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| Name |
Galen

| Nickname |
None

| Gender |
Male

| Age |
29

| Sexuality |
Bisexual

| Race |
Human

| Status |
Warrior

| Eye Color |
Dark brown - almost black

| Hair Color |
Dark Brown

| Height |
6’1”

| Weight |
160 lbs

| Skin Tone |
Tan

| Distinct Markings |
Galen has tribal tattoos on each side of his head. On his back is a huge dragon tattoo. Part of its head and flaming nostrils can be seen at the back of his neck. The wings of the dragon spill across his shoulders and rib cage, and the tail dips down toward the side of his left thigh.

He is also covered in various battle scars here and there, the worst of them being one deep scar down the left side of his face, just barely missing the corner of his eye, and a fairly fresh scar on the back of his right thigh where a spear went through the muscle during battle.

| Physical Description |
Galen has an intimidating appearance. His hair is shaved into a closely-cropped mohawk at all times. He almost always has somewhat of a scowl on his face, features permanently formed into a fierce look with his brows drawn and lips curved into the slightest frown. His armor is key to creating his intimidating look. Nearly his entire body is covered by his armor and it makes him appear even larger than he really is. Without the armor, he is on the thinner side, but muscular.

| Weapon(s) |
Galen fights with a polearm that was given him by his father called a bardiche. The blade itself is attached to a staff and is about two feet long. He slashes it through the air with deadly grace. At the other end of the staff is a smaller, curved blade.

| Potential Interest |
None

| Family |
Father: Goren | 71 | Deceased.
Mother: Marielle | 52 | Deceased.
Sister: Elienne | 18 | Deceased.

| Personality |
Galen is reserved. Even before the deaths of his family and tribesmen, he was more of a silent observer than one who would join in the banter of his brethren. He is a believer in the ‘words were not meant to be wasted on unimportant matters’ theory. He might have attempted to join in from time to time, but his humor had always been darker than others’, which would lead to more awkward situations whenever he tried to share a joke of his own. Since the Qunari attack on his tribe, he has traveled alone and has become accustomed to not speaking at all.

Galen hates the Qunari and has a strong distaste for mages of any kind. He takes pride in his skills as a warrior and gains an immense satisfaction when he has the chance to kill things. He will swear no fealty to anyone and refuses to tie himself down to a single master. Galen is his own man and he prefers to keep it that way.

| History |
Galen hails from Northern Seheron. He comes from a small tribe of Fog Warriors that was constantly at war with the Qunari. He grew up in the tribe and the moment he could walk, a training sword had been placed in his hand. The tribe was constantly on the move, always changing their campsite location in order to make it difficult to be found by those who hunted them.

Two years ago, a large band of Qunari came across the tribe quite by accident and a bloody battle ensued. Few survived. Galen’s father suffered a fatal wound, and thus handed his weapon down to his only son. Galen’s mother refused to leave Goren and she took up her own sword while Galen and his sister escaped. Elienne and Galen ran for days to get the Qunari beasts off their backs until they were so exhausted they could run no more. They hid deep within the jungle brush and prayed that they would not be found. While they slept, a small group of Qunari spotted them. Galen woke in time to see his sister’s throat slit and watch her lifeblood drain away. In a fit of rage, he killed three of the Qunari and injured the other two well enough that he could escape- but not without receiving an injury of his own. One of the Qunari threw a spear through his right thigh. Due to his limited skills with healing, the muscle did not heal properly, and he was left with somewhat of a limp when he walks.

Galen wandered the jungles for the next year and a half, quietly killing any Qunari that he came across. He came across other bands of Fog Warriors, but refused to join them. At last he left Seheron, bound for Ferelden. There, he wandered alone as an occasional mercenary until he heard of the battle to come at Ostagar. It had been far too long since he’d been in a true battle. So, he headed south, to take out as many darkspawn as he could, while quietly praying for death at the same time.

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