Arozand Oronir

Arozand Oronir
chomp
Headhunter
Gender	Male
Race	Au Ra
Clan	Xaela
Citizenship	Lonely
Place of Birth	Oronir Iloh, Azim Steppe
Guardian	Althyk, The Keeper
Nameday	21st Sun of the 4th Astral Moon (Age: 32)
Occupation	Basically a Witcher, does Wildling stuff too
Pronunciation	"AH-row-zand OH-row-near"

Arozand calls nowhere home and knows nothing of the tribe he is named after. His place is far from any city and his purpose is a hunter of monsters, calling upon powers unknown to any Eorzean through pacts and rituals made with the spirits of his prey. With a heart teetering between this world and that of the supernatural, Arozand's reality is rife with creatures and monsters of which the common man would never live to tell the tale of. Or want to. He shows down with beasts whose teeth are larger than him, whose will could turn flowing blood into rivers of acid, things that seek only to devour the soul of life and feast on what is known as the natural world. For him, the laws of nature need not apply, as laws are made to be broken as a rule of facing the terrors of the night with nothing but his cleaving blade and an unrelenting spirit.

Appearance

"I know these lands like the lines of my scales." —Arozand Oronir

Arozand has no home, a lone wolf of the wild.

Towering above most others at seven fulms and four ilms with around 320 ponze of muscle, bone, and scale wrapped up beneath sun-soaked bronze skin, Arozand tends to frighten most he comes across. The life of a hunter keeps his thick frame stocked with strength from head to toe, his flesh rounded and broad with a wide belt of muscle aside his hips and more than enough to love on a man of his stature. Eerily fitting given his tribal origin, mottled patches of subtle gold and bronze scales fleck the mass of natural obsidian armor patterned over his skin. Most of this unique pigmentation occurs on his torso and arms, yet a tapering pattern of the dark gradient is present on his cheeks and jaw.

Arozand is often seen with a dour squint or a predatory stare of his golden-ringed eyes, presenting most often as a stoic warden of the wilds. An almost indiscernible set of earth-brown irises rest within his glowing gaze, only visible in directly light. Thick brows and wide features adorn his face with fine contours, spots of scales and dark tattoos around his eyes only adding to his enigmatic, rugged aesthetic. The radiant faith of the Oronir seems to run through Arozand's veins in a true-to-life manifestation of fire and gold.

Heavy, smooth, and wavy locks of black hair rest over Arozand's scalp, dark waves crested with brown tied back back over his head. He gathers them into a long braid which curls atop his shoulder and hangs over his chest. Arozand keeps himself clean if not charmingly unkempt. His primary set of horns jut forward aside the forehead, opposite of the in-game appearance and much like a Behemoth's or bull's horns with a single ram's curl at the roots which leaves his face entirely open.

Arozand's voice rumbles in a deep bass, often unpleasant and rough when coupled with his accent. He speaks with expression and emphasis, making sure his point gets across but without embellishing or colorful vocabulary. Often short, blunt, and apparently distasteful of small talk Arozand will say what he needs to and let body language or facial expression do the rest. He prefers to not use words if there's no need to, deciding to raise a brow instead of asking a question or making a sour face instead of cursing.

His torso and arms are covered in tribal tattoos down to the knuckles, curving geometries fitted into the canvas of his skin between patches of scale. Their meanings are unknown but the collection of strange sigils, foreign calligraphy, and esoteric runes have clear purpose on his body. While mostly consisting of artful representations of many elements of the wilds, some lines and bodies of ink point to the deeper magic within. The teeth of beasts, the eyes of spirits, and the rays of sunfire find a place in the walking mural that he is.

Basic Info Date of Birth: 21st Sun of the Fourth Astral Moon, Year 1549, Sixth Astral Era (32 years old) Height: Tall (7'4") Weight: Heavyweight, muscular, bear-like (~320 ponze) Complexion: Bronze, tawny Hair: Long, thick, wavy, black and brown with an extensive braid hanging over his shoulder and chest. Eyes: Dark brown irises with lambent golden rings around them. Particular Traits: Extra thick brows. Behemoth horns. Long indigo-black tongue and an extensive, robust tail hanging down to his ankles. Iridescent scales of mottled oily shine, copper and gold in color. Voice: Rugged bass, often rough on the ears and thick with xaela accent. Clothing Style: Piecemeal, rugged, often with skin showing and lined with fur. Weather-dependent. Laterality: Right-handed

Preferences

Likes ■ Exploring the frontiers of Hydaelyn ■ Hunting down dangerous monsters, beasts, and mysterious creatures ■ Showing off his skills ■ Random duels ■ The admiration of others ■ People who challenge him in some way; competence ■ Possessing novelties and rare items ■ Spicy, exotic, and sweet foods ■ Humid, cool days in Gridania ■ Reading about history, war, and love ■ Buffalo and wolves

Dislikes ■ People who whine about their problems ■ People who sacrifice their freedom ■ Not being rewarded for his services ■ Dry or bitter foods ■ Being disrespected ■ Miqo'te men ■ People who abuse animals or children

Favorites ■ Food: Tonkkatsu ramen, spicy sushi, shorlog ■ Drink: Rum, honey mead, sake, hot chocolate ■ Colours: Black ink, blue sky, green forest, red blood, golden sand ■ Place: The Black Shroud ■ Festival: All Saints' Wake

Other ■ Alignment: True Neutral ■ Vices: Drugs, drinking, pretty women ■ Religion: Impious ■ Goal: Die at the ripe old age of 80 in a bed of furs with a bottle of rum and--

Personality

Flaws ■ Selfish ■ Indifferent ■ Impulsive violence ■ Blunt ■ Stubborn ■ Lustful

Fears ■ Void magic ■ Voidsent ■ Primals ■ Goobbue ■ Growing old and useless ■ Being left behind ■ Commitment

Talents ■ Extraordinary strength and speed ■ Extensive knowledge of the body's vulnerable points, can cut his prey down with minimal effort and still leave them breathing ■ Innate understanding of beasts and beastkin ■ Boasts a powerful infusion of elemental aether ■ Extremely perceptive

Tropes ■ The Big Guy ■ Berserker ■ Big Fucking Sword ■ Achilles' Heel ■ Red Eyes, Take Warning ■ Death Glare ■ Rebellious Spirit ■ Men Can't Keep House ■ Hitman With a Heart ■ Don't Call Me Sir

Intelligence Though often coming off as dull and unintelligent given his single-minded passion and brusque approach to life, Arozand boasts an education of practical experience gained through the years of his life of urban and frontier survival. He knows how to survive and endure as well as how to ensure the longevity of his comrades and won't shy away from learning new things if it means improving these skills. The Xaela's hunger for knowledge is one of the greatest motivations in his life as he seeks to hone what he knows and deliberately understand whatever he does not. The struggles of his beginnings force his mind to become a sponge for information and his rare, piecemeal intellect only flourishes for it. Basic evocations of magic are also not beyond his reach, his innate yet unnatural manipulation of aether a side-effect of secrets few are aware of. WIP

Quirks WIP

Comparisons Anime Characters: Guts (Berserk), Devilman (Devilman Crybaby), Zabuza Momochi (Naruto), Piccolo (Dragon Ball) Other Characters: Frank Castle (The Punisher), Amos Burton (The Expanse), Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher), Kratos (God of War IV), Rengar (League of Legends)

Abilities and Skills

Personal ■ A beast-sense, attuned to nature and the danger of survival ■ The mystic arts of a minor sage, drawing on the power of spirits ■ Rolls one hell of a blunt with enough goods to share ■ Drinks like a damned sailor

Weapons ■ Swords ■ Axes ■ Spears ■ Fists ■ Whatever gets the job done, tables and chairs included

Magic ■ Inner Beast, both a well of mighty strength and a mode of merciless killing ■ Really shitty spells that make mages laugh ■ Mutation

Crafting ■ Carpentry ■ Leatherworking ■ Blacksmithing ■ Alchemy

Family and Relationships

Family ■ They're all dead.

Friends and Acquaintances ■ No plural. Has one.

Enemies ■ Yokai/Oni ■ Other hunters, competition ■ A Hingan Yakuza house ■ A lot of pirates

Affiliations

■ Adventurers' Guild

■ Clan Centurio

Rumors

Note: This section is editable by anyone. Just keep in mind that the rumors here may be both true or false.

“You should see him fight. Just imagine it—the strength of those barbar—erm, noble warriors of the Steppe, wielded with the skill of a true Samurai! I never would have imagined it possible!” — Unkempt Doman Village Girl

"They say he's a mutant, a freak, some kind of hunter that chews up his kills before turning them in for coin. Can you imagine them letting him in our cities?! He should be locked up and kenneled like an animal if he acts like one!" — Isghardian Soldier at the Forgotten Knight

"The Xaela? I saw him drink something before battle, watched his veins go black before he keeled over a table, started biting the edge like he was going mad... Awful fucker. Then he DID go mad in the Battle for Ala Mhigo, slaughtered everyone unlucky enough to be seen on that street; Resistance and Imperial alike..." — Ala Mhigan courier in Rhalgr's Reach

Nicknames ■ Sunshine

Current Residence ■ Shirogane, Ward 18, Kobai Goten Apartments (OOC location for his ger)

Background (WIP)

Separated from his tribe as a boy by bloody tribal conflict, everything Arozand knew was burned to ash by the fires of war. The family of Oronir was split in half by an invasion of Dotharl, leaving a daughter and father parted from Arozand and Tumun. All that remained were the threads on his back and a loving mother that would see to his survival, Khaidu having sacrificed himself for the lives of his loved ones. The mother and son traveled alone for years until they settled where they could among the Raen and other races living in the Far East. She was plagued by winter sickness and for all the skills of survival he had learned from the huntress, none would save her in time. Neither could they afford the services of a healer, nor would any in their right mind offer thankless aid to two black-scaled Xaela from the Steppes.

He fought, schemed, and toiled through the cities and settlements they crossed to earn whatever coin might pay for her life, through whatever means necessary. The blood of his father, both sacrificed and surging through his veins pushed him through poverty as he honed what he knew and quickly learned what he didn’t.

Tragedy came for him all too soon, his mother breathing her final raspy breath and with it the foundation of everything he had worked for. The world came crashing down on the adolescent Xaela, glistening sadness wetting the black scales of his face as he knelt over the last shred of love in his life. With no one left and nothing to live for, Arozand took to the wilds and used what he knew to make it through one day after the next while exploiting any opportunity he could. Most called him a demon for his wild temper and black scales, the adolescent earning the titles of 'thief', 'cutpurse', and 'highwayman' well enough to warrant a streak of infamy. Originally sent to eliminate the black-scaled, golden-eyed imp of the forest, a wayward woman of the blade entered his woodland meadow and came upon a scene unlike any other. A wild wolverine, or gulo gulo as the locals called it was hot on the chase of Arozand's tail. With a singing sweep of her blade, the Hingan ronin felled the beast as it was skewered atop Arozand's makeshift spear. The two eventually formed a bond after Arozand's would-be mentor realized he was no demon, but a lone Xaela cast aside with his scraps and loot. She was an exile who saw fit to teach him the ways of honor, fists, and the blade. Arozand excelled as if he were born for martial skill as his will of fire coursed with unyielding strength through his hot blood.

The monster huntress and her teachings did not come without a price, however, as a child with nowhere to go was an ideal subject both for the indoctrination and uniquely unnatural trials she offered. The art of consuming a creature's aether, especially that of prey was the foundation of his new sensei's craft and path. Little did Arozand know how the next many years would change him or of the ravenous fate that lied ahead. None of that mattered so long as he could live with a full belly every night and the grit of kenjutsu along with other forms of martial combat to iron his will into the perfect weapon. With great struggle, he drank deep of every drop of knowledge his sensei had to offer. Arozand learned to kill just as easily as he learned to live, youthful naivete blinding him to the mirror image he was becoming as a student to his master. For all intents and purposes, she became the only mother he had left and nothing could dissuade him from the love that he developed for her especially in the face of danger. Arozand dedicated his life to be the shield for hers and would stop at no reservation or hesitation to protect her. He could not lose anyone else and he refused to suffer the pain of that loss ever again lest it consume him with madness.

The young xaela's training began with the likes of imps and lesser yokai, creature of mischief that caused the possessions of villagers and lords alike to go missing. These were his missions and he carried them out with utmost conviction no matter how trivial, never forgetting to follow through with his sensei's teachings. He devoured every last one of the little monsters, their aether at least and only until they were dried up husks of whatever they had been. This destruction and avarice towards supernatural life exacted a heavy toll on his mind but sent his body through chaotic and ultimately powerful changes. His eyes began to glow in the night, burning in the darkness like a beast's under a spotlight and allowed him to see through the shadows of night no matter how far the moon fled. Arozand's weight and height nearly grew at a rate he could not control, often waking up to being too large for his sleeping space. His teeth began falling out, quickly replaced by shooting pains of fangs jutting out from his gums only for him to bite down onto a suddenly enlarged and indigo tongue while gorging on his supper. His scales and horns grew sturdier and harder, the former beginning to curve upwards and over his head while the latter took on shades of copper and gold among the obsidian patterns embedded into his skin. Sensory sensitivity heightened as well, hearing and smell surpassing even that of a wolf while his agility and strength nearly doubled within a cycle of moons.

By the time he was fourteen, he looked a man but ever with the youthful gaze of a child. Villagers and lords alike ogled at the freak of nature before them as he and his sensei passed through towns and the famous halls of Doman and Hingan nobles, but never without coin in their pockets at the end of the day. Arozand had just contended with a tengu and lost the battle, returning to camp with a broken arm and covered both in his blood and that of the prey he sought. Bones of iron had splintered in multiple places, no matter how tough they were and the same went for his tattered skin and missing scales which oozed blood without signs of staunching. Yet even as he licked his wounds, dreamed, and healed his mind was wracked with visions of hunger and his sleep was rife with restlessness. The roar of attacking creatures and their soon to follow death throes echoed through his young mind, apparitions of gore and gnashing teeth waking him in the middle of the night to ringing horns and a cold sweat. Arozand could only assume this was the painful path to greatness and ultimate power.

Two years came and went, Arozand now sixteen and even larger than he had been. He was not welcome in the mainland of Hingashi and his sensei left him in Kugane while she tended to business. It was the first time he had been without her since they met and the bustling Hingan city was far too strange to slake his curiosity. Whether or not it was a test of character, Arozand could not know but nothing would keep him from diving horns-first into the years of independence that stretched out before him, or so he thought.

Soon his misdeeds caught up with him, as did the drinking and gambling with all the debts he owed after becoming a man of his own. His mentor, even with her eminent skill, could not avoid what honor called her to do as she gave her life to ensure that he would live. Everywhere he looked was now closed off by the reality of a blade to the neck and a missing head. Still young and spry, he set his gaze to the west and crossed the seas to Eorzea with hope for a new life in Ul’dah and the other great nations. Arozand was a vagabond if anything, and the struggle towards a new frontier was the least of his woes.

A place in the Immortal Flames came to be his saving grace, the pillars of this new community keeping him out of trouble for the most part. He began to look up to the great General Raubahn Aldynn as a local hero and a figure of influence. Though a mere lowly private, Arozand took to the blade and frontier as he struck out a living within the Free Brigade and took what he deserved while giving his service to Ul'dah and the wealthy state he knew it was. Yet this was no new leaf or sudden revolution in his life, his vices of gambling and lustful indulgence keeping up with every turn he made. He spent his pay on himself and what he wanted, driven to earn more and more for the sake of himself despite the homeless slums that only seemed to bloat.

For all his skill, his potential was sullied in the eyes of his superiors by his recklessness and lack of care for anyone but himself. Being part of a team meant that he would usurp its leadership or vanish on his own particular mission that he believed would bring victory and reward regardless of what his comrades saw fit. Thus, he was assigned to solitary special operations assignments that would maximize his efficiency as a single unit with only an agent to provide contact and information for what work he desired. It proved a resounding success, Arozand becoming responsible for the assassination of prime enemy targets across Eorzea as well as preventing numerous hostile attacks across many Alliance outposts and trade routes.

Even then, he craved more. His life had shown him his fair share of Garlean tyranny, news of Doma's failed rebellion reigniting his hatred for the Empire as well as recent events involving the XIVth Legion and the Ultima Weapon. He was convinced that Garlemald wanted nothing more than to stoke the fires of war and make the world their castrum from its black ashes. He sought out a resistance movement led by a Hingan lord, despite his poor standing with the country. Lord Yahata Ryuga would show him the way to rebellion, and he found their noble house with the help of a fledgling slave named Kamome Greywing. The young girl was headed exactly where he was and she guided him to her patron's estate where Arozand would come to forge bonds that he would never forget.

Gallery

(Format credit goes to Red Beast.)