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[[Mr.] Snuggles]

••••• Illaran

An Advanced Final Fantasy Inspired Story

Between the open wonders of the blue sky above and the steamy hot melding of the core of every existing planet, there is a world called Illaran...

Welcome to Illaran, an Advanced roleplay created by [Mr.] Snuggles and Penguin [Cult!]. It was inspired by the series Final Fantasy, and we hope to have provided a satisfactory installment. So, go ahead and read on, and we apologize in advance for exactly how much there IS to read. We hope you like it. ;D *And please note that very little knowledge of the Final Fantasy games is required to participate in this roleplay.

To the OOC Thread

[[Mr.] Snuggles]

{{ Title Me ;; Ellaesa Xehjtun ---& aka. ‘Lae’
{{ Fingers&Toes ;; 18
{{ Gender ;; Femme
{{ Liking ;; A bendy spoon type
{{ Originate ;; Amne // Amne Plains // Cle Nria
{{ Sweet Home ;; Bezvalen // Cle Nria
{{Race ;; Hume

{{ Build Me UP ;;

◘ Accessories – the magical kind and the everyday kind
◘ Wandering…aimlessly?
◘ The smell of rain
◘ A job well done
◘ Anything sweet
◘ Anything spicy
◘ Cuties? o: Definitely!

{{ Tear Me down ;;

◘ Unnecessary difficulties
◘ Taking things too seriously
◘ Flying
◘ Ghosts // Apparitions
◘ Heavy anything!
◘ Not having time to fix her hair- it doesn’t stay that way naturally, you know
◘ Being told what to do and when to do it

{{ Class ;; Gunner (and add a smidge of gun mage in there)
{{ Magic ;; While by no means a mage(she’s not nearly concentrated or loyal enough to the topic to accomplish it), Lae has a good handle on some magic that any Gunner would be happy to have. Her magic dips into basic blue, time and white of sorts, giving her a well-rounded, if not all too powerful, supply of magic to keep her under control and perfectly happy no matter what kind of situation she’s in. And this girl gets into plenty of sorts of situations.

• Scan lv 2 ;; Allows you to get the deets on opponents
• Haste ;; Speeds up your character
• Cure ;; Heals a little of your character or another’s health
• Enchanted Ammo ;; Deals magical damage to an opponent
• Mech Destroyer ;; Deals quadruple damage to mechs



{{ Techniques ;; Lae, of course, has herself a full pack o’ techniques that are useful in battle- and a handful that could come to use outside of it, to boot. Of course, that’s not what this section is meant for. So, with no further ado, I proceed to my list of fanciful and fun gunner techniques:

• Quarter Pounder ;; With a sneaky little edge, this particular technique cuts an opponents’ magic down by a quarter
• Tableturner ;; Deals damage to an opponent with high defence- the same amount as an opponent without high defence
• Trigger Happy ;; How many times can you shoot in thirty seconds?
• Burst Shot ;; Can you say a critical part of your daily battles? Deals critical damage to an opponent.


{{ Equipment ;; As a gunner, what else would Lae being carrying around other than, well, guns? At this particular moment, she owns three- two handguns that are her default battle weapons, being the easiest to sling out and the most convenient. The only sub-feature that these weapons are enhanced with, however, are stoneproof; because, really, who wants to be turned into a statue by some menacing creature just waiting to eat you? No one, that’s who. But that’s not all; Lae also totes around with her a shotgun- of course, usually it’s taken apart and shoved in her bag. But it’s her ‘special’ weapon- she even named it (“Zephyrus”). It has magic webbing traced into it, and increases magic by an even 30%; and all shots deal some random elemental damage to her opponent. Not to mention it deals more damage per turn by about double. Of course, she’s too lazy to use it more than now and then.

For armor and defence magic, Lae is no stinge; after all, not only do the rings and bangles keep her from being mauled to death on a daily basis, but they look pretty damn awesome to boot. Red Ribbons are the item wrapped so carefully into her rather odder than normal hairstyle, and offer fire resistance; her Mythril gloves offer a 20% defence boost; Gold Anklet causes the auto ability stoneproof and ups defence and magic defence by 5%; and, of course, finally, there’s the little white ring on her finger that lets her add an ice touch to her direct, physical attacks. Of course, these items are all insanely necessary- Lae doesn’t exactly have the toughest skin around.
{{ Clothing ;; To go with her cah-raaazy hair, a girl’s got to have an above average sense of fashion- or at least an above average want for people to look her way. And if nothing else, Lae wants people to look her way- not necessarily continually, and forever, but a glance here and there to notice that she stands out in a crowd is what she's aiming for. And most commonly, that's exactly what she gets.

Let's start at the top, shall we? Tied into Lae's hair, always, are three red ribbons, as has been mentioned previously. Moving down from her hair, to around her neck, she's generally found with an old fashioned ruffle of sorts wrapped messily there; not only is it fashionable, but it's fairly warm, as well. And under that ruffle you can find her pride and joy; the helter skelter, multi-coloured, non-flamable (an added bonus), weirdly patterned shirt that fits her to absolute perfection.

Peaking from beneath the long shirt (it reaches down to about mid-thigh) are a pair of bright red, vinyl-type shorts, equipped with multiple strands of ribbon wrapping their way around them. Beneath the shirt, entwining through the belt loops of her shorts, are two separate belts- one with a fanny pack sort of deal, just smaller. That's where Lae keeps her personal Gil and Items.

Leaving her shins covered only by the thinnest of yellow tights, Lae's feet are shoved daily into a pair of light blue boots; they tie up to mid shin, yellow and red laces for the respective right and left feet. Altogether, Lae's outfit might seem a little out of this world...but they aren't exactly in this world, now, are they?

{{ Tell a Tale ;; Coming tomorrow. ;D
{{ Hold a Mirror ;; You know how when you buy helium balloons, and one balloon stays afloat for a week longer than the rest of them, refusing to give out until the very last second? That balloon is a very good examples of how most people see Ellaesa Xehjtun.

Lae has always had a certain understated charm about her; while, yes, she looks like an overstated person, and potentially even flamboyant, at times, that isn’t always completely accurate. Generally, she finds herself more at home on the sidelines rather than as the center of attention- she enjoys watching as much as she enjoys doing, but, of course, has a voice loud enough to grab attention whenever she wants it. Because while, yes, observing is fun, Lae’s opinion has never once gone unheard; as the second oldest of four children, she learned how to manage both sides of it. Besides, spending most of her days alone doesn’t exactly merit for always having to be noticed; even if her hair manages that for her as it is.

If nothing else, Lae has always had a stand up idea of exactly what she wants. Never of the big picture – that’s too much to think about for a smalltown girl- but of what she wants in the moment. She can make a decision and stick to it, a sense of being stubborn always right behind her; changing the girl’s mind has never been an easy feat. Between siblings and customers, Lae’s developed a my-way-or-the-highway kind of attitude. And yes, while this might seem occasionally problematic, it’s worked for her thus far; even if the only people that that she listens to are the people that have managed to gain her respect.

And that respect is hard to earn; her respect, but not her admiration. Quite frankly, Lae likes people more easily than the average bear. She tends to judge first, and figure out a person second; but she’s never really stayed anywhere long enough to care to get them down to the core. While she’s an easy person to like, and likes people just as easily, her traveling tendencies make it hard to keep relationships going strong. And unless she has a particularly strong connection to someone, she doesn’t bother putting her effort into it.

Since she spends most of her time by herself and on the road (with the exception of the peole and creatures she befriends along the way), Lae has never had a problem with being alone. She’s crafted her personality around being able to handle being by herself for long periods of time, and for being able to keep her tireless (and rather intelligent) mind occupied for just as long a time. She’s good with coming up with distractions- both for herself and for other people.

What can I say? The girl has a tendency to get intro scrapes.
Distractions come in handy; and can get her an extra handful of Gil.

Lae’s a free spirit, floating along to her own little beat.
And she won’t come down for a while.

{{ Political Standpoint ;; As it’s been mentioned, Lae was a little young at the time to have really developed any serious opinion one way or the other- she was, quite honestly, a child at the time that Thralla’s voice whispered a warning to her ear. The only reason she even remembers the day is probably because, day to day, someone has to bring it up at some point. Politics hold no deep mystery, no interest for the girl; she would much prefer to concentrate on her own, free life, and leave the bickering and squabbling of over-important twaddlers to themselves. But, of course, when cut comes to chase, she’d insist, in the words of those closest to her: Oedeffes? More like Oafeffes. If you ask me, the guy’s full of hot air- get it? Hot air? Sky cities?

{{ Username ;; [Mr.] Snuggles

[[Mr.] Snuggles]

{{ Title Me ;; Terran D’Allmane
{{ Fingers&Toes ;; SevenTEEN [ 17 ]
{{ Gender ;; Heman//womanhater
{{ Liking ;; I like GIRLS.
{{ Originate ;; Jhall -- Kjorla Mountain Range
{{ Sweet Home ;; Aerth -- North Sky Port
{{ Race ;; Hume // anoid

{{ Build Me UP ;;
○ Falling snow
○ Warm drinks
○ Slow smiles
○ Logical explanations
○ Fun clothes
○ Whispers
○ The great outdoors

{{ Tear Me down ;;
○ Harsh voices
○ Wake up calls
○ Cold feet
○ Humidity
○ Helplessness

{{ Class ;; Lancer
{{ Magic ;;
○ Cure {White}
○ Protect {White}
○ Haste {White}
○ Reflect {White}
○ Water { Black }
{{ Techniques ;;
○ Libra
○ Lancet
{{ Equipment ;; When one loves to travel to the extent that Terran does, there really comes no surprise to his being well-- if lightly-- equipped.

Of course, the first and one of the most important pieces of equipment needed by any would-be traveler would be some sort of armor, with which Terran comes fully equipped. A light, woven, metal shirt lies close to Terran’s fair skin, a second layer to his cotton shirt, which despite being very thin is more than capable of keeping its owner from much need of healing. While being well-loved and passed down to Terran from his father, the armor has seen and withstood many scuffles, protecting the one wearing it and providing the freedom of movement Terran desperately needs to defend himself from any attacks that might be, well, too much for the simple woven shirt.

Strapped to Terran’s shoulder is a simple White Armguard, which while not only being a useful defense is also imbued with the ability of protecting him against ice—which while some might not understand, Terran is very wary of warding against having grown up in cold climates. Frostbite is never nice.

On the index finger of his right hand Terran wears a brilliant silver ring, presented to him by his mother before his leaving home, a ring that encases the wearer in a protect spell when critically injured. While hoping for things never to come to that, Terran never takes his mother’s gift off, the easy weight of it on his finger giving him some reassurance when things get rough.

Terran’s last accessory consists of a simple black leather belt that, while not exactly a fashion statement protects him from becoming disabled. This being one of Terran’s biggest fears, the item is vastly important to him and far more useful than just holding his pants up.

The only remaining equipment in Terran’s possession would be his fine weapon. Crafted from stout wood found in the mountains of his birth, Terran’s lance is constructed primarily of a light white-blue staff. This shaft is carved along its length with curvy symbols that are almost vine-like in quality, but simply calming designs gouged from its length in the hope that a weapon could be beautiful as well as deadly. The deadly part comes at the end of the five and a half foot stick, a foot and a half of cold razor-sharp steel capping the lance in a sharp yet curved design like a flickering flame. The lance does in fact live up to its design, beautiful and deadly, calming and at once arresting.

{{ Clothing ;; While not exactly having much time to worry about being properly dressed on the move, Terran is proud of his simple and effective way of dressing in a manner both practical and at the same time to his tastes. The most important thing about Terran’s choice of clothing would be his penchant for layering. While having very few colours in his wardrobe besides various shades of blues, Terran manages to make his clothing interesting by layering them so complexly that it can still draw the eye, colour or not.

Terran’s upper half consists of a complicated affair. The bottom layer consists of a simple, white, wool shirt meant to keep him warm, as well as to keep the next layer of woven metal from chaffing and bothering his fair skin. On top of these two he wears a warmer, light blue, long-sleeved shirt, which while made from thicker and more comfortable material was designed riddled with holes, thus making it not the best outer layer. To this purpose Terran wears another long-sleeved shirt, this one buttoning up and giving him a more formal appearance when buttoned and a casual appearance when left open. Over this he wears yet another layer, this being his most peculiar article of clothing. A navy sleeveless vest enwraps his upper torso, covering his shoulder blades in the back and then wrapping around to his front where only a thin strip of puffy material wraps his arms, seeming only to keep the vest up rather than offer any warmth in the front. It then wraps around his neck and clips under his chin, making an effective scarf. The last portion of the vest is three dark clips at the back that merge into one strap and travels down the length of his spin to be clipped to his pants.

The bottom half of his attire is entirely more practical. Terran wears simple shimmering dark pants that are snug in the leg, and gathering slightly at his shins where they’re tucked into warm, white, narrow-toed boots. His black belt is looped at an angle about his waist, protection from not only immobility but his being worried about the tight quality to his pants and its tendency to cause them to ride lower on his hips than he would like. Attached from his belt is the final clip from his vest, as well as being adorned with small silver charms that chime lightly when he walks.

Terran’s only additives to this outfit come in the form of a black hat with a wide brim topped with a gaudy white feather, and a crisp dark blue jacket that he occasionally pulls out of his pack for fancier occasions. Where on the road he would find a fancy occasion he has no idea, but his mother always taught him to come prepared, and he wouldn’t do her the dishonor of being caught off guard when it’s a perfectly good excuse to buy new clothes.

{{ Tell a Tale ;; Terran grew up in the wild and ever-changing landscape known as the Kjorla mountains. Born into a small tribe—rather more of a clan, actually—of nomads, Terran was raised in a manner very different to that of any city dweller.

From the instance of his birth a sense of purpose, chivalry, and religion was engrained in Terran, the peculiar views and morals of his mountain family raising him to be a very peculiar young man. In the mountains of Kjorla, Terran was constantly encompassed and included in a very devote and solid religious community, this religion being one of community in turn. Every member of his tribe was his family, every one of their burdens was his to share, and every singular person felt the exact same way. In such a harsh landscape one failure could very easily mean the death of them all, and so every one was fully responsible for themselves and others. Every person functioned to a greater purpose, following not only the collective needs of such a tight-knit group, but relying and believing very strongly in the spirits of the human mind.

From his birth Terran was treated like an adult, and not a child. He was held responsible for his every action, he was trusted with tasks that any other child would not have had the opportunity to face, and he was molded to be a fully functioning, if playful adult from a very young age. He spent his early youth learning of life on the mountains, practical things like setting traps, tracking, finding fresh water, predicting the weather and seasons, and other things essential to life in the cold climate. Other than this however, he was taught also to rely strongly on his own personal judgment in all areas of his life and to explore his own thoughts and feelings.

By the time his sixteenth birthday had come around he was more than prepared for the traditional escapade that was the coming of age tradition of his clan. Being prepared was all together than being ready, however. Between the sight of his entire clan gathered around a bonfire the night before he left, his mother’s tears when he left the house the next morning, and the capacious internal warning they’d all received from Thralla, Terran had been more than a little apprehensive about the journey to find his inner spirit. So many things could go wrong. What if he couldn’t find it? Or worse, what if he didn’t like what he found? His father’s proud smile, however, was all Terran needed to assure him that going on the two year pilgrimage would be good for him.

The next year was spent putting to practice all the things he’d been taught in context of the real world outside his known realm and coming to terms with the world itself. A difficult thing for someone so sheltered from the harshness of city life. It wasn’t until he finally came to reside in Aerth that Terran became accustomed to the cold unfeeling nature of people outside his home. And then, well, something all together unexpected happened.

He was kidnapped.
Somehow, that didn’t seem like it was going to help him find his mind’s spirit.

Then again, who knew what the spirits had in store?

{{ Hold a Mirror ;; Terran D’Allmane is the most peculiar of young men. He isn’t peculiar in that he’s visibly strange, awkward, or different, rather his peculiarity resides in the fact that never once has Terran been a child. From a young age Terran was taught to think for himself, rely on his own strengths, and never waver in his faith in what he believes in. To put it simply, Terran is mature. Most of his maturity comes from the fact that Terran is a very deep thinker.

Terran’s best quality would be his careful analysis of everything around him. Now, on its own over-thinking thing would be more of a downfall than a strength. Terran’s careful thought however, isn’t the detached thinking of the average person, but rather Terran has a way of thinking and absorbing whole situations with his mind and his heart. Terran has a way of thinking logically with his feelings that few can master, making his quiet consideration like its own kind of magic. He has a way of drinking in details and making a whole picture that makes him not only a brilliant tactician, but an asset to any chaotic situation.

Being a deep thinker, Terran has a penchant for enjoying silence. This is something that doesn’t necessarily leave him beloved by many people. Not being outspoken or loud leads people to believe that either Terran considers himself above them, or simple a shy seventeen year old not worth the time of getting to know. Also, Terran’s careful way of speaking when he does sometimes leads people to believe that he’s slow, another mistake often revisited. This would be why, in point of fact, Terran doesn’t know many people outside of his own clan. Were someone to actually spend any extended period of time with the young man, more often than not they would find a most worthwhile and fast friend. Besides being very friendly in and of himself, Terran is the unique employer of a quiet yet exuberant sense of humor and a slow sweet smile that can be quite arresting.

Outside of his quiet thoughtful exterior Terran is a quirky youth, employing his sensitive loving nature freely. He’s deeply connected with the great out of doors, spending most of his spare moments outside employing the teachings of his youth and just enjoying the splendor of something that can’t be manufactured. Despite being simple in his needs and wants however, Terran is uncharacteristically obsessed with clothing. Not particularly caring about fashion in and of itself, Terran is still very attached to acquiring new articles of clothing, his materialistic nature sometimes getting the best of him and leaving him not only penniless but quite weighed down.

Despite his playful heart and curious mind however, Terran is still apart from others in his strong religious beliefs and his strong sense of the nature of people. Often apart from society, Terran prefers to be a wanderer and a bit of a loner to abandoning his values for what seem like the hedonistic beliefs of others.

It’s difficult to get close to others when you’re looking for yourself.
But if anything that only means Terran will fight harder for it.

{{ Political Standpoint ;; Terran’s whole life he’s been cut off from the political world. Living on a secluded little patch of mountain, Terran and his clan never had much use for political confrontations, nor technology. Despite this, Terran’s just over a year in the cities and Aerth have led him to be muddled in the political struggles of the rest of the world. Where he wasn’t ever aligned with Thralla, and where technology on the scale that it is in the sky ports still awes Terran, the fear of something as massive and overpowering to human nature as the current technology frightens him. Being used to relying only on his own strength and the strength of people around him, things that so obviously function outside of living law keep Terran respectfully at a distance.

And the man in charge of such things could surely not be doing them for the benefit of his alleged people.

{{ Username ;; Penguin [Cult!]

[[Mr.] Snuggles]

{{ Title Me ;; Thiudoricus Euric Adalfuns Raginmar Sandulf De Morte XI
{{ Fingers&Toes ;; Not but Twenty and Three
{{ Gender ;; I love breast, but mine are flat and muscular; Male
{{ Liking ;; I’m a Womanizer, but My lips hate to discriminate
{{ Originate ;; No Man’s Land; Orrah Vya Desert
{{ Sweet Home ;; In the Middle of the Sea is a Place For Me; Rastrebin
{{ Celebrate! ;; On October 31st, Diamonds were no longer a girl’s best friend.
{{ Race ;; Esztra

{{ Build Me UP ;; Women in the Morning, Women in the Evening, Women at Supper Time.
♥♱♥
Real Men like Flowers, and he’s a Real Man.
♥♱♥
Ample Bosoms a Day keeps the Man Blues Away
♥♱♥
Rainy Days mean Sexy Nights
♥♱♥
Things that begin with Vs, excluding Vieras.
♥♱♥
Fornication and Sex sound so different, let’s try them both to compare.
♥♱♥
Sweets are like Assorted Orgasms.
♥♱♥
Tricks aren’t just for Kids.
♥♱♥
There’s Nothing like a Home Cooked Meal. Or a Meal in General.
♥♱♥
Capital Letters Make His Heart Flutter.
♥♱♥
{{ Tear Me down ;; As Beautifully sculpted as they are, and As Much as it Pains him to say, Vieras.
✽♰✽
We weren’t born with Wings, so His Feet Stay on the Ground.
✽♰✽
If Tears Run, It Breaks His Heart.
✽♰✽
Mispronunciation is like an Irritated Cavity.
✽♰✽
Unless it’s from his own God Traits or those of another, spare him the Heat and the Unnecessary Sweat.
✽♰✽
Dramadies are loved, the Overly Dramatic are not.
✽♰✽
He wants Your Bod, but Not your Bad Breath.
✽♰✽
Squeaky Clean S’Not His Style, He likes it Filthy, Stinking Raw.
✽♰✽
Though It Never Applies, No one Wants to feel Lonely Inside.
✽♰✽
Born both Wild and Free. Never. Ever. Try to Tame Eury.
✽♰✽

{{ Class ;; Summoner
{{ Magic ;; Believe it or Not, Eury is not into the nitty gritty of magic, though he puts up with the few points of it to help out others that shroud him. He feels keener on physical attributes and techniques, trying to break the norm of the strong magically and weak everywhere else mode that Summoners normally posses. Of course, it seems to be a bit contradictory due to the fact that Eury has an unusual amount of Strae circulating throughout his body in restless engagement. He has quite the potential to become a magic force to be reckoned with, but he instead chooses to deny what may become inevitable over time.

☼H a s t eEveryone likes speed, so why not let him help you help the group by playing a little ants in the pants routine?
☼S t o p
Just in case he feels the need to whisper sweet nothings into that fair damsel in distress’s tender earlobe, he can’t very well do such without knowing that his opponent is still moving and grooving.
☼B l i n d
Perhaps a getaway is necessary, what the enemy cannot see cannot be hindered.
☼H o l y
Surely, one cannot expect such a man such a Eury to use a White Spell? There’s no way in hell he’d let his mind even hover over such a thought, but he has been blessed with the magic from his clan.
{{ Techniques ;; ☾E m p a t h y
Such a situation to be in, it would be more of a Godsend if he were able to diligently control such a vast thing. Though sometimes it can become pleasing in his favor, he still may have to deal with the dirty thoughts of the token gay guy lingering around his person. Matter of fact, even the beautiful epitomes of seduction can lead his mind notably astray, for they are also filled with such a ferocious viciousness that can give him the most unstable nightmares known to man. He cannot control when his Empathy goes spiraling and violating, so it’s pretty much in a given whim, and more or less with every good sense of lust and love comes one of betrayal and deception. Believe me; it hurts him more to ravish your mentality than it would you to know he’s unwillingly doing such.
☾S u m m o n i n g
Of course it’s more than just Eury parading about in the most jaw dropping, somewhat suggestive poses and tantalizing the poor fools that happen to be around him with his deep, seductive voice spitting out the most stylish prayers every made up. He’s actually bringing forth the reasons why he doesn’t find it bothersome to have a million spells down packed on his person.
☾S e n d i n g
He is a Summoner first and foremost before anything, and despite the fact he refuses to deal with magic, especially White, he is still endowed with blessings and holiness to an extend. They are not currently in a time of war, which only makes things a bit stickier than one would think, but still the fallen need guidance to the Strae above all else and he truly cannot refuse such. Or rather, he could, but it tugs at his heart for a soul to dwindle an eternity of excommunication and loneliness.
☾E m b o d i m e n t
Beneath the friendly, outgoing expressions and the beautiful clothes that drape his body lays a stark naked corpse composed of Strae. Not just such alone mind you, for flesh and blood and all the details of such are needed for him to exist, yet his essence has been overwhelmed by the immense and garishly ample amount of Strae that has been lurking in his person for countless years. The Strae has become a tad aggravated, having been ignored and disregarded in such a degrading aspect that it hadn’t a choice but to counter. His legacy is superior to his own perspective, for he has a destiny to fulfill much like those before him, yet in his refusal to acknowledge such a well worn path, he has instead become a monstrosity of the very thing he was to use so freely at his disposal.

Point blank, Eury is losing his physical and mental individuality to the very means of life on Illaran, and truly cannot hope to do a thing about it. He can harness the Strae, due to his lack of actual magics, to do small biddings in exchange for a price that he is already paying as it is. It has become like his own personal source, but not one that can be abused and solely used at all times, but one that he really hasn’t a choice but to rely on when the need arises. Still, being stubborn and determined too much so for his own, the likeliness of him catering to the will of the Strae is a fruitless as him giving in to the fact that he is destined to live the endlessly recurring cycle of those before him.

And that, to Eury, is actually a fate much worse than a merciless, agonizing Death itself.
{{ Equipment ;; It just seems to be a universal fact that Summoners normally are not seen with actual weapons, but instead their respective staffs and the like used to Summon Espers.

Well, Eury finds that he would be absolutely useless if he were without an actual weapon that could not only fend himself, but also those in his party. He isn’t into the idea of only being able to summon and then sit back and either be attacked or protected by the likes of others. He happens to keep two spears on his person, one of the two resting on each side of his hips and trapped by leather holders. He managed to keep them both around the same height and weight as to not have more weight burdening one particular side, but it’s certainly not to say that they aren’t equally heavy in their own right. Still, as having done so countless years before the present, he has grown accustom to wielding the Moon {Storm Spear} and the Sun {Dragon Whisker}.

Ah yes, the Armor, apparently not much of a Summoner’s best friend. One would never suspect the trendy Eury to actually be wearing some appalling armor, but then again, that just proves how little they know of the twenty year old. Beneath the gorgeousness of his robes are practically full pieces of armor that can be adjusted in weight by the belts that fasten them. Unusual, surely he knows such, but he has had his garb customized simply for the fact. He can strengthen both his endurance and his physical means by wearing stylish, unsuspecting clothing that weighs with gravity every step he takes. It keeps him from harm in its own right also, but it happens to be his robes that make his more resilient to the likes of elements, but that’s a secret.

It should be noted, that upon his right middle finger is a Ruby Ring, which often places Reflect upon his person, and Ring of Renewal which raises both his magical resistance and defense.
{{ Clothing ;; Considering the fact that he gets hot extremely easy, it’s simple to assume that the man would not be caught in layer upon layer of garb, or something that didn’t detail his body correctly. He isn’t quite against the more eloquent and elaborate outfits that could be worn, but upon such an adventure, he feels that sometimes fashion friendly ways may only be bound so far. It can also be said that perhaps his two toned theme of clothing can very well represent an important attribute otherwise hidden by his easy going, and somewhat exasperatingly blatant person.

Or it could just be some silly myth, considering it isn’t unheard of for the twenty year old to be gossiped about.

Smoothed over his broad shoulders is normally the soft touch of a one-of-a-kind, hand woven robe that loosely shields the jewels between his meaty, yet firm thighs and barely covers his toned abdomen at all. He happens to be a fan of such, almost always being spotted with one of his three robes draped upon his body. Each robe has a separate and exotic color scheme and embroidery that is not to be repeated by the likes anything ever created, and beautifully crafted swinging sleeves that parry the likeness of a furisode, though that is about where their similarities stretch. His favorite happens to have a dramatic tail line with a striking collar of beautiful silk that flutters like that of a blooming petal from the side of his lower jaw and draws past his nape into lavish angel wings that curl ever so lightly with every designated feather’s tips. Its’ base had been bred into a pure white, much like virgin, unhampered snow falling, and has been enchanted with the gentle likes of the loneliest blues and heartbreaking grays every thought to man lightly weeping upon it’s brows. To keep the lower layers closed, there is always a delicate belt to secure it, the favored being one of pure platinum that has the seven deadly sins etched into links with a representative stone and symbol to convey it.

Beneath the robe is a second skin to him, not quite finding much of a need to alternate such unless it finds it better off to travel bare-breasted. Clinging to every ripple and curve is a form fitting turtleneck that happens to be without sleeves, instead being alternated with gloves. His turtleneck is the color of ivory and though it carries substantially to the mid of his abdomen, there happens to be a melted emblem directly centered on his abdomen, connecting a thin belt of leather around it until another thin belt slithers down his sides to connect his dangerously low pants.

Upon his lower body are fitting pants, ones that haven’t ever actually been seen since the youth was a child. It makes you wonder whether or not he’s really wearing anything beneath the robes, which could possibly be a good thing for those that seek thrills. His knee caps have been replaced by the solid emblem of his family’s tri symbolic crest, and connect to the same material as his turtleneck for unusual legwarmers. He doesn’t care much for the likes of shoes, only wearing a pair for overwhelmed boots when the time arises. Otherwise, the male simply has the mid of his foot bandaged and goes from there on.

As far as quirks may be concerned, Eury tends to find them as appealing as a woman. He is a fan of belts and buckles, a trait which can be seen easily due to them being on nearly every portion of his outfit save for his awe inspiring robes. Melted into the neck of his turtleneck happens to be a large belt with one of his emblems upon its buckle. That’s actually how Eury is capable of keeping on his garb, by hooking them into their designated buckles and fastening them to his heart’s content. Let it be known that besides belts, he also loves his share of gloves and seems to have a rather vast and rare collection of them in every color, style, and match under the sun. If he’s not changing his robes, he is most definitely changing his gloves, and there’s not a dame in the world that would stop that from happening.

At the current time on his right side he sports a glove that’s merely fingerless save for his middle finger, and the material that matches his turtleneck extends to his forearm with a belt fitted to keep it a float. His left side simply sports a middle fingerless glove of a silk feel to the bare tips of his wrist. They are both a respectable decoration for his robe, so there are significant details of white, blue, and gray threaded upon them.


{{ Tell a Tale ;; Let’s be honest, Orrah Vya Desert is certainly not a place where one would normally try to trek through unless it was absolutely necessary to do so. Who in their right mind would want to live in such a remotely desolated area that was an endless field of sand?!

Those had been the thoughts of a young Summoner as he treaded through the likes of the grains of wheat. It was not at all his fancy to be stuck in the presence of a grumpy Viera woman, a token gay Elvaan, a schizophrenic Hume that also claimed to be a Nu Mou and a Moogle, and a Mithra that seemed to have murderous intent for Summoners and Esztras alike. Things were certainly not in his favor, especially when he was stuck in the middle of absolutely no where in the heat because that damn Viera crashed his ship due to an unexplainable tiff that started with him not paying her normal bitching any mind. He had been wearier of his dysfunctional traveling party –which he still had absolutely no idea how such was organized in the first place- than any threats that opposed his journey. Still, it couldn’t possibly get any worse now that he had nearly everyone in his group hate him, save for the Elvaan whom he personally wished would in turn hate him and that crazy Hume which he simply put up with because he really hadn’t much of a choice but to, and was now stuck in the middle of nowhere surrounded by miles of absolute nothing, right?

As sad as it was to say, he was quite wrong.

Seeming to have appeared from the sky, his future wife would interrupt his sinking voyage and change his life forever.

No really, she did appear from the sky, landed right on top of him too.

Poor thing.

Sitting on top of what use to be the Great Teodulo Eduardo Aureliano Rodolfo de Morte X was the vision of impeccable loveliness, Narkissa McVeldo. Despite the impact of the woman’s tremendous weight, he was awe struck by her beauty –well, until she opened that mouth of hers that is. Then she simply became an obnoxious, overly confident woman that pretty much broke his back and the fragile nerves that he had on reserve for the rest of his long, strenuous journey as a summoner. To spare you the details of the long winded story, it was not at all love at first sight for either, for Teodulo couldn’t tolerate Narkissa’s flirty, flighty ways, and she found his seriousness and maturity suffocating and overbearing. Still, opposites attract, especially under circumstances such as an important adventure.

So, in the end, the woman known as Narkissa McVeldo joined the party and enchanted all but the Summoner, who would come in due time, and the Viera, who just found her another nuisance. Their journey together was full of trials and tribulations, mostly caused by the woman’s overly friendly nature and the need to hit on anything that had a pulse, but slowly they began to develop a bond that did not become apparent until they were actually ending their journey. The two had gradually fallen in love with one another, a thing that not even they suspected, but they simply decided to act upon it. They consummated their love, an act which put the traveling to end due to various reasons, and decided to grow their family in the desert in which they had met.

Well, you’ve been given enough back story, now’s time to get down to the most important part; the creation of the modern gift to women!

Thiudoricus Euric Adalfuns Raginmar Sandulf De Morte XI was born in the middle of a sandstorm on October 31st, to the likes of a Summoner from a notorious legacy and a Hume that simply happened to be sky diving from who knows where. He was beautiful, even as a fetus in the womb at its first stage, and soon would be bred to become a well polished young man like his father. Well, during his toddler years, it seemed rather apparent that the youth wasn’t fond of having the taste of that disgusting sand in his mouth whenever he stepped outside, but he was always at the side of his mother’s whenever she stepped out. Call him a mother’s boy, if you would, for that was exactly what he was when he was still tender.

His father was a well sought man, something that the child paid no mind to due to his father making it extremely important to still attend to his son. Growing up with such a legacy made it a tad hard for the youth, for the expectations of his future were highlighted and bolded before he could actually walk and blink at the same time. He was destined to become the next in line for a clan that was highly respected since what seemed to him as the very birth of existence. It didn’t help that, even as a toddler, he found the opposite sex attractive in a sort of light, and that it merely got worse over time. During the times where he was to be studying the arts of diplomacy, he was subsided by the beauty of travelers that rarely wandered through his homeland.

So, the technicality of it all, though Eury possessed a strikingly unnerving resemblance to his paternal figure, it was his maternal figure that he took after in personality.

To say that his father was extremely unhappy while his other was ecstatic would be unfairly an understatement. Still, through the years, Eury would happily fulfill the desires of both parents with ease, save for the issue of settling down. Surprisingly, his father seemed more cornered with telling the boy to make a goal of falling in love with someone, and standing at their sides even through fatality, while his mother was simply overprotective and loathed the idea of her little boy getting caught up in the clutches of some harlot. But could you blame her?

He’d was capable of attracting even planets, thus why the universe remains in gravitational forces!

The times wore on, and the happenings around Eury seemed to fly over his head. He hadn’t much of a care for Politics, especially because it did not directly affect his person. Of course, he had come to live upon an island surrounded by the most calming waters he had every seen, and it made others wonder as to why the heir of such a prestigious legacy would be in their measly mists instead of taking reign like those before him or even in the likes of the Sky Cities that had become the new rage.

Well, that my dears, will simply have to be unveiled in the due time of travels.

Cheers.
{{ Hold a Mirror ;; Eury is a man that’s rather easy to get a long with, well, if you’re not some super hawt woman that happens to be sashaying past him in something provocative.

Or some shy, gorgeous young thing that may be stumbling about with something perhaps not so flattering on the figure he’s very sure you have.

Or some stuck up Viera that- Well, maybe not any Vieras. Eury can’t stand them and their superior attitudes. Walking around all snooty with their round derrières hanging out, and their bosoms about to pop, and their barely there clothing that fits their subtle curves to die for- Okay, maybe he doesn’t quite hate the Vieras, they’re hot as hell!

Cut him some slack, it’s hard to discriminate against a population know for their scanty clothing and ample curves.

Anyway, moving past all of such, one can find Eury to be a very easygoing person, if not somewhat distracted by the bodies around him. He’s comfortable about himself, so much so that he can easily maneuver himself out of both physical and mental situations, a feat that, though it sounds incredibly easy, only few people can actually achieve. He hasn’t any secrets that could come back to haunt him, nor does he have any ghosts overwhelming his shadow whenever he breathes. Point blank, if one is looking for some sort of blackmail device, unless being a vast lover of the fairer sex happens to be something horribly dank and dark, they’ve pretty much met their match.

Blatant to an extent, Eury is one of the people that will give you the hard knocks of the truth and leave it at that. He’ll dissect the situation up, stating the given, then the consequences, and finally the positives. Of course, being a tad bit too lenient upon having no problems telling the truth, he can sometimes underestimate the importance of an event. Oh, just say for instance a large woman happens to ask him if some new dress makes her look fat, not at all finding a problem, he’d simply say no, everything happens to look fat on her because she just happens to be fat and that’s that. Not as smooth as one would expect, but at the time he didn’t find any reason to sugarcoat his words.

Of course, once he gets the holy hell slapped out of him, he’ll be a tad confused.

You see, at times he happens to unknowingly let the truth slip out, and really doesn’t notice that he’s said anything until people react to it. A trait that is more of a burden than anything, especially when in the presence of a beautiful Viera, but still one that he happens to appreciate nonetheless. Having such a driven determination to stay truthful has kept his tongue from spilling any fabrications whatsoever, making him a minority in the world of corruptness. That’s not to say he’s not sly, for though he can’t actually lie, he can easily withhold the whole truth if he puts his mind to it or gradually lean into changing the subject all together. And just for reference, if he states something that he hasn’t physical proof of and in turn -after giving his humble opinion- finds out it’s incorrect, his person is to be held neither responsible nor accountable. His honesty happens to be one of his underlying values, a trait that, though can become a nuisance when it’s not desired, is still admirable on its own.

Liar? Not at all as unreal as it seems.

Sly Son Of A b***h? Yes, Please, and Thank You.

That brings us to the next section of the beautiful mind of the lady lover; Courage. Now, as a male Summoner, Eury is expected to be not only stronger than the women in his class, but also than both genders of other classes. Certainly, Eury is courageous in his own right, for it damn well takes courage to look so damn good while in the mists of women twenty-four seven, but he still too has his moments. Always suppose to be the one looked upon with fine, sharp eyes in the face of danger and unfavorable situations, Eury will step to the plate and complete whatever needs to be done without hesitation. Of course, what isn’t seen or heard is the sweat upon his brow and the loud, rapid pacing of his heart in his chest.

Eury is not a coward, let it known to anyone that may question such with their doubts, but he is also not immortal. As reckless as he may come off as, he’ll never drag the likes of his companions into his schemes unless it doesn’t present any mental or physical threat, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the aching loneliness creep up as he faces the unknown by himself. Eurly is afraid in his own right, but he doesn’t show it on the exterior for it would do no good for those that look to him for guidance and reassurance or himself. And no, despite his caring attitude, his ego and vanity would never allow him to show such insecurity in the public light.

What the hell would those buxom babes think if they saw him cry- Wait! That’s actually not a bad idea, chicks dig the wimp at times too, don’t they?

Ah, yes, The Schemer of schemers of old and yet to come.

Almost had you fooled with the first attributes didn’t I?

“Eury is soft and vulnerable, with such knightly traits! Oooooooh Eury baby, take me nooowwwww!”

Yes, the womanizer within him is the perfect villain to any traveling party on a mission to save, oh what was it, the world?

Yeah, something like that.

Anyway, Eury loves the sight, touch, smell, feel, taste, and sound of any woman ever created, whether way past death to still being though of. Sure, touch and feel are synonyms of one another, but it was emphasized to make sure the point was clear. He has a problem with keeping his hands to himself, whether they’re simply stealing the hands of an innocent but certainly cute bystander, or violating the personal space of a sultry companion. He’s clearly interested in the opposite gender, especially if they happen to be near naked or nude, but knows when enough is enough. Okay, it actually depends on the type of woman you are, see some women like to play hard to get and-

Ahem.

Yes, well, he loves his women, which is very painfully clear to anyone willing to listen to his long winded declaration of love. He couldn’t dream of not having at least one woman beside him, and even will vie for sleeping outside of the bedroom door just to make sure he remains close. He has an unusual habit of being able to tell when a woman is close even at a meager –in opinion of course- five thousand miles away, what race she is of, her body type, her class, her personal scent- you get the picture. Much like Spiderman, his Eury senses began to tingle, and once that happens, he’s prone to disappearing into thin air. It shouldn’t be surprising that he’s suddenly at the side of the damsel that he had caught wind of prior to their meeting and is trying to woo her.

Women happen to be his personal addiction, an epidemic that he never wants to be cured of, which can often lead to a few schemes. Along with his declaration of eternal love comes an ode of protection, which normally becomes some sort of side quest that takes away the major intentions at hand. He simply cannot resist a pretty face, or the whole idea of a distressed vixen in need to some heroics. Or both, which is often the case, but it doesn’t bother him in the least.

Eury’s becoming quite famous for his tom foolery, finding that his childish humor is something that his predecessors extremely lacked. He cannot help but engage in acts of teasing, taunting, and harmlessly exploiting his peers in the name of entertainment. From awkward, inappropriate questions to pranks that may range from childishly simple to extremely complex, Eury is a man of tasteful humor. He would never attempt to intentionally upset another for his entertainment, and if he did happen to do such, his sometimes overlooked empathy will kick into effect. He’d become like a puppy that had upset its’ master, apologetic as he pitifully followed the other around until forgiven.

Yes, it works every time.
{{ Political Standpoint ;; Well not quite a fan of ***** or cities that hover in the sky, Eury actually is standing for his self. He really couldn’t give a hot skip and a damn about the politics, but because Thralla is a girltasm, he’d probably be keener on following after her. Like you didn’t see that one coming.


{{ Theme Song ;; Finding Out True Love Is Blind- Louis XIV &&& The Ding Dong Song- Gunther and the Sunshine Girls
{{ Username ;; Leave_Me_Grace.

[[Mr.] Snuggles]

{{ Title Me ;; Nelliyth Hysver, but Nell's less of a mouthful, don't you think?
{{ Fingers&Toes ;; Eight—wait, wait! That can't be right. I keep forgetting I'm nineteen now.
{{ Gender ;; One who knows the joy of ovulation? Why, yes, that would be me!
{{ Liking ;; I— That is— What a forward question!
{{ Originate ;; The outskirts of Florette, near the Ven Sea.
{{ Sweet Home ;; The half-streets and alleyways of Bezvalen.
{{ Celebrate! ;; Quite kind of you to ask! It's the last day of the first month.
{{ Race ;; Hume.

{{ Build Me UP ;;

Innovation and new things in general. I'm going to patent a thrill-inducing perfume with that brand-new scent someday.
Construction and reconstruction. I can spend many a happy hour taking things apart and piecing them together again.
Machine parts. Toying around with them is worth the scars, I say!
Expanding my knowledgebase. Oh, what I wouldn't give to know absolutely everything.
Exploration. Places, communities, ideas—vast is the world!
Challenges. I like that electric sparking of my interest and the smug feeling of accomplishment after I snuff it out.

{{ Tear Me down ;;

Public displays of grief. I can't stand snivelling. It's absolutely criminal!
Dead-end mysteries. I can hardly imagine anything more frustrating.
People who can't keep up or grasp things quickly. I'd hate for this to apply to myself, but there will be no forgiveness if it does.
Being kept in the dark. Honesty really is the best policy—when it comes to other people, anyway.
Stiff upperlips. I like to turn my nose up at them.
Cold, wet days. The atmosphere becomes too dreary and oppressing.







{{ Class ;; Thief.

{{ Magic ;; This is rather embarrassing to admit, but I—I struggle with magic. Yes, I can see how it's somewhat understandable considering my class, but it still annoys me to no end. I once persuaded a traveling White Mage to extend a teaching hand, only to find that I couldn't even master Vigor properly after practicing for weeks on end! It's a weak spell that restores a bit of my health and admittedly handy when I cast it successfully, but it's very much a hit or miss half of the time, even now. As for speed, I'm afraid I have to rely on my boots for Haste, but I will master it myself someday, believe you me. Shame can prove quite the propelling force.

{{ Techniques ;; I've learned how to be fairly neat-fingered because it's necessary if I want to steal liberate your pockets and purses of gil. When I attack am forced to move my hand, I do so with a sneak or trick attack in an underhanded way so as not to make a mess of things; I like to think that thieves can be courteous sometimes. Thank goodness for my perfect dodge agility when others lack manners, though. Were my body less flexible and reflexes less swift, I doubt I'd be able to boast of having life at all, much less a few paltry skills!






{{ Equipment ;; I primarily use two double-edged daggers, the hilts of which I carefully wrapped with wire for better grip. The one I wield with my left hand isn't as sharp, but that's because it's a trident dagger with two smaller knives that spring from either side at the push of a knob, useful mostly when I'm in trouble with a sword-waving guard and need to disarm him or her. I also know how to carve boomerangs and tend to carry one around, large enough to bring someone down if I aim for the knees from a long distance. They're usually not reliable enough to be worth the trouble, though; boomerangs need to be large to attack with, and large boomerangs can't fly back. Ah, well, I'm sure they make nice souvenirs for those who can still walk after taking the blow!

{{ Clothing ;; Let's see, how shall I word "vagrant" delicately...? I suppose "vagrant" is better than "tramp," at any rate, so I will use it to describe the likes of which I look like! Unlike most thieves, I choose to wear a ratty, coarse-looking but surprisingly comfortable tunic with a hem that brushes my wrists when my arms are by my sides. I hate the cold, so the tunic, after ripping the front vertically and clumsily stitching a few clasps to the frayed edges, serves as a flimsy sort of jacket to keep me warm. Under it are clothes that make more sense for a thief to wear: a simple sleeveless top with a wide, scooping neck that cuts off above the bottom of the rib cage. There are stains marring its surface that refuse to come off, but the material is in a dark color, so it's hard for people to notice them and make faces at me right away. My pants are black and cling to the length of my legs snugly until mid-thigh; their only distinguishing factor would be the astonishing number of mismatching pockets I've patched on to the sides with aesthetic appeal not in mind. Bare stretches of leg then give way to Haste-equipped boots of soft leather. They're scuffed and a bit large for me calf-wise because they weren't mine to begin with, so I've secured them with long, thin strips of harder leather. My daggers are holstered and hang from the thick belt slung across my hips, and my other possessions are safely stashed away in my makeshift rucksack, which is in actuality my father's old cloak with rope strangling everything in proper shape.

{{ Tell a Tale ;; I really can't tell you my story without telling first my father's. He was a native of Cle Nria, born in Huivn to a good family, not in that it was particularly wealthy, but rather that my grandfather and grandmother were loving people who accepted his quirky charm and ambitions to someday become a grand inventor. Obviously these were shelved dreams; I still remember him describing to me the despair of those darker years before Oedeffes swept in to revive the whole of Illaran. He had to settle for menial work where it was available, but it was selling used wares in the unforgiving market square that he met my mother. She was the bright, ever-laughing flighty type, or so I heard, so naturally my father's smiling strangeness intrigued her. She was pregnant and they were married before anyone could stop to stare or ask if they were really going to be that foolish. Maybe they didn't want to think too deeply about the answer. I don't know.

I do know that money, or lack thereof, became a problem quicker than they expected. Eventually, my parents had to move to Florette, a smaller town that would demand less punishing expenses. My father claimed that he had always meant to end up in Florette anyway—"Serious inventors always prefer quieter places, Nell!"—but my mother must not have found it satisfying enough. A few years after I was born, when it seemed Oedeffes could do not one single wrong, she left us for Lyndrll, the sky city that my father lamented later as having held her thoughts ever since it cast its shadow. I think he would have followed her, too, if it weren't for his staunch loyalty to Thralla and something or the other the former ruler whispered a long time ago. I can't say I remember it, but he did, quite fiercely.

So he decided the two of us would lead happier lives on the outskirts of Florette, near the Ven Sea. He directly boycotted new technology though he continued to tinker on his own, swearing furiously that Oedeffes was stealing ideas from his long-gone friends. He also drifted further and further away from civilization. As a result, I practically grew up on the beach. Any gil that he earned was mostly from repairing anything anyone who bothered to venture the distance requested of him. Though he was a fairly moral man, he started to steal to make ends meet. I never thought any worse of him; in fact, I worshipped him like a god and adopted as much as I could from him. I didn't even care that he sometimes sacrificed a night's dinner for a new machine's spare parts; like stealing, his love for innovation was something that also became my own.

I was crushed when he died, but mourning would have been a waste of energy, even over someone as important to me as my father. That's what he taught me, anyway. It's almost relieving in a strange way after I realized that I was completely alone and quite lost without him. After a while—and I don't care what you saw, I most certainly never wept with a jar of ashes cradled in my arms!—I packed my belongings and journeyed to Bezvalen to turn over a new leaf, so to speak. So far, it hasn't been much greener; my new start includes hunger, adverse weather conditions, and the capital's cobblestones for a bed. But not to worry, I'll find my way somehow. With so many opportunities to polish my skills as a thief in this bustling city, I have no doubt about that!


{{ Hold a Mirror ;; Please, please, please don't be misled by my fairy tale of a history—I'm not one to dwell on the past or mope or plant a glum seed anywhere, honest! In fact, those are the very sorts of people I have the hardest time getting along with. I really don't want to hear how losing not one but two parents is emotionally traumatizing, or that it will leave a black mark on my soul forever, or anything ridiculous like that. So my father died, and I loved him. I'm not going to cry over it. And even if I did—which I didn't!—grief has sucked enough fluid from my eyes to last for ages. And so what if my mother left me at a young age? I don't blame her for going at all! If I weren't loyal to Thralla like my father, I'd want to go up to a sky city and bat at a cloud and bask in the glitter of new technology and marvel at how tiny the earth-bound look like from way up high—but I'm loyal to Thralla like my father. What? I've said that already? Oh! Well, then. It bears repeating! Because I really am. Honestly. And again, I'm not mourning anyone at all. Nope! Not a soul.

If from that speech up there you've gathered the sneaking suspicion that I talk more than I should, congratulations, you're probably right! Sometimes I feel like my mind runs a million miles per hour, and my mouth can hardly keep up with it, so you're actually getting the short version, which is still too much anyway. It's just that it's very hard for me to keep quiet; I love bouncing thoughts off of other people and drawing on the ones they have to offer. I get really annoyed with those who stay silent because I feel that they're holding back on me, which you have to admit is quite rude. Despite this, I'm willing to get along with just about anybody, including the rotten eggs. The only problem is that people have a hard time stomaching an easily excitable, often odd, poorly-dressed person such as myself.

Oh, and the fact that I'm a thief is usually another reason why many gnash their teeth at me instead of smile. I don't even like to think of myself as a thief! I'm first and foremost an aspiring inventor slash newborn adventurer. If the townsfolk would only sheathe their swords and hold their arrows, I'd be able to explain to them that I have every right to steal from them! Didn't they know that I am going to be the founder of an amazing invention someday, an invention so wondrous that no one, much less myself, can hardly even imagine? They should be groveling at my feet, not trying to rid me of my life!

Alas and alack, I suppose not everyone has an eye for the future, or for the good in people, for the matter. Most people don't see me as a curious young woman who can be bright like her mother and quirky like her father. They focus instead on my dubious morality, and I guess I can see the grounds for that, but only if I squint. Is it really so nonsensical to accept that I refuse to hunt in exchange for gil because it's unfair, but would gladly hurt someone in my way of stealing something? It's not as if I don't try to repay my victims for their generosity, it's just that they're frothing at the mouth to snap my neck when I pay them a visit in hopes of making amends.

I'm not a bad person at all! I'm just... misunderstood. And, no, I am not smirking. I don't think I even know how to smirk. I was being perfectly serious!


{{ Political Standpoint ;; Were my father still alive, I think I would say Thralla in a heartbeat. I'd do so not because he'd be pointing a gun to my head, but because I would truly believe it with every fiber of my being. But ever since he died, I've been feeling utterly without boundaries. I've immersed myself in civilization, toyed with Oedeffes-approved technology, and dreamt more and more about the sky cities looming overhead—can you imagine how radiantly it glows from the eyes of someone who is so interested in innovation? When asked, I will say that I side with Thralla, but I have a feeling the image of those towering sky cities will be branded in my brain and burning inside me until I finally succumb to its possibilities.


{{ Theme Song ;; The Microphones. "Weird Storm."

{{ Username ;; Sunny Spaces.

[[Mr.] Snuggles]

{{ Title Me ;; Momma said whut? /Shelena’Chandrakanta Minu Yhurtzeiess De Ethanos MonaDaeg/
{{ Fingers&Toes ;; |Fifty| Years Prior I was a Lover/T w e n t y Years Past I was Alone.
{{ Gender ;; I may wear both the Pants and the Skirt without the Flush of Flamboyancy
{{ Liking ;; The Tea Cup with the Man’s hands.
{{ Originate ;; I lived in a place that is a mere figment of my imagination, therefore I myself do not exist. Shhh! Kjorla Mountain Range; Zrechkduises Village
{{ Sweet Home ;; Bezvalen
{{ Celebrate! ;; December 25th
{{ Race ;;V stands for Vigorously, Vindictively, & Vicotriously Vindicated Viera

{{ Build Me UP ;;
Using Pristine hands to provide Titillating Comestibles.
Company is a synonym of Shelena.
I am a chattel of Freedom, and I love it.
Flaws& Impurities are my Prerogatives.
Disappearing without a Trace, to be Lost is to be Enjoyed.
Technology is exhilarating.
Nature is breathtaking.
Only may Loose Leaf Teas soundlessly kiss my lips.
{{ Tear Me down ;;
Oh, Anything but Blue.
I feel so Inferior when I glance at the Moon.
Though not truly Immaculate, my pride is not in Filth.
Chilly Days and Freezing Nights cause my body to cry.
Only Buried Treasure should be Hidden.
There is no such thing as Perfection.
Evolution is Beautiful, Conforming is Pitiful.
Do not save me, I am not a Damsel.

{{ Class ;; Black Mage
{{ Magic ;; Surely, Selena does have archery skills, but considering she never paid them any mind, it’s fair to say she’s probably everything except for astounding at it. She chose the way of the Mage, a trait that is frowned upon by her kin, but one she has simply decided for herself to linger within. Shelena has become quite the magic caster, having surpassed the set standards at such than the typical archery that her people have become known for. Always the Black Sheep now turned the Black Mage, imagine such. Anyways, Shelena is very well your own personal Offensive Spell dealing Sexpot, one with quite a large arsenal of Strae due to some cruel twist of fate. Her many talents include;

F i r a&F l a r e
B l i z z a r a&W a t e r a
T h u n d a r a&B e r s e r k
B i o&S l o w
G r a v i g a&Q u a k e
B r e a k g a&S l e e p
L i f e&P r o t e c t

{{ Techniques ;; A c c u r a c y
Shelena, despite her clumsiness and her refusal to sometimes acknowledge things that are going on around her, has an aim so unnerving that it often makes others wonder why she didn’t take up archery like her people. In her span of life, never has she missed her designated target unless she felt the urge to, and that’s simply put. She has the ability to listen to not only Nature, but the Strae and focus upon the actual essence and soul of the object instead of the physicality, even if it is not organic. What is her secret? Well, she truly does not have one to spill. She simply relies upon her confidence in herself and doesn’t hesitate to disengage.

S t r a e
Much like the whispers of Nature, the Strae too has a dominant voice within her every fiber. She answers to its chiding just as she would to that of Nature’s. Despite the similarities that many would draw between the two, the Strae is not Nature and Nature is certainly not the Strae, they are two separate entities with two distinct voices. The Strae’s voice, to Shelena, is much like her own; raspy and mysterious yet so brimming with life it’s heartbreaking. It speaks to her in such an informal manner that it makes her at ease with herself and her choice, and in turn, it has become a large part of her life.

Shelena has become an impressive Mage, one that has far exceeded the expectations of her homeland due to the normal Viera having a specified amount of Strae within them. In return for her excommunicating ways and her flamboyancy, Shelena has been graced with the gentle embrace of the Strae to rely upon. She began to utilize the calm that lingered within her to fulfill her passion of magics, and in turn is still on her way with deadly potential to becoming one of the most notorious Black Mages ever known. Though it would help if she wouldn’t stray so eagerly or fall over every discarded wrapper, but it merely comes with the territory.

C h a r m
It is not her solid femininity that makes Shelena so easy to trust, it is the fact that she has accepted herself for who she is and not for what she is. She has an exotically natural charm to her, one that often is used to dissuade battles and harm from ever touching her form, but also one that can back fire on her easily. Not quite the seductress, Shelena does happen to lack the confidence in her own skin at times, and therefore cannot fully perform such an act flawlessly. Still, if need be, she can certainly draw attention to herself so that others may have time to formulate a plan to defeat the monstrosity. Of course, she often forgets that after she successfully grabs the attention of another, she still has to deal with the fact that it might not wear off for a bit.

Imagine a giant blob totally infatuated with you and trying to procreate.

Not pretty is it?

S o u l S w i p e
Not a sight one would expect from such a person, but Shelena’s strong connection to Strae and strained connection to Nature does in fact have its effects. The Viera is able to slip into a Berserk mode when she pleases, which sounds fine save for the fact that it’s rather hard to guarantee when she will revert back to herself. Matter of fact, it’s really not so much that she can control it, but she would absolutely love to be able to feel and say that she can. At times, mainly on a day that will dwindle with a Full Moon, Shelena will experience lapses of the imbalances inside of her and shift into a beastly other and more than likely go into a chaotic rampage.

Being a child of the Dark Arts, it only makes her more dangerous than the normal Viera gone astray in such a way, and it is important that she be restrained before a fatality rate begins to arise. And yes, as ashamed as the woman is to admit such, her hands are stained with something more menacing than sweat and tears. Oh, and no, she is not going to become some werewolf, but she is still just as menacing as such.
{{ Equipment ;;
Although she was certainly not fond of having to deal with the likes of a mere Rod instead of an Axe or a Hammer, Shelena decided it best to simply deal with the fact that her magic would be better off with the Rod instead. That’s not to say that she actually believes such, but she can’t exactly go against the Strae and then be forsaken by both it and Nature now can she?

Considering that she prefers to cast her spells instead of physically subduing, she keeps lightweight armor upon her body at all times unless she feels it to be absolutely necessary so that she’ll be able to freely move about without the hassles of weight having to carry her down. She hasn’t a helm, nor does she truly wish to wield one, but has instead decided to decorate her mane with hair ornaments that will keep her more so resistant to specific elements than enemies would like, especially those of Ice and Water.

She is in fact rather keen on wearing bangles, anklets, and bracelets to help strengthen her magic and also to keep her defenses boosted from the Big Bad Boogeymen that feel aggravated by her Charm’s lonesome after effects. She doesn’t care much to the idea of adding any type of element to her weapon, simply because it is used for elemental casting in the first place, but she does keep a charm or two wrapped around it to keep from being Silenced or Blinded.
{{ Clothing ;; Instead of being Orgasmic, Shelena is simply found herself comfortable with being merely Phantasmagoric.

She is not flaunting her body off for the public to see in casual or battle wear, and that is simply the way she prefers it. This Viera, much to the displeasure of many she’s sure, has instead decided to take her fancy of trying to prim herself in the likes of what she feels would be more complimenting to her new freedom. Half nakedness, in her opinion, hasn’t a thing to do with being free in the sense that she’s talking about.

Strung around her neck a count of twelve times is a thick, soft cut of lace the color of crimson that at once begins to unravel itself from tight strands into loose angles that end bare above her bosom line. Attached to the very tops of the lace is a braided chain of copper that twists into the shape of a withering rose as it rests between the last two spirals of the lace. From there on, the bosom is first bonded to her body, making sure that it appears to seem as nonexistent as her village. Then, as if to make sure the tracks have been covered, she then wears a sleeveless bodysuit that happens to be the color of shells to hide the ivory bandages beneath them. After such, she sports a crimson chemise {1830s respectively} with lace ruffles cascading about in a wildly elegant manner while the chemise itself exposes beautiful mocha shoulders to the public as it merely covers the area beneath.

Brimming directing underneath the bust line she seemingly is lacking is what appears to be a corset made of ebony that winds down just about to her waistline before splitting off to either hip and curling lightly like the petal of an Iris as it descends into length to where the very back of it reaches to the start of her calves. From there on, to cover her thighs and derrière from the likes of the cold is a smooth ebony skirt that reaches to the mid of her thigh before forming into a ruffled veil of lace and crimson taffeta that swoops down into awe inspiring embroidery that has carefully crafted symbols threaded out with copper against the ivory backdrop. The veil itself staggers lightly before having its middle suddenly end with a gothic outline of a key while its sides flow endlessly around her ankles.

Her knees have been layered with copper wires and pulled into small locks onto the front for display. Beneath the wires are crimson legwarmers that cling to her defined calves like spandex, smoothing over the heeled boots that she normally cannot be seen without. Often she sports a fingerless glove on her right hand with a few rings simply fitting her left so that it doesn’t feel lonely.

As far as extras may go, she often has a lace circlet that’s pulled all of her hair from falling past her nape into a bun of sorts save for a few wild strands that curl wherever they please.
{{ Tell a Tale ;;
Shelena was born to the likes of a place where secrecy is held above everything and anything.

If you leave Zrechkduises Village then you no longer exist to it and it no longer exists to you. You will not speak word of it, or even show the faintest of hints that perhaps there is truth that it may exist about its legacy. You will be branded as kin to those outside of its proximity, and Nature will resent and tarnish your bond with her. That is the rule of the village, one that is bred into the youth and understood into adulthood.

Shelena’Chandrakanta Minu Yhurtzeiess was birthed into a prestigious family in the village, one of the oldest to have set up in the village in the first place. Not only was she the heir of such a noble bloodline, but when she first opened her startling bi-colored eyes, it was announced that she was to be the next De Ethanos MonaDaeg. Surely, it may sound like something questionable, especially if one was on the outside looking in, but once more such cannot be detailed –for it only exists in the sheer fragments of your imagination and cannot be truly held accountable. Moving on, Shelena was raised in the likes of something more along the lines of a traditional setting.

She was bred upon the ideas of Nature and just how ridiculous the outside world happened to be with its constant needs of technological advancements. She was pampered, that much she would admit to, being treated as if she were some sort of being superior to the likes of her own kin. Of course, that once again correlated with her having to reign as the De Ethanos MonaDaeg. Of course, that’s currently out of the question to speak about, and really, that’s actually about as far as things can be delved into.

It’s taboo to speak of the affairs that went on, so we’ll simply move upon the affairs that went after.

Shelena had left her home in what seemed to be involuntarily, it had really been an attempt upon her life if details were looked into. Yet, it was simply her wanting to escape the likes of those she loved to see what she had been missing without having the complications of breaking hearts and the guilt of betraying. Surely, it was not as if she did not carry the guilt of leaving her own in such a manner, but she had also fallen in love with the man that had helped her do such. He was not a Viera, the man that had stolen her heart, but he was in fact the most interesting specimen she had ever come to make acquaintance with.

It took time, she was not lovelorn in any aspect, but it was not as if he had such daunting flaws that would keep her heart from fluttering even in the first of his presence. Perhaps, one could say that Shelena had been so overwhelmed by the world beyond what she had always known that she was blinded to her natural instincts. The one that she had discarded unknowingly for love and adventure, the one that she had never thought would seek vengeance against her person and refuse to let her be taken back into its’ heart.

She failed to notice the glances of utter resentment that was lost between the splash of content, the expressions pulled into smiles and friendliness that really were foreboding and devilish, and the aura of cherish and sincerity that was really deception and dismay.

She had become a slave to love, and in return she was going to be executed as a means to show the evolution that was going to come. She was to be an example, to be used to show physically how the traditions would be beheaded to the likes of technology, and she hadn’t an idea about it. Perhaps it was her punishment for falling for someone outside of her home, for wanting to caress things other than Nature, for longing to be able to whisper to things that were outside of the boundaries. Still, as thoughtless as she was to it all, she could not help but suddenly cry every time the full moon blossomed when she watched him sleep. There was something haunting her, though it certainly was not Nature, and it was telling her that Fate was not currently in her favor.

So, in her defense, she grew weary with every step she took with him, finding that the presence within her grew as she began to waiver her defenses. It was a faithful day in which the keeper of her shackles had decided to set her free, for they were going to travel to one of the fascinating Sky Cities. At the time, it would be an understatement to say that she was excited about the idea, but she repressed her affectivity at the time to truly try to understand the concept of the man she had fled her home for and with. She watched his every move, from the Sunrise to the Dusk and the Sunset, and realized that she had been taken as an idiot and carried along for a voluntary ride to her demise. Of course, she was a Viera, but even Viera have trouble dealing with matters of the heart at times.

Well, this particular Viera did at least.

A long story short, they were to travel to one of the Sky Cities, and for some odd reason, she had been left behind. He had left her for the city, left her after revealing that he was a traitor and his intentions were far less than a cry of gentlemanly. Shelena was hurt, much to his surprise, but when he abandoned her she had only the Strae to comfort her. She hadn’t truly anywhere to go, stuck in a land full of wonders and unfamiliar faces, but it was certainly something she felt more lured to than returning to her own home. So, with her dignity shattered, that’s exactly what she did.

She moved on, but still she strives to visit the Sky Cities to find that menace of a man and give him what’s coming to him.

Hey, revenge is way of moving on.
{{ Hold a Mirror ;;
D r e a m e r; “Her eyes mesmerized by the diminishing glories of What Couldn’t..”
Apparently, there is nothing admirable about one whom finds comfort in their dreams, especially not if they have been birth and bred into the likes of the Viera. Shelena is a dreamer, one capable of imagining the most vivid things that only her memory could ever be capable of duplicating for time beyond. She tries desperately to remember that reality is the only set path before her, but when she is staring into the full of the moon, she cannot help but feel overwhelmed by the whimsical breath that brushes over her. She finds herself intrigued by things that she had always been belittled for being curious about, and that they happen to surpass her conjured thoughts without a doubt.

At times, though unintentionally, she has found herself regarding the magnificence of the structures that those on the outside world have erected, from the Sky Cities to the meager ones that feet would sustain. It is not to say that her love of Nature has been hindered in any way, for she will always be the child of the land, yet she cannot speak negatively of the surroundings constructed by mere fingers and palms.

C l u m s y; “Her feet strum and composed of the What Isn’t..”
Let us be honest, if one were to glance towards the Viera, they certainly would find her striking features and posture to be worthy of praise like no other. However, others have simply been fooled due to the fact that she may actually not be in motion when they first make their assumptions. Truly, within a mere moment or so of being in physical action, the Viera would end up from the balls of her dainty feet to the dried mud upon the ground, more than likely face first. She is perhaps the most aggravating klutz known to the world, one that seems only to be caught up in the act when dealing with her own motions.

Certainly, she has grace and reflexes that are rather impressive, but if the need arises for her to perhaps walk a few feet without stumbling in the slightest, she’d fail. It’s simple really, such a incriminating characteristic for one of a race know for their elegance, scanty clothing, and estrogen driven superiority; she was simply made to be an unfair weakness to a people whose weaknesses have never truly been exploited. Of course, it’s not to say that such a trait takes away her presence, for it happens to still be grand, but it makes her more approachable because of such.

B e w i l d e r e d; “Her essence captured by What Shouldn’t.."
Shelena, the dear that she is, gets flustered in such a growing pace that it seems almost irresistible to tease her. She, though of a headstrong bloodline, cannot handle such things as adoration, affection, and perhaps that beautiful little thing called love. Now, that’s not to say that she is totally against such romancing, but how could she, the vivaciously independent Viera, ever hope to gain the true simplicity of emotion when her race happens to personify sexiness and seduction in their endeavors? The thought of it all, such filthy comments passing every sway of her hips, heated glances catching her own as sweat slithers down her body in gluttony, bodies arousing at the mere whiff of her scent..

It’s simply too much for the girl, not that she is not at all worth the taunting.

Certainly, such a tall woman tensed by the closeness of an attractive other whose intentions are a little less than friendly is definitely worth the aftershock experience of her temper. It simply is not the public show of intimacy, but also the fact that she cannot grasp the concept of actually realizing that she has the same requests that others have for herself. She cannot help but linger upon the idea of lips smothering her own, whether they were soft and subtle or raw and passionate would not be a factor. Though she would certainly never admit such, her curiosity is not at all hidden purely by her self-righteous actions.

Of course, it’s still more fun to lie in a lewd position before her and began to chat carelessly about fornications and all of the fun that comes with it, especially when the rise comes.

B l a c k S h e e p; “And for the heart that weeps, I bare the curse that breathes..”
What is Nature’s punishment to the people that refused to acknowledge her lavish gifts and tranquility?

Apparently the branding of one of their own was punishment enough for the people. The knowledge that a beautiful existence had been burdened with the silly ideals of those not from their own was enough to send regards that their Mother was not pleased with their behavior whatsoever. Yet still, despite the noticeable differences in perspectives and the open heart that often tried to envelope the fragments scattered ruthlessly amongst her brethren, Shelena found that she was still longed for. She was the Black Sheep amongst her village, having become the embodiment that clashed with their ideas and routines, but at the same time she was still as tender as the petal of a chastised rose.

Though now, she is well aware of the naivety of her thoughts when she was still nestled with the scents of innocence haunting her breath. She has now managed to dismiss the fact that she truly was being smothered by the blanket of dependence, instead of allowed the freedoms and fruits that daily routines and traditions would not have. That was it, that was what she wanted; Freedom.

It would be the Black Sheep that craved such a thing, letting it feverishly plague her body until she was unable to sense anything save for it. It was Distorting her Hearing, making her Taste the Forbidden, become Intoxicated with its Scent, Obsessed with its Touch, and Hungry at its Sight. She was struck by such a ferocious thing, one that only the few who actually left the warmth of home may only ever get a glimpse of. And still, as much power that it granted her, that freedom that she desired violated her and stripped her bare of everything. To commit to such a seduction would leave her in shambles, that much she was aware, but to disregard it and let it haunt every ravished inch of her was a fate worse than anything following it would succumb to.

So, she did the only thing that she could; she kissed it with arms wide open.
{{ Political Standpoint ;; She cannot admit to being truly enthralled by either side, finding that the only means of reliability can barely be contaminated in one’s self. She is not for or against either, though her feelings of Oedeffes leaves much to be desired, for he has become the indirect cause of her grief and anguish over the most of her lifespan. Yet still, had it not have been for he, she perhaps would have still been in the likes of her home, tainted by the curse of repetition until her final days of withering. Thralla, on the other hand, has spoken to her through a means of essence and heart, a thing which takes the mightiest of hearts do to.

Still, there is never a precise side to be taken when in the mists of politics and war, and considering she has now found her self in a combination of the two, she feels she must decide as she grows within the chaos.

{{ Theme Song ;; Sugarcube- Porcelain and the Tramps
It’s Time to Dance- Panic! At the Disco
{{ Username ;; Cerulean Catcher.

[[Mr.] Snuggles]

{{ Title Me ;; Reo Kurisutofu
{{ Fingers&Toes ;; One and Twenty.
{{ Gender ;; Male
{{ Liking ;; Bisexual, although Reo has virtually no experience or knowledge in affairs of the heart.
{{ Originate ;; Rastrebin
{{ Sweet Home ;; Ostrella
{{ Celebrate! ;; December 21st.
{{ Race ;; Elvaan

{{ Build Me UP ;; Swords
Bravery
Legends and Myths
Heroism
Berries
Nature
Traveling
{{ Tear Me down ;; Being called 'Healer'
Heights
Lies
Peace and quiet
Routine
Dirt
{{ Class ;; White Mage
{{ Magic ;; Cure, Scan, Protect, Shell, and Antidote. Your typical White Magic. Useful, as far as it goes, but not nearly as flashy or as impressive as Reo would like.
{{ Techniques ;; Clockwork eyes: Although Reo has suffered from poor eyesight for most of his young live, the few things he could see well he saw very well, being able to understand an object just from looking at it. Whereas most people would look at a table and see a table, Reo sees the screws, how they fit together, the stains on the surface, the scuffs on the bottom, and almost all other minor details. This ability proves helpful when metting new people and things as well, giving him a remarkable skill for assesment, something that would prove useful in battle, assuming he ever sees any.
{{ Equipment ;; Some heroes have massive, gleaming blades that shine with a magical fire as they cut apart monsters and villians, some have exquistely crafted bows with scores of lethal shafts just waiting to bite into enemy flesh, still others rely on extemporaneous weapons, using whatever is at hand to smite their foes.

Reo has a stick. A very good stick, he would say, but still, only a stick. Carved by the Elvaan himself from a tree that had been struck by lightning, it's not exactly a fordimidable weapon, but Reo loves it just the same. He typically swings the heavier, gnarled end about, but the bottom has been capped with iron, making it dangerous as well.

For defense, the young male is adorned with two simple bracers that have an added feature, suggested by Reo himself. Each one holds a single potion in a well-protected inner compartment, requiring only a bit of precise pressure and a turning motion to deposit the bottle of medicinal liquid into the wearer's hands. Unlike, the worn, naturalistic look of his staff, Reo keeps these well-polsihed and shined, much like the obsidian ring on his finger that protects him from nearly all poisons.
{{ Clothing ;; Reo's favorite outfit and the one he wars most frequently starts off with simple, sturdy brown boots, leaf-green pants that are neither too tight nor too diaphanous, and a brown belt with an impressively large golden buckle. Above that he wears a simple but high-quality white shirt underneath a vest of green with gold sticthing and buttons. Above that he throws a large green garment that is a cross between overcoat and cape, with sleeves adorned with needless metal buttons and a back that tends to hang and move about his legs as though it were alive. He keeps the whole outfit impeccably clean, valuing the importance that his apperance has.

{{ Tell a Tale ;; For the first decade or so of his life, Reo was nothing special. Oh, sure he was another aspiring Elvaan warrior, more concerened with swordplay and tales of adventure than the lack of inspiration that was gripping the world. Rastrebin wasn’t exactly known for the technological prowess of its inhabitants even before the Illaran seemed to give up. So when Reo’s thirteenth birthday came around and he could begin his formal training
to be a Warrior, he couldn’t have been more happy. In just a few decades, people would sing songs and write epic poems to catalgouge his many adventures and feats of strength, he would be the greatest warrior Dezv-nay, the world-had ever seen. There was just one problem.

He was rubbish. Just really, really bad. And it wasn’t for lack of trying either. The boy threw himself into his training with an eagerness and drive that many of his fellow villagers admired. He just wasn’t any good, which made his earnestness all the more heart-breaking to those responsible for his training. And so, about three months after he had started his training, Reo was told by his trainers, and indeed, most everyone else in the village, that he would never be a great warrior, that some people just had an aptitude for certain things and others did not. This was all explained in very calm, caring tones, with many soothing strokes of the cheek and heart-felt glances (at least by the adults of the villages, Reo's peers were far less forgiving). None of which made Reo feel any less miserable about the situation. His whole life, he felt, had been building to being a warrior, and now that dream was just gone. For a while, he resolved to train himself, to prove everyone wrong, but soon enough, the hours of solitary practice had revealed that he just didn’t have what it took. His body was strong enough and his heart willing, but he was simply missing something, that indefinable quality that we call ‘fighting spirit.’ So he languished in his village for a few years, living with his parents and wondering what reason he had to continue living. He had thought about maybe taking up a craft, of becoming an inventor. The village council encouraged this, as they thought it was something that could give the melodramatic boy something to be happy about. But there was always a warning in the back of this mind, a remembered phantom of a voice from when he had been young. A warning against Oedeffes, he who was responsible by law for looking at new inventions. So he abandoned that route, and for quite some time he lived his life with not a care in a world. He couldn’t invent, couldn’t fight, what point was there in going on? His body, once sculpted of showy (if ineffectual) muscles, soon turned to mere flesh and bones. His adventurous spirit, however, never truly died. And so, when he was seventeen, he managed to convince a friend of his to take him on a hunt in the nearby forest, something he had been wanting to do for quite some time. His friend finally agreed, if only to get Reo to stop bugging him, fairly confident that his ineptitude wouldn’t cause any problems.

But, of course, he was wrong. It was bad enough that Reo’s attempts at subtle movements were likely to make more noise than any animal they could come across, but he had a truly abysmal aim as well. So, in just a short amount of time, his friend had been gored and Reo was in quite a panic. And it was then that he discovered his natural aptitude. With his friend’s lifeblood spilling into a pool around his body, the young Elvaan found his hands inexplicably glowing as he attempted to fashion some sort of make-shift bandage. Remarkably, his friend's injury seemed to heal somewhat, right in front of his eyes. Of course his friend was still bed-ridden for nearly a month, but at least he was still alive, and more importantly, Reo felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: pride. However, despite the fact that most of the adults in the village were only too willing to tell him what a rare and important gift he had, Reo still couldn’t help but wish it was something a little more impressive. The thought of being a healer didn’t strike him as particularly heroic. But considering as it was a gift, the only one he had, he resolved to actually make something of it. So, he spent three years wandering around Dezv, gaining in skill in his talent, un-inspiring as it may have been, by traveling with whatever competent Swordsmen he could convince to take him along. At the age of twenty, he took a boat to the mainland, travelling to Ostrella with no more than his trusty staff and a pack of his few precious possessions.

He found the city to be quite entrancing, a multitude of people, foods, places and objects that was truly staggering to his young mind. Even more amazing, he was able to find something to cure his terrible affliction of the eyes, a remarkable device known as spectacles. With his eyes in working order again, and his mastery of healing magic progressing, the question of what to do next presented itself to the young Elvaan. He didn’t have an idea, to be true, but he had one desire in mind, to ascend to Saulmin, the beloved Sky Port that captured his eyes and heart every time he gazed upon it. So he found work healing the sick and injured and he also began to study medicine. His lessons were intermittent and at the hands of various teachers, as he only had enough coin for private lessons. Still, within a year he was confident of both his magic and his knowledge of the body and what might affect it disadvantageously. The Elvaan body, that is, the physiology of other races was still a mystery to him. But he was able to afford a trip to Saulmin, and that was enough for him. He figured it was as good a step as any to become someone of importance.

As a result of his studies Reo has become fascinated with potions, elixers and medicines of all kind. He's even cobbled together a make-s**t laboratory in the cramped apartment he calls home. Although he does actually have a degree of in-born talent for makign medicines, he still tends to have at least as many failures as he does successes. Small explosions and minor fires are common where he lives, and his hands are usually stained with the residue of his latest concotion. It is worth noting that although he one day wishes to be skilled enough to actually sell some of the things he makes, he insists on testing them on himself. Although this has helped heal a few minor injuries of his, it has also resulted in dizzying spells, blackouts, a strange affinity for garlic, a certian twitchy quality, and abnormally strong fingernails. Like everything else with the young Elvaan, it's a work in progress.
{{ Hold a Mirror ;; At heart, Reo’s still a child, obsessed with the idea of becoming a great hero. Vain? Yes. Naïve? Definitely. But still, his heart was in the right place, most of the time. Over his short life, he’s had most of his hope beaten out of him by his failure to amount to anything as a swordsman, but what little of it remained seemed to gain in strength when he discovered his propensity for magic. As such, he has an undying spirit, the belief that anything that can be made wrong can be made right again, no matter how arduous a process it might be. He yearns for adventure in his life, and because he has yet to really find any, he likes to over-exaggerate his daily life. A simple trip to the market becomes a thrilling tale of derring-do, avoiding unruly shoppers and engaging in nerve-wracking negotiations with shrewd shop-keepers for the best price. Reo is the kind of person who believes in doing something all the way or not at all, never compromising or backing down from his ideals. Still, despite his own less-than-realistic views on life, he still tends to be fair in his judgments of people, caring not for a person’s race or motivations, but simply for their merit. Heroes are what they are because they do things no one else could, because they stare the horrors of Illaran in the eye and never blink, and these are traits young Kurisutofu wishes to emulate.

It is worth nothing that most heroes didn’t get that way by trying, rather being thrust into amazing circumstances and having the gumption to come out and top. Reo is not that way at all. He goes looking for trouble and adventure, although he seems to find only the former. Not that he cares, really, for in his mind, even having something bad happen to him is better than a dull, boring day. It’s probably these excessive beliefs that cause him to be a rather hard person to approach in anything approaching normal conversation. He’d rather discuss the long-ago exploits of Magog the Strong than the weather, or recite the names of all one hundred and one demons that the hero Mash banished back to the lower plains instead of talking about how his run-down apartment is in danger of collapsing. Still, despite all his lofty, goals, it’s the day-to-day things that seem to give him the most trouble. Other people find him to pretentious and needlessly talkative, often bringing up a tale of heroism and a heroic quip that has nothing to do with the current situation. He's a romantic at heart, nights filled with dreams of his perfect girl, a nameless beauty who would love him unconditionably and be loved in return by him. Of course, these simplistic fantasties haven't by any means prepared Reo for his interactions with actual women, and he tends to end up invariably flustered and embarrased.

As someone who's life is based around the practice of trying to become more than he is, Reo rarely tends to express his true thoughts and feelings. At least, if he has any say in the matter, his mouth has the annoying habit of blurting out whatever's on his mid whenever it is most inconvienent to him. When he needs to think of something witty and charming to say, it's silent as a grave, but when there's a chance to look like a fool, his tongue and lips work with a speed and precision that is quite startling. If he could use the not un-impressive brains he has, Reo would just keep his mouth shut and come off as the silent dependable type. But there's no chance of that. But still, there's something of a hero in him. He's brave, almost foolishly so at point, honest, upstanding, and with an undeniable morality that has guided his life for years. His judgment may not be the most discerning thing, but once he has deduced just what is right and what is wrong, there is little chance he will choose anything but right.
{{ Political Standpoint ;; If it hadn't been for the warning he recieved lo, those many years ago, Reo would probably be one of Oedeffes' staunchest supporters, for the man's well-known actions are nothing short of miraculous. As it is, he respects Oedeffes and his ingeniuty, but he can't help shape the feeling that maybe Illaran's people shouldn't be resting all of their hopes on one man. It's the greatest of heroes that teach others to do as they do, not just help them when they are weak.

{{ Theme Song ;; "Owner of a Lonely Heart" by Yes
{{ Username ;; R o n i n.

[[Mr.] Snuggles]

{{ Title Me ;; Daesva Phiend
{{ Fingers&Toes ;; 22 years
{{ Gender ;; Female
{{ Liking ;; Heterosexual
{{ Originate ;; Ostrella
{{ Sweet Home ;; Peza
{{ Celebrate! ;; June 20th
{{ Race ;; Elvaan

{{ Build Me UP ;;
Earthy tones... and purples
Target practice
Peaceful scenery
Music
Reading
Not having to buy more ammo at full price -if at all
The Hunter's guild
Time to think and ponder the meaning of life whatever
{{ Tear Me down ;;
Constantly hyper people
Loud or high pitched noises
Being called short
Close combat fights
Lizards
Breaking a nail
Bitter food
Pinks
Losing ammo


{{ Class ;; Gunner

{{ Magic ;; Cure is the only spell she's managed to master.

{{ Techniques ;; "Trigger Happy", " Cheap Shot", " Scattershot" -Two guns means double shots without fail. She is sorely aware of her lack of physical strength, so her fighting style excessively uses not only distance and aim, but the environment around her to either enable her to get to higher ground, or manipulate something to hinder her opponent.

{{ Equipment ;; Besides her guns, Noirceur and Rappel, and constant ammo, pieces of light armor over a few useful points are her only real notable accessories. Unless you count the many rings, bracelets, earrings, and belts she wears. None seem to have any point, it's not like any have any secret or valuable properties to them that might save her hide, but she claims they're light and manageable, so she doesn't bother altering anything.

{{ Clothing ;; At 5'3" there's not a heck of a lot of room to work with, but Daesva's seemed to have managed well enough. Feminine yet practical, casual yet ready for battle, she's also thrown in her own personal taste for order and simplicity to the not-so-odd attire. Well, at least "not-so-odd" in her eyes.

A basic strip of cloth the color of mud is pulled across her chest, and really... that's all she's got up there. Sure there's a choker of bright purple material and a silver chain around her neck, and a sphere of mist-blue stone set at the top of the brown cloth, but beyond that, nothing else conceals her torso. A sleeve of chainmail runs over her left arm, pulling over the left side of her chest and the links woven into the cloth to hold it fast in position to protect her heart. The armor is woven again into leather this time, a fingerless glove on the left hand, an odd one with the pointer and thumb full fingered until just before reaching the bright-blue painted nail where it's cut off; the rest of the fingers on it are cut to normal, just-beyond-first-knuckle length like the normal glove on her right hand. Her right arm has nothing but silver bangles, strips of blue, purple, and brown cloth, a thick silver ring around her wrist, and a well-sized tube of silver around her upper arm where another sphere of pale blue rests.

Further down, two dark brown belts cross over her hips, holding her guns parallel to her hands when at rest. Tan short-shorts are covered by a longer, but still relatively short, skirt of rust-colored hide. Reason for the shorts? The huge slit up the right side of the skirt might have a lot to do with them being needed. Just beyond the shorts, straps of equally light leather are wrapped around her legs, each holding spare bullets for her guns. Two on her right leg, three on her left, that's all there's room for before running into her leg armor. Two pieces, one to cover her knee and a bit of leg above it, they connect via bolts and hinges to the second, longer piece covering her shins. Both pieces are attached to her legs by basic leather straps buckled in the back. Boots take over then, the majority a dark brown that offers the backing, toe, and two-inch heels. The rest is of a lighter, softer leather that connects together a few inches above her ankles, then curves, and offers the siding to make sure her feet don't slip sideways out of the footwear. But neither material offer protection for the tops of her feet beyond the toes, so she added in more armor, once again two -albeit much smaller- pieces so she can move her feet with perfect normal ease -to keep them on the boot, a sort of metal claw comes from the bottom most piece and hooks into the boot. Can be removed if desired, though.

The last addition to her attire, if she so chooses, is a dark leather jacket that stops at her waist. Nothing special about it, although the inside is darker than the other, as shown by the turned collar and rolled up sleeves. But really, that's it. It's basic, offers cover were needed and enough warmth to get her to shelter. It's slightly scuffed, though, but easily marked off as just "well used." Which, really, it is. Nothing else really stands out about her, maybe the six piercings on each of her long ears that are characteristic to her race. Three silver studs that alternate with three silver hoops. Nothing big, nothing fancy. Just simple, sane, and pretty practical.

{{ Tell a Tale ;; Never especially gifted financially, yet never quite in need of support from other sources, Daesva's small family of parents and three siblings was hardly an exciting bunch. At least, not to her tastes. The same old people, same old life... nothing useful, nothing new. Of course, for twelve years of her life, most of the world was in the same state, now wasn't it? Twelve years of the same life, of the same people, of the same... everything! No changes, no nothing... until he came. Of course, the results are well known, no reason to detail more on the changes and the wonderful new technology. Her parents supported Oedeffes without question, her siblings with them. Not that she could blame them, she welcomed any change with open arms and a wide grin upon her face. But that whisper... that brief moment where everything seemed to freeze with that small warning. It seemed time ground to a halt and stayed such for decades. Then she blinked. And everything was changing again.

Laughter and smiles and adventures were all she seemed to know from then on out until her mid-teens, always new technology to use and play with and hopefully not break. Especially those that used some from of projectile. Those were fun. Guns especially, when she'd finally convinced her mother through begging and pouts and strikes to let her darling daughter try her aim with the creations. A good thousand shattered pots and random objects later, her dear mother shooed her off to practice with the hunters of the family. And she would grin and run off to do so, and some form of change would come and bring a new adventure to her door. Change was good, but too much, too quickly was tiresome and insanity to a point she couldn't believe any could comprehend nor deal with.

But they did, and Daesva found herself slipping away from her family. Not in the stereotypical "change is bad so those that accept it are bad and so are you" standard she suspected others used, but rather... she just didn't have much to say to them any more. No conversations, no laughter beyond the few outbursts now and then at random stupidity. Sure they would interact and seem relatively okay, but then they would turn to some new topic of how wonderful the government was or how great the newest techno-mc-bobber was they'd spotted in the stores. And she would try to stay apart of the conversation... but she would be kicked out somehow, unable to respond and forced to move back and away. Eventually, she simply tuned out. Not just her family, but society in general. She wasn't apart of it, and they wouldn't include her. So she drifted away and turned internal without the constant contact. Her mischief and wild nature was toned down, eventually covered up completely with plaster of philosophy and simplicity. Her entire self changed, and her family would not accept her. They shunned her, ignore her... just as she did them. They still existed as a family... but it was not the way a family should exist at all. So, at eighteen and officially a woman, she left her home.

Wandering Dezv had her encountering beasts and feral creatures, the normal breeds that stalked the wood. Her lack of physical training in favor of aiming practice began to take its toll, her only real means of survival the guns and bullets she'd received as birthday gifts and bought respectively. Hardly a way to make a true living, though the Hunts did put a pretty gil in her pocket... still, if she didn't have something to kill, she was broke. And homeless with no way to pay rent. And hungry with no way to buy food. Yeah... no. Not very fun, not very desirable... it was the second time in her life she actually wanted change to come.

Three years at last sent her to Jhall, finally sick of the everyday scenery of her childhood home -not to mention finally able to afford the airfare. The capital became her new surroundings and almost immediately she lost herself in the bustle and rustle of the city life she'd long since left behind. Travels for Hunts were her only real reason to leave the boundaries of the high-tech world, sometimes trips to other cities and towns to test her skills and better her aim. A few attempts with magics left her with the bitter desire to stick to basic healings, though. All in all... she never did much, or at least not like others. Not against the political changes and figures and problems. It wasn't her place, although she wasn't fond of the change now. But changes come, and she has no doubt change will come to the government as well in due time. Still though... a part of her waits. A part not yet changed by changes outside her control, not yet willing to let go of those decades spent in frozen time. Waits to hear that voice again... and know the changes really were for the good of her world.

{{ Hold a Mirror ;; Daesva isn't a complicated Elvaan. She laughs, she cries, she pouts, she fights. She just happens to prefer staying at a more subdued state when dealing in those emotions, that's all. Makes it easier to deal with others when she doesn't have to sit and wait for them to evaluate her new disposition and change themselves accordingly. The less her personas differentiate between one another, the less complicated things have to be.

Which... really, is the one thing she actually strives for these days. Simplicity. Uniform. Sanity. Three things, sure... but all connected, all universal, aren't they? Once, she longed for change, breathed it and worshiped it when at last it came. But now... she hides from it, eyeing the new technology with such dislike and mistrust that many thought her too old fashioned to live on these soils. At least in this era, anyways. Which, really, she can't argue with for more than the time it takes for her to open her mouth... then promptly close it when she mentally admits defeat. The mischief nature of her youth has faded considerably, but hasn't yet been flushed out by guns and philosophical thoughts and political questions. It still remains, muffled behind blank expressions and raised eyebrows questioning others' sanity. It's visible, when her calm exterior cracks ever so slightly and her hand can't hide the splitting grin and completely silence the choking laughter. It's still present, when she gets that gleam in her misty blue eyes and later sits smug and proud after someone's fallen into some trap or prank of hers she'd so methodically set up. It's just... tucked away, sealed for a rainy day.

Her temper is still obvious, though. It's not the easiest beast to stir, but once her eye begins to twitch and her fists clench, if she can't remove herself from the situation that's causing the issues like she always tries... one might compare her to a bomb. The smaller the container, the bigger the boom. Once she starts on her way towards the explosion, only actually getting away from the problem calls her back out. Otherwise... a ticking time bomb just waiting for the right button to be pushed so she can roar and snap and hiss and bite and verbally dismember the source. She rarely gets physical, though. Which can be considered a blessing since she's rarely without her guns on hand.

It's always the calm, thinker-type ones, isn't it?

{{ Political Standpoint ;; Although she can still understand Oedeffes' actions in bringing along the changes, she can't forget that voice and the warning it brought. She sides with Thralla and the resistance, if only to bring along the third desired change of her life.


{{ Theme Song ;; Frou Frou - Let Go
{{ Username ;; Kailey Koreco

[[Mr.] Snuggles]

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{{ Title Me ;; Kalli Rheat
{{ Fingers&Toes ;; 50-26 = twenty-four
{{ Gender ;; A SHE is the way to describe her.
{{ Liking ;; HETeroSEXual
{{ Originate ;; dRee Forest ► Dezv
{{ Sweet Home ;; Calymin ► dRee Forest ► Dezv
{{ Celebrate! ;; St. Valentines
{{ Race ;; Viera

{{ Build Me UP ;;

→ Simplicity
→ Forests
→ Carving
→ Listening
→ Sleeping
→ Waterfalls
→ Autumn & Falling Leaves

{{ Tear Me down ;;

← Technology
← Crowds
← Chain saws
← Noise
← Disrespect
← Chickens
← Polk-a-dots

{{ Class ;; Archer

{{ Magic ;;

Magic is not of the essence within this young Viera, her skills are more specifically associated with navigation and long distance archery. However she has acquired some knowledge of basic spells and has worked by her own means to make them all the more efficient.

→ Esuna II: helps those wounded and rids a person of their negative ailments (ex. Pain).
→ Cure II: an upgrade from Cure that deals with helping a person’s wound in general.

Kalli isn’t exactly the strongest at using the cure spells as they tend to use a large quantity of her own energy. So she took it upon herself to learn Esuna so that she could at least let a person be at peace if she could not help them heal completely. This of course shows off the one gentle part of normally hard personality.

{{ Techniques ;;

Where to start is a good question because Kalli’s techniques and skills differ from those in battle and those off scene. Her talents are varied but for the most part they are associated to each other. How quaint?

Long Range Archery: like any Viera she was trained with a bow and arrow at a young age and since her comprehension of math and probability was high she found that she quickly grasped how to calculate long range shots in her head. And like any archer, her longest distance was never recorded. She knows it but it’s not like she’ll tell just anyone. They wouldn’t believe her.

Archer Techniques include:

→ Calculation (quick thinking to calculate distance, probability and those fancy ears on her head help her figure out how strong the wind is blowing.)

→ Defend and Count-er (step to the [insert direction here], count and fire!)

→ Three Strong (a shot using a long distance bow and three arrows.)

→ Kick-a-Flip (Feet aren’t just for walking.)

{{ Equipment ;;

Well, to start with the absolutely obvious, Kalli always carries around with her the large, seemingly oversized, long distance archery bow that has been with her since she made it. Its size, when she’s holding it by her side, stands up to her shoulder and arches heavily outwards. The bow itself is not made of just wood; instead it’s a heavy duty weapon with small metal plates adorning it, like its own armour. Along with the bow comes the obvious quiver which is most always strapped over Kalli’s shoulder. The quiver itself is divided into a series of sections with different arrows. These arrows obviously have different purposes. The tallest of them are used for long range archery, the shortest as for close combat. In all she carries, most times, four different kinds of arrows with her; long distance, short distance, fire (coated with a rather flammable substance) and basic (used for other needs). Each arrow had a heavy metal head making her quiver another heavy item to carry.

Besides her weapons her armour is that of a traditional Viera. First she has a silver head plate that slides onto her head with holes for her ears. It reaches just at her hairline. Next she had has a metal like corset that works as a bodice for clothing when in battle. To accompany the corset she has long wrist guards of metal that reach her elbows and buckle on with leather straps. These gauntlets are Kalli’s shield without the bulk, a functional two way purpose besides being a wrist guard when she’s shooting off arrows like a madman.

One of the unique things about Kalli is the armour that protects her from waist down. Instead of being like most Viera, wearing a complete bodice that is both alluring and revealing, she wears her own customized armour. At her waist she starts by wearing thick leather shorts which are accompanied by a thick black leather belt that often holds a variety of materials (maps, bottles etc.) These aren't any ordinary shorts. On top she has adjustable chain mail pieces that can be clipped on and off when going in and out of battle. This way she has some protection but most other times she doesn't think too much about her legs. After this she follows typical traditions. Armour that matches her gauntlets covers her upper thighs to her knees. Then the next part of her amour, a thick black shin guard, covers from her ankle to wear the thigh armour ends. All the while this armour is of an intricate design that permits easy mobility. Lastly she wears toe protection for her feet, we wouldn’t want her feet to be any less lethal now would we?


{{ Clothing ;;

x o x

Fashion is not exactly Kalli’s favourite thing to muddle over. As a Viera she is not afraid to get down into the mud, her clothes are her clothes and they can be washed clean every time. Her outfits vary depending on her mood or what intentions she has to accomplish in a day. That and if she’s going to a formal affair or just her ordinary day to day wear. But to keep it simple there are two outfits she wears regularly, one for occasion and one for well, everything else.

From top to bottom she’s most times well kept. It’s a trait passed down from her mother and so to keep herself clean or at least want to Kalli keeps herself clean cut. Her hair is long and a white blonde in tint, a Viera trademark. And like most of her siblings her hair is chunky, thick, heavy, layered and pin straight. She would describe it to you in the exact same order. Kalli doesn’t really mind her hair; she just goes about throwing it out of her face when it gets in the way. Most times she’ll have a piece of ribbon or string in case she needs to tie it back otherwise on a day to day basis she wears almost nothing in it.

As for clothing she’s usually pretty stylish, not that she’ll care to take that comment from anyone. Her shirts start with a durable leather corset style shirt which is then accessorized with flowing fabrics (usually white). If the weather is colder she does have a heavier but short white jacket, bought from Saulmin (so the fabric is manmade), with an oversized hood.

Her neck can always be spotted with a tribal hemp necklace tied around it, the last thing she ever received from her mother before she was abandoned. Other than the necklace the only other thing adorns her neck area are her white tribal markings which lace around her collar bone and onto her shoulder blades.

As for bottoms, this is where Kalli get’s intricate. First off, underneath everything else she wears a tight white legging that reaches to her knees. This is for warmth and comfort when she’s exerting herself. On top of that she wears looser Capri style pants that are made of a durable fabric (o yay durable! This is to avoid shopping, for those of you who care to know). Then gracing her hips is a pair of loose white shorts. Pants on pants action! For decoration she has a variety of handmade belts which often hold a variety of objects. Her quiver is most always strapped across her shoulder so her belt holds extra items; maps, bottles etc. For the final round of accessories she wears a series of white and brown bangles around her ankles. Because she is a Viera she wears no shoes. Bare feet make a world go round!

{{ Tell a Tale ;;

Life for Kalli was never a complicated affair. For her mother she did cause trouble like any young thing within the world. For her father she caused some disrespect to come to the family but it was nothing short of new.

The day that Kalli was old enough to stand on her own two feet was the day that she started to live each day as if it were her last. For her family she made every day an adventure. Sure their games may have been the same. Hopscotch or Hide and Go Seek are games that don’t often change. But Kalli made the effort to make things different. She uses branches for squares one day, played with different people and tried her best to do different things every day. She had a down pact method of how to keep each day different. Variety was an easy thing for her to accomplish, even at such a young and ripe age.

As a small and young Viera she watched the small population of her clan complain about the lack of change. It was obvious to see that they were fed up of the 'same old same old' lifestyle. They went about the same routines every day and it saddened Kalli that the fifty or so Viera around her were bored. Some days she could admit that there was nothing new to do but for Kalli she didn’t allow boredom to control her life. She was bubbly and social at a young age but obviously that changed.

It was during her middle aged awkwardness when Kalli’s personality came into shape. As most young things do she followed local trends. At thirteen she finally found a little bit of an opinion within herself. At twelve years old the whisper of Thralla had graced her ears and despite her age she believed what had been spoken to her. All this occured despite every other member in her family’s opinion. To them Oedeffes showed promise to their culture.

At fourteen things didn’t change in that domain. Her family had made occasional visits to the large sky port of Saulmin. Kalli found that she never enjoyed herself in the bustle of the crowds and loud noises. Although they had the opportunity to buy a variety of new objects that they couldn’t make themselves; to Kalli the trips they made simply weren’t worth it.

By the time she was halfway through her teenage hood the 'choppers', as she called them, began to move into the dRee forest. The choppers were industrialists coming from the sky port who looked to clear cut areas of trees. To Kalli, who had always lived and been one with nature, it was an atrocity. The Viera people within the region were in uproar as soon as the men arrived but it didn’t stop them. They had papers, they claimed, with orders to clear cut trees for production in Saulmin. Chain saws resonated for days until to Kalli’s dismay, the choppers moved into the village where she lived and started to cut down the trees in which people were living.

In the midst of trying to run away the inevitable happened; a tree fell onto to Kalli and did not permit her any mobility. At fifteen she knew barely anything about magic at all; her soul knowledge was only about spells, not how to perform them. In fear her clan had fled and so Kalli was left behind. Her family had abandoned her. So in the end she was left to cope with the agonizing pain of having a leg crushed under a tree. Kalli spent two days clawing at the wood. When the choppers finally claimed the trees she was freed. Having dealt with a sinister pain she fled on her own further into the dRee forest than she had ever been. She forgot about her family and left them to go about their lives. She fixed herself up the best that she could and started over. It was unknown how she survived and for almost a year Kalli often questioned why someone or something would allow her to live through such agony. However it seemed that fate had deemed her unworthy of death just yet and so she moved on with her life and continued rebuilding.

Life for Kalli was simple. She hunted for her meals and did everything by hand. It was a lifestyle she adored and with lifes essentials surrounding her she only made trips to the Sky Port to collect books and other items for her learnings in magic. Years went by and she lived each day as it came. Her knowledge about magic came about slowly, as did her skills in archery (although the basics had been given to her throughout her childhood).

Upon making the rare voyage to Saulmin to find more books or scrolls about the Esuna spells,
she was kidnapped. Although her hunting skills proved to help her often in avoiding others this time she was taken. Like the events that transpired after the arrival of the choppers, this one was deemed inevitable. And yet somewhere inside of Kalli, she let this happen. Perhaps something inside of her allowed her to let go.

{{ Hold a Mirror ;;

When you pick up a gentle warm and fuzzy bunny in your arms it nuzzles into the nook of your arm and cuddles. That or it bites you, which is what Kalli would do if she was a bunny. And even as a Viera that is her state of mind; sassy, spiteful, witty, impatient and yet somewhat kind (underneath the hard exterior).

As a Viera Kalli is connected to nature. To be within the confinement of a forest surrounded by trees is, in all words, where she feels at home. And her simple lifestyle within nature reflects every aspect of her personality. To begin, she’s old fashioned. Call it the Granny lifestyle. Kalli prefers doing everything herself and in short this means, hunting for her meals, growing her own vegetables, using goats to trim the grass etc. To everyone who has ever known her the first thing you learn is how anti-technologic a Viera can be. Kalli hates having a machine do things for her. To her, in the simplest of terms, if you can do yourself it will be more efficiently done.

Along with her ‘Granny’ lifestyle Kalli is extremely independent. Nothing about her speaks team player because throughout her entire life trust has been an issue, as has respect. So, if you don’t have the simplest capability of gracing and speaking to her like any being should then she won’t hesitate slapping you in the face. This even includes if you are of higher authority than her. She just doesn’t hesitate. Which isn’t really a bad thing if you think about it. When Kalli sets her mind to anything she won’t hesitate to accomplish it, no matter how long it takes.

The first time that anyone meets Kalli it’s easy to see that she does have trust issues. She’s quiet, skittish, and not hesitant to curse out loud. But crack the first layer of many and you’ll find that she is an intelligent being. However she will keep herself sheltered. Kalli doesn’t go about having outbursts in front of everyone and doing the pity call. She keeps her emotions in a bottle and expresses them through her actions. But if you do manage to piss her off enough, then, a war of words breaks out. She’ll tell just about anyone off, here again we learn that she doesn’t hesitate.

Beneath all the layers of trust issues, spite and sassy flare lays a gentle side to Kalli that most never get to uncover. Her pity level for those who use emotions to get people’s attention is zero. She'll mutter something under her breath most times and waltz off to do something productive. However her pity level for those wounded, dying, suffering, or in pain goes up because she herself was a near death situation during her childhood. Kalli resents seeing people wracked with actual physical pain. Her knowledge of magic revolves around helping those deal with pain. Yes she is spiteful. Yes she is short tempered. But Kalli has a heart. It just takes awhile for people to find it.

As for quirks and perks Kalli has a long list of small things that make her a funny character. When she laughs the tiniest snort comes out when she goes to take a deep breath. Her temper flares on a regular basis. Her ‘no hesitation’ lifestyle often brings her into more chaos. Lastly, Kalli’s ‘Granny’ lifestyle isn’t exactly common amongst a population so excited for technological advancement. Her alignment to Thralla is something that she believes in simply because for the first twelve years of her life she made every day different herself and she didn’t need technology to make things exciting.

{{ Political Standpoint ;;

At the moment that the whisper came and graced Kalli’s large graceful ears she knew where she stood. Despite her parents instant go along with the charade of Oedeffes and his technologic advancements Kalli stepped away from it and did everything she could to avoid him. His speeches, she found, could be truth or could be lies. His advancing technology the way he did was satisfying, since for the first half of her life nothing changed. But Kalli was never one who liked change and its enormities. She found, that even though new things didn’t come around, not every day was the same. And it is for that reason that she stays to Thralla’s side. A true being can find change in a day without technologic aid. Not every day has to be the same and if it is the same that is the fault of the ones who live in it.

{{ Theme Song ;; Your Guardian Angel ► Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
{{ Username ;;

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