Ari Reid
Your fate is not decided by the wants of another.
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NAME Ari Reid RACE Breton GENDER Male
OCCUPATION Cartographer; Explorer AGE 22 BIRTHSIGN The Serpent
EYES Muted Green HAIR Auburn HEIGHT 5'10"
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Appearance
One of Ari's most striking feature is his eyes -- they're green, but just barely, the color mostly faded and clouded over, indicating that he's either entirely blind, or close to it. In spite of this, he moves with confidence and purpose, guided by an enchanted staff that's rarely out of his hands. The staff itself is intricate, a pale green orb centered at the head of it.With a need for control that might otherwise be out of his grasp, Ari is usually very meticulously groomed. His face is clean-shaven and his auburn hair is closely-cropped and never allowed to overgrow. His attire, always well-tailored to fit his medium-to-slim build, tends to favor dark greens and dark browns. He looks to be in his early twenties and he typically projects the image of a young man who has it all figured out, even if that isn't entirely true.Ari is seldom seen without his constant companion, a four-eared ragdoll cat named Atlas. More often than not, the blue-eyed grimalkin can be found draped across the Breton's shoulders in an almost regal fashion, as though life is simply something to be observed from a comfortable perch. The cat is unbothered by anything, content to watch the world pass by while Ari remains caught up in the constant performance of being exactly who he thinks he's supposed to be.
Personality
Confident to a fault, Ari exudes self-assurance that often borders on arrogance. Even in situations that are beyond him, he does a good job of pretending to act like he knows exactly what to do, harboring an unshakable belief in his own abilities. Quick-witted, he can be an engaging conversationalist and is personable enough, though his sarcasm and prying nature can be grating. While he can be impatient with certain topics or people, his temper is difficult to provoke and when it does flare, it's usually very short-lived and he rarely wastes the time or energy on holding grudges or harboring ill-will.Lurking beneath his overconfident exterior, there is a thin layer of insecurity that he does a good job of concealing for the most part. There are moments where it can be gleaned -- an insight that he's not quite as capable or in control as he'd like other people to believe he is -- but he's quick to brush these occasions aside dismissively.In spite of his stubborn and overly self-assured nature, there's a depth to his curiosity; he's genuinely interested in people and the world around him, which can often lead to him incessantly hounding others with questions. He's often content to listen to others discuss both subjects he has little to no knowledge on as well as share in conversations he has expertise in.
Hooks
» Cartographer With the help of his enchanted staff and specialty ink, Ari is able to meticulously map out overland locations that he visits. He specializes in underground areas such as caverns, tombs and ruins, able to reproduce their layouts on paper without having to explore the entirety of the site.
If your character needs a location mapped out for further exploration, Ari is able to provide.» Adept Arcanist A relatively skilled arcanist, Ari is a natural with magic... to a point. While his connection to his tome is undeniable, he struggles with gauging the distance of his spells and at times the power of his spellcraft can end up either woefully impotent or far too forceful, rendering his magic often unpredictable.
Though showing a great deal of raw, natural aptitude, Ari has a lot of room to grow and refine his craft and could use the help of a mentor.» Relic & Knowledge Seeker Both his cartography and his shop work are used to support his main goal of knowledge-seeking. His quest for relics is less about obtaining the artifacts for keeps and more to learn about them and it's painfully evident that he cares little about profiting from his discoveries more than he does about researching them.
His seeking gives him reason to travel nearly any corner of Tamriel as well as to hire any number of characters from mercenaries to sailors, guides and tipsters.» Shopkeeper Alongside his twin sister, Aine, Ari mans a small family-owned shop in Evermore. Ari makes maps and his sister works as an alchemist. They also sell minor relics and other curiosities that they come across in their travels.
Anyone is welcome to stop by the shop in search of odds and ends.» The Sight With the touch of an object or a person, occasionally Ari is able to divine information through "visions" (these "visions" are typically bestowed upon him through senses other than sight, such as by sound, touch, scent and even taste, though very, very rarely he does actually see something). This can include catching glimpses of the future or the past or revealing hidden knowledge. Unfortunately, he doesn't have much control over this ability and it seems to happen at random: sometimes it occurs when he doesn't intend it to at all, and at other times, no matter how hard he tries, he can't will it into fruition. Most of the time, he keeps his hands gloved to prevent an accidental incident of Seeing.
This can be used to loose information in regards to your character and their backstory or own personal hooks without them having to come right out and say it. It can also lead to inadvertent awkward revelations.» Embittered Cultist Born into a small cult of Hermaeus Mora worshippers, Ari and his sister have lived their entire lives under the thumb of their wildly devout relatives. With his sister toted as the 'chosen one' and burgeoning responsibilities piled on their shoulders as they've grown up, Ari has slowly grown disillusioned to the entire ordeal and is seeking a way out for himself and Aine.
This hook will likely require quite a bit of lead-up roleplay, but essentially it's prisonbreak: cult edition.» Daedric Worshiper In spite of his desire to depart from his family's cult, having grown up surrounded by those who dedicated themselves to Hermaeus Mora, Ari is a devoted worshiper of Mora himself. He has no interest in the Divines nor any interest in casting aside what he's known his whole life.
Ari lacks a lot of knowledge of the Divines and shows little to no interest in them, though he does not publically denounce them nor does he advertise his devotion to Hermaeus Mora. In that same vein, he has no real issue with others who follow questionable practices.
Stories
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Cutting Ties He knew it was Dirk behind him before the other man even spoke a word. It was in the way he carried himself – the way he walked, practically skulking with every step, his movements furtive and deliberately cautious. The irony of it all was that, at least to Ari, it made him stand out more, not less.
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No Way Out The passing of Eckhart was abrupt and unexpected to Ari, who had visited the older man only a matter of days ago. Their last conversation had ended on a hopeful note, regardless of the fact that it had been filled with uneasiness and uncertainty regarding Aine's well-being.
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Cutting Ties
He knew it was Dirk behind him before the other man even spoke a word. It was in the way he carried himself – the way he walked, practically skulking with every step, his movements furtive and deliberately cautious. The irony of it all was that, at least to Ari, it made him stand out more, not less. Dirk had always moved in such a manner, even since they had been children. Though Dirk was a couple years older than Ari and Aine, he had grown up alongside the twins and they knew one another quite well, their families intertwined.Dirk had caught up to him just as he was entering the shop, one gloved hand on the keys to unlock the front door, his other hand gripping his staff firmly. The staff had given Dirk away, alerting Ari to his presence as he came slinking up behind him in his usual slouched demeanor. Without turning around, Ari finished unlocking the shop and spoke up.“What do you want, Dirk?” His tone was mildly impatient and he made no attempt to hide his annoyance at the other man’s presence.“Damn,” Dirk laughed lightly, pausing a few steps away, his posture perking up some. “How do ya do that?”Ari had explained, on several occasions, since the two of them had been children, how his staff worked for Dirk, but it apparently always went in one ear and out the other. He didn’t bother to try and make this another learning opportunity. Shouldering the shop door open, he pocketed the keys and headed inside. He also didn’t repeat his question, hoping that his old ‘friend’ would either take the hint and get to the point or leave him alone.“Where’s Aine?” Dirk’s voice was closer; he had climbed the steps of the shop’s stoop and now lingered at the threshold of the open doorway.Ari froze as he reached the counter, his free hand coming to rest atop it. Now he did repeat his question in an attempt to deflect, giving himself an opportunity to think of an excuse for where his sister was in the meantime. “What do you want, Dirk?”“You got a letter.”Ari could hear the rustling of paper and then Dirk’s soft footfalls as the man crossed the shop floor to meet him at the counter. “Here,” he offered once he extended the letter outward, a vocal indication for Ari’s benefit that the letter was being offered.Turning back towards Dirk, Ari reached for the letter and Dirk deposited it in his gloved hand.“Need me to read it to ya?”“...No,” Ari said, a little too quickly. “Aine can do that for me, thanks.”“Where’s she at, anyhow? Your father was askin’ after her.”“She, ah…” There was a brief pause before Ari continued. “She’s still at the Wyrd Tree,” he came up with the lie rather swiftly. “Took quite a keen interest in it.”“Wyrd Tree, hm?” While Ari couldn’t see it, Dirk’s brows raised skeptically. Ari could hear the doubt in the man’s voice.“Yeah, we met a Wyress while visiting Glenumbra, got an invite to see the Wyrd Tree. I’m actually going to be heading back there shortly, I just needed to tend to some business at the shop. If you could let our mother and father know that we’ll be away a while longer, I’d greatly appreciate it…”“Well, if Aine ain’t even here right now, why don’t you let me read that letter for ya, then?”“Because it’s probably not drawn up in fingerpaints, Dirk. Just mind your own business.” Ari was growing increasingly exasperated with Dirk’s insistence. If he wasn’t concerned that the letter was, in fact, about Aine and her disappearance, he would have had no problem letting his childhood friend read it to him. If it had anything to do with where Aine was though, and if it meant trouble, he knew that Dirk would go running to their parents. They may have been ‘friends’, but Dirk was loyal to the cult’s agenda above all else.“Y’wound me,” he responded with an undertone of malice. A brief, uncomfortable silence lapsed between them where Ari was unable to parse what Dirk may have been thinking. Unable to read his expression or body language, he was left to simply stand there in that uneasy silence, holding the letter firmly in one hand, waiting. Finally, just when he was about to suggest Dirk leave, the man made the decision on his own.“I’ll be sure to let your father know I saw you. Y’know he’s been worried that you and Aine ain’t been stoppin’ in much lately.” Before Ari had a chance to offer any sort of lame excuse as to why this might have been, or even a proper excuse – that they’d been out doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing, exploring and seeking relics – Dirk was already on his way out, his soft footsteps receding back out into the busy streets of Evermore. He didn’t bother closing the door behind himself.Crossing the room, Ari shut the door and locked it. The paper was somewhat crumpled in his hand by now, useless to him for the time being. He turned, resting his back against the door. He would need someone to read it to him, but not Dirk. It would have to be someone he trusted.
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The small two-story farmhouse sat like a poorly-kept secret nestled among the tall grass just outside of Evermore, its weathered but welcoming porch whispering stories of summers past quietly beneath Ari's boots as he crossed its length. There was nothing overtly special about this house -- it was two floors and a cellar, modest and a little drafty -- but because his uncle lived here, Ari loved it. Had the building been a run-down shack with a leaky roof full of vermin, rot and sinking into the ground, he would have felt the same thrum in his chest and eagerness to open the front door as he did in that moment.The familiar click of the latch was audible in his ears as he stepped through the doorway, the well-worn key he'd been given years ago palmed in one gloved hand as he stepped through the doorway."Uncle?" The word came tentative and respectful in case the older man happened to be napping, a frequent occurrence this late in the afternoon. He paused in the entryway, the stillness of the house wrapping around him like a familiar, favorite old blanket. After gently closing the door behind himself, he touched the base of his staff to the ground to take a sweep of the house and see if anyone was even home. Before he even had a chance to register what the stave was telling him, he heard the heavy footsteps and creaking floorboards that indicated his uncle was approaching from down the hall."Ari!" Eckhart's voice was rich and warm, jovial as ever and his sudden embrace was welcome and without hesitation. Ari did not flinch away from his uncle's touch."Your father said you and Aine were away," he said as he pulled back, holding Ari out at arm's length to get a good look at him. "We didn't think you'd be back quite so soon.""I figured someone needed to check on the shop," Ari said automatically, though his words carried a weight that didn't quite match his casual response. "Is Aunt Judith here too?""No, she's out at the market," Eckhart explained. With an arm wrapped around his nephew's shoulders, he directed Ari towards the kitchen as the discussion continued. "You know how she is, never seems to have enough yarn, even though she's got a whole damn room full. I think by this point she could weave a cloak for every Imperial in Cyrodiil and still not be short on red."The laughter that followed, although brief, was genuine, and their idle conversation continued as Eckhart put on some tea. While the kettle boiled, they talked a lot about nothing in particular, simply enjoying the company of one another. It wasn't until they were each finally seated at the kitchen table, a mug of steaming mint tea in front of them that the conversation began to wind down and Eckhart considered his nephew seriously."I don't think you came here just for a cup of my tea," he finally expressed.Ari sighed, admitting abruptly: "I received a letter... Aine ran off, Uncle Eckhart. I said something I shouldn't have... mentioned that I thought maybe... there's something wrong with her, in the head. And she took off.""I see." The fact that there was no harsh judgment -- no judgment at all -- in those two simple words was part of the reason Ari loved his uncle so much. "Do you think this letter is from her or perhaps about her?" Ari wouldn't be able to see the change in his expression, the one of concern he now wore in regards to his niece."I don't know... maybe it's just a letter telling me off for what I said to her. Maybe she's just saying she's fine. Maybe it's something else. All I know is that I didn't want Dirk or father reading it first, just in case. Would you...?""Of course," Eckhart nodded, setting his mug of tea aside. He leaned forward across the table, extending a hand for the letter. "Let's have a look."Ari nodded and paused long enough to fish through the satchel at his hip to find the creased letter that he had brought with him from the shop. It was still sealed, the wax faintly cracked. He reached out, fumbling a little as he blindly placed it in his uncle's open hand. Eckhart leaned back and opened it, eyes gliding along the parchment as he read. The house was still and silent again, save for the occasional clinking of Eckhart's ring against the ceramic mug when he would pause his reading for a drink of tea."Well," Eckhart said slowly. "The good news is, it is about Aine." He looked past the paper towards his nephew."And the bad news?""It sounds like she's fine," Eckhart did his best to try and reassure Ari as he went on, but the air chilled slightly. "Physically, anyway. It does sound like she landed herself in quite a spot of trouble. She's run afoul of someone named Lerineaux. A Count."Ari's fingers curled at the edge of the table. His tea had been forgotten and was going cold. "Run afoul how?""All it says here is that she's conducted herself with a 'level of abhorrence intolerable for evolved society'."Ari remained sitting statue-still at the table for several moments, his fingers still grasping the side of the table. Slowly, he brought one hand up towards his face, massaging his temples. "We can't keep doing this," he said suddenly.Silence answered. It wasn't the heavy kind, but more like the calm before a storm. When Eckhart did speak, his voice was low, conspiratorially, and deadly serious... but soft and almost pleading at the same time."You know... you don't have to."Ari's hand dropped, his expression forming one of puzzlement. He had never expected to hear those words, even from his uncle. "What do you mean?"Eckhart sighed, sliding the letter to the side of the table for the time being. "We need to focus on Aine for the time being. Whatever trouble she's gotten herself into this time sounds serious. But once you've gotten her cleared...""Can you help us? Can you help us get out?" The words tumbled out of him before he could stop them. He thought about backtracking, panic rising in his chest, but when he opened his mouth, more pleading spilled forth instead: "It's killing her. She's just getting worse. I can't--" He managed to stop himself. With a shake of his head, he recollected himself before he went on. "She's not well. You know the things she hears. They encourage it. They tell her Hermaeus Mora speaks to her. They feed into her delusions."Again, Ari was met with silence. This time longer than the last. As it stretched on, Ari expected to be rebuffed by the only one who had ever really cared for him. Instead, Eckhart watched his nephew and if Ari had been able to see, he would have found his uncle's expression unreadable.When Eckhart spoke again, his tone was distant but not unkind: "Do you remember your cousin, Remi?"The question threw Ari off. He hadn't realized tension had been building in his body until this point and, slowly, he allowed it to ease from his shoulders."Not very well," he admitted. "I think I was only six or seven when he... passed.""You told me he would die."Ari froze, his breath catching in his throat. "I-- I don't remember that," his tone was immediately apologetic, as if this were somehow his fault. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to this and he shook his head, having no recollection of the incident. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I don't remember anything about that.""Well, you did. You said you saw it happen. I spoke to my brother about it at great length. He assured me that the strength and power of our devotion would protect my son, that of course I had nothing to worry about when it came to Remi's fate. And then Remi drowned. Just like you said he would."The words fell heavy, like stones into a river."Uncle Eckhart, I don't understand...""The Seekers of the Gilded Eye are dead, Ari. They just don't know it yet. What your father clings to is a corpse, dressed up in false prophecy. What was once a proud, powerful following of Hermaeus Mora is nothing but a ghost of its former glory, clinging to the dregs of a once great society. Aine was your father's last hope to resurrect it back to prodigiousness, but this cult can't even take care of its own. You and Aine deserve so much more. So did my son."Eckhart leaned across the table, a heavy hand moving to settle on Ari's shoulder for added reassurance. His voice dropped low, not soft, but certain."Neither of you are alone. You never will be. And if it's the last thing Judith and I do, we will get you both out."Ari's eyes were closed behind tight lids as he bowed his head for a moment. He had always been able to rely on his uncle, but to hear these words in particular, to know for sure that he had someone who was going to help him and Aine finally get out, it was overwhelming. He couldn't even begin to voice his relief, his thanks, and he didn't need to. Eckhart smiled faintly and stood, circling the table to embrace his nephew again, a steady hand on the back of his neck."You know you'll always have Judith and me to look out for you and your sister. Come, now. We should get you ready to go fetch Aine. And no more talk of this, there's always someone with an ear to the wall."If Ari's staff hadn't been out of reach, propped uselessly up against the side of the table, he might have noticed the skulking footsteps quickly departing the edge of the farmhouse.
No Way Out
The passing of Eckhart was abrupt and unexpected to Ari, who had visited the older man only a matter of days ago. Their last conversation had ended on a hopeful note, regardless of the fact that it had been filled with uneasiness and uncertainty regarding Aine's well-being. Upon returning home with his sister, Ari had made the trip to his uncle's farmhouse to find the two-story house a pit of smoldering ruins, still smoking from the fate that had befallen it in the short time he had been gone.He could still feel the heal radiating from the property, could still smell the scent of it hanging in the air. The smell was smokey and sharp, of singed hair and burned wood. The rain that had come and gone since the fire hadn't quite washed it away yet. It was the dead of night when he came upon the scene, the pulsing magic radiating from his staff relaying the scene to him in excruciating details that he never wanted: the charred bones of the house stood on the edge of the field like a discarded skeleton, like someone had dumped a body. The roof had caved in as a result of the fire, the rafters curled upward like arthritic fingers clawing at the sky. The siding of the house was peeled and blistered, revealing nails that jutted out in odd angles. The front door was entirely gone -- either blasted inward or torn entirely off. Inside, the floorboards sagged dangerously, making it impossible for Ari to venture forth and investigate the interior further himself without risking falling through to the cellar below. The staircase that led to what would have been the second floor (now gone) was a twisted mess of splintered wood, blackened and crumbling and leading nowhere. Next to it stood the stone chimney, the one defining feature of the house that stood solid and intact, rising above the rest of the house like some sort of monolith, a testament to its maker. He could have lifted his staff from the ground at any time to look away from the destruction, but he was searching for something, and it wasn't until a voice spoke up behind him that he even realized what it was he was looking for in the first place."They're not here," Armand said quietly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence like the sudden flash of a knife.Ari visibly flinched before he even realized he was reacting to the sound of his father's voice. His focus had been so intent on the scene in front of himself, trying to see if anything -- any body -- was left beneath the sagging beams and stench of smoke and soot that he hadn't even noted his father's unwelcome approach through the use of his staff. It wasn't often that anyone was able to sneak up on him.Ari didn't bother turning to face the other man. He stood rigid, his grip tightening on his staff, breath caught in his chest and his heart quickening. It was a muscle memory response, a primal fight-or-flight reaction towards his father that he had picked up as a child. Behind him, soft footsteps crunched over grit and grass and cinder. Armand's boots stopped beside him.When Ari made no remark, his father continued, almost conversationally: "They took the bodies away this afternoon." He sounded like he was commenting on the damn weather, not the death of his own brother.Ari remained facing forward, his grip still tight on his staff. He took a few slow, even breaths. He would not let his father see him break down in front of this ruined house. Silence lapsed between them for several moments until he trusted himself enough to speak without letting his voice crack. He cleared his throat before he finally spoke, managing just above a whisper: "What happened?" His voice came out flat, brittle. In spite of his best attempt, he sounded afraid of the answer."Robbery." It was a single word, and it landed like a stone in Ari's gut. He knew the way his father said things -- sharp and tidy, like the way one would lay out a set of fine silverware in a row. That word, robbery, it was far too neat and clean. There was a hidden meaning curled under there, like how a snake coils under a rock, something hidden that Ari knew he would find if he bothered to just look. It was in the way he said it, so matter-of-fact, and the worst part of it was, Ari knew that his father wanted him to know it."Robbery," Ari repeated the word, but it sounded different when he said it. It tasted different too, like blood. Like the ash that lined the house where his uncle once lived. His throat thickened around it. He swallowed hard.Armand remained at his son's side, unmoving. He kept staring at the carcass of the house like it was a problem he had already solved."Someone must have thought your uncle had something he shouldn't have," he said as calmly as a butcher discreetly thumbing the scale. His words had layers to them, though, and Ari could feel them sliding over him. Armand wanted to ensure he knew that this was his fault. Ari's pulse beat behind his eyes, fast and hot. His head was swimming.We can’t keep doing this, Ari had said.
You know... you don’t have to, Eckhart had promised.And now what was left of Eckhart had been hauled off, charred and melted, to be entombed somewhere without fanfare in a family plot."Who did it?" Ari asked, his voice hollow. He already knew, but the words came anyway, like a reflex. The game was already being played, he might as well do his part. It was expected of him, like a sharp gasp following a swift punch.Armand tilted his head, thoughtful, like this question in particular amused him."We don't know, son," he said, the lie as smooth as oiled leather. "We may never know. But it's times like these that we need to stick together, don't you think?" He turned then, slowly, and placed a heavy hand on Ari's shoulder. The pressure of it wasn't much, but the weight of it was almost unbearable. The pressure of it brought on memories -- nights locked in the sanctum, Aine crying at him from the other side of a closet door, fervent screaming of and to Hermaeus Mora with the certainty of a fanatic. "As a family," he finished, poignant. Ari was saved his empty, elegant, predatory smile by the grace of his blindness.Although the weather wasn't particularly cold, Ari felt a chill. He was nauseated and a shiver rippled through him. He wanted to shove Armand's hand away from him, scream at him, tell him to fuck off and never touch him again. He did no such thing. He only stood there, still as a statue, letting the moment pass without so much as a shake of his head."Of course, Father," he agreed meekly. And then, just as quietly, he added: "I should go check on Aine."Armand gave a small, satisfied nod at his son's response. "You do that." He clapped Ari on the shoulder a final time, pleased, and just like that, the weight was gone -- though the impression of it remained. That pressure would linger for a long while yet.Ari turned and walked away quickly, the smoke still rising behind him.
Art was done by the highly talented
Vael.
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discord: raunh
eso handle: @raunh
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Hey there, you can call me Raunh. I'm a 21+ RPer who has been RPing for several years, starting with forum-based RP and gradually moving towards MMOs. I can write from multi-paragraph styled posts to rapid-fire sentences depending on what the situation calls for and I am generally a pretty quick typer.
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Things I'm interested in for RP:
Themes of action and adventure, mystery and investigation, navigating politics, intrigue, horror, and the occasional slice-of-life.
Long-term RP with a focus not only on storytelling and plot but on character development and relationships.
IC conflict. I enjoy conflict between characters just as much as I love it when they get along swimmingly. As long as there is no OOC drama attached and no bleeding IC/OOC interactions, I am perfectly fine with characters who butt heads or form rivalries.
Meeting new people/characters. I enjoy branching out and RPing with new folks, so I'm always open to DMs. :)
Things I'm not interested in for RP:
ERP. Romance or relationships developing in that direction is fine, but I do fade-to-black.
Underaged characters. This includes the ancient vampire/elf/daedra/whatever that looks/acts like a child.
Blatant lore-breaking characters/stories. There are always grey areas with TES lore, but I prefer to try and adhere to it as much as possible.
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My DMs are always open for people looking to RP. While I prefer in-game RP, Discord RP is perfectly fine too! Feel free to contact me on Discord if you'd like to work on setting something up.