Maeve An Aideen O Bloodhold

[maeve]

Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant

Maeve An Aideen O Bloodhold

Name: Maeve An Aideen O Bloodhold
Age: 25
Sex: Female
Race: Human -- (Avvarian Hillsman)
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Eye Colour:

Her eyes are large and slightly almond shaped, glittering in a hazel-brown so peculiarly brilliant that it often appears gold. They retain much of an all too feral glint, and with the aid of her defined and arched brows, they are expressive of a deeper mischief that is considered by some as unsettling at best.

Hair Colour:

Maeve's hair is dark and conflicting in its color, a natural shade war between chocolates and dark browns, and lighter but no less aggressive auburn copper tones. It reaches for her midback and is often left to drape haphazardly over her petite figure. She is prone to braiding things into it, such as stray concomitants of nature, and it offers her an undertone of some unkempt nobility; a prestige that only the wilds themselves can bestow.

Height: 5'4"
Weight: 113 lbs.
Notable tattoos/scars/birthmarks:

Maeve is considered impish and fae-like in her appearance by more than just her own people, though certainly the Avvarian hillsmen were more than vocal about worrying for their "sickly" clan-mate. Lithe, slender, and short, her life's devotion to the darker arts of murder is less than surprising when considering her barbarian origins, and their very likely leaning towards hazing and abuse of her smaller size. Her high cheekbones and full lips are simply additions to her other larger features, and her face is intensely expressive in all of its vivid facets.

General Clothing:

Maeve's preference to armor is a practical one, favoring leathers to metals and being protected rather than being sexually alluring. Furs and silks are generally incorporated into her garb, claiming her attire to be as uncivilized as the woman it protects.

• Her armor is pointedly sleek, as her favored style of combat is one of stealth, speed, and tactical treachery. Composed primarily of black-dyed silks and darker cured leathers, it is plain and free of the usual delicate inscriptions and embroidery that many pride their regalia upon. Claws of some larger animal, likely a bear, have been hollowed at the pads and cured to rest upon her shoulders, and are odd in the black but white-flecked fur. The same fur, presumably of the same animal, fastidiously enhances her calf-high boots and, though it is rarely worn, the edges of her cloak. In times that will surely lead to combat, such as the stalking of a mark, she is prone to decorating her face with black paints.
  
• When not in combat and playing upon the charade of the far less combat worthy but no less morally ambiguous alchemist, Maeve still seems hard pressed to fit in entirely. Her clothing is closer to the common, every day wear of the usual men and women of Ferelden, but can be revealed as a farce through closer inspection and the discovery of the occasional animal tail, paw, ear, feather, or even trinkets of beadings and seashells.

Weapons:

Maeve lacks in the department of important weapons, instead using what she can find or whatever upgrades are available. Though daggers and small-scale bladed weapons are of her preference, she's certainly not above bludgeoning someone to death with their pet cat. Her best and most reliably used weapon, in short, is her opportunism.

She does have one weapon that she keeps on her person at all times, never choosing to discard it as she does all the others when the job is done for the forseeable future. This small dagger is usually concealed and made of carefully whittled and engraved bone of unknown – and pointedly unspoken – origins. It was never bleached and thus almost seems tarnished and perhaps this effect was enhanced by dyes, and it seems to have been permanently stained by blood on its dual edges. As it seems ritualistic in appearance, it is also worth saying that it is used as often as any other dagger and is abused by her opportunistic hunger for winning and survival as much as anything else. It's simply always carefully strapped to her, though the location is prone to changing.

Pets:

The Avvars rely heavily upon their hunting birds when at home in the inhospitable Frostback Mountains. Maeve's specific tribe left the birds to bond with their own masters rather than choosing the animals themselves, and as the girl showed a particular interest in falconry at an early age, it is no surprise that one such creature chose her hand above all others. Though the relationship is largely a selfish one based upon easily made meals for either partner, there is an undeniable understanding between the human and her hawk and the companionship is as real as any other. Often denying ever naming the bird out of a caution for disrespecting him, the striking northern goshawk is usually just referred to as a male, or has been dubbed in joking or cursing as "Highness" and "You-Mangy-Excuse-For-A-Chicken".

Personality:

The opportunist, the murderer, the liar, the wolf. Maeve still holds helplessly to her shamanistic beliefs and the basics of the lifestyle she left behind, stronger in many situations for them, but just as often left weaker for her stubborn demeanor. The Avvars know nothing of permanence, even in love, and so her mind is affected by wanderlust just as well as her feet, and it generally leaves her suspicious and lacking in trust for anyone. She is calculating but not cold, and is certainly prone to giving in to her baser emotions and desires even in her more stoic moments. That said, she is a strong, hardened individual at the core and it takes a great deal to negatively affect her.

In her usual day to day, she plays the role of the curious scholar and alchemist, feeding off of her natural wondering at the world around her to stray attention away from her murderous other half. It is not for shame but for self protection, and only the most important or seasoned individuals are aware of her cold-blooded abilities – and so it is only they who seek her out for jobs. She does not like to expend energy on frivolous activities, after all.

She enjoys both styles of her chosen work equally, the delicate operations of alchemy often applying to the similarly sensitive works of assassination and thus both appealing to her heart and nature.

She enjoys smiling, and moreso joking. Her social personality is often describable as glib, wiley, sarcastic and ferocious, and she often acts and speaks for her own amusement rather than taking other's feelings into account. She is also, as briefly aforementioned, incredibly curious, and is more than willing to learn when able to get around – or incorporate – her strongly held ideas of the world. This can be difficult (though surely not impossible) as these ideas have left her initially believing most lowlander individuals she meets as untrustworthy or stupid.

Strengths:

• Skilled in the creation of worthwhile health poultices and other such fare, as well as able in first aid. She possesses working knowledge of setting bones, stitching and wrapping wounds, and enhancing it all with the addition of salves and healing balms by the benefit of her herbalism.
  
  
• Her alchemy also leaves her well versed in the art of poisons.
  
  
• Able in falconry, as is customary of her people.
  
  
• A capable thief.
  
  
• Able to build a fire in the most inhospitable of conditions as is necessary when accustomed to living in the harsh Frostback Mountains.
  
  
• Capable of minor leatherworking or tailoring in order to repair her armor in times of great necessity, though she would be hard pressed to make a set from scratch.

Weaknesses:

• She does not favor ranged weaponry of any variety and often considers those who do as cowards, cruelly joking on their presumed hematophobia. This can often leave her at an actual disadvantage in combat, regardless of how strongly her ego will argue.
  
  
• She is made to dance with her weapons should a battle drag on beyond an opener, and she is poorly suited for taking any level of punishment.
  
  
• Typically suspicious of others, even if she would do well to conceal it. She often works alone as a result, and is widely regarded as weaker for it.
  
  
• Though open minded, her immediate reactions to most situations still rest on her traditional Avvar upbringing. This can seem odd or – in many cases – aggressively hostile to those poorly versed in the ways of a warrior culture.

Class: Rogue
Specialization: Assassin

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Character History:

Born in the Frostback Mountains to an Avvarian hillsmen tribe, it is certainly worth wondering on the road taken by the creature that now freely slinks about the streets of Ferelden's towns, villages and cities, those same things being what leaves the majority of Avvar to claim the lowlanders as corrupt, lazy, and weak. Though it would take many nights and a talented bard to do the extended tale any justice, there are greater points that stand out beyond others, and individuals with deeper impact than their counterparts.

In her younger years, life was good as it was expected, the nomadic lifestyle of her tribe suiting Maeve well enough if only for her lack of knowing anything else. In time, she began to listen to the tales of the lowlanders that the Avvars still believe they've a right and capability to conquer. In time, her curiosity of the world beyond her mountains was roused, and the beginning flame of a fire soon to be stoked was sparked from the ash of her infancy. Similarly, it was around this point that her parents amicably split under the terms of traditional Avvar marriage, and the doors to self-discovery truly opened for the girl as her parents busied themselves once again with their own unmarried lives.

Near the age of seventeen, Maeve had already begun to make her marks in alchemy and had already been selected by her goshawk. She was able-bodied and no longer harassed, as her mother had noticed her daughter's different abilities as simply that, and instead of leaving them as an unworthy hindrance, Aideen and her second husband gave Maeve the benefit of the doubt and training that would utilize her speed over brute strength. Having managed to put more than one of the larger and taunting peers of her generation in their place by her tutored ability, she began to earn respect, and through that, she fitted herself into a winter raid between the foothills and the lowlands of Ferelden.

The raids were quick as they were rare, pointedly made as they were to avoid any worthy counterattack by the Fereldens they preyed upon. Still, they were no less terrifying in their haste and those of the Bloodhold were prone to burning everything to the ground for good measure. Needless to say, they left their victims wary even in the best of times.

But she only experienced the one.

During the fighting, Maeve made the mistake of growing enamored with the enemy. Perhaps it was not a true romantic attraction, but it was nigh fatal all the same, and her curiosity nearly killed her that very night. Youthful and undisciplined, she forgot herself amidst the chaos and hunted after a man brutal and talented beyond anything she'd ever seen before. Though furious to the loss of her clan-mates by his hand, there was a mature neutrality that came with the teachings she'd taken seriously by the wilds her people lived within – and thus, she was swallowed by her need to know; to learn. After all, it was not often she saw another who moved quickly, stealthily, and of the make of a true assassin rather than a warrior or hunter.

With a racing heart, she hunted after her quarry through fire and bloodshed, sneaking through shadows and likely tipping him off in his better ability more than once. She wondered constantly if she would kill or question him upon his capture, all the while assured in his capture and thus being caught herself – by the brother that tailed her the entire time.

Having been led far enough astray in their impromptu trap, it seemed she had roused their curiosities as well, and instead of immediately stabbing eachother they came to questions instead. The questions then came to their keeping of the Avvar woman long after her people had fled back into the hills and likely took her disappearance for death, and it was through these brothers – Rieve and Eric – that she was eventually trained in the greater intricacies of the art she had been born for. In exchange, she taught them of her in-depth knowledge of herbalism, including the rare arts of using the Frostback's own dangerously found plants, and over time they adopted eachother as a sort of murderous and doubtlessly dysfunctional family.

Avvarian hillsmen are renown for their lack of permanence, however, and it was only natural that Maeve came to the conclusion that her life was to be led on its own. The men had taught her a great many things, brought her to question her old life for the sake of her new self, and gave her the greatest gift to any new hand in the world of paid killings – contacts. Though not knowing exactly what she seeks, if anything at all, she takes solace in her solitude, and has been living as she does now for the past four years with only the rarest of wandering thoughts leading her to muse over what could have been had she stayed with the men she had learned to call her true brothers.

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Alias: Fruit Bat, Seba, Megan
Timezone: MST
Other Characters: None, atm.
Notes: Ya'll know it be tru.

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[Zita Aurum Valdemar]

DEAD