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Calypso Sytille

The Friend

0 · 416 views · located in Ismir

a character in “Blood in the Sand”, as played by angelwolf123



              THE BASICS
                    ▌Name ▬▬ calypso sytille
                    ▌Alias ▬▬ count sytille, 'the greyhound'
                    ▌Role ▬▬ the Friend
                    ▌Age ▬▬ twenty-nine
                    ▌Gender ▬▬ male
                    ▌Race ▬▬ human
                    ▌Orientation ▬▬ homosexual, bi-romantic
                    ▌Allegiance ▬▬ atreus
                    ▌Appearance ▬▬ composed, dark-eyed, & shady-looking. ashen.
                    ▌Height ▬▬ six feet, two inches
                    ▌Weight ▬▬ approximately two hundred pounds
                    ▌Markings ▬▬ scarred hands and forearms, as well as missing the tip of his right pinkie. the price of mastering a difficult sword technique.

              THE INTERESTS
                    ▌Likes ▬▬ good tobacco, sparring, traveling, studying, atreus, talented people
                    ▌Dislikes ▬▬ being analyzed, rusted equipment, flirtatious women, frostbite, insomnia
                    ▌Hobbies ▬▬ people watching, collecting blackmail from other nobility

              THE POWERS
                    ▌Longsword ▬▬ double bladed, forty-eight inches long with a cruciform hilt. given to calypso as a gift from his family, he never cared to name it. a powerful weapon, known for cleaving lesser blades in twain.
                    ▌Fighting Style ▬▬ calypso is smarter than the devil, and probably craftier too. fighting with a two-handed style requires 360 degree awareness of one's surroundings. he's certainly skilled in making use of the environment. the greyhound is completely ruthless, and will attack without scruples when not in the general proximity of atreus. he employs a fast-paced technique which involves heavy, cleaving blows or thrusts. due to the size of his montante, calypso shines when combating multiple melee opponents at once. he is weakest when saving face in front of his friends, or against long range attackers.

                    like atreus, calypso also studied magic in the arethusa college. he had no talent for conjuring or manipulating the elements, so instead ended up focusing on transmutation. altering what already exists is less taxing than other forms of spellwork. his capabilities are simple, but efficient.

                    ▌Smokescreen ▬▬ this ability requires smoke or fog to already be present, whether from the remains of a fire or from his own cigarette. useful for a surprise attack or a speedy getaway.
                    ▌Enhance Armor ▬▬ the reason calypso is able to get away with only medium weight armor, as opposed to fullplate, and maintain his fluidity of movement in combat. if taken by surprise, or drained of magic, the count would be much more vulnerable to damage.
                    ▌Heavyweight ▬▬ unrelated to his magical abilities. due to his blade's size and two-handed nature, it is able to deal concussive damage to those otherwise protected by heavy armor. or those held aloft by, say, a horse's leg.

                    ▌Bargaining ▬▬ an unsympathetic, calculative thinker. the count is a cutthroat negotiator and deal maker.
                    ▌Diligence ▬▬ mastering the two handed style was a work of neither talent nor pedigree. it was the result of time, sweat, and many missed opportunities for friends and lovers.
                    ▌Nose for Trouble ▬▬ you could not find a more untrusting, or suspicious individual. the greyhound's knack for sniffing out unsavory individuals or brewing tribulations is unparalleled.
                    ▌Finance ▬▬ calypso possesses a mind suitable for crunching numbers and economic variables.

              THE PERSONAL
                    ▌Pessimistic ▬▬ utterly faithless in the world and in those who inhabit it. he calls it thinking 'realistically', but his vision of the future is bleak, to say the least. it is a daily struggle of calypso's to deal with the weight of his own negativity.
                    ▌Wanting ▬▬ recently, it has come to calypso's attention that all the time invested in his skill and craft has left him rather... alone. he yearns for a family. it is markedly easy for an attractive man or a kindhearted woman to make him weak in the knees.
                    ▌Impudent ▬▬ the count is one saucy, irreverent bastard. there is nothing he loves more than to tease or otherwise give friends and foes alike a hard time. he possesses a deep appreciation sarcasm, jokes, quick wit, and banter.
                    ▌Crafty ▬▬ calypso is loyal like a dog, but he'll just as easily lie like one too. he's not opposed to cheating or other dirty tactics required to get what he wants, from bluffing to backstabbing. he pretends he is much more honorable than he actually is when with atreus, or executing royal duties.

                    ▌History ▬▬ calypso sytille's family was cold in the way that enterprising nobility often are. although two older siblings came before him, they were the work of his father's mistress and thusly illegitimate. as his mother's firstborn, the title of 'count' sat upon his shoulders as soon as he was born. although the blood of sytille ran deep with pedigree, calypso's parents were concerned with the rising influence of the 'new money'; a class of lesser aristocracy who acquired lands through wealth or favors. seeking to strengthen their ties with the royal family, their household began making regular appearances in court.

                    although calypso met (and was even encouraged to befriend) atreus at a very young age, nothing more than boyish amicability would come from it until much later.

                    like most nobility, calypso had been schooled in both martial and scholarly arts nearly his entire life. when war erupted, he possessed both the age and training required to be sent off alongside his father. calypso fought for three years, and it changed him. it was on that battlefield that he lost his father, and where he forged a bond with atreus which ran thicker than blood or love of country.

                    calypso considered, and still considers, the prince to be his greatest comrade and ally. over the years he threw himself into his sword, lands, and political dalliances with other nobility... but it was no secret that the greyhound was the most dedicated of atreus' royal guard. calypso would follow his friend through hell and hellfire.

                    after the events of the king's assassination, he made a political cover for himself, and traveled with atreus' lover to seek out the outlawed prince. although calypso didn't believe atreus capable of murdering his father, he wouldn't have responded differently either way.

              PLOT WISHLIST
                    ▌▬▬ -calypso will blame himself for trusting the betrayer, and bringing him to atreus. it will be ugly.
                    -if atreus is a magnet for the ladies, then calypso is the scariest mother in law of the century.
                    -it's possible that calypso's influence and secret-trading with other nobility will help their party back into the castle. that is, if they don't excommunicate him first.

So begins...

Calypso Sytille's Story


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
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

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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.”


“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.