Arthfael


 * "May Zamorak guide you to purpose and freedom..."

- Arthfael

Arthfael Kylaev Olivriar (Pronounced ARTH-file) is an Ardougnian young man, whom is currently under the beliefs of Zamorakianism. Arthfael has resurfaced, alive. He currently returns to take up the title and governance of Seers' Village or Paixgrove - ruling it as its Count.

He is played by Eziak.

Body Description
Arthfael is a man built of a slender, wily figure. He was moderately muscular, much like the average human. A man of about six feet, his skin's tone slightly tanned by the Sun's constant array upon him. He had hazel grey eyes, and short, military-cut hair. He had a prominent chin, and a heart-shaped face and jaw.

Armored
Arthfael wore complex, split-coat robings, to which held a view different shades of blue with colors such as white and gold. He wore an attached hood over his head, alongside his heirloom, a Zamorakian symbol. He held a shortsword at his waist, firmly secured within a leather-made scabbard. Beneath his robes was a vest and accompanying chaps of black dragonhide, assisting in his resistance to offensive magi. Attached firmly to his right forearm is a custom-made vambrace, with a brace, to which held several magically-enchanted orbs within it, likely powering the focused wand attached to it, thus creating the magibrace.At his side were a few pouches full of runes and coin, alongside other miscellanious tools. His cape was short, yet flowed in the wind, split up in individual strips at the end.

Regular Garment
Arthfael wore a vest-coat of black, gold and white over a long-sleeved white shirt. Over his abdomen was a tired-on belt of some type of leather. He wore his flowing cloak of white, to which has long, flowing individual strips escaping from its end. He wore rather simple leggings, with black boots that are buckled on. At his side was the steel-made shortsword.

Personality
Arthfael is a sarcastic, taunting man of a harsh temper; he tends to let his Zamorakian side take over at times, though struggles with whom he really is, as he is incredibly kind towards some people and has turned somewhat anti-villain. This struggle as caused a mental battle of his chaotic and kind sides.

Birth
Born in the eastern residential Ardougne, a baby was quickly shifted into his mother’s arms, where she would nurture the now-faintly crying child. The small boy’s mother had begun to smile at the young boy, before a figure rushed through the door. Each time this figure walked, metal clanked upon his person, yet, the figure was not yet clear as to whom they were, under the dimming shadows of the candlelight.

“Is it a boy or a girl, Leridia?” The young mother with long, dark brunette hair smiled up at the figure, which had now evaded the shadows, blatantly displaying a large, male guardsman. He had been aging, and had a greying beard, his age contributing to his height which was just about five feet, eleven inches.

“Boy! We had a boy, Tyrfael.” Leridia exclaimed loudly in excitement, the best she could, due to her recent birthing of the boy. Tyrfael’s lips spread into a grin, as he clambered over in his chainmail armor. Leridia unquestionably moved to offer the little boy in her arms to his father. Tyrfael’s hands slowly lurched forwards, as he had moved to lift the boy. The grimy-faced Tyrfael grinned down at his baby boy and spoke proudly.

“His name shall be Arthfael, my legacy and son.” Arthfael’s mother nodded once, smiling up at her husband and little Arthfael…

Early Childhood
Eight years old; I had been traveling to school when the nuisance of a ‘bully’, Oliver, a bigger boy of about the age of twelve arrived to halt me in the streets.

“Where are you goin’, ye’ wuss?” Oliver poked at me teasingly with verbal threats. I moved to back up, yet his minion, Jacob, came in from behind me, twirling a small dagger in his hands dangerously. Jacobs was thirteen at the time, displaying a violent, killer side of him.

“School - somewhere you should go.” Oliver growled at me, and moved forwards to bring a fist down to my face. Suddenly, my face had begun to hurt and I dazed and knocked to the floor. I viciously growled up Oliver and took ahold of a sharp rock. I began crawling away, evading Oliver, as I stood up; Jacob was closing in, his dagger ready to strike me. Then I turned, and threw the sharp rock at the incoming Jacob, to which produced a loud clunk as the rock slammed into his skull viciously, and uselessly threw Jacob’s body to the ground. It had seemed he became lifeless, and the whole world around me slowed. I had just killed my very first man, hadn’t I? I wouldn’t have known as I began to evade the scene, as Oliver went to his comrade’s aid helplessly.

I got home, breathing raggedly, blood streaming down from my nose from Oliver’s punch. My mother was home, and she quickly came to my aid with eyes of motherly concern.

“Is Oliver bullying you, again?” She spoke to me with concern; a look of complete worry was on her expression. I couldn’t help but nod, but, as she began to clean the blood my father rushed in, breathing raggedly himself. She stood up looking towards Tyrfael in a frantic look.

“We need to get out’ta here. They know who I am, Leridia. I also hear Jacob, Daric’s son, was killed in the streets!” I looked up to my father, feeling my face go pale as he continued. “They’re blaming Arthfael for it.” No sooner did Leridia and Tyrfael pack up and take me away from Ardougne, though, it wouldn’t be forever I would stay away from the city.

Collapse
Years later, I was fifteen years of age; seven years, we lived out in the woods with only a cabin. I had gotten use to the frigid weather, though, over time. My mother was showing signs of age, now, and had been doing housework while my father was in his study, alone. My parents had always told me we were evading an unlawful order of extremist Saradominists for years; if found, they would execute the two of them. I was molded to fear this Order. On this day, I was assisting my mother in housecleaning, before knocks pounded the door. My mother and I froze, as my mother crept towards the door. Suddenly the wimpy wooden door is slammed and off it came from its hinges, slamming into my mother and causing her to fall back. At the doorway, two men stood - seventeen year old Oliver Pieros and his father, Kairell Pieros. With them, their tall structures and jet black hair, Kairell carrying a black moustache. Kairell lowered his steel sword to my mother’s face threateningly.

“Where is Tyrfael, unholy wench?” I growled raising myself from my chair, and bringing up my father’s large, composite re-curve crossbow. Loaded into it, a fresh bolt - the aim was dead-set upon the chest of Kairell before it was fired, sending the bolt into the plating of his abdomen’s armor. He was pushed into the wall, where he grunted, Oliver’s expression turning to surprise as I lowered my father’s crossbow.

“Son – go find Tyrfael, restrain him, immediately! I shall deal with his wench of a wife and their abomination.” He commanded Oliver which caused him to move inside with his spear, his movement towards my father’s study. Kairell moved forwards and with ease, he brought the sword down, jabbing his sword deep into the throat of my mother. Falling limp, he whisked it from her lifeless body, and inched towards me. I looked upon him with pure hatred, my hand curled around the crossbow’s bayonet and yanked it out of its place.

“Drop the crossbow, boy. You have no idea what you are messing with.” He commanded me roughly, as he inched towards me. I snarled at him as Oliver broke into my father’s study, raising a conflict between Oliver and my father.

“You’re going to have to pry it from my cold, dead hands!” I exclaimed loudly, and he sneered advancing swiftly with his cutlass sword in hand, as I too lunged my blade towards him.

" Very well, then! " As he shouted it, a commotion came from across the parlour. My father had pushed Oliver out. Suddenly, my lunge pushed through something. Kairell's body froze up as the bayonet sunk into his abdomen, a long, slender steel blade. Finally, he fell limp, and I pulled it from him and backed away from my kill, as Kairell feel to the floor, lifelessly.

" NO! Father! " Oliver's helpless gaze fell upon his father, as he was pushed out of the doorway by my father. Dumbfounded by my killing, Oliver rose his glare towards me. Screeching a war cry I moved to wrap my hands  around his father's sword, yet, he was stopped as my father took ahold of the spear and tried to stop him. Angrily, he swung his spear back, slamming a sharp end into his right shoulder, his left hand raising his scimitar, my father moaned as he went through his shoulder, slashing a long, ragged cut through the jaw of Oliver, whom screeched in pain.

Dropping his spear, he took ahold of something at his side, yet, it was too late for me to stop him as he yanked out a blackened, slender dagger and moved to shove it repeatedly into my father's chest. Blood spurted as the ferocious assaults continued unhendered. I screeched out in deppression and hopelessness.

" NO! STOP! " He stopped, but not for me, pulling out his dagger for the last time before fleeing towards the city. My father slid down the wall, into a defeated sitting position, his hand releasing the scimitar. The agonizing pain tore at my heart as I helplessly looked around at the bloodied scene around me. I stepped towards my mother's corpse, taking her body into my arms I moved outside. Finally, I came in and looked over my father, kneeling at his side. No longer did he breathe, and a chill overcame his now-corpse. After a few moments I took his body and moved outside, where I would bury them in make-shift graves. In pain and crumbling under the pressure of my parents' deaths, I ran, towards the city of Ardougne...

Zamorakian Brotherhood
Days after, I ran the streets, seemingly alone. Walking into the market, I took breaths as I walked around; the moment was surreal to me. Then, I was grabbed by the arm suddenly and pulled into an alley. Whomever my captor was pinned me to a wall and allowed me a look at him.

" Hey, kid. " My captor looked young, likely only a few years older than me. What caught my attention most was the symbol of Zamorak, concealed, yet in his positon, had been revealed, partially falling out of his coat. He put his dagger to my chest, snarling lowly.

" Brave of you to come back, kid. " He withdrew his dagger, setting it into his coat. With a sneering smirk, my captor continued. " You'd be come with me, if you want to live - if the Saradominists find you, they'll cleave you in half. " So, I followed him. I was still trembling, frightened and awed by my hunger for blood only days ago, upon the murderer of my mother. The smirking captor moved to beckon me, as he lowered his brown hood, revealing his paled skin and thick, wily blonde hair, sprawled out like a mop on his head.

" Name's Haylos. You're ... Arthfael, aren'tcha'? " He smirked again, and I managed to smile slightly and nodded. Though, his eyes narrowed, as he led me deeper into the slums of Ardougne, and continued in his hick and Kandar accent. " Quiet one, aren'tcha'? "  It was not concern but curiousity in his eyes, to which eventually brought me to speak.

" I killed a man, Haylos. " I spoke coldly, almostly heartlessly, my voice was proper and educated yet still laced with the smooth, Kandar accent. Haylos just grinned at me, as if this was no big deal. We continued into a doorway, where we came across a small room, with a lengthy dining table, though the crastfmanship was crude and the wooden material worn from use and extreme abuse. Sitting at the table, five people were placed, though, they eased back, carelessly in their worn chairs. As Haylos and I entered they all, as if mechanical looked to the door. Four of them were male, whilst one was female. I found it odd, a female within a gang. I found curiousity.

" This kid's Arthfael. Found 'im wanderin' the streets, alone. "  They all nod, their cold, lifeless eyes boring onto me, as if trying to reach into me and tear my soul out. He gestured to each one of them going clockwise, speaking each of their names. " Kael, " A brutish, balded man of around twenty. He looked dangerous, as if he had just escaped prison, and held a few tattoos to increase his intimidation. " Lester, " a man whom looked to be close to the same age as Haylos, yet, Lester held a few scars throughout his visage. " Leilah, " He gestured towards the female, whom nodded once towards me. She looked like a punk of a woman, young and beautiful, yet incredibly dangerous with long, black hair. " Vale, " he gestured towards a male at their right side, him managing a short wave. He looked like ex-military, with a short, buzzcut hairstyle of brunette hair. He brandished large, frightening muscular biceps. " And Joseph. " He pointed to the last young man as he spoke his name. Joseph seemed to give a punk-like presence, with black make-up and hair. I, at first, found him odd.

" Not to be a bit of a buzzkill here, Boss, but ... Ain't he a bit small? " Kael spoke, prodding his figner through the air towards the wily boy I was. Haylos chuckled slightly, moving to pat my shoulders roughly.

" Well, if none of you are willing to mentor Arthfael, I guess I will. " He spoke with a shrug of his shoulders, moving to usher me aside. The others glanced to each other for a moment, yet, were speechless as I was led into a cellar. Down the staircase, a huge network of caverns and crevices lay...

... Several months later, I was trained, moulded into a deadly image. Recently, I had obtained Acolyte rank, after several months of abuse and rough training from my superiors. I was trained to play dirty, to cheat, to kill. In our Brotherhood, there was no mercy, only agony and suffering. No longer did I hold remorse, I wanted to prove myself, my blood boiled. All I wished was to avenge my parents. I was an avenger, the avenger. But, maybe I was not as tough as I had depicted myself previously? No, there was still a remnant of kindness. Whether that was a haunting reminder or a gift - the answer never came to me. I was clouded, volatile, dangerous, yet this may of been a curtain, covering what I truly was...

One night, I had went to Haylos's office - a rundown room in the crevice network. There, he stood yet, he was with one of our greatest Knight's woman - they were locking lips, and it was apparent both were drunk. The Knight, Olivier stepped into the room at that moment. With a look of alarm, he ran forwards, yanking Haylos off of his mistress. Haylos angrily turned, thrusting a punch at the Knight's face. A crack and he fell back into the stone wall, feeling his face. His nose bled profusely, He angrily pulled a dagger from his thigh, moving to lunge it at the advancing Haylos. Haylos countered again, thrusting the dagger quickly into his chest with malicious and aggressive wrath. Numerous times, and I sat stood, watching him brutally slaughter the Knight. He looked to me, then to the drunken, wimpering mistress.

" Kid - be prepared. Yurr' takin' Olivier's place as Knight ... " I looked at him in awe, then excitement. Moving out the door with a smile...

... The early hours of the morning, several days later. I was already knighted. Haylos woke us, some of us. Some Acolytes, a few Knights and two other Masters. We were led out and into the streets. Quickly converging onto the Marketplace. There they were, the Order of Preservation. Under Oliver they had fallen to the streets, lurking to find Zamorakians they could execute. They found a whole group of them. Insults progressed into a fight, yet, as some of us tried to pull a Knight, Jakkob, away from his opponent, Haylos stepped forwards, stabbing a Saradominist to death, violently. Before my eyes, my comrades ran into conflict - some fell, others felled their enemies. Needless bloodshed commenced, yet. my hate for Saradominists was at its prime. Slash, hack. Men fell. One came at me, throwing his right hand at me. Instantly, I ducked moved away and thrusted my dagger into his side, several times. I couldn't see from the blood spewing out at my face, I couldn't feel - I felt only the rage boiling at my blood. Suddenly, a pain shot through my shoulder. Through my right shoulder, an arrow protuded and I cried out in pain. Squadrons of market guardsmen converged onto our gangs' battle. Some of us fell to the brutal maces of the guards. The fight went on, and then, I was approached by the killer of my father, the tormentor of my soul, Oliver. I hissed and went forwards, as he moved to grasp the arrow in my shoulder by the shaft and yank it out. I reached forwards moving to yank his dagger from its scabbard - the one that slew my father - and stab it viciously, several times into his chest. Within moments, the young man had fallen. The Saradominists cowered away, into the west, most if not all caught or killed by the awaiting guardsmen.

Haylos wasn't done. Armed with his dagger, a woman lay on the floor, injured, crying out in pain and left to crawl. I was crouched over a guardsman, holding mywould with my right hand. Haylos pounded towards the downed woman, I knew his intentions, and without a thought of my consequence, I took ahold of a mace's grip with my left hand and stood up, violently thrusting the spiny head of the mace straight into the face of the man. With an unnatural crack, Haylos slumped to the floor, lifelessly. From afar my once-comrades peered at me, speechless, yet, I could not fight or run. The guardsmen had surrounded me, forcing me to surrender...

Family

 * Sarah Olivriar - Daughter - Fifteen
 * Taylor Olivriar - Daughter - Seven
 * Sophia Duphrane - Lover - ???
 * Velos Olivriar - Cousin - Late twenties

Friends

 * Nolfavrell Reliqua - Friend - ???

Trivia

 * Arthfael became Zamorakian solely based on his background and his father's allegiance to the God.
 * Arthfael has slewn a black dragon, alongside other fighters. As loot, he obtained its head and some of its hide, for armor.
 * He has a trained fighting dog, a male dalmation named Kael.