Tal - SerushFeb 21, 2019Feb 21, 2019 at 02:03 AM
#1
Arien Su'lin
@talaufirians (both for ESO and discord)
Basic Information
Preferred Name: Arien
Age: 47
Race: Khajiit
[sub-species: suthay-raht]
Gender: Female
Affliction: None
Place of Birth: Northern Deserts of Elsweyr to a nomadic tribe
Titles: Dessert Runner [only valid for her tribe and those that knew them]
Occupation: Bard, huntress, courier (assassin, sniper, thief, spy and information broker)
Appearance
Height: 5 foot 5 inches (approx)
Eye Color: Golden-yellow
Fur Color/Pattern: Ocelot coloring and striping
Abnormalities: Beneath her fur she has quite a number of scars, the only one really visible is a long one from mid-back along the side of her spine to just above her tail. Her hands and feet are the five digit appendages similar to that of man and mer, however they have the pads similar to those of digitigrade paws.
Markings: Crimson colored 'arrow' markings that are narrow around the bridge of her nose and inside corners of her eyes, becoming wider as they reach toward her hair line.
Miscellaneous: She has three golden rings in each ear, and her hair has strands of colored glass and metal beads woven into it.
Full Description:
Arien is lithe and well muscled considering her years as a runner and archer. Her time growing up in the desert molded her figure early on and she's not once moved past it. Her fur is surprisingly silky considering her penchant for getting dusty and dirty (or even sandy) during her work. Many of the scars she bears are hidden well beneath that fur, and she has more than a few, only one of which was bad enough to remain seen even after all of these years.
Her eyes are keen and intelligent and set into a sleek, but kind, face that is starting to show signs of her age with a faintly greying muzzle and sparse strands of silver in her mane. Her hair is black and thick, twining itself into long strands almost like dreadlocks in many places, despite her keeping it as clean as her fur. Often seen in either a (rather ostentatious) outfit of red, white and black with golden coins and bells with her lute, or a set of brown and green leathers, hood and mask with her bow, quiver and daggers, Arien's fingers always remain unhindered by cloth or leather so that she may use them nimbly and also make use of her claws if necessary. She does, however, always wear the same pair of black gloves, threaded through with lines that seem to almost pulse energy...and on occasion she can be spotted in a full set of similar armor. To those in the know those leathers may be seen as suspiciously similar in style to the appearance of the dro-m'athra.
Standing at an average height, Arien is rarely seen as intimidating. Her expression is typically happy and inquisitive making her easy to approach and talk to, however, if she feels the situation deserves it (and if it won't put anything or anyone at risk) she can become quite stoic, stern, and even, yes, intimidating. Still, her more serious side is often seen while out and about in her leathers as she feels more likely to be seen as a threat that way than as a bard. She is -always- armed, though other than her claws her weapons may not always be seen, her daggers having several hiding places around her when she wears them.
Personality: If you really -really- want to know...otherwise, let her surprise you!
Abilities and Powers: A cunning sniper with bow and arrow, able to set and disarm traps, pick locks, use some minor magics in combat (primarily to snare others, strengthen the hit of her arrows, light her arrows on fire and minorly heal herself and those in a small area OR damage enemies in a small area), and pick pocket.
Also plays the lute, sings, dances, plays the harp, the flute and (very VERY rarely) play the drums. Decent alchemist, able to make various poisons (as well as their antidotes) and various other potions. She is capable with cloth and leather armor making, wood working and knows the basics of black smithing and enchanting (most proficient with leather work and wood work since she uses both to upkeep most of her gear).
Adept at sneaking through difficult areas, gathering information over time, and some forms of manipulation.
Shows some potential with soul magics.
Uses some talents she attributes to being given to her by a shadowy being she believes to be Baan Dar, including (but not limited to portals...though these are particularly fickle portals to create and open)
Associations:
Mate: Xithic
Family: Deceased. Mother: Ko'Larra, Father: Ra'Dartho, Brother: Ja'Virgas
Enemies: Xerko'Tsu (The Iron Lion), Nembris Thantus, slavers, slave masters, pretty much every altmer/Aldmeri soldier ever
Friends: Alaran, Serush (and their kitts), Jeet-Maht, Branded-by-Fire, Taylor, Tyrus, Haba'si, Hundorian, Zharra, Delphinia
Associates: Regnier Majere, Cromwell (estranged lover/former friend...frenemy?), Neetandros (similar to Cromwell)
Affiliations: The Crimson Rose, Thieves Guild, Fighter's Guild, Queen's Eye (on occasion -- assisting the two she knows in the group), Assassin's Guild (begrudgingly), House Majere (on occasion), Banescale Tribe (on occasion)
Brief Biography:
Born to the deserts of Northern Elsweyr to a nomadic tribe of hunters and merchants and couriers-for-hire, Arien was given the hopeful honorific of Daro at an early age because of her penchant for her little fingers trying to get into everything without getting caught...not that it tended to work very well when she was a child. Her training, like the training of all the kitts in their tribe, started early in the practices of navigation through the deserts. Being tested and trained in various roles in the tribe they would all apprentice to one of the skilled members of the tribe. Arien, as it happened, enjoyed (and was rather good at) hunting. While she adored her mother and her talents in healing, the kitt seemed to show very very little talent for it, try as she might. As adorable and quick-witted as she could be, she had no interest in learning the merchant's trade to use those skills. She was curious enough about the various crafters they had, but only sought to really learn from them when she wasn't doing what she really enjoyed: hunting and learning the deserts with her father, one of the leaders of the hunters.
Picking up archery quickly enough, and with a natural knack for finding her way around the land using moons, stars and sun, Arien often went out with her father or other capable mentors while scouting, hunting or (as she got old enough) running messages between small tribal camps. Little by little she would be allowed to go out on her own to catch small game, scout a little ahead of the tribe, and (as she grew near the 'mature' age of 15) even start acting as a courier to the various tribes that were well known as friends to her own. By the time she became an 'adult' at 15, Arien was shown how to apply the markings of the hunter on her fur and given the rings of the Desert Runner for her ears, marking her as one of the newest hunters/scouts and Dessert Runners (couriers) for the Sulin tribe.
As she'd grown, Arien had always heard bits of conversation from the adults of mer and men massing through the deserts, encountering other tribes of the country and leaving those territories once more...now devoid of the khajiit who had inhabited them. Sometimes the lands were sacked, the villages or camps destroyed and the dead left to rot in the sun, other times the inhabitants simply missing as if vanished. As she grew and her ears picked up (and understood) more of the conversations, Arien came to understand the meaning of slavers, and even saw the destruction left behind once or twice. So a healthy wariness of outsiders grew in her, mer and men often seen passing through the various regions while out scouting, sometimes with smatterings of other races accompanying them. Never, however, did she see any that -looked- like slaves with them. Such a thing could never reach her tribe, she was sure. Nomadic tribes were difficult to track down or get ahead of, especially in the shifting sands, after all. Sadly, her sense of security would be shattered shortly after reaching adulthood.
Returning from a short courier journey to her tribe, Arien was met with the sounds of shouting and fighting and sounds she had never once heard another sentient being make...but had heard often enough from animals she hunted: death cries. Languages she had never heard, mingled with her native Ta'agra, reached her ears long before the scent of blood, but once that hit her also it wasn't long before the sight she saw shocked her to her core. The destruction had been swift, those still fighting from her tribe were dwindling in numbers, those being subdued were struggling to get free or simply lay limp as if unconscious...and she couldn't move. Horrified, terrified, she was frozen...not even able to think. It wasn't until she realized that some of the people masquerading as Altmer soldiers had seen her and were moving toward her that she even moved to get her bow, but she had never fought another man before, let alone trained ones. The sixteen year old stood no chance, even through she fumbled to get off a few shots. Arrows, daggers...nothing would save her from her fate, and soon enough she was bound and struggling as she was hefted back to the huddled mass of hissing and growling adults and sobbing, frightened, kitts.
The slavers were cruel creatures, beating them when any misbehaved, careless of which ones had actually preformed the 'crime'. Many of the kitts died during the harsh march across the deserts toward Valenwood, their bodies left to rot in the sands along with what few adults failed to survive. Weakened, but still angry, what adults hadn't died from injuries sustained began feeling the effects of illnesses in Valenwood that had not reached the dunes of Elsweyr, or sickness brought on by sitting out in the elements during the nights (or days) when it rained. By the time the cruel trek was over, bringing them to one of the coasts of Valenwood, only a handful of the kitts remained alive, and a little over half of the adults. The illicit ship back to the Summerset Archipelago was an entirely different sort of hell. Dark, rocking, cramped, it was a terrifying experience for all the khajiit in the hold, many of whom had never even seen the ocean before. Many of the adults, shocked into states of almost feral actions, would lash out at any around them...friend or slaver, or even themselves. Infected wounds sustained from these attacks brought about more deaths to her tribal kin, and the feral ones were often put down as soon as they were noticed. By the time the ship made port only two kitts survived and under a quarter of the adults.
The light of day gave many of those left alive the urge to try and fight back once last time and avoid their fate. Outnumbered by the crew and weakened from the journey it was a foolish endeavor, and bound together Arien had no choice but to be dragged into the mess of it. In the swift moments after, the last two kitts died to trampling and misplaced attacks as the adults were subdued. Arien herself was met with a heavy knock to the head, dazing her and making her slump to the deck, dragging down the two attached to her. While none but the two kitts died, it was enough to subdue whoever of her tribe had still been fighting.
Hauled off to get 'cleaned', the parade of khajiit were sold rather swiftly on the slave markets...another mortifying experience, by the way, being devoid of most clothes so all those eyes could inspect her. She was bought, however, for a surprisingly good amount of coin by an Altmer man and woman, along with two others from her tribe. Skittish and furious by everything she'd experienced, but too weak to put up any sort of 'good fight' for her freedom, Arien and the others were taken to the manor that the couple owned. Given clothing, food, and water the group took some time to recover, all the while the other two being taught how to keep the manor and it's occupants content. Arien, however, was only taught how to behave around the masters and company that may enter. Confused, angry, and growing stronger, she lashed out often or rebelled. It earned her beatings enough to subdue her and cause her pain, but nothing enough to overtly damage her...at least, not until she was taken up to meet two other slaves: an argonian woman and a redguard woman. Having to learn the common language quickly, she began to understand that they had been trained to dance and sing and entertain guests.
Indeed she was trained, separate from her kin or any guests at first, though she often saw the male who had come with them (Corvah) often put into a stockade outside in the courtyard as punishment for various misbehaviors, so the children who came to visit could poke and prod at him or tease him. As Arien was allowed more freedom in the manor, she would sometimes hear his cries of pain from below in the cellars, and then...one day...Meerja (the other female of their tribe who had been bought) attacked. There was no doubt, from her shouting, that the female had grown tired of seeing the male tormented. As the manor guards moved to subdue her, Arien ran in to help her friend and one of the only remaining faces of her tribe, but Meerja (deemed too big a threat now) was swiftly put down, Arien dragged off to the cellar to be taught another, harsh, lesson. Tied to a rack, she was whipped and healed for a good half hour, the masters wanting to make sure she would be able to regrow as much of her fur as possible. She never made the mistake again...not that she would have to. Corvah, who she had seen chained limply to the wall, had finally had his spirit broken after the several months of back and forth work, stepping out of bounds, and the following beatings. Though he worked, he refused to eat, even though Arien (and her new friends-in-bonds) attempted to assist. It was a source of much pain for Arien to see the strong male simply waste away from a broken spirit, finally collapsing one day and passing on that night.
Never forgetting how she had gotten there, or what she had seen and experienced in her first few months with the cruel Altmer, Arien studied her new musical crafts and dances in the following months...carefully molding herself into the good little slave and slowly earning more 'freedoms' in the manor. She and the others would sing, recite poems, play music and dance for the parties at the manor, or attend the ladies of the house when they went to market. Sometimes she would see familiar faces in the city stocks, weak and beaten for whatever crimes their masters had brought against them, others publicly as warning to others about what would happen for crimes committed against the altmer natives.
Over the course of two, excruciatingly long, years Arien ticked down the names and faces she knew who passed along before them. Always she held her ears open, kept her mouth closed, and her eyes busy searching inside and out of the manor, trying to discover a way out as she prayed to Jone and Jode every night to help her and to Khenarthi every day to guide her passed tribesmen. One night, just before the monthly party her masters held, Arien saw something....astounding. While tuning the lute she was given to use movement caught her eye outside the room she had been told to stay in. She wasn't sure just what it was, but it was unusual...and so she stood to peek out the door and into the hall. There was nothing there that she could see, hear, or smell, but she felt uneasy...like something, or someone, still around. Turning to go back into the room a shadowy mist had formed there, the size of a man, or khajiit, and seemed to -look- at her. Frozen in place, Arien could only gape at what she saw, torn between terror and bewilderment. There was no feeling of malevolence from the swirling form, but as it seemed to motion to her she was sure it was intelligent. Drawn in, she moved silently toward it, stopping suddenly as something spoke into her ears. "Your chance is tonight, Dessert Runner, keep your eyes open and look for me."
The words were loud enough she was sure someone else would hear but the guard passing down the hall didn't enter, or even pause, in his patrol. Blinking wide eyes, she took a breath to speak, only to stop mid-breath as the shadows swept around her in a confused flurry before swiftly vanishing into nothingness. Gasping, startled, she jumped as the door opened behind her, the guard having returned to retrieve her for the party. For several hours things remained uneventful (at least for her), until people began meandering home once more from the manor. It was with the beginning of this lull that the master of the house approached, closely followed by another man. Arien was to show him to one of the guest rooms and see that he was settled for the night with -whatever- he needed or desired. Still not wholly familiar with the nuances of other languages, Arien missed some of the meaning in the statement, simply nodding and leading the man off, doing as she was told. By now her interaction with the shadowy form had faded into the background of her mind as she walked along the halls to the guest rooms, opening one for the man to enter and following in behind him.
Drunk and feeling less than subtle with the "indentured" woman, the mer managed to coax her into the room with enough subtlety for him to get to the door and lock it before Arien finally understood what was about to happen. Movement in the corner of her eye had her whipping her head around to see one of the shutters for the windows move with the air outside. Opportunity...this was the only opportunity. As the man approached her, she submitted just enough to draw him in, allowing her to jab him with her blunted claws in the throat, knocking him back and making him gasp in pain. Without a second thought Arien ran for the window and threw herself out of it, knowing the steep hill on the other side would hold a lot of damage for her. Tumbling for what felt like forever, Arien crashed to a halt in the underbrush at the bottom, dazed and in pain. Of course, by this time the altmer she'd just ruined the night of by jumping out his window had raised an alarm about the escaping slave and the sounds of guards rushing after her were coming closer incredibly quickly. Staggering up, she caught sight of that shadowy figure once more and gave chase to it as it moved off at the pace of a runner. The chase went on for what felt like hours in the darkness, but the figure had led her time and again to terrain and objects she knew she could use to cover her tracks or make swift and simple stumbling blocks and traps for her hunters to fall into. By the time she knew she could stop and rest a while in relative safety she was exhausted and out of breath....but free (at least for now)....and alone. The figure, whatever it was (she believed it had to have been Baan Dar), had vanished without a trace once more.
In the days that followed she had to be very careful and clever with what she did, and how. The clothes she wore were too nice for a khajiit who looked like they'd run through every muddy leaf pile on the island, not to mention they had the crest of the family she had worked for. Her shackles (carefully crafted to look like jewelry), though etched with control runes, were too far from her masters to work, but they still told of her slavery...at least as far as she was aware. Worst of all, there was little doubt in her mind (especially as she got on the move again) that her former masters had notified the guards of the nearest cities...and even put a bounty out on her to bring her back again. Bit by little bit, the female started to erase the signs of her slavery: peasant clothes (newly stolen), a cloak and hood to help hide her identity, and dozens of attempts at getting the shackles around her wrists off....before finally making an especially lucky meeting with old argonian on the road, allowing them to come off. Still, food was difficult to steal around the altmer, and while she had managed a crude bow and some arrows, life was difficult and she was far from home, always having to watch her back for people who might want her bounty money, or worrying if the guards in some town or another might recognize her.
Making her way down to one of the ports, Arien did what she could to blend in and gather any items that might better help her in the wide world. She worked in the local tavern running drinks and food to customers, she ran packages of goods for local shops to customers in the city...any odd job she could find she did, and when she wasn't doing that, she was filching anything small enough to fit in her pockets that was worth pawning while she kept her ears open for a ship headed back to the mainland of Tamriel. Then it finally happened...the perfect ship came in. It was headed out to Senchal, but the merchant ship wasn't exactly the sort to take passengers. It took a lot of finesse to slip aboard and stowaway, and it took even more to go most of the journey without being caught, but all good things must end, and one day trouble ran into her. Thankfully the young khajiit was quick witted and silver-tongued enough to talk her way out of -most- of the trouble. She would have to work (hard) on the decks and below them to keep the ship clean, but it was better than being tossed overboard or be arrested at port.
As the ship made port in Senchal, Arien felt another bit of shell shock. She had never been to the southern half of Elsweyr, and the jungles of it astounded and baffled her. With a whole new aspect of her homeland to discover, Arien had to figure out how to even begin making a living...or even knowing where to go and what to do with herself. All she'd ever known had been her tribal life, then slavery had been her life, then scratching out the barest of livings had been her life....what would her life be like now that she was free, and 'home'? The first and only things that came to her mind were ones she'd enjoyed (or learned to enjoy) : Hunting, and music. From there it was just a matter of time before Arien settled into a new routine. Flutes were easy to make, so she made one...most inns had drums so she played them...and when an inn or tavern had a lute, well, life was good. She would sing for her supper whenever a tavern owner would let her, but she found herself surprisingly lacking in songs known around the khajiit homeland. She remembered a few from her tribe, but she didn't know how to -play- them, and Aldmeri songs were all well and good, but they were an acquired taste for a khajiit.
So she decided to go on a pilgrimage, of sorts, and learn all the cultural songs she could from her people.
Working her way through the land, she never stopped anywhere for longer than a few days, always keeping a journal of the songs and poems she found most interesting. Subconsciously she found her feet leading her back to the deserts she had grown up in. When she reached them she felt a sense of home she'd not felt in a long time...but so much had changed. Tribes had changed or moved, people hand grown or passed on, and the slavers still ravaged her people. Now, better prepared for what slavers were and what they did, she began noticing more and more of their handiwork scattered through the northern lands. Her conversations with members of various tribes also led her to the knowledge that there were others out there who fought against the slavers actively...and so she sought them out.
For four years she learned to fight with them and how they used guerrilla tactics to strike swiftly and suddenly against slavers before vanishing again. As Arien grew more confident in her abilities to fight against other thinking beings, she found a dangerous sort of passion for it. She was good with a bow already from hunting, and using long range, unexpected, attacks with it and combining them with the magics and skills the fighters were slowly teaching her gave her the opportunity to be a deadly sniper, given the chance. What was more, she had another two chillingly surreal encounters with the shadowy Baan Dar that (in both instances) helped her to survive what could have been deadly outcomes...as well as discovering that there were other abilities she had yet to learn to control. Still, Baan Dar aside, not only did fighting against the slavers give her a sense of sick satisfaction in seeing them die, but relief in every potential slave they saved from the fate she'd experienced. Despite this sense of satisfaction, however, something else called her...and oddly enough, it called her -away- from Elsweyr.
While she loved her homelands, they never fully felt like home to her any longer. There was always a subtle ache in her heart at night around the fire with the others, or even just out sitting and looking at the moons. Something was always missing, always tugging at her and making her feel as if she were teetering on the edge of a slippery slope into a darkness she didn't want to face. So, she set off once more in search of music...this time across Tamriel.
While her journeys tended to be chalk-full of interesting and quirky interactions, curious discoveries, and dismal realizations about how the world saw her people, after six years of traveling Arien decided it was time to try and find a home in Elsweyr once more. With this thought in mind, the feline worked her way swiftly back toward 'home', only to find herself diverted by war toward Hew's Bane. Frustrated, the city seemed to be the perfect place for her to start making a secondary sort of 'home base' as she slowly started slipping into the sights of the thieves guild. Taking the opportunity to learn what she could from them while she was delayed, Arien made it clear that while she was perfectly content with being one of them, she wasn't going to stick around once her way home was open again...and she was as good as her word, not returning again until several years later. Probably for the better, in the long run.
Even so, though the original 'road block' of fighting had been dealt with, there were more and more border skirmishes beginning to take place, and getting into Cyrodiil lands to even get -close- to Elsweyr was becoming nearly impossible as the Three Banners War began in earnest. Frustrated and unable to return so she might find out for certain if her people had been invaded and -forced- into fighting with the Dominion, or had done so willingly (but stupidly) on their own, Arien found herself shunted around the fighting up through Skyrim and down again into Morrowind...learning new songs, building her skills, and biding her time until she can get back again.
Cliffnotes of IC RP:
As time rolled on and the war roiled on, Arien spent the years plying her various trades, both in and out of Cyrodiil. Meeting her first mate, the female and Meiredach had many travels together, often finding their way in and out of trouble as they went along. Meiredach stole her heart away, something not easy to do since the death of her dear friend when they were slaves, but the vivacious thief and mercenary managed it in very little time. Life seemed good for the first time in a long time...like she belonged somewhere, with someone....and then suddenly, and painfully, that vanished from her life, along with Meire. The male had left her, like a shadow in the night, and by the time she realized it his trail was going cold. It shattered her in ways that were not easy (perhaps not even possible) to repair, and for years she spent her time loving all, but settling with none. In fact, it often felt as if she were seeking out something impossible to regain. No one touched her heart as her mate had, and often this led her to find what she needed in multiple lovers at once....but born under the sign of the Lover, who was really surprised by this?
During these years, also, Arien had yet another few brushes with slavery. Xeko'Tsu was a mer intent on capturing her, and he did...sending the female spiraling toward places she recalled, but was loathe to go to once more. Resisting all 'training' and attempts to 'break' her of her spirit, the female managed to survive until her friends rescued her from the manor the mer had her locked away in. House Namos, however, and the friends she'd found there had come through for her. As Namos dissolved, however, Arien was sent looking for another place to make her living and came across House Majere. There was no doubt the House (a Telvanni branch) held slaves, but Arien proved herself more useful as a bard to them, while also allowing her to learn about the various members and workings of the house itself.
It was a good thing she did, too, as she met people there who later would come to save her life.
During one of her travels Arien would finally make her way back to Elsweyr with two of her closest friends. On their journey around Reaper's March, Arien would meet up with a lover from long past, as well as come across a set of orphaned twins. Unable to turn a blind eye, the female would leave the twins in the care of her friends and go to find the only remaining family they knew of. Unfortunately, the female found herself face to face with the dro-m'athra in the area near the village she needed to go to. In the process of attempting to get around (or in the end through) them, she was tainted by the dark spirits...her soul slowly being devoured. In this way began the hurried and heated search for a way to save her where many often fell.
High and low across the land they searched, attempting everything from creating a set of armor with the energy of a captured (and eventually killed) dro-m'athra itself, to binding her soul and trapping the evil spirit inside her body (thanks to the mages of Majere). Everything was only a temporary fix, however, and everyone around her knew it. It was during this time that Meiredach reappeared after having hidden himself away from the Morag Tong assassins chasing him. With the added set of eyes from Meire and Alaran the group discovered a moon priestess able to banish the dark spirit from the shell of Arien's body and return her spirit to it before it was too late. Weakened from the ordeal, and with bits of her...'missing'....Arien had a long road to recovery, but she also had her mate back to help her.
Once more everything seemed as if it was going to be fine, but life was never fully kind to the female, and it was only a matter of time....
Months after the miraculous escape from the fate of a bent-cat, the happy mates were laying low in Khenarthi's Roost, expecting their first litter. They both were aware that the Morag Tong would not quit so easily in their hunt of Meiredach, but neither of them were willing to give up their relationship or the chance at family. Unfortunately, no matter how good the two of them were at hiding, the fact that they were forced to stay (more or less) in one place because of the pregnancy is what allowed the Morag Tong to catch up to them. In an attempt to flee, the two agreed to separate until they could get to the Crimson Rose, an inn and guild started by friends they had met in Majere and who had broken from the House. This, however, turned out to be the death of Meiredach....as well as the unborn kitts.
Devastated, Arien slipped into old, self-destructive, ways....the cycle of overworking herself and slowly sliding down the slope of alcoholism evident to many of her friends. It was during this time that she met Xithic, and reconnected with Neetandros (who she knew from her time around Majere). Xithic turned out to be a good friend, someone willing to listen to her rather than simply trying to talk her out of anything, as most of her friends did....but Neet, who she already had connections to, earned her heart. At least, he'd started to. When he, too, turned more to his work and drifted away from her without word or warning, however, Arien finally felt herself break. She turned back to drinking....and then to skooma, which she had long ago given up with the help of a very dear friend. Seeing her turn to the drug her friends all made attempts at pulling her back from the edge before she went too far over it. Unfortunately, upon seeing her this way at all, some simply chose to walk away altogether...only worsening the deep wounds and depression she was feeling.
It was Xithic who dragged her back in the end. Dragging her away from the cities to go hunting, speaking to her, trying to connect with her hurting to understand it, the female was slowly able to focus less on the pain and more on her time with the male. She had always enjoyed her time hunting, and the male reminded her of how enjoyable it could be...especially with another person. Over the months the two went out on various hunting expeditions Arien found herself rather...smitten...with the male. After a particularly harrowing encounter with a bull mammoth, the two finally seemed to see eye to eye and came to an understanding: age may be a difficult factor in the future, but for now, at least, they had no reason to deny the fact they had feelings for one another. Setting up a home in Falkreath, the two settled in and...for once in her life....Arien didn't mind being tied to a single place, rather than wandering the world aimlessly. Certainly the two have had their ups and downs, including when Xithic decided to join a guard unit in altmer lands (of all things!) without telling her, but through them all the two have managed to stick it out...
There will always be that little part of her, however, that dreads the day he may leave, or vanish, or be killed...after all, that's been her experience in life, time after time.
@talaufirians (both for ESO and discord)
Basic Information
Preferred Name: Arien
Age: 47
Race: Khajiit
[sub-species: suthay-raht]
Gender: Female
Affliction: None
Place of Birth: Northern Deserts of Elsweyr to a nomadic tribe
Titles: Dessert Runner [only valid for her tribe and those that knew them]
Occupation: Bard, huntress, courier (assassin, sniper, thief, spy and information broker)
Appearance
Height: 5 foot 5 inches (approx)
Eye Color: Golden-yellow
Fur Color/Pattern: Ocelot coloring and striping
Abnormalities: Beneath her fur she has quite a number of scars, the only one really visible is a long one from mid-back along the side of her spine to just above her tail. Her hands and feet are the five digit appendages similar to that of man and mer, however they have the pads similar to those of digitigrade paws.
Markings: Crimson colored 'arrow' markings that are narrow around the bridge of her nose and inside corners of her eyes, becoming wider as they reach toward her hair line.
Miscellaneous: She has three golden rings in each ear, and her hair has strands of colored glass and metal beads woven into it.
Full Description:
Arien is lithe and well muscled considering her years as a runner and archer. Her time growing up in the desert molded her figure early on and she's not once moved past it. Her fur is surprisingly silky considering her penchant for getting dusty and dirty (or even sandy) during her work. Many of the scars she bears are hidden well beneath that fur, and she has more than a few, only one of which was bad enough to remain seen even after all of these years.
Her eyes are keen and intelligent and set into a sleek, but kind, face that is starting to show signs of her age with a faintly greying muzzle and sparse strands of silver in her mane. Her hair is black and thick, twining itself into long strands almost like dreadlocks in many places, despite her keeping it as clean as her fur. Often seen in either a (rather ostentatious) outfit of red, white and black with golden coins and bells with her lute, or a set of brown and green leathers, hood and mask with her bow, quiver and daggers, Arien's fingers always remain unhindered by cloth or leather so that she may use them nimbly and also make use of her claws if necessary. She does, however, always wear the same pair of black gloves, threaded through with lines that seem to almost pulse energy...and on occasion she can be spotted in a full set of similar armor. To those in the know those leathers may be seen as suspiciously similar in style to the appearance of the dro-m'athra.
Standing at an average height, Arien is rarely seen as intimidating. Her expression is typically happy and inquisitive making her easy to approach and talk to, however, if she feels the situation deserves it (and if it won't put anything or anyone at risk) she can become quite stoic, stern, and even, yes, intimidating. Still, her more serious side is often seen while out and about in her leathers as she feels more likely to be seen as a threat that way than as a bard. She is -always- armed, though other than her claws her weapons may not always be seen, her daggers having several hiding places around her when she wears them.
Personality: If you really -really- want to know...otherwise, let her surprise you!
Spoiler
Typically upbeat and easy going like many khajiit, Arien is easily approachable and often viewed as a kindhearted bard who may have traveled quite a bit, but has not seen many of the harsher realities of the world. Beneath the exterior, however, is a loyal, caring, and passionate woman who has grown a much harder part to her personality, something tempered in the fires of Nirn's harsh reality. She can be a thief without a care, she can be a spy without regret, and she can be a killer without remorse...but most of all, she is utterly, aggressively, and sometimes even ruthlessly, devoted to assisting freedom fighters and opposing slavery.
While normally outgoing and fond of teasing and joking, Arien's personality can change at the drop of a hat if the situation calls for her more serious side to show. This fact, however, is controlled by her cunning. Having learned early on in life that cunning, information and the control and manipulation of that information could get her many places, Arien can keep herself quite controlled as far as her personality and decision making is concerned....most of the time. In many instances where her cunning fails to control her impulses, the khajiit attempts to keep the teachings of her father close to heart: that good things come to those who wait (aka: patience is key). Between the two (cunning and patience), Arien has become rather adept and comfortable with holding one persona or the other at any given time, and can switch between the two in a rather startlingly swift amount of time...something that has helped keep her alive in more than one situation.
Perhaps the least seen part of her personality, however, is the sadness. The last of her tribe to remain (to her knowledge) alive, Arien has spent years away from her homeland. She watched the murder, capture, torture and enslavement of her tribe at the hands of slavers posing as Aldmeri forces over falsified accusations, spent several years as a slave, and has lived on her own, running and fighting and scratching out a living however she could for the rest of her time abroad. It has tried her faith in life, others, herself, and her gods many times over, and there have been more than one occasion where she has wanted to give up, lay down and die (literally and metaphorically)...but every time she has almost reached that point, something has happened to keep her from breaking or losing her faith completely. Still, there are moments where the weight of her past shows through in her actions, words, or emotions...or even into the songs she plays. Arien will sympathize with those who tell her of their hardships and try to comfort and advise them or attempt to help them see the positive in their life (she doesn't enjoy anyone (mostly anyone) being in pain), but she has little tolerance for those who say they seek help or advice in those troubling times but then are unwilling to listen openly...really only desiring to feel sorry for themselves and have someone feel sorry for them as well. While she will not overtly patronize them, she will make it a point to change the topic, will simply fall silent, or let them bluster off and not follow them.
As a point of her slavery, it should be noted that Arien hates being in Summerset, and has to work hard to not act on her racist feelings toward the Altmer themselves. She is more accepting, strangely, of Dunmer. Perhaps it is the fact that they, at least, do not hide the fact that they're racists and supremacists by attempting to act as if they are also charitable by doing so. Still, the female at least makes the attempt to treat everyone on an individual basis. Sometimes it works...sometimes it doesn't.
While normally outgoing and fond of teasing and joking, Arien's personality can change at the drop of a hat if the situation calls for her more serious side to show. This fact, however, is controlled by her cunning. Having learned early on in life that cunning, information and the control and manipulation of that information could get her many places, Arien can keep herself quite controlled as far as her personality and decision making is concerned....most of the time. In many instances where her cunning fails to control her impulses, the khajiit attempts to keep the teachings of her father close to heart: that good things come to those who wait (aka: patience is key). Between the two (cunning and patience), Arien has become rather adept and comfortable with holding one persona or the other at any given time, and can switch between the two in a rather startlingly swift amount of time...something that has helped keep her alive in more than one situation.
Perhaps the least seen part of her personality, however, is the sadness. The last of her tribe to remain (to her knowledge) alive, Arien has spent years away from her homeland. She watched the murder, capture, torture and enslavement of her tribe at the hands of slavers posing as Aldmeri forces over falsified accusations, spent several years as a slave, and has lived on her own, running and fighting and scratching out a living however she could for the rest of her time abroad. It has tried her faith in life, others, herself, and her gods many times over, and there have been more than one occasion where she has wanted to give up, lay down and die (literally and metaphorically)...but every time she has almost reached that point, something has happened to keep her from breaking or losing her faith completely. Still, there are moments where the weight of her past shows through in her actions, words, or emotions...or even into the songs she plays. Arien will sympathize with those who tell her of their hardships and try to comfort and advise them or attempt to help them see the positive in their life (she doesn't enjoy anyone (mostly anyone) being in pain), but she has little tolerance for those who say they seek help or advice in those troubling times but then are unwilling to listen openly...really only desiring to feel sorry for themselves and have someone feel sorry for them as well. While she will not overtly patronize them, she will make it a point to change the topic, will simply fall silent, or let them bluster off and not follow them.
As a point of her slavery, it should be noted that Arien hates being in Summerset, and has to work hard to not act on her racist feelings toward the Altmer themselves. She is more accepting, strangely, of Dunmer. Perhaps it is the fact that they, at least, do not hide the fact that they're racists and supremacists by attempting to act as if they are also charitable by doing so. Still, the female at least makes the attempt to treat everyone on an individual basis. Sometimes it works...sometimes it doesn't.
Abilities and Powers: A cunning sniper with bow and arrow, able to set and disarm traps, pick locks, use some minor magics in combat (primarily to snare others, strengthen the hit of her arrows, light her arrows on fire and minorly heal herself and those in a small area OR damage enemies in a small area), and pick pocket.
Also plays the lute, sings, dances, plays the harp, the flute and (very VERY rarely) play the drums. Decent alchemist, able to make various poisons (as well as their antidotes) and various other potions. She is capable with cloth and leather armor making, wood working and knows the basics of black smithing and enchanting (most proficient with leather work and wood work since she uses both to upkeep most of her gear).
Adept at sneaking through difficult areas, gathering information over time, and some forms of manipulation.
Shows some potential with soul magics.
Uses some talents she attributes to being given to her by a shadowy being she believes to be Baan Dar, including (but not limited to portals...though these are particularly fickle portals to create and open)
Associations:
Mate: Xithic
Family: Deceased. Mother: Ko'Larra, Father: Ra'Dartho, Brother: Ja'Virgas
Enemies: Xerko'Tsu (The Iron Lion), Nembris Thantus, slavers, slave masters, pretty much every altmer/Aldmeri soldier ever
Friends: Alaran, Serush (and their kitts), Jeet-Maht, Branded-by-Fire, Taylor, Tyrus, Haba'si, Hundorian, Zharra, Delphinia
Associates: Regnier Majere, Cromwell (estranged lover/former friend...frenemy?), Neetandros (similar to Cromwell)
Affiliations: The Crimson Rose, Thieves Guild, Fighter's Guild, Queen's Eye (on occasion -- assisting the two she knows in the group), Assassin's Guild (begrudgingly), House Majere (on occasion), Banescale Tribe (on occasion)
Born to the deserts of Northern Elsweyr to a nomadic tribe of hunters and merchants and couriers-for-hire, Arien was given the hopeful honorific of Daro at an early age because of her penchant for her little fingers trying to get into everything without getting caught...not that it tended to work very well when she was a child. Her training, like the training of all the kitts in their tribe, started early in the practices of navigation through the deserts. Being tested and trained in various roles in the tribe they would all apprentice to one of the skilled members of the tribe. Arien, as it happened, enjoyed (and was rather good at) hunting. While she adored her mother and her talents in healing, the kitt seemed to show very very little talent for it, try as she might. As adorable and quick-witted as she could be, she had no interest in learning the merchant's trade to use those skills. She was curious enough about the various crafters they had, but only sought to really learn from them when she wasn't doing what she really enjoyed: hunting and learning the deserts with her father, one of the leaders of the hunters.
Picking up archery quickly enough, and with a natural knack for finding her way around the land using moons, stars and sun, Arien often went out with her father or other capable mentors while scouting, hunting or (as she got old enough) running messages between small tribal camps. Little by little she would be allowed to go out on her own to catch small game, scout a little ahead of the tribe, and (as she grew near the 'mature' age of 15) even start acting as a courier to the various tribes that were well known as friends to her own. By the time she became an 'adult' at 15, Arien was shown how to apply the markings of the hunter on her fur and given the rings of the Desert Runner for her ears, marking her as one of the newest hunters/scouts and Dessert Runners (couriers) for the Sulin tribe.
As she'd grown, Arien had always heard bits of conversation from the adults of mer and men massing through the deserts, encountering other tribes of the country and leaving those territories once more...now devoid of the khajiit who had inhabited them. Sometimes the lands were sacked, the villages or camps destroyed and the dead left to rot in the sun, other times the inhabitants simply missing as if vanished. As she grew and her ears picked up (and understood) more of the conversations, Arien came to understand the meaning of slavers, and even saw the destruction left behind once or twice. So a healthy wariness of outsiders grew in her, mer and men often seen passing through the various regions while out scouting, sometimes with smatterings of other races accompanying them. Never, however, did she see any that -looked- like slaves with them. Such a thing could never reach her tribe, she was sure. Nomadic tribes were difficult to track down or get ahead of, especially in the shifting sands, after all. Sadly, her sense of security would be shattered shortly after reaching adulthood.
Returning from a short courier journey to her tribe, Arien was met with the sounds of shouting and fighting and sounds she had never once heard another sentient being make...but had heard often enough from animals she hunted: death cries. Languages she had never heard, mingled with her native Ta'agra, reached her ears long before the scent of blood, but once that hit her also it wasn't long before the sight she saw shocked her to her core. The destruction had been swift, those still fighting from her tribe were dwindling in numbers, those being subdued were struggling to get free or simply lay limp as if unconscious...and she couldn't move. Horrified, terrified, she was frozen...not even able to think. It wasn't until she realized that some of the people masquerading as Altmer soldiers had seen her and were moving toward her that she even moved to get her bow, but she had never fought another man before, let alone trained ones. The sixteen year old stood no chance, even through she fumbled to get off a few shots. Arrows, daggers...nothing would save her from her fate, and soon enough she was bound and struggling as she was hefted back to the huddled mass of hissing and growling adults and sobbing, frightened, kitts.
The slavers were cruel creatures, beating them when any misbehaved, careless of which ones had actually preformed the 'crime'. Many of the kitts died during the harsh march across the deserts toward Valenwood, their bodies left to rot in the sands along with what few adults failed to survive. Weakened, but still angry, what adults hadn't died from injuries sustained began feeling the effects of illnesses in Valenwood that had not reached the dunes of Elsweyr, or sickness brought on by sitting out in the elements during the nights (or days) when it rained. By the time the cruel trek was over, bringing them to one of the coasts of Valenwood, only a handful of the kitts remained alive, and a little over half of the adults. The illicit ship back to the Summerset Archipelago was an entirely different sort of hell. Dark, rocking, cramped, it was a terrifying experience for all the khajiit in the hold, many of whom had never even seen the ocean before. Many of the adults, shocked into states of almost feral actions, would lash out at any around them...friend or slaver, or even themselves. Infected wounds sustained from these attacks brought about more deaths to her tribal kin, and the feral ones were often put down as soon as they were noticed. By the time the ship made port only two kitts survived and under a quarter of the adults.
The light of day gave many of those left alive the urge to try and fight back once last time and avoid their fate. Outnumbered by the crew and weakened from the journey it was a foolish endeavor, and bound together Arien had no choice but to be dragged into the mess of it. In the swift moments after, the last two kitts died to trampling and misplaced attacks as the adults were subdued. Arien herself was met with a heavy knock to the head, dazing her and making her slump to the deck, dragging down the two attached to her. While none but the two kitts died, it was enough to subdue whoever of her tribe had still been fighting.
Hauled off to get 'cleaned', the parade of khajiit were sold rather swiftly on the slave markets...another mortifying experience, by the way, being devoid of most clothes so all those eyes could inspect her. She was bought, however, for a surprisingly good amount of coin by an Altmer man and woman, along with two others from her tribe. Skittish and furious by everything she'd experienced, but too weak to put up any sort of 'good fight' for her freedom, Arien and the others were taken to the manor that the couple owned. Given clothing, food, and water the group took some time to recover, all the while the other two being taught how to keep the manor and it's occupants content. Arien, however, was only taught how to behave around the masters and company that may enter. Confused, angry, and growing stronger, she lashed out often or rebelled. It earned her beatings enough to subdue her and cause her pain, but nothing enough to overtly damage her...at least, not until she was taken up to meet two other slaves: an argonian woman and a redguard woman. Having to learn the common language quickly, she began to understand that they had been trained to dance and sing and entertain guests.
Indeed she was trained, separate from her kin or any guests at first, though she often saw the male who had come with them (Corvah) often put into a stockade outside in the courtyard as punishment for various misbehaviors, so the children who came to visit could poke and prod at him or tease him. As Arien was allowed more freedom in the manor, she would sometimes hear his cries of pain from below in the cellars, and then...one day...Meerja (the other female of their tribe who had been bought) attacked. There was no doubt, from her shouting, that the female had grown tired of seeing the male tormented. As the manor guards moved to subdue her, Arien ran in to help her friend and one of the only remaining faces of her tribe, but Meerja (deemed too big a threat now) was swiftly put down, Arien dragged off to the cellar to be taught another, harsh, lesson. Tied to a rack, she was whipped and healed for a good half hour, the masters wanting to make sure she would be able to regrow as much of her fur as possible. She never made the mistake again...not that she would have to. Corvah, who she had seen chained limply to the wall, had finally had his spirit broken after the several months of back and forth work, stepping out of bounds, and the following beatings. Though he worked, he refused to eat, even though Arien (and her new friends-in-bonds) attempted to assist. It was a source of much pain for Arien to see the strong male simply waste away from a broken spirit, finally collapsing one day and passing on that night.
Never forgetting how she had gotten there, or what she had seen and experienced in her first few months with the cruel Altmer, Arien studied her new musical crafts and dances in the following months...carefully molding herself into the good little slave and slowly earning more 'freedoms' in the manor. She and the others would sing, recite poems, play music and dance for the parties at the manor, or attend the ladies of the house when they went to market. Sometimes she would see familiar faces in the city stocks, weak and beaten for whatever crimes their masters had brought against them, others publicly as warning to others about what would happen for crimes committed against the altmer natives.
Over the course of two, excruciatingly long, years Arien ticked down the names and faces she knew who passed along before them. Always she held her ears open, kept her mouth closed, and her eyes busy searching inside and out of the manor, trying to discover a way out as she prayed to Jone and Jode every night to help her and to Khenarthi every day to guide her passed tribesmen. One night, just before the monthly party her masters held, Arien saw something....astounding. While tuning the lute she was given to use movement caught her eye outside the room she had been told to stay in. She wasn't sure just what it was, but it was unusual...and so she stood to peek out the door and into the hall. There was nothing there that she could see, hear, or smell, but she felt uneasy...like something, or someone, still around. Turning to go back into the room a shadowy mist had formed there, the size of a man, or khajiit, and seemed to -look- at her. Frozen in place, Arien could only gape at what she saw, torn between terror and bewilderment. There was no feeling of malevolence from the swirling form, but as it seemed to motion to her she was sure it was intelligent. Drawn in, she moved silently toward it, stopping suddenly as something spoke into her ears. "Your chance is tonight, Dessert Runner, keep your eyes open and look for me."
The words were loud enough she was sure someone else would hear but the guard passing down the hall didn't enter, or even pause, in his patrol. Blinking wide eyes, she took a breath to speak, only to stop mid-breath as the shadows swept around her in a confused flurry before swiftly vanishing into nothingness. Gasping, startled, she jumped as the door opened behind her, the guard having returned to retrieve her for the party. For several hours things remained uneventful (at least for her), until people began meandering home once more from the manor. It was with the beginning of this lull that the master of the house approached, closely followed by another man. Arien was to show him to one of the guest rooms and see that he was settled for the night with -whatever- he needed or desired. Still not wholly familiar with the nuances of other languages, Arien missed some of the meaning in the statement, simply nodding and leading the man off, doing as she was told. By now her interaction with the shadowy form had faded into the background of her mind as she walked along the halls to the guest rooms, opening one for the man to enter and following in behind him.
Drunk and feeling less than subtle with the "indentured" woman, the mer managed to coax her into the room with enough subtlety for him to get to the door and lock it before Arien finally understood what was about to happen. Movement in the corner of her eye had her whipping her head around to see one of the shutters for the windows move with the air outside. Opportunity...this was the only opportunity. As the man approached her, she submitted just enough to draw him in, allowing her to jab him with her blunted claws in the throat, knocking him back and making him gasp in pain. Without a second thought Arien ran for the window and threw herself out of it, knowing the steep hill on the other side would hold a lot of damage for her. Tumbling for what felt like forever, Arien crashed to a halt in the underbrush at the bottom, dazed and in pain. Of course, by this time the altmer she'd just ruined the night of by jumping out his window had raised an alarm about the escaping slave and the sounds of guards rushing after her were coming closer incredibly quickly. Staggering up, she caught sight of that shadowy figure once more and gave chase to it as it moved off at the pace of a runner. The chase went on for what felt like hours in the darkness, but the figure had led her time and again to terrain and objects she knew she could use to cover her tracks or make swift and simple stumbling blocks and traps for her hunters to fall into. By the time she knew she could stop and rest a while in relative safety she was exhausted and out of breath....but free (at least for now)....and alone. The figure, whatever it was (she believed it had to have been Baan Dar), had vanished without a trace once more.
In the days that followed she had to be very careful and clever with what she did, and how. The clothes she wore were too nice for a khajiit who looked like they'd run through every muddy leaf pile on the island, not to mention they had the crest of the family she had worked for. Her shackles (carefully crafted to look like jewelry), though etched with control runes, were too far from her masters to work, but they still told of her slavery...at least as far as she was aware. Worst of all, there was little doubt in her mind (especially as she got on the move again) that her former masters had notified the guards of the nearest cities...and even put a bounty out on her to bring her back again. Bit by little bit, the female started to erase the signs of her slavery: peasant clothes (newly stolen), a cloak and hood to help hide her identity, and dozens of attempts at getting the shackles around her wrists off....before finally making an especially lucky meeting with old argonian on the road, allowing them to come off. Still, food was difficult to steal around the altmer, and while she had managed a crude bow and some arrows, life was difficult and she was far from home, always having to watch her back for people who might want her bounty money, or worrying if the guards in some town or another might recognize her.
Making her way down to one of the ports, Arien did what she could to blend in and gather any items that might better help her in the wide world. She worked in the local tavern running drinks and food to customers, she ran packages of goods for local shops to customers in the city...any odd job she could find she did, and when she wasn't doing that, she was filching anything small enough to fit in her pockets that was worth pawning while she kept her ears open for a ship headed back to the mainland of Tamriel. Then it finally happened...the perfect ship came in. It was headed out to Senchal, but the merchant ship wasn't exactly the sort to take passengers. It took a lot of finesse to slip aboard and stowaway, and it took even more to go most of the journey without being caught, but all good things must end, and one day trouble ran into her. Thankfully the young khajiit was quick witted and silver-tongued enough to talk her way out of -most- of the trouble. She would have to work (hard) on the decks and below them to keep the ship clean, but it was better than being tossed overboard or be arrested at port.
As the ship made port in Senchal, Arien felt another bit of shell shock. She had never been to the southern half of Elsweyr, and the jungles of it astounded and baffled her. With a whole new aspect of her homeland to discover, Arien had to figure out how to even begin making a living...or even knowing where to go and what to do with herself. All she'd ever known had been her tribal life, then slavery had been her life, then scratching out the barest of livings had been her life....what would her life be like now that she was free, and 'home'? The first and only things that came to her mind were ones she'd enjoyed (or learned to enjoy) : Hunting, and music. From there it was just a matter of time before Arien settled into a new routine. Flutes were easy to make, so she made one...most inns had drums so she played them...and when an inn or tavern had a lute, well, life was good. She would sing for her supper whenever a tavern owner would let her, but she found herself surprisingly lacking in songs known around the khajiit homeland. She remembered a few from her tribe, but she didn't know how to -play- them, and Aldmeri songs were all well and good, but they were an acquired taste for a khajiit.
So she decided to go on a pilgrimage, of sorts, and learn all the cultural songs she could from her people.
Working her way through the land, she never stopped anywhere for longer than a few days, always keeping a journal of the songs and poems she found most interesting. Subconsciously she found her feet leading her back to the deserts she had grown up in. When she reached them she felt a sense of home she'd not felt in a long time...but so much had changed. Tribes had changed or moved, people hand grown or passed on, and the slavers still ravaged her people. Now, better prepared for what slavers were and what they did, she began noticing more and more of their handiwork scattered through the northern lands. Her conversations with members of various tribes also led her to the knowledge that there were others out there who fought against the slavers actively...and so she sought them out.
For four years she learned to fight with them and how they used guerrilla tactics to strike swiftly and suddenly against slavers before vanishing again. As Arien grew more confident in her abilities to fight against other thinking beings, she found a dangerous sort of passion for it. She was good with a bow already from hunting, and using long range, unexpected, attacks with it and combining them with the magics and skills the fighters were slowly teaching her gave her the opportunity to be a deadly sniper, given the chance. What was more, she had another two chillingly surreal encounters with the shadowy Baan Dar that (in both instances) helped her to survive what could have been deadly outcomes...as well as discovering that there were other abilities she had yet to learn to control. Still, Baan Dar aside, not only did fighting against the slavers give her a sense of sick satisfaction in seeing them die, but relief in every potential slave they saved from the fate she'd experienced. Despite this sense of satisfaction, however, something else called her...and oddly enough, it called her -away- from Elsweyr.
While she loved her homelands, they never fully felt like home to her any longer. There was always a subtle ache in her heart at night around the fire with the others, or even just out sitting and looking at the moons. Something was always missing, always tugging at her and making her feel as if she were teetering on the edge of a slippery slope into a darkness she didn't want to face. So, she set off once more in search of music...this time across Tamriel.
While her journeys tended to be chalk-full of interesting and quirky interactions, curious discoveries, and dismal realizations about how the world saw her people, after six years of traveling Arien decided it was time to try and find a home in Elsweyr once more. With this thought in mind, the feline worked her way swiftly back toward 'home', only to find herself diverted by war toward Hew's Bane. Frustrated, the city seemed to be the perfect place for her to start making a secondary sort of 'home base' as she slowly started slipping into the sights of the thieves guild. Taking the opportunity to learn what she could from them while she was delayed, Arien made it clear that while she was perfectly content with being one of them, she wasn't going to stick around once her way home was open again...and she was as good as her word, not returning again until several years later. Probably for the better, in the long run.
Even so, though the original 'road block' of fighting had been dealt with, there were more and more border skirmishes beginning to take place, and getting into Cyrodiil lands to even get -close- to Elsweyr was becoming nearly impossible as the Three Banners War began in earnest. Frustrated and unable to return so she might find out for certain if her people had been invaded and -forced- into fighting with the Dominion, or had done so willingly (but stupidly) on their own, Arien found herself shunted around the fighting up through Skyrim and down again into Morrowind...learning new songs, building her skills, and biding her time until she can get back again.
Cliffnotes of IC RP:
As time rolled on and the war roiled on, Arien spent the years plying her various trades, both in and out of Cyrodiil. Meeting her first mate, the female and Meiredach had many travels together, often finding their way in and out of trouble as they went along. Meiredach stole her heart away, something not easy to do since the death of her dear friend when they were slaves, but the vivacious thief and mercenary managed it in very little time. Life seemed good for the first time in a long time...like she belonged somewhere, with someone....and then suddenly, and painfully, that vanished from her life, along with Meire. The male had left her, like a shadow in the night, and by the time she realized it his trail was going cold. It shattered her in ways that were not easy (perhaps not even possible) to repair, and for years she spent her time loving all, but settling with none. In fact, it often felt as if she were seeking out something impossible to regain. No one touched her heart as her mate had, and often this led her to find what she needed in multiple lovers at once....but born under the sign of the Lover, who was really surprised by this?
During these years, also, Arien had yet another few brushes with slavery. Xeko'Tsu was a mer intent on capturing her, and he did...sending the female spiraling toward places she recalled, but was loathe to go to once more. Resisting all 'training' and attempts to 'break' her of her spirit, the female managed to survive until her friends rescued her from the manor the mer had her locked away in. House Namos, however, and the friends she'd found there had come through for her. As Namos dissolved, however, Arien was sent looking for another place to make her living and came across House Majere. There was no doubt the House (a Telvanni branch) held slaves, but Arien proved herself more useful as a bard to them, while also allowing her to learn about the various members and workings of the house itself.
It was a good thing she did, too, as she met people there who later would come to save her life.
During one of her travels Arien would finally make her way back to Elsweyr with two of her closest friends. On their journey around Reaper's March, Arien would meet up with a lover from long past, as well as come across a set of orphaned twins. Unable to turn a blind eye, the female would leave the twins in the care of her friends and go to find the only remaining family they knew of. Unfortunately, the female found herself face to face with the dro-m'athra in the area near the village she needed to go to. In the process of attempting to get around (or in the end through) them, she was tainted by the dark spirits...her soul slowly being devoured. In this way began the hurried and heated search for a way to save her where many often fell.
High and low across the land they searched, attempting everything from creating a set of armor with the energy of a captured (and eventually killed) dro-m'athra itself, to binding her soul and trapping the evil spirit inside her body (thanks to the mages of Majere). Everything was only a temporary fix, however, and everyone around her knew it. It was during this time that Meiredach reappeared after having hidden himself away from the Morag Tong assassins chasing him. With the added set of eyes from Meire and Alaran the group discovered a moon priestess able to banish the dark spirit from the shell of Arien's body and return her spirit to it before it was too late. Weakened from the ordeal, and with bits of her...'missing'....Arien had a long road to recovery, but she also had her mate back to help her.
Once more everything seemed as if it was going to be fine, but life was never fully kind to the female, and it was only a matter of time....
Months after the miraculous escape from the fate of a bent-cat, the happy mates were laying low in Khenarthi's Roost, expecting their first litter. They both were aware that the Morag Tong would not quit so easily in their hunt of Meiredach, but neither of them were willing to give up their relationship or the chance at family. Unfortunately, no matter how good the two of them were at hiding, the fact that they were forced to stay (more or less) in one place because of the pregnancy is what allowed the Morag Tong to catch up to them. In an attempt to flee, the two agreed to separate until they could get to the Crimson Rose, an inn and guild started by friends they had met in Majere and who had broken from the House. This, however, turned out to be the death of Meiredach....as well as the unborn kitts.
Devastated, Arien slipped into old, self-destructive, ways....the cycle of overworking herself and slowly sliding down the slope of alcoholism evident to many of her friends. It was during this time that she met Xithic, and reconnected with Neetandros (who she knew from her time around Majere). Xithic turned out to be a good friend, someone willing to listen to her rather than simply trying to talk her out of anything, as most of her friends did....but Neet, who she already had connections to, earned her heart. At least, he'd started to. When he, too, turned more to his work and drifted away from her without word or warning, however, Arien finally felt herself break. She turned back to drinking....and then to skooma, which she had long ago given up with the help of a very dear friend. Seeing her turn to the drug her friends all made attempts at pulling her back from the edge before she went too far over it. Unfortunately, upon seeing her this way at all, some simply chose to walk away altogether...only worsening the deep wounds and depression she was feeling.
It was Xithic who dragged her back in the end. Dragging her away from the cities to go hunting, speaking to her, trying to connect with her hurting to understand it, the female was slowly able to focus less on the pain and more on her time with the male. She had always enjoyed her time hunting, and the male reminded her of how enjoyable it could be...especially with another person. Over the months the two went out on various hunting expeditions Arien found herself rather...smitten...with the male. After a particularly harrowing encounter with a bull mammoth, the two finally seemed to see eye to eye and came to an understanding: age may be a difficult factor in the future, but for now, at least, they had no reason to deny the fact they had feelings for one another. Setting up a home in Falkreath, the two settled in and...for once in her life....Arien didn't mind being tied to a single place, rather than wandering the world aimlessly. Certainly the two have had their ups and downs, including when Xithic decided to join a guard unit in altmer lands (of all things!) without telling her, but through them all the two have managed to stick it out...
There will always be that little part of her, however, that dreads the day he may leave, or vanish, or be killed...after all, that's been her experience in life, time after time.
Edited Feb 28, 2019 at 01:33 AM by 0
AminosFeb 28, 2019