RPC Library - User contributions [en]

Moltove Mon'tova

2016-11-09T21:15:07Z

Moltove: /* A Realm Reborn */

Moltove Mon'tova

2016-11-09T21:14:51Z

Moltove: /* Heavensward */

Moltove Mon'tova

2016-11-09T21:11:42Z

Moltove:

File:Moltscholarava.png

2016-11-09T21:10:49Z

2014-12-26T15:24:33Z

Moltove: updates

Patch Notes:<spoiler>
This wiki is currently going under renovations. As you can see, it's pretty well filled out, but it's a little messy and outdated. There are more updates on the way and more/edited history that will be added soon. Ish.
Dec 26, '24
*Been pretty lazy. overhauling this again.
</spoiler>
----
Visit Molt's Journal! [http://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/character/319702/blog/]
----

'''Moltove Mon'Tova''' ''(Pronunciation:Molt-tahv mon-toe-vah)'' 
Moltove was a successful wandering merchant turned adventurer. He still maintains his merchant status, registered with the Ul'Dah Trade and Commerce and pawns his wares, albiet more sparsely. His wares usually include basic amenities such as potions and supplies, and a fine selection of Aetheric weapons, though one product of his sets himself apart from most other arm dealers-- Materia. The stones set themselves apart from the lower, clouded quality easily found adventuring, as high quality, pristine and even more powerful stones that are in such great demand. Where he found or made these products are a trade secret, and few even know of these products due to their blemished background.

Molt himself is an average Wildwood Elezen. Average body, normal looks, everything about him seems what would be normal by Erozean standard. There's really only three things that set him apart in a crowd of Elezen, and that would be his dark, red hair, the weapons he carries to arm himself with and also how he uses them. 

{{Infobox-character
| name = Moltove Mon'Tova
| image = moltava.png
| imagewidth = 300
| caption = ''' --- '''
| title = Basic Information
| gender = Male
| race = Elezen
| clan = Wildwood
| citizenship = Ul'Dah
| grand company = Maelstorm
| stat_1 = Age
| stat_1_value = 32
| stat_2 = Nameday
| stat_2_value = 10th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon
| stat_3 = Guardian
| stat_3_value = [[Oschon, the Wanderer]]
| stat_4 = Lineage Guardian
| stat_4_value = [[Menphina, the Lover]]
| stat_5 = Occupation
| stat_5_value = Registered Arms Dealer, Adventurer
| stat_6 = OOC Profile
| stat_6_value = [[User:Moltove]]
}}

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Character</div>==

===Appearance===
'''Height and Weight:''' 6 fulms, 8 ilms | +/-220 ponz

'''Body:''' Decent muscular build found on most Elezen.

'''Hair:''' Red; rarely seen as around shoulder-length, but usually pulled up and held with a leather binding.

'''Eyes:''' Green. When without glasses or medication, they will literally fog in the pupils, the left eye especially. It would be rare to see this, however.

'''Skin:''' Slight tan, pale in comparison to most Wildwood Elezen, more akin to Duskwights.

'''Clothing:'''
On his torso he favors a simple, laced but loose tunic. This tunic is chosen for breathe-ability under the sometimes grueling Ul'Dah sun, and often has hidden pockets. He wears a second layer underneath; a simple cloth just to cover one side of his chest. There are usually straps around his arms to keep the baggy sleeves out of the way, and leather fingerless gloves are always employed for protection and mobility. On a day-to-day basis, he does not wear gloves, and reserves them for adventuring or traveling.

On his waist he carries several belts with several more pouches, sometimes covered with a wide red sash used to hide what he has on him. These pouches carry everything between Gil to herbal remedies and ingredients. No matter his weapon of choice is at that moment, a subtle dagger in-sheath rests across his lower back. His slacks are usually loose, while reinforced with leather to add adequate protection for his legs without sacrificing mobility. It's quite warm, sometimes, but better to be slightly uncomfortable than dead. His boots are no different in that way, though they are often caligae or jackboots.

'''Jewelry:''' He usually wears two rings, one a signet of Oschon and the other a fragment of Dalamud. A necklace as well, an ornate piece of aetheryte on a gold chain. It had been crafted some time ago, and made into the shape of an Aetheryte gate.

'''Marks:''' One tattoo on his chest, alluding to the Order of the Stormguard, and a scar that splits his left eyebrow. While small, it notably cuts one third of the way in from the right of the brow.

===Other===
He is mostly blind in his left eye, his right eye is less than perfect as well, and both will cloud if he does not take certain medications. He always carries an aetheric pair of spectacles that restores most of his sight in both eyes, but without them the effects of not having mentioned lenses will increase the cloudiness steadily. He's not sure if the blindness is permanent, but since he was given the medication, he has never stopped to find a cure.

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Inventory</div>==
===On Hand===
* '''Father's Mask of Night:''' This mask, reminiscent of old-style Rogues, was once worn by his father on his escapades around the globe. Retired of such shenanigans when he met his wife, Molt had inherited this artifact from his father when he became of age.

''This mask allows Molt to see normally, just as his spectacles do, as the mask's enchantment
boosts the wearer's actual vision (+Acc). Those who can see normally reap the perk of sharper
vision and their strikes ring more true. Both Molt and a normal person can benefit being
able to see clearly in the dark with this mask.''

* '''Mother's Aetheryte Pendulum''' When Molt was little, he was told stories of this necklace, to always attune himself to it so whenever him and his mother were separated, he could 'wish' himself back-- but it would have to take all his strength. Even as an adult, it took an incredible amount of anima and stamina to teleport to it to find it.

''This necklace was crafted by a master goldsmith. The crafter shaped the chunk into a model replica of an
Old Gridanian aetheryte gate, including the golden fixings.
It allows the user to attune to the aetheryte piece. The size of the aetheryte still permits teleportation,
though with repetitive attuning exercise and extreme amounts of anima. There is a limited number of
'signatures' the aetheryte can hold onto, and it is unknown if any more exist on it still.''

* '''Deaspected Crystals (9)'''
Translucent crystals that had lost their elemental charge over five cycles ago, during the chaos and turmoil Atomos had unleashed upon Eorzea before Dalamud's full descent. Molt is currently attempting to assess its worth as a full crystal in Gil, magics or Alchemy; whichever bears the most reward. It has led to a project devoted to finding a way to create the fabled Lunar Curtain and its possible affects and applications. There is a section in his dossier that is dedicated to this research. In it, a loose page can be found with this inscription written upon it;

Unaspected crystals ground into a fine powder that, when cast in the air,
form a magical barrier by means of absorbing free-roaming aetherial particles
and concentrating them in a single point.
- ''Unknown, p. 734''

* '''(Potions and Basic Ingredients)''' In many of his pouches contain several vials of potions and elixirs, antidotes and poisons, and a few ingredients to create more alike.

* An Old Gil Piece: This Gil Piece, though insignificantly unchanged from times past, represents its age with dents, scrapes and seemingly immovable dirt from its crevasses. This was recovered by Molt when starting the recovery of a lost fort of the Stormguard and has been kept on him since.

* ''' Eye Drops+ (HQ) ''' This specially created medicine combats Molt's blindness. Carrying many at a time, each vial is sealed with wax and tapped, and usually set in their own pouch carefully. Molt has fully memorized the recipe and creates a new batch everyday, and ensures he has a stash in each city-state and also in Thal's Respite.

===Stored Away===

===Lost or Passed On===

* Charcoal Etchings of Stormguard Notes and Drawings: These notes were sketched over by Molt when he visited the lost keep of the Stormguard on his own. It is all for naught as it was lost, presumably destroyed in the ruins of Ul'Dah when Bahamut attacked. Anyone who found these would not be able to read it, or make out any sketches due to the curse of the Stormguard Curse.

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Personality</div>==

===Tendencies===
* '''Fears:'''
* Breaking his glasses
* Blows to the head
* Bee or Hornet-like vilekin
* His age
* Muskets and other violent projectiles

* '''Talents:'''
* Speed and dexterity, as expected of most Elezen
* Mercantile skills are great assets he has honed. He could sell fire to a candle if you'd let him
* Thievery skills
* Alchemy
* Botany
* Man, like...three songs on the lute!

* '''Likes:'''
* Food (Just...all of it)
* Fine arts (music, paintings, ect...)
* Nature
* Being solitary
* Being in a close-knit group

* '''Dislikes:'''
* Corrupt figures with power or wealth
* People who talk but cannot produce evidence of their skill or promise
* Fighting person to person unnecessarily
* Loud , sharp noises or musket shots
* Fish

* '''Hobbies:''' Over the past six cycles, he has picked up a few hobbies. It's not uncommon for him to pull over his caravan to look at the scenery and pick ingredients, a side-effect from working at the Phrontistery. Alchemy is most certainly his favorite hobby.

===Behavior===
* '''Demeanor:''' Molt is a pleasant person, and one would say easy going. He is a hard worker and strives to complete tasks presented to him to the best of his full ability-- or pay someone to get it done so. On a bad day, he is quick to snap and easy to anger, though would still maintain enough cool to sell you what you don't even need or otherwise remain...mostly polite. He has recluse tendencies from time to time, though.

When he thinks no one is paying him any attention, he can often be heard talking to himself about a task at hand.

* '''Outlook:''' Molt's true outlook is bleak. He is unsure where the world is going to go, and what's next for him. He tries hard to realize that the worst is over- Eorzea survived Bahamut, after all-- and that there's only one way to go, and that's up.

* '''Voice:''' Firm and masculine, with a touch of airy. Known to mutter, stutter or fumble over his words at times if uneasy, but when he's peddling potions or important lies, this is next to non-existent.

* '''Mind:''' Intelligent, though lacking in any kind of ambition other than personal gain, which is certainly a positive route to take, though he's just not quite convinced yet of what it truly means to be an adventurer. He is quick witted, but lacks clarity at times as his mind races with his usually long to-do lists. Planning is planning about future plans to him. Meditation has always been a part of his life, though not as much as the past five cycles. Since then, he has stopped meditating, but yearns for the day he can find the time to unwind.

* '''Drunk:''' Molt's easygoing attitude shines through brilliantly when drunk. He's an easy target to get information out of or start a brawl with in this state. He will only fight fisticuffs while drunk; while sober he would claim to never having such a desire. Molt will soak up any and all attention you give him in this state, and will generally be more inclined to do odd things to win someone's favor.

===Other===
Between the age of 12 and 18, his outlook on life was far more worse off. He was able to use his hatred for those around him at this time to become quite the trained fighter, but as soon as he was able to escape the life, he did so without looking back. After working several cycles at the Phrontistery in Ul'Dah, he vowed to start fresh with a better outlook...and then Dalamud lowered his expectations down once more. After five more cycles, he has slowly been building his life, and outlook, to something more positive and healthy.

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Combat</div>==
===Armor===
Molt wears leathers. It's a fairly simple concept-- Adequate protection for those inclined for speed or maneuverability. This can be a bit disappointing at times, as scale and chain mail offer so much more protection, but it's something Molt has stood by for so long. He has taken quite fondly of a mythril chain-link shirt- certainly not as light-weight as leather, but lighter than most metals and just as strong.

The call of the Adventurer has fallen to Molt's ears as of late, and let's not forget all the traveling one must do when a merchant. Molt had commissioned for special leather armor to help him in case he's just not fast ''enough''. Most pieces of his leather armors has some sort of mythril plating to help protect those vital points in his body. It isn't much, but adds to the armor just enough to save himself from a mismatched, otherwise fatal, fight.

<spoiler> ((AN to Self: Update once more Rogue/Ninja gear revealed, or at least figure out what gear group ROG falls in, as it should be STR, but some of the abilities look pretty flashy and spell-like.))</spoiler>

===Weapons===
Molt can sometimes be seen with several different weapons.

* '''Dual Daggers:''' Molt absolutely adores the idea of dual blades. This concept had not quite reached the city-states, until there were talks of the Rogue's Guild making a return to Limsa Lomisa, so it was not something he carried around often. Without a formal guild to train with, a few visits to the Gladiator guild, and from training as a Pugilist for so many cycles, there is a bit of a fine line he is able to erase and train on his own. He has no particular favored daggers, though has collected quite a few varieties.

* '''Guisarme:''' Molt added to his collection a black guisarme found lodged high up on a wall in the Arum Vale. As soon as he saw it, he vowed to make it his. After a week of camping outside the cave system to try to get it down (and avoid breathing in the Gold Bile), he finally succeeded, though not without honing his Jump ability. It is rather similar to any other guisarme, but the 'trip hook', as he calls it, is more exaggerate d and the blade itself seems to be shaped like a mouth. There is an engraved sort of eye on both sides, eluding to a jackal of some type. He prefers this over the one dimensional spear or bulky lance, or over-complicated halberd, after running his own comparisons. He is quite proficient as a lancer, training over the past six cycles, though only when visiting Gridania, so he is certainly far from the best.

* '''Longbow:''' An admitted weak spot for Molt, the longbow is one of the weapons he seems to have neglected the most, with only recent dabbling with it. This is a cultural weapon he never was in touch with, but tried his hand at it. It currently serves him in hunting and target practice on his travels thus far.

===Specializations (Classes)===
* '''Pugilist:''' Molt is an accomplished pugilist, training since he was around 12 cycles old. He has slowed down using this method of fighting, but it is still something he practices weekly, if not every other day if he is either near the Pugilist's Guild or away from prying eyes. Underground fighting rings has taught him even the most dirtiest secrets to winning a match. To be able to fight with his fists, he does not like to wear much armor at all.

* '''Rogue:''' While the Rogue's Guild was absent from Limsa, Molt started his own training regimen, and became proficient with dual blades and trickery. This is his most preferred means of combat, but due to the stigmata of this unconventional fighting, it is something to be kept secret until the guild returns. He will wear a sash to cover the dagger at the back of his waist not only because of this, but to also have the upper hand in any confrontation.

*'''Lancer and Dragoon''' Molt is proficient as a lancer, between visiting Gridania and training with the Order of the Stormguard. He showed a lot of promise, and was to be taught in the ways of the Dragoon, but the training halted unexpectedly when the Order mysteriously died out once again.

===Weapon Skills===
Gen descriptions of specific weapon skills or unique feats.
*Jump
*Shadow Thrust

<spoiler> AN: Will work on this at least once I have a computer again -.-;) </spoiler>

===Hard Mode===
Being trapped in a fight where there are extremely loud noises, a panic-induced rage will build inside him and he will have an unpredictable behavior about him. While he may swing with more true strikes, he is bound to be more careless about what he does, only aiming to end what he is faced with and stop whatever loud noise is being broadcasted, as though like a coeurl trapped in a corner. Gunshots are the worst in this way, and will cause him to go ballistic.

===Strengths and Weaknesses===
* '''Strengths:'''

Moltove can use his speed against slow enemies to quickly overpower them. Having training in a few different weapons, there is no weapon disadvantages he can't work around-- assuming he came prepared. This comes especially handy when traveling by caravan with all of his weapons- an unfortunate lone bandit will find himself bested by dual blades, a small gang of bandits will find a polearm guarding its owner's loot with ease. This becomes much more easier with inexperienced bandits with the correlated rise in crime within the past six cycles. Molt is certainly in his element when not defending a caravan or chocobo, as it's one less thing to worry about, though.

Moltove can heal his own wounds when out of combat, albeit a bit slowly than most with the gift of conjury. A bit of alchemical know-how can surely make up for the lack of skill in this area.

* '''Weaknesses:'''

While Molt can certainly defend himself well enough in combat, it is still possible to overwhelm him if his oppressor uses a great axe or other heavy weapon. Even more, due to only wearing reinforced leather, once a hit lands, from any blade, Molt sustains damage easier than one with plate. Thusly, with a few well-placed strikes, Molt will be down for the count. When traveling with his caravan, it only becomes a distraction to defend and a large group of people have the ability to take advantage of this. In addition, Molt is not the best at any weapon craft, so it is possible to overcome any weapon advantages Molt may hold if one were very skilled with what they use.

If his glasses are knocked off or broken, Molt forgets that he is already blind, and will panic. He tends to protect his head more than one would normally, and thus will leave openings for a fast opponent to curve the strike to his arms or even chest or legs. If faced with loud noises, Molt will do anything to stop it or escape the area.

Moltove lacks the ability to heal, much less conjure protective shells, during battle. His conjury training was just enough to help him heal in his old line of work, and thus is useless and otherwise untrained unless if he has complete focus and alchemical remedies available. Magic in general is a weak spot, as since he is not inclined himself, he doesn't exactly know what to defend against or how.

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Relationships and Affiliations</div>==
===Family===
Moltove came from a unique lineage. His grandfather had married a Duskwight, despite both parent's great disdain, as Duskwight and Wildwood alike we're keen on keeping their blood lines pure. Some time ago, this couple sought to unite the clans in a series of political movements. When not but very few of the Elezen even considered, the couple decided to marry to show that nothing would befall them. There is no other record of such a marriage, and even their own is not officially written in any document of history.

To celebrate their unorthodox union, their first born was given a surname that combined that of their own. While no Duskwight nor Wildwood ever share a surname, there are very few, if any at all who even combined two opposite surnames.

Moltove's parents recognized this and thought similarly, though Tomaux, Moltove's father, was not so lucky in enchanting a Duskwight; nonetheless, to celebrate his parent's bravery, he had named his and his wife's child a sort of mix between his first name with Valarie's, who is Molt's mother. The result did not sound quite as good, so instead they had named their child Moltove, in recognition that their child will know that love knows no bounds, and that despite cultural differences, anyone should be pleased to name or even do as they wish in their lives, regardless of cultural barriers.

*'''Father:''' Tomaux Mon`Tova ''(Deceased)''

*'''Mother:''' Valerie Serielle ''(Deceased)''

*'''Siblings:''' Only Child

===Friends===

* '''Seraphine and Arydin Cerius:''' Highguards of the Order of the Stormguard, these two helped Molt walk a more meaningful path in life and to get him interested in the outside world. Despite their disappearance, Molt wishes to one day thank them for the training he received from the both of them, however brief it may have been. Six cycles have passed since mentioning of them, and there's no telling where they are-- but for now, the tattoo and his memories of them are clear indicators that they are (or at least Seraphine) still alive.

* '''Aylis Crescent''': An interesting person, Molt had always thought. They met a couple of times at Thal's Respite and talked philosophy. Molt, never caring for such a thing, began to start thinking of the meaning of life and death on his own, inevitably changing his negative stance on the Twelve to be curious of [[Nymeia, the Spinner]] and [[Oschon, the Wanderer]]. Otherwise, she was just a Warden, just as he was, and was in good standing with Sera and Arydin. His only regret is not being able to get to know her before her own disappearance.

* '''Shurin Mizune:''' A former Sworn to the Order, Molt had no choice but to try to trust him, despite Shurin's mess off a past with the Order. When fellow members if the Guard began to dissapear, Molt was able to sneak an Order conversation or status update here or there with him, but after the Full Cold Moon Gala six cycles ago, Molt has yet to see Shurin again, and at what cost if the last time he only briefly mentioned details on Sera and Aylis' whereabouts?

* '''Sienna Skye:'''This girl seemed easy to get around with and break the ice with-- at least at death galas. Molt was able to lighten up at the party because of her, and wherever she is, he hopes she made it out of that ordeal alright.

* '''Gerik Aston:''' As far as Molt is concerned, this brute, though seeming shy of his size and eating portions, is Molt's hero. From what Molt can remember, he was attacked by one of those four-legged, winged beasts that had struck the gala. When Molt recovered, he looked up and saw a giant splotch of grey he thought could have been the only thing to trample the beast so easily. Of course, the group they were around were all fighting the same beasts, but it's easier to thank the most likely person you see to save you.

* '''Eva Ianeira:''' She initiated and assisted in healing a lot of the injured people with Molt at the Gala. Her demeanor seemed easy-going, though a bit proper, but with meteors crashing down, who can truly tell?

* '''Shiro Armada:''' Another person Molt worked with while healing others. She was great help and was glad to see so many people still compassionate enough to help those in need while in a crisis. Admitting, this person helped Molt reconsider to study the healing arts, if at least somewhat.

===Linkshells===
'''Order of the Stormguard (Inactive):'''
[[File:Oftsg.png|100px|left]]
Moltove was a relatively new member of the ancient Order of the Stormguard. Very fast did he become a Warden, and was said to help make way for rebuilding a lost keep and help reclaim the order to this secret society's former glory.

After the leader fell to critical injury, she was rushed out to an unknown island, outside of Aldenard, and the Order was unofficially disbanded. You see, if the leader falls, all memories of the Order will be wiped from all members, and its secrets will be kept safe perhaps another time when the Order deems a new leader ready to take on the challenge. Thus, the surviving members in Eorzea of the Order have their memory still to this day, suggesting that while the leader is far away, she may yet live on. At least...for now. At this time, Molt is unsure if there are any other survivors, as the Linkpearl he received from his time with them was damaged in the Calamity, due to the aetheric disturbances. The only thing he knows for sure is that Seraphine is out there somewhere.

After not having contact for over six cycles, he is not quite sure if he would resume the call of the Order, but for now he waits idly by, for the day when the call to arms once again shows itself. It's either that, or he wakes up with no tattoo, nor memory of the Order and he's unsure which will come first. Every day he tests the Linkpearl, once in the morning and once in the evening often at different times in hopes of hearing someone amid the constant static the device emits. So far he has heard two voices, but was unable to confirm anything due to the intermittent signal.

===Free Company===
* '''The Adventure League of Eorzea:''' After answering the call of an adventurer, he caught wind of a formidable adventuring company that roamed the land and sought to help each other out. A stranger to true adventuring, he sought appealed to one Rikitiki Tavatiki in hopes to gain a worthwhile support group with like interests. Adventuring did end up coming to Molt easily enough, but between that and his current responsibilities, he kept himself busy and from interacting as much as he would have liked with them until recently, where he hopes to finally form a solid bond with them.

===Other Associations (?)===

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">The Rumor Mill</div>==

<div style="border:1px solid rgb(255, 255, 255); padding:8px">
<div style="padding:10px 25px; background: rgb(15, 201, 89); color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">'''► Player Rumors (Rumors personally written by other PC's. Please feel free to drop a line!)'''</div>
* "I think he might have a bit of a knife fetish. Perhaps worth looking in to~" -- [[Xenedra Ambreaus]]
* "..." --???
* "..." --???

<div style="padding:10px 25px; background: rgb(15, 201, 89); color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">
'''► Common Rumors (Easily overheard):'''</div>
* "That guy sure loves kids-- I've seen him in the alley sometimes, giving potions or food out to the orphan kids. How admirable!"

* "Speaking of potions, I think he worked at the Phrontistery! From what I hear, he's good but never got anywhere in there."

* "Isn't he a merchant? Yeah, that's right! I see him traveling on a chocobo caravan between Limsa, Ul'Dah and Gridania selling weapons and such!"

* "The things he sells go for a high price-- I wonder why that is, especially considering that they seem...well, worn."

* "Aye, but I think there's somethin' special about them arms of his, if'n ye take my drift..."

<div style="padding:10px 25px; background: rgb(242, 160, 18); color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">
'''► Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear):'''</div>

* "I've talked to a guy, who knows a girl, who knew a guy who said that red-headed guy uses daggers, but it certainly doesn't seem like he's doing any Gladiator training, if you know what I mean!"

* "I heard he wants to leave the merchant business. Too bad he makes a bit too much money for him to just let go...greed binds all, it seems..."

* "I heard arms and potions are not the only thing he sells-- Materia, but only to certain clients!"

<div style="padding:10px 25px; background: rgb(172, 32, 32); color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">
'''► Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard):'''</div>
* "He's a formidable fist-fighter, but you couldn't tell-- that's why I used to bet on his scrawny ass in the Underground!!"

* "I heard that he didn't just ''find'' those weapons...and the materia is somehow related to it!"

* "I've seen him pick pocket before. But when I was about to confront him, he placed the purse in some kid's hands and left. That's noble and all, but why does he steal when he has money?"

</div>

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">History</div>==

'''((Work in Progress, still adding! Still editing!))'''
===Sixth Astral Era===
'''Born (Cycle 1547)'''
<spoiler>
The hills in the [[plains]] were still and settled underneath the pink glow of dawn. No sound filled the air louder than the occasional curious 'kweh' from the nearest village sitting humbly by the tranquil [[river]]. you could even hear the soft chirps of the birds in the distance, flitting playfully between the leaves and moving with ease through the branches. Once in a while the raucous call of the [[opopo]] would add their own flair to the symphony that is dawn, though it was a bit early for even them. The wind hardly blew at all, an anti-climatic precursor to the day, despite what one newl family may know.

add add add
</spoiler>

'''School-age (Age:5)'''
<spoiler>
Molt is made fun of for being different and quirky. The red hair doesn't help (awkward ginger syndrome). Shed light on schooling in Gridania, mainly focusing on the playground behind Carpenter's Guild.

</spoiler>

'''Gridania Incident (Age:10)'''
<spoiler>
For age 10, Molt's dad can demonstrate how to protect yourself from the Ixali </spoiler>

'''Fall of Ala Mhigo (Age:10-11)'''
<spoiler>
***The takeover was not violent.....gotta fix this some***

When the Garleans took hold of Ala Mhigo, the people in the surrounding areas thought the grueling empire's iron fist would stay clenched around the lost city. Taken by surprise, they underestimated this as the Garlean iron fist of oppression would outstretch its horrifying claws to surrounding villages. Platoons of soldiers would march over the plains of Gyn Abania, lead by their monstrous centurions, killing all in their wake as though these men and women were the fingers of such an iron fist, outstretched and ready to grab everything in its reach.

When they came, they came fast, much sooner than expected. It would seem as though conquering the surrounding area was more important to the Garleans than the simple-minded villagers thought. When they came to the village that hald Molt, Molt's own father was one of the few on the front lines of defense for the village whom combat came as second nature. Admittedly, there were so few people to defend against the massacre to come, but it was a comfort that they held and took pride on as they sworn to protect those trying to flee. It worked, mostly.

Molt's mother was one of the few still attempting to flee when those sworn few were slain. The Garleans pushed through without casualty, and a lone centurion stepped forward, gunblade drawn and ready for more. The sight of a struggling mother with her son seemed almost as though it enraged him, provoking him to take care of this himself. He laid claim to these two, and the rest of the soldiers stood still as an audience waiting to see a work of art drawn on a canvas in front of them.

Pressing forward to the woman, no more than 10 yalms from her, the point of his blade aimed for her body. She was caught in her tracks. Trapped in nothing but an open village square with nothing to duck or dive into. She clutched her son close to her, turning her back towards the enemy. A loud crack resonated around the hills of the village. If there were any soldiers still continuing their killing spree, they all forgot about their own prey and turned to face their superior officer. The officer that would go home at the end of the day to his own loving wife and children, and sit down at a meal and deny anything he had done that day was wrong.

The bullet pierced into Serena's back and she dropped at an instant. Molt landed underneath her and cried for her, screaming for his mother. While fatally injured, she clutched the boy to her chest. He could hear his mother's ragged breathing, her breath wheezing and doused in blood. She cocked her head back to glance behind her and saw the centurion approaching, readying his blade to finish the job. Panicking, she did the only thing she thought even remotely sane in this horrible time. Almost without thought, she shoved Molt's face into the ground and began casting a spell, keeping her hands over her son's eyes. Molt struggled and continued to scream in horror, afraid of what was to come next.

The centurion approached ever-closer, his gunblade aimed for the mother's head, finger on the trigger. He squeezed it, a smile covering his face, concealed by the gruesome mask everyone in Eorzea will come to know. As the trigger pulled, he took in the full view of his kill as though it was just that perfect work of art. There were to loud cracks this time, breaking the silence that fell over the village, breaking the chanting of the sobbing woman, and breaking the unattended cries of this child.

She had completed her spell. Almost. As a result, the second crack was from her hands. While hiding the horrible scene playing in front of her son, she had been casting a blinding spell on him, to protect him from the gruesome image of witnessing her and perhaps his own death. The effect was unique in that while the child had struggled, she was only able to keep one hand over his face; it was over his left eye. The entirety of the spell did not take hold as expected, but backfired by blinding only that eye, causing serious damage from the interruption in casting. While it was to be a variation of a simple spell, she wanted to add time to ensure the child would not come to senses and sight with the monstrous gunblade to his forehead, or to his gut, ready to spill the life from him. Instead of temporary blindness, no matter the time restraint, Molt was instead cursed with what seemed to be permanent blindness in one eye.

The crack coming from the woman and child seemed to startle the centurion. Cautiously, he probed and prodded the corpse of the mother, finally flipping her over to see what happened. The child lay motionless with magicked scorch marks over his face. The soldier took this in for a moment, reflecting. Was this a form of love? Killing your own child to spare him an even worse fate? Disregarding the thought, he shook his head and was satisfied with what he saw. Turning around to face his troops, he gave the signal to wrap up their business and take leave, readying to perform the heinous acts from this village and Twelve knows how many other villages to the next one.

Moltove awoke several bells later, into the setting sun. He could not see but grey misshapen forms out of his right eye, unable to even recognize the loss of sight altogether from his left. For what seemed like many suns he fumbled around, trying to make sense of his village while tripping over cold, wet, fleshy lumps on the ground. He called out, but there was no response. Again, but nothing. To the best of his hindered ability, he gathered supplies, patting around while crawling, finding a loose cloth to bundle them together in. One of the apples he had found kept falling from the sack, so he reverted to carrying it in his arms, though none too soon after finding a sheathed dagger, quickly stashing it in the sack. In reality, only but two bells have passed since he had woken up, and now the night had fell. With no light to guide him, he set off, knapsack in hand, taking each step carefully as he began his adventure alone.

The boy tripped several times, but it did not deter him. He gathered his things once more and continued on, learning from each fall to walk more cautiously, to feel around for better footing.
</spoiler>

'''The Underground Fighting Rings (Age:10-11)'''
<spoiler>
-Ul'dahns are taught at a young age to read peoples character and are thus the best judges of character in Eorzea. This has a lot to do with avoiding getting scammed and knowing who you can scam.

The Dagger Dance: A game made popular in Ul'dah. It consists of three to five players quickly tossing a dagger back and forth. Players are eliminated if they fail to catch the knife or are wounded, and the last player standing wins.
</spoiler>

'''Battle of Silvertear Skies (Age: 16)''' 
When Moltove had climbed the worn, creaking steps from the dark, grunge halls of Ul'Dah's underground premier fight club, he expected to see a clear, crisp night as the day earlier suggested. After losing focus in the previous fight, he wanted the crisp air to fill his lungs before getting stuck down there for the rest of the night. Soon he would be reprimanded, and that made the thought of steppign outside that much more desireable. It had been getting difficult to drown out the sound of the drunken, howling men of below, waging who would come out the victor. Stepping back into the above-ground streets of Ul'Dah usually allowed him a moment's respite to refocus and meditate, and it did nothing but excite him. Upon sliding the rusted barricade from across the door, peering from inside the gate to what he thought to be hell, he soon realized there was something bigger going on.

What seemed like lightning in the distance flashed with rapid pace. A closer look gave away the tell-tale signs of Garlean magitek, hidden in the cloak of the cirrus clouds to the north. Moltove immediately rushed through the alley, wearing only but his normal fighting clothes: light leather bracers, leather chaps and a light, leather harness that exposed most of his chest. He was a sight to see, though not entirely out of the ordinary if he were coming from the Platinum Mirage. Exiting an alley off of the Sapphire exchange, he rushed past bystanders watching the same sight as he, occasionally bumping and shoving through the particularly thick crowds. He made his way to one of the few passageways to lead outside, around the large gate that remained closed what seemed indefinitely.

There, he saw it clearer, looking to the north, and into the skies. Were the Garlean's invading? ''Couldn't be,'' he thought to himself. ''They're already engaged into battle. But with who?''

What seemed like flakes of still-hot ash fell to the ground below the ships, but he could not tell what they were. ''Another Empire with airships? Beasts? They must have been over Mor Dhona,'' Molt thought. He deduced that they weren't as far north as Ishguard, of which he would doubt he would even bare witness. The green specks of light gave away all the Garlean's fleet-- Tall, imposing white mobile units he had seen fly above the desert once in a great while. There was one dark mass that seemed to have given itself away by the amount of ceruleum it was firing in various directions.

Molt was not the only one to be watching this unfold, as countless adventurers and Ul'dah citizens alike were sitting on what seemed to be a giant porch of the great city-state.

"What's going on?!" Molt exclaimed, hoping someone around him would answer. A fair skinned Hyur with dark hair was the only one who answered back. It looked as though he was there for some time with his blanket and lantern. A basket with food seemed to be his companion for the night.

"Well, it looks as though the Garlean's are at it again. They're attacking something over yonder, there." He replied.

"How long has this been going on?"

The Hyur tapped a finger to his chin in consideration, "I'd reckon for several hours now. It started when it was still light out, but the night waits for no-- L-look! There!" he stammered, pointing up to the sky. There was a loud explosion, heard even all the way from the far reaches of the desert, illuminated by a blue beam of light. Something had awoken, and joined the foray.

The massive damage incurred by the airships began to fill the air with smog, hiding the battle from prying eyes, only illuminating a faint blue for those patient to keep their eyes locked at the scene. Now more than ever did it seem to be a terrible sight-- flecks of discarded, burning paper fell from the sky again, falling like gentle, streaking meteors. Molt knew better. They were either ship or beast, but calculating the last explosion, it was likely to be beast, and what beast could be that high but the Scalekin of myths?

The view did not last, as then something large fell from the grace of the smoke and clouds. It was as though it were in slow motion; seconds of waiting for it to hit below felt like bells, yet when it crashed, it hit hard. The bright, volatile ceruleum lit up the sky with a brilliant light, even reaching to the heavens. Molt took a step back as countless others gasped in horror. What was this he was seeing? Why were the Garleans attacking dragons in the north? What happened? Why?

While the crash itself seemed to take minute after minute of horrifying anguish, the explosion and light seemed to have disappeared within mere seconds in comparison. There seemed to be no direct consequences after the fact, and many outside began to wander back into the city to report and gossip about what they saw. None other than Molt seemed to be shaken from what he witnessed that night. Would there be more attacks? A war? Or even, perhaps the end of Garlemald? Surely not, but perhaps they will think twice about attacking something again, and keep to themselves. All of these thoughts ran through Molt's head as he stumbled his way back to the damnable alley from whence he came. He banged on the large, iron door to admit himself back into the even darker underworld than what one could expect from Ul'dah. Climbing down the rotting steps, bracing himself on the moss covered stone walls, his manager met him at the foot of the descent.

"It's about time you got back--you're up next. Better pray to the Twelve and get your ass back in there-- you've got a long way to go!"

Molt indeed prayed that night, for the first time since he was a child.

'''Scar?'''
<spoiler>RIVAL did it.</spoiler>

'''(Age:18)'''
<spoiler> </spoiler>

'''Scar?'''
<spoiler> Rival could have done it at this point, forcing Molt to stop fighting and focus on home.</spoiler>

''' (Age:20)'''
<spoiler> </spoiler>

'''(Age:22)'''
<spoiler> Duh.. </spoiler>

'''The Split (Age:24)'''
<spoiler></spoiler>

===1.0===
'''1.0 (Age:25)'''
<spoiler> </spoiler>

</spoiler>
===The Spoilermity===
'''Meteor (Age:25)'''
<spoiler>
Molt attends the battle of the flats, partly to search for someone, or anyone he may know but mostly on a last ditch effort to prove something to himself and make something of his life-- or last remaining moments of his life. Shortly after the key dropped to the earth is when Molt decided...it wasn't worth dieing over. This is where he obtains a chocobo, and tries to gtfo as fast as possible, relying on Bahamut to take his time flying around (such as his flight of Limsa-- pretty far away). This is not to say there are not any instances of a bucking Chocobo or injuries, but it's general enough for a start.
===The Recovery===
'''The Aftermath (Age:25)'''
<spoiler>

Molt retreats to Thal's Respite; a cave in Thanalan, a common place for an old Stormguard friend to visit and pray. Molt's ideals and even worship changes to Nymeia. A stash of necessities was left behind some time ago, about a day or two's worth, by Shurin and Molt uses them, leaving the cave for the first time a week later. Hungry, he scavenges for what remaining flora and fauna may be around. He does this for about a month, untrusting on what may be happening beyond the fields and canyons of Thanalan.

</spoiler>
'''Cycle 1 (Age:26)'''
<spoiler>

Eventually he returns to Ul'Dah, attempting to reclaim anything he once had in a rented inn room. Noting such destruction, he makes his way to Gridania. Seeing the destruction here, he gives up-- surely Limsa is no better off. He makes a decision in the third or fourth month of the cycle to visit the battleground. While there, he gets an idea that will help him turn a profit in the aftermath of war-- take weapons and armor-- and anything else of value laying around-- and sell them (if it's possible to visit, much less reclaim anything). Possibly a mysterious mark forms on one or both of his arms (No base for this-- stop making things up!) No wait, it'd be for void or shadow spells...in case THF/ASS would ever be released...

-Ul'dah lacks resources compared to other nations, but makes up for it in trading. However since the Garleans blocked trade routes, the merchant population has diminished significantly
source : Styrmoeya

Molt seizes the lack of Garlean pressure on the trading routes
</spoiler>

'''Cycle 2 (Age:27)'''
<spoiler>

He gathers what he can from the lost battlefield and stores it in a hidden location, possibly in the cave he took refuge in. He fixes up the cart he had found not far from the battlefield (the some one he used to transport all those weapons), and makes a pilgrimage. He starts in the plains east of Gridania, near Ala Mhigo, to a location that was leveled some time ago. He spends weeks excavating the site, finding a necklace, presumably his mothers, while camping out or staying a few nights in Ala Mhigo (assuming it's not destroyed). Once satisfied, he takes his pilgrimage and travels the land, staying nowhere twice. Visits even Ishgard-- may have a purpose there, but since it won't be open upon release, and considering Bahamut is a dragon, probably not a good idea. He picks up anything worth selling on the way, stopping sometimes to visit the flora to stock up on ingredients; regents and such.

</spoiler>

'''Cycle 3 (Age:28)'''
<spoiler>

Finishing his journey, he returns to Ul'Dahl to check the progress. There's not much, so focusing on crafting/doctoring biz during the day, he also trains at night. This is probably the time when the Garleans will be sending out forces, so it's also a time to start selling his supplies.

</spoiler>

'''Cycle 4 (Age:29)'''
<spoiler>

Possibly back and forth between Ul'Dah and the Black Shroud/Gridania. He focuses on training, picking up some Black Magic, refines White Magic, and hones his combat with use of a dagger, his fists, and a pole arm, possibly swords. If he did not gain the mysterious mark in Cycle 1, then he instead gets a tattoo, for the hell of it-- he himself is changing from what he once used to be, after all.

</spoiler>

'''Cycle 5 / Pre-ARR [Probably half a year?](Age:29-30)'''
<spoiler>

He hones in on his training. By now, he should have picked up the basics and even advanced skills of a sword and armor smith, since having to sell them requires knowledge, use and practice in the art. His Alchemy should be maxed out, and healing techniques should be comfortable. If he gained the mysterious mark, his black magic training should be more focused on the Umbral/Void/Shadow magicks. This isn't his everyday thing, the magic is just used in his combat skills. Place of residency in ARR is unknown.

</spoiler>

===A Realm Reborn===
'''ARR (Age:30)'''

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Annotations</div>==

Moltove Mon'tova

2014-12-26T15:15:49Z

Moltove: Update

Patch Notes:<spoiler>
This wiki is currently going under renovations. As you can see, it's pretty well filled out, but it's a little messy and outdated. There are more updates on the way and more/edited history that will be added soon. Ish.
Dec 26, '24
*Been pretty lazy. overhauling this again.
</spoiler>
----
Visit Molt's Journal! [http://na.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/character/319702/blog/]
----

'''Moltove Mon'Tova''' ''(Pronunciation:Molt-tahv mon-toe-vah)'' 
Moltove was a successful wandering merchant turned adventurer. He still maintains his merchant status, registered with the Ul'Dah Trade and Commerce and pawns his wares, albiet more sparsely. His wares usually include basic amenities such as potions and supplies, and a fine selection of Aetheric weapons, though one product of his sets himself apart from most other arm dealers-- Materia. The stones set themselves apart from the lower, clouded quality easily found adventuring, as high quality, pristine and even more powerful stones that are in such great demand. Where he found or made these products are a trade secret, and few even know of these products due to their blemished background.

Molt himself is an average Wildwood Elezen. Average body, normal looks, everything about him seems what would be normal by Erozean standard. There's really only three things that set him apart in a crowd of Elezen, and that would be his dark, red hair, the weapons he carries to arm himself with and also how he uses them. 

{{Infobox-character
| name = Moltove Mon'Tova
| image = moltava.png
| imagewidth = 300
| caption = ''' --- '''
| title = Basic Information
| gender = Male
| race = Elezen
| clan = Wildwood
| citizenship = Ul'Dah
| grand company = Maelstorm
| stat_1 = Age
| stat_1_value = 32
| stat_2 = Nameday
| stat_2_value = 10th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon
| stat_3 = Guardian
| stat_3_value = [[Oschon, the Wanderer]]
| stat_4 = Lineage Guardian
| stat_4_value = [[Menphina, the Lover]]
| stat_5 = Occupation
| stat_5_value = Registered Arms Dealer, Adventurer
| stat_6 = OOC Profile
| stat_6_value = [[User:Moltove]]
}}

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Character</div>==

===Appearance===
'''Height and Weight:''' 6 fulms, 8 ilms | +/-220 ponz

'''Body:''' Decent muscular build found on most Elezen.

'''Hair:''' Red; rarely seen as around shoulder-length, but usually pulled up and held with a leather binding.

'''Eyes:''' Green. When without glasses or medication, they will literally fog in the pupils, the left eye especially. It would be rare to see this, however.

'''Skin:''' Slight tan, pale in comparison to most Wildwood Elezen, more akin to Duskwights.

'''Clothing:'''
On his torso he favors a simple, laced but loose tunic. This tunic is chosen for breathe-ability under the sometimes grueling Ul'Dah sun, and often has hidden pockets. He wears a second layer underneath; a simple cloth just to cover one side of his chest. There are usually straps around his arms to keep the baggy sleeves out of the way, and leather fingerless gloves are always employed for protection and mobility. On a day-to-day basis, he does not wear gloves, and reserves them for adventuring or traveling.

On his waist he carries several belts with several more pouches, sometimes covered with a wide red sash used to hide what he has on him. These pouches carry everything between Gil to herbal remedies and ingredients. No matter his weapon of choice is at that moment, a subtle dagger in-sheath rests across his lower back. His slacks are usually loose, while reinforced with leather to add adequate protection for his legs without sacrificing mobility. It's quite warm, sometimes, but better to be slightly uncomfortable than dead. His boots are no different in that way, though they are often caligae or jackboots.

'''Jewelry:''' He usually wears two rings, one a signet of Oschon and the other a fragment of Dalamud. A necklace as well, an ornate piece of aetheryte on a gold chain. It had been crafted some time ago, and made into the shape of an Aetheryte gate.

'''Marks:''' One tattoo on his chest, alluding to the Order of the Stormguard, and a scar that splits his left eyebrow. While small, it notably cuts one third of the way in from the right of the brow.

===Other===
He is mostly blind in his left eye, his right eye is less than perfect as well, and both will cloud if he does not take certain medications. He always carries an aetheric pair of spectacles that restores most of his sight in both eyes, but without them the effects of not having mentioned lenses will increase the cloudiness steadily. He's not sure if the blindness is permanent, but since he was given the medication, he has never stopped to find a cure.

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Inventory</div>==
===On Hand===
* '''Father's Mask of Night:''' This mask, reminiscent of old-style Rogues, was once worn by his father on his escapades around the globe. Retired of such shenanigans when he met his wife, Molt had inherited this artifact from his father when he became of age.

''This mask allows Molt to see normally, just as his spectacles do, as the mask's enchantment
boosts the wearer's actual vision (+Acc). Those who can see normally reap the perk of sharper
vision and their strikes ring more true. Both Molt and a normal person can benefit being
able to see clearly in the dark with this mask.''

* '''Mother's Aetheryte Pendulum''' When Molt was little, he was told stories of this necklace, to always attune himself to it so whenever him and his mother were separated, he could 'wish' himself back-- but it would have to take all his strength. Even as an adult, it took an incredible amount of anima and stamina to teleport to it to find it.

''This necklace was crafted by a master goldsmith. The crafter shaped the chunk into a model replica of an
Old Gridanian aetheryte gate, including the golden fixings.
It allows the user to attune to the aetheryte piece. The size of the aetheryte still permits teleportation,
though with repetitive attuning exercise and extreme amounts of anima. There is a limited number of
'signatures' the aetheryte can hold onto, and it is unknown if any more exist on it still.''

* '''Deaspected Crystals (9)'''
Translucent crystals that had lost their elemental charge over five cycles ago, during the chaos and turmoil Atomos had unleashed upon Eorzea before Dalamud's full descent. Molt is currently attempting to assess its worth as a full crystal in Gil, magics or Alchemy; whichever bears the most reward. It has led to a project devoted to finding a way to create the fabled Lunar Curtain and its possible affects and applications. There is a section in his dossier that is dedicated to this research. In it, a loose page can be found with this inscription written upon it;

Unaspected crystals ground into a fine powder that, when cast in the air,
form a magical barrier by means of absorbing free-roaming aetherial particles
and concentrating them in a single point.
- ''Unknown, p. 734''

* '''(Potions and Basic Ingredients)''' In many of his pouches contain several vials of potions and elixirs, antidotes and poisons, and a few ingredients to create more alike.

* An Old Gil Piece: This Gil Piece, though insignificantly unchanged from times past, represents its age with dents, scrapes and seemingly immovable dirt from its crevasses. This was recovered by Molt when starting the recovery of a lost fort of the Stormguard and has been kept on him since.

* ''' Eye Drops+ (HQ) ''' This specially created medicine combats Molt's blindness. Carrying many at a time, each vial is sealed with wax and tapped, and usually set in their own pouch carefully. Molt has fully memorized the recipe and creates a new batch everyday, and ensures he has a stash in each city-state and also in Thal's Respite.

===Stored Away===

===Lost or Passed On===

* Charcoal Etchings of Stormguard Notes and Drawings: These notes were sketched over by Molt when he visited the lost keep of the Stormguard on his own. It is all for naught as it was lost, presumably destroyed in the ruins of Ul'Dah when Bahamut attacked. Anyone who found these would not be able to read it, or make out any sketches due to the curse of the Stormguard Curse.

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Personality</div>==

===Tendencies===
* '''Fears:'''
* Breaking his glasses
* Blows to the head
* Bee or Hornet-like vilekin
* His age
* Muskets and other violent projectiles

* '''Talents:'''
* Speed and dexterity, as expected of most Elezen
* Mercantile skills are great assets he has honed. He could sell fire to a candle if you'd let him
* Thievery skills
* Alchemy
* Botany
* Man, like...three songs on the lute!

* '''Likes:'''
* Food (Just...all of it)
* Fine arts (music, paintings, ect...)
* Nature
* Being solitary
* Being in a close-knit group

* '''Dislikes:'''
* Corrupt figures with power or wealth
* People who talk but cannot produce evidence of their skill or promise
* Fighting person to person unnecessarily
* Loud , sharp noises or musket shots
* Fish

* '''Hobbies:''' Over the past six cycles, he has picked up a few hobbies. It's not uncommon for him to pull over his caravan to look at the scenery and pick ingredients, a side-effect from working at the Phrontistery. Alchemy is most certainly his favorite hobby.

===Behavior===
* '''Demeanor:''' Molt is a pleasant person, and one would say easy going. He is a hard worker and strives to complete tasks presented to him to the best of his full ability-- or pay someone to get it done so. On a bad day, he is quick to snap and easy to anger, though would still maintain enough cool to sell you what you don't even need or otherwise remain...mostly polite. Otherwise, you could easily see him shouting about selling arms, or other odds and ends, without a care in the world!

When he thinks no one is paying him any attention, he can often be heard talking to himself about a task at hand.

* '''Outlook:''' Molt's true outlook is bleak. He is unsure where the world is going to go, and what's next for him. He tries hard to realize that the worst is over- Eorzea survived Bahamut, after all-- and that there's only one way to go, and that's up.

* '''Voice:''' Firm and masculine, with a touch of airy. Known to mutter, stutter or fumble over his words at times if uneasy, but when he's selling his wares this is next to non-existent.

* '''Mind:''' Intelligent, though lacking in any kind of ambition other than personal gain, which is certainly a positive route to take, though he's just not quite convinced yet of what it truly means to be an adventurer. He is quick witted, but lacks clarity at times as his mind races with his usually long to-do lists. Meditation has always been a part of his life, though not as much as the past five cycles. Since then, he has stopped meditating, but yearns for the day he can drop his mercantile responsibilities and let go.

* '''Drunk:''' Molt's easygoing attitude shines through brilliantly when drunk. He's an easy target to get information out of or start a brawl with him in this state. He will only fight fisticuffs while drunk; while sober he would claim to never having such a desire. Molt will soak up any and all attention you give him in this state, and will generally be more inclined to to do odd things to win someone's favor.

===Other===
Between the age of 12 and 18, his outlook on life was far more worse off. He was able to use his hatred for those around him at this time to become quite the trained fighter, but as soon as he was able to escape the life, he did so without looking back. After working several cycles at the Phrontistery in Ul'Dah, he vowed to start fresh with a better outlook...and then Dalamud lowered his expectations down once more. After five more cycles, he has slowly been building his life, and outlook, to something more positive and healthy.

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Combat</div>==
===Armor===
Molt wears leathers. It's a fairly simple concept-- Adequate protection for those inclined for speed or maneuverability. This can be a bit disappointing at times, as scale and chain mail offer so much more protection, but it's something Molt has stood by for so long. He has taken quite fondly of a mythril chain-link shirt- certainly not as light-weight as leather, but lighter than most metals and just as strong.

The call of the Adventurer has fallen to Molt's ears as of late, and let's not forget all the traveling one must do when a merchant. Molt had commissioned for special leather armor to help him in case he's just not fast ''enough''. Most pieces of his leather armors has some sort of mythril plating to help protect those vital points in his body. It isn't much, but adds to the armor just enough to save himself from a mismatched, otherwise fatal, fight.

<spoiler> ((AN to Self: Update once more Rogue/Ninja gear revealed, or at least figure out what gear group ROG falls in, as it should be STR, but some of the abilities look pretty flashy and spell-like.))</spoiler>

===Weapons===
Molt can sometimes be seen with several different weapons.

* '''Dual Daggers:''' Molt absolutely adores the idea of dual blades. This concept had not quite reached the city-states, until there were talks of the Rogue's Guild making a return to Limsa Lomisa, so it was not something he carried around often. Without a formal guild to train with, a few visits to the Gladiator guild, and from training as a Pugilist for so many cycles, there is a bit of a fine line he is able to erase and train on his own. He has no particular favored daggers, though has collected quite a few varieties.

* '''Guisarme:''' Molt added to his collection a black guisarme found lodged high up on a wall in the Arum Vale. As soon as he saw it, he vowed to make it his. After a week of camping outside the cave system to try to get it down (and avoid breathing in the Gold Bile), he finally succeeded, though not without honing his Jump ability. It is rather similar to any other guisarme, but the 'trip hook', as he calls it, is more exaggerate d and the blade itself seems to be shaped like a mouth. There is an engraved sort of eye on both sides, eluding to a jackal of some type. He prefers this over the one dimensional spear or bulky lance, or over-complicated halberd, after running his own comparisons. He is quite proficient as a lancer, training over the past six cycles, though only when visiting Gridania, so he is certainly far from the best.

* '''Longbow:''' An admitted weak spot for Molt, the longbow is one of the weapons he seems to have neglected the most, with only recent dabbling with it. This is a cultural weapon he never was in touch with, but tried his hand at it. It currently serves him in hunting and target practice on his travels thus far.

===Specializations (Classes)===
* '''Pugilist:''' Molt is an accomplished pugilist, training since he was around 12 cycles old. He has slowed down using this method of fighting, but it is still something he practices weekly, if not every other day if he is either near the Pugilist's Guild or away from prying eyes. Underground fighting rings has taught him even the most dirtiest secrets to winning a match. To be able to fight with his fists, he does not like to wear much armor at all.

* '''Rogue:''' While the Rogue's Guild was absent from Limsa, Molt started his own training regimen, and became proficient with dual blades and trickery. This is his most preferred means of combat, but due to the stigmata of this unconventional fighting, it is something to be kept secret until the guild returns. He will wear a sash to cover the dagger at the back of his waist not only because of this, but to also have the upper hand in any confrontation.

*'''Lancer and Dragoon''' Molt is proficient as a lancer, between visiting Gridania and training with the Order of the Stormguard. He showed a lot of promise, and was to be taught in the ways of the Dragoon, but the training halted unexpectedly when the Order mysteriously died out once again.

===Weapon Skills===
Gen descriptions of specific weapon skills or unique feats.
*Jump
*Shadow Thrust

<spoiler> AN: Will work on this at least once I have a computer again -.-;) </spoiler>

===Hard Mode===
Being trapped in a fight where there are extremely loud noises, a panic-induced rage will build inside him and he will have an unpredictable behavior about him. While he may swing with more true strikes, he is bound to be more careless about what he does, only aiming to end what he is faced with and stop whatever loud noise is being broadcasted, as though like a coeurl trapped in a corner. Gunshots are the worst in this way, and will cause him to go ballistic.

===Strengths and Weaknesses===
* '''Strengths:'''

Moltove can use his speed against slow enemies to quickly overpower them. Having training in a few different weapons, there is no weapon disadvantages he can't work around-- assuming he came prepared. This comes especially handy when traveling by caravan with all of his weapons- an unfortunate lone bandit will find himself bested by dual blades, a small gang of bandits will find a polearm guarding its owner's loot with ease. This becomes much more easier with inexperienced bandits with the correlated rise in crime within the past six cycles. Molt is certainly in his element when not defending a caravan or chocobo, as it's one less thing to worry about, though.

Moltove can heal his own wounds when out of combat, albeit a bit slowly than most with the gift of conjury. A bit of alchemical know-how can surely make up for the lack of skill in this area.

* '''Weaknesses:'''

While Molt can certainly defend himself well enough in combat, it is still possible to overwhelm him if his oppressor uses a great axe or other heavy weapon. Even more, due to only wearing reinforced leather, once a hit lands, from any blade, Molt sustains damage easier than one with plate. Thusly, with a few well-placed strikes, Molt will be down for the count. When traveling with his caravan, it only becomes a distraction to defend and a large group of people have the ability to take advantage of this. In addition, Molt is not the best at any weapon craft, so it is possible to overcome any weapon advantages Molt may hold if one were very skilled with what they use.

If his glasses are knocked off or broken, Molt forgets that he is already blind, and will panic. He tends to protect his head more than one would normally, and thus will leave openings for a fast opponent to curve the strike to his arms or even chest or legs. If faced with loud noises, Molt will do anything to stop it or escape the area.

Moltove lacks the ability to heal, much less conjure protective shells, during battle. His conjury training was just enough to help him heal in his old line of work, and thus is useless and otherwise untrained unless if he has complete focus and alchemical remedies available. Magic in general is a weak spot, as since he is not inclined himself, he doesn't exactly know what to defend against or how.

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Relationships and Affiliations</div>==
===Family===
Moltove came from a unique lineage. His grandfather had married a Duskwight, despite both parent's great disdain, as Duskwight and Wildwood alike we're keen on keeping their blood lines pure. Some time ago, this couple sought to unite the clans in a series of political movements. When not but very few of the Elezen even considered, the couple decided to marry to show that nothing would befall them. There is no other record of such a marriage, and even their own is not officially written in any document of history.

To celebrate their unorthodox union, their first born was given a surname that combined that of their own. While no Duskwight nor Wildwood ever share a surname, there are very few, if any at all who even combined two opposite surnames.

Moltove's parents recognized this and thought similarly, though Tomaux, Moltove's father, was not so lucky in enchanting a Duskwight; nonetheless, to celebrate his parent's bravery, he had named his and his wife's child a sort of mix between his first name with Valarie's, who is Molt's mother. The result did not sound quite as good, so instead they had named their child Moltove, in recognition that their child will know that love knows no bounds, and that despite cultural differences, anyone should be pleased to name or even do as they wish in their lives, regardless of cultural barriers.

*'''Father:''' Tomaux Mon`Tova ''(Deceased)''

*'''Mother:''' Valerie Serielle ''(Deceased)''

*'''Siblings:''' Only Child

===Friends===

* '''Seraphine and Arydin Cerius:''' Highguards of the Order of the Stormguard, these two helped Molt walk a more meaningful path in life and to get him interested in the outside world. Despite their disappearance, Molt wishes to one day thank them for the training he received from the both of them, however brief it may have been. Six cycles have passed since mentioning of them, and there's no telling where they are-- but for now, the tattoo and his memories of them are clear indicators that they are (or at least Seraphine) still alive.

* '''Aylis Crescent''': An interesting person, Molt had always thought. They met a couple of times at Thal's Respite and talked philosophy. Molt, never caring for such a thing, began to start thinking of the meaning of life and death on his own, inevitably changing his negative stance on the Twelve to be curious of [[Nymeia, the Spinner]] and [[Oschon, the Wanderer]]. Otherwise, she was just a Warden, just as he was, and was in good standing with Sera and Arydin. His only regret is not being able to get to know her before her own disappearance.

* '''Shurin Mizune:''' A former Sworn to the Order, Molt had no choice but to try to trust him, despite Shurin's mess off a past with the Order. When fellow members if the Guard began to dissapear, Molt was able to sneak an Order conversation or status update here or there with him, but after the Full Cold Moon Gala six cycles ago, Molt has yet to see Shurin again, and at what cost if the last time he only briefly mentioned details on Sera and Aylis' whereabouts?

* '''Sienna Skye:'''This girl seemed easy to get around with and break the ice with-- at least at death galas. Molt was able to lighten up at the party because of her, and wherever she is, he hopes she made it out of that ordeal alright.

* '''Gerik Aston:''' As far as Molt is concerned, this brute, though seeming shy of his size and eating portions, is Molt's hero. From what Molt can remember, he was attacked by one of those four-legged, winged beasts that had struck the gala. When Molt recovered, he looked up and saw a giant splotch of grey he thought could have been the only thing to trample the beast so easily. Of course, the group they were around were all fighting the same beasts, but it's easier to thank the most likely person you see to save you.

* '''Eva Ianeira:''' She initiated and assisted in healing a lot of the injured people with Molt at the Gala. Her demeanor seemed easy-going, though a bit proper, but with meteors crashing down, who can truly tell?

* '''Shiro Armada:''' Another person Molt worked with while healing others. She was great help and was glad to see so many people still compassionate enough to help those in need while in a crisis. Admitting, this person helped Molt reconsider to study the healing arts, if at least somewhat.

===Linkshells===
'''Order of the Stormguard (Inactive):'''
[[File:Oftsg.png|100px|left]]
Moltove was a relatively new member of the ancient Order of the Stormguard. Very fast did he become a Warden, and was said to help make way for rebuilding a lost keep and help reclaim the order to this secret society's former glory.

After the leader fell to critical injury, she was rushed out to an unknown island, outside of Aldenard, and the Order was unofficially disbanded. You see, if the leader falls, all memories of the Order will be wiped from all members, and its secrets will be kept safe perhaps another time when the Order deems a new leader ready to take on the challenge. Thus, the surviving members in Eorzea of the Order have their memory still to this day, suggesting that while the leader is far away, she may yet live on. At least...for now. At this time, Molt is unsure if there are any other survivors, as the Linkpearl he received from his time with them was damaged in the Calamity, due to the aetheric disturbances. The only thing he knows for sure is that Seraphine is out there somewhere.

After not having contact for over six cycles, he is not quite sure if he would resume the call of the Order, but for now he waits idly by, for the day when the call to arms once again shows itself. It's either that, or he wakes up with no tattoo, nor memory of the Order and he's unsure which will come first. Every day he tests the Linkpearl, once in the morning and once in the evening often at different times in hopes of hearing someone amid the constant static the device emits. So far he has heard two voices, but was unable to confirm anything due to the intermittent signal.

===Free Company===
* '''The Adventure League of Eorzea:''' After answering the call of an adventurer, he caught wind of a formidable adventuring company that roamed the land and sought to help each other out. A stranger to true adventuring, he sought appealed to one Rikitiki Tavatiki in hopes to gain a worthwhile support group with like interests. Adventuring did end up coming to Molt easily enough, but between that and his current responsibilities, he kept himself busy and from interacting as much as he would have liked with them until recently, where he hopes to finally form a solid bond with them.

===Other Associations (?)===

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">The Rumor Mill</div>==

<div style="border:1px solid rgb(255, 255, 255); padding:8px">
<div style="padding:10px 25px; background: rgb(15, 201, 89); color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">'''► Player Rumors (Rumors personally written by other PC's. Please feel free to drop a line!)'''</div>
* "I think he might have a bit of a knife fetish. Perhaps worth looking in to~" -- [[Xenedra Ambreaus]]
* "..." --???
* "..." --???

<div style="padding:10px 25px; background: rgb(15, 201, 89); color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">
'''► Common Rumors (Easily overheard):'''</div>
* "That guy sure loves kids-- I've seen him in the alley sometimes, giving potions or food out to the orphan kids. How admirable!"

* "Speaking of potions, I think he worked at the Phrontistery! From what I hear, he's good but never got anywhere in there."

* "Isn't he a merchant? Yeah, that's right! I see him traveling on a chocobo caravan between Limsa, Ul'Dah and Gridania selling weapons and such!"

* "The things he sells go for a high price-- I wonder why that is, especially considering that they seem...well, worn."

* "Aye, but I think there's somethin' special about them arms of his, if'n ye take my drift..."

<div style="padding:10px 25px; background: rgb(242, 160, 18); color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">
'''► Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear):'''</div>

* "I've talked to a guy, who knows a girl, who knew a guy who said that red-headed guy uses daggers, but it certainly doesn't seem like he's doing any Gladiator training, if you know what I mean!"

* "I heard he wants to leave the merchant business. Too bad he makes a bit too much money for him to just let go...greed binds all, it seems..."

* "I heard arms and potions are not the only thing he sells-- Materia, but only to certain clients!"

<div style="padding:10px 25px; background: rgb(172, 32, 32); color: rgb(20, 20, 20)">
'''► Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard):'''</div>
* "He's a formidable fist-fighter, but you couldn't tell-- that's why I used to bet on his scrawny ass in the Underground!!"

* "I heard that he didn't just ''find'' those weapons...and the materia is somehow related to it!"

* "I've seen him pick pocket before. But when I was about to confront him, he placed the purse in some kid's hands and left. That's noble and all, but why does he steal when he has money?"

</div>

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">History</div>==

'''((Work in Progress, still adding! Still editing!))'''
===Sixth Astral Era===
'''Born (Cycle 1547)'''
<spoiler>
The hills in the [[plains]] were still and settled underneath the pink glow of dawn. No sound filled the air louder than the occasional curious 'kweh' from the nearest village sitting humbly by the tranquil [[river]]. you could even hear the soft chirps of the birds in the distance, flitting playfully between the leaves and moving with ease through the branches. Once in a while the raucous call of the [[opopo]] would add their own flair to the symphony that is dawn, though it was a bit early for even them. The wind hardly blew at all, an anti-climatic precursor to the day, despite what one newl family may know.

add add add
</spoiler>

'''School-age (Age:5)'''
<spoiler>
Molt is made fun of for being different and quirky. The red hair doesn't help (awkward ginger syndrome). Shed light on schooling in Gridania, mainly focusing on the playground behind Carpenter's Guild.

</spoiler>

'''Gridania Incident (Age:10)'''
<spoiler>
For age 10, Molt's dad can demonstrate how to protect yourself from the Ixali </spoiler>

'''Fall of Ala Mhigo (Age:10-11)'''
<spoiler>
***The takeover was not violent.....gotta fix this some***

When the Garleans took hold of Ala Mhigo, the people in the surrounding areas thought the grueling empire's iron fist would stay clenched around the lost city. Taken by surprise, they underestimated this as the Garlean iron fist of oppression would outstretch its horrifying claws to surrounding villages. Platoons of soldiers would march over the plains of Gyn Abania, lead by their monstrous centurions, killing all in their wake as though these men and women were the fingers of such an iron fist, outstretched and ready to grab everything in its reach.

When they came, they came fast, much sooner than expected. It would seem as though conquering the surrounding area was more important to the Garleans than the simple-minded villagers thought. When they came to the village that hald Molt, Molt's own father was one of the few on the front lines of defense for the village whom combat came as second nature. Admittedly, there were so few people to defend against the massacre to come, but it was a comfort that they held and took pride on as they sworn to protect those trying to flee. It worked, mostly.

Molt's mother was one of the few still attempting to flee when those sworn few were slain. The Garleans pushed through without casualty, and a lone centurion stepped forward, gunblade drawn and ready for more. The sight of a struggling mother with her son seemed almost as though it enraged him, provoking him to take care of this himself. He laid claim to these two, and the rest of the soldiers stood still as an audience waiting to see a work of art drawn on a canvas in front of them.

Pressing forward to the woman, no more than 10 yalms from her, the point of his blade aimed for her body. She was caught in her tracks. Trapped in nothing but an open village square with nothing to duck or dive into. She clutched her son close to her, turning her back towards the enemy. A loud crack resonated around the hills of the village. If there were any soldiers still continuing their killing spree, they all forgot about their own prey and turned to face their superior officer. The officer that would go home at the end of the day to his own loving wife and children, and sit down at a meal and deny anything he had done that day was wrong.

The bullet pierced into Serena's back and she dropped at an instant. Molt landed underneath her and cried for her, screaming for his mother. While fatally injured, she clutched the boy to her chest. He could hear his mother's ragged breathing, her breath wheezing and doused in blood. She cocked her head back to glance behind her and saw the centurion approaching, readying his blade to finish the job. Panicking, she did the only thing she thought even remotely sane in this horrible time. Almost without thought, she shoved Molt's face into the ground and began casting a spell, keeping her hands over her son's eyes. Molt struggled and continued to scream in horror, afraid of what was to come next.

The centurion approached ever-closer, his gunblade aimed for the mother's head, finger on the trigger. He squeezed it, a smile covering his face, concealed by the gruesome mask everyone in Eorzea will come to know. As the trigger pulled, he took in the full view of his kill as though it was just that perfect work of art. There were to loud cracks this time, breaking the silence that fell over the village, breaking the chanting of the sobbing woman, and breaking the unattended cries of this child.

She had completed her spell. Almost. As a result, the second crack was from her hands. While hiding the horrible scene playing in front of her son, she had been casting a blinding spell on him, to protect him from the gruesome image of witnessing her and perhaps his own death. The effect was unique in that while the child had struggled, she was only able to keep one hand over his face; it was over his left eye. The entirety of the spell did not take hold as expected, but backfired by blinding only that eye, causing serious damage from the interruption in casting. While it was to be a variation of a simple spell, she wanted to add time to ensure the child would not come to senses and sight with the monstrous gunblade to his forehead, or to his gut, ready to spill the life from him. Instead of temporary blindness, no matter the time restraint, Molt was instead cursed with what seemed to be permanent blindness in one eye.

The crack coming from the woman and child seemed to startle the centurion. Cautiously, he probed and prodded the corpse of the mother, finally flipping her over to see what happened. The child lay motionless with magicked scorch marks over his face. The soldier took this in for a moment, reflecting. Was this a form of love? Killing your own child to spare him an even worse fate? Disregarding the thought, he shook his head and was satisfied with what he saw. Turning around to face his troops, he gave the signal to wrap up their business and take leave, readying to perform the heinous acts from this village and Twelve knows how many other villages to the next one.

Moltove awoke several bells later, into the setting sun. He could not see but grey misshapen forms out of his right eye, unable to even recognize the loss of sight altogether from his left. For what seemed like many suns he fumbled around, trying to make sense of his village while tripping over cold, wet, fleshy lumps on the ground. He called out, but there was no response. Again, but nothing. To the best of his hindered ability, he gathered supplies, patting around while crawling, finding a loose cloth to bundle them together in. One of the apples he had found kept falling from the sack, so he reverted to carrying it in his arms, though none too soon after finding a sheathed dagger, quickly stashing it in the sack. In reality, only but two bells have passed since he had woken up, and now the night had fell. With no light to guide him, he set off, knapsack in hand, taking each step carefully as he began his adventure alone.

The boy tripped several times, but it did not deter him. He gathered his things once more and continued on, learning from each fall to walk more cautiously, to feel around for better footing.
</spoiler>

'''The Underground Fighting Rings (Age:10-11)'''
<spoiler>
-Ul'dahns are taught at a young age to read peoples character and are thus the best judges of character in Eorzea. This has a lot to do with avoiding getting scammed and knowing who you can scam.

The Dagger Dance: A game made popular in Ul'dah. It consists of three to five players quickly tossing a dagger back and forth. Players are eliminated if they fail to catch the knife or are wounded, and the last player standing wins.
</spoiler>

'''Battle of Silvertear Skies (Age: 16)''' 
When Moltove had climbed the worn, creaking steps from the dark, grunge halls of Ul'Dah's underground premier fight club, he expected to see a clear, crisp night as the day earlier suggested. After losing focus in the previous fight, he wanted the crisp air to fill his lungs before getting stuck down there for the rest of the night. Soon he would be reprimanded, and that made the thought of steppign outside that much more desireable. It had been getting difficult to drown out the sound of the drunken, howling men of below, waging who would come out the victor. Stepping back into the above-ground streets of Ul'Dah usually allowed him a moment's respite to refocus and meditate, and it did nothing but excite him. Upon sliding the rusted barricade from across the door, peering from inside the gate to what he thought to be hell, he soon realized there was something bigger going on.

What seemed like lightning in the distance flashed with rapid pace. A closer look gave away the tell-tale signs of Garlean magitek, hidden in the cloak of the cirrus clouds to the north. Moltove immediately rushed through the alley, wearing only but his normal fighting clothes: light leather bracers, leather chaps and a light, leather harness that exposed most of his chest. He was a sight to see, though not entirely out of the ordinary if he were coming from the Platinum Mirage. Exiting an alley off of the Sapphire exchange, he rushed past bystanders watching the same sight as he, occasionally bumping and shoving through the particularly thick crowds. He made his way to one of the few passageways to lead outside, around the large gate that remained closed what seemed indefinitely.

There, he saw it clearer, looking to the north, and into the skies. Were the Garlean's invading? ''Couldn't be,'' he thought to himself. ''They're already engaged into battle. But with who?''

What seemed like flakes of still-hot ash fell to the ground below the ships, but he could not tell what they were. ''Another Empire with airships? Beasts? They must have been over Mor Dhona,'' Molt thought. He deduced that they weren't as far north as Ishguard, of which he would doubt he would even bare witness. The green specks of light gave away all the Garlean's fleet-- Tall, imposing white mobile units he had seen fly above the desert once in a great while. There was one dark mass that seemed to have given itself away by the amount of ceruleum it was firing in various directions.

Molt was not the only one to be watching this unfold, as countless adventurers and Ul'dah citizens alike were sitting on what seemed to be a giant porch of the great city-state.

"What's going on?!" Molt exclaimed, hoping someone around him would answer. A fair skinned Hyur with dark hair was the only one who answered back. It looked as though he was there for some time with his blanket and lantern. A basket with food seemed to be his companion for the night.

"Well, it looks as though the Garlean's are at it again. They're attacking something over yonder, there." He replied.

"How long has this been going on?"

The Hyur tapped a finger to his chin in consideration, "I'd reckon for several hours now. It started when it was still light out, but the night waits for no-- L-look! There!" he stammered, pointing up to the sky. There was a loud explosion, heard even all the way from the far reaches of the desert, illuminated by a blue beam of light. Something had awoken, and joined the foray.

The massive damage incurred by the airships began to fill the air with smog, hiding the battle from prying eyes, only illuminating a faint blue for those patient to keep their eyes locked at the scene. Now more than ever did it seem to be a terrible sight-- flecks of discarded, burning paper fell from the sky again, falling like gentle, streaking meteors. Molt knew better. They were either ship or beast, but calculating the last explosion, it was likely to be beast, and what beast could be that high but the Scalekin of myths?

The view did not last, as then something large fell from the grace of the smoke and clouds. It was as though it were in slow motion; seconds of waiting for it to hit below felt like bells, yet when it crashed, it hit hard. The bright, volatile ceruleum lit up the sky with a brilliant light, even reaching to the heavens. Molt took a step back as countless others gasped in horror. What was this he was seeing? Why were the Garleans attacking dragons in the north? What happened? Why?

While the crash itself seemed to take minute after minute of horrifying anguish, the explosion and light seemed to have disappeared within mere seconds in comparison. There seemed to be no direct consequences after the fact, and many outside began to wander back into the city to report and gossip about what they saw. None other than Molt seemed to be shaken from what he witnessed that night. Would there be more attacks? A war? Or even, perhaps the end of Garlemald? Surely not, but perhaps they will think twice about attacking something again, and keep to themselves. All of these thoughts ran through Molt's head as he stumbled his way back to the damnable alley from whence he came. He banged on the large, iron door to admit himself back into the even darker underworld than what one could expect from Ul'dah. Climbing down the rotting steps, bracing himself on the moss covered stone walls, his manager met him at the foot of the descent.

"It's about time you got back--you're up next. Better pray to the Twelve and get your ass back in there-- you've got a long way to go!"

Molt indeed prayed that night, for the first time since he was a child.

'''Scar?'''
<spoiler>RIVAL did it.</spoiler>

'''(Age:18)'''
<spoiler> </spoiler>

'''Scar?'''
<spoiler> Rival could have done it at this point, forcing Molt to stop fighting and focus on home.</spoiler>

''' (Age:20)'''
<spoiler> </spoiler>

'''(Age:22)'''
<spoiler> Duh.. </spoiler>

'''The Split (Age:24)'''
<spoiler></spoiler>

===1.0===
'''1.0 (Age:25)'''
<spoiler> </spoiler>

</spoiler>
===The Spoilermity===
'''Meteor (Age:25)'''
<spoiler>
Molt attends the battle of the flats, partly to search for someone, or anyone he may know but mostly on a last ditch effort to prove something to himself and make something of his life-- or last remaining moments of his life. Shortly after the key dropped to the earth is when Molt decided...it wasn't worth dieing over. This is where he obtains a chocobo, and tries to gtfo as fast as possible, relying on Bahamut to take his time flying around (such as his flight of Limsa-- pretty far away). This is not to say there are not any instances of a bucking Chocobo or injuries, but it's general enough for a start.
===The Recovery===
'''The Aftermath (Age:25)'''
<spoiler>

Molt retreats to Thal's Respite; a cave in Thanalan, a common place for an old Stormguard friend to visit and pray. Molt's ideals and even worship changes to Nymeia. A stash of necessities was left behind some time ago, about a day or two's worth, by Shurin and Molt uses them, leaving the cave for the first time a week later. Hungry, he scavenges for what remaining flora and fauna may be around. He does this for about a month, untrusting on what may be happening beyond the fields and canyons of Thanalan.

</spoiler>
'''Cycle 1 (Age:26)'''
<spoiler>

Eventually he returns to Ul'Dah, attempting to reclaim anything he once had in a rented inn room. Noting such destruction, he makes his way to Gridania. Seeing the destruction here, he gives up-- surely Limsa is no better off. He makes a decision in the third or fourth month of the cycle to visit the battleground. While there, he gets an idea that will help him turn a profit in the aftermath of war-- take weapons and armor-- and anything else of value laying around-- and sell them (if it's possible to visit, much less reclaim anything). Possibly a mysterious mark forms on one or both of his arms (No base for this-- stop making things up!) No wait, it'd be for void or shadow spells...in case THF/ASS would ever be released...

-Ul'dah lacks resources compared to other nations, but makes up for it in trading. However since the Garleans blocked trade routes, the merchant population has diminished significantly
source : Styrmoeya

Molt seizes the lack of Garlean pressure on the trading routes
</spoiler>

'''Cycle 2 (Age:27)'''
<spoiler>

He gathers what he can from the lost battlefield and stores it in a hidden location, possibly in the cave he took refuge in. He fixes up the cart he had found not far from the battlefield (the some one he used to transport all those weapons), and makes a pilgrimage. He starts in the plains east of Gridania, near Ala Mhigo, to a location that was leveled some time ago. He spends weeks excavating the site, finding a necklace, presumably his mothers, while camping out or staying a few nights in Ala Mhigo (assuming it's not destroyed). Once satisfied, he takes his pilgrimage and travels the land, staying nowhere twice. Visits even Ishgard-- may have a purpose there, but since it won't be open upon release, and considering Bahamut is a dragon, probably not a good idea. He picks up anything worth selling on the way, stopping sometimes to visit the flora to stock up on ingredients; regents and such.

</spoiler>

'''Cycle 3 (Age:28)'''
<spoiler>

Finishing his journey, he returns to Ul'Dahl to check the progress. There's not much, so focusing on crafting/doctoring biz during the day, he also trains at night. This is probably the time when the Garleans will be sending out forces, so it's also a time to start selling his supplies.

</spoiler>

'''Cycle 4 (Age:29)'''
<spoiler>

Possibly back and forth between Ul'Dah and the Black Shroud/Gridania. He focuses on training, picking up some Black Magic, refines White Magic, and hones his combat with use of a dagger, his fists, and a pole arm, possibly swords. If he did not gain the mysterious mark in Cycle 1, then he instead gets a tattoo, for the hell of it-- he himself is changing from what he once used to be, after all.

</spoiler>

'''Cycle 5 / Pre-ARR [Probably half a year?](Age:29-30)'''
<spoiler>

He hones in on his training. By now, he should have picked up the basics and even advanced skills of a sword and armor smith, since having to sell them requires knowledge, use and practice in the art. His Alchemy should be maxed out, and healing techniques should be comfortable. If he gained the mysterious mark, his black magic training should be more focused on the Umbral/Void/Shadow magicks. This isn't his everyday thing, the magic is just used in his combat skills. Place of residency in ARR is unknown.

</spoiler>

===A Realm Reborn===
'''ARR (Age:30)'''

==<div style="padding:10px 15px; background: rgb(72,4,4)">Annotations</div>==