make his mark. After finding himself at the conclave which included the death of Divine Justinia and his deliverance and almost death in and now from the Shade. Following that, he seemed to be plagued by a glowing green anchor that ebbs away on his hand. He had been taken momentarily as a hostage by Cassandra, slowly piecing out what all had gone on. He had unassumingly been titled as the 'Herald of Andraste' and it seemed to stick, from that day forward, even if he wasn't truly Elvhenan, or even Andrastian, really. He begrudgingly accepted the religious sanctity of his title and the faith that the inhabitants of Thedas had instilled in him.

Skilled in premeditated and extended fights, he's built for brute force and tactical maneuvers. His style of fighting is to make sure the fight doesn't turn in the foe's favor; because in limited and short-ranged confrontations his partner Inquisitor Altheare Lavellan II is much more adept.

A dreamer, a cheeky bas*ard with terrible puns and wit sharp enough to slice the skin. Does have quite the affection for magic and mages, often talking for hours on end about magic. Easiest way to woo him is through his stomach (he has an affection for any sort of meat. Rarely touches vegetables oddly..). Has the most prominent dislike to fish and seafood the world has ever known,.

A trim and tall frame, thicker hips, almost always pouty lips which seem like they're always frowning. Pointy ears that tip up slightly, a small and quite royal nose with fairly small nostrils. Thin hands with extremely small fingertips but extremely large hands and feet. Pillowy behind, squishy cheeks and hair that is neatly braided back into a tight bun. His eyes are a stark whitish blue with a gloriously caramelline skincolor and his flower-like vahallasin. Has legs for days and eyelashes to die for. You'd think he'd be built for something else aside from being a Reaver.