Wenarian
I'ldan

Race Miqo'te (Seeker of the Sun)
Gender Male ♂
Diety Rhalgr, the Destroyer
Status Free adventurer
Family Single father of a beautiful daughter, Ava O'ko
Lore Job BRD
Favorite Jobs in game BRD WAR MCH SGE MNK
DC Chaos (EU)
Server Omega

Each man is a bard of his own existence

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Notable Features

BODILY FEATURESThis man's body is covered in countless scars and cuts. Although most of them are usually hidden by clothing, some are visible nevertheless. Rarely did this man bother to visit a healer and therefore let his wounds fester and heal over time. Naturally all of them originated from various life situations and battles. Wenarian's hands and arms are scarred most heavily due to the constant use of the bow... and fists.Wenarian appreciates aesthetic appearances in others but has a rather realistic (and almost indifferent) perception of his own looks. Any material, be it stone, wood or iron will find its end one day or another. Flesh is not spared this fate. Thus cars never bothered this man and subsequently he had never tried to hide them in shame. If anything, heh, the look of some scars could cater for an interesting story or a lady's interest!There are two scars on Wenarian's body, however, which he is fairly nostalgic about. One of them is a deep cut on the left side of his lower jaw. It stretches along the jawline and crosses the lower part of his cheek. Surviving the streets of Ishgard as a young boy, Wenarian got caught stealing and earned this scar from a powerful kick of a guard's metal plated boot. By sheer luck the boy's jaw didn't get dislocated and he survived the powerful beating. No Ishgardian knight had ever been 'kind' to thieves, ay? Thus did Wenarian give himself a promise, to never be kicked like this in the face ever again.The second scar is of a magical nature. This one resembles a long, burned mark stretching along his lower right arm. So far this is the only injury caused by black magic. This very magic lays dorment and encapsulated within the male's aether, occasionally causing Wenarian discomfort and reminding him of the dangers of black magic. It was his former husband's spell, which scarred the Seeker in the days prior to them being a couple.EYE MARKINGSThe striking red markings, which stretch from the edges of the male's eyes, trace back to the lineage of Wenarian's father. The male ancestors born with such extravagant markings were destined to became the tribe's next Nunh. Wenarian had made the decision to stay tribeless and chose a life of an adventurer over his lineage. But some say the blood of a trueborn Nunh undeniably pulses in his veins.

ABILITIES and ideology

Venomous Bite / Caustic BiteAs a matter of the hunter's honor, it is of significant importance for Wenarian to craft his own poisonous mixtures, which he can then carefully apply to his arrows. He is never wasteful and the poison he crafts is fairly easy to replenish. Lucaine's teachings of the forests and respect towards the Elementals made Wenarian a considerate and resourceful hunter. The poison which he crafts, works as a strong muscle relaxant that causes death by paralyzing the targets respiratory system. He makes sure that any death caused by his arrows... is quick and painless.

Windbite / StormbiteAs a known fact, Wenarian is not skilled at aether manipulation and therefore lacks the ability to perform magic. However even a lost cause such as him, is still naturally attuned to the aether flowing through the Lands. After helping Silvairre to subdue Pawah and consign her infamous bandit gang to history, Luciane taught Wenarian a very important technique. With time and a lot of practice, did Wenarian learn how to feel the aetheric flow of wind. He then mastered the skill of 'capturing' and applying it to his arrows. For many years now he is using this technique as a part of his archer's kit.

Raging StrikesOnce Wenarian became a full fledged member of the God's Quiver, he was gifted with his own personal short bow. This precious gift served him well even after the Seeker left the Twelveswood, starting on his own personal adventures. During his travels did Wenarian truly discover the variety of different bows and deepened his knowledge in the fields of their application. He identified the longbow to be the weapon of his preference. This bow allowed him a considerably long and powerful draw; with arrows reaching for many mals without loosing their force. Thus, using longbows for many following years, had the Seeker earned dozens of scars from torn bowstrings. However this practice also formed his powerful arms and trained a strong, muscular torso and back. Wenarian's eyes are exceptionally good and his aim is true.

TroubadourThrough Jehantel did Wenarian learn about the lost battlesongs once used by the Bowmen of Eld to invigorate the comrades among the heat of battle. However it took Wenarian several years of practice to master this technique. Manipulating the force of aether was far more complicated than weaving songs from one's imagination. The strings of magic were hard for the Seeker to grasp. But the male was determined! And this stubborness proved to be his ultimate virtue; he sincerely wished to be able to make a difference in times of need. Wenarian wanted to be able to grant his comrades protection on the battlefield. And thus he succeeded! The Seeker needed time to understand how to enhance his natural abilities and inbuse them with aether. But he had managed to grant this ability the final 'voice'. And despite his limited aether affinity, he managed to achieve incredible progress!

Battle voiceWenarian prefers to play the role of a jester and lifts up the spirits of the companions in any party he travels with. However this seasoned adventurer is well familiar with the quickness of combat and the necessity to act. He is not a man who precautiously covers the back rows. He is a courageous fighter, who finds himself among his companions in the middle of the conflict. Wenarian's enthusiasm is contagious, his attitude is inspiring. The man manages to awaken passion and hope even within the most hardened of hearts.

Repelling ShotBeing an archer demands awareness of your surroundings and thorough knowledge of your opponents. Therefore being crystal clear about your role in a party and being aware of the distance to the enemy, is crucial in any form of combat. Of course, as any fighter, Wenarian has provem himself in being enduring and tough. But he lacks the needed bodily strength to repell the mighty attacks a gunbreaker or warrior could easily handle.
Therefore he compensates this flaw by being extremely agile and swift (partly due to his Miqo'te heritage!), and enjoys the natural benefits of switching between close and ranged combat. Since Wenarian isn't a sole back-row fighter and finds himself amids his companions in any fight, he needs to be constantly aware of his distance to any opponent. Therefore he had learned how to be light on his feet, training his legs to be able to quickly dash and get out of trouble if needed. This man can jump a considerate distance away from the enemy, without interrupting his shots.

Refulgent ArrowThis ability is the one Wenarian personally is quite proud of to have mastered. It took him the longest to learn, going through a tiring process of trial and error. And he most certainly wouldn't have gotten this far, without Jehantel's brimming faith and his calm guidance.

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A BOY from the fringes

Wenarian's story started long before the Seventh Umbral Calamity.He was born in Gyr Abania, in the Fringes, on the 28th Sun of the 1st Astral Moon under the protection and watchful eye of Rhalgr the Destroyer. Wenarian’s birth was a moment of true bliss for his parents, bundled in the blankets in their arms, both instinctively knew that their firstborn would walk a path of a remarkable journey.As the battle for Ala Mhigo unfolded and Gyr Abania lay in chaos, struggling to resist the forces of the Garlean Empire's subjugation, Wenarian's father I'ldan Nunh was forced to flee the lands, which their ancestors for generations named their homeland. Wenarian was too young to recall the raging war of Ala Mhigo, as Garlean Boots stomped through the sands and stripped many Nunh of their tribes. But the boy clearly remembered the sound of fear in his mother’s heartbeat, as La’naat carried him through the thick smoke and fire like he was a parcel of precious gold. For within her arms she held the greatest gift she would ever give Eorzea, a future Warrior of Light.Escaping the Fringes was neigh impossible with Baelsar’s Wall towering over the canyons and preventing the passage to the North Shroud. The last vestiges of the I’ldan family were able to elude the Garlean forces and find their way to Xelphatol, a land that was as harsh as Gyr Abania but in entirely new and alien ways... The climate was as unwelcoming as the many wild and hostile Ixali tribes. Wenarian's father had managed to secure a passage for their family in one of the highly dangerous Ixali Freight Balloons. And thus the three of them travelled, tightly packed among the cargo, while the cold biting wind was nipping at their skin like tiny, ravenous piranha.They were heading for the only solution at hand: The Holy See of Ishgard. A city state secluded from the world and untouched by the Garlean Empire. Joining the refugees, Wenarian's family managed to enter the city before its gates closed completely and the Dragon War engulfed the city state.

the freezing winds of ishgard

In the central region of Abalathia's Spine, that great mountain range that spans Aldenard from East to West, can be found the forbidding highlands of Coerthas and the Holy See of Ishgard. And perhaps initially, the Dragon War itself was almost a blessing for the I’ldan family. For although the war raged, Ishgard’s mighty stone walls often protected the citizens within, despite being permanently under siege. It was easy to lose oneself mindlessly to their impressive height and the intimidating towers.In some ways Ishgard did help Wenarian's family to forget the war they fled, the ravishing of their homeland and the decimation of their tribe. Ishgard’s walls, a beacon of might, security and safety, needed constant work and maintenance. Thus Wenarian’s early childhood days passed like a fleeting moment. Eager to assist his father, the boy found himself in the rows of the workers rebuilding the city walls.The work was hard, brutal and bone crunching. It was elegated to what the nobles would describe as the dregs of the Ishgardian society, those without homes, who could barely afford to eat. All that, whilst the Great Houses gorged themselves with bounties of plenty. Gluttony was rife within the walls of Ishgard and not even a false layer of happiness could disguise it. The social classes were divided in the ‘great’ city, and the I’ldans felt that bitterly.Yet it was not all doom and gloom, of course! Amongst the poor did the I’ldan family survive. For as brutal as the wall work was, it was almost trivial to a man who had the blood of a Nunh. And Wenarian’s father quickly earned the admiration and respect of his peers. There was this special bond between the unlanded. Among the poor. They would stick together and protect one another. In many ways, this was like a second clan to Wenarian’s father. His personality could shine over a drink, but his strength and leadership were well respected and well known. If Wenarian’s father spoke, men would listen.Although his dedicated duty lasted for years, not once was it noticed by anyone who claimed to be important. No nobility would ever dare turn their eyes to someone from Gyr Abania, of all places. The respect of the workers got you nothing in a society dominated by both wealth and status in equal measure. No lord would dare reach out to the commoner, afraid of what his neighbours may speak of him. And a family’s name could be broken in mere seconds, with centuries of ancestry and prominence instantaneously erased from any and all records. For as long as your name meant something to the right people, you had a value. Unfortunately the I’ldan name meant nothing to those with the power to do anything.From the age of six to eight the fate seem to be kind to Wenarian. Between the respect his father had in the poorest parts of Ishgard, to the other children that Wenarian would often play with, Ishgard was a place far from perfect... but for a boy of Gyr Abania who had been forced out so early - it was as good a home as any. Yet coming from a poor background, Wenarian learned that even noble children could be cruel. The adults were little better and on occasion strikes would be landed to remind the poor to keep their place. The forged, shining silver of Ishgardian steel was designed to withstand the onslaught of Dragons. And their spears, sharpened to hunt the terrifying monstrosities, would make quick work of the flesh... should one forget his place and cross them.Despite all that, La’naat’s influence shone through the person the young Wenarian would become. Whilst his father was a true Nunh, a male of peak power and physical form, it was his mother who taught the boy not the harsh realities of Eorzea, but to think, to feel and to be kind.However, the fate had other plans in mind, and it was the bitter cold of Ishgard herself that took La’naat from this world. Wenarian’s mother was stricken with a terrible, slow creeping illness. Within the city-state, the "lowborn" commonfolk have often been viewed as little better than disposable servants by nobles and the church. No diseases within the rows of workers have been considered worth treatment. The slums were not a valuable place for medical knowledge and even a simple infection could take a life.Therefore, weakened by the cold and illness, La’naat passed away as Wenarian turned nine. Having a strong connection to his mother, the boy additionally suffered from seeing his father destroyed by grief and sadness. The young Seeker boy was powerless, striken by sorrow and despair. For all that was left for them... was to watch La'naat's caring soul fade from this world.Partings were the most painful things, but they also encouraged personal growth. For a bird which lost the roof over its head would fly further than others of its kind. All parents wish that they could accompany their children forever, and the skies, seas and stars bear witness to that oath. Everything that was La'naat now found new life within her son's kind heart.And her words of love and wisdom whispered softly into Wenarian's ears, would live on vividly in the boy's youthful mind.As Wenarian grew older, the more he came to understand that these were not his people. They were not his home. From the ages of nine to ten the boy had worked side by side with his father, developing strength and power as they mended and built the city walls in unison. It was at his father’s side, that Wenarian learned a lot about stone, the way it was cut and formed, the most efficient ways to lift and move without injuring oneself. It was here... on these very walls, that the young Seeker had experienced his selfless nature for the first time. The boy knew what it was like to lose one's home to war. His father knew it all to well himself. And even though the Ishgardians mistreated them, none of the two would wish that very fate upon the people of Ishgard. None deserved such suffering. None ever did.But Ishgard did not give Wenarian the same compassion and sympathy. For he city of Ice continued to take from him, again and again.Wenarian’s life would again change drastically at the age of eleven. As the workers were repairing the damage done to the walls, another powerful attack from the infamous, scaled foe came crushing upon the city-state. The Ishgardians records will tell of the thirteen people who died that day. But the truth is a distorted affair. The death count was higher, far higher. For yes, thirteen landed Ishgardians died as boulders flew into the Jewelled Crozier, interrupting a pleasant day with a moment’s chaos.However dozens more died that day, the unlanded, the unimportant, the untouchable.And I’ldan, Wenarian’s father was among them.The young Seeker boy clawed at the rock that buried his father, crying tears of hysteria, as the harsh reality made it hard to believe what was happening. Yet nobody cared, not one Ishgardian thought of the boy, not one soldier looked his way. Their hearts as cold as the stone that buried his father. Only the other workers, those lucky enough to survive the fall of the wall, cared about the red-headed Miqo’te. A broken hearted T’ia who was now truly alone in this brutal world.They say villains are made of their backgrounds, but they never talk of the backgrounds of heroes.If one were to study the first eleven years of Wenarian’s life, one might fully believe he would grow to be a lawless criminal. That he would live to take and take again from the world that never have given him anything.The events did change Wenarian however. Stripped off his parent’s protection, the young Miqo'te faced the harsh truth of the Foundation community. Exploited for the hard work he was doing, the Miqo’te was considered too young to receive payment. With income denied and subsequently no way to pay for the scarce food, he became just another ‘mouth to feed’ and grew unwelcome.Good and honest work was not worth dying for. His father had always taught him the value of survival. And to die at the wall in the same way would very much disrespect his father's memory.The I’ldan name had to live on, and it would.Never again would he be Wenarian T’ia. In an almost poetic irony to the Ishgardians who scolded him, those who would put everything into the value of a last name, Wenarian took up his father’s name as his Surname. By doing so he erased his affiliation to any of the existing Seeker tribes.Wenarian T’ia was at last born as Wenarian I’ldan, as many of you may know him today.The memories of the following times are not something Wenarian is particularly proud of today. He would not die at the wall, but that also meant that what little income he had fell apart. And the influence of the now deceased I’ldan was sorely missed. Where the poor would come together around a low campfire, they would now whisper sinister secrets, hushed shadows and rumours. Others spoke wantonly of revolt against Ishgard, with little regard of their lives. Others cowed to their Elezen masters, selling out their fellow men out of total fear of any punishment that would follow if they did not.No longer were they unified, no longer was it safe for Wenarian to be amongst them.So, he turned to larceny, petty theft. Yes, this Warrior of Light, was once a lowly thief, fighting for survival. Never did Wenarian use excessive force, relying instead of his natural agility to grab and flee before the heavily armoured foes could catch up on him. And yet the kindness that his mother instilled within him burned bright still... reflected in indomitable generosity, a welcome smile and a kind heart as he shared the stolen food with orphans and beggars faring war worse than him.Wenarian often talks about how he remembers one time, where he fled with meat from a local merchant. Starving he had not eaten properly in a whole week; not he, nor any of the other orphans. Ans so the Seeker made a bold play and even though he fled as fast as his legs could carry, but t’was not fast enough. The guards beat the boy like a sack of flour. Their boots tore his skin and fractured his bones and all Wenarian could do - was protect his head, as blow after blow would fall upon him. This began the trails of many scars that would follow the Seeker throughout the rest of his life.Wenarian often likes to joke, saving face for Ishgard more than himself, by telling tales of how those scars were earned in battle. But instead the truth is, the majority of the scars on Wenarian’s body were not caused by Garleans, or Sin Eaters, or even Primals. Those scars were caused by Ishgardians.“Survive.”He remembered his father’s words. And he would survive, yes. And thus, being driven by hunger, cold and hopelessness of his situation, the young boy found himself looting the market stalls all over again.

echo within the crystals

Aether is the source of life and magic. Being able to see, wield and sense it is the people's natural gift and they use it effectively in all manners of life. However, for as much as aether gives, it also takes, to maintain a harmony and balance within the world.Wenarian did not yet know, but he... wasn't quite as gifted in aetherical manipulation. The youth's attempts at magic were modest at most! Therefore he simply lacked the natural ability to wield aether. However he was gifted in other ways! The boy's body was strong, durable, it was able to take punishment and survive. And when he needed to run, jump and climb, everything just came naturally.Wenarian could instinctually run through terrain he has only just witnessed as if it was his hunting ground for many years, and his words… his words gave people hope, they inspired.Surviving became easier and the world became more interesting. More challenging. And it was in crystals, which he would see noblemen bander around like petty jewellery, that the Seeker first heard her voice. Hydaelyn called to Wenarian from a young age. And although he did not know who she was... and how or why she would speak to him, her voice would always tell him not to worry. And thus, in Wenarian’s darkest hours, he felt her being close, filling the void left behind by the death of his parents.Wenarian does not remember exactly what happened on the day of his first teleportation. His memory continues to be hazy. It happened on the day he had stolen an entire satchel of materials that had been requisitioned for investigation.One of the satchel's belongings was a crystal. Its look was so mesmerizing and hypnotising, that the Miqo’te’s usually swift crime was easily unveiled. No doubt because once the crystal surfaced from the bag, the young Seeker found himself gawping at it in wonder and adoration. As he mused over its peculiar form, the crystal lay in the boy’s hands, luminescent and radiating warmth. The feeling it awakened was soothing, foreign and yet oddly familiar.As the inquisitor barked, screamed and wailed about heresy and divine retribution for the untouchable the lad quickly came to his senses. The Ishgardians were not going to beat him up this time. They were intent to kill the brat! Arrows and even bullets flew after the teenager, as his feet carried him as fast as they could. Every time he slipped his body collided heavily with the cold and unwelcoming surface of Ishgard streets. But the Seeker had no time to feel the pain! Again and again he picked himself up and let his feet carry himself onwards. To be honest, Wenarian did truly believe he would die that day.It was then that a bright, foreign memory flickered through Wenarian's mind. The image of trees and the sun shining through the thick canopy was so vivid, that the boy's entire being clung to this odd memory with all his might...Then suddenly his feet found nothing. No cold, no sharp stone... just nothingness. And brimming, blinding light warped the space around him. It was in fact so bright, that he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut and cry out in pain.In the next moment Wenarian felt himself falling, teleporting to what is known as luscious, bountiful land of Gridania.Or rather, the North Shroud.

Woodwrath

In the eastern reaches of the Aldenard landmass, home to vast, dense woodlands and coursing rivers, lies the forest nation of Gridania.At Fallgourd Float the teenager looked out of place, unwashed and unkept. The Wood Wailers would have noticed him immediately had Wenarian stayed in one place. But he was so hypnotised by the land around him, that he had found his feet instinctually carrying him out of the safe haven, and into the wilderness. This land was full of sun, scents and unique beauty. No towering walls, no cold no snow...Everything was so open, so different, so magnificent.Was it a dream..? He wondered, while clutching the all but spent crystal to his chest.The people of Gridania called this place The Blessed Bud; the elemental energies coursing through these grounds were strong and vibrant. There was one issue, however. Beings all too familiar to the wandering boy - the Ixal. Once observing his father’s interactions with the beastmen, the Seeker knew to keep his distance and remain hidden from their watchful gaze.Wenarian travelled along the Treespark grounds further North. However his enthusiasm faded quickly. The dreadful feeling of being watched never fully left the boy. And with the crystal now silent and dim, he felt more alone than he had ever felt before. Wenarian wandered on... growing sick, infected and weary. His mind a blur and his feet still cut up from the Ishgardian stone that he was running over mere seconds before.In truth, this was no accident. Hydaelyn had found the only land where Wenarian could truly thrive and helped him reach it. For she knew that he would not be able to compete with the fierce, selfish merchants of Ul’dah. And whilst the Pirates of Limsa Lominsa may have had more in common with how Wenarian had lived the past few years of his life, their way was not his to live.The illness that started to grip the body of the young boy was Woodwrath. A cruel sickness inflicted by Elementals, who watched over native Gridanians. And this boy was a foreign element, disrupring their balance. Scenting of Ishgard but looking Gyr Abanian, he was as much an alien to Gridania, as a new species would be. The Yellow Serpent Gate wasn’t constructed yet, but the entrance to Gridania was guarded well. The Hedge prevented outsiders and travellers from being subject to the violent elemental nature. But the Hedge had faltered recently and the guards were highly alarmed.On top of the growing sickness, Wenarian did not know where he was. Neither did he know how truly far from Ishgard he had come. And there was still one very irate Inquisitor that could be hunting him down with vengeance...By the time Wenarian had reached the gates of the new city-state he wasn't feeling well at all. His body was burning up, the Seeker kept dragging his feet foward. Walking straight felt harder than ever before. Wenarian had absolutely no idea what was happening to him. He had never felt that kind of sickness before.Stumbling, he moved on and on...Wood Wailers were well known for their knowledge of the land, their mastery of the Shroud and their natural gifts. It was easy for them to spot the tell-tale signs of sickness. Wenarian was apprehended with ease and quickly taken into isolated custody. By that time the boy had grown completely indifferent to his surroundings; his limbs shook with fever.After the council with the Conjurer's Guild, the young Miqo'te was escorted into the Guild quaters. He wouldn't be able to satisfy any interrogation in the state he was in. So after a long discussion with the Seed Seer, the decision was finally made. The Dance of Purification was performed and it was able to spare the boy's life.Mother Miounne, the proprietress of the "Carline Canopy", Gridania's ever popular teashop, had played a significant part in Wenarian's swift recovery and acclimatation. Naturally the natives looked at the Seeker with distrust, but that was no different to Ishgard. Wenarian knew well how to avoid a wayward gaze, and with Mother Miounne acting as a form of sponsor, he opted to be on his best behaviour. Which, knowing Wenarian, probably still left something to be desired!

God's Quiver

With help and support of Mother Miounne, Wenarian had quickly grasped what the Adventurer’s Guild was about. Being allowed to stay at the Inn until he could fully recover, the boy spent his days eavesdropping conversations and watching the many adventurers come and go. With the lessons of his parents still within his heart, Wenarian swiftly won himself friends. Clearing the tables left by vacant adventurers, he would pay back for Mother Miounne's kindness. And hear many a tale about the exciting world out there! Gridania was so different to Ishgard. And when he learned of Ul’dah, the Seeker wondered if again Ul’dah would be different to Gridania? And what about Limsa Lominsa?Adventurers were of every gender, size, skill and race. They weren’t Ishgardian, Gridanian, rich or poor. They were simply… adventurers. They went out, explored the world and brought back stories that entire crowds would find captivating! The young Seeker included. Seeing the world appealed to Wenarian greately, as he often thought about his lonely walk through the woods of Gridania.He wondered if there were any others, just like him, lost and roaming, needing someone to help them..?That was all the growing teenager wanted to do. Despite how the world had treated him, his heart was untainted, and he wanted to help. Wenarian wanted to see the world, he wanted to experience all manner of life.Eventually Wenarian’s eavesdropping was noticed by Mother Miounne. Naturally his ears and tail often betrayed his curiosity. And thus with her gentle, guiding hand did she put him on his first path to become an adventurer. She explained to him the various Guilds which were available and where those were situated. For a moment, Wenarian thought about his father. And for a flash of a second the idea of becoming a Pugilist came to his mind. His father had always been so confident, so strong! And like many boys who adored their fathers, the idea of being powerful like him was tempting. However, Wenarian also knew that becoming a Pugilist would not reflect his identity.Instead Wenarian found himself wishing to join the Quiver’s Hold. Gridania was faced with an ever-growing Ixali threat at that time. And the Archers of the guild played a crucial role in gathering information, scouting terrain, exploring lands and dealing with the Ixali threats. It was the information that the Archers gathered, that gave tactical advantages to the more recognisable, front-line lancers. Knowledge of terrain which required swiftness and deft feet... this called to Wenarian.Now Wenarian never openly speaks about this, but Luciane Corne, who has been a close family friend for many years because of their bond, actually said once;“Wenarian’s skills lay in his speed. He was quick to move from point to point and he was thorough and precise in remembering what he saw. In truth, in matters of the bow alone, Wenarian in his early days was… truly awful. He was not one for the Bow’s elegant design, his methods crude and his technique wild.”Despite all of that, Luciane also stated, that the boy's stubborn nature was the very thing that made her reluctant to accept Wenarian in the first place. He was never the one to falter, or be put off. Where his skills lacked, the Seeker would train, and he would train... and he would train. However crude his methods, Wenarian would rise to meet every challenge head on.It was Mother Miounne who helped persuade Luciane to give this boy a chance. In this one statement, she had done more for Wenarian than the entire nation of Ishgard. She set him on a path that would change not just his own life, but the lives of countless Eorzeans in the years to follow. No matter how much Wenarian’s methods tried Luciane’s temper, it was the influence of his mother and that pure-of-heart kindness, that helped the Seeker to win Luciane's trust. Wenarian was untamed and full of wild energy, yes, but the lad also had quite a hidden potential!Under Luciane’s watchful eye, and careful guidance, Wenarian’s studies would focus any and all ranged weaponry, including crude improvised weaponry for ambushes (Author’s note: This means rocks). She nurtured the caring heart and allowed it to once again find confidence. Wenarian was slowly becoming less stubborn. And whilst some of his techniques remained crude for many years, such as the rough and unrefined nature of his hand-fletched arrows, he was able to master the presented techniques with his own… flair. And in the end, it was his unqiue approach to situations, that would not only win Luciane over but also create a lasting bond that would keep her in Wenarian's life for many years to come.Wenarian’s ‘graduation’, for lack of a better word, came when the Guild had gifted him a bow and quiver. Each one was important and unique to the archer who received it. It was as much an award as any diploma or certificate. In fact it was the missing piece of the puzzle, the last item and the last tool Wenarian required to step forward - to go out into the world and become an Adventurer!For the first time in his life, the world was not closed to Wenarian anymore. Eyes did not look upon him with judgement or hate, but instead they shone with pride. The daily hunts, rigorous training and dedication to the cause had finally paid off, and Luciane set Wenarian loose upon the world. And Wenarian was indeed excited to be free! There was no mission too weird, too boring or too dangerous. If it involved even a modicum of travelling - then Wenarian would be there to accept the contact graciously! And with an almost annoying enthusiasm would this young Seeker go about the tasks. He was living his best life and saw Eorzea to its fullest extent.The young boy became a young man, and sure as the sun rose and seas would ebb and flow... so too did Wenarian discover a brand-new interest of his: women.Well, there are more than a few Eorzeans out there who owe their heritage to this particular Miqo’te. (Author's note: In fact, if you are reading this and you have red hair, dark skin, never knew your dad and your mother says your father was a silver-tongued devil… well, Wenarian just may be your missing parent!)This particular Seeker has always oozed confidence and he took this confidence with him wherever he went. He learned very quickly how to interact with other people, how to amuse them and how to dance carefully around topics. Wenarian's natural curiosity got him into a lot of trouble early on, of course! And that would be where Wenarian discovered his natural gift for talking himself out of problems.His ability to think quickly as well as work his way around all manner of tedious social outcomes, meant that the Seeker quite often became well-liked by those he travelled with. In fact it’s almost impossible to take Wenarian shopping anywhere even nowadays, both in major cities and small villages because numerous people will feel the need to talk to him, having recognised him from past years. Whilst being quite annoying at times, this is but a true representation of Wenarian’s skills in action.It is part of those positive qualities that made Wenarian - Wenarian.In many ways he was far better at resolving issues without conflict than any well-known diplomat! (Author's note: The only thing that set him apart from them, was how a lot of these conflicts were not just resolved by Wenarian, but also caused by by him.)Despite how hard she tried, Luciane could not instil a robust sense of discipline within the Seeker. His carefree and playful ways naturally won the hearts of those he would meet. But they had also stopped him from progressing at one point.It was this inability to help Wenarian grow any further, combined with a deep care for the young teenager, that led Luciane to mention two things to Wenarian: Bards and “Godsbow”.

the soul of the bard

Wenarian enjoyed meeting other travelers, listening to their stories, learning of their customs and cultures, understanding their history. Without an obvious intention or a deliberate plan, Wenarian always tended to become the heart of any party he travelled with. His jester-like ways and keen wit made him easy to talk to. But his personal growth was lacking a goal; a higher purpose.The concept of a Bard was not entirely alien to Wenarian. He had travelled with many interesting individuals, drank at the side of very colourful characters and tasted walks of life from almost every corner of the known world. However, Bards had a particular way of being. It was safe to say that, although he knew what they were, he did not yet truly understand them. In spite of that, Wenarian found the term 'bard' alluring.It called to him, almost like a constant, hushed whisper.Following Lucaine's suggestion, Wenarian wandered out into the Twelveswood to find Jehantel Fointeaume, the former captain of the Gods' Quiver. A man called the 'Godsbow'. His name was not given in jest, for Jehantel was a remarkable archer, perhaps one of the very best. By the time Wenarian found Jehantel the Wildwood Elezen had long since dropped the bow, but that did not mean that he had nothing to teach the Seeker. In fact, it was here that Wenarian got his first taste of culture, as Jehantel taught Wenarian concepts about Poetry and Verse.Because of his upbringing, the Seeker did not learn to read, nor write. Coming from the streets, with no prior education, Wenarian managed to come by without such knowledge. Yet through his sensitive ears, and that same precise attention to detail that made him fit into Quivers’ Hold, he was able to understand these concepts at a practical level. By no way was Wenarian a perfect student! The taught theory was forgotten almost as swiftly as it was explained, but Wenarian did understand regardless. True to the Seeker's character, he was able to achieve a lot... if allowed to do it his way, versus a strict and traditional method. Wenarian was simply not one for collars.Poetry and Verse had a very distinct sound. And the Miqo’te found himself understanding that sound, feeling that natural rhythmic flow. When he listened to Jehantel’s stories Wenarian found himself naturally drawn in by natural curiosity. Yet there was also an additional, almost aethereal pull in the way words were said and how they were arranged.Whilst Wenarian was no stranger to mischief, he had yet to discover what a Moogle was capable of! This discovery came at a later year beneath Jehantel’s guidance. Wenarian considered the Moogle he met, Pukno Poki, to be a kindred spirit! Mischief making and playful jests were common for this floating fellow, and the young Seeker often found himself being pulled in and joining in on the ‘fun’ (Author's note: sometimes under the influence of alcohol or otherwise).Wenarian’s dutiful sense of loyalty is such, that he still makes time to visit this Moogle whenever he travels back to the Black Shroud.It was through Pukno Poki, that Wenarian eventually discovered the Soul of the Bard: one of many known Soul Crystals within Eorzea. Most people never achieve a resonation within their lifespan. It is common for some individuals, to only achieve one such bond. And the truly gifted people may achieve multiple resonations with numerous crystals. This one peculiar green crystal spoke to Wenarian. This Soul of the Bard stayed with the Seeker, bonded with him, and taught him more and more as time passed.Wenarian’s days as a Bard were not too different from his days as an Archer, at least at first. He continued to travel and wander'; telling stories with a renewed confidence, winning himself new friends (Author's note: drinking with them until they became temporary enemies, then drinking more until they became friends again.) Wenarian has always loved a strong ale, in fact no. Wenarian never enjoyed a single strong ale. He enjoyed multiple strong ales, sometimes at the same time. Rhalgr gave him two hands for a reason, no?Despite his constant charming way with words, and the countless women who had a taste of a wild and untamed Bard... Wenarian too fell in love for the first time once before.There was a woman he met in the city of Limsa Lominsa. A fine and powerful woman, a Roegadyn called Silent Snow. She taught Wenarian a great deal. And whilst he never lacked in raw, uncontrolled passion... it was she, who taught the Seeker how to turn that passion into something that could please others. She showed him both energetic and soft ways in equal balance, defining when it was appropriate to let that energy shine and flourish to its fullest.Wenarian does not talk much about her, nor how she broke his heart... For he did understand the terms of their parting, despite how much it hurt him. He was land-locked and really quite uncomfortable around all forms of water. And the sea called to her, in the same way that the open road called to him. Silent Snow was his first love and a close and intimate bond. But their paths diverged uncontrollably. Wenarian keeps these memories to himself but this woman's influence on him remains evident and clear.And although the bard has a list of bedfellows, (Author's note: A far greater list than the entire theoretical paper on ‘Aethereal Conversion in Black Magic’), none of them would ever understand him the way this Roegadyn did or touch his heart the way she could. Drawing in close, brief and fleeting moments of weakness, glimpsing behind the veil of the Bard.

Calamity and end to known

Wenarian kept on living his life after parting ways with Silent Snow. For a few years in a row, he was riding with traders from various caravans; exploring the continent was his main goal. He had no particular destination in mind. Wenarian’s journeys took him as far as the Sea of Jade. It was around that time that one of the most fateful meetings had happened, slowly but steadily turning his life upside down. He started courting a male of his utmost interest, an Elezen named Aygun.To be honest, Wenarian wasn’t known as a man sharing interest in other males. Quite on the contrary even! But there was something about Aygun, which the Miqo’te simply couldn’t ignore. Skilled in dark arts and aether manipulation, Aygun was the complete opposite of the bard. And people do say that the opposites tend to attract each other...Well, if that was the case though, then the affection was most certainly one-sided! For it was Wenarian’s path of trial and error to walk towards a man, seemingly cold and disinterested in anything but magic. Eventually, as annoying as his ceaseless flirtations could be, the pragmatic Aygun did find him to be a dependable resource. A companion worthy enough to stay by his side for the time being. Since Wenarian’s travels took him all over the world, he was able to find all manner of things, such as exotic materials, alchemical reagents and other items the Blackmage could possibly need. And the Seeker would never disappoint (Author's note: Wenarian would return sometimes injured, sometimes drunk. Sometimes both). He did return and he would always have what Aygun had asked for.It was this dependability that led Aygun to believe in Wenarian and his ability to assist him. However at this point in Aygun's life, Wenarian was useful... but otherwise very uninteresting. Wenarian grew greatly but this growth would, like many good things, take time. The two companions would delve through the depths of ruins and dungeons alike. Aygun knew that Wenarian would be able to provide the needed support in any battle... when he was not goofing off! But jokes and flirtations aside. Just as he had been described amongst the Quiver, when it came to his work - the Seeker certainly knew how to focus and was very dependable.Yet Wenarian could not catch Aygun's attention. Despite the hopeless seeming outlook, the bard never gave up. Not even once! It was a year before the Battle of Carteneau Flats and the Descent of Dalamud, that Wenarian would become too bold in his attempt to cross certain boundaries... and with that he earned the Blackmage's ire.It was that day, that he dared to steal a kiss without Aygun's consent. Not wishing to reduce the cheeky Seeker to ash right away but wanting to teach him a good lesson, the Elezen unleashed black magic upon him. A powerful bolt which struck the male's arm was a well-deserved punishment, a price he paid for his advances. Aygun never expected to see Wenarian again after that as the latter left injured.However, that same day Wenarian had also earned Aygun's earnest attention. Not for the kiss, of course, but for his return. Burned by a Black Mage and scorned as a lover, would’ve discouraged many individuals. So the Elezen was pretty astonished to find the Miqo'te back at his doorstep, with that same goofy smile and a crude bandage around his newly earned burn.From that moment on, Wenarian continued much as he was; laughing, telling jokes, making racket with his music as if nothing had ever happened. Save for one major change. Wenarian never again broke Aygun's boundaries or made a new bold attempt. Never again did he do something, which his companion could consider to be ‘disrespectful’. And for the first time, Aygun started noticing more about the Seeker.Wenarian had seen twenty-three summers come and go, when the Seventh Umbral Calamity took place. All men, capable of fighting, have been called to arms by the City-States throughout Eorzea. Both Wenarian and Aygun had ventured to Carteneau Flats to assist their respected Alliances in fighting the Garlean Empire's invasion.Watching Dalamud descend upon the planet's surface was a dreadful sight for friend and foe alike. When Dalamud burst open, releasing the elder primal Bahamut from his captivity, his infernal wrath was unleashed upon the entire Realm. The ground shook, the cities vanished in flames. Wenarian would never forget the fear seizing and suffocating him, angst crawling down his spine as he lifted the gaze towards the burning heavens.A single fleeting moment was needed... to understand and feel how petty the worldly concerns of people were, compared to such an inavoidable disaster. A great catastrophe, which would put an end to everything he knew. Mark an end to the stories of everyone he held dear. A disaster which, according to the Scholars of Sharlayan, had devastated the world repeatedly and rendered all known... to ashes six times before his own era.This was, what they called a Calamity.The dreadful realisation of one's presence being meaningless, given the overwhelming scale of the conflict... Facing the inevitable devastation and demise of allies and foes alike... Watching people burn, machines clash, metal srape, flesh being torn by spears and bullets... These images, Wenarian would never forget.Yet hearing the shouts of agony and watching people flee and retreat in overwheling fear... made the Seeker's hand grab his bow and quiver tightly. The grounds around Wenarian oozed with the scent of burnt flesh and melting armor. He saw no point in running. But he didn't blame the many around him who did.With the fire raining from the sky, there was no place for anyone to hide. No point in even trying. No a single spot upon Eorzea's continents would be granted any kind of salvation... now would it? And so amids the heat of the battlefield, Wenarian pressed on, fighting until his last breath.If that was the last thing he ever did... he could be selfish. This one time!He wanted to make his parents proud. Who cared if he couldn't or wouldn't live to tell the tale? At least he would die trying to stop the Garlean army. Like so many adventurers around him, Wenarian had all the reasons to be here. To fight the foe, who once ravaged and destroyed his homeland. An enemy who only knew how to subjugate. A force which erased countless lives and cultures, in the wake of their endless seeming invasions. Garlemald needed to be stopped, no matter the cost.And so recalling Jehantel's lessons and truly understanding the severity of his teachings... it was in the middle of the battlefielf, that Wenarian finally grasped what it meant to be a bard. He sang in the heat of battle, fortifying the spirits of the companions around him. Granting hope, urging to courage. And in his own voice, Wenarian heard a reflection of hers. Whilst his words swayed over the hearts of men and inspired the adventurers around him to press on and fight the enemy... she sang a song of peace for those, who lay upon the precipice of death.But the battle of Carteneau wasn't meant to crown Wenarian's final day.It was said, that a well-known Sharlayan scholar had invoked the power of Althyk, the Keeper, and sent the fighting adventurers into an aetherial rift. By doing so, he saved them from the raining debris of the artificial satellite.Wenarian and Aygun both happened to be among those saved lives.It would be five years later, a whiff of a moment spent in the aetherial sea, that Wenarian would emerge from the rift and find himself... in a Realm Reborn. A world so familar once but now changed beyond recognition.For none of the people and friends he knew, even remotely remembered him or his face...

Dawn of a new age

Resistance (TBC)

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THE MAD ARTIST

FOLLOWING THE WAYS OF BARDS AND LISTENING TO THE SONGS OF THE WILD

I do art!
And I like coffee.
Combining both is considered to be my ultimate skill!I go by the name of yokufo and you can find me pretty much anywhere online :D

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Nobody is born a hero

But each of us has the potential to become one of his own kind. No matter where we come from or where our paths take us. In the end, we all walk upon the same Earth. But as Gods willst it, each of us experiences the world from our own unique perspective. People who help us, defy us, betray us, support us and love us - they are our worldly forge.

Wenarian I'ldan

Mother Miounne

A boy from somewhere, heading nowhere.

"A beautiful woman. Kind, attentive and fair. I remember fondly the time that I spent under her protective wing. She had seen in me what others did not. Something that I, myself, couldn't believe even existed. Moreover, she helped me in ways no other person would have done at that time. After the death of my parents, she was the first one to make me feel wanted.Oh, how many times has she been met with my silence and stubborn dissociation! How often did I neglect her advice. Hah, another person would have given up on me, no doubt!Yet never once did her belief in me falter. It was her who had taught me how to put my trust in others again. It was Mother Miounne who softly nudged me into the direction I needed to go, watching my steps closely.And in all honesty? Hah, never did I meet anyone so knowledgeable about all the various types and kinds of tea, served throughout Eorzea!"

Luciane - Guildmaster

A boy from nowhere, giving his all to get somewhere.

"Oh boy, it would be significantly easier to count all the fights, rather than estimate the entirety of peaceful days spent among the two of us! Lucaine has always been known for her uneasy temper, demanding attitude and unyielding stubborness. And hell, I didn't make it easier for her!Back in the day, when I had freshly joined the Quiver's Hold, any word leaving Lucaine's mouth, would manage to dampen my very excitement in a whiff of a moment. She made me soak in the rain all day, watching me throw rocks at targets. She forced me to run hundreds of errands (or so I felt back then!) for the Quiver's Hold daily. She did her best to rub in my face that I had neither the patience nor the grace, to become an Archer.She was my 'muleta' and I was the most untamed 'street brat' she had ever met. And yet, heh, here we are!Our first hunt together made the endless seeming arguments between the two of us stop. It was like a moment of clarity! Something that is felt, rather than seen. Whatever it was, that made Lucaine look at me from a different perspective that day, was also what made me finally heed her words; forcing me to look past my own biased judgement.She had literally opened my eyes to the world around us, teaching me lessons most valuable!"

Chloe

Astonishingly familiar with beast tribes for someone of his age!

"I consider Chloe my first real acquaintance in the Quiver’s Hold. She used to overlook my training a couple of times. A brave girl but an extremely chatty one! At first, I considered her extremely annoying. Then we opened up to each other and voilà! Hah, sometimes it does take a small act of kindness; like a cup of a fresh black coffee on a rainy morning.It was through her that I learned a whole deal about the history of the Archers’ Guild. That the Gods' Quiver were a response to the Ixali attacks and that their force consisted of twelve units, with exactly one hundred fifty men.Chloe was always proud to call herself and her comrades "Gridania's eyes". Except... watching the area from the high watchspires made her feel very uneasy. Chloe has never been and still isn't a fan of heights! I have never struggled with those personally, therefore found it rather amusing and teased her about that constantly. She smirked and never took me seriously, thank Gods!I couldn't imagine being stationed in a single garrison all the time. Luckily Chloe had explained to me the structure of the guild and the rotation of men between posts. Thus everyone had a chance to lear the terrain and be prepared to challenge foes anywhere in the Twelveswood."

Jehantel

A young man willing to listen to an old bard’s poetry and verse?! Blasphemy!

"I bet when we first met, Jehantel didn’t place any high expectations into me. And after being so disappointed observing what the Godsbow has become, I questioned my own decision as well. But call it fate or coincidence, we have managed to work together long enough to become trusted companions!Through Jehantel and Pukno Poki did I learn the true meaning of being a ‘bard’. Being a passionate minstrel at heart, Jehantel taught me a many valuable lessons. It was his talk about the power of battlesongs, that had me enchanted.I’ve never been talented at manipulating aether and thus wasn’t confident that my own voice could make a difference. I had never sang as such... and had none to teach me. But Jehantel understood my doubts and had guided me towards a far clearer answer; he had opened my eyes, saying that the beauty of one's voice did not have to come from year-long training and schooling.The bowmen of eld had enjoyed far less and achieved far more! They were once fortifying the spirits of their comrades in the heat of battles, enchanting their allies with hope and strength. Any voice could hold sway over the hearts of men, if this voice spoke with passion and sincerety.In the end, it was the bard's personality, which inspired those around him."

Master of Arms

The boy's very stubborn, but not a lost cause.
Though he has to learn to direct his strength at more pressing matters.

"A good lad! Strict but fair. He was working together with several Guilds and taught the newcomers the basics of combat. The training, I recon, was quite overwhelming for any beginner but he did his job thoroughly and with passion unmatched.I remember myself being ways too stubborn to appreciate his lessons at first. I was constantly thinking as a hunter. Not as a fighter. And with so many things to keep in mind, my old habits were getting in-between constantly. He called it “tunneled vision” and damn, I was pretty good at that!But to be able learn from him properly, I had to change the way of my own thinking. It took a while to “click” but once it did – Oh boy! Learning became so much easier, hah. All the hard training had helped me to set my priorities straight. And this man had opened my eyes at the meaning of my role in any adventuring party, disclosing my own, unique potential."

I'ldan Nunh

Deceased

"My father was a man I shared a lot of respect for. As the Nunh and leader of the Two River Tribe in our native Gyr Abanian Fringes, he was not only well versed in all aspects of tribal politics but was also an outstanding and fear inducing warrior.I wish I could have had more time to grow up at his side, being given a chance to properly convey my thoughts and converse with him. I reckon we would have shared a lot of interesting and exciting conversations! Oh, how many questions would I ask him, heh. And yet most of them will forever be left unanswered. It's only natural for us, those who are left behind, to wish for the inevitable to have never happened.And yet I know that everything my father has done and every decision he had made, was there to ensure his family's safety and give me a chance to paved my own future."

La'naat Theyn

Deceased

"Warmth spreads through my chest every time I think back and recall the soft and soothing smile my mother gifted me with. She was a fine Sharlayan lady, who hailed from a family of respected scholars. Posessing a bright, logical and inquisitive mind La'naat belonged to the leading graduates in her field of aetherical research.Her parents had moved to the Sharlayan colony in Dravanian Hinterlands due to my mothers poor health, hoping it would improve her condition. Most unfortunately her lungs suffered from the island climate in Sharlayan. Thus hopes for her health's betterment were pretty high. By doing this she was able to gain back strength and keep on progressing with her research on the Aetherial Sea.Little did my mother's parents know, however, that their beloved daughter will be abducted right under their watchful eye by a travelling Miqo'te warrior... my father."

Ava O'ko

Dad's one the best storytellers out there! Oh how I wish I could experience even a fraction of his adventures!

"She is the blessing of my life, my own flesh and blood. My daughter, my very pride. And the gravest of my sins. She is a constant reminder of love's endless ways and the result of my own selfishness and lack of foresight.I have not considered the consequences of the passion shared with her mother... A Keeper woman from the Shroud, whose name I do not recall in all my shame.When Ava, a babe of mere months, was handed over to me by the head of the Keeper tribe... I felt the responsibity of my deed strike me like a bolt of levin. Ava's mother died giving birth to this girl. And the reason why the tribe didn't dispose of the child in my absence, was the resemblence Ava shared with her mother. I would have said so many thing to her, apologized and asked for forgiveness...Alas the time is a never ending spinning wheel of fate. And as we learn to live with our mistakes and failures, we need to look towards the future.A brighter future, which I would do everything to ensure my daughter has."

Satien Aean

Hm, about Wenarian? Even if you might think he doesn't take something serious, don't let it fool you. He is pretty sharp to catch up on that and manages to read people quite well..

"What I can tell you with utmost certainty about Satien, is that this boy will do his best to see things done. I have yet to see him try less than his very best. He will use his strength, his passion and his unyielding dedication to reach the goals he puts before himself. And, well-; needless to say that sometimes such achievements come at cost of his own health. Satien's dedication definitely doesn't have an "Off-season", hah!Behind the barriers of disassociation and distrust hides a very sincere and kind soul. One has to keep looking to find this warm and gentle spark, as it takes a lot of patience and time. Yet the reward is far greater than any costs spent.Satien is one of the children, who needed to grow up fast in times of turmoil, following in the wake of the Calamity. He is incredibly adult and far too serious for his youthful age. The world had been cold and cruel to this boy. How do I know? Let's say-; the two of us had walked along the same path. Though each in his own time.And therefore I can relate to both his way of thinking and the trails of his worries. He might not be a person of many words and is mostly silent. But he will always speak up, when there is a need for him to be heard!"

Ja'zari Nunh

The son of my dear friend and companion, they couldn't be more alike and yet so very different at the same time. I feel nostalgic, spotting the spirit of his father and the expressiveness of his mother on Wenarian's features, heh. You see, we might not have had the greatest start, but I am fully determined to keep up my word and get to know not only my best friend's, but also my own flesh and blood - Satien, whom Wenarian had brought back to me.

"I remember a few times in which my father was speaking about this 'mysterious' friend of his, going by the name of Ja'zari.A friend. A Nunh. An archer blessed by Gods.He had joined my father on his journeys to gain strength and influence. Their first meeting couldn't have been a more spontaneous one. And these two couldn't have been more different. And yet... they managed to get along... somehow, according to Ja'zari, heh.Our paths had crossed just recently and this man still remains a mystery to me. But being a loving and attentive father to his son Satien, makes me want to lend him an ear. And a hand in times of need, should he need it."

Sagan Halha

Wenarian's a man who is easy to get along with. I often find myself enthralled by the many stories of his adventures.

"Ah, Sagan! The machinist from Ishgard, a man as fierce as a Coerthan grizzley but with a heart of pure gold! I recall the day I have met him on one of the posh galas in Ishgard. He appeared just as lost, as I've felt myself; a wonderful premise for a talk! The good old fellow Cid has been working with Sagan for many years, singing praises of this man's unique gifts, bright mind and fantastic engineer abilities! And in all honesty, I quickly understood why.Sagan revealed to me that he hails from a family of a wealthy Othardian merchant. His father was born on land, while his mother came from Sui no Sato. Growing up in a family of many siblings, life has been tough but exciting. Sagan loved travelling with his parents but had never felt particularly interested in the family's business. So once his family has been granted a stay in Kugane, the young Au Ra rebelled against his father's wishes to settle down. Kugane was suffocating him immensely.Thus, to prevent the young Au Ra from causing trouble in and around Kugane, Sagan's parents sent the lad far away. To Ishgard. Sagan found his new home with the Machnisit Guild and Skysteel Manufactory. He quickly became an irreplacable member of the Garlond Ironworks. Some say, he is viewed as their leading engineer. But Sagan won't openly speak about it, heh.Never have I seen a man capable of repairing literally anything... Be it the most complex Ceruleum plant, a piece of tricky Magitech machinery or a hopelessly broken toaster. His mind works in mysterious ways!"

V'reeah Tia

Ah, the bard? He likes to get involved into other people's business, always lending an ear, chatting away and this goddamn smile on his face, as if didn't have a worry in the world. How he manages to stick with his positive outlook on the world, despite facing misery left and right, is a mystery to me. But if he set his mind onto something, he won't drop it, until he reaches his goal - even if being faced with silence for months. He can be as inspiring, as he can be annoying...

"Reah and me had crossed ways a few years ago, back when I was still an active part of the Resistance. Back then Garlemald's rule and oppression held Gyr Abania in a tight and suffocating grip. I remember well how our scouting parties managed to overpower a Garlean convoy with prisoners. That day many people died and only few survivers were left to tell the tale. V'reeah or Reah, as he prefers to call himself, was one of them. I believe we got along very well from the get go, if you ignore the fact that this lad tried to slice my throat in the infirmary of Rhalgr's reach after he came to his senses. Good start!This lad's been through a lot and experienced many devastating years in the Garlean captivity. With no more will left to live despite the newfound freedom after his shackles had fallen, Reah tried to end his life nevertheless. I made it my personal quest to show him a different path and to teach him of life's neverending beauty. Spotting his outstanding healing potential and alchemical knowledge, I suggested him to become a medic.Only time will tell, how much this path might change him. But I have firm belief that he will not be led astray."

Wigel Rakko

Wen?... Hmm... Let me think... Dear friend. A beacon of light. A good lad to share the hardships of life with. Listen to his stories, share a drink... Go on to another adventure! Sometimes I cant stand him so much I just wanna punch him, but... I don't even know what I'd do without him.

"Wigel's a good lad! Stubborn, yet kindhearted and noble at heart. He's a fine Lalafell man, the tallest I've seen in fact! A good friend, who won't hesitate helping anyone in need. Wigel has is an attentive listener, although more often than not I find him deep in thought... fighting his own inner demons and doubts.Our ways had crossed upon the Carteneau Flats, as we fought brave and fierce in the Battle of Carteneau at the end of Seventh Umbral Era. It was there and then, that something between us had sparked a friendship, which would prevail even the time spent in the aetherial rift.I am blessed to call him my friend and dear companion! Who knows where to the journeys might take us, the timeworn veterans, hm?"

Aygun Dzemael

There is naught I can tell you about Wenarian that you cannot learn yourself through talking with him. He is loud, sometimes clumsy and lacking in the finer points of etiquette.In spite of these flaws, Wenarian knows well how to live life to the fullest, he is passionate about many things, and has a seemingly endless energy which he gives selflessly to a world that does not deserve him. Suffice it to say, one can and in fact should learn a lot from the one, who travels the world under a disguise of being "just a bard." Other scholars may have been fooled, but I was not. Wenarian is not "just a bard" he is something far greater, a mystery I shall never truly solve.

„This man has played the protagonist role in my personal never ending love story for the longest part of my life, hah! His attention to details, pedantic approach to the intricacy of magic and love for all sorts of dusty tomes and books… made me wish I were one of these books. Getting his attention felt like a task impossible to accomplish."

RAI DRASTRA

Something, something.. ‘a wild fiery cat’!

"Ahh! The fair skin, the golden feline eyes and the mesmerizing beauty of this young lady..! I had twisted and turned my head a good many times passing Rai, as she was seemingly distracted with casual chit chat.Yet whenever our eyes meet, Rai's lips spread in a charming smile. And before I am able to respond with a proper greeting, her hand is already gently tousling my hair. Heh, it is quite adorable to see her stand on her toes, attempting to reach up to me. Or anyone else she is determined to tousle and pat!Her calm voice soothes, calms down and cheers up the most hardened spirits! This lady's positive attitude and incredibly charming personality are contagious! And her commendable determination makes Rai most certainly to a beating heart of any party!"

Ysera Leone

Wenarian? He's.... I guess he isn't.... Fuck! This is hard, I usually just want to punch him. I think that pretty much sums it up!

"A strong woman like Leone, looks a challenge in the eye and gives it a wink. Quite, well-; ahem, literally. To be completely honest, although she does give me chills, I firmly believe she is not as terrifying as many might think. D-don't get me wrong, there is most certainly no fluffy bunny hiding beneath this warrior's fierce face. Although, who am I to judge? I usually dwell upon such thoughts, as I precautiously start running in the opposite direction.Leone is not a woman in need of validation. She believes she can. So she does. In my eyes, that's also something that makes her unique and beautiful. But better not let her hear me say that, heh!Personally, I think Leone's fierce attitude speaks of compassion and the ability to endure. The moments of her sincere reveleations are scarce and scattered, surfacing here and there rather unpredictably. But they are there. Most certainly these reveleations are not inteded for any foreign eyes or ears. But if one knows how to listen to the voice of her actions, the insight granted is quite telling.The world had forged Leone into a skilled warrior; with brute force and scars being a display of her strength. But deep inside, she is a freedom loving soul. Passionate, rational, gentle. One with a story yet to be told and heard by many."

N'oah Vestalia

Wenarian? Oh, he is one of the funniest guys you can meet! Especially, when you take him closer to water... or one of my girlfriends!

"To be fair our first meeting has been quite a peculiar one. Limsa is known to be a place of all and sundry, though rarely did I meet a man who was dressed like an Eastern concubine but drank like a Northern warrior. Ah, good old times!I value our friendship for many reasons and wouldn’t even know where to start. N'oah is a man who does not mistake knowledge for wisdom. I believe that to be the main reason as to why he excells so exceptionally well at being an adept of White Magic. He is a great listener and attentive to details, which would doubtlessly slip by another person’s ear. I had fairly often caught myself being captivated by his ability to lead conversations.What can I say? Hah, his wit is always on spot. And same applies to his sense for fashion!I do not consider myself a fashionable man, alright? But let me tell you, that I’ve seen male and female turn heads more often than not when N’oah walked down the street with unrivaled grace. The joy of dressing is an art in itself and he wields it with exquisite style!"

Varax Shorlei

Wen? Well I'm not convinced he's a Miqo'te. Boundless energy. Does he ever sit down for long? Not that I've seen, but he puts that energy to good use. You couldn't ask for a more reliable friend. Even if he never sits still. Overly caffeinated man:

"It is not always clear what's on this man's mind. He is quiet, reserved and polite, yet not overly social. Though don't let the brooding expression mislead you; quite a passionate soul hides beneath!I have gotten to know Varax as a skilled and compassionate healer. He is, however, allergic to "stupidity" and I can't blame him, hah! He is not a kind of a healer you'd meet at the very front of the battlefield. But he is a great and talented White Mage, continuously aiding the back-rows and all the injured.Our mutual displeasure with Gridania's omnipresent seeming rain, made us bond over a cup of tea in Miounne's tavern, hah!"

Fafnir Araziel

He's the right guy if you want to organize a party, but be very careful not to leave him alone with your boyfriend, haha! In case of problems, keep a jug of water nearby.

"Oh what a beautiful and fair lady, this young Xaela is! Her gorgeous hair is always well kept, the curls are covering the shoulders playfully. The lustrous black scales gleam softly, the graceful movements often make me think of a descendant of royal heritage. Mayhap this is true...? Unfortunately Fafnir claims not to remember anything about her past. And knowing how sensitive this topic can be, I considered not venturing into these waters.I can clearly see why N'oah, whose girlfriend Fafnir is, speaks so passionately about this particular Xaela. I do not doubt his words in the slightest, hah!Fafnir's look is calm, yet can turn cold and become fierce if something doesn't go according to plan. I can clarly see the Dusk Mother Nhaama within her.Her compassion and curiosity makes her an excellent healer. I have gained the pleasure to observe her perform in the role of an Astrologian. Mayhap one day the cards will be able to help her reveal the secrets of her own past..?"

Lucile Mihata

Cat Dad!

"This precious little Lalafell girl is one of the purest gems among the many people I know. She is of a shy nature and would prefer to watch and observe from a back seat, rather than approach people directly. And whilst Lucile can be a tad clumsy and gets easily embarassed at times, she never fails to give her everything to know her friends safe.Lucile's determination and kindness are her most stiking and awe-enkindling features! Her warm and compassionate nature draws people in incredibly easily. This little lady had my attention before she even knew it, haha!We became good friends and traveled a few long roads together. Oh, how gladly do I think back to us braving the dungeons in an adventuring party! It was during these times, that an amusing tradition was born. Lucile tends to call me 'catdad' and for some reason, this nickname stuck with me ever since. So much, in fact, that even other adventurers have started addressing me that way!"

Yuriko Zhalder

Poke poke poke poke poke!

"Persistently claiming to be formed by the "random appearance generator", Yuriko had opened my eyes at the most modern aspects of the youth of the Eorzean society. She made me familiar with the so-called "Handbook of a Cosplayer", a knowledge (according to her passionate speech) bestowed upon the chosen few in this realm.She kept pointing out the utter importance of familiarizing myself with terms such as "Maid Café", "daijoubu” (I hope I did pronounce that correctly!), “baka”, “waifu” and many more. I didn't expect such a language to co-exist with the common tongue, but it seems the youth is always a step ahead, hm?Yuriko calls herself the Eorzea's most famous Tea Delivery Girl and will stop at nothing tosee her mission fulfilled and her customers happy and content!"

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