Author Topic: Bloodied Hands: the journal of Olywynn Mir'ethel  (Read 3928 times)

Olywynn

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Bloodied Hands: the journal of Olywynn Mir'ethel
« on: December 23, 2014, 08:22:14 PM »
Olywynn Mir'ethel
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---------Info---------
Race:  Moon Elf
Age: 132
Nationality: Silvaeren
Hometown: Silverymoon (Later Suzail)
Occupation: Red Vardo Trader, Tigan
Religion: The Seldarine

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--------- Physical ---------
Height: 5'1"
Build: Small framed, wirey build
Eyes:  Green, gold flecked
Hair:  Silver-white

Skin Tone: Pale
Scars/Tattoos: None[/font][/size]

Traits
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Elusive Shadow - Trained in the arts of subterfuge, Olywynn slips from shadow to shadow in silence.

Depressed - With the death of Jacqueline Dulcimer, she has become more distant.

Quick - Quick to learn, and slow to forget.

Temperate - Rarely takes life in excess.

Deceitful - Several have died already due to her willingness to betray the trust of others.

AmbitiousThe elf hungers for power over all.

Paranoia - She finds danger in prophesy and the notion of betrayal against her and her organization.
« Last Edit: April 07, 2016, 04:20:56 PM by Olywynn »

Olywynn

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Re: The Ferret: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #1 on: January 08, 2015, 12:15:48 PM »
Black leather clad feet moved, coming to rest between shards of broken glass.  Soft breathing, a steeled gaze.  The sound of her footfalls barely audible as the moved between the hazardous shards.  One step, two, three.  It was dark, even dark enough to make it hard for her elf eyes to see.  She squinted, the flicking candles in the distance throwing off her ability to see properly, their light glinting faintly off the glass at her feet. She trotted onwards, licking her lips.

Tink.


Her heart rose up in her throat, and without warning, she found herself being thrown from her feet and onto her back, letting out a yelp as she hit the hard stone floor.  She felt something against her throat.  A grinding noise sounded, as light flooded around her, allowed in by the opening of large wooden shutters by chain mechanism.  Standing over her, a grizzly man in his fifties, a human, sporting unkempt black facial hair.  He wore a dark outfit, complete with a chain choker around his  throat.  He squinted his eyes somewhat at her, not do to the light.  He had rested a wooden rod against her throat. "Y'er dead."

"Or caught," another voice sounded.  Her gaze shifted, catching sight of a lone elven female leaning against a nearby wall.  A sun elf, with short cut blonde hair.  A pretty woman, if not for the scaring on her face.  She wore a black shortcoat, and a red shawl around her shoulders.  She looked upon Olywynn in faint amusement, tapping the daggers at her hips idly.

The human grabbed her by the collar and tugged her up, setting her back on her feet.  He brushed off her shoulders, expression never changing from the eternal scowl on his face.  He'd gesture across the hall, where a group of young men and women stood, at the foot of the glass field.  "Back of tha' line, an' again."

With resignation, the moon elf collected herself and returned to where she began.

Olywynn

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Re: The Ferret: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #2 on: January 14, 2015, 12:32:45 PM »
"Why do you wear that mask, White?"

The grizzled man inquired, shifting his balance as his eyes swept over the rooftops of Suzail.  Lightning broke the sky, and the thunder followed.  No greater storm in recent memory was as tumultuous as this, though the question caught the moon elf's attention.  Almond eyes flicked to her left, adjusting her black and green wooden mask fixed to her face, looking to the two dark clad figures perched nearby.  One, with a lithe figure similar to her own, with an elven face framed by drenched blonde hair.  The other, the larger, though still dexterous form of her mentor.  The woman's name was Aerie, though Olywynn had come to the conclusion that it was just a fake name like all the others.  The man, however, went by Rorik. 

"Wear what?"

"The mask."

Silence followed, green eyes looking to the horizon again.  He looked her over for a time, before his gaze would wander again. "The Lord of Shadows, White...  You'd do well to pray to him, like the rest of us.  You're a Maskarran, White.  I see it in you, every day.  You call it 'Erevan', but you know that's not true.  That mask on your face."

Olywynn

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Re: The Ferret: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #3 on: January 26, 2015, 09:09:50 PM »
[The following chapter is written a strange form of elven thieves cant.]


When you were told by mother that your destiny was to be a priestess to Hanali, did you ever suspect that you'd be where you are today?  
Of course not, but that's not to say that I didn't choose this path.  How many good girls go to follow in the footsteps of the Fey Trickster?  Not many.

It's part of the game, this dance which we weave.  One foot by another, two by two.  
Step by step in a waltz with torchlight, cast shades flicking across the walls as I twirl with them.

Even now as I visit the shadows of the wood, I do watch, and marvel.  These are undead, shades of men left behind by the taint of this curse.  
Yet, are there not shadows pure?  Expressions of the antithesis of light, who dance to my dance beneath the stars and moon?

There must be.  Change is the only absolute, thus I know in my heart of hearts that in this place, there are dark places that do not inspire evil.  Those misunderstood.

Do they dance the dance?  Do they know my step as I do?
« Last Edit: January 26, 2015, 09:12:09 PM by Olywynn »

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Re: The Ferret: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #4 on: February 01, 2015, 02:33:59 AM »
Games are played, and coin trades hands.

Change is as change comes, never as expected.

Is chaos scary, or does it offer thrill?

What is next for the Ferret? 

Step onwards with dogged zeal, adventure and peril awaits.

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Re: The Ferret: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #5 on: February 06, 2015, 10:46:50 PM »
The job was for naught.  Blood was spilled for nothing.  I've killed men today.  For nothing.

The woman who sieged the city, she brought the very shadows upon the despot dwarf. 

I could only stand in wonder as she danced between those attacking her, fading into the heavy shadows of Sithicus as if they were water, only to return and strike again.

Perhaps that is what I take away from this.  Could I learn to be as she?  To command the shadows?

Olywynn

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Re: The Ferret: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #6 on: March 23, 2015, 10:10:27 AM »
There's only one thing greater than all the wealth in the world, and that thing is recognition.  To see someone pick up my calling card and say "The Ferret left this", and I'll respond: "You're goddamned right."  Recognition for what I do, who I am.  Whether that be in awe, or the frustrations of my victims.

-The Ferret

-----------------------------------------

Things are coming together, slowly.  I'll admit readily that freelancing hasn't been the most profitable,
and I know for sure the Drain wasn't profitable whatsoever. 
Paid in pocket change, really.  But, trust's useful too, so I stuck with it.

Seems if I'm lucky, I won't be freelance much longer, but who knows how the world turns?  Still, it's a matter of time. 

I'm going to make it big.

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Re: The Ferret: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #7 on: April 09, 2015, 06:36:01 PM »
Sometimes, I think I'm an idiot.

It's not necessarily stupid decisions, but really.  It's stupid words.  I've never pretended to be the greatest of speakers, let alone a good one to begin with.  But I did make a mistake, talking out of my proverbial rear end at that meeting with that Garda.

As much as it annoyed me in the present, being snubbed off by some two bit recruit, separated from the conversation despite being just as trustworthy as the Quartermaster, I realize that I was in the wrong.

I can't let flared tempers get the best of me again if I'm to survive this line of work, there's too much money to be made in the process.
« Last Edit: April 07, 2016, 04:09:43 PM by Olywynn »

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She of Many Masks: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #8 on: April 29, 2015, 02:21:43 PM »

"Do you think Serafaye would be proud of what you've become?"

"No."

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How fast things change.

It wasn't so long ago that I was this wide eyed thief straight off the streets of Suzail.  Never where I was from, but I had a new family there.

Would they have been proud of what I'm becoming?  Maskarrans, yes, but they never resorted to murder.  And yet, I am a thief of lives.

A Tigan.  There's more to that name than thief.  It's some to mean something else.  That you're willing to take what you want, even if it means another life.

It's the title that ties me and my brothers and sisters together, it's the name that both damns and protects.

Am I proud of what I've become?
« Last Edit: April 07, 2016, 04:09:38 PM by Olywynn »

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Re: She of Many Masks: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #9 on: May 11, 2015, 02:26:53 PM »


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My fingers are sore.

I've spent these last days for myself, at least somewhat.

Digging in forgotten places, returning to some root of who I was.

Picking meager treasures from the clutches of those long dead.  Things unneeded, yet still desired by they who needn't breathe.

What I hoped to find amongst these bones and debris, couldn't be amounted to material wealth.

It was an acceptance of mortality.  To accept what I would become, to accept what I would do.

If not by my own blade, who else would give a quick death to the Marked?

We live to bring mercy.  To know that you gave it, made it quick.

The Captain is right.  I yield to what I am becoming.

After all, the pay will ease any remaining reluctance.
« Last Edit: April 07, 2016, 04:09:31 PM by Olywynn »

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Re: She of Many Masks: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #10 on: May 26, 2015, 10:28:23 AM »


-----------------------------------------


What do you want out of life?

I asked this to Jacqueline, and I envy her to an extent for her answer.  She's content with enjoying the finery she'll no doubt earn.  To use her earned coin towards worldly pleasures.  To live a pleasant life once she's grown tired of the Game, and all it entails.

It's of my opinion that once we enter the Game, we never leave.  Our works will always come back to haunt us.  Someone will always be at odds with us.  We form around us a blanket of friends and enemies, and with the passage of time, we only collect more.  More nails to pin us to the game board, more strings to guide our paths for better or for worse. Do I believe Jackie wants to simply feed off of her rewards?  I'm not sure.  The Shadow in which she's bound tells otherwise.

I want more from this life.  More than gold, or fine things.  I want to be the best, and I'll do whatever it takes to get there, and stay at the top.  This world isn't something to save, it's something to survive.
« Last Edit: April 07, 2016, 04:09:23 PM by Olywynn »

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Re: She of Many Masks: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #11 on: June 12, 2015, 02:24:25 PM »


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Unnerved.

That's the term in mind.  Yet, it's not regarding the job, like it used to be.  A hanging feeling in the gut as what you know is coming comes ever closer.  Hypocrisy, perhaps.  Still, I'm in the right.  These eyes were always drawn to the same, and to the other, but the same has caught my eye lately.  Kinship in work, perhaps.  But, I know that such feelings wouldn't be given in turn.  Still, I find it amusing the desperations of others.  Feelings.

I will watch.  I will wait.

I have all the time in the world.  Patience will reveal the door, and perhaps the tumblers.

It was a lovely self portrait, anyways.
« Last Edit: April 07, 2016, 04:09:15 PM by Olywynn »

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Re: She of Many Masks: Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #12 on: June 26, 2015, 02:08:13 PM »


-----------------------------------------

She shifted on her heels.  Her hands, carrying the faintest quiver.  She wasn't sure yet if it was excitement, or if she was nervous.

Thinking back a year ago, she'd have been disgusted by the slowly coagulating, dripping blood coating her hands and forearms, staining her black and red suit.  She clenched her fists, the thick irony muck schlicking between her fingers audibly before opening them again.

A kill without the help of Radkov.  The bird's flown the nest, now.  Such sins can never be forgiven.

And yet, in taking that life, she felt invigorated.  She'd never felt more alive before.

She'd do it again.
« Last Edit: April 07, 2016, 04:08:15 PM by Olywynn »

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Re: Bloodied Hands: the journal of Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #13 on: October 09, 2015, 11:36:35 AM »


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She felt the weight of the sack in her hands, thumbs pressing lightly into its leather surface.  Feeling its mass, and the gentle give of the flesh that sat within.

She closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath, before resting her forehead against its smooth surface.

It was cold. For some reason, she wished it still held warmth, but such was hardly possible at this point.

Was she really a traitor?  Or did I betray her?

The notion weighed heavily on her gut.

« Last Edit: April 07, 2016, 04:09:02 PM by Olywynn »

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Re: Bloodied Hands: the journal of Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #14 on: April 07, 2016, 04:19:01 PM »


-----------------------------------------

Her hands trembled, her palms sweaty as she flipped through a series of logbooks, notes, and reports.  Each page a hurtle, each word sending her heart rising farther up into her throat. Her knuckles went white, whiter than they'd ever been before as her face grew an angry red.  Her jaw clenched, her eyes bulging as tears welled in her eyes.

How has she been so stupid?

It was all here.  She'd been played for a fool.  Kind words and claims of friendship, sisterhood, family.  They were all lies.  How easily could it have been to have been the one placed on the chopping block. Rage built in her breast, and all she wanted to do was scream.  Scream at the injustice, injustice she likely deserved, but injustice all the same.  She defended her.  She did what she could to save her.  But in the end, she would have cast her under the bridge at a moments notice for lesser reasons.

She would reverie an entire day, before returning to her duties in silence.

There was a new Lieutenant in the Red Vardo Traders of Vallaki.


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Re: Bloodied Hands: the journal of Olywynn Mir'ethel
« Reply #15 on: January 14, 2020, 07:04:02 PM »

"EILRALEI!"

The elf wheezed, stumbling down the path from the outskirts, blood running freely from the sharp, numbing pain in her shoulder and side from the arrows loosed by a once comrades bow.  The flesh around the wounds having turned blue from frostbite as the cold varnish kicked in. In the rush of adrenaline, she had gotten just far enough ahead to cast a shroud of invisibility over herself, stumbling off into the nearby woods.  The trail of blood drops and bloody footsteps created an easy enough path to sniff out.  She didn't have time to think about that.  Nor the strength.

Eilralei collapsed against an old oak, legs curling in on themselves as she shivered and mewled like a wounded animal. Her breaths came with difficulty from the pain.  A cold killer reduced to a shuddering mess in the forest, waiting for death at the hands of her once captain. Did she deserve it?  . . . Almost assuredly.  But the fear gripped her like a vice, rattling her little body as she began to attempt to stymie the bleeding.  Time passed, eyes expecting to see a pair of glowering red eyes step from the dark, intent on finishing her.

Instead, the break of dawn had come. Pride broken and body weak, the killer who was nearly killed rose to her feet and hobbled back to town, following her own blood trail in the underbrush.