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Artoria Cresces

The Rogue

0 · 371 views · located in Ismir

a character in “Blood in the Sand”, as played by Doom

Description

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              THE BASICS
                    ▌Name ▬▬ Artoria Cresces
                    ▌Alias ▬▬ Art
                    ▌Role ▬▬ The Rogue
                    ▌Age ▬▬ Twenty Six
                    ▌Gender ▬▬ Female
                    ▌Race ▬▬ Human
                    ▌Orientation ▬▬ Pansexual
                    ▌Allegiance ▬▬ The family
                    ▌Appearance ▬▬ Muscular; Short ; Grey eyes and hair
                    ▌Height ▬▬ 5'2
                    ▌Weight ▬▬ 120lbs
                    ▌Markings ▬▬ Some scars

              THE INTERESTS
                    ▌Likes ▬▬ Partying & drinking; Dancing; Camaraderie; Stealing
                    ▌Dislikes ▬▬ Gettin' caught; Her father; Extremely hot days; Whiners; Dancing
                    ▌Hobbies ▬▬ Climbing ; Hunting

              THE POWERS
                    ▌Weapon Name ▬▬ Dual wields daggers; She has brass knuckles and small knives hidden on her body just in case.
                    ▌Fighting Style ▬▬ Dirty cheat is what her brothers like to call her when they would play fight, she has no issue biting and scratching her way out of a tough situation even employing dirt in someone's eyes if she has to. She will crawl all over and around someone who is larger than her in order to disorient them if she has to but if it comes down to a fair fight she can still defiantly hold her own. She has trained extensively with her dual daggers even though she is far better at hand to hand combat than with any weapon but that is her little secret, people seem to take you more seriously when you have a blade in your hand as opposed to two dainty fists raised. She is better when against a slow opponent, someone who can match her speed can be a very difficult opponent for her to deal with.

                    ▌Sword Training ▬▬ Both brothers and father have taught her how to fight with a sword. While she's pretty good with them, she dislikes fighting with her daggers.
                    ▌Hand to Hand ▬▬ Prefered way of combat, Art is exceptional at fighting with her hands. It's something she learned while running with the other teenagers on the streets, it came easier to her than sword fighting did and to her feels more free.
                    ▌Lock Picking ▬▬ Artoria enjoys picking locks, the more complex a lock is the more of a thrill it gives her. She's pretty damn good at picking any lock but has been having a hard time getting past some more complicated ones.

                    ▌Quick Hands ▬▬ Artoria has always been quick not just on her feet but with her hands. As a child she easily picked her parent's pockets moving up to strangers as she got older. It's rare that anyone is able to catch her mid-snatch.
                    ▌Climbing ▬▬ It's always come easily to her, it's almost as if she can see a path on a wall to scurry up.
                    ▌Silent Steps ▬▬ From a young age she's always had a light step, it's fairly hard to hear her even if you try to listen.
                    ▌Flexible ▬▬ Artoria can contort her body pretty easily, getting through a tight space is fairly easy for her to do.

              THE PERSONAL
                    ▌Dedicated ▬▬ Artoria has a habit of putting herself completely into everything. It could be a hobby, job or simple task. Regardless of how she feels about her family or Father she is very close to them, still feeling bound to their duties.
                    ▌Judgemental ▬▬ It's a terrible habit but she is quick to size someone up and make assumptions about them based on their status, looks and the way they act. She doesn't tend to keep these thoughts to herself even though she has been working on it.
                    ▌Thievish ▬▬ It's pretty hard for her to pass up the opportunity of an easy mark. Something in her stomach turns into butterflies and her hands itch until she gets her hands on what she wants.
                    ▌Daring ▬▬ Odds stacked against her? That's never been a problem for Artoria. She's always had the habit of doing something and thinking about the consequences much much later.


                    ▌History ▬▬ The Cresces have always served the Republic however they can, either being part of the guards, the armies, as servants or even just helping to take care of the poor and less fortunate. They have been rewarded for their service in the form of a villa in one of the upper class neighborhoods that has been passed down through their generations. This villa is where Artoria learned all about what was expected of her from her father and siblings, they were going to do whatever their Republic asked them to because of how well they were treated in return and the satisfaction that they also gained. She had a hard time understanding what he meant, she was quickly found out to be a selfish little girl, stealing her brother's toys for her own when ever she wanted them even stealing fabrics of all sorts from her mother because she simple felt so. Her mother tried her hardest to break her of this habit but by the time she was 5 she had a little hobbit hole that everything that went missing seemed to show up, no one could understand how she was doing it. The doors to the rooms that some of the items use to be in were always locked for safe keeping, having no windows she could possibly reach.

                    Instead of punishing her, her father found it amusing. She could steal all she wanted, that was they way he saw it, for each item she stole another hour would get added onto her training. If what Artoria wanted to be was a thief then at least she would be a well trained one Training started very young for her, she would be forced to spend hours out in the court yard swinging a small wooden sword around till she fell where she was standing and couldn't move opting to sleep outside under the stars than to even bother trying to crawl to her room, she couldn't stand to hear her father's robust laughter as he listened to her drag herself. For years this went on, for years she got better at stealing, better at fooling her father and a better swords woman. By the age of 12 she had upgraded from a small wooden sword to two very real daggers, she no longer slashed against trees but against her brothers who held their own weapons. It was more of a game now than it was training, they were better than her but she was always finding a way to get the step up - throwing dirt in their eyes or rocks at their faces, anything she could get her hands on was a weapon for her to use. "Still a cheat I see!" Her father laughed from behind them as he watched his children dance around the yard slashing at one another, her brothers stood at attention but she wouldn't dare show him that respect, she spat to her side instead. That day he announced that he had been called to war, a call he was more than happy to answer. With her eldest brother they took off to protect their home, to protect their world.

                    Those four years Artoria grew quickly, she started to stay out with a bad crowd and through this crowd she learned how to fight - really fight with her hands and not with weapons. The strength she gained from all those years of training proved useful for punching a man in the jaw to knock him out. Soon she was learning how to block and dodge hits, where to knock her knee into the stomach to cause someone to pass out. It was this crowd that would be her downfall, they became scoundrels using their tricks and strength to steal from unsuspecting victims, they took anything they could get their hands on - jewelry, gold, fancy clothing...anything. A year before the war ended she had been caught by the guard and taken into custody. Her name got her out of trouble but put her mother in a sick bed for a week with worry. She felt guilty for the first time in her life and that feeling on continued when her father came home, he came home half a man, her brother was with him weathered from the war but her father no longer looked himself - a cut across his eyes stole his sight. Of course he still laughed that loud booming robust laughter but he no longer laughed at what was in front of him. Her father's only wish was to answer the call of the Republic if the day ever came they needed her skills and she swore to him she would, wondering if the misery she caused others caused his.


              PLOT WISHLIST
                    ▌▬▬ A run in with someone from the street gang she hung out with?
                    ▌▬▬ Possibly stole something important to someone else.

So begins...

Artoria Cresces's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Artoria Cresces Character Portrait: Calypso Sytille Character Portrait: Rowana Calmire Character Portrait: Tamsin Vassallo Character Portrait: Ye Kansu Character Portrait: Nestori Argyris
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Being on the run was a surreal experience. Never in his life would he have imagined his people would turn on him, with fire in their eyes and venom on their tongues. He replayed that day over in his head numerous times; him up on a barn roof of some old farmer with a hammer and thatch, sweaty and dirty from long hours of work.

He saw them almost immediately as they exited the city walls, a large cacophonous crowd lead by riders -- the king’s guard. At first he thought something was wrong with his father, that perhaps he had fallen ill. He remembered his heart dropping from his chest and the need to brace himself on one of the crossbeams. The prince would have walked out to meet them if it hadn’t been for the thunderous sound of hoofbeats racing from the direction of the barracks.

“My lord, my lord!” Two riders, both members of his personal guard circled the farm and beckoned him down. They were trusted friends, men he fought beside and would lay down his life for.

Judging by their tone of voice and the grey, sickly pallor they both shared, Atreus knew something was wrong.

“You must leave at once my prince!” The older male proclaimed, dismounting from his horse.

“King Nylus is dead, murdered and your brother...Prince Isador...wants you arrested!” The younger one added quickly, to which the older male jabbed in the elbow.

“A little more tact, Edmund!”

“I-I apologize sir, your highness. “ Edmund stammered, looking rather sheepish, but he continued on. “We knew you were out here, but the people they...Isador has whipped them into a frenzy, they are marching towards here now with weapons.” The young man gulped, “They think you killed the king!”

Atreus was speechless and his heart started to race, “Surely this is all some sort of bizarre misunderstanding..”

“No! My prince, Isador has labeled you a traitor. Your necklace was found on the King’s body. You must leave. Lord Sytille hurried us along, we promised him we’d see you somewhere safe.” The older man, Bair, pleaded his face somewhere between heartbreak and urgent.

“I-I don’t understand…” His hand reached for his neck, face as still as stone when he realized his most prized possession was missing.

“Take my horse, my prince. We’ve gathered some things, clothing and whatever foodstuffs were in the barracks to get you started.”

“But--”

“My lord prince, you are unsafe. We will send for you once we have a decent foothold, once we figure out what it is that Isador is plotting.”
Bair urged, catching Atreus by the crook of his arm and forcing the reins into his hand. “Go now, and don’t look back. We’ll buy you some time.

Though leaving that day was the best thing he could have done for his people and himself, Atreus still regretted it. He traveled until the sun went down, making it to a small village that had more dogs than people. He had changed his clothing and removed whatever jewelry he had on to help remain inconspicuous. The news traveled fast, and the prince would learn that his father was pushed from the tower to his death, clutching his mother’s necklace. The village people seemed a bit unbelieving that Nylus’ heir could do such a thing but a few drunkards were convinced he wanted the throne as soon as possible.

“At least Prince Isador has half a mind.” One joked, sloshing his tankard of ale in a pitiful cheers.

“That’s King Isador now, fool.” The other quipped, smacking his friend’s back heartily.

Atreus cringed at their banter, his eyes fixated on the knotted wood grain of the bar. He made up his mind then; He’d ride to Ostia.

The journey to Ostia took three days. Atreus was pleased to find that traveling went without a hitch; hardly anyone recognized him, if at all. He felt relieved to finally step foot in a country where it's people didn't despise him for one reason or another. Ostia in and of itself was relaxed and cheerful. Roughly the size of Arethusa, the city state was bustling with activity. Between the open air markets and lively people, it was a nice change of pace. However, Atreus could not enjoy what little time he had. He headed straight for the fortress where his dear friend held residence, hoping that he could get a swift audience with the man. He was not disappointed.

Ivar Karsh was an older man, having a decade or two on Atreus. They met during the war, finding that the young prince’s attitude towards battle was different and refreshing. Though he was unafraid and bold, he cared for his men even down to the grubby stable hands that tended to the horseshit. Ivar took it upon himself to give the boy a few lessons, even going so far as to gift him a scimitar of magical creation. Even when the war was over, Ivar and Atreus kept in touch. The prince never forgot Ivar’s promise of aid should he ever need it.

Atreus stood there in front of Ivar, and pleaded his case. He explained that his brother for one reason or another, had reason to believe that that he killed his own father. He explained that, during his travels Atreus came to the realization that Isador himself set him up so that he would assume the throne. Through the stories he heard, the rumors that were spread and his own general knowledge in how much Isador changed over the years, Atreus was certain Isador was direction responsible.

“I know my brother is responsible. And although I would like nothing more than to march straight back to Arethusa and confront him, I know that is not wise. I need people to fight with me, so that I can carve a path through Ismir.” Atreus spoke with conviction, his voice unwavering and confident. ”Judging by the rumors, Isador has essentially locked the country down in an attempt to find me. Getting back to the capital won’t be easy, my friend.”

Ivar rubbed at his ginger beard, keen blue eyes fixated on Atreus. He was deeply saddened to know that Nylus was dead, and he could tell that Atreus hadn’t had the time to properly grieve. There were lines etched into his skin that looped under his eyes that told stories of all the emotions that he held in. He needed help, and help he would give him.

“I’d like nothing more than to help you myself.” The burly man started, shifting his weight in his equally massive chair. “However, I have a better plan.” Ivar gestured towards his steward whom merely nodded and exited the room. “I have people -- men and women who serve me loyally. They are the most skilled agents this country has to offer, and they are yours to utilize as you see fit. You will find that they range in their abilities, with each one different than the last.” Ivar chuckled curtly, “Their personalities are rather colorful as well, but I know you will have no issue leading them. With them by your side, you can take back Ismir.” He paused for a moment, and then continued. “I will also outfit the lot you with whatever it is you need, I know you’re good for it. “ He offered Ivar a kind, gently smile. “All I ask for in return is to put your brother in his place. I cannot say that I know him very well, but by the actions he has taken already, I fear that he cannot be trusted.”

”Of course, my friend. I will make sure that no harm come to your people, and I will return them in the same condition that I found them.” Atreus joked lightly, head tilting to the side. ”I will pay you back for your kindness, and I will take Ismir back in my father's name..” With fierce determination, Atreus stepped forward to grip Ivar's shoulder, his free hand reaching for the man's to shake. From behind, he could hear footsteps.

It was time to meet his new companions.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Artoria Cresces
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#, as written by Doom
Old habits were hard to break, you can beat those urges down with a stick but sometimes they just crawl up and get to you. Walking through an alleyway, Artoria smirked to herself knowing this would be a perfect pick pocket spot. In less than a hour these passages would be used by all different sorts of people, those passing through to get home, to go to another tavern or even someone trying to get a bit of quick pleasure. The sun had started to set not that long ago, grey eyes watched as the shadows started to cover the walls, it was all a waiting game now. Leaning against a wall she seemingly disappeared into the darkness as it grew, almost flattening herself against the bricks. People hurried through the alleyway unaware of her presences. Soon enough the sky turned black, offering no light aside from the low sparkles of the stars. A drunken woman giggling to herself as she walked through the alley made an easy target Artoria. Minutes later she was sitting in a tavern with a small pouch of money, placing some on the bar she counted the rest with a grin on her face. There was a certain kind of rush when it came to stealing, of course her father wouldn't be pleased. It had been some time since Artoria had stolen anything, she had made a promise to stop but fingers were always crossed during those promises.

Of course if she had known it was her last night in her home she might have partied a little more, stolen something worth while but in stead it was spent singing drunkenly in the tavern with strangers. Each person her arm found itself around her other hand found their pockets. Several hours later no one was none the wiser as she made her way home her own pockets filled happily with all sorts of things her fingers wiggled away from others.

"Is that you baby girl?" A soft voice called out when Artoria entered the villa, there was no reason for anyone to be up but it seemed lately her mother wasn't able to sleep. Walking into the sitting room she smiled to the frail woman. "You smell terrible!" She laughed as she motioned for her to come closer, Artoria laughed as well as she staggered her way to her mother. Sitting on the floor she laid her head on her lap, closing her eyes when she felt cold fingers pull through the strands of white hair. They remained like that for a while with out speaking a work between one another until finally her mother leaned down and gently kissed the top of her head, 'You should go to bed, I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be hectic my child."

"Yea yea yea, You say that all the time." Sitting up in her spot, eyes narrowed and lips pouted the best she could before she started laughing, knowing that it was fairly late and she was a little too drunk to remain awake, "Good night mother." It took a few tries but she was finally on her feet which guided her to bed. Her mother had a habit of knowing when something was going to happen even though during the years her feelings had always proven true Artoria still didn't believe her. Sleep came fairly quickly, every part of her planned to sleep in but things never go as planned. It took a while for the knocking at the door to even make Artoria roll over in bed, it got louder and quicker until finally whoever it was just swung the door open. The heavy wood cracked against the stone wall causing her to jump in her bed, a knife in her hand as wide eyes looked towards the opening where one of her brothers stood. "Give me one reason not to give myself a sister."

Edward laughed at her threat, shaking his head with his hands up in defense, "Father is calling for us." Artoria groaned in response before throwing the knife onto the side table. Motioning for her brother to leave she slid out of the bed, shivering slightly as her feet touched the cold ground. She made herself as presentable as possible before heading towards what they considered their grand hall even though it wasn't all that grand. It was a decent sized room with a large thick wooden table in the middle that sat their unbearably large family easily. It seemed that she was the last to arrive, muttering a sorry she hurried past her brothers keeping her head down as she slipped into her seat. Everyone spoke while her father rubbed his chin, she was sure if he could he would be staring off into space.

Her father spoke suddenly, almost scaring her out of her chair, "I want you to go Artoria." There was no argument she could give her father that would change his mind, she didn't even try. The promise she made all those years ago still stood and plus it was her duty as a Cresces. Art sat in her seat, looking down at her hands as they pulled at the fabric of her pants oddly nervous about the whole thing. The others continued to talk about the plans for the immediate departure and any other details her father demanded to know. The morning had been fairly quiet aside from her brother's offering their services in response to the call that came from Ivar. An unfamiliar man sat across from her father at the other end of their grand table, he had been sent to deliver the summons and to explain the details of the situation. There had been rumors about the king of Ismir being murdered by his heir who had since been missing. Of course no one ever expected he would travel to Ostia looking for aide but then again no one expected any of this treachery, according to the messenger it had been the younger prince who did the deed. Honestly none of it meant anything Artoria, she had no views when it came to politics or kings, it was all above her and for the most part confusing. "Go pack a few things, you should get ready to leave immediately." Foggy eyes looked in the direction of her as she slowly rose from her seat. There was something about the way he spoke that Art always hated, gritting her teeth a bit she bowed her head before leaving the room and going to her own.

Artoria didn't start packing when she reached her room, instead she went to sit in her window staring out at the courtyard. It was still fairly early and it would take almost no time to reach the castle, she felt no reason to rush though she was sure she should. Part of her didn't want to leave her home but knew that there was no turning down the request or her saying no to her father. She wasn't a child anymore and wouldn't be able to get away with such things. Thankfully her head didn't throb nor did her stomach feel like the ocean, so there was at least a bright side there. Some time passed before she watched as her brothers walked out onto the grass, tossing weapons between one another as they spoke. She knew one of them would be better suited for this but it was her turn in a sense. Moving away from the window the last thing she wanted to do was to watch them train. It was easy to hear their laughter before the sound of the swords clashing against each other even on the other side of her room. There was only so much time she could delay the inevitable and she'd rather be prepared than forget something rushing out the door.

Thankfully there were no tearful goodbyes. With her bag strung across her shoulder, each person was given a hug with some words of how they would celebrate her return. Then they were off. It took no longer than a hour to arrive at the castle, Artoria noticed that there were two individuals standing near one of the doors but paid them no mind for now as hurried their way to where they were to be meeting with everyone. The man stopped outside a set of doors motioning for her to continue inside. With a deep breath she moved inside, looking between the faces that had already gathered inside. Now she knew nothing about how the titles worked, her mother tried to teach her as a child but none of it stuck. If there was one thing she was fairly sure about it was the fact she had to wait to be spoken to...right?