Moltove Mon'tova

Patch Notes:Show text

holy shit I hate wikies

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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.

Error creating thumbnail: File missing  Moltove Mon'Tova
Error creating thumbnail: File missing ---
Basic Information
Gender	Male
Race	Elezen
Clan	Wildwood
Citizenship	Limsa Lominsa
Age	32
Nameday	10th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon
Guardian	Oschon, the Wanderer
Lineage Guardian	Menphina, the Lover
Occupation	Registered Arms Dealer, Adventurer
OOC Profile	User:Moltove

Character

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.

Inventory

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.

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.

Personality

Tendencies

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

• Talents:
• Dexterity, as expected of most Elezen
• Great tolerance for pain, as taught by the pugilists of Ul'Dah
• Mercantile skills are great assets he has honed. He could sell fire to a candle if you'd let him
• Security skills (lock picks, traps, detection ect.)
• Alchemy
• Botany
• Man, like...three songs on the lute!

• Likes:
• Food (Just...all of it)
• Fine arts (music, paintings, ect...)
• Nature
• Drinking
• 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
• The military and most organizations based on one

• 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 he will otherwise remain... 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 or plans for certain tasks. Planning is planning about future goals or outcomes to him that may not even affect him until much later down the road. 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 and do so.

• 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.

Combat

Show text

Armor

Molt has been and still trains in a chain-mail shirt and leather tabard, plundered from the Sastasha Caverns. He since had the tabard fully repaired and customized. The armor is a bit heavy, though fairly mobile for its design, so it had made the perfect training armor. Molt's philosophy on training included the idea of wearing heavier armor to build up your strength to the movement; that way, you can fight in less armor and move faster.

Regardless of what he wears on top, his legs are normally adorned with plated jackboots, or rarely, plated caligae.

When wielding a polearm, Molt will take for heavier armor, favoring a specially crafted Stormguard-themed plate. The base of the suit is white leather while spiked plate protects vital sections of his body. On each hinge and pivot are Stormguard sigils, and one large, blackened sigil rests where the nape of his neck would be.

Molt's preferred armor would be a cloth tunic and plated-jackboots, and would most likely be his peak speed and strength, sacrificing vitality.

Weapons

Molt can sometimes be seen with different weapons.

• Dual Daggers: Molt's second, but only true melee calling is with dual blades. With most citizens frightened at the sight of a knife wielding fiend, Molt had to train behind closed doors and under cover of night until the Rogues Guild only recently made a strong comeback in Limsa. After proving his worth, he was accepted into the guild and now trains under them.

Blackened Widows: These twin knives are simple and efficient. They are, in truth, plain knives but are forged from cobalt and whittled by mahogany. The blade is black, save for the very sharp edge, and the hilt is a deep red.

Molt has only received professional training within the cycle, but has fair knowledge of Pugilism and is able to adapt a fraction of it towards his skill as a Rogue. Despite this, and his own training for the past few cycles, he has quite a lot of training to go.

• Guisarme: Molt added to his collection a blackened 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 exaggerated and the blade itself seems to be shaped like a mouth. There is an engraved sort of eye on both sides, making the whole thing elude to a jackal of some kind. 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.

Another guisarme, one more antiqued, was in his collection at one time. This vintage guisarme was Molt's first polearm, from when he had quit the Phrontistery and eventually joined Stormguard. It is currently lodged near the top of Snowcloak.

• 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, but remains nothing but a sniping object at best.

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 have taught him even the most dirtiest secrets to winning a match, but would strive not to use any. To be able to fight with his fists, he must be fairly angry or drunk, and does not like to wear much armor at all when doing so.

The guild did not consider him an official member due to "liability" issues, but he has taken training in master courses some time ago. While he may have peaked in the past, he is still a formidable foe with just his fists.

• 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 was something to keep secret until the Guild had made for a proper return. He will wear a sash to cover the dagger at the back of his waist not only because of the stigmata, but to also have the upper hand in any confrontation. He will carry another blade at his side, less hidden and more accessible.

Gaining way into the guild has earned his name to the ranks. The style of fighting is very similar in some aspects to pugilism, but also incredibly opposite at the same time, and has therefore been a challenge, but one that he trains for every day. With prior knowledge and a tenacious desire to better himself in this art, he is improving every day and can be a tricky foe.

• Lancer and Dragoon Molt is proficient as a lancer, between visiting Gridania, training with the Order of the Stormguard. and training on his own for nearly seven cycles. 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.

Regardless, becoming a Lancer has been the push he needed to do more with his life, and has always treated the training with the guisarme with utmost respect. Fighting a beast in the wilds fist to fist couldn't always work, so he had to take up the polearm in those just cases, and has kept it since. He has received formal training from a fellow lancer, and has made frequent visits to the guild as well, so he is fairly skilled and would offer a good challenge to anyone who would wish to try. However, as of late, he is considering to retire his skills in this area.

Notable Weapon Skills

Moltove draws his skills from training in three martial classes; Pugilist, Lancer, Rogue. Most of the time, these weapon skills (and other skills/feats) are limited to his designated fighting style. Therefore, and most obviously, Molt will be unable to do any punching while equipped with a weapon or vice-versa. Also, depending on the skill, requirements have need be met in order to use or otherwise unlock them to their full potential, or even just to use them.

((Some weapon skills have their name changed either for flavor or to designate a slight difference in their in-game counterparts. In addition, Fracture (MRD) is included in exchange for any DoTs classes have, as Demolish, Mutilate, ect sound a bit too gruesome to Molt's style of combat. For example, he's more keen on fracturing a bone than to just mutilate your face >.> ...))

Pugilist

<spoiler>

• Bootshine: While a basic skill, it is used to throw the opponent off balance by delivering a stiff strike to the legs. A favorite of Molt's, and is a large reason why he prefers plated leg-wear.

• Sucker Punch: More oft considered a cheap trick, it is a useful tool regardless. Molt will take any opening available to him to deliver a quick, though not as potent punch to disarm the opponent and catch them off guard. This is primarily used as a tactic to overwhelm the opponent, do minimal damage and potentially goad them to do rash things.

• Twin Snakes: An ambidextrous punch that can be used as a one-two series of punches or a single punch with both fists. Not only can this disorient the opponent, it allows him to build up to Water Stance by immersing him in a continual weave of attacks and dodges.

• Crumbling Earth: A skill designed to defend against multiple opponents at once. While not a direct attack, it shatters the ground around Molt, and opponents take a bit of the force, while the earth below them becomes difficult terrain. Certain terrain may have different effects. Soggy earth may just dishevel the ground and make a mess, a wooden floor may collapse, and a solid stone floor may deal more damage, as the stone resists the force of the skill, leaving the floor minimally crumbled. The ideal ground Molt likes to use for such a technique is that found around Thanalan, which allows the earth to become the most jagged.

• Mythril Peak: A powerful attack used by focusing everything into one solid punch to the gut, chest, back or head. If it lands correctly, it will stun the opponent. A strike to the head will cause severe damage and most likely knock the person unconscious. A strike to the torso will knock the wind out of the opponent and daze them. While incredibly useful, it does require a moment of preparation, and so is often use as a finishing move.

• Howling Fists: A series of punches that seem to not only strike the opponent in front of Molt in rapid succession, but seems to pass through and strike those behind the opponent as well. The farther it must travel, and the more it must pass through, the weaker it hits others. This can only be utilized while in the Water Stance.

• Haymaker: Quite similar to Sucker Punch, it is a wild swing that packs a bit of power. Molt will use this only after dodging and when he thinks he has a clear shot to outright knock the opponent out. It takes a bit of preparation to use, as the opponent has to be completely open for it to work. If it does not land as intended, at best this can daze the opponent. This can easily leave Molt open, hence his hesitation on using the move.

• One-Ilm Punch: A rather quick punch used to deal minor internal damage rather than outright devastation. When landed successfully, the opponent will hemorrhage internally, though for only a few moments, dealing its damage over time to aid in exausting and hurting the opponent over time. While not a favorite of Molt's, it nonetheless is a skill he is willing to use on an opponent, least likely sparring partners due to the nature of the technique.

Lancer

True Thrust Full Thrust Impulse Drive Chaos Thrust Doom Spike Ring of Thorns Leg Sweep Piercing Talon

Rogue

Spinning Edge Gust Slash Mug Sneak Attack Dancing Edge 1000 Knives Throwing Knives Pin

Cross-Class Skills

Featherfoot Second Wind Water Stance Earth Stance Fire Stance Feint Keen Flurry Perfect Dodge Shukuchi Fracture

Extreme 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.

Generally, it is similar to the traditional Berserk skill in most games; Attacks have more potency, But Molt is left wide open, prone to not use defensive maneuvers or think carefully about what he does. This leaves him open and vulnerable, but also stronger, against friends and foe alike.

He has no idea about this, but he will not willingly put himself in any situation that would unlock this, either, as he wouldn't put himself in a situation such as a gunfight if he knew guns were going to be involved.

Strengths and Weaknesses

• Strengths:

Moltove can use his speed against slow enemies to quickly overpower them. While speed is not his best attribute, vitality comes in when he's just not fast enough. Through rigorous training, Molt had developed several means to increase his vitality, from training to a pugilist stance, to sheer will. Molt is not above coating his weapons with poison and using tricks to get his way in combat, thanks to the skills from the Rogue's Guild and the dirty fighting in certain sects of pugilism. No matter what weapons he uses, his fists are his strongest weapons as of right now.

Overwhelming the foe at all costs is a priority to him and the basis to most of his strategies, unless if he knows he's got a long fight ahead of him. Making use of a pugilist skill Second Wind will allow him to misplace a fraction of the damage sustained but remains reactive only every so often, mostly in dire circumstances.

• 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, depending on his armor choice, Molt is either slower or more vulnerable to blows. Thus, with a few well-placed strikes, Molt can be down for the count fairly quick. In addition, Molt is not a master at anything, next to pugilism, 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. If that is not possible and the loud noise continues, he will panic and eventually enter a berserk state.

Moltove lacks the ability to heal, aside from Second Wind, which is procced in emergency situations, but can use potions to cure himself if granted the chance. 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.

Any strength that he has, there is more oft a compromise or secret weakness to it.

Relationships and Affiliations

Family

Moltove came from a unique lineage. His grandfather had married a Duskwight, despite both parent's great disdain, as Duskwight and Wildwood alike are keen on keeping their blood lines pure, even today. 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.

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 Valarie's and his own. 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 or political hogwash.

Racism, hate and intolerance where forbidden in their lives, nor was it ever called for as a family. Out in the Gyn Abania plains, there was never a need for it. Small villages huddled together against the steep inclines to the Velodyna River worked too close together to survive, rather than fight over trivial things like that. Sure, there were plenty of fights, though that is just humanoid nature, after all, but to Molt, it seemed like no one in the village would dare bear arms against another.

Both parents had died defending the village, and their son, from the Garlean troops that over through Ala Mhigo. It was only a matter of time before the legion in charge dispersed a few squads to secure the plains and, eventually, their village.

• Father: Tomaux Mon`Tova (Deceased)

• Mother: Valerie Serielle (Deceased)

• Siblings: Only Child

Friends

• Seraphine, Aylis and the Lost of the Stormguard: Comrades in arms and hearts, Molt lost many a good friend to the passing of time, Calamity, and to the hidden blades at the Guardsmen's necks. This group, with important note on Seraphine, Shurin, Arydin, and Aylis, helped Molt in infinite ways, drawing from their wisdom even today. After reviewing all reports, he has decided those that where with him before the Calamity are now dead. Once every week, if not more, Molt can be seen paying his respects to them through Thal's Respite.

• Kylin Felstar

Linkshells

Order of the Stormguard (Inactive):

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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.

The Rumor Mill

► Player Rumors (Rumors personally written by other PC's. Please feel free to drop a line!)

• "I think he might have a bit of a knife fetish. Perhaps worth looking in to~" -- Xenedra Ambreaus
• "..." --???
• "..." --???

► Common Rumors (Easily overheard):

• "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..."

► Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear):

• "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!"

► Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard):

• "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?"

History

((Work in Progress, still adding! Still editing!))

Sixth Astral Era

Born (Cycle 1547) Show text

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

School-age (Age:5) Show text

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.

Gridania Incident (Age:10) Show text

For age 10, Molt's dad can demonstrate how to protect yourself from the Ixali

Fall of Ala Mhigo (Age:10-11) Show text

• • • 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.

The Underground Fighting Rings (Age:10-11) Show text

-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.

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? Show text

RIVAL did it.

(Age:18) Show text

Scar? Show text

Rival could have done it at this point, forcing Molt to stop fighting and focus on home.

(Age:20) Show text

(Age:22) Show text

Duh.. 

The Split (Age:24) Show text

1.0

1.0 (Age:25) Show text

</spoiler>

The Spoilermity

Meteor (Age:25) Show text

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.

Cycle 1 (Age:26) Show text

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

Cycle 2 (Age:27) Show text

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.

Cycle 3 (Age:28) Show text

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.

Cycle 4 (Age:29) Show text

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.

Cycle 5 / Pre-ARR [Probably half a year?](Age:29-30) Show text

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.

A Realm Reborn

ARR (Age:30)