Aiswynd Drakareus

Aiswynd Drakareus
Gender	Male
Race	Au Ra
Clan	Xaela
Citizenship	Gridania
Age	32
Nameday	7th Sun of the 5th Astral Moon (9th of September)
Occupation	Honorary Adder
Guardian	Azeyma, the Warden
Alignment	Neutral Good
Relationship?	Single

Appearance & Personality

He is short for an Au Ra male, however this does not change the fact that he is solid with an athletic build. While his face has little marring upon it, his body does show signs of extensive conflict, however few of the scars are noticeable upon a glance, there are a couple that are typically hidden by his clothing. His expressions tend towards being intense and focused when he is idling around. His limbal rings tend to dance like fire when he is intrigued or attracted.

He tends towards being a calm person in most things, being calm and kind and caring. There is frequently a sense of loneliness to him these days, and something else buried deep that only shows up when it comes to Garleans, and that is near unquestioning rage and anger. In other things he is a very curious person, especially when it comes to such things as Machines and Magitek.

Likes ● Fish ● Rainy Days ● Travelling ● Companionship ● Felines

Dislikes ● Garleans ● Betrayal ● Loneliness ● Feline haters

Other ● Alignment: Neutral Good ● Vice(s): Physical affection, Fish ● Favorite Color(s): Blacks, Reds, Oranges and Yellows ● Mood Music: Currently it is -- Unstable - Chaotica

Psychological / Mental

Morality / Alignment: Neutral Good

Guardian Deity: Azeyma, the Warden

Attitude: Tends towards being calm and supportive of most people, and curious about Eorzean Society

Positive Traits: Kind, Caring, tendency towards being an intelligent and empathic individual, skilled at showing no outward problems.

Negative Traits: Anger bordering on blind rage regarding Garleans, fear of deep water, may be nearing a mental breakdown due to ongoing events

Quirks: Having grown up in the steppes, one would think he would not be bothered by much, as well as being a lover of fish but, is disgusted by slimy sensations.

In-Character Job: Adder, Freelance Mercenary

Professional Skills: While he worked with the Rogue's guild, his skills were more in agile combat, tracking and hunting than theft. While he may not be able to palm a purse from someone, he is very good at palming a knife into that same person from across the room while diving over a table.

Amateur Skills / Hobbies: He is an amateur culinarian, with a goal of learning all of the fish dishes in the world, as well has having a curious fascination about plants. His biggest interest though are machines, anything mechanical, whether mundane or magitek.

Likes / Wants: Fish, definitely fish, and felines of all types, whether they are Miqo'te, Coeurl, or other. The coeurl thing is a serious problem, there's been a recent explosion of stray healthy Coeurl kittens growing up near Gridania, and he may or may not be responsible. Likes mild food with a faint sweetness.

Dislikes / Avoids: Cat haters, Slimy textures, meats other than fish, he's actually allergic to Coeurl meat, and Chocobo meat tastes foul to him. The rest just sit wrong with him. He also is not fond of the smell of roses.

Family, Friends, & Love

Location of Home, if any: Gridania for now

Place of Birth: The Steppes

Relationship Status: Single

Relationship Partner(s), if any: None

Orientation: Hetero

Favored Traits: Intelligence, the quickest way to catch him is being kind and intelligent, as well as being patient

Disfavored Traits: He greatly dislikes drunkards, braggarts and those who are brash or revel in a lack of knowledge.

Living Relatives: Aimbygai Quo Avagnar (Father) and Khoswynd Eir Avagnar (Mother)

Friends / Allies: Yujika Shojin, The Celestial Guard

Rivals / Enemies: Garlean Empire

History

Aiswynd grew up as part of the Drakareus Tribe, a Tribe of Xaela that were not renown for anything in particular other than the Elders insistence that everyone be well educated for a wandering people. Aside from the occasional clashes with other tribes, life for Aiswynd was peaceful as a young child and he made friends easily. It was not long before things began to go sour in his life. He was barely the human equivalent of 8 when a river flood while gathering food along the banks swept him and his parents away. The tribe had given up on him and his family, only finding him by chance among a Coeurl den by Scouts of the tribe as the whole tribe migrated down river.

His isolation began there, while the tribe took over raising him, he began to feel disconnected, the only strong connection he had was Koertha, another like him who had lost his parents. The two of them became good friends, brothers even as they grew into adult hood. Koertha learning to be a warrior that fought with nothing but his fists, while Aiswynd took up daggers and aided the tribe as a scout and hunter. Aside from ongoing issues with women in the tribe and the tribes mating traditions, life started to look good until...

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Tribal Calamity

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Aiswynd laughed at a joke his cousin made about the Raen tribe as he, and several other Xaela sat around a fire. They were out on the periphery of the camp, the others more central were families and elderly, the young warriors and hunters lived on the edge. This was so if an attack happened, they were already on hand, ready to go and those that could not fight as well were already circled into the center and protected.

The group fell silent as a bird call echoed out from the darkness, one of them sending another bird call back. A couple moments of silence passed before a pair of Xaela hunters rode up on chocobos which were haggard from a hard run. They dismount, the lead of the two motions towards the group as he swept past and towards the central camp. The other Xaela approaches the group after tending to the Chocobo, "Another tribe is approaching on the march of war. Get rest, they'll be here by morning." the Xaela says, motioning for some of the stew and thanking them for the food.

Aiswynd sighed and looked off towards where the riders came from. It wasn't long until his watch shift ended and he retired to the tents to sleep. Morning however was a rush of adrenaline as weapons were handed out and armor prepared. It was not long before the other army came into sight. Tension in the tribe was high as they noticed some strange armor among the Xaela tribe that arrived.

The lines were formed, the Drakareus tribe readied themselves for the assault. It was not long before a shout went up from the enemy, and moments later the tribes met in bloody conflict.

The first to come upon Aiswynd was one of those in strange armor, wielding a sword and shield that hummed strangely with a crackle of magical lightning. He slashed, and Aiswynd spun, the armor, the weapons availed the man naught as one of Aiswynd's daggers slipped between helmet and pauldron, slicing open the warrior's throat. Aiswynd advanced, the next foe a Xaela like himself and they clashed and slashed, wove and dodged. Blades met, but in a few moments Aiswynd was the victor.

It was not long before it appeared the Drakareus tribe was going to be the victor, despite the strange additional soldiers. Then one arrived from the rear, and wielded a weapon that was strange, a blade with a tube on the backside. A moment later more arrived, and before long loud cracks could be heard and his fellow tribesmen began to fall one after another.

Aiswynd watched in horror, he knew at once who they were, having had small skirmishes before. These were Garleans, why they would involve themselves in tribal conflict he didn't know. He didn't care. He saw his cousin gunned down a moment later before he was stabbed as he tried to recover. Aiswynd tightened the gripe on his knives and went into a bloody rage.

He slashed and cut and sliced, lashing out with fist and leg, knocking down and killing everyone he could as quickly as he could. He advanced upon the Garlean's with the gunblades before one more arrived upon a large walker. There was a stunned silence as a beam of magic tore through the battlefield, and the camp. More and more appeared, cutting swaths in the ground, and troops and camp, killing all caught in it.

A hand grabbed Aiswynd and tugged at him. He spun to find one of Koertha before him, "Let go!" he shouted as he gestured to the Walkers, "I have to kill them!" his friend shook his head and pulled, "NO! We have to flee! We have to try and survive!" Aiswynd turned to pull away only to be spun around by his friend. His friend was moving to strike him to knock him out only to stop. A moment later he was flung away and crumpled to the ground, his spine severed.

Aiswynd spun in place to face his friends killer only to find a massive Garlean Soldier with an axe in hand. He lashed out with the butt of the axe, Aiswynd attempted to dodge but the strike was fast as lightning and caught him in the shoulder, causing him to twist with the impact. He rolled with the momentum of the strike, swinging in and catching the Garlean in the cheek, leaving a long slash. He was repaid a moment later as the Garlean twisted about the axe and slammed the back side into Aiswynd's stomach, forcing him to stumble back in pain.

Shoulder bruised, stomach feeling battered, Aiswynd slowed down but did not stop his assault in blind rage. He came in with a feint for the right side, snapping and twisting suddenly into a low kick meant to strike the Garlean's leg behind the knee and cause a fracture. Instead of being caught the Garlean stepped in and slammed the haft into Aiswynd's face, a loud crack could be heard and Aiswynd's vision filled with stars before going black.

"Nice try boy...Find me when you learn how to fight better, it could be fun."

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Aftermath

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Aiswynd woke up some time later amid piles of bodies, his daggers had long since been pilfered and his nose was bloody and felt broken. He was alive however, as were a handful of others who were picking across the battlefield. The camp was ruined, full of charred bodies. One of the other Xaela came over and helped Aiswynd up, told him that they had lost, and were all going to scatter, maybe find new tribes to take them in. Most of the survivors had already left.

He stumbled over to the camp, to where the elders all lay slain and fell to his knees, these were like his parents once his had died. He reached down and with the soot and char he drew an X across his face, his fellow Xaela all having done this as well. They were all tribeless now, and would wear that mark until they were accepted, they were part of a new tribe. He stood up and gave forth a sigh before he started off.

Among the bodies he found new knives, not as good as his old ones, but they would have to do. It was some years of travel and wandering before he found himself upon a coastal village. He never joined another tribe having left the steppes and living as a wanderer and a rogue. The people upon the ship fascinated him, however he feared to get aboard because of the water. The night before they left port, he had gotten drunk with some Roegaden, not waking up until the had long cast off, having been brought aboard to join the crew as they traveled south to Limsa Lominsa.

His arrival in Limsa lead him to falling in with the Rogues guild for a short time, and after a violent encounter where he saved a group of Adders from a Garlean scouting party, he ended up being pulled into the fold of the Adders where he was at first a glorified messenger before quickly escalated up to handling more dangerous missions that better fit his talents.

Recent Events

Adder Struck

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Crunch, crunch, crunch

Aiswynd's steps came to a stop as his breath fogs before him. He adjusts the scarf about his mouth and face, and a sheer cloth to protect his eyes from the cold and brightness of Coerthas. He pulls a map out of his pocket and studies it for a bit, looking up from the map a few times before putting it away and trudging on through the snow. A pack slung across his back filled with missives and some tool resupplyment for a scouting group that was working in Coerthas.

Crunch, crunch, crunch As he trudges on through the snow, Aiswynd thinks about the events of his life up until recently. He had ended up in Limsa and fell in with the Rogues guild, well they more picked him up. They were watching all the new arrivals and apparently his skills doing odd jobs culling some of the more dangerous creatures near the city attracted his attention. He worked with them for only a month before they parted ways. They liked to work in shadows and secret and his method was a bit more direct than their style. It was during a courier job from Limsa to Gridania that started him with the Adders.

Crunch, Crunch, Crunch He stops and looks up at the sky, the snow was starting to come down thicker, he was going to soon lose a lot of visibility. He checks the map one more time to make sure he was facing in the right direction. He lets out a sigh and continues on. His thoughts straying back to the Adders. How he fell in with them, it was pure chance, a group of Adders were being attacked by Garleans that had slipped into the area. The Adders were losing and he charged in without thinking. They fell fast, already worn out from the battle, and not ready for a sudden strike from someone more skilled than them. A couple Garleans were left alive for the Adders but proved to know little that was useful, or they didn't break. The Adders gave him honorary status, and he started doing jobs from them, small, but he quickly proved his usefulness.

Crunch, crunch... He comes to a stop as the wind starts picking up with the thickening wall of snowfall. He normally wouldn't be doing resupply jobs like this but the Adders were short handed, and he volunteered because he wanted to see Coerthas. A land of pure pristine snow of shades of white, blue and...

"Azeyma let this be a fresh carcass of an animal." He says under his breath as he starts moving quickly, the streak of blood turning out to be from one of the Adders that were camped out. He kneels down at the body to inspect it. No signs of gunshots, he muses within his mind, rolling the body over to find scorch marks all across the body, "No..."

He stands up, letting the pack land in the snow by the body before he draws his blades and creeping forward towards the next blotch. He freezes in position as the camp comes into view. It was several Garleans standing around the remains of a campfire, dead Adders lying all about them. Aiswynd clenches his teeth, his jaw and then launches at the nearest of the Garleans, one that held a bow at the ready. The Garlean was taken by surprise as Aiswynd latches onto the back collar of his armor, drags him backwards and slices his throat open. The gurgle alerts the others.

Without hesitation he launches himself at the next nearest Garlean, Fire scorching past his head. The next spell was ended before it could be cast as he buries his fist into the stomach of the Thaumaturge. He twists around and slices low, hamstringing the Thaum as his Gladiator ally misses his swing for Aiswynd's head. Aiswynd continues his twisting spin, coming back up and slipping behind the Gladiator's shield and planting a dagger just under his shoulder. His other dagger is thrown past the Gladiator's head to catch the Thaumaturge in the face, ending his career in an instant.

The last person left in sight, a Pugilist launches himself at Aiswynd, believing him to be unarmed now. Aiswynd kicks the dying Gladiator into the Pugilist's path, buying himself enough time to bring forth another pair of daggers. He doesn't meet the strikes coming at him head on, insteady parrying and slipping sideways. His movements significantly faster than the Pugilist, scoring a slice across the ribs. The Pugilist aims a high sweeping kick at Aiswynd. Aiswynd, catches the leg and rolls with the kick, coming away from the strike rolling through the snow. He stands up and draws another dagger, having left the one in his hand planted firmly into the back of the knee of the Pugilist who was now on the ground and screaming in pain. A swift execution follows and Aiswynd gathers his daggers.

As he approaches the pack, a faint clapping could be heard along with the heavy crunch of snow, and into view came a Marauder, no, this one was a Warrior, the stature and armor sending flashes of recognition through Aiswynd's mind. For a moment, Aiswynd was no longer in a land of snow, but a steppe land, and the corpses around him were not Adders, but Xaelas. "That was magnificent for a backwater hick." the Warrior comments, laughing a little as he does.

He brings his axe to bear, "And I see you've gotten better...I was not wrong to let you live...You've culled weaklings from our ranks quite well."

Aiswynd's knuckles go white with how tightly he grips his daggers as he approaches the Warrior, "I will kill you." then it was all motion. He rushes in and aims for a throat cut at the start only to leave a knick upon the haft of the Warrior's Axe. With ease the axe is swung forcing Aiswynd to retreat before he leaps in again, this time aiming low and again the Warrior parries his attack and pushes him back with another swing. Aiswynd collects enough of his wits to change his tactics, going for a feint that he uses to grab the haft of the axe and launch himself past to aim a strike at the Warrior's face. His dagger leaves a shallow cut on the armor. He releases his grip and ducks down under the axe swing, aiming to stab the Warrior in the thigh only to be sent reeling as the haft crashes into the side of his head. He rolls to the side as an Axe blade narrowly misses coming down upon his head.

"You've gotten better, but so have I boy." The Warrior lets out, chuckling as he sweeps his axe up, unleashing a wave of snow and obscuring Aiswynd's view. Aiswynd leaps backward from the snow launch and launches a cluster of throwing daggers into it. He realizes to late that the Warrior went around to the side. The Warrior's swing comes in with the blade backwards, Aiswynd's arm cracking painfully under the impact of the haft and he is sent tumbling.

Aiswynd stands up slowly, the broken arm hanging limply by his side, the dagger in the snow. The pain of his arm causing him to collapse. The Warrior grins widely as he approaches, his helmet splitting from the strike earlier that hit more deeply than it first appeared. There was a fresh cut on his cheek, above the scar of another. The Warrior stops before Aiswynd as he tests the weight of his axe in his hand, "One more try...hehehe...next time...maybe you will win...I am curious to see just how powerful you will become."

In quick motion, Aiswynd brings up his linkpearl and broadcasts his location through it, getting it out before the haft connects with the side of his head and all goes black.

Later

Sometime later, he awakens to the sound of crackling fire and warmth. Heavy blankets are over him and his arm is pinned and splinted, he groans painfully as his vision swims. Someone found him at least. He closes his eyes and sleeps back off into sleep. In his dreams the laughter of the warrior is coming not from the Garlean Warrior, but his father, laughing at some idiosyncrasy of tribal Xaela life.