(Home)     (Members)     (History)     (Join)    (Rules)    
(OOC Board)     (Novices & Accepted)     (Warder Training)     (The White Tower)     (The Outer World)     (Lesson Board)     (The Shadow)    

Name: Arauial
Pronunciation: Ara-oo-ee-all
Age: 24
Nationality: Unknown
Society: Freelander

Mental and Physical Description:
Arauial is short, about five feet tall, and slim. She has long legs and is considered beautiful, but she doesn't care about that. She has "diamond blue" eyes and waist-length hair that is the color of china gold. In other words, its brown when wet or in the dark, and shimmers like gold in the light.
She was born and raised into a group of men and women who are born assasins of the Dark Ones minions.

She has a very blatant outlook on life, though some decipher her as a little crazy. When she makes a kill, she eats the blood (see bio for details.) Even her fellow assasins describe her as "nerve-wracking" and "strange". Arauial carries a synical outlook and an upity attitude, holding a commanding presence despite her stunted height.

Biography:
Arauial was born in an unknown part of the world where Shadows lie. From what the rumors say, it is somewhere in the Blight, but she knows nothing of her origins. Separated from her parents at birth, as if custom among the Assasin group, she was raised to kill.

At the age of fourteen, Arauial found her weak point. Though she was a great swordswoman, one of the best ever seen for her age, she was unable to take a life, no matter how evil the person was. So began the thought process of a child.

She at last determined that the only way to do it was to think of the blood. A person was made up of blood and flesh. If she were to imagine that a small part of the person bled out during death, then she could also imagine that part was the piece of them that was good. And, in turn, the remainder inside the body was all that was bad. Still, what to do to separate the bad from the good?

Arauial decided that the only way to know which part was good was to separate the blood. She felt that someone ought to know about the good part of the dying Darkfriends, so she took it upon herself. She made her first kill, and when she did, she tasted the smeared blood across the blade. It tasted sweet and salty upon her lips, and she never disliked the taste at all.

As the years rolled by, she found herself becoming rather used to the idea. The others shied away from her, noting that there was a line there that she had crossed. What she was doing was "unnatural" and "odd". In her own defense, Arauial began spending more time alone, ignoring them, determined to hold inside herself what seemed right and true.

Being an assasin is, of course, a difficult job. She grew a shell that none could penetrate. A shell of sarcasm and danger. Many of the others in the group were nervous about being around her, though they never admitted it freely. Still, she felt alone, and cried often in the solitude. She felt her life was incomplete, like nothing mattered except this life she lead; killing creatures of the Dark One.

Perhaps, someday, she will find a way, but she struggles on. All she can do is hope that one day, something will change.

Audition Piece:

Arauial shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she waited in the darkness. The blade of her knife glimmered in the moonlight that touched the very edges of the black sidestreet. The light also made her eyes glow, her eyes that were such an unusual pale shade. They had been described to her once as "Diamond blue" but she had never taken the time to notice or care. All she knew was that they were slightly tilted, the eyes of a true-born Shadow Assasin.

There was the sound of metal clattering on the paving stones and she whipped around, her knife sheathed and her sword out in the blink of an eye. There was nothing, not even a whispering shadow, except a fat black rat scurrying along looking for food. Her mouth twisted in disgust and she lifted her foot, enjoying the sound of crunching as the heel of her boot crushed it flat. "Filthy beast." She muttered. With her luck, the rat was one of the Dark Ones spies, and he knew her location. Perhaps moving to a different side street would be a wise choice.

But alas, there was no time! Just as she had turned back, a man leapt at her from the shawows, sword outcast. Crying out, her long braid flying as she ducked, Arauial whipped around. Their swords met with a deafening crash and she put all her weight behind the blade, as she had been taught.

"How long have you been watching, Darkfriend?" She snarled, glaring at him in defiance. "Waiting for me to slip up so you could kill me and escape?" She moved quickly, flourishing the sword and gaining control. With one swift move, she shoved the blade through the Darkfriend's stomach, pushing forward until their noses were almost touching. He coughed blood and it splattered across her cheeks and her lips. Involuntarily, her tongue extracted to lick the red droplets from her face.

"You will not win, Assasin." He growled. Arauial gave a cruel smile and yanked the sword out abruptly, twisting as she did. Then, she pulled back and swung it over her head. His head and his body fell in two different directions, spilling red, warm blood into the street stones. Glancing around, she raised the sword to her face and ran her bare tongue along the metal. Along with the metallic taste of steel, there was a sweet and fragrant potency to the dead man's blood. With red liquid smeared across her lips, she smiled cleared the rest of the blade with his cape, and then sheathed the sword. There was work yet to be done this night, but at least the hunted Darkfriend was dead.

She stepped out into the light and blinked at the sudden brightness. The moon was full over Cairhien this night, though the streets, as far as she could see, were empty. Smiling maniacally to herself, Arauial continued down the street, blending with the night dressed all in black. Even her boots were made of black leather, most comfortable, and excellent for hiding when she needed to. Yes, she could have been described as the perfect assasin, but she had a long way to go before she felt complete. Suddenly she stopped in the street and looked up to the moon, her eerie eyes reflecting the light like a cat's. (Who am I?)

It was a question that had often haunted her late at night when sleep was impossible. She didn't even know what her parents names had been, what they looked like, though her pseudo parents had claimed she had her mothers eyes and her fathers temper. (As if that helps me at all.) She thought nastily, lowering her gaze and moving on. She had things to do, and only a few hours to do them. There was no time to be dreaming.

Email Jessica for more information.