Idril "The Butler" Thalin

BaconAvengerII

Butler and Attendant for The Lindemann Estate
The Butler

"I am certainly not heartless.
It just refuses to beat for those it does not care for."

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Idril - Age 60

[THEME OF IDRIL]

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NAME
Idril Xavier Thalin III


AGE
150+


RACE
High Elf


HEIGHT
6'3" (190cm)


FEATURES
Silver-white hair and cold, crystalline blue eyes.
Ear-length hair that is well-kept and styled in a way that partially hides the burn scar on the right side of his face. The tip of his right ear is missing.
The most striking of his features are his bright, cold, crystalline blue eyes and lack of facial expression.
His tone of voice fits this as well, often sounding detached even in the most intense situations.
Clean in hygiene, stance, and cut, at close ranges the smell of orange and clove can be detected.

A scar is visible over the bridge of his nose as if having been broken, as well as various smaller scars along the left side of his face.
There is a scar from a bad split on the left side of his lower-lip.
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[VOICE]
Pagan Min (Troy Baker) - Far Cry 4
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ATTIRE
Often seen dressed in fine clothing of muted shades and colors, his hands are mostly, if not always, covered by black leather gloves.
Everything from his neck to his feet is covered while he's in public.


PSYCHE
Could be seen as logical and rigid, the skills and knowledge he exhibits in public allude to some sort of formal training or military service.
The Butler appears to be in constant thought, studying or noting details he believes often go unnoticed.
-Haphephobia-
People with haphephobia often experience physical symptoms of intense distress when they are touched.
The Butler responds, sometimes violently, to physical contact.


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Thalin's Waltz

-Movement One-
"You Say"
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[Music]
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Laying atop the roof of a storage shed with his spine lining up with that of the building, The Butler let his arms and legs dangle as they may on either side of the structure.
The sky was dark, and the moon high above, those icy blue eyes of his holding the moonlight captive before his attention is brought to the nearby stars.
Something shifted in his stomach. Uncomfortable. The same queasy feeling one would get from drinking too much water.

"You're a bloody fool, Thalin..." he whispers to himself, left hand reaching up to rest on his stomach in hopes it would relax.
With a sigh, his eyes would move about the overhead star clusters and local constellations.

The same stars often used by sailors to aid with navigation were now the focus of his attention. Furrowing his eyebrows, he felt himself getting warm, starting at the neck, and running into his cheeks.

Right index finger reaching skyward, he'd begin to trace imaginary lines between the visibly small motes of light. As he did, he'd mouth their names, mentally recalling when he'd learned them himself.

A stream of warmth ran down the outer edge of his right eye, blinking a few times curiously, he'd reach his gloved right hand over to make sure he hadn't been stung or cut by something strange. Retracting his hand, he'd rub his fingers together and sigh.

"Yea... I thought so..." speaking to himself with a sigh, not bothering to fight against the silent tears running down either side of his head and into his short hair. All he'd do is lay there for a while looking skyward.

"Ci'el...?" his voice cracks, pursing his lips to avoid screaming. "What... what do I do, now?" he asked the endless uncaring void of darkness above him. "I have tried to follow the rules, Ci'el. I've tried. I can't do it anymore..." before going silent.

"ANSWER ME!" shouted only moments later, voice echoing from the nearby trees "...please..." gritting his teeth. "Just tell me that it's okay. Give me a sign. Something..."

That night?
The darkness had no answers for the impure.
Somewhere, he knew that. He knew he was asking in vain.
There would be no answer.
There would be no sign.
There would be nothing...

After long, the moon would pass in blissful silence, the night creatures of the underbrush heard beneath leaf and twig. Minutes turned into hours, the velvet backdrop of the stars becoming brighter as the moonlight faded.

Sighing, he'd reach his right hand up, open, reaching feebly for one of the distant solar bodies, closing his hand slowly with a deep sigh...

"Lady Isolde should be awake soon." sitting up and leaning his head to either side. "Tea time." moving his left leg over the roof's apex to join his right.

"Breathe, Thalin..." trying to calm himself down. "This too shall pass."

The Butler slid himself down the roof on a segment of fabric he'd placed for just this purpose. There was no sense in dirtying a perfectly good suit.

"Every storm passes..." closing his eyes slowly, eyelids darkened in color from a long period without sleep. With yet another deep breath, he'd correct his posture, fold his gloved hands neatly behind his back, and make his way to The Estate.

There was work to do...
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Thalin's Waltz

-Movement Two-
"Virus"

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[MUSIC]
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The sound of hooves clopping on stone, then dirt and gravel, and back to stone. Rapid. Hurried. Rushed.

Fleeing?
Engaging?

Yes…

The Butler lay forward on Tegol, his loyal black steed, left hand on the horn, right on the reins held close to his chest. The distinct ‘woosh’ of passing trees heard, faint echo of clapping shoes audible just beneath the sound, bouncing from the trees they passed. The blue shoulder cloak he wore fluttered back over his right side, a sound akin to that of a flag in the wind.

Tegol was a gift from Idril’s late husband. A man he’s named as one of his few friends. This horse was the very last reminder he had of the man that saved him from himself. Saved him from his family… and the entire reason his family is nothing but a memory. Dust.

Idril’s teeth were clenched, a deep, seething hatred in his eyes as they followed the path he was taking his mount down.
The beams of light from the setting sun breaking through the trees to the west, glimmering across the steel strapped to the left side of his saddle.

Tools, weapons, and equipment.
A light crossbow, a pair of handschythes, a handaxe.
Attached to his left hip, where he sat, was a well-crafted rapier with aesthetics that reassembled a bird.

Loss. Failure. Regret.
The thoughts passing through his unchanging eyes.
Those he’d trusted had walked away.
Those that trusted him had just asked him to do the same…
…leave…

HELP! a shrill shriek was heard in the distance.

The Butler was instantaneously removed from his internal hatred, blinking and searching as he continue to move at high speed. Roughly a quarter of a mile ahead of him on he now barely beaten side road was a woman kneeling near a collapsed horse, and a simple wooden hunting cart strung up behind where it lay.

“Blast…” Idril curses, sitting up and slowing Tegol’s sprint to a gallop, getting within earshot. “Ma’am? Is everything quite alright?” he asks in his usual detached tone, coming to a stop.

“My horse!” the middle-aged human woman shouts. “She… she collapsed, and I can’t get the cart off.” she sighs, eyeing him cautiously. Strangers on the road could be anything, and despite Idril’s attire, he could very well have been a thief or killer. Vampire. Some crazy blood cultist.

Idril patted Tegol’s neck with his left hand, signaling him to remain where he was. The rapier on his left hip hung loosely by the hoop sheath on the left side of his belt, though his gloved hands would fold neatly at the small of his back.
As he approached the kneeling woman and the cart, he’d make note of a few details.

One; The cart was empty.
Two; The horse looked healthy. All save for being killed by a single puncture wound to its right eye.
Three; The woman was dressed in fine clothing. Very fine.
Four; The carriage and the horse both looked… common. The carriage was nearly falling apart, and the horse had no decorative bridals.

Something was off…

“I’m terribly sorry for your misfortune.” Idril starts, offering a polite bow of his head to her. “I am Idril Thalin, on leave from my position as Butler for… well… that doesn’t matter, now I guess.” shaking his head.

“Thank the Divine. I thought I was going to be stranded out here.” the woman stands, voice shaking as she approached Idril, hands reaching up to her face as she did so. She looked distressed.

Idril took a single step backward to feel something metal, rectangular, and slightly pointy, pressed against his back.

“Woah, there, slick…” a male voice is heard from behind The Butler.

The woman’s hands dropped from her face, grinning. “Wow, you’re a sucker.” she laughs, reaching behind her back and retrieving a dagger with her right hand.

“Perhaps…” Idril says, eyes closing half-way.
Great, this is just what he needed. What a wonderful topper to an already GLORIOUS week.

“Idril, right?” the male voice behind him asks. “Hands up.”

Nodding, The Butler removed his hands from behind his back, raising them to either side of his head, open.
The woman stopped short of Idril. Barely close enough to run him through if she’d wanted.

“You two couldn’t have done this tomorrow?” Idril asks, his voice lowering, sounding… angry.

“Gotta’ eat, slick. Gotta’ keep my lady lookin’ good. Whatchu’ think, Idril? You think I can buy her anything nice with what’s in your pockets?” the male asks, reaching forward with the hand that wasn’t on the trigger, starting to remove pouches from his belt, and coin from his pockets.

“The item will be far nicer than the person wearing it, or the person buying it.” he says, turning his head slightly and trying to look over his right shoulder, only to be shoved by the man with the crossbow.

“What the hell did you say?” the woman asks, getting closer to Idril.

With that… Idril smirked, the woman’s eyes widening.

The Butler kneeled suddenly, left hand snapping down to the rapier on his hip to angle the tip backward, and up, shoving the tip up into the bowmans sternum as an audible ‘herk’ is heard from him.

“NO!” the woman screams, rushing forward as Idril stood up.
She’d meet him in the stomach with the dagger, Idril not bothering to stop her.

Gritting his teeth and growling as her dagger made short work of his suit and tissue, he’d take a note from a Tiefling, and head-butt her. A sickening ‘crack’ was heard, surely breaking her nose.
The woman groaned and reached both hands up to her face in reaction, stumbling backward. The dagger was still left in Indril’s stomach. For the moment, he’d leave it in. He didn’t want to risk a bleed out.

**THUMP**

The bowman wasn’t dead, firing and hitting Idril in his right shoulder blade. The Butler let out a short scream as he stepped forward. Drawing the rapier with his left hand, he’d turn around to face the one that just shot him.

“You <explicit> people. Take. Take. Take!” Idril shouts as he neared the bowman.

The bowman struggled to reload with his left hand, right pressed over the wound in his solar-plexus.
Idril’s response was to kick the man in the jewels, making the bowman let out a short squeak before dropping to his knees. The Butler pulled the rapier back with his left hand, driving it forward, into the man’s right eye.

If they were going to kill a horse this way, it was only fair.

The man sputtered as the tip of the rapier made its way out of the back of his skull, through his brain and optical cavity. Limp, twitchy hands, trying to reach for the buried blade, only to slump backward, dead, before ever succeeding.

“NO! WILKS!” the woman screams, running up behind Idril and jumping on his back, arms wrapping around his neck in an attempt to choke him out, dangling off of the six-foot Elf’s back.

Idril dropped the rapier, reaching his left hand over to the right sleeve of his overcoat. From it came a wooden dowel wrapped in leather. Strung to it was a horsehair harp string. The other side of the line had an identical dowel. A makeshift garrote wire.

Reaching up over his head, he’d loop the line around the woman’s neck and throw her weight up over himself, and forward, causing her to land on her back in the dirt in front of him, next to the dead man.
Coughing once, the air in the woman’s lungs was released by force.

The cold gaze of The Butler looking down on her would be the last thing she saw. That, and the glint of the steel rapier he’d used to open her neck.

Crouching and looking at her upside-down, Idril would hold her gaze as her hands gripped at her neck, trying to stop the flow of the bleeding to no success.

“You picked a bad day…” Idril says down to the dying woman. “There is good news, though. You don’t have to wonder where your God is. You’re about to meet them.” he stands, the arrow still in his shoulder, knife still stuck in his stomach.

Both of The Butler’s own wounds were bleeding pretty badly, but his cold demeanor gave the impression that he hadn’t noticed.

He’d wait until she was dead before dragging their bodies over to, and putting them in, the cart.
Cutting the horse free and leaving the carcass for the other animals, he’d leash up Tegol and use him to pull the carriage into a nice clearing.
Freeing Tegol, he’d take his horse out a ways, and dismount, returning to the carriage. His right arm was slack at his side by this point, Idril’s skin looking more like ash, ‘pale’ for somebody who is already bright-skinned. He’d lost a lot of blood, but this was personal…

Approaching the body-carrying carriage, he’d set the thing alight with a tinder-box held in his left pants pocket.
Removing the rapier from its sheath, he'd look down at it with a shake of his head.

Without any more thought on the subject, he'd toss the bird-themed rapier into the burning cart with the bodies.

"...and you can burn with them..." he says coldly.
Watching for a moment to make sure the fire started properly as the sun had finished setting, the glow from the crackling new fire dancing across the dirt and grass of the clearing, smoke rising in a pillar into the sky.

Satisfied that they’d both been given a proper burial by fire, he’d remount his horse and continue northward.

As he rode, much more slowly this time, he’d collapse forward onto Tegol, wounds finally catching up with him...


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