Cole doesn't have a custom title currently.
Location: No Information
Born: No Information
Website: No Information
Shipper Link: http://ttam.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=652&st=0&#entry1926
Wanted Ad: No Information
Character Age: ??
Character Pronouns: He/Him
Your Pronouns: She/Her
Joined: 6-January 18
Last Seen: Jan 19 2018, 10:52 AM
Local Time: Jan 22 2018, 08:20 PM
2 posts (0.1 per day)
( 0.11% of total forum posts )
Jan 19 2018, 10:45 AM
[dohtml]<center><div style="width: 480px; background-color: #ffffff; padding: 10px 10px 0px 10px; border: #8a6992 solid 5px; text-align: justify; font-family: Roboto; font-color: #000000; font-size: 11px; line-height: 12px;"><center><img src=https://images2.imgbox.com/d6/94/wdXjGjpu_o.gif><p><i>12 Cloudreach, 9:41</i></center><div style="width: 462px; padding: 0px 10px 10px 10px;">Haven. So many had died there, soldiers giving their lives to save, workers and civilians cut down in cold blood as they tried to flee. He had come to warn them, to help, but he had been too slow, too late. The Templars had come to hurt, red and dead, slaughtering all in their path to take The Herald, to kill her. The Elder one was very angry that she had stolen his mages. He was probably angrier now.
Many had made it to Skyhold, but so many, too many hadn't. Like Roderick, the song lifting him one last time as he believed, sorry for all he had done. There were more too, haunting, hurting, dying. He had followed so that he could help, even if he could bring them peace, even mercy as the cuts wracked their failing bodies with every heartbeat. He knew that killing was wrong, that there were other ways to help. Bandages, words of comfort as they slipped away. What about the ones who couldn't be helped, lying in agony, taking hours to die? What about then?
So cold, breath slowing, can't think, can't feel, so this is what dying feels like. I'm sorry mother, I can't, I'm sorry, I'm...dead. There was nothing more that could be done. It was too late, the bleeding too much. They needed to slow the bleeding, spiders webs to seal the wounds. He could find some, lure the flies to bring the spiders. It was too late for the boy in the armour, but maybe it would help others. First though, there were at least those who would get better, but the surgeons were busy, the healers barely having time to heal themselves. It was so loud here, but he would stay. He could help, should help. Even if they would forget him or not even see him. It didn't matter though. It was easier that way, wiping clean so that they weren't frightened by him. Or he them. Maybe.
<strong style=color:#8a6992>Rogue Speak</strong> <i style=color:#8a6992>Think Colour</i><br>@Solas
Jan 6 2018, 06:25 PM
<h2>Appears no older than 20 . compassion . rogue</h2>
<h3>fayt . 32 . gmt . pm</h3>
<div class="maincontent scroll">
Nopes, I is new :)
<ol>Race & Nationality</ol>
Spirit of Compassion - The Fade
Other Spirits maybe? The real Cole, whose form and to some extent memories he took after the latter's death, apparently had a mother, father and younger sister. Sadly, they are all deceased.
Daggers - Expert
Knife - Intermediate (tends not to use in actual combat)
Subterfuge: Subterfuge talents focus on tricky manoeuvring and deception to gain the upper hand in battle.
Specialist: Specialists rely on precision, power, and speed to overwhelm their opponents.
Assassin: As a Spirit dedicated to mercy, Cole is oddly suited to killing enemies with speed and precision. He can eliminate targets too dangerous to face directly with strikes they never even notice.
"I am the Ghost of the Spire...or I was. Before that, I was a Spirit, I lived in The Fade, reaching out to those who needed help. I soothed, salved, saved, and then they forgot and I wiped clean. I was happy. The veil is thinner in some places, not torn but less, easier to slip through. I heard a cry for help and I came through. Dark and dank, guts gripping in the dark, a captured apostate. Fists red raw and bleeding from banging on the cell door, voice hoarse and then gone from shouting. No one heard him, no one cared. The Templars had forgotten about him, left him alone to starve and to die alone in the dark. I came through to help, but I couldn't. I held his hand as he died, he whispered two words at the end. 'Thank You'. That was when I became him. Cole. Then I forgot.
There were more mages in the tower, all prisoners but not in the damp and the dark. They lived above, a gilded cage where they thought they were happy. The ones who didn't reached out to me, but I had forgotten what I was. No one saw me, and if they did they forgot. I was fading, fearing, losing myself to the dark. I wasn't real unless they wanted me to be, and there was only one time when they did. When they were hurting, hopeless, helpless, wanting everything to go away so that they didn't have to hurt any more. They wanted to die, and then they could see me. I was real! I wanted to help, so I gave them what I thought they wanted: a quick death, one last mercy, saved at last.
It was wrong, but I didn't know that. I was real, death to make myself feel alive. Rhys was a mage who could see me. He told me I was wrong, that there were other ways to help. He was my friend, my only friend, but I put him in danger. They thought he was the killer, but I couldn't help. He didn't want to know.
When he left for Adamant with the old woman and his friend Adrian, I followed them. The Lord Seeker had told Evangeline to kill them, kill Rhys if things got too sharp. He was my friend, I wanted to help, I couldn't let Evangeline kill him! I followed them to Adamant, where they found a man that a demon had made real, no longer Tranquil. It put me back into the cupboard on 'the bad day', memories I thought were my own hurting, too much guilt, too much! Rhys saved me and I went back to The Spire with them. We shouldn't have gone back.
What they found at Adamant scared the Lord Seeker and he wanted them dead. Evangeline was kind, for a Templar, and she helped the mages, the ones who cared. Adrian wanted blood, killing other mages to force the fight. Rhys wanted to escape, bleeding and helpless, I half carried him down the secret path. The Lord Seeker found us, I tried to hide Rhys, you can't have him I say, nose explodes in a shower of blood! Then he said the words that proved I wasn't real, a Demon, just another parasite that has wormed it's way into our world, feeding on the things it cannot have! Rhys couldn't even look at me. I lost him. I lost everything.
He didn't want to know me, but he lived and left with Evangeline, the woman he loved. The old woman, Rhy's mother, died so that Evangeline could live, finally free. I remembered what I was, a Spirit but not the real Cole. The Lord Seeker had hurt people. He deserved to die, and so I came and I killed him. He was right about what I was. A Demon. A monster...
I taught myself to be more like what I was, what I should be, more but less. I could feel more now, I could hear, I could help. I remembered other ways of helping, food for the hungry, a blanket for the cold. I used words to heal, and made them forget. It was easier. For me or for them? Both.
I wanted to help, but I was a Demon. I knew if I stayed with the Templars then they would kill me if I became dangerous, falling to felling. They left Val Royeaux and I followed them when they left with the new Lord Seeker. They thought he was, but he wasn't real, an Envy Demon that had taken his face. I followed them to Therinfal Redoubt."
<img src="https://images2.imgbox.com/1f/6a/RE8WuN0n_o.png" class="appimage">