STROM, ARROW DYONARRA

arrow dyonarra strom.

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Arrow was born to a relatively normal family. They were not thieves themselves, but they often housed the criminals in exchange for a cut of their money. Apart from that, they went on with their lives, not exactly poor or wealthy in relation to other Outlanders. They didn't scrape by, yet they also didn't have beaucoup money to spend on just anything.

Arrow was an only child, though an accident. She came in contact with many of their house guests and learned all of her beguiling ways from them. She was often in the limelight, always quite the joy to be around, even when she was younger. The felons, normally light-hearted, would entertain Arrow with their cunning tricks and shiny loot. Her parents kept a close eye on her, however, as thieves were, well... sneaky. She picked up on things quickly, even surpassing other thieves at a young age. Her tiny hands often got her in trouble, but it was usually brushed off and any stolen goods returned.

However, the wrong sort of convict happened to stay with Arrow and her parents one night. Arrow was almost five then, and she was feeling up to her tricks. She knew many of the guests now, as they were repeat inhabitants, but this man was new. Arrow loved meeting new people.

So, one night, she walked into the guest room, where him and a few other thieves slept (even lady thieves). There were two or three crouching in a corner, gambling or something of the sort. On the other side of the room, with a half-wall separating the players from the snoozers, was the man she had seen walk in earlier. He was gruff. But so were many of the others.

As Arrow approached him, a faint glimmer caught her eye. Beside his bed, a sack had fallen open, exposing a huge, glinting rock that she had never seen. This man was obviously no petty thief. He was the real deal. However, Arrow didn't know the difference, and she was also curious about this rock. With her eyes resting doggedly on the man, she reached her nimble fingers into the sack and pulled out the gem. She made no hesitation to dart out of the room as hastily as possible with the gem clutched between her two hands.

Once she had retreated to her bedroom, she held the rock up to her eyes and examined it closely. Round and round it went in her hands. Arrow found the rock particularly useless save for its vivid crimson richness. Its hue was blood red and so deeply so that it blackened any light that tried to pass through it. Though it meant nothing to her other than another treasure she had stymied, she still tucked it under her mattress and laid down to sleep.

Her sweet dreams were pierced by screams, blood-curdling screams. Her heart raced as she bounded from her bed downstairs. Eyes widened in terror. Her mouth fell open. There were lifeless corpses in the den, all stricken limp by the hands of the same felon that she had stolen from. Gore lined the walls, as well as the floors. A few bloody hand prints smeared on the cold stone ground, obviously belonging to those who struggled to flee their demise. Pools of red - the same color of the gem she stole - encircled the bodies, creating a sort of crimson halo. They had all been bled dry in a very timely manner.

Amidst the flock of bodies, the criminal stood dead center. In his hands was the helpless corpse of her mother. Arrow had arrived just before he had slit her neck, which was still spouting blood like a clogged fountain. The life literally trickled down her mother's neck and ran underneath her clothes, staining them as it passed through.

Arrow was almost stricken with rigamortis herself, as she was too petrified to move or speak. She simply stood, her arms stick-straight at her side with mouth wide open. Before she could even get a chance to think, the criminal looked her way and raised his eyebrows, though in a cynical fashion. He didn't say a word to her. He simply breezed by her and trespassed into her room. He turned over everything in her room until he finally found his precious rock. All the while, Arrow remained stiff, still staring at her maimed parents, flung atop the other bodies carelessly.

The man returned, gem in hand, smiling from ear to ear. As he passed Arrow again, he said, without even the slightest hint in his tone that he had just murdered a slew of people, "Ah, here's what I was looking for." He exited without another word or glance toward Arrow. It wasn't until he left that Arrow's brain finally began functioning.

Immediately tears sprang from her eyes, burning, passionate tears that children were not even supposed to know. They paved glossy, sad trails across her cheeks until they met their own demise by dripping from her chin onto the lifeless floor. Like the water droplets, Arrow fell too. She collapsed to her knees, still in utter shock and disbelief. Placing her hands on the cold tile, she crawled to her parents' corpses. In doing so, she had to clamber over the other bodies, bloodying her hands and knees. When she reached her parents, she took her mother's hand and her father's and intertwined their fingers as best she could. She seated herself between the two of them and placed their hands in her lap. She wriggled her tiny fingers in the holes of their own. With her free hand, she shook her mother lightly. She did the same with her father. The only movement she received in return was the falling of her father's blank face to the side. Arrow continued to sit between them until she eventually fell asleep.

For a few days, Arrow did not leave the house. She remained with the rotting corpses until the odor became too unbearable, as well her hunger and thirst. Having learned a particular set of skills early in life, Arrow was able to make a living by stealing. Due to the trauma she had faced, she cared very little for the consequences of her actions. When she was scolded, her visage was a stoic slate. She was a conundrum to any who met her because of her lack of emotion.

As Arrow aged, though, she came to realize that people were part of her every day life and to get what she wanted, she had to seem like she had feeling. Otherwise, she couldn't con people into giving her money. That feigned emotion was often the product of biting cynicism and realism that had followed her like a shadow since she was five. And that's how the Arrow today was molded.

[/style][style= width: 188px; height: 100px; background-color: #D1D1D1; font-family: arial; text-align: justify; font-size: 09px; color: #656565; border-top: #D1D1D1 2px solid; border-bottom: #D1D1D1 2px solid; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 3px; overflow: auto;]arrow is a sneaky, conniving girl, which is probably why she is the guild master of a well-known thieves' guild. it is difficult to upset arrow or get her to show any emotion, really, other than cynicism. she masks her feelings rather well, probably a good trait to have as a thief. some call her a sociopath. some call her a genius. either way, she can systematically lie and cheat and steal without even a shred of remorse. she isn't heartless, though, as she cares very deeply for her guild members. those are perhaps the only people she cares for, though. she has a problem showing that she does care, however, and so, many people find her to be cold and strict.

female.

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