Emilia of CamlornJul 13, 2014Jul 13, 2014 at 01:53 PM
#1
@Lord_Varus
Name: Irileth Dres, also known as simply Iri among her friends and close associates.
Race: Dark Elf (Dunmer)
Age: 26-ish
Birthsign: Shadow
Birth Place: Kragenmoor, Stonefalls, Morrowind
Class: Nightblade
Allegiance: Morag Tong, closely followed by her sister Ivela and selected few she considers friends. Devout follower of Mephala, patron deity of her order.
Character: optimistic, determined, occasionally mischievous, some may even say flirty. However she is known to be a cold, calculating, emotionless and even merciless to those she considers her enemies (be it contract or otherwise). She's a master infiltrator, skilled in the art of stealth, subterfuge, negotiation, seduction, and can be considered a masterful actor (and liar, if needed). Only those close to her can determine when she's being sincere in what she expresses.
Equipment: plain Dunmer leather armor, made in the darker colors of Morag Tong, a pair of curved daggers and a throwing knife.
Flair: Irileth is what any would expect a Dunmer female to look like: medium height, slender build, deep-auburn hair down to her shoulders, usually tied up in a simple ponytail. The only feature that makes her stand out from the crown are her eyes of dark, steely-gray color so untypical for her people. Has an old bitemark on her right shoulder, a memory of why one should beware meeting an angry nix hound.
Rumors: apart from being a daughter of the counselor Nelvan Dres, perhaps the most notorious slaver of the Morrowind and scourge of both Khajiity and Argonian people, Irileth had earned a reputation of being fiercely independent. There are some who believe that the girl had the daring to oppose her father by releasing some of her family's slaves. She was meant to be married to one of Nelvan's distant cousins but the weding never happened as the counselor took a sharp blade to the heart, and both of his daughters seemed to vanish from the estate in all the commotion of the aftermath. Her oldest brother, Omin Dres assumed the seat of his father shortly after. Irileth herself appeared in Mournhold shortly after, but this time as a recognized member of the Morag Tong, a secretive order of the assassins that was well known throughout the Morrowind and beyond.
Background: Irileth was born into the family of Nelvan Dres, a second counselor of the Great House Dres of Morrowind on the 2nd of Frostfall, 2E 556. It was a troublesome time for her people. Having just repelled an Akaviri invasion, a newborn Pact struggled to maintain the unity among it's people, with the past enmities running deep within their blood. Her father was a staunch traditionalist, fiercely opposing the release of slave Khajiit and Argonian people in order to bolster their forces. While Nelvan could tolerate the brutish Nords, even if barely so, he could never reconcile the idea of treating the former slaves as their equals. He was one of the very few Dunmer Lords at the time who still clang to his slaves as a main source of income.
As the influence of the Pact grew, counselor Nelvan became less and less popular among his fellow nobles, as much for his opposition to the Pact as it was for his growing wealth. As such, Irileth and her sister Ivela grew up in the atmosphere of constant under-carpet infighting and subterfuge, even among their own house. What was truly amazing, though, is that young Irileth felt a deep sympathy for her father's slaves, even more so as the ideas of equality began to spread throughout the Ebonheart Pact. She witnessed herself the immense, pointless cruelty of her own father towards these people, even though they had done nothing to wrong him. Their only fault was in having fur or scales instead of ash-colored skin of a Dunmer. Spending a large amount of time, and even risking being caught by her older brother Omin, Irileth often smuggled food and medicine to the needy in the slave pens, and it wasn't long before an adventurous Dunmer teen became a welcome guest among the very people who should have hated her for her family's wrongdoing. As the years went by though, her father became even more severe in his treatment of Khajiit slaves than ever before. Irileth was doing all she could to lighten her father's yoke but to no avail. Suspecting that someone might be helping his slaves, Nelvan made sure that all the sorage rooms in the estate were guarded at all times, while he and the guard captain had the keys. Irileth knew that she was playing with fire, but she could not stand by and watch her new found friends suffer. One night, she stole the key from her father's dresser and made her way into the storehouse. Thankfully, the guards were drunk as usual and did not notice a slander Dunmer woman making her way through the shadows. With years of constant practice, Irileth had become quite an adept when it came to stealth. She also became quite an artful liar, having to make up the convincing excuses for her nightly disappearances from her chambers on the spot. Little she knew that things were about to take turn for the worse.
During the time she spent among the slaves in the estate, she befriended Fa'aasha, and old Khajiit who never lost his spirit, even in the face of harshest trials. He's courage in standing up for his fellow slaves in the face of cruel masters was a stark contrast to the lies and hypocrisy of the Dunmer upper class, and Irileth could not help but feel drawn to him. In essence, it was Fa'aasha who had become the unlikeliest father-figure for young Dunmer. His tales of his home land Elsweyr had fascinated Irileth since her childhood, slowly turning into a desire to explore the world outside the dark walls of her family nest... After she managed to acquire the key, Irileth managed to bring in a small amount of medical supplies into the slave pens. Three Khajiit workers from the stables were scourged earlier on today by the order of Nelvan for some imaginary offense. If nothing else, the salve should ease the suffering of those poor souls... It wasn't long after when she heard a clank of metal accompanied by alarmed voices. Having just exited the slave pens, she hid behind a column while a company of armed guards carrying torches marched past her, heading towards the pens. And they were lead by her father.
With a mix of worry and outright terror she followed them, only to be spotted by the guard captain. When brought before her father Irileth put on her usual cold, expressionless mask she reserved for the official occasions. She did not flinch under her father's heavy gaze, and was about to explain herself when her father moved her aside, making his way into the pens and motioning the guards to follow... Irileth felt the blood in her veins go cold when the guards dragged the Khajiit slaves into the courtyard... along with the box of healing salve she brought to them earlier. Making his way towards the group of slaves hurdled together in the crisp night air, Nelvan asked in a low growl who was responsible for it. When no answer followed, he drew his curved ebony blade and sunk it into the nearest slave, a small Khajiit female who sunk to the ground with a muffled cry of pain, painting the polished obsidian of the yard in crimson. Irileth's perfect mask was shuttered that very moment, pure terror written all over her face, her body quivering. When her father asked again, she made a small movement forward when a single look from Fa'aasha made her pause in her tracks. The old Khajiit shook his head ever so slightly, his look and expression clearly conveying his message - Don't. Taking a step forwad, Fa'aasha kneeled before Nelvan, taking the blame onto himself. When the soldiers dragged the Khajiit into the deeper dungeons of the estate Irileth can barely maintain her composure, fear mixed with guilt rolling through her as she made her way into her chamber...
The following morning she was woken up by a howling cry coming from a dozen people. With great sense of dread she made her way into the courtyard. What she saw there had made her sick to her very stomach... The heads of all three wounded stable workers were placed on the pikes in front of the slave pens, with a grayish-white fur stretched wide on the rack next to them. Grayish-white fur. Fa'aasha's fur... Non noticing anyone on her way as she run across the castle back into her chambers, Irileth slammed the door shut before collapsing onto the bed and burying her face in the sheets, letting out a cry of pain and anger. This was a breaking point in her life. She knew she could not continue like that. Born into the house Dres she was destined to become one of the richest and powerful Dunmer matrons in the province. Yet that was never to be, now even less than ever. The very same night, Irileth broke into the armory, picked up a suit of leather armor commonly worn by her family's guards and mercenaries. Choosing a pair of curved daggers, she fastened them on her hips as she made her way towards the stables, always sticking to the shadows. Finding her horse, ironically named after the Great Prophet Veloth, she made her way towards the massive archway of the city gate. Taking one last look to the place she once called home, Irileth rode into the night hoping that her road will never bring her here, ever again...
Little did she knew that her father Nelvan was watching his eldest daughter's escape from the balcony of his estate, with a dark smirk on his face... Only a few months later, Irileth was found by her father's mercenaries and forcefully brought back to Kragenmoor. When brought before her father, she listened as he went on about how much he was disappointed in her, how much did she failed to uphold her family's name. All the while Irileth was regarding him with a cold, hateful glare. When he went on about meddling with the "lower races" and thus dishonoring herself, she could restrained herself no longer and spat at the Nelvan's face... For which he rewarded her with a slap across her face, sending her flying onto the floor. Wiping the blood from her broken lip, she regarded the man with a glare of purest hatred. If only she could get her hands on her weapons... All the while Nelvan glared back at her, his face red with indignation. Soon however, his face turned to the one of triumph as he informed his wayward daughter that in less than a week's time she will be married to his distant cousin. While he dropped the news, Nelvan watched with great deal of joy how Irileth's face slowly turned pale as anger gave place to panic...
Under the orders of her father she was locked in her old chambers, with a double shifts of guards posted right outside her door. Listening in to their conversations Iri had learned that her sister had taken after her, apparently. She even had the daring to oppose Nelvan directly, to no avail of course but it did not mattered. Little Ivela finally decided which side she was on, and that was the only comforting news to Irileth. As the dreaded date of her arranged wedding approached, the nagging sense of fear slowly grew into an all out panic. However Nelvan didn't take into account the experience that a month of traveling the wilds of Stonefalls brought to Irileth. She was no stranger to scaling dangerous cliffs out in the wild, why would castle walls be so different? Cutting the long skirt of her dress to a more manageable length with a small knife she managed to smuggle along with her, Irileth waited anxiously for the nightfall. When the torches were lit across the courtyard, she finally decided that it's time. Carefully climbing out of the narrow window of her bedroom, she slowly moved along the decorative balustrade towards a larger hallway window. Being only a few steps away from it, Irileth made a final push towards it when rock beneath her feet cracked. She felt herself slipping, and a cold fear slowly spread along her body. Before she knew it, however, a leather-clad hand gripped her wrist tightly, pulling her into the archway of the window with a seeming ease. Landing on a floor in a rather awkward fashin, Irileth quickly spun around to face the stranger, her heart pounding in her chest. Her rescuer was a Dunmer, that much she could tell right away. He was tall, well build, his muscular figure clearly visible even under the dark leather armor covering his body. His face however was hidden by a mask which stranger wore under the hood, revealing nothing of his face but his dark red eyes which now regarded her with a curious gaze. A pair of long curved blades on his belt clearly showed that he meant his business. This man was not one of her father's guards, this much was obvious. But if not, who was he, and more importantly - what was he doing here?
Two guards had made their way into the hallway, no doubt attracted by the commotion her near-fall must have made. Without uttering a single word stranger turned to face the guards, his hands crossed on his chest in a seemingly careless fashion. The guards demanded to drop his arms, but hooded figure remained as he was, silent and unmovable. First guard charged in, only to be disarmed by a masterful strike of the stranger's hand, simultaneously landing his knee in the guard's gut, sending him flying on the floor. Second mercenary wasted no time and charged in right after his fallen comrade. This time stranger drew his blades, and a sound of clashing steel soon filled the air. While hooded man did not seemed to have any trouble parrying the attacks on Nelvan's mercenary, he did not have the opportunity to strike either, right until his opponent made a fatal slip in his attack. Putting all his weight into his strike hoping to finally breach the hooded man's impenetrable defense, guard was not ready when his attack was parried by a curved blade and drawn sideways, while second blade was sunk deep into the mercenary's chest. What the hooded men did not seen, however, was that the first guard he disarmed a moment earlier had gotten up from the floor, clenching a small dagger in his hand... Her hands acted before her head, and before Irileth could fully comprehend what she just had done, her own dagger was launched from her hand. With a hissing noise it flew towards the target, embedding itself in the guard's neck. With a gurgling sound he dropped his weapon, clenching his bleeding throat while he fell to the floor. Sharply turning around to face his attacker, the hooded man paused in shock as he watched the corpse in front of him, with a dagger sticking out of his neck. Shaking himself off, he bent down to pull the blade off, then turning to face Irileth who was still in shock from what just happened...
Helping her to get back to her feet, the man finally spoke. As it turned out, her father's arrogance had finally exceeded the patience of the leaders of the Pact, and a writ of execution has being issued by the Morag Tong. Morag Tong... A notorious order of assassins, devoted to Mephala. They were well known within the boundaries of the Pact, and even beyond... And now she, Irileth Dres, had just murdered one of her father's guards while aiding a man who was here to deal with him. To her surprise, the hooded man knew exactly who she was. Even more, after a long and rather awkward pause, he offered her to follow him. Still shaken by the events of the last few minutes, she followed him without any question. As it turned out, he lead her directly to the castle armory. Hinting that she might want to change into something more practical, he pointed towards the racks of various armor. Not fully understanding what's going on, Irileth hurried to put on a familiar suit of leather armor before turning back to face the hooded figure who, to her complete surprise, drew a long curved dagger from his belt and handed it to her. When she finally raised a question as to why, his answer sent shivers down her spine. This man offered her a way out of her prison, a way out of the life that was set before her. He promised freedom to choose her own fate. After a short pause while he studied her with a calculating look in his eyes, the hooded man made another proposal. He offered her to join him. Join his organization. He offered her a chance to prove herself, here and now. All she has to do is to complete the contract. A contract on her father's head... Irileth took a step back, not sure what to say in this situation. Despite his cruel demeanor, Nelvan was her father. A family... When she thought of her family though, another memory came back into her mind. A sight of Fa'aasha's smile as he told the stories of his land to the young and all who gathered around the fire. The look in the Khajiit's eyes when Irileth smuggled in another portion of food and medicine. And finally, the cursed wall with a tanning rack, where Fa'aasha's skin was displayed as a trophy... Anger, buried deep within her heart finally came to the surface, and Irileth stood forward and accepted the weapon without hesitation.
The way to her father's chambers was easy. No guards were posted in this part of the estate as Nelvan was primarily using them to keep a constant watch on his slaves for any sign of rebellion. Irileth would never forget the sheer disbelief on her father's face as the walked into the room, followed by a hooded assassin. She will always remember as the grimace of anger and indignation on Nelvan's face gave place to terror as Irileth drew her weapon, only a moment before she sunk it into his heart. There was no emotion on her face, only grim determination in her eyes. Leaving the blade in the body, she stood back knowing all to well that she just crossed the point of no return. Turning back to the hooded figure she received a nod of understanding, shortly before he motioned her to follow. Irileth wanted to give her sister one last, final farewell before she leaves this dark estate for good, but she knew all to well there was no time. Guards will surely come to investigate the commotion in the estate, and they must be long gone before they have a chance to catch up. Before making their way towards the stables, Irileth made a quick stop by the slave pens. There was one unfinished business that she needed to take care of. Stepping closer to the cursed rack, Irileth allowed her hand to brush against the soft fur one last time. Channeling her magic into her hand, she created a small ball of bright flame and placed it onto the rack, engulfing it in fires. Rushing off to the slave pens, she broke the locks off, opening all of the doors. Yelling as loud as she could for the slaves to leave, Irileth run back to the stables where hooded man was already waiting her with the horses readied. They rode into the dark together, and since that day Irileth haven't set foot in that place ever again. Over the course of seven years, she became a respected member of Morag Tong, well known for her relentlessness in regards her work. Indeed, she chased down her contracts with a determination of a nix hound, silently enjoying that fact that with every completed writ of execution, the wold looses one more man to taint it with their foul deeds. On top of that, Irileth always takes extra care to avoid needless bloodshed as it is the way for her fellow assassins. She does, however, go one step further while trying to avoid killing the guards of the target, recognizing that they are simply doing their jobs just as she does hers...
Note: the traditions of Morag Tong play an important role in Irileth's character. For those who aren't fully familiar with the guild, here's the good source of information: http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Morag_Tong
Name: Irileth Dres, also known as simply Iri among her friends and close associates.
Race: Dark Elf (Dunmer)
Age: 26-ish
Birthsign: Shadow
Birth Place: Kragenmoor, Stonefalls, Morrowind
Class: Nightblade
Allegiance: Morag Tong, closely followed by her sister Ivela and selected few she considers friends. Devout follower of Mephala, patron deity of her order.
Character: optimistic, determined, occasionally mischievous, some may even say flirty. However she is known to be a cold, calculating, emotionless and even merciless to those she considers her enemies (be it contract or otherwise). She's a master infiltrator, skilled in the art of stealth, subterfuge, negotiation, seduction, and can be considered a masterful actor (and liar, if needed). Only those close to her can determine when she's being sincere in what she expresses.
Equipment: plain Dunmer leather armor, made in the darker colors of Morag Tong, a pair of curved daggers and a throwing knife.
Flair: Irileth is what any would expect a Dunmer female to look like: medium height, slender build, deep-auburn hair down to her shoulders, usually tied up in a simple ponytail. The only feature that makes her stand out from the crown are her eyes of dark, steely-gray color so untypical for her people. Has an old bitemark on her right shoulder, a memory of why one should beware meeting an angry nix hound.
Rumors: apart from being a daughter of the counselor Nelvan Dres, perhaps the most notorious slaver of the Morrowind and scourge of both Khajiity and Argonian people, Irileth had earned a reputation of being fiercely independent. There are some who believe that the girl had the daring to oppose her father by releasing some of her family's slaves. She was meant to be married to one of Nelvan's distant cousins but the weding never happened as the counselor took a sharp blade to the heart, and both of his daughters seemed to vanish from the estate in all the commotion of the aftermath. Her oldest brother, Omin Dres assumed the seat of his father shortly after. Irileth herself appeared in Mournhold shortly after, but this time as a recognized member of the Morag Tong, a secretive order of the assassins that was well known throughout the Morrowind and beyond.
Background: Irileth was born into the family of Nelvan Dres, a second counselor of the Great House Dres of Morrowind on the 2nd of Frostfall, 2E 556. It was a troublesome time for her people. Having just repelled an Akaviri invasion, a newborn Pact struggled to maintain the unity among it's people, with the past enmities running deep within their blood. Her father was a staunch traditionalist, fiercely opposing the release of slave Khajiit and Argonian people in order to bolster their forces. While Nelvan could tolerate the brutish Nords, even if barely so, he could never reconcile the idea of treating the former slaves as their equals. He was one of the very few Dunmer Lords at the time who still clang to his slaves as a main source of income.
As the influence of the Pact grew, counselor Nelvan became less and less popular among his fellow nobles, as much for his opposition to the Pact as it was for his growing wealth. As such, Irileth and her sister Ivela grew up in the atmosphere of constant under-carpet infighting and subterfuge, even among their own house. What was truly amazing, though, is that young Irileth felt a deep sympathy for her father's slaves, even more so as the ideas of equality began to spread throughout the Ebonheart Pact. She witnessed herself the immense, pointless cruelty of her own father towards these people, even though they had done nothing to wrong him. Their only fault was in having fur or scales instead of ash-colored skin of a Dunmer. Spending a large amount of time, and even risking being caught by her older brother Omin, Irileth often smuggled food and medicine to the needy in the slave pens, and it wasn't long before an adventurous Dunmer teen became a welcome guest among the very people who should have hated her for her family's wrongdoing. As the years went by though, her father became even more severe in his treatment of Khajiit slaves than ever before. Irileth was doing all she could to lighten her father's yoke but to no avail. Suspecting that someone might be helping his slaves, Nelvan made sure that all the sorage rooms in the estate were guarded at all times, while he and the guard captain had the keys. Irileth knew that she was playing with fire, but she could not stand by and watch her new found friends suffer. One night, she stole the key from her father's dresser and made her way into the storehouse. Thankfully, the guards were drunk as usual and did not notice a slander Dunmer woman making her way through the shadows. With years of constant practice, Irileth had become quite an adept when it came to stealth. She also became quite an artful liar, having to make up the convincing excuses for her nightly disappearances from her chambers on the spot. Little she knew that things were about to take turn for the worse.
During the time she spent among the slaves in the estate, she befriended Fa'aasha, and old Khajiit who never lost his spirit, even in the face of harshest trials. He's courage in standing up for his fellow slaves in the face of cruel masters was a stark contrast to the lies and hypocrisy of the Dunmer upper class, and Irileth could not help but feel drawn to him. In essence, it was Fa'aasha who had become the unlikeliest father-figure for young Dunmer. His tales of his home land Elsweyr had fascinated Irileth since her childhood, slowly turning into a desire to explore the world outside the dark walls of her family nest... After she managed to acquire the key, Irileth managed to bring in a small amount of medical supplies into the slave pens. Three Khajiit workers from the stables were scourged earlier on today by the order of Nelvan for some imaginary offense. If nothing else, the salve should ease the suffering of those poor souls... It wasn't long after when she heard a clank of metal accompanied by alarmed voices. Having just exited the slave pens, she hid behind a column while a company of armed guards carrying torches marched past her, heading towards the pens. And they were lead by her father.
With a mix of worry and outright terror she followed them, only to be spotted by the guard captain. When brought before her father Irileth put on her usual cold, expressionless mask she reserved for the official occasions. She did not flinch under her father's heavy gaze, and was about to explain herself when her father moved her aside, making his way into the pens and motioning the guards to follow... Irileth felt the blood in her veins go cold when the guards dragged the Khajiit slaves into the courtyard... along with the box of healing salve she brought to them earlier. Making his way towards the group of slaves hurdled together in the crisp night air, Nelvan asked in a low growl who was responsible for it. When no answer followed, he drew his curved ebony blade and sunk it into the nearest slave, a small Khajiit female who sunk to the ground with a muffled cry of pain, painting the polished obsidian of the yard in crimson. Irileth's perfect mask was shuttered that very moment, pure terror written all over her face, her body quivering. When her father asked again, she made a small movement forward when a single look from Fa'aasha made her pause in her tracks. The old Khajiit shook his head ever so slightly, his look and expression clearly conveying his message - Don't. Taking a step forwad, Fa'aasha kneeled before Nelvan, taking the blame onto himself. When the soldiers dragged the Khajiit into the deeper dungeons of the estate Irileth can barely maintain her composure, fear mixed with guilt rolling through her as she made her way into her chamber...
The following morning she was woken up by a howling cry coming from a dozen people. With great sense of dread she made her way into the courtyard. What she saw there had made her sick to her very stomach... The heads of all three wounded stable workers were placed on the pikes in front of the slave pens, with a grayish-white fur stretched wide on the rack next to them. Grayish-white fur. Fa'aasha's fur... Non noticing anyone on her way as she run across the castle back into her chambers, Irileth slammed the door shut before collapsing onto the bed and burying her face in the sheets, letting out a cry of pain and anger. This was a breaking point in her life. She knew she could not continue like that. Born into the house Dres she was destined to become one of the richest and powerful Dunmer matrons in the province. Yet that was never to be, now even less than ever. The very same night, Irileth broke into the armory, picked up a suit of leather armor commonly worn by her family's guards and mercenaries. Choosing a pair of curved daggers, she fastened them on her hips as she made her way towards the stables, always sticking to the shadows. Finding her horse, ironically named after the Great Prophet Veloth, she made her way towards the massive archway of the city gate. Taking one last look to the place she once called home, Irileth rode into the night hoping that her road will never bring her here, ever again...
Little did she knew that her father Nelvan was watching his eldest daughter's escape from the balcony of his estate, with a dark smirk on his face... Only a few months later, Irileth was found by her father's mercenaries and forcefully brought back to Kragenmoor. When brought before her father, she listened as he went on about how much he was disappointed in her, how much did she failed to uphold her family's name. All the while Irileth was regarding him with a cold, hateful glare. When he went on about meddling with the "lower races" and thus dishonoring herself, she could restrained herself no longer and spat at the Nelvan's face... For which he rewarded her with a slap across her face, sending her flying onto the floor. Wiping the blood from her broken lip, she regarded the man with a glare of purest hatred. If only she could get her hands on her weapons... All the while Nelvan glared back at her, his face red with indignation. Soon however, his face turned to the one of triumph as he informed his wayward daughter that in less than a week's time she will be married to his distant cousin. While he dropped the news, Nelvan watched with great deal of joy how Irileth's face slowly turned pale as anger gave place to panic...
Under the orders of her father she was locked in her old chambers, with a double shifts of guards posted right outside her door. Listening in to their conversations Iri had learned that her sister had taken after her, apparently. She even had the daring to oppose Nelvan directly, to no avail of course but it did not mattered. Little Ivela finally decided which side she was on, and that was the only comforting news to Irileth. As the dreaded date of her arranged wedding approached, the nagging sense of fear slowly grew into an all out panic. However Nelvan didn't take into account the experience that a month of traveling the wilds of Stonefalls brought to Irileth. She was no stranger to scaling dangerous cliffs out in the wild, why would castle walls be so different? Cutting the long skirt of her dress to a more manageable length with a small knife she managed to smuggle along with her, Irileth waited anxiously for the nightfall. When the torches were lit across the courtyard, she finally decided that it's time. Carefully climbing out of the narrow window of her bedroom, she slowly moved along the decorative balustrade towards a larger hallway window. Being only a few steps away from it, Irileth made a final push towards it when rock beneath her feet cracked. She felt herself slipping, and a cold fear slowly spread along her body. Before she knew it, however, a leather-clad hand gripped her wrist tightly, pulling her into the archway of the window with a seeming ease. Landing on a floor in a rather awkward fashin, Irileth quickly spun around to face the stranger, her heart pounding in her chest. Her rescuer was a Dunmer, that much she could tell right away. He was tall, well build, his muscular figure clearly visible even under the dark leather armor covering his body. His face however was hidden by a mask which stranger wore under the hood, revealing nothing of his face but his dark red eyes which now regarded her with a curious gaze. A pair of long curved blades on his belt clearly showed that he meant his business. This man was not one of her father's guards, this much was obvious. But if not, who was he, and more importantly - what was he doing here?
Two guards had made their way into the hallway, no doubt attracted by the commotion her near-fall must have made. Without uttering a single word stranger turned to face the guards, his hands crossed on his chest in a seemingly careless fashion. The guards demanded to drop his arms, but hooded figure remained as he was, silent and unmovable. First guard charged in, only to be disarmed by a masterful strike of the stranger's hand, simultaneously landing his knee in the guard's gut, sending him flying on the floor. Second mercenary wasted no time and charged in right after his fallen comrade. This time stranger drew his blades, and a sound of clashing steel soon filled the air. While hooded man did not seemed to have any trouble parrying the attacks on Nelvan's mercenary, he did not have the opportunity to strike either, right until his opponent made a fatal slip in his attack. Putting all his weight into his strike hoping to finally breach the hooded man's impenetrable defense, guard was not ready when his attack was parried by a curved blade and drawn sideways, while second blade was sunk deep into the mercenary's chest. What the hooded men did not seen, however, was that the first guard he disarmed a moment earlier had gotten up from the floor, clenching a small dagger in his hand... Her hands acted before her head, and before Irileth could fully comprehend what she just had done, her own dagger was launched from her hand. With a hissing noise it flew towards the target, embedding itself in the guard's neck. With a gurgling sound he dropped his weapon, clenching his bleeding throat while he fell to the floor. Sharply turning around to face his attacker, the hooded man paused in shock as he watched the corpse in front of him, with a dagger sticking out of his neck. Shaking himself off, he bent down to pull the blade off, then turning to face Irileth who was still in shock from what just happened...
Helping her to get back to her feet, the man finally spoke. As it turned out, her father's arrogance had finally exceeded the patience of the leaders of the Pact, and a writ of execution has being issued by the Morag Tong. Morag Tong... A notorious order of assassins, devoted to Mephala. They were well known within the boundaries of the Pact, and even beyond... And now she, Irileth Dres, had just murdered one of her father's guards while aiding a man who was here to deal with him. To her surprise, the hooded man knew exactly who she was. Even more, after a long and rather awkward pause, he offered her to follow him. Still shaken by the events of the last few minutes, she followed him without any question. As it turned out, he lead her directly to the castle armory. Hinting that she might want to change into something more practical, he pointed towards the racks of various armor. Not fully understanding what's going on, Irileth hurried to put on a familiar suit of leather armor before turning back to face the hooded figure who, to her complete surprise, drew a long curved dagger from his belt and handed it to her. When she finally raised a question as to why, his answer sent shivers down her spine. This man offered her a way out of her prison, a way out of the life that was set before her. He promised freedom to choose her own fate. After a short pause while he studied her with a calculating look in his eyes, the hooded man made another proposal. He offered her to join him. Join his organization. He offered her a chance to prove herself, here and now. All she has to do is to complete the contract. A contract on her father's head... Irileth took a step back, not sure what to say in this situation. Despite his cruel demeanor, Nelvan was her father. A family... When she thought of her family though, another memory came back into her mind. A sight of Fa'aasha's smile as he told the stories of his land to the young and all who gathered around the fire. The look in the Khajiit's eyes when Irileth smuggled in another portion of food and medicine. And finally, the cursed wall with a tanning rack, where Fa'aasha's skin was displayed as a trophy... Anger, buried deep within her heart finally came to the surface, and Irileth stood forward and accepted the weapon without hesitation.
The way to her father's chambers was easy. No guards were posted in this part of the estate as Nelvan was primarily using them to keep a constant watch on his slaves for any sign of rebellion. Irileth would never forget the sheer disbelief on her father's face as the walked into the room, followed by a hooded assassin. She will always remember as the grimace of anger and indignation on Nelvan's face gave place to terror as Irileth drew her weapon, only a moment before she sunk it into his heart. There was no emotion on her face, only grim determination in her eyes. Leaving the blade in the body, she stood back knowing all to well that she just crossed the point of no return. Turning back to the hooded figure she received a nod of understanding, shortly before he motioned her to follow. Irileth wanted to give her sister one last, final farewell before she leaves this dark estate for good, but she knew all to well there was no time. Guards will surely come to investigate the commotion in the estate, and they must be long gone before they have a chance to catch up. Before making their way towards the stables, Irileth made a quick stop by the slave pens. There was one unfinished business that she needed to take care of. Stepping closer to the cursed rack, Irileth allowed her hand to brush against the soft fur one last time. Channeling her magic into her hand, she created a small ball of bright flame and placed it onto the rack, engulfing it in fires. Rushing off to the slave pens, she broke the locks off, opening all of the doors. Yelling as loud as she could for the slaves to leave, Irileth run back to the stables where hooded man was already waiting her with the horses readied. They rode into the dark together, and since that day Irileth haven't set foot in that place ever again. Over the course of seven years, she became a respected member of Morag Tong, well known for her relentlessness in regards her work. Indeed, she chased down her contracts with a determination of a nix hound, silently enjoying that fact that with every completed writ of execution, the wold looses one more man to taint it with their foul deeds. On top of that, Irileth always takes extra care to avoid needless bloodshed as it is the way for her fellow assassins. She does, however, go one step further while trying to avoid killing the guards of the target, recognizing that they are simply doing their jobs just as she does hers...
Irileth's current look
Note: the traditions of Morag Tong play an important role in Irileth's character. For those who aren't fully familiar with the guild, here's the good source of information: http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/Morag_Tong