Sylas Peregrine

Error creating thumbnail: File missing  Sylas Peregrine
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Gender	Male
Race	Hyur
Clan	Highlander
Citizenship	Ul'dah
Age	28
Marital Status	Taken
Occupation	'Hunter'/Ex-Pit Fighter
Height/Weight	6'7" / 280 ponze
Orientation	Heteroflexible
Relatives	None.

WIP Like Whoa

Basic Info

Likes ■ Privacy ■ Hitting things ■ People Watching ■ Alcohol ■ Exploring ■ Learning ■ Arrogance ■ Doing crazy shit ■ Learning about aether manipulation

Dislikes ■ Windy days ■ Fire ■ Those who expect to be respected ■ Strong smells ■ Slimes

Other ■ Alignment: True Neutral ■ Vice(s): Moderate drug usage ■ Favorite Food: Fried Popotos ■ Favorite Drink: Goblin Firewhiskey ■ Favorite Color: Red

Appearance & Personality

Sylas is your average Highlander for the most part. There's little remarkable about his height or weight, though more recently his features are looking less harshly defined and a bit fuller. Shirtless, he'd have the appearance of someone that was once a pit-fighter, sculpted to fit a specific aesthetic for the onlookers that paid good money to watch bloodsport. Those days are not-too-long past, so there are still remnants of a musculature created for reasons that were less than pragmatic. Scars litter the Highlander's crag-sculpted frame, the most obvious are likely the two that sit predominantly on his face. Even if the scar that crossed his full lips looked more recent than the others. It's sibling, a small nick under his eye looks to be an age-old thing. The thick strength of his hands is where the next set of noticeable scars sits, primarily across knuckles and within palms. With a grayness to his hair that makes Sylas appear older than he actually is, he's recently taken to keeping the once-proud mane of hair relatively short. Like most, he's been known to change the style up on occasion. A perpetual stubble covers the man's face. A beard is impractical while a clean-shaven look makes him look like some sort of factual beast. He is oftentimes said to look perpetually tired of someone's shit. It's not a wrong assessment.

Personality-wise, Sylas is a more amiable sort. Normally a man of few words, he allows the image of a lumbering brute to be the way most people perceive him. In reality, he's a thoughtful man that simply takes his time in making his opinions on things known. Not being the most eloquent or poetic man, Sylas prefers to let his actions speak for him. This typically means he ends up fighting someone to prove a point, whether it to settle a dispute or to show affection. He's strange. The man likes to consider himself a free-spirit, though he does tend to get caught up in the beliefs of others on occasion. Recently he's become a bit more self-aware of his tendency towards apathy and is attempting to settle himself back into a mindset he once found pride within.

Biography

The background of Sylas Peregrine is a nebulous thing that even he is only loosely aware of. Not due to amnesia or anything of the sort; no, the man simply didn't hold onto many of his memories while growing up. While they certainly shaped his personality and his outlook on life, there are very few specific events that he would call to mind when reminiscing.

Childhood

His first memories of the Desert City-State were not fond ones. Memories that consisted almost entirely of plucking the necessities of life from decadent merchants; of nimble little fingers dancing through the pockets of those too lost in their vices to notice. Of a well-placed cry and stumble being the most easily trod path for his nightly stew. Thinking beyond the simple joy of a full stomach was unheard of for the child. Each day it’s own struggle--each moment a battle in it’s own right. He hadn’t known better. While some of the children boasted of being trueborn, certain that their stations in life would be secure the moment their parents arrived from whatever far-flung citystate that hailed from. He’d never made similar claims--knowing all too well that the one that had brought him to Ul’dah was never to wake again. There was nothing before that in his mind, nothing before that night where the kindly old man that had brought him so far south had been dragged into a corner and beaten for reasons a child could never comprehend. He knew little of where he came from, and even less of those who desired to be separated from the child. A span of years passed and the boy survived as he could; always ducking the gangs that seemed all too eager to rope a quiet boy into their ranks. He’d seen what a bit of buggery and bullying did to those that fell in line too easily--or those that did not. And so he stayed on the rooftops, never socializing with the fellow urchins. Coming down from his perch only to scavenge, and only at night. He thrived for half a decade in this state. Through thrift and thievery, relying only on his own wits and the carefree nature of the drunks that stumbled beneath his rooftop every night.

Teenage

Miss Blue had been her name; A woman of no renown. The proprietress of a small hole in the wall--a place for the locals to go and purchase what they might, be it women, food, drink or a straw-filled mattress for the night. He had been caught stealing, as most of the streetborn inevitably wound up. She had been the first to show him kindness--an open hearth in exchange for small chores. Warmth, regular enough meals. She’d never cared for him like a son, never provided more than her means allowed her to. She’d had a daughter--a young miqo’te that could never have come from the woman’s loins. He couldn’t remember her name after the years had passed, but they’d been friendly enough. Though she was his senior by a handful of years, she had been the first friend he’d ever had. Playing games at night when they were both ushered into a back room. He’d always been quiet--a lack of conversation for the span of half a decade did that to one. She brought him out of his shell, encouraging the shy boy to boast--even if just a little.

He’d been making Miss Blue’s establishment into something of a home for a year now. The seasons never touched Ul’dah like they did the other city states; places of far off intrigue and tales brought in by the lesser merchants that visited Miss Blue’s little hovel. Tales that incited a young boy’s imagination. He dreamt that year--dreamt of becoming a mercenary and traveling the world. Seeing everything there was to see. He’d take his miqo’te companion with him; they’d grown closer over the course of the year. Something to be expected of two youths that had little else in this world. As these things are wont to happen, the inevitable happened. Awkward fumbling and eager little touches led down a path that ended with the two looking at one-another in a fonder light. He was thirteen, by most estimates. She was his first, and his only, for a time.

In between spending time with his pretty little companion and doing chores for Miss Blue--things that ran the gamut from deliveries to cleaning, the boy found himself drawn to the regular Bloodsand’s competition. A place where a man could make his own destiny with little more than skill with a blade. Fame, fortune. What couldn’t be won by the keenly honed edge of a blade? And so he spoke freely of joining with the Gladiator’s Guild when he’d come of age. Of winning his own fortune, of striking out with his companion to make their dreams a reality. The dreams of a child, while easily stirred, are nearly impossible to dismantle once they’ve gripped hold of the poor creature’s mind. He began bribing the patrons of Miss Blue’s tavern--small favors in exchange for the chance to accompany them on a patrol. To gain a bit of learning about the way of the blade.

Late Teenage - Adult

By the time Sylas was in his late teens much had changed for the boy. A series of events transpired that would seperate him from Miss Blue and his companion at the time. While he's loathe to mention that period of his life, there are rumors of a certain tavern burning to the ground under orders from the Syndicate. Protection payments had been important in those days, and few would be found charged with a crime against a business that did not pay their dues. Sylas had risen to some renown as a pit-fighter around the same time and soon called the Gladiator's Guild his home. He spent the next few years of his life fighting for sport, gaining the occasional recognition that came and went as easily as coin in a brothel. There is a period of time here where Sylas is rumored to have become an executioner for the Syndicate. Those who committed crimes against the organization were thrown into the ring against him, supposedly, and if they managed to bleed the fighter they earned their freedom. To lose was to be killed. These rumors were substantiated when several 'accidents' took place during Sylas' fights in the form of the man slaying his opponent. He never saw the reach of the law for these killings, for accidents surely happen when a sword is used for sport.

Eventually the pre-Calamity Age of Adventurers began. Having dreamt of traveling the world since his boyhood and having been retired by the powers that be in the Bloodsands, Sylas eagerly joined up with an adventuring company to make his mark on the world. He would be a Hero. He would set the world right. Using nothing but his blade and willpower, Sylas would become a name known across the land. But as we all know, the grandest dreams come tumbling down the hardest. A series of failures that he outright refuses to talk about led to the man joining the reformed Immortal Flames for a short time. He was part of a coordinated offense to slay the newly-summoned Amal'jaa Primal, Ifrit. This operation was considered a total failure when only a handful of those sent out returned alive. They spoke of their own allies turning against them in a sudden and unexpected fervor. With broken spirits, they could only wait and listen to the tales brought back by Louisoix and his forces.

Some might say that the knowledge of the Echo is what shattered Sylas' ideals. After all, who wouldn't be disheartened to know that there were some that were simply "chosen" to be heroes while the rest of the world could only watch.

The Calamity - Present

Sylas was at Cartenau when the Mad Garlean's plan came to fruition. The day is one the man hardly remembers, as seems to be standard answer most that were present give. Whether or not that's the truth of it is another matter entirely. He spent the next six years performing various sellsword-oriented tasks. The man has taken to calling himself a 'Hunter' these days. If something's lost, he'll find it.

(... Constantly in flux! Will update as necessary..)

Miscellaneous

RUMORS Some of these rumors are untrue or are greatly exaggerated. Please feel free to add your own rumors under PC! ◢ Common Rumors (Easily overheard) ■ "Peregrine? Yeh, he used t'fight down 'ear. Got recruited into some 'venturin' company 'bout 7 years back now. Haven't seen'im since." -A coliseum trainer. ■ "Apparently he was calling himself an information broker until relatively recently. Terrible business, that. Everyone seems to be involved in it these days. Too much competition." -A concerned Ul'dahn whore. ◢ Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear) ■ "I've heard he only goes after Miqo'te women. Guess he's got a weak spot for a fluffy tail. -A former pit-fighter that fought alongside him. ■ "Th'man's got a lotta respect for whores. Too much, I'd say. Treats'em like they ain't tryin' t'sell 'im a nice piece of ass! He took a few t'dinner back in the'day." -Another former "colleague." ◢ Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard) ■ "I heard he only just recently learned how t'read. Makes sense for a fella that grew up like he did, but he seems mighty ashamed of it." -A member of the Arcanist's guild. ■ "Apparently his last lover, some Viper-tribe woman, did something so vile that he threatened to skin her an' feed her the skin before killing her. I've heard of a lovers spat, but gracious." -A Coerthan Knight. ◢ PC Rumors (Rumors from the character's of other players) ■ ■ ■ ■

RELATIONS ♥ Romantic Interest    ♥ Platonic Love     ● Good Standing     ● Poor Standing ♥ Lafiaht Dwinani - This is a couple that few could have seen coming. What began as a harmless meeting upon the Burning Wall in Thanalan turned into an all-out brawl the next time the pair met. From that point on Sylas's admiration for the free-spirited and quirky Miqo'te grew. Funny how breaking someone's nose can lead to a relationship. Lafiaht was a companion to Sylas when he was at his most lost. The fact that the pair had a fist-fight because telling each other they liked one-another only cemented the fact that at the end of the day, they're a pretty good match.

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Footnotes

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