Iarlaith ó Ciardha
Profile
Basic Information
Name:
Iarlaith ó Ciardha
Nickname(s):
Stitches
Age:
79
Birth Date:
10th Frost, 8216
Height:
5'9 (175cm)
Gender:
Male
Race:
Dark Elf
Class:
Rogue
Occupation:
ex-Queen's Assassin
Guild(s):
Enhancement(s):
Dark Blossoming
Therras' Favour
Likes
Dislikes
Dogs
Personality
Avoidant | Abrasive | Envious | Hypocritical | Principled | [Situationally] Kind | [Specifically] Playful
Despite whatever resting scowl Stitches has playing about his face, the last thing he wants is trouble, and the least that others could do is leave him alone. Surely, curtness and snark invites anything but the same in return (sometimes it worked before. Sometimes he just dug his own grave).
But with all that'd transpired, with his earnest, wholehearted purpose in the guild trampled underfoot, with the place he'd come to call home a shattered ghost – Stitches veers to his roots once more, flawed and taciturn and ever guarded, yet genuine and warmer where he can trust. There's little envy to be felt when all wear the same shoes. No condescension wading equal depths. Favours he still keeps near to heart and blades ever closer – but amid Reluir's ruins, without zealots guiding them... pessimist as he is, perhaps it is kindness, and not lies, that he ought to offer his fellows now.
History
Stitches' life began among children left to Linhythe's wayside, scouring streets and pockets with sweet faces or sleight of hand. While peers delved to darker deeds under wealthier shadows, he remained afloat with petty theft and menial labour, fearful of risk.
But it was risk one night that changed his life, where in a thwarted thievery and knife to his throat, Eithne Ó Ciardha only took pity on him for their shared race.
Although Stitches was her assailant, she obliged the stray's frustration, bitten with a desperation he'd harboured all these disparate years as an elf among humans. Would the dark elven host of Reluir, enigmatic in hearsay, welcome their wayward own?
In playful and careless charity, Eithne gave him all that he'd failed to take by force: coin, clue, and company, to seek the mountains she hailed from.
Arriving in Reluir long after Eithne disappeared from the journey, Stitches immersed himself in his new culture. But an outsider would always be one, with nothing to grow and few to call friends. As savings dwindled by his 35th year, he sought the Ó Ciardhas to repay the initial favour.
Unimpressed with the boy's wandering but amused by his seeking, Eithne permitted him to find his footing under her family's roof. Stitches dedicated himself to each errand despite his gripes, and eventually, with deepening interest and her careful consideration, Eithne truly took him under her wing – for covert work that better suited his potential she spied.
Trained in technique and Relan thought, by his fifties Stitches became a Queen's Assassin with a gifted name: Iarlaith. In his first decade, he made Eithne proud – or at least spared her the bother of the guild's more boring footwork. But inevitably, lesser experience and uncertainties dashed any hope of a smooth apprenticeship; a single oversight cost him an eye and ear.
Bitterly damaging as it was, what he lost cemented his path. Be it his mentor's broken faith, or his new physical shortcomings – the last thing Stitches ever wanted was to be useless to those who gave him purpose.
Current Story
More concerned with state-domestic issues than the neighbouring Empire's over the years, the situations clashed when their Crown Princess undermined her guards' trust and fled to Koben– shortly before the Queen sought possession of Iadlain. Although he failed his assignment, Stitches stood by Reluir's orders even after coincidence brought them before the princess once more, witnessing the devastation of Adabrene poison against their kind.
After the respite in St. Beitris' Feast following Balla's poisoning, Stitches was equally bewildered by the Queen's subsequent ambitions. With their summoned, towering shadow attacking indiscriminately, he contended with others' decisions against the guild's orders in this disaster.
Strangely, those arduous weeks did not further his doubt of those above. It only cemented what he'd cultivated over his short, long years in service. As Princess Lorna's and the Red Torc's rebellion came to light, despite the increasing cruelty of the Queen's orders against her subjects and their plights he knew far too well, Stitches still stood by the monarch's rule. His obedience rooted deep in a selfishness to belong, not out of some grander altruism.
So when the shadow– their god– rose again to catastrophic result, Stitches understood it as a karmic reckoning. This cause cost him the land he'd come to call home.
He trusted in, yet cared nothing for the Queen's religious mysteries. He held no regrets about who he was, and what sins he and his colleagues committed against their own. But he resented being left behind in the dark... as always, for this last time. Now without the guild to guide his actions, and too bitter from abandonment to follow Atros' call like his deceased peers, Stitches stayed in Reluir's remains to do what he'd always done best in childhood – stick close to his friends, and survive.
Additional Info
Blossoming characteristics: Black sclera, nails, mucosa
[ stash refs ]
Refers to others by nicknames (...or insults). The same goes for himself hence his preferred handle, a habit from his Linhian childhood. He'll only lean towards proper names in respected company.
Missing his right eye and ear. Most of the scarring is hidden by the eye patch. Wears a glass eye underneath and likes to play with it sometimes.
(monocular eyesight; his lacking ear's hearing & balance weren't damaged to the same extent but he is slower to pinpoint sources or focus in crowds compared to other scout-class)
Carries around a red piece of cloth from his mentor. It's just a rag but it has its uses.
Favoured poison, daggers and alchemical concoctions. Keeps wires and garrote in right gauntlet and throwing blades throughout his form, though long-range depth perception is less reliable.
Magic lends his handling of wired weapons an assurance otherwise unwise. [mage peripheral]
While not devoutly religious, he wore an Atros halo earring for some gesture of belonging and identifies with Reluir as his home. He was more devoted to the 'idea' of the guild and monarchy than the people within them. Now that they're gone, he has to come to terms with all he had neglected in the lies of his service: his genuine relations with others.
Relations
Eithne Ó Ciardha
A more moderate assassin in her mid 200's; a laid-back joker, if a condescending and whimsical-aired rogue. Iarlaith looked up to his mentor figure since a younger age. Disappointing her after crippling himself, he was still working to recover the trust she'd placed in him as a student... but after Reluir's shattering, she has since disappeared.
Stitches calls her 'Alley' since he met her in an alley.
Aoibhínneves Ó Ciardha
Iarlaith has nothing against the Shrimp, but Aoibhinn's just easy to tease. She led him to the Ciardha household during his wandering in Reluir and for that he appreciates her, however eccentric and overly pious she imposes herself to be. Of the Ciardha women, he feels most at ease around her with her equally foreign roots. But she veered more and more strange since the Queen’s war, no doubt from family and losses. God's plan this, God's plan that. Still doesn't make it feel any better, does it. Where's she run off to die now?
Marischal Maxwell
A consistent civilian supplier and what he'd call a friend, few as those are. The two get along in similarly enough fashions, Iarlaith's mischief aside. Mister Marbles.
Stitches frequents Mar's place now for more than wares. It's basically like his new home... (probably to Mar's chagrin)
Phéarel Hadreth
A fellow guildmate, Stitches is rather fond of Phéarel for her level-headed mindset, adaptability and practiced form. Despite having known her only for the past few years, their initial meeting and frequent assignments together have placed Phéarel into a strange position in Iarlaith's eyes – something both peculiarly drawing and ultimately envying.
After Reluir's shattering, they've since gone separate ways to find their personal footholds, but have trust they'll see each other again eventually. See ya, Silv.
Gisal Gill'losa
Sis G :) gg ur the best ABCs teacher know that deep down
The Sister who taught him how to read and write Canan when he first came to Reluir. Though they fell out of contact for decades, they reconnected to look for the child who the Flower Necklace belonged to, though the search was fruitless. Overall, a real aid and listening ear. Sure, maybe Gisal thought he wanted to Change his Tune, become a Monk, help the Lay People, but he'll suffer weird impressions from friends for the sake of work. In current times, she's the one he hopes most to be safe, with such a heart (and weird bread) as hers.
Ciarán
Fellow guildmate. Illusionists are usually by far a least favourite sort despite all that they offer, as most he's met are Insufferable. Sparkles wasn't far off the mark, but still passably All Right.
Since the guild's end, Stitches has come to see Ciaran's smile less as painfully sparkling and more desperate to cling to levity (doesn't make those stories any less obnoxious though). In his own way, Stitches genuinely tried to accommodate in their snowy travels together. Whether perceived is another matter entirely!
Almha Mag Aoidh
A pretty face, if an unbearably chatty leathersmith whose shop he frequented (despite all her dogs). Although having known her for decades, he would hesitate to call her a friend because of that talkative habit of hers, and his secrets.
After Atros rose, she told him the truth of how she felt, arms-length despite her attempts to close the distance. It prompted him to consider how he faces others now that the assassins' guild is no more. Nattie Gabby.
Esme Ó Súileabháin
Some duty-shirking boy that Stitches had by chance run into in the past. He remembers little of Esme except that he was the son of the Ridir who owned the land at that time. While their first encounter was short and less than sweet, their later occasional run-ins in recent years have been nothing noteworthy.
Until after Reluir shattered. Now, when it comes to borrowing a carrot or two from Tìr Torclann...
Noah Thelrin
First met unknowingly to either in the streets of Linhythe, Stitches and Noah’s brief antagonistic childhood contact consisted of a theft, a few stumbles, and a hearty shoe to the head after choice words thrown over retreating shoulders. Decades later, he next encountered the now-Imperial Guard in a disagreeable fashion (🔪) in the battles to claim Iadlain. But his latest impression of Noah during Firefall lauded him as capable enough to protect their runaway princess... if wholly undeserving of that post.
Ara
boobs
Mixed feelings, much of it irritable and most of which isn't her fault. But she looks the sort who smiles and laughs at everything and he can't stomach those who have seemingly no qualms with anything whatsoever… it’s annoying (and he’s a little envious). Those who slip in and out of others’ lives so smoothly are hardly trustworthy.
Esther
A skilful sage and a reliable artist in her craft, Stitches was keenly interested in her services and wares when he first frequented her shop. Requesting her aid once out on the field led them to a peculiar agreement between customer and shopkeep; continued patronage, in turn for understanding.
Then Esther posed his only obstacle during his attempt to assassinate the Count of Iadlain. Should've nipped the Rosebud after all...
