Difference between revisions of "Estrelain Helaraint"
m |
m |
||
| Line 182: | Line 182: | ||
<div style="padding:0px 10px; font-size:18px;color:#5F5F5F;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px silver;">'''Early Life'''</div> | <div style="padding:0px 10px; font-size:18px;color:#5F5F5F;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px silver;">'''Early Life'''</div> | ||
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">Estrelain S. de Helaraint, was born to Senestielle d'Oraguille and Ondolais A. de Helaraint, a former medicine woman and a knight turned into steward and heir to the house he served. Being Estrelain the only son of a smaller house of the Holy See, his father, Ser Ondolais, wished he took the path of diplomacy or orthodoxy, steering his son when he could towards the Scholasticate of Saint Reymanaud of Ishgard. Though young Estrelain was an obedient child, he, being often witness to the feats of his father as a knight, started developing a strong bond with him, which ultimately led the adolescent man to seek a place among the Temple Knights, with which his father trained in youth. Truly, his infancy was not too different from that of the other children of the Holy See. He grew up in a modest, yet above-the-middle house, he attended his lessons in the old doctrines for bells every sun of his tender years, while playing Knights & Knaves with his friends. No corner of the city, even the darkest, was left unseen by Estrelain or Estrél, as his female friends used to call him, and his group often participated in childish explorations of the lower areas of Ishgard, even the south-eastern ones. He was particularly fond of his mother in his first years, and she was, in return twice as fond of him. Not only he lived a seemingly happy childhood, but also a fruitful one, having learned through his studies about the world much more than he would have cared to admit. A presumptuous one, yet diligent when the situation called the needs for it, Estrelain was happy to socialize with the majority of other Ishgardians, and because of his often cheeky, yet mannered way to propose himself, there was little to-no-room for the others to disdain him.</font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1545]■ Estrelain S. de Helaraint, was born to Senestielle d'Oraguille and Ondolais A. de Helaraint, a former medicine woman and a knight turned into steward and heir to the house he served. Being Estrelain the only son of a smaller house of the Holy See, his father, Ser Ondolais, wished he took the path of diplomacy or orthodoxy, steering his son when he could towards the Scholasticate of Saint Reymanaud of Ishgard. Though young Estrelain was an obedient child, he, being often witness to the feats of his father as a knight, started developing a strong bond with him, which ultimately led the adolescent man to seek a place among the Temple Knights, with which his father trained in youth. Truly, his infancy was not too different from that of the other children of the Holy See. He grew up in a modest, yet above-the-middle house, he attended his lessons in the old doctrines for bells every sun of his tender years, while playing Knights & Knaves with his friends. No corner of the city, even the darkest, was left unseen by Estrelain or Estrél, as his female friends used to call him, and his group often participated in childish explorations of the lower areas of Ishgard, even the south-eastern ones. He was particularly fond of his mother in his first years, and she was, in return twice as fond of him. Not only he lived a seemingly happy childhood, but also a fruitful one, having learned through his studies about the world much more than he would have cared to admit. A presumptuous one, yet diligent when the situation called the needs for it, Estrelain was happy to socialize with the majority of other Ishgardians, and because of his often cheeky, yet mannered way to propose himself, there was little to-no-room for the others to disdain him.</font></div><br> |
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2"> Alas, with the classing of years, one after another, Estrelain was left fatherless due to a Dravanian assault, and with his mother in grief, he silently commenced working as an errand boy for houses of greater relevance, while more often than necessary he sparred with his more fortunate peers to obtain a shred of thrill out of his customary, yet diminished life. With the situation ongoing, Estrlain was soon to be facing the fall of his family from nobility, with the absence of a father so already thinly connected to the upper class, it was in fact easy to strip them of any relation to the more important houses. Additionally, unbeknownst to Estrelain in return, his mother Senestielle had contracted a malady of degenerative outcomes, but the strength of the Ishgardian woman allowed her to display no sign of weakness or fading to his son, whom, later saw her die sooner than he expected under 'mysterious circumstances'. Of course, as head of a house that had already taken a steep path, he was able to seal the family debts, yet not recover their name nor position within the Holy See. The deed was accomplished by selling the estate and work-force, rendering himself de-facto, a vagabond. Estrelain, however, like an unbending son of the Holy See, disgraced to dive through hardships, did not falter. He soon claimed a room within one of the inns of the lower quarters of Ishgard, established himself as 'custodian' of the library of another house, and earned his wage through the keeping of tomes, often tending to the various needs of the Lordlings that strolled about its dusty and chartaceous possessions-filled halls. The wildwood, had also attempted to secure himself a place in the Temple Knight, in one last attempt to honour his father, yet he was blatantly denied approval in his swordplay, an event that forced the adolescent man into following a less wild dream, settling for an already boring, yet young life. In the midst of all adversities, however, Estrelain found solace in the raising, riding and caring for the local chocobos, by the Holy Stables, where he humbly served as a stable boy in parallel with his occupation at Noillurel Manor, where he worked as a book-keep. Evenly paralleled by others, Estrelain developed a very strong connection with the creatures, and shaping himself into a passionately decent rider.</font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1559]■ Alas, with the classing of years, one after another, Estrelain was left fatherless due to a Dravanian assault, and with his mother in grief, he silently commenced working as an errand boy for houses of greater relevance, while more often than necessary he sparred with his more fortunate peers to obtain a shred of thrill out of his customary, yet diminished life. With the situation ongoing, Estrlain was soon to be facing the fall of his family from nobility, with the absence of a father so already thinly connected to the upper class, it was in fact easy to strip them of any relation to the more important houses. Additionally, unbeknownst to Estrelain in return, his mother Senestielle had contracted a malady of degenerative outcomes, but the strength of the Ishgardian woman allowed her to display no sign of weakness or fading to his son, whom, later saw her die sooner than he expected under 'mysterious circumstances'. Of course, as head of a house that had already taken a steep path, he was able to seal the family debts, yet not recover their name nor position within the Holy See. The deed was accomplished by selling the estate and work-force, rendering himself de-facto, a vagabond. Estrelain, however, like an unbending son of the Holy See, disgraced to dive through hardships, did not falter. He soon claimed a room within one of the inns of the lower quarters of Ishgard, established himself as 'custodian' of the library of another house, and earned his wage through the keeping of tomes, often tending to the various needs of the Lordlings that strolled about its dusty and chartaceous possessions-filled halls. The wildwood, had also attempted to secure himself a place in the Temple Knight, in one last attempt to honour his father, yet he was blatantly denied approval in his swordplay, an event that forced the adolescent man into following a less wild dream, settling for an already boring, yet young life. In the midst of all adversities, however, Estrelain found solace in the raising, riding and caring for the local chocobos, by the Holy Stables, where he humbly served as a stable boy in parallel with his occupation at Noillurel Manor, where he worked as a book-keep. Evenly paralleled by others, Estrelain developed a very strong connection with the creatures, and shaping himself into a passionately decent rider.</font></div><br> |
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">Yet, the life of a custodian, for an eighteen winters-lived Estrlain was not satisfying and fulfilling enough, and he often dreaded of not living up to the standards he had promised to himself---and secretly to his father. Because of this, the wildwood channeled his life and actions into the emulation of his peers, seeking to blend with the others. His mind was set: to achieve such objective he had to be looking for a mentor of sword, and with the baggage of knowledge he had built up, a mentor of mind. And with what little thread he had left between the doors of the mansion he served and his heart, the young wildwood escaped in the middle of the night, sneaking inside the provisioning caravan that used to travel to House de Noillurel every early sun. Crouching behind boxes of reagan peppers and sacks of oats, he was able to elude the inspections of the gatekeeps and usher himself into the verdant highlands he had planned to free himself by.</font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1563]■ Yet, the life of a custodian, for an eighteen winters-lived Estrlain was not satisfying and fulfilling enough, and he often dreaded of not living up to the standards he had promised to himself---and secretly to his father. Because of this, the wildwood channeled his life and actions into the emulation of his peers, seeking to blend with the others. His mind was set: to achieve such objective he had to be looking for a mentor of sword, and with the baggage of knowledge he had built up, a mentor of mind. And with what little thread he had left between the doors of the mansion he served and his heart, the young wildwood escaped in the middle of the night, sneaking inside the provisioning caravan that used to travel to House de Noillurel every early sun. Crouching behind boxes of reagan peppers and sacks of oats, he was able to elude the inspections of the gatekeeps and usher himself into the verdant highlands he had planned to free himself by.</font></div><br> |
<td style="width: 50%;vertical-align: top;font-size:9pt;font-family:Helvetica;"><h3><span class="mw-headline"> | <td style="width: 50%;vertical-align: top;font-size:9pt;font-family:Helvetica;"><h3><span class="mw-headline"> | ||
| Line 193: | Line 193: | ||
<div style="padding:0px 10px; font-size:18px;color:#5F5F5F;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px silver;">'''Learning'''</div> | <div style="padding:0px 10px; font-size:18px;color:#5F5F5F;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px silver;">'''Learning'''</div> | ||
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">Careful to leave no detail to fate, and conscious of being the master of his own destiny, young Estrelain set foot in Coerthas, right about outside the Gates of Judgement. Equipped with nothing more but a shortsword and a chainmail, he left the home of those who would see him locked in a stale-smelling chamber, with the company of flies and books of disputably suitable precepts. With suns of travels and moons of vigil, the wildwood reached the westernmost borders of the Griffin Crossing, where he was attacked first-hand by a group of bandits hailing from the southern regions of Aldenard. Furnished with a heart abundant in resolve, Estrlain fought them off, scaring them away before he could injure the would-be-robbers to death. As his attention was recalled by a pair of gauntlets clapping against each-other in commendation for Estrelain, he located the source of the expression of compliment. A man, a wildwood, possibly as tall as he was greeted the adventurous Ishgardian, presenting himself Ser Mauricel Rennebaud. | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1563-64]■ Careful to leave no detail to fate, and conscious of being the master of his own destiny, young Estrelain set foot in Coerthas, right about outside the Gates of Judgement. Equipped with nothing more but a shortsword and a chainmail, he left the home of those who would see him locked in a stale-smelling chamber, with the company of flies and books of disputably suitable precepts. With suns of travels and moons of vigil, the wildwood reached the westernmost borders of the Griffin Crossing, where he was attacked first-hand by a group of bandits hailing from the southern regions of Aldenard. Furnished with a heart abundant in resolve, Estrlain fought them off, scaring them away before he could injure the would-be-robbers to death. As his attention was recalled by a pair of gauntlets clapping against each-other in commendation for Estrelain, he located the source of the expression of compliment. A man, a wildwood, possibly as tall as he was greeted the adventurous Ishgardian, presenting himself Ser Mauricel Rennebaud. The old, yet dignified elezen explained Estrelain how pleased he was to see that a man so young would so fervently fight for his own life, and without a hint of fear; and without a question and an answer, Ser Rennebaud proposed Estrelain training and honing, with an education in the knightly disciplines. Certainly, the wildwood could not contain his joy, but decided to be showing himself even more eager to learn, by manifesting little emotion and solemn contemplation, furthering Ser Rennebaud's belief in Estrelain's worth. Bells under the icy waters of the northern lakes, swordplaying among karakuls, ewes and peistes alike, there was no activity the elderly elezen would not drive Estrelain towards, from the simple preparing of a mistletoe tea to fending off a dash of steel.</font></div><br> |
| − | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1565]■ And thus, with great dedication, Ser Rennebaud not only offered a home in his Observatorium post, but also a grindstone and a mallet to sharpen Estrelain in a man fit for the Temple Knights. Nurturing in the teachings, the wildwood learned to use a variety of arms at intermediate skills, with the exception of the spear which he seemed to be much more proficient with compared to the other weapons. However, Estrelain was not satisfied with this, and attempted to seek further enhancement of his ability with a blade, in a desperate attempt to be exactly of the same caliber of his late father. Ser Rennebaud, quite oppositely, reminded the young man that pride and denial were enemies much more cunning than those fought in a war, hence to pay less mind to conviction, and more to embracing one's true self. Given such weighting words, Estrelain pondered upon them for moons, while continuing his rigorous training, yet he remained of the will to improve with the sword and cast any other talent aside.</font></div><br> | |
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">And thus, with great dedication, Ser Rennebaud not only offered a home in his Observatorium post, but also a grindstone and a mallet to sharpen Estrelain in a man fit for the Temple Knights. Nurturing in the teachings, the wildwood learned to use a variety of arms at intermediate skills, with the exception of the spear which he seemed to be much more proficient with compared to the other weapons. However, Estrelain was not satisfied with this, and attempted to seek further enhancement of his ability with a blade, in a desperate attempt to be exactly of the same caliber of his late father. Ser Rennebaud, quite oppositely, reminded the young man that pride and denial were enemies much more cunning than those fought in a war, hence to pay less mind to conviction, and more to embracing one's true self. Given such weighting words, Estrelain pondered upon them for moons, while continuing his rigorous training, yet he remained of the will to improve with the sword and cast any other talent aside.</font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1567]■ The natural and genuine behavior of a man is often shown in the moments of need and open peril. Ser Rennebaud was attending a ceremony within the walls of Ishgard, leaving Estrelain alone at his post, tasking him with reading a novel about Saint Reinette. With the nearing of ferocious screeches and cries, Estrelain made grasp for the first and only weapon at his disposal: a lance. Carrying himself outside, he was shocked to be shown the horror of several men rent and maimed by a Dravanian wyvern. Yet in utter quiet, Estrelain climbed and reached for one of the roofs about the Observatorium, pinning his sight upon the scaled fury making char of its targets. A breath, an inhalation, and a moment of silence. Estrelain disengaged his body weight from the edge of the roof, making tight hold of his weapon between two clenched fists and thrust the left wing of the beast side to side. Unbelieving of what he had achieved, he was soon attacked by the still-living wyvern, dodging several sudden snaps of the creature's maw and rolling to the side, weaponless. And with what seemed to be preternatural stamina, the beast attacked him once more, lifting itself from the ground with a lance still through its wing. Estrelain was caught in panic, and grasped for an escape or at least something to intimidate the wyvern with. Nothing on the sight, Estrelain had finally realized there would have been no chance of survival, thus, embracing a direct, armor and weaponless clash against his opponent. He dashed forward, rolling underneath the beast, recollecting his spear from its wing and delivered yet one more wheeled thrust upon the enemy's flank, cutting the side of its stomach. The wyvern screeched in pain, leaving the Observatorium for the north in a dolorous flight. Estrelain had defeated a wyvern, and he did not realize he had done it with the weapon he scorned most.</font></div><br> |
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">The natural and genuine behavior of a man is often shown in the moments of need and open peril. Ser Rennebaud was attending a ceremony within the walls of Ishgard, leaving Estrelain alone at his post, tasking him with reading a novel about Saint Reinette. With the nearing of ferocious screeches and cries, Estrelain made grasp for the first and only weapon at his disposal: a lance. Carrying himself outside, he was shocked to be shown the horror of several men rent and maimed by a Dravanian wyvern. Yet in utter quiet, Estrelain climbed and reached for one of the roofs about the Observatorium, pinning his sight upon the scaled fury making char of its targets. A breath, an inhalation, and a moment of silence. Estrelain disengaged his body weight from the edge of the roof, making tight hold of his weapon between two clenched fists and thrust the left wing of the beast side to side. Unbelieving of what he had achieved, he was soon attacked by the still-living wyvern, dodging several sudden snaps of the creature's maw and rolling to the side, weaponless. And with what seemed to be preternatural stamina, the beast attacked him once more, lifting itself from the ground with a lance still through its wing. Estrelain was caught in panic, and grasped for an escape or at least something to intimidate the wyvern with. Nothing on the sight, Estrelain had finally realized there would have been no chance of survival, thus, embracing a direct, armor and weaponless clash against his opponent. He dashed forward, rolling underneath the beast, recollecting his spear from its wing and delivered yet one more wheeled thrust upon the enemy's flank, cutting the side of its stomach. The wyvern screeched in pain, leaving the Observatorium for the north in a dolorous flight. Estrelain had defeated a wyvern, and he did not realize he had done it with the weapon he scorned most.</font></div><br> | ||
</tr> | </tr> | ||
<tr> | <tr> | ||
<td style="width: 50%;vertical-align: top;font-size:9pt;font-family:Helvetica;"><h3> | <td style="width: 50%;vertical-align: top;font-size:9pt;font-family:Helvetica;"><h3> | ||
| − | <div style="padding:10px 35px;background: #909090;font-size:14px;color:#ffffff;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px black"><center>'''CARTENEAU (1571 S.A.E. to | + | <div style="padding:10px 35px;background: #909090;font-size:14px;color:#ffffff;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px black"><center>'''CARTENEAU (1571 S.A.E. to 1572 S.U.E.)'''</center></div></h3> |
<div style="padding:0px 10px; font-size:18px;color:#5F5F5F;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px silver;">'''Beyond the Calamity'''</div> | <div style="padding:0px 10px; font-size:18px;color:#5F5F5F;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px silver;">'''Beyond the Calamity'''</div> | ||
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">With Gaius van Baelsar appointed Legatus of the XIVth Legion of the Garlean Empire, and his ultimatum to the City-States of Eorzea, the gates of Ishgard were closed in cold and distanced reasons, while the Eorzean Alliance fought forth onto the fieds of Carteneau in a last stand against the imperial forces. When the believed Lesser Moon Dalamud was lured to the flats of battle, Estrelain could see the eldritch crimson the satellite brought with itself, sun by sun, nearing Aldenard even more. Ser Rennebaud, foreseeing the changes Eorzea would have experienced with the years to come, cautioned Estrelain to escape both Coerthas and the terrible fate that would have been cast upon the lands. Hence, Estrelain, in utter refusal to abandon his mentor to the solitude of the Observatorium and an uncertain destiny, insisted that the honourable knight followed along, casting an eye of damnation upon the Holy See. Yet, Ser Rennebaud remained solid to his post, stalwart and firm in conviction, but bitterly unlikely what he had shown himself to be up to the moment. Estrelain, however, took a step back on his stance, and boundlessly loyal to the old knight, stated he would have then faced the same fate of his trainer...and friend, like a true man of Ishgard. In a rash attempt to secure his pupil's safety, Ser Rennebaud not only refused to let Estrelain stay, but additionally stripped him of apprenticeship, banishing him away from his dome, into the highlands. The sad, and painful choice of the old man, however, was the only way he could oblige Estrelain to save himself, and while in fact the young Ishgardian had understood the motives, could not avoid an increasingly surging sense of abandonment both by a friend and by his own people. </font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1571-72 S.A.E.]■ With Gaius van Baelsar appointed Legatus of the XIVth Legion of the Garlean Empire, and his ultimatum to the City-States of Eorzea, the gates of Ishgard were closed in cold and distanced reasons, while the Eorzean Alliance fought forth onto the fieds of Carteneau in a last stand against the imperial forces. When the believed Lesser Moon Dalamud was lured to the flats of battle, Estrelain could see the eldritch crimson the satellite brought with itself, sun by sun, nearing Aldenard even more. Ser Rennebaud, foreseeing the changes Eorzea would have experienced with the years to come, cautioned Estrelain to escape both Coerthas and the terrible fate that would have been cast upon the lands. Hence, Estrelain, in utter refusal to abandon his mentor to the solitude of the Observatorium and an uncertain destiny, insisted that the honourable knight followed along, casting an eye of damnation upon the Holy See. Yet, Ser Rennebaud remained solid to his post, stalwart and firm in conviction, but bitterly unlikely what he had shown himself to be up to the moment. Estrelain, however, took a step back on his stance, and boundlessly loyal to the old knight, stated he would have then faced the same fate of his trainer...and friend, like a true man of Ishgard. In a rash attempt to secure his pupil's safety, Ser Rennebaud not only refused to let Estrelain stay, but additionally stripped him of apprenticeship, banishing him away from his dome, into the highlands. The sad, and painful choice of the old man, however, was the only way he could oblige Estrelain to save himself, and while in fact the young Ishgardian had understood the motives, could not avoid an increasingly surging sense of abandonment both by a friend and by his own people. </font></div><br> |
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">Estrelain Helaraint, as he had decided to word his name from that bell into the future, dejectedly left the walls of Ser Rennebaud's post in the First Dicasterial Observatorium of Aetherial and Astrological Phenomena, a dry and warm sun of a summer of 1572 S.U.E., flocking into the warmer climates of the Black Shroud. Armed with nothing but a suit of scale mail and a lance in his hand, a confused, defeated and seething wildwood dragged himself to the hamlet of Fallgourd Float, where he saw the destructive power of the Elder Primal Bahamut wreak havoc and death upon the realm. Yet in the bell of doom, as the crystalline explosions of Aether forever changed the lands for a more twisted, still beautiful sight, a flash of light followed and a terrified Estrelain, as many more of the people that had turned to the streets to cry at the sky in desperation, were invested by it. And the furious dreadwyrm had disappeared, so had the cries of Carteneau, leaving Estrelain unharmed and able to tend to the needs and wounds of those injured at the borders of the Black Shroud.</font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1572 S.U.E.]■ Estrelain Helaraint, as he had decided to word his name from that bell into the future, dejectedly left the walls of Ser Rennebaud's post in the First Dicasterial Observatorium of Aetherial and Astrological Phenomena, a dry and warm sun of a summer of 1572 S.U.E., flocking into the warmer climates of the Black Shroud. Armed with nothing but a suit of scale mail and a lance in his hand, a confused, defeated and seething wildwood dragged himself to the hamlet of Fallgourd Float, where he saw the destructive power of the Elder Primal Bahamut wreak havoc and death upon the realm. Yet in the bell of doom, as the crystalline explosions of Aether forever changed the lands for a more twisted, still beautiful sight, a flash of light followed and a terrified Estrelain, as many more of the people that had turned to the streets to cry at the sky in desperation, were invested by it. And the furious dreadwyrm had disappeared, so had the cries of Carteneau, leaving Estrelain unharmed and able to tend to the needs and wounds of those injured at the borders of the Black Shroud.</font></div><br> |
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">Almost opposedly to his very beliefs, which would have seen him loathing for moons, Estrelain helped the north Shroud the way he could, by fetching water, cleaning flesh wounds, and proposing himself more as a medic than as a warrior, since there was less than no need for arms. Nothing had risen, no beasts had dared to approach the borders of Fallgourd Float for suns, thus making him capable of learning the basic of first aid. As a man with not a considerable amount of perks besides those he had gained in his life, Estrelain restlessly marked his effort to aid the inn he stayed in, rebuilding fences with the workers, tilling soils with the farmers. He had pride, but he had also a heart. And in his mind, he would put it to use, not to seethe, not to disdain. Only to help. The Calamity had softened the scales of his armour as much as his ways.</font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1572]■ Almost opposedly to his very beliefs, which would have seen him loathing for moons, Estrelain helped the north Shroud the way he could, by fetching water, cleaning flesh wounds, and proposing himself more as a medic than as a warrior, since there was less than no need for arms. Nothing had risen, no beasts had dared to approach the borders of Fallgourd Float for suns, thus making him capable of learning the basic of first aid. As a man with not a considerable amount of perks besides those he had gained in his life, Estrelain restlessly marked his effort to aid the inn he stayed in, rebuilding fences with the workers, tilling soils with the farmers. He had pride, but he had also a heart. And in his mind, he would put it to use, not to seethe, not to disdain. Only to help. The Calamity had softened the scales of his armour as much as his ways.</font></div><br> |
<td style="width: 50%;vertical-align: top;font-size:9pt;font-family:Helvetica;"><h3><span class="mw-headline"> | <td style="width: 50%;vertical-align: top;font-size:9pt;font-family:Helvetica;"><h3><span class="mw-headline"> | ||
| − | <div style="padding:10px 35px; background: #B8B8B8;font-size:14px;color:#ffffff;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px black"><center>'''ARRIVAL AT THE MILL ( | + | <div style="padding:10px 35px; background: #B8B8B8;font-size:14px;color:#ffffff;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px black"><center>'''ARRIVAL AT THE MILL (1572 to 1577 S.U.E.)'''</center></div></span></h3> |
<div style="padding:0px 10px; font-size:18px;color:#5F5F5F;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px silver;">'''Time as an exile and the making of a man'''</div> | <div style="padding:0px 10px; font-size:18px;color:#5F5F5F;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px silver;">'''Time as an exile and the making of a man'''</div> | ||
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">Bells, suns and moons had passed since the Calamity, and Estrelain had thrown his last share of coin into the moonly staying at the Bobbing Cork of Fallgourd Float. He had established a small errands-related source of income for himself, given that among all other regions, the Twelveswood had received most damage due to the dreadwyrm's attack and employment possibilities had collapsed together with many portions of the Black Shroud. A mellowed and changed Estrelain, witness to the destruction of the Elder Primal, struggled to regain consciousness of his life past, further condemning his homeland for its closed-mindedness. However, even if stirring inside, he would always remain tranquil and placid to his peers, understanding of the fact that while he was damaged, so were the people of his newfound land. The wildwood, in fact, not only started to attempt a blend with the inhabitants of the Shroud, but also help them as much as he could, in recognition and appreciation for being allowed to roam its paths and seek asylum in the shade of its beauty. Soon, Estrelain marched north-easternwards to the little settlement of Hyrstmill where he had heard retired warriors, injured ones and estranged souls sought reprieve from their punishing lives.</font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1572]■ Bells, suns and moons had passed since the Calamity, and Estrelain had thrown his last share of coin into the moonly staying at the Bobbing Cork of Fallgourd Float. He had established a small errands-related source of income for himself, given that among all other regions, the Twelveswood had received most damage due to the dreadwyrm's attack and employment possibilities had collapsed together with many portions of the Black Shroud. A mellowed and changed Estrelain, witness to the destruction of the Elder Primal, struggled to regain consciousness of his life past, further condemning his homeland for its closed-mindedness. However, even if stirring inside, he would always remain tranquil and placid to his peers, understanding of the fact that while he was damaged, so were the people of his newfound land. The wildwood, in fact, not only started to attempt a blend with the inhabitants of the Shroud, but also help them as much as he could, in recognition and appreciation for being allowed to roam its paths and seek asylum in the shade of its beauty. Soon, Estrelain marched north-easternwards to the little settlement of Hyrstmill where he had heard retired warriors, injured ones and estranged souls sought reprieve from their punishing lives.</font></div><br> |
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">Time allowing, Estrelain found refuge in the common dormitory of the hamlet of Hyrstmill, while noticing how close he was to Gridania, he learned he would find proper employment if he had spurred himself into its very heart. And thus Estrelain walked the red, yellow and orange paths of the northern Shroud, until, greeted by the Yellow Serpent Gate, he was stopped for examination and questioning. The thin and tired Estrelain could not do anything but to explain where he hailed from, already abandoned to the idea they would have denied him entrance. To his very surprise, however, the gatekeeps allowed him a pass and the man, after a thankful and polite bow, directed himself where he would have found coin and training at the same. The Wailing Barracks of Gridania were not only a place for strange and all-types-assorted individuals, but also home to the protectors of the Gridanian borders and valiant warriors of the polearm: the lancers. The Wood Wailers, or so were named those who achieved the highest training in lancing, were placed everywhere within the Shroud, posts, fortresses and gates. An objective in common within, the protection of the Shroud and its very people. As Estrelain was able to explain his stance to the masters, he finally was admitted as a recruit. Years had passed, and with the righteously imposed training, both in the Barracks and outside, the young man had finally escaped his adolescence and turned into a man proper. With a peaceful demeanor and solemn presence, Estrelain was a new creature, reshaped into the bark of the strongest trees. Diligence, duty and honor, a stranger, in a strange land, in fact. Yet there was no night without a return to Hyrstmill, as every humble warrior would.</font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1573]■ Time allowing, Estrelain found refuge in the common dormitory of the hamlet of Hyrstmill, while noticing how close he was to Gridania, he learned he would find proper employment if he had spurred himself into its very heart. And thus Estrelain walked the red, yellow and orange paths of the northern Shroud, until, greeted by the Yellow Serpent Gate, he was stopped for examination and questioning. The thin and tired Estrelain could not do anything but to explain where he hailed from, already abandoned to the idea they would have denied him entrance. To his very surprise, however, the gatekeeps allowed him a pass and the man, after a thankful and polite bow, directed himself where he would have found coin and training at the same. The Wailing Barracks of Gridania were not only a place for strange and all-types-assorted individuals, but also home to the protectors of the Gridanian borders and valiant warriors of the polearm: the lancers. The Wood Wailers, or so were named those who achieved the highest training in lancing, were placed everywhere within the Shroud, posts, fortresses and gates. An objective in common within, the protection of the Shroud and its very people. As Estrelain was able to explain his stance to the masters, he finally was admitted as a recruit. Years had passed, and with the righteously imposed training, both in the Barracks and outside, the young man had finally escaped his adolescence and turned into a man proper. With a peaceful demeanor and solemn presence, Estrelain was a new creature, reshaped into the bark of the strongest trees. Diligence, duty and honor, a stranger, in a strange land, in fact. Yet there was no night without a return to Hyrstmill, as every humble warrior would.</font></div><br> |
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">Quite in the midst of his training with the Wailers, Estrelain was approached by a man in yellow, introducing himself as a Serpent Lieutenant of the Order of the Twin Adder. Of course, the wildwood had met and assisted the Serpents in the past, whether through the direct orders of the trainers or by simple good-will, he had in fact already come in contact with the Grand Company. Yet, that time, he was there to be asked to join the ranks, as a soldier. Estrelain, even if doubtful regarding the offer, followed the man to the Adders' Nest, and by seeing the great zeal the men and women that worked in its hall put in their duty, the wildwood felt a rush of admiration for those brave souls surging through his veins, and he, before he could be even asked officially, requested admittance at the counter. Estrelain Helaraint had signed to become a Serpent Private.</font></div><br> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1574]■ Quite in the midst of his training with the Wailers, Estrelain was approached by a man in yellow, introducing himself as a Serpent Lieutenant of the Order of the Twin Adder. Of course, the wildwood had met and assisted the Serpents in the past, whether through the direct orders of the trainers or by simple good-will, he had in fact already come in contact with the Grand Company. Yet, that time, he was there to be asked to join the ranks, as a soldier. Estrelain, even if doubtful regarding the offer, followed the man to the Adders' Nest, and by seeing the great zeal the men and women that worked in its hall put in their duty, the wildwood felt a rush of admiration for those brave souls surging through his veins, and he, before he could be even asked officially, requested admittance at the counter. Estrelain Helaraint had signed to become a Serpent Private.</font></div><br> |
</tr></table></div> | </tr></table></div> | ||
| Line 219: | Line 218: | ||
<tr> | <tr> | ||
<td style="width: 50%;vertical-align: top;font-size:9pt;font-family:Helvetica;"><h3><span class="mw-headline"> | <td style="width: 50%;vertical-align: top;font-size:9pt;font-family:Helvetica;"><h3><span class="mw-headline"> | ||
| − | <div style="padding:10px 35px; background: #A0A0A0;font-size:14px;color:#ffffff;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px black"><center>'''THE WEIGHTING OF FATE (1577 to ???)'''</center></div></span></h3> | + | <div style="padding:10px 35px; background: #A0A0A0;font-size:14px;color:#ffffff;font-family:Georgia;text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px black"><center>'''THE WEIGHTING OF FATE (1577 S.U.E. to ???)'''</center></div></span></h3> |
<div align=justify><div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#585350;font-family:Georgia;">'''Disclaimer:''' All of the details here are expected to be kept OOC unless an individual is given the information by Estrelain personally. | <div align=justify><div style="padding: 7px 4px;font-size:13px; color:#585350;font-family:Georgia;">'''Disclaimer:''' All of the details here are expected to be kept OOC unless an individual is given the information by Estrelain personally. | ||
| Line 228: | Line 227: | ||
: <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1577]■ Estrél had continued his life as a Serpent, as an advanced lancing trainee and ultimately, but primarily to his spirit, as a proud warrior of Hyrstmill, his only place he could truly call 'home'. Since Carteneau, some years had passed and the man had finally placed himself in a higher position among the Grand Company of Gridania. With his efforts, especially those conducted within the northern sides of the Shroud, he was appointed the honorific of Serpent Sergeant; such title, allowed Estrelain to keep himself busy between both patrolling the Twelveswood, gathering further information and knowledge regarding the lands, and paperwork cupped by office-related duties. It was often custom of him to be tending to the immigration processes of other outlanders, ironically for him being a stranger himself. The Order of the Twin Adder had shown itself as homely as the Barracks and as Hyrstmill, but the hardened, yet soothed man held respect utmost not to the places, yet to the people. Clashing in spirits with his very will of improvement, the life of a Serpent Sergeant Lancer was not unsatisfying for him, for he had changed to the softer and less ambitious side of himself. Yet, as any man capable of recognizing uncertainties and not ashamed to admit doubt, he yet seemed to be missing a piece in his life, thusly remaining incomplete. Had his mind not thrown him into wild dreams of rejoining his old homeland Estrelain would stay a simple man, but recently, with his increased interest towards blacksmithing and carpentry, he began questioning his own choices again, and ready to haul himself into battle once more to reclaim his lost ambition, the wildwood started seeking companions to travel north, where snows had fallen and where his skin had not felt the winds of for years.</font></div> | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1577]■ Estrél had continued his life as a Serpent, as an advanced lancing trainee and ultimately, but primarily to his spirit, as a proud warrior of Hyrstmill, his only place he could truly call 'home'. Since Carteneau, some years had passed and the man had finally placed himself in a higher position among the Grand Company of Gridania. With his efforts, especially those conducted within the northern sides of the Shroud, he was appointed the honorific of Serpent Sergeant; such title, allowed Estrelain to keep himself busy between both patrolling the Twelveswood, gathering further information and knowledge regarding the lands, and paperwork cupped by office-related duties. It was often custom of him to be tending to the immigration processes of other outlanders, ironically for him being a stranger himself. The Order of the Twin Adder had shown itself as homely as the Barracks and as Hyrstmill, but the hardened, yet soothed man held respect utmost not to the places, yet to the people. Clashing in spirits with his very will of improvement, the life of a Serpent Sergeant Lancer was not unsatisfying for him, for he had changed to the softer and less ambitious side of himself. Yet, as any man capable of recognizing uncertainties and not ashamed to admit doubt, he yet seemed to be missing a piece in his life, thusly remaining incomplete. Had his mind not thrown him into wild dreams of rejoining his old homeland Estrelain would stay a simple man, but recently, with his increased interest towards blacksmithing and carpentry, he began questioning his own choices again, and ready to haul himself into battle once more to reclaim his lost ambition, the wildwood started seeking companions to travel north, where snows had fallen and where his skin had not felt the winds of for years.</font></div> | ||
| − | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">■ While returning from one of his patrols in the woods, Estrelain dropped armor and weapon to the coffer at the feet of his bed, as he entered the common dormitory of Hyrstmill. Changing into more comfortable clothes, he pushed himself outside, towards the waterwheel, only accompanied by a faint Menphina in the sky and the red hues of the foliage underneath his steps. With the small torrent ramming west-to-east the peaceful hamlet, Estré sighed in relief, inhaling some of the air carried by the warm winds that had traveled the Shroud for the sun entire. The lancer, was plucked in attention by a particular scent, pervading the very gusts of breeze that danced upon his loose clothes. Roses and blossoms of roses, a smell terrifyingly familiar to the man, cast interest and wonder upon the origins, being roses flowers or his own lands and less of the Twelveswood. Yet, incapable of explaining the implications, his soul stirred, roared, and awakened to the perfumed breaths of that wind, reminding Estrelain of being nonetheless a stranger. Yet, Clelia, the midlander porter that had oft-visited the Mill, arrived with the nightly delivery of spirits for the local tavern, and Estrelain was soon dragged away from his less happy thoughts to help the young woman unload her cart. As he followed the woman to the gates, to bid her farewell, Estrelain was thanked for his help, however, before they could even part ways, Mistalle, the loving chocobo of the woman had cried in pain. Unbeknownst to the both, the creature had fallen ill many moons before and in a matter of instants she exhaled her last breath. A heartbroken Clelia could not even weep, for the chocobo had ejected an unhatched egg with her last threads of strength. Estrelain, knowing what to do with it, explained the egg needed care and tending, therefore convinced the woman to allow him to bring it -in a rush through the night-, to the Bentbranch Meadows stables, where, with the aid of the chocobokeeps they were able to give the egg a new mother, Douilie, a turquoise-feathered chocobo. Finally Clelia was able to bury Mistalle ontop of the cliff overlooking Everschade. The woman later asked Estrelain to take care of the hatchling that would have soon come out of the egg, and he accepted, promising the woman he would and with the utmost care. The Meadows, in fact, had been visited by the wildwood almost sunly, after his duties, to assert the conditions of the eggs, until, finally a little female chripling saw the light of the life. Being asked what name he would give the little chocobo, Estrlain responded he meant to call her 'Hauteclaire'. Being such the name of the fabled sword of legend his father always spoke of, he finally came to the realization that he needed not to emulate his father to be worthy, but only to try and be the good man he was. Thus, if he could not do it through wielding a sword, he brought himself comfort in knowing that same sword would then accompany him forward in the form of a steed, and his father, with it.</font></div> | + | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1577]■ While returning from one of his patrols in the woods, Estrelain dropped armor and weapon to the coffer at the feet of his bed, as he entered the common dormitory of Hyrstmill. Changing into more comfortable clothes, he pushed himself outside, towards the waterwheel, only accompanied by a faint Menphina in the sky and the red hues of the foliage underneath his steps. With the small torrent ramming west-to-east the peaceful hamlet, Estré sighed in relief, inhaling some of the air carried by the warm winds that had traveled the Shroud for the sun entire. The lancer, was plucked in attention by a particular scent, pervading the very gusts of breeze that danced upon his loose clothes. Roses and blossoms of roses, a smell terrifyingly familiar to the man, cast interest and wonder upon the origins, being roses flowers or his own lands and less of the Twelveswood. Yet, incapable of explaining the implications, his soul stirred, roared, and awakened to the perfumed breaths of that wind, reminding Estrelain of being nonetheless a stranger. Yet, Clelia, the midlander porter that had oft-visited the Mill, arrived with the nightly delivery of spirits for the local tavern, and Estrelain was soon dragged away from his less happy thoughts to help the young woman unload her cart. As he followed the woman to the gates, to bid her farewell, Estrelain was thanked for his help, however, before they could even part ways, Mistalle, the loving chocobo of the woman had cried in pain. Unbeknownst to the both, the creature had fallen ill many moons before and in a matter of instants she exhaled her last breath. A heartbroken Clelia could not even weep, for the chocobo had ejected an unhatched egg with her last threads of strength. Estrelain, knowing what to do with it, explained the egg needed care and tending, therefore convinced the woman to allow him to bring it -in a rush through the night-, to the Bentbranch Meadows stables, where, with the aid of the chocobokeeps they were able to give the egg a new mother, Douilie, a turquoise-feathered chocobo. Finally Clelia was able to bury Mistalle ontop of the cliff overlooking Everschade. The woman later asked Estrelain to take care of the hatchling that would have soon come out of the egg, and he accepted, promising the woman he would and with the utmost care. The Meadows, in fact, had been visited by the wildwood almost sunly, after his duties, to assert the conditions of the eggs, until, finally a little female chripling saw the light of the life. Being asked what name he would give the little chocobo, Estrlain responded he meant to call her 'Hauteclaire'. Being such the name of the fabled sword of legend his father always spoke of, he finally came to the realization that he needed not to emulate his father to be worthy, but only to try and be the good man he was. Thus, if he could not do it through wielding a sword, he brought himself comfort in knowing that same sword would then accompany him forward in the form of a steed, and his father, with it.</font></div> |
: <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1578]■ During his sixth year since the Calamity, Estrelain brought himself to the jolly outlet of Mister Rolfe Hawthorne and his wife in the eastern reaches of the Twelveswood, in hope to meet and seek guidance within an old traveler, "Longinus the Coaly" that was said to be dwelling its perimeter, other than being known as an habitué of the Sweetbloom Pier eatery. Accompanied by his now grown and loyal companion, Hauteclaire, whom was trained in combat since the second half of her first year, Estrelain ventured into the deeper corners of that side of the Shroud, where myths and reality were said to be walking hand in hand. Nonetheless, the wildwood was unable to find the man he so spiritedly wished to ask advice from, as the people of the Hawthorne Hut had told him the vagrant had left suns before for Othard. Quite in the disappointment, Estrelain felt another rush through his leg, one of surging power, as if his blood had been warmed up just suddenly to return to its usual temperature. The injuries he had received previously, while freely fending off a flock of Ixal, were not the reason of such situation, given they had healed completely, yet he could feel the reasonable comfort of the wind refreshing his neck, bringing with itself, once again the unparalleled noble scent of roses. Estrelain returned to Hyrstmill that same sun, yet with more doubts in his mind than those he had left the dormitory with, in the early bells.</font></div><br></tr></table></div> | : <div style="font-family:Georgia;"><font style="color:#585350;" size="2">[1578]■ During his sixth year since the Calamity, Estrelain brought himself to the jolly outlet of Mister Rolfe Hawthorne and his wife in the eastern reaches of the Twelveswood, in hope to meet and seek guidance within an old traveler, "Longinus the Coaly" that was said to be dwelling its perimeter, other than being known as an habitué of the Sweetbloom Pier eatery. Accompanied by his now grown and loyal companion, Hauteclaire, whom was trained in combat since the second half of her first year, Estrelain ventured into the deeper corners of that side of the Shroud, where myths and reality were said to be walking hand in hand. Nonetheless, the wildwood was unable to find the man he so spiritedly wished to ask advice from, as the people of the Hawthorne Hut had told him the vagrant had left suns before for Othard. Quite in the disappointment, Estrelain felt another rush through his leg, one of surging power, as if his blood had been warmed up just suddenly to return to its usual temperature. The injuries he had received previously, while freely fending off a flock of Ixal, were not the reason of such situation, given they had healed completely, yet he could feel the reasonable comfort of the wind refreshing his neck, bringing with itself, once again the unparalleled noble scent of roses. Estrelain returned to Hyrstmill that same sun, yet with more doubts in his mind than those he had left the dormitory with, in the early bells.</font></div><br></tr></table></div> | ||
Revision as of 17:37, 7 October 2015
|
■ CURRENT ALIAS... Estrelain ■ PAST ALIASES... Estrél, grey vagrant ■ RACE & CLAN... Elezen, Wildwood ■ GENDER... Male ■ AGE & NAMEDAY... Thirty-three & 2nd Sun of the 1st Astral Moon, 1545 S.A.E. ■ HEIGHT & WEIGHT... 7 fulms, 1 ilm & 215 ponzes ■ STATUS... Alive, estranged |
■ CITIZENSHIP... Gridanian, Ishgardian ■ FAMILY... de Helaraint & d'Oraguille ■ RESIDENCE... Outskirts of Hyrstmill ■ OCCUPATION... Serpent Sergeant, Lancer Trainee ■ ALLEGIANCES... the Order of the Twin Adder, the Wailing Barracks ■ PATRON DEITY... Halone, the Fury ■ ALIGNMENT... Chaotic Good |
GENERAL INFORMATION
APPEARANCE
- Worn Items of Note
- ■ Dark-silver braid-beads.
- ■ Two ear-clasps, intricate in the design and silvery in the detail, both applied to his ears.
- ■ A Wooden bead-bracelet and wooden ring, apparently bearing the same craftsmanship.
PERSONALITY
|
|
|
DEFINING TRAITS
Reason as defining trait and ability of Estrelain. In a world, where injustice, joy and mellowness entwine as intricately as the stems and thorns of beautiful roses, the ability to discern what is right and what is wrong is only an illusion transmitted by those of power, to the mind of this son of Eorzea. Therefore, he firmly believes that the keys to a more harmonious world manifest themselves through acceptance and the cold calculation of events in equal measure. Estrelain is a resolute man, capable of understanding much more than what he allows the others to believe, and to his own improvement, he strives to seek the right in the actions, rather than the speculation, valuing good effort much more than a too-oft shared claim. Thus, he is unbelieving of most occurrences unless directly shown or proven, practically. He does not disdain worship, being him a child of Halone, but he has his own way of understanding religion, as always placing reason before everything. |
Eidetic memory is the ability to recall visual information, such as pages from books and other visual sources, in great detail after only brief exposure to it. Within Estrelain, this trait developed in early childhood, and was nurtured by his father and grandparents to allow him to more readily retain information from whatever source he might learn from. The ability was nurtured very early on, and the man is not afraid to report his findings, no matter the activity he is attending to. This has proven to be particularly useful when, as a recruit of the Adders he was asked to identify a man of dubious claims, therefore solving the case and granting himself access to the kind attention of his superiors. To this day, he makes use of his unredeemed quality whenever necessary. |
Photo-reflexiveness is the pinnacle of the rare genetic trait found in those with an eidetic memory. The ability to become physically attuned to the movements of others simply by witnessing them, gaining their expertise and experience through mere moments or less depending on how comfortable one is with their trait. Once seen or heard, the user is permanently filled with the knowledge, and their body adapts to be able to perform it to the best of its ability. Training is required for the body to meet the challenges presented by the absorbed information. This ability also functions as highly accelerated learning, as the user can do whatever they wish with their new knowledge - even building upon what they have witnessed, not limited to simply mirroring what has been observed. |
COMBAT & WEAPONRY
A man who prefers to split his focus between a variety of combat styles, and who has some experience to draw from, he spends a hefty portion of time honing his body and mind equally. Much of his strength comes from the raw muscle he has built, but he supplements himself heavily with food, exercise and even simple walks to further reinforce his body and increase its capabilities. When pushed, he can be quite the terrifying combatant.
Estrelain aspired to be a Temple Knight in his earlier years. He was particularly fond of exercising his strength through arms, and like many other children of the Holy See, he often sparred with his peers to enhance his own proficiency with them. No moment shall be left to fate, for Estrelain, in fact the man drives the will to improve himself particularly closely with the weapons of his choice. Swords, shields, bows, all were optimal candidates for the young man.
When he was finally admitted to be examined by the Temple Knights, the wildwood wasn't selected as a wielder of the sword to his very delusion; consequently, he was asked to retry with another weapon. Little did he know, that his choice to refuse was only the beginning of what later in his life, could be seen as the most intense training of his, spanning from past, to the very present.
Estrelain defected at age twenty-four from Coerthas, many years later bearing nothing else but weathered spear in his right fist. Because of the estrangement, and the arrival in Gridania, where a lance would find its home, young Estrelain, bereft of all pride joined the ranks of the Lancers' Guild. Attesting to the only voice that had spurred him to take up the lance, the wildwood not only was able to notice how easier it was for him to wheel, thrust and pierce with a polearm, but also how the equipment didn't force him to limit one's physical prowess in dodging, backflipping and de-facto gluing that individual to the weapon of wield. With lance in arm, Estrelain becomes a person anew. He forgets about the implications his actions may have upon his target, and performs his duties at the best of his abilities. Fortunately, he is able to control his drive to cause carnage, leaving him in the middle between a cautious man and a crazed one. This is thanks to the rigid, yet welcoming discipline of the Wailers, which he strives to emulate. The guild, allowed him to learn the techniques of an advanced lancer, therefore he is capable of phlebotomizing his enemy, maiming him, pinning him to the ground or simply throw a javelin against the target, should he find himself charging and on chocoback. To this day, this is his primary way of fighting.
Considering the lance noble and solemn, Estrlain chooses it only to fight, and he'd rather crumble into pieces than use it in any other way.
|
Observant, and patient, Estrlain shows the defining traits of a hunter, stalking his prey while, if engaged in combat, shall usher claw and teeth for survival to be achieved. Not only he displays little feelings when fighting (with the exception of honor and loyalty to his comrades), but he has little regards for the methods employed to pursue his goals and objectives, often bestowing a light of restless tolerance upon him. Concentrated to no end, he also has his own lacks, shown mostly in the department of magic. The orthodox methods of fighting employed by the Ishgardians, left hand-in-hand with Estrelain, for a more placid, yet precise way of utilizing weaponry. Baffled at the very refusal, Estrlain couldn't bear the thought of his beliefs and dreams to be shattered by a simple sentence of routine within the Congregation of Knights of Ishgard, therefore he started becoming a breath incresingly thunderous in his combat. No longer was young Estrelain a man with respect for his enemies and traditions, but one left with a bitter aftertaste of his very origins. Choosing a spear over a sword, the man decided to put good use his affinity with climbing, and his almost boundless agility. Estrelain does not conceive fighting without a weapon, but if it happens, he shall make use of his dexterity and precision to overthrow his opponent or simply survive, turning no blind eye to anything that can be used at his advantage. Predator in his spine, his strength is less prominent than the speed at which he rotates his lance, spear or fork, and with a thrust or two, the man has an arsenal of possible ways to disable his foes and swiftly offer no mercy to them..
|
Certainly not a man of situation, he isn't acquainted with the majority of the customs of the other city-states, resulting in a stranger, in a strange land. He currently is trying to improve his Gridanian, and attempts to mask his original accent behind silence. Not incapable of relating to others, he is seen as a loner, at least where he dwells most, Hyrstmill. Since he learned that the majority of the people he meets seem to be attracted by socialization and the colloquial structures concealed with 'pleasantries', the man is particularly reluctant in engaging in open talk, or chitchat. He shall, nonetheless speak if addressed, at the best of his dignity. More often than necessary he attempts to level with the interlocutor, therefore asking them what their interests are. Unknown to him, he has been slowly gathering luggage of culture, information and contacts. He attempts to make ease of things, even those he isn't familiar with. Therefore, Estrelain can appear to be hopelessly enabling, while in truth he might be only courteously addressing the chat. This happens also when somebody takes over something very manual of physical that he is busy doing, he will gladly leave the spot for another. |
HISTORY
Disclaimer: All of the details here are expected to be kept OOC unless an individual is given the information by Estrelain personally.
His history is currently being adjusted to make certain it fits within a determined timeline of events. This is taking some lore delving, and allowing for spacing for certain gaps that can later be filled in through RP, or alternatively, as lore about other areas of the XIV world are filled in given both his age and the amount of time spent traveling across Hydaelyn. Consider this section to be a constant Work In Progress. .
Early Life
|
Learning
|
Beyond the Calamity
|
Time as an exile and the making of a man
|
Disclaimer: All of the details here are expected to be kept OOC unless an individual is given the information by Estrelain personally.
His history is currently being adjusted to make certain it fits within a determined timeline of events. This is taking some lore delving, and allowing for spacing for certain gaps that can later be filled in through RP, or alternatively, as lore about other areas of the XIV world are filled in given both his age and the amount of time spent traveling across Hydaelyn. Consider this section to be a constant Work In Progress. . OOC Note: Here the current fate of Estrelain shall unfold, from this point forward, the section will include the adventures, encounters and storires he ICly lives alone or with other players. Every square corresponds to a different story or arc, and they are meant to be read from the top to the bottom to establish a chronological order. So simply read it as you would read any book. Additionally, the stories reported here are dated starting with the beginning of 'A Realm Reborn' 1577 S.U.E.The faint smell of roses and blood
|
RELATONSHIPS
♥ Family – ♥ Involved – ♥ Romantic – ♡ Passionate – ♥ Platonic – ♥ Physical – ♦ Friend – ★ Acquaintance – $ Business – ✝ Deceased – ✔ Positive – ✖ Negative – ● Neutral – � Unsure – ☠ Enemy
|
|
|
RUMORS
Some of these rumors are untrue, speculation, or are greatly exaggerated. ◢ Common Rumors - Easily overheard. Use these freely!
◢ Uncommon Rumors - A little more difficult to hear. Use sparingly or ask first!
◢ Rare Rumors - Very rarely overheard. Please ask before using!
|
Feel free to add your own rumors to this section. ◢ Player Character Rumors - Some of these are more rare than others!
|
MUSIC
|
GALLERY
OUTFITS
ARTWORK
OOC NOTES
Player Note I expect a clear IC / OOC division in RP. Estrelain's feelings and my feelings are separate. I am not opposed to friendships, but if an OOC relationship becomes stifling or uncomfortable, I won't hesitate to address the issue, or cut contact. Similarly, I hope that others are also as open in this regard as I am. I prefer clear lines of communication with whomever I am RPing with, and those I am RPing with should always feel free to send a /tell to clear up any questions. I like to think I'm a reasonable person in terms of plots and what I'll allow to happen to my character, but I do have a few hard limits as to things I will or will not allow for my creation. Ultimately, the domain over my character is mine, and I have spent a great deal of time developing him. There will be certain things I refuse to role-play, either because I don't feel they'd have a positive impact on him in the plot, or because I have no interest in the direction it would take my character. There is a lot of information on this character wiki, but it is by no means completely comprehensive. There are chunks of backstory that are left intentionally vague so that details can be later added as developed through creative writing or in role-play revelation. Please keep in mind that anything that cannot be immediately observed about Estrelain is considered OOC, and should not be used in-character. Feel free to use Common or Uncommon rumors freely, if you want to use a Rare Rumor as a plot hook, I would ask that you send me a tell first, to make certain it's alright. Personal RP Limits I like to consider myself a flexible player who is willing to commit to a number of different types of scenes and role-play scenarios, but even I have my limits. If something is on the play list, assume it means yes, as long as it stays within the context of the current play or ongoing plot. A "no" is typically a hard "no", and it means do not ask, and if I am in the mood for it, I gladly will be the one to initiate.
|
Potential Plot Hooks As a man standing between experience and the will to learn, he can be easily found almost everywhere. While the below is by no means comprehensive, it's a kind of spring board for walk-up RP. Longer plots that are meant to run for more than a few quick interactions, please feel free to send me a tell so we can work out a good reason for our characters to get to know one another. I'm always looking for RP, unless I'm actively spamming PvE content.
Disclaimer Estrelain is loosely based on the concept of an Ishgardian estranged adolescent, slowly making return to his homeland to reunite with his people, and learning his true worth on his journey. May the plot develop further, these shall remain the roots of his plot.. His story takes inspiration by everyday life as seen in Hydaelyn, blended with hints of nostalgia and reminiscent of the San d'Orian life and RP I have performed for over ten years in Final Fantasy XI, as a Dragoon.
|

