Allow me to introduce you to,
A mercenary and former assassin, trying to live a better life than the one he led before, always trying, and making mistakes along the way.
Age: 30
Race: Hyur / Midlander
Gender: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Nameday: 21st Sun of the 5th Astral Moon
Patron Deity: Azeyma, the Warden; follower of Menphina, the Lover.
Sexuality: Gynesexual
Relationship status: Open relationship (Polyamorous)
Skills: Infiltration, stealth, interrogation, dual wielding, gardening, survival techniques._____
Family:
Gael Masters (Father)
Sephira Masters (Mother)
Madeleine Dailemont-Masters (Sister)Ambrose Masters (Daughter)
Maria Masters (Daughter)
Zake Masters (Son)
Hailing from nowhere, Arsene began his story like many others had done throughout Eorzea: he found himself in dangerous situations and lived to tell the tale.Fiery and ambitious, Arsene fought tooth and nail to build himself up in the world of adventuring, his quick feet and clever tongue able to get himself out of most situations. The moments they indeed failed, he was far too stubborn to just die, throwing himself into the fray and taking whatever damage he had to in order to complete his goal.Keeping that same mentality in life as he does in combat, he is far too determined to really be kept down. A dedicated friend and a boisterous lover, he excels in all areas where it comes to putting everything on the line, and showing what you can become.Yet, underlying that same tenacity comes a much cold edge to his personality. Often repressed and hidden from the world around him, lays dormant a den of rage and cruelty, a swirling abyss of pain that runs far deeper than anything he is aware of.Like all things, he is complicated. A dangerous and remorseless foe, or a lover and kind friend that tries to keep those close to him. Whatever the odds, the only constant is that he will continue to stand and fight until his last breath.
Arsene or his family were never really sure where he was born. His mother and father, both travelling merchants and employed to travel from city to city, had gotten lost one night on their way from Ishgard to Gridania. During that trip, his mother had given birth to him, and they didn't have a clue where they were. They were able to find their way back eventually, but suffice to say, he had been born in a state of, and would live his life, in periods of adventuring and journeying.Despite being a meek lad, he had always managed to find himself out in the wilderness, exploring the unknown and meeting dangerous creatures or unfamiliar friendly faces along the way. From the Amal'jaa in the deserts of Thanalan, or the Sylphs of Gridania, or even the customers that would buy goods from his family, he had a way of talking to others that would lend to his insatiable curiousity. But still, his ability to get into trouble wasn't too far from his curiousity. Oftentimes, he would come home crying, covered in bruises or cuts, having barely escaped all sorts of creatures. He would never truly learn his lesson though, always finding trouble whenever his family would pack up and set off to another city.Around the time he was ten, his family had parked themselves in Limsa Lominsa. But instead of simply plying their trade and leaving, his parents had found themselves in a boatload of trouble. Accused of smuggling illicit goods into the city, they were banned from trading throughout the city, losing their caravan and their prosperous career in the process. The whole thing had been a sham, Arsene and his family used as scapegoats due to a recent campaign of crackdowns on the area, certain members of the Yellowjackets attempting to inflate their numbers. Their caravan was seized, and his family's name slander.What Arsene or his family had known was that the plot ran a lot deeper. In the shadows, Jacke and his merry band would hear of the plot, and following the code, they brought justice to the few that had dared to steal and profit from another Lominsan...which meant that Arsene's family just happened to be caught in the bigger picture, being vindicated of the accusations. The problem would remain though...his family's goods and cart were lost, their entire lives effectively gone. With no way out of the city, they could only resolve themselves to work and rebuild from nothing.Arsene at the time grew infatuated with the rogues, seeing them as heroes for clearing his family's name. He worked effortlessly to join them, and after much annoyance and provocation, he was brought on and taught some of the ropes. There, he would work in the shadows, his family toiling away and working to rebuild, Arsene beginning to hone his craft. By the time he had reached maturity, Arsene had grown confident and skilled in the art of a rogue, plying his trade to ensure all would follow the code. But after a point, he had grown restless remaining in Limsa for so long. He had seen nothing of the world since then, his adolescence passing by in the midst of pirates and ships. Once he was old enough to be considered an adult, he left Limsa immediately, attempting to seek out other fortunes.Unfortunately for him, he wasn't quite good at anything else. He found himself in Thanalan, where the code hadn't mattered and he would be nothing more than a simple cutpurse. To break even, he would find himself working in the mines, breaking his back for some time in order to keep food on the table for himself. That was, until a cave in had occurred, monsters overtaking the mines and terrorizing all of the miners trapped inside. When all hope had been lost, a group of simple adventurers had found their way in, fighting back the tide of creatures and working effortlessly to clear out the caves. Arsene and his crew had been saved, pulled from the darkness and back out to light. Swearing off mines and all caves of the sort, he realized what he needed to do in the world.Adventure and use his skills for his own benefit.Yet, being an adventurer wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Simple jobs and errands were all he could find, from guarding caravans to fighting off a small cobyln or two, he never really had the chance to prove himself in any variety. It was until a chance encounter with a shadowy figure in the adventurer's guild in Ul'dah, did he begin to make a name for himself. Tasked with delivering a box to Gridania, he found himself under constant assault by cultists, nearly losing his life several times on his way there. Why he had continued, he wasn't sure, but he ended up finding a good friend once he got there. Ty had helped him out of a bind, and together, they realized that the box he was tasked with delivering was part of a vast plot by voidsent cultists, trying to bring in a Lurker, a dangerous voidsent, into the world. They went on what appeared to be a suicide mission, but they had managed to do it. Arsene had been stabbed several times in the process of fighting off the creatures, and was forced to take some time to himself.But he couldn't be kept down for long. Soon, he was getting odd jobs here and there, from all over the country, being tasked with ever increasing deeds and monster hunting. Eventually, he found himself being requested by the Grand Companies to accompany an expedition to Garlemald, as part of a recon operation with several other adventurers. It was an unusual operation, but it was something that apparently they absolutely needed in that moment, with as little trave to the Grand Companies as possible. With such promise of gil, Arsene would accept, joining a ragtag team of other adventurers and scoundrels to perform recon on the hostile nation. It went wrong almost immediately. Ambushed from the start, he was only able to escape the scene with a select few, one of the names that would grow close to him being Kiri, a Hingan who was fighting to free her lands.Narrowly escaping with their lives, they wouldn't be able to flee for long, the border that kept Garlemald safe from invaders far too imposing for any hope of traversing. No, they would need to find another way out...and that meant finishing their mission. Gathering whatever they could by whatever means necessary. Working from nothing, he, Kiri and the others built up a small guerilla team, working together to try and take down whatever Garleans they could and peel off whatever information he could find. It was never enough though. Always false leads or nothing. Time had turned and they had spent more time than any of them would've liked, him and Kiri growing close and falling in love during their occupation. What had changed things was a chance encounter with an old man.Out in the blizzards, Arsene stumbled across a man hiking alone through the wilderness, assailed by voidsent. Striking them down, he ended up helping the man to shelter. While ostentatious at first, the old man would slowly open up, revealing he was one of the Reapers left behind during a recent exodus from their lands, considered too weak to move or fight. He roamed the cold, attempting to find the means to survive. He was at the end of his rope, knowing that he would be passing on soon. Reluctantly, he ended up teaching the beginning ways to being a Reaper, how to bind a voidsent to his call and command, but never going too deep into detail. Before long, the man had passed, leaving Arsene with darker knowledge than he knew what he could do with. Instead, he would return back to base.The curtains fell as the Garleans showed up one night. Out of nowhere, they breached their shelter, killing and maiming all except for Arsene. Realizing he was still alive, they took him back to their headquarters. What followed were grueling nights of torture and interrogation, attempting to break him and learn what exactly they were doing there. Nearly at the point of breaking, Arsene managed to summon all of his strength, breaking his restraints and utilizing every last fiber of his strength to fight his way through the base. After a strenuous and sacrificial rage, he found himself at the heart of the operation, an experimental lab. What he had found had rocked his core...instead of facing the same punishments, Kiri appeared to be working for them. Disoriented and delirious as he was after losing a vast amount of blood, he slew all the scientists and Kiri at once, leaving them in a bloody heap on the floor.Just when death had nearly took him, something had shook in the air around them. Kiri's body had disintegrated, replaced by swirling voidsent energy from a powerful source, twisting her essence and body into something...completely unnatural. With a banshee scream, it attempted to take his life...only for Arsene to pull through once more. Forcing a pact, he took the creature into his body and was able to gain the strength to stand once again. Without much left to him afterwards, he would find his way out of the castrum, and collapsing into the snow. He was found by another group that had been sent in to replace him, having to flee the country and get him back to Ul'dah with the relevant information.After Garlemald, nothing would ever be the same.The world had simply become hollow, a mire of grey and apathy that followed him around. Nothing mattered anymore, except for the fervent desire to stay alive, to live in that misery. Jobs would come for him and he would simply do them, far more violent and bloodthirsty than many of the other adventurers that would be sent. The jobs would eventually turn into contracts, opportunities for Arsene to amass a small fortune operating underneath the eyes of the law and killing whoever was on a list. He took pleasure in it, enjoyed every moment that it allowed him to feel something other than the vast emptiness that overwhelmed him. Killing would become as natural as breathing to him, slaughtering contracts and innocents alike to keep Kiri fed and to keep his coffers growing, even if none of it truly meant anything at all to him at that point. It was simply another day to live and a way to get through it.As the months would go on, he would develop a moniker, feared in the underbelly of the grand cities.The Spider.A murderer and fiend that would butcher and string up his enemies, leaving them in a grotesque display, a calling card to signify that he had struck. Fear was something he worked with, a combination of his skills and deadly guerilla tactics that had come to shape his young adult life. He would terrorize the city states for some time, always remaining as low to the dirt as possible and avoiding anything that would compromise him.The years would roll by and he would find himself in camp one night and stare into the fire...and continue to stare until daylight arrived. He felt nothing...he could do nothing. There was no peaceful sleep, nothing to be gained, and even as his body hurt, he would simply stare. It was at that realization that he would pick himself up and walk through Ul'dah, simply wandering and doing nothing for a time. Days would pass and he would continue to aimlessly shuffle around, until eventually stopping and coming to a decision...he would try to begin again.Now, he simply tries to avoid his previous life as much as possible, focusing on the better parts of life that have become available to him. To rediscover himself and find some measure of peace within the mire.
“Oi, get up, you lazy cunt!”His vision would return in a bleary mess, a pain ringing on the top of his skull, a moment or two needed to return to clarity. Where was he? Who was he? He blinked and he found himself in the midst of a war torn tavern, the walls caved in and the roof seemingly ready to fall at any time. But it was their home for now, he remembered that.“Come on, we’re not having you sleep on the job! Don’t give a fuck how tired you are!” came a voice across, a Miqo’te, early 20s, with a physique and expression that showed decades past her time.Where was he? He took a moment to look around, realizing just what a state everything had been in. The memories would flash back, of battles fought near here, a chance for some measure of refuge and warmth. It was good enough for all of them.“Alright…” Arsene said, “alright…fuck, couldn’t you be a bit nicer with your bedside talk?”Another swat came down on his head, not hard, but enough to rattle him slightly. She could’ve done a lot worse.“Aye, if you suddenly grew another fulm and sprouted fur. Come on.”She tapped him on the head and pulled him by the shoulder, Arsene barely wobbling to his feet and rubbing his eyes. Everything was sore, especially his back. Resting on an old bench in the middle of some forgotten tavern was enough to make the nicest man a villain. He was practically dragged through the room, the generously tall Miqo’te dragging him down the bar area and moving into the back rooms.“Gwyn, hold up, will ya?” Arsene chided, ripping his arm back to break her grip “gods, can’t even spend two fuckin’ seconds to wake up…what’s the matter, what’s the emergency?”Gwyn turned and gave him a frown, tilting his hip gently as she rested a hand on it. “Important news came back. Hrost just came back.”Hrost? Arsene immediately perked up, his brown eyes shining a bit as the realization began to sink in.“Hrost?” he echoed his own thoughts “is-is he alright? Where is he?”“In the back. Now come on.” She grabbed onto his wrist again, this time pulling a willing Arsene. Snaking around the back, she pushed open a door that seemed to be on its own last legs, squeaking and creaking as it nearly slammed against the wall.Inside, everyone was gathered. All of them, Hrost, Sven, Sapphira, Imogene, and Kiri. They all took a turn to look over, brandishing a wide smile and hoisting a mug up into the air, acknowledging the two as they both stepped inside.“Ahh, finally you’re awake,” came a gravelly voice, peppered with exhaustion and pain “as usual, the last to arrive.”“Hrost,” Arsene said, a look of relief passing over his face as he sidestepped Gwyn, making his way over to the resting Hrothgar “gods, good to see your ugly face again. What happened, are you-” He looked down, noticing that the mission itself had taken its toll.“Your leg…” he said, almost in a guilty whisper, to which Hrost would only smile and shake his head.“Think nothing of it, kiddo. Could’ve been a lot worse, but I got out of it just fine. Whatever stuff Saph here gave me…can’t even really feel the half of it.” The elezen across from him would simply give him a deep frown, one almost born out of a patronizing glance.“Yes, yes…absolute miracle, until the ale you’re drinking suddenly mixes with the potion and kills you. Set the mug down.”Hrost would only roll his eyes, taking another big gulp of the drink, the others cheering him on, much to Saph’s exasperation. Another Miqo’te would stride up, boots clacking against the wooden floorboard, placing his hand on Arsene’s shoulder, getting his attention.“Found ol’ Hrost here by the wayside. Surprised the fucker lived, but he’s a tough one to kill. But beyond that, we got better news to share.”Arsene already in the midst of a rollercoaster of emotions, guilt, anger, fear, but that sentence alone would inspire something new in him. He turned his eyes to the man in curiosity, the faintest flicker of hoping burning inside him.“What news?”“Garleans are pulling back. The bait worked and they think we’re heading further south. Regiment was spotted by Hrost here, but managed to give them the slip before they noticed. We’re ready to go.”Arsene took a moment to process the information, a look of incredulity on his face, before a small chuckle leapt from his lips. “Fuck…I can’t believe Claude came through after all. Guy was ready to leave us to die.”Another Hyur would step forward, fierce black hair and soft features, a warm smile on her face that made Arsene warmer by comparison. “What matters is that we have an opportunity. It’s as you said, we’ve an opening now and we’d be fools to miss the chance. We’ll be setting out in the morning..”Arsene would grin at the other Hyur, nodding his head gently. “Yeah…give yourself some credit though, Kiri, you were the one who came up with the idea.”“And then immediately said the plan would be foolish. You were the one who kept pushing. Persistence won out in the end.”They both smiled warmly at each other, before Gwyn strode back up, slamming a mug into Arsene’s chest. “Yes, yes, we get it…find a room.” They would both look away for a brief moment in embarrassment before a round of laughter came around.Imogene, the shorter Au Ra woman would walk up, handing over a stack of papers to Arsene, her lithe form barely making any noise on the floor as she strode up. “Here’s the plan, we’ll be going forward with it tomorrow morning. Make sure to memorize it, we’re burning everything else before we leave.”Another nod from Arsene, taking a look down at the papers, glancing them over. It was readily apparent it would be a foolish plan…he had to admit it himself. But the fact that they were all on death’s door from the cold or hunger was enough to motivate this plan to action. His smile faded for a moment as he began to ponder the circumstances, before another clap on his back shook him out of it.“We’ll get through this, comrade,” Sven would said, a big toothy grin on his face as his ears gave a small wiggle to his excitement “just don’t go running in by yourself again. Gonna end up losing more than just your leg.”Hrost let out a small huff, a sideways glance over to Sven, irritability in his eyes. Sven made a small shift in his face and held up his hand, a small apology.“...anyway, we’ll be done with this quickly, I’m sure. Just don’t lose your head.”Arsene could only return a nod, but it did little to quell the unease in his heart. Twas rapidly approaching and there was nothing he could do to stop repeating everything in his mind, the dangers and the peril that would come with such a task. They had an advantage…but was it really enough?Another swat came to Arsene’s head as Gwyn seemed to notice his hesitation, a frown on her face. “None of that,” she chided, almost as if a parent speaking to her child “you’re going to lose your head if you keep thinking. Just go with your instincts.”Instincts? Right. He did what he could to stop himself from rolling his eyes, before letting out a soft sigh. The last thing he needed to do right now was worry his teammates. He gave a small nod, before looking back up, adopting a far more confident grin.“We’ll finish this,” he says, doing his best to wipe away any lingering ounce of doubt in his mind “we’ll get our way home after this.”Gwyn would reply with a smirk of her own, tapping him on the shoulder with her fist. The others would raise their glasses, the few and huddled between sharing a short hurrah as they psyched themselves up.Kiri would be the first to speak, bending down to grab a mug of her own, raising it up into the air. “For now…let’s spend the night forgetting about the morrow. We’ll have our victory against the Garlean bastards and we’ll have another reason to celebrate. Should we fall, then…we’ll have had at least one night where none of it mattered. And we will take as many of them with us as we can.”The others raised their mugs in unison, before downing a decent swig, Arsene following shortly after…once he finished trying to get more of a look at Kiri’s rear.The attitude of the room would continue to swelter for a bit, the fire growing dimmer as time went on. Huddled around the table, they would also continue to jeer and taunt at each other, make jokes, share stories. Concepts and ideas Arsene had never heard before. The night would wane and he would huddle next to Kiri, the faintest hint of flowers wafting from her. How in this state and how long they had been out in the field, even he was unsure.Voices coalescing, but the one thing that he felt…a sense of security. The warmth in his chest that spread throughout his body, the smile he bored even as the area around them seemed ready to erupt into flames. The only thing he needed in that moment was Kiri in his arms, her brown eyes staring into his, even as the rest of his team jeered at the sight, laughing uproariously. It was all he needed, all he wanted.His vision would return in a bleary mess, a pain ringing on the top of his skull, a moment or two needed to return to clarity. Where was he? Who was he? He blinked and he found himself in the middle of nowhere…a fire in front of him, roaring brightly, surrounded by pitch black darkness. Insects around the area, the sounds of the forest at night.He looked down…he had fallen asleep upright. Mask on the ground, the visor no longer active, laid dim. His hands, covered in dirt and blood, flecks of it on his pants. That’s right. He looked up into the fire, the ache in his body. He remembered exactly where he was. He stared into the fire, watching as the flames danced and licked amongst each other.There was only silence now.He gazed into the fire, his eyes weary and his body beginning to sink. The grip on his dagger began to falter, letting it drop onto the grass with a soft thunk. He would only continue to stare, his body unmoving. Hours before, he would feel an intense anxiety, the rush of his blood putting true fear into his body. Now…there was nothing.The only thing he could feel was a dull panging in his chest. One that did not even leave any hint of pain in his body. Just the sense that his heart was working. That he was still alive. He would be the one to live. And none of the phantoms of his memory would ever have the chance to do so again. None of those people would ever have the moment to sit and feel the same pang, to talk about it, to joke about anything.Even with the fire, there was no warmth.Staring was all he could seem to do now. Any attempt to move his body would be unheeded and his body would only continue to sink. He could feel his eyes begin to shut again, but they would force themselves back open. What point was there in being awake now? He would think this thought to himself, doing his best to keep his eyes shut, but still, they would open back up, welcoming him to the sight of the fire.His lip quivered and his eyes narrowed, trying to force themselves shut again. But still, he would be greeted again with the fire. Teeth gritted, he let himself fall to the ground, face planting into the dirt, doing whatever he could to try and shut his eyes. Fingers clawed at the soil, dragging under his nails as he kowtowed to the fire before him.It was all he could muster to let out a scream, fists clenched as he slammed them into the dirt. He just wanted to sleep. Why couldn’t he have that? He finally felt nothing, so why was it that he couldn’t sleep? If he could just sleep, it would all be over, he could rest and wake up and do it all over again.His fist would careen into the ground, slamming again and again. When he was done, all he was left with was hurt hands and his body shaking. He couldn’t sleep.Pushing himself back up, he rested on his knees, staring up at the sky. Where would he get it? His fingers brushed upon the ground as he stared at the sky, before falling onto his side. The stars were so bright…so beautiful. He knew they were, it was readily apparent. But even now, he simply just…couldn’t stop staring. Maybe if he just stared at the stars for a bit, he would finally fall asleep.The stars would be his companion…but one by one, they would fade. The sky would begin to shift as it cast the stars away, the dark blackness of the sky slowing beginning to form. It was enough to make him laugh…even the stars would not be his companions. He grabbed at the dirt again, trying to shut his eyes…but they would simply open again.Maybe…he was sick. Maybe he was simply facing something that needed a bit of healing. He wasn’t a healer, but maybe…there was someone in town? The thought pricked at something in his brain, sent him down another path. Maybe in town, there would be someone that could help him sleep? Get him to finally shut his eyes for good and then…maybe things would be a bit better.Sleep was what he needed. He couldn’t get it right now, so he had to be sick. Therefore…he needed help with falling back to sleep. Pushing himself upright once again, he would slowly collect himself, pushing to wobbly feet and grabbing his dagger. He looked around at the site in front of him. Nothing as usual. Nothing he would need to collect.Sheathing his dagger, he looked up at the sky, the sun beginning to burgeon over the horizon and peaking just enough to light up the whole area once more. He realized then, the healers would likely be waking soon from their own slumber. They would be able to help him, they would be able to give him something to sleep. And for once…he would smile. He would go into town. And he would find sleep. That was what he needed right now. He nodded to himself, sure of his new plan.With that, he would begin a long walk, knowing the way back to Gridania. There, he would find healers to help him sleep. And maybe he would find people that could show him how to find sleep on his own once again. They would find the means to help him with doing it again and not having any issues. That’s all he needed. It was all he wanted. It was a natural solution, a logical conclusion to something as simple as insomnia.And for once…he had felt something he had not felt in a long while. It was enough to keep him on his feet and push forward. There would no longer be any nights sleeping alone. Not while he could help it.
The cobblestone roadway clacked loudly, the thumping of heeled boots echoing faintly down the alleyway. Each step was rushed, the cracking of the leather sole increasing in pressure, as if the sounds alone indicated he was ready to sprint. The elezen man’s eyes darted left and right, his hurried pace and his worry masked by the underlying darkness of Ul’dahs streets. It was not a good neighborhood to be in. The cutpurses and thieves would be out and about, but they were the least of his concerns.The darkness gave way to the potential terror that clung to him…a realization that he was being followed. His hand clutched at the small satchel tucked under his arm, squeezing it as if his life depended upon it. He maintained his pace and followed down the winding, unfamiliar streets, hoping that perhaps with any eyes on him, he might be able to elude them. Left foot then right, it was all he could focus on, to keep his heart rate low.“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he breathed to himself, the air around him barely catching his words “you know you’re alright.”How had he not seen the signs before? He had been warned about this, warned about the potential dangers that would come with the journey. He had been careful to watch his words, watch his steps, follow the itinerary and make sure that not a single step was out of place. The banquet went wonderfully, pockets filled with gil as per usual, the demands had been made. By all accounts, everything went according to plan and he followed his manservants schedule, tailored made for the ball.Yet why was he now drudging through the muck and the detritus right now? Why was he fearing for his life?He turned another corner and stopped, peaking around the edge of a stone wall. The Flames were on patrol and it made him feel a little safer. Of course, he would just need to follow the entourage for a while. Slowly, he pulled himself from the shadows and stepped out to the guards, who barely acknowledged him. Lost in the mire of their endless, pointless conversations, they wouldn’t give a second glance to a man in the finest silks imaginable. No, they would just make sure he wouldn’t get mugged.“My good fellows!” he called out to them, waving his stringy hand “might I implore you to escort me back to the Quicksands? I’m afraid I’m a little lost.”They both looked at him now, addressing his existence, before looking at each other. “You can’t find your own way back?” one of the burly men questioned “you’re barely a walks away from it.”Was he now? “My good sirs, I believe it would be your duty to escort someone such as myself to where I need to now. Lest your superior learn that you denied a request from Lord Étienne himself?”They gave another look to him then to each other, before shrugging. “Awright, whatever chief,” the smaller man would say “just stick with us, I guess.”They seemed reluctant, but it didn't matter to him. Turning on their heel, they began to walk towards the intended destination, still idly chatting to themselves. They would simply be escorts after all, and it would be a quiet night to them. Étienne scowled a bit at the laxness afforded to him, his pride slightly dampened by the sheer insistence that this was nothing. No, he had every good reason to believe he was being followed.The letter he had received, warning him of a potential interloper. The missed appointment by one of the suppliers. The omnipresent feeling that he was being watched amongst the crowd, sending shivers through his spine. It was a constant feeling, one that he had swatted away at first, but at the ball? The finest and most affluent gentlemen would be invited to such a soiree, how would he still be feeling watched amidst such a secure affair?!Perhaps it was all preposterous, but the moment he spied a silhouette from the corner of his eye, a lurking figure and a brushed aside curtain…all bets were off. He would gather his clothing and his belongings and leave…he only hoped that in his rush he didn’t appear to be ramshackle. He clutched at his back, scoffing at the thought. No, that didn’t matter. He needed to escape, he needed an out, now.He looked over to the guards, who were still busy talking amongst one another, before one of them bends over and chortles, discussing some infantile joke more than likely. Étienne began to open his mouth, to bark out an order…but something was wrong.The world swirled for a brief moment, colors blending in with the darkness. He didn’t even notice the pain in the side of his neck, the hand that held his body by the side. The satchel would release from his arm, but there would be no thud. His legs began to lose feeling, his ankles giving way first and sliding out from underneath him.The colors would continue to swirl…and then fade away.Nightmares would flood in, abyssal pain clinging to every vision that passed by as he dreamt, the horror and the red mixing together in a conglomerate batch. Pain, anxiety, fear. It was all he could experience in the moments of that dark moment, horror and fear that was never ending. He felt as if he would experience nothingness and pain merged for the rest of time.A splash of water would awaken him from that cruel world, gasping and forcing his eyes awake. His body was shaking, he couldn’t move his arms. His eyes continued to dart left and right, the colors of the world slowly returning to him.“Wake up.”A demonic voice spoke to him. A voice he had never heard before. The red began to shift back, but it was in the streak of lines sitting before him. The lines molded, bright lights upon a steely mask.“You’re going to answer a few questions.”There was the voice again. Gods, it was daggers to his ears, a strange mixture of screeching of the seven hells and a low rumble, utterly inhuman and archaic. It reminded him of old Allag technology that would start with a hum. Constantly masking his voice.“You’re suffering from the effects of the poison. Give it time. You’ll be talking right in a few moments.”Poison? Étienne opened his mouth, but all he could utter was a screech of pain, his voice warbling and rough. Convulsions began to wrack his body, his arms flailing against the restraints that held him to a chair, his body forced to dance upon the whims of whatever the masked man had forced into him. And still, the demon would watch, the lines on his face flickering softly.“Étienne Ambois. That is your name.”The pain wracked in his body, dancing and wild as he screamed out another gasp. Mercifully, it would end shortly thereafter, as if the strings had been cut from his body and was allowed to simply rest. Drool formed on the sides of his mouth…he could feel it. But he could barely see anymore, his vision slightly blurred.After another moment, he could finally feel the strength to raise his head, to look this demon in the face. And he could only offer a brief look of horror. It was not a demon, but a man…likely a Hyur. Sitting almost a fulm away from him, watching him like a hawk. There was no movement from him…a statue and a look that seemed to dig into his very core. It was familiar…it was dangerous.“Y-You!” he gurgled out, before spitting up…blood? He let out another roar of agony, attempting to fight against his restraints, the hempen rope cutting into his flesh. “Y-You’re! The one! Watching me!”It all made sense now, the absolute fear and suspicion he felt. Every moment since he stepped foot in this gods forsaken city. It was all him.“What do you wannnnt!” he growled, unable to keep his voice restrained. He could feel the blood pumping in his skull, iron in his mouth. His vision was returning, but he could feel the fire in his body.The demon was silent for a moment, almost as if he were…amused? There wasn’t any indication, but that subtle shift of his head, and the way the lines dimmed and lit up. It was as if he were enjoying the sight. It only made his anger worse, flailing more against the restraints.“You’ll pay for this!” he growled “I’ll fucking kill you and all of your family! YOU INSOLENT LITTLE FUCK!”He struggled again, until there was a crack. He let out another roar in pain, before letting himself slide back. The veil had been lifted and he realized…no, this was the poison. He couldn’t feel his hand…did he break his wrist? It was numb…and then slowly the pain would set in, a red hot fire that burned in his hand that forced another scream. It was the most unimaginable pain he ever felt in his life…even from the days of him as a child and falling upon the stone ground, breaking every bone in his leg.Tears streamed down his face, his mind an utter mess and swirl of emotion. Pain and rage and fear and sadness…all meshing into one. The demon leaned forward slightly, the flickering of the lines on his mask only continuing to brighten…it hurt his eyes a little, having to stare into that pit of red for so long.“I am looking for someone,” he said in a terse voice, the cruel machinery continuing to mask and warble his voice “I am looking for someone in your employ. You are going to tell me where he is.”“W-What?”The demon tossed something onto his lap…a stack of documents. It took a moment to squint his eyes, but he could spy the name at the top.“W-What? What in the worlds do you want him for?” It was his manservant. The one he had known for years, trusted with every detail of his life. Helped him to dress, helped him to maintain his meetings, kept his bed warm with him.“That is none of your concern,” the demon spoke, shaking his head “where is he?”Étienne shook his head, the mere act alone sending another dizzying spell through his body, the world taking a sudden turn. He coughed up more blood, the pain a constant hindrance to his thought process. He stared at the documents, realizing that the crimson he had spewed had fallen upon his manservant’s portrait.“Why the fuck do you care?” he asked the masked man, looking up at him “what do you want with him!? What is this about!?”The demon reached for his side, pulling something out…the sheen of metal as it brushed against the leather of his holster echoing faintly in the room. He gripped the dagger by the hilt and rested it gently against his lap, letting the blade force towards his hostage.“Is this worth your life?” he asked “because there is no reason I see to letting you keep it.”Étienne was stunned for a moment, looking at the blade on the demon’s lap before looking up to it, taking in its red lines again. “N-No…please…I don’t want to die…”“Then you are wasting time and my patience,” the demon echoed forward, his voice raising in volume and lowering in tone “you will tell me where this individual is.”Étienne thought for a moment, racking his brains. “A-Alright, alright…please, just…one moment.” The pain was intense, but he did everything he could to remember the last thing his manservant had said to him. He recalled the moment as much as he could, but he was so busy with his affairs and trying to make his airship boarding…it was all too much.“I-I can’t remember…honest!, I was busy with other affairs, my manservant doesn’t make it a habit of telling me what he was going to do.”The demon remained still for a moment, before rising to his feet. He held the blade at his side, circling around Étienne, a disturbing fear of the edge of the blade growing in his throat. He winced and cowered away from the figure, trying to maintain some distance as the figure circled around behind him.“You have a wife. Her name is Esme. You recently married, but you had a child. She cares for him at your estate, spending most of her waking time taking care of the little thing, as you go off and fuck the slaves you capture.”Étienne felt a lump in his throat, pure fear racing through his body. Fear froze him solid, his already pale skin turning white. The demon circled back around, facing him once again, the blade having switched hands. The blade was moving slowly towards him, the demon’s every breath allowing the blade to dance ilms closer, the faint light glistening against the blade.“She will die. You have a combined 11 servants that you keep around your estate. They attend to various things, such as cooking, your laundry, cleaning up for any of the affairs that you have in the privacy of your own bed. They all will die.”Étienne tried to pull away, tried to run through the back of his chair, that blade coming ever closer, the demon forcing it closer, chasing him with the blade with the speed of a slow walk.“Your son will be the son of a failed nobleman and he will live in orphanages and likely become a drunk. Because I will kill your mother, I will kill your father, I will kill your two brothers, I will dig up the bones of the brother you killed many years ago and I will put them all to flame.I will scatter their ashes into the night soil. Your estate will become a smoldering crater.”There was nowhere else to run, the blades edge connecting to his cheek, the edge dancing gently upon the surface, Étienne’s body unable to cease shaking. He felt every nerve in his body tell him to run, but the more he struggled with his restraints, the more they dug into his flesh.“The congregation will learn of what you really do. I will inform them of every detail of your affairs…every last transaction and every last person that was chained under your command. They will seize all of your fortunes, every last smoldering wooden beam that failed to turn to cinder. Your son will die penniless, in a broken future that you have allowed for him.”The blade cut into his flesh, the sharp sting and familiar sense of pain rocketing through his spinal cord, the slow burn and agony of whatever he was injected with sending him into another fit of hell. The blade was so sharp, it was going to cut through his cheek if he put enough pressure. Copper and iron was all he could taste, all he could smell..“They will never find you. They will simply assume you went insane and killed yourself after murdering your family. Died in the wilds. A sad, pitiable affair.”The blade pulled away with a swish, cutting more of Étienne’s face and forcing another yelp of agony from his lips, his body burning from head to toe. Amidst the pain, there was terror, terror that should he suffer another glancing cut like that, it would be the end of him…everything would be lost. He tried to force the words out, but incoherent babbling and mewling was all he could muster…a pathetic sound that he never would’ve uttered in his life.He felt the point of his blade next to his knee…just where the bone rested. He looked down in pure horror and saw the demon dance the blade’s tip, circling it and carving more of the steel into his skin. Another soft wave of agony that hit him, just from that smell pressure alone. This was too much, it was completely unbearable.“W-Wait! Please! For the love of Halone, stop!” he shouted out with every last ounce of strength he had to exclaim, his body rapidly shaking, his leg trying to move away from the blade “I-I don’t know where he is! He told me that he was going to stay behind; told me that he was going to look after the manor! I don’t know where he is!”The blade would cease its dance for a brief moment, the flicker of lines on the demon’s mask beginning to swirl a little…it was almost incoherent. The only thing he could think of was that…it was responding to him thinking.“Do you think I would believe that?” the demon voiced “What makes you so certain he went back to the manor? Why wouldn’t he be here, right now?”Étienne looked at the demon with a mixture of horror and absolute confusion, his mind unable to make sense of his questioning. “W-What do you mean?” he asked reflexively “I saw him! He was waving at me from the airship landing! There’s no reason to think he came after me!”
Silence would grow for an uncomfortable moment, the blade pulling away for a minute. The demon rested his head for a moment, his fingers hooking onto the lower part of his helmet, as if attempting to stroke his chin. The only sounds Étienne could hear was his hammering heartrate and his frantic breath, his eyes darting around, attempting to spy something, anything he could use as a weapon.
It was dark…far too dark. Nothing could be seen in the midst of fog that obscured his vision, the drug or something else in the air working against him. His wrists chaffed and bled openly, he could feel the crimson rush past his fingers with how hard he was attempting to break his restraint. The thought of degloving himself to escape came up…and he was near the point of doing it.But before he could, the demon would rise once again, taking a step away and towards the wall. He was pacing, back and forth, as if lost in the confines of his mind and attempting to deduce a puzzle piece. Étienne continued to fight against the restraint, feeling something give. A stroke of hope and happiness struck him at once, his hand was slipping away! He could feel the grip of his fingers pull at the rope, undoing more of the restraint, his eyes attempting to stay locked to the man before him.He could use the chair…gods, he could just stand up and bash him with the chair. It was the only thing that could work. Could he stand? The adrenaline flushed through his body and it was the only thing he could think of. With some surety, he pulled the restraints clear and gripped the back of the chair. With a frantic yell, he dug his heels in and attempted to throw the chair at the man, throwing everything in his power to do so.Except…nothing happened. The chair exploded in mid air. Pain crashed along his body and he felt himself lifted from his feet. The wall crashed against his back, forcing the air out of his lungs. The pain and the lack of air would force his image to go black.When he came to, he could only feel agony in his system. His vision was blurred and he could only see feet before him. Slowly, he raised his head, only to let out a scream. His body forced itself back, his body slamming back against the wall, even the sting of wooden splinters coating his chest not enough to take away from his inherent fear.The red glow of the mask hummed softly, a hovering figure behind the demon. In the low light, he couldn’t see any particular glow of skin or hue to his figure, but there was something that did. The hovering figure swirled behind him, a bright shade of white in stark contrast to the pure dark that stood before him. A twisted reflection and gnarled face greeted him, the sunken proportions and facial features staring at him with pure hatred that was only overshadowed by locks of jet black hair. Claws hovered around the man’s arm, ready to protect in the moment.“It’s almost funny…” he said softly, the man finally chuckling, each small laugh forcing his chest up and down “...out of all the people to try something like this, I never expected you to be the one. You’ve got balls.”A swish of his fingers and the specter descended down with a decidedly smaller hand. It grabbed Étienne by the throat, cutting off his circulation almost immediately. Slowly, his body began to rise, feet no longer touching the floor. He could feel the blood in his head, the panic and horror returning, legs flailing wildly.“You’re no longer useful.”Étienne’s eyes widened, and he felt everything drop. He opened his mouth to scream, but all he could hear was a gurgle. His neck was closing, there was no more blood to give. He felt intense pressure in his head, his body flailing and fighting as much as he could, tears streaming down his eyes. He flung his arms at the specter, but nothing was doing anything. The only thing he could hear was a shrill shriek, as the banshee opened her mouth and screamed.===========The banshee screamed and a rush of blood filled the room. The body of what used to be Étienne crashed to the floor, an additional thump accompanying the drop a second later. What used to be a small storeroom in the middle of a warehouse was now covered in blood and bone fragments.Arsene looked down to the body, examining the wounds. Neck was snapped clean in two, a deep flowering of what used to be neck muscles bulging out from the side. What used to be the spinal cord was now simply a pattering of dust, blood and excess gore dripping out onto the floor. He looked up to the specter…even now he could still sense the animosity coming from her.“Feed,” he commanded, before turning around, moving towards the satchel. The banshee would comply, moving towards the corpse, a soft shriek uttered as she began to take the aether from it.It was no longer any concern to him. The only thing that mattered was that he knew where the target was. Grabbing the satchel that he took from the slave trader, he poured the contents out once again, sifting through the paperwork. Family photo, trade documentation, a few pieces of what appeared to be hair. None of that mattered. What did matter was a small black booklet, one that was bound with a leather strap.Ripping the leather off, he opened up the booklet and let his eyes wander across the pages, his reading unaffected by the sounds of his avatar replenishing her reserves. His eyes darted back and forth, the room lit up by his visual display from the mask he wore. Even the blood smeared along the visor would impair him from reading the contents.He grimaced. Nothing noteworthy. Just a list of recent arrivals of slaves and the destinations they were taken from. He skimmed through more of the pages, hoping to find something in particular…until one name stood out. “Oskar Valandius,” he said, nodding his head “a simple boy yet taken in as a manservant…” What a cruel fate this boy had.The history was fairly simple it seemed. Initially taken in as a slave, but was…workable to Étienne’s personal tastes it seemed. The entries showed a blank entry for any amount of gil or other slaves being offered, instead a special exception seemed to have been carved out. That was roughly 5 years ago. He continued to read further, but it seemed to have no further usage, as it began upon another entry about a girl that had been found alongside him.He shut the booklet with a thump and tossed it over his shoulder, landing in the crimson behind him. Arsene turned on his heel and got a look at his avatar beginning her feast. Crossing his arms, he simply looked towards the door and tapped his foot, waiting for it to be over with. Normally, he wouldn’t have her do this, but it had been a short while since he last killed…the residual aether was no longer enough. Kiri was fighting back harder and there was no longer an assurance that she would be following her contract. So, he had to spoil her. Just this once.The moments would pass and finally, the banshee would rise, shining in a pure white, her shifting and misshapen features looking square at Arsene. He returned her gaze and nodded, to which she charged at him. Inside she would go once more, a shadow attached by a leash. It was always an uncomfortable feeling, the wash of emotions that suddenly gripped at his core. He grit his teeth and bore it, before stepping away from the desk. His boots clicked against the floor with a sticky reverb, trailing bits and pieces of what remained of the slave trader as he went.The sun would shine on him once more as he stepped from the storehouse, his armor and visor covered in a smattering of blood. He gazed up at the sun, getting an angle for its position…knowing that it likely had just risen. A smile came to his face, knowing that he would be coming. The bait was far too succulent for any prey to ignore.The room would be prepared. An elegant horror show brought to life amidst the viscera and the mundane. He would find the means of catching his prey off guard, ensuring that Oskar would walk into a horror show. He would find no mercy. No care. He would be met with a trap that he would be unable to escape from. His fate was already sealed.Would it always be this way? Always an elegant showing? Could he perhaps have a bit of mundanity to his roster? Would perhaps slicing his throat and leaving him to bleed have a better effect than leaving his calling card? He wouldn’t know. The only thing he did know was that he was not here to present a mundane show. He would craft an elegant painting of carnage that would leave the city shaking.And then he would be paid. A similar tale, one told and spun into his web again and again. A ritual and a habit. A hint of pride and a sense of apathy. It would all blend together in the end. So long as he had another bag of gil, he would leave fear and horror wherever he went. Oskar would just be another boring face amongst a list of many. A thread to weave in his tapestry.And so he would wait…he would do what he was paid to do. He would become the Spider once again…and leave a web of horrors.
Surface Level
Adventurous
Scars run across Arsene's body like a web, flowing deep and are indicative of numerous bite or slashing wounds. His ability to somehow show up at random times as well show a deep level of fondness for travel, the ability to be unchained to the world. Showing an interested in the lands or stories describing them will almost immediately get his attention.Thirst for Knowledge
Ever since a young lad, Arsene has always been infinitely curious about the cultures surrounding him. Having grown in an abundance of differing opinions and attitudes, he is keen on learning as much as he can. Offering a unique perspective or something he never heard of before will almost certainly force a few questions from him.Deeper Level
Strange Aether
For those more attuned to aether and can understand it at a deeper level compared to the usual person, Arsene seems to almost have a split. A faint swirl of something lurks beneath the surface, but it's always fleeting. The moment it seems to be noticeable, it falls away.Odd Mask
For anyone who has deeper connections to the underworld, Arsene's mask seems to evoke some unsettling feelings. Perhaps not sure, or fully understanding of just what that mask represented for a dark period of time for the realm. Tread carefully, it is a past he purposefully keeps buried.
Hey there! Thanks for visiting my page!I put a lot of effort into roleplaying with Arsene and enjoy creating dynamic new storylines to enjoy!A couple of things to note however:Scatteredbrained
I am a person who has a one track mind about things and often forgets certain stuff. This does not mean I do not wish to RP with you, it just means that I am a forgetful person and sometimes have to be poked.PST
I live on the western bend of the USA, so all of my default times are in PST (UTC -7:00). If you wish to plan something with me, please be sure to include what time zone you are talking about.Discord or IG?
I personally prefer to do roleplay in game, makes things easier to flow. But I'm not adverse to Discord at all! Feel free to ask and let me know what works best for you.IC =/= OOC
I am not Arsene, Arsene is not me. Any particular feelings or concerns you have need to fall under this lens. If you cannot talk with me like a mature adult regarding any concerns you have, you will not receive another response from me.Photos?
Any photos you see here are done by me. If you wish to look at some of my other work, please check out my personal card for photography, at the top of this page.