Moltove Mon'tova

Moltove Mon'Tova (Pronunciation:Molt-tahv mon-toe-vah)
Moltove is a successful wandering merchant seen traveling mostly between the three open city-states of Eorzea. His wares usually include basic ammenities and an abundance of weapons and armor, though one product of his sets himself apart from most other arm dealers-- Materia and Aether-touched arms. The stones set themselves apart from the lower, clouded quality easily found adventuring, as high quality, pristine and even more powerful stones that are in such great demand. Where he found or made these products are a trade secret, and few even know of these products.

Molt himself is an average Wildwood Elezen. Average body, normal looks, everything about him seems normal. There's really only two things that set him apart in a crowd of Elezen, and that would be his dark, red hair and the weapons he carries to arm himself with.

Moltove Mon'Tova
"Why did I take up stealing? To live better, to own things I couldn't afford, to acquire this good taste that you now enjoy and which I should be very reluctant to give up!"
Basic Information
Gender	Male
Race	Elezen
Clan	Wildwood
Citizenship	Ul'Dah
Age	30
Nameday	10th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon
Guardian	Oschon, the Wanderer
Lineage Guardian	Menphina, the Lover
Occupation	Arms Dealer, Thief
OOC Profile	User:Moltove

Character

Appearance

Height and Weight 6 fulms, 8 ilms | +/-210 ponz

Body: Lean, slightly muscular build found on most Elezen.

Hair: Red; Seen as around shoulder-length, but usually pulled up and held with a leather binding.

Eyes: Green. When without glasses or medication, they will literally fog in the pupils, the left eye especially. It would be rare to see this, however.

Skin: Slight tan, pale in comparison to most Wildwood Elezen.

Clothing: On his torso is a simple, laced but loose tunic. This tunic is chosen for breath-ability under the sometimes grueling Ul'Dah sun, and often has hidden pockets. He wears a second layer underneath, be it just a simple cloth just to cover one side of his chest if the shirt or tunic is a bit 'too' loose. There are usually straps around his arms to keep the baggy sleeves out of the way, and leather gloves are always employed for protection, though not without removing the fingers from it first. His favorite (pictured on the right) is a loose tunic with a black, open undershirt that covers his chest tattoo. On a day-to-day basis, he does not wear gloves, and reserves them for adventuring or traveling.

On his waist he carries several belts with several pouches, sometimes covered with a wide red sash used to hide what he has on him. These pouches carry everything between Gil to herbal remedies and ingredients. Hanging just a bit lower is a basic short-blade on his left, a basic dagger on a sheath across his lower back. His slacks are usually loose, while reinforced with leather bindings to add adequate protection for his legs without sacrificing mobility. It's quite warm, sometimes, but better to be slightly uncomfortable than dead. His boots are no different in that way, as they two are leather and strapped.

Jewelry: He wears no rings, but instead wears a necklace. This necklace is just a simple piece of aetheryte on a gold chain. It had been crafted some time ago, and made into the shape of an Aytherite gate, minus the floating bits.

Marks: One tattoo on his chest, alluding to the Order of the Stormguard, and a scar that splits his left eyebrow, one third of the way in from the right.

Other

He is mostly blind in his left eye, his right eye is less than perfect, as well and both will cloud if he does not take certain medications. He always carries an enchanted pair of glasses that restores most of his sight in both eyes, but without them the effects of not having mentioned lenses will increase the cloudiness steadily. He's not sure if the blindness is permanent, but since he was given the medication, he has never stopped to find a cure.

Inventory

On Hand

• Father's Mask of Night: This mask, reminiscent of old-style thieves and bandits, was once worn by his father on his escapades around the globe. Retired of such shenanigans when he met his wife, Molt had inherited this artifact from his father when he became of age.

This mask allows Molt to see normally, just as his spectacles do, as the mask's enchantment boosts the wearer's actual vision (+Acc). Those who can see normally reap the perk of sharper vision and their strikes ring more true. Both Molt and a normal person can benefit being able to see clearly in the dark with this mask.

• Mother's Aetheryte Necklace When Molt was little, he was told stories of this necklace, to always attune himself to it so whenever him and his mother were separated, he could 'wish' himself back-- but it would have to take all his strength. Even as an adult, it took an incredible amount of anima to teleport to it to find it.

This necklace was crafted by a master goldsmith. The crafter shaped the chunk into a replica of an Old Gridanian aetheryte gate, including the golden fixings normally found around the base of them. It allows the user to attune to the aetheryte piece. The size of the aetheryte still permits teleportation, though with repetitive attuning exercise and extreme amounts of anima. There is a limited number of 'signatures' the aetheryte can hold onto, and it is unknown if any more exist on it.

Stored Away

• Tarnished Golden Wedding Band This wedding band was from a time when Molt had a family and was generally happy with life. The band is gold, with green engraving and a set of three small emeralds flush to the band. Unable to stand to wear it, he has locked it away to forget about it. Fairly valuable, he often plots to sell the damned thing.

• Father's Secret Caches Tomaux, Molt's father, had told Molt of many places in the world of Hydaelyn. He strongly encouraged him to explore every end of the land, and as a reward he left secret caches all over for him to find. It is unknown where these are, how many there are, or even what's in them, but upon Molt's latest nameday he had decided to seek them all out.

Lost or Passed On

Show text

• The Dated Maddening Dagger

• Charcoal Etchings of Stormguard Notes and Drawings These notes were sketched over by Molt when he visited the lost keep of the Stormguard on his own. It is all for naught as it was lost, presumably destroyed in the ruins of Ul'Dah when Bahamut attacked. Anyone who found these would not be able to read it, or make out any sketches.

• An Old Gil Piece This Gil Piece, though insignificantly unchanged from times past, represents its age with dents, scrapes and seemingly immovable dirt from its crevasses. This was recovered by Molt when starting the recovery of a lost fort of the Stormguard, and has since been lost because of Bahamut's rampage.

Personality

Tendencies

• Fears: Moltove has the typical fear of loosing those he loves, though this has become more of a regret than a fear after the Calamity. Another fear is being unable to retrieve his medication for his eyes or breaking his glasses. Generally, one doesn't like being hit in the face or the head-- and Molt is no exception. Bugs are not so much a fear unless if they're big...and mean!

• Talents: Like most Elezen, speed, agility and dexterity are his strong suits, rather than strength or stamina. He is very nimble, and takes pride on that. Watch his hands if you can-- or your coin purse. Without his glasses, this is diminished greatly, as he looses the proper depth perception needed for accuracy in fighting or tom foolery. He has a knack for selling things, even if he doesn't end up getting to sell exactly what he had in mind, his customers always end up buying something.

• Likes: Often finer things in life- Food, art, even nature. He also enjoyed his old work, of which he partook in side projects to further his education on healing, botany and toxicology. You wouldn't believe this, however as he does his studies alone and away from prying eyes. He is a solitary being, and likes it that way.

• Dislikes: Limsa Lominsa, particularly the Muskateer guild and the fish smell in the markets, the rich (except for himself), city guard, and Grand Companies. He does not take well to those who run their mouth, and to those who fail to back up their words without action. Molt dislikes to cause any fights or unneeded attention on himself. Molt absolutely detests loud noises, especially those of a gun or canon. Fish, or the smell of fish, despite several important potions requireing the oils of them, are not a favorite animal in the least bit.

• Hobbies: Over the past five cycles, he has picked up quite a few hobbies. It's not uncommon for him to pull over his caravan to look at the scenery and pick ingredients, a side-effect from working at the Phrontistery. If he finds his camp set near a body of water, he will take to fishing, though for the sport rather than the fish, unless to restock certain fish oils.

Behavior

• Demeanor: Generally docile, one would say easy going. If he weren't jaded on some aspects, he could be charismatic all around. On a bad day, he is quick to snap and easy to anger, though would still maintain enough cool to sell you what you don't even need. Otherwise, you could easily see him shouting about selling arms, or other odds and ends, without a care in the world!

• Outlook: Molt's true outlook is bleak. He is unsure where the world is going to go, and what's next for him. He tries hard to realize that the worst is over- Eorzea survived Bahamut, after all-- and there's only one way to go, and that's up.

• Voice: Firm and masculine, with a touch of airy. Known to mutter, stutter or fumble over his words at times if uneasy, but when he's selling his wares this is next to non-existent.

• Mind: Intelligent, though lacking in any kind of ambition other than personal gain. He is quick witted, but lacks clarity at times.

Meditation has always been a part of his life, though not as much as the past five cycles. Since then, he has stopped meditating as much as the need for it stayed low.

Other

There was a time, not long ago, an upbeat, positive and easygoing Moltove existed. Certain events seem to have lowered his moral and outlook on life. Slowly, he is building his life back together into a new, sunny perspective.

Combat

Armor

Molt wears leathers. It's a fairly simple concept-- Adequate protection for those inclined for speed. This can be a bit disappointing at times, as scale and chain mail offer so much more protection.

The call of the Adventurer has fallen to Molt's ears as of late, and let's not forget all the traveling one must do when a merchant. So Molt has commissioned for special leather armor to help him in case he's just not fast enough. Every piece of leather armor has some sort of lightweight plating to help protect those vital points in his body. It isn't much, but adds to the armor just enough to save himself from a mismatched fight.

Weapons

Molt can sometimes be seen with several different weapons.

• Dual Blades: Molt absolutely adores the idea of dual blades. This concept has not quite reached the city-states, though with a few visits to the Gladiator guild, and from training as a Pugilist for so many years, there is a bit of a fine line he is able to erase and train on his own. For this style he prefers dual daggers, though due to stigmata around them, he's oft to equip a short sword in his main hand. These weapons are nothing spectacular.

• Guisarme: Molt has a basic guisarme, again nothing special. He prefers this over the one dimensional spear or bulky lance. His more recent training as a lancer allows him to be proficient in this art.

• Longbow: An admitted weak spot for Molt, the longbow is one of the weapons he seems to have neglected the most, with only recent training with it. This was something of a cultural weapon he lost being in touch with, and currently serves him in hunting and target practice on his travels.

Specializations (Classes)

• Pugilist: Molt is an accomplished pugilist, training since he was around 12 cycles old. He has slowed down using this method of fighting, but it is still something he practices when visiting Ul'Dah. Underground fighting rings has taught him even the most dirtiest secrets to winning a match. To be able to fight with his fists, he does not like to wear even leather armor.
• Thief: While there is no training to be had under a guild, Molt is proficient with dual blades and trickery. This is his most preferred means of combat, but due to the stigmata of this unconventional fighting, it is something to be kept secret. He will wear a sash to cover his dagger at the back of his waist not only because of this, but to also have the upper hand in any confrontation.
• Lancer and Dragoon Molt is somewhat proficient as a lancer, once having training with the Order of the Stormguard. He showed a lot of promise, and was to be taught in the ways of the Dragoon, but the training halted unexpectedly when the Order mysteriously died out once again.

Weapon Skills

Gen descriptions of specific weapon skills or unique feats.

• Jump
• Venomous Blade
• Fast Blade

Hard Mode

Being trapped in a fight where there are extremely loud noises, a rage will build inside him and he will have an unpredictable wrath about him. While he may swing with more true strikes, he is bound to be more careless about what he does, only aiming to end what he is faced with and stop whatever loud noise is being broadcasted, as though like a coerl trapped in a corner. Gunshots are the worst in this way.

Strengths and Weaknesses

• Strengths:

Moltove can use his speed against slow enemies to quickly overpower them. Having training in a few different weapons, there is no weapon disadvantages he can't work around-- assuming he came prepared. This comes especially handy when traveling by caravan with all of his weapons- an unfortunate bandit will find himself bested by dual blades, a small gang of bandits will find a polearm guarding it's loot with ease. This becomes much more easier with inexperienced bandits with the correlated rise in crime within the past 5 cycles. Molt is certainly in his element when not defending a caravan or chocobo, as it's one less thing to worry about, though

Moltove can heal his own wounds when out of combat, albeit a bit slowly then most with the gift of conjury. A bit of alchemical know-how can surely make up for the lack of skill in this area.

• Weaknesses:

While Molt can certainly defend himself well enough in combat, it is still relatively easy to overwhelm him if his oppressor uses a great axe or other heavy weapon. Even more, due to only wearing reinforced leather, once a hit lands, from any blade, Molt sustains damage easier than one with plate. Thusly, with a few well-placed strikes, Molt will be down for the count. When traveling with his caravan, it only adds a distraction if there are multiple opponents, and a large group of people have the advantage to face him in combat. A smaller group can then ransack the loot that he holds while he is barred with fighting. In addition, Molt is not the best at any weapon craft, so it is possible to overcome any weapon advantages Molt may hold if one were very skilled with what they have.

If his glasses are knocked off or broken, Molt forgets that he is already blind, and will panic. He tends to protect his head more than one would normally, and thus will leave openings for a fast opponent to curve the strike to his arms or even chest or legs. If faced with loud noises, Molt will do anything to stop it or leave the area.

Moltove lacks the ability to heal, much less conjure protective shells, during battle. His conjury training was just enough to help him heal in his old line of work, and thus is useless and otherwise untrained unless if he has complete focus.

Relationships and Affiliations

Family

Moltove came from a unique lineage. His grandfather had married a Duskwight, despite both parents great disdain, as Duskwight and Wildwood alike we're keen on keeping their blood lines pure. Some time ago, this couple sought to unite the clans in a series of political movements. When not but very few of the Elezen even considered, the couple decided to marry to show that nothing would befall them. There is no other record of such a marriage, and even their own is not officially written in any document of history.

To celebrate their unorthodox union, their first born was given a surname that combined that of their own. While no Duskwight nor Wildwood ever shares a surname, there are very few, if any at all who even combined two opposite surnames.

Moltove's parents recognized this and thought similarly, though Tomaux, Moltove's father, was not so lucky in enchanting a Duskwight; nonetheless, to celebrate his parent's bravery, he had named his and his wife's child a sort of mix between his first name with Valarie's. The result did not sound quite as good, so instead they had named their child Moltove, in recognition that their child will know that love knows no bounds, and that despite cultural differences, one, or a couple, should be pleased to name or even do as they wish in their lives.

• Father: Tomaux Mon`Tova (presumed deceased)

• Mother: Valerie Serielle (presumed deceased)

• Siblings: Presumed only child

Friends

• Seraphine and Arydin Cerius: Highguards of the Order of the Stormguard, these two helped Molt walk a more meaningful path in life and to get him interested in the outside world. Despite their disappearance, Molt wishes to one day thank them for the training he received from the both of them, however brief it may have been. Five cycles have passed since mentioning of them, and there's no telling where they are-- but for now, the tattoo and his memories of them are clear indicators that they are(or at least Seraphine) still alive.

• Aylis Crescent: An interesting person, Molt had always thought. They met a couple of times at Thal's Respite and talked philosophy. Molt, never caring for such a thing, began to start thinking of the meaning of life and death on his own, inevitably changing his negative stance on the Twelve to be curious of Nymeia, the Spinner and Oschon, the Wanderer. Otherwise, she was just a Warden, just as he was, and was in good with Sera and Arydin, so what else could Molt ask for? His only regret is not being able to get to know her before her own disappearance.

• Shurin Mizune: A former Sworn to the Order, Molt had no choice but to try to trust him, despite Shurin's mess off a past. After that fiasco, Shurin gave no reason not to trust him, and Molt is more or less satisfied with being able to sneak an Order conversation or status update here or there with him. After the Full Cold Moon Gala, Molt has yet to see Shurin again, and at what cost if the last time he only briefly mentioned details on Sera and Aylis' whereabouts?

• Sienna Skye:This girl seemed easy to get around with and break the ice with-- at least at death galas. Molt was able to lighten up at the party because of her, and wherever she is, he hopes she made it out of that ordeal alright.

• Gerik Aston: As far as Molt is concerned, this brute, though seeming shy of his size and eating portions, is Molt's hero. From what Molt can remember, he was attacked by one of those four-legged, winged beasts that had struck the gala. When Molt recovered, he looked up and saw a giant splotch of grey he thought could have been the only thing to trample the beast so easily. Of course, the group they were around were all fighting the same beasts, but it's easier to thank the most likely person you see to save you.

• Eva Ianeira: She initiated and assisted in healing a lot of the injured people with Molt at the Gala. Unsure of how you can label a person untrustworthy after watching them help mend wounds, Molt trusts her enough with his own wounds. Her demeanor seemed easy-going, though a bit proper, but with meteors crashing down, who can truly tell?

• Shiro Armada: Another person Molt worked with while healing others. She was great help and was glad to see so many people still compassionate enough to help those in need while in a crisis. Admitting, this person helped Molt reconsider to study the healing arts, if at least somewhat.

Linkshells

No associations...

Other Associations (?)

Order of the Stormguard:

Moltove was a relatively new member of the ancient Order of the Stormguard. Very fast did he become a Warden, and said to help make way for rebuilding a lost fort and help reclaim the order to this secret society's former glory.

After the leader fell to critical injury, she was rushed out to an unknown island, and the Order disbanded. If one were even able to comprehend the gibberish that comes out of a sworn's mouth when talking business, you may find out that they just keep a low profile. You see, if the leader falls, all memories of the Order will be wiped from all members, and its secrets will be kept safe perhaps another time when the Order deems a new leader ready to take on the challenge. Thus, the surviving members in Eorzea of the Order have their memory still to this day, suggesting that while the leader is far away, the memories are still close at heart. At least...for now. At this time, Molt is unsure if there are any other survivors, as all linkpearls were rendered useless during the Calamity. The only thing he knows for sure is that Seraphine is out there somewhere.

After not having contact for over five cycles, he is not quite sure if he would resume the call of the Order, but for now he waits idly by, for the day when the call to arms once again shows itself. It's either that, or he wakes up with no tattoo, nor memory of the Order and he's unsure which will come first.

The Rumor Mill

► Common Rumors (Easily overheard):

• "That guy sure loves kids-- I've seen him in the alley sometimes, giving potions or food out to the orphan kids. How admirable!"
• "Speaking of potions, I think he worked at the Phrontistery! From what I hear, he's good but never got anywhere in there."
• "Isn't he a merchant? Yeah, that's right! I see him traveling on a chocobo caravan between Limsa, Ul'Dah and Gridania selling weapons and armor!"
• "The things he sells go for a high price-- I wonder why that is, especially considering that they seem...well, worn."
• "I think I've heard him talking about his daughter at the Quicksand-- something about how she's missing?"

► Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear):

• "I've talked to a guy, who knows a girl, who knew a guy who said that red-headed guy uses a dagger, but it certainly doesn't seem like he's doing any Gladiator training, if you know what I mean!"
• "I heard he wants to leave the merchant business, or at least change what he sells. Too bad he makes a bit too much money for him to just let go...greed binds all, it seems..."
• "My friend said she saw him in Gridania at night-- you know, at that playground? But she said he was just moping around, and the next thing she knew, he was gone!"
• "I heard weapons and armor are not the only thing he sells-- Materia, but only to certain clients!"

► Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard):

• "He's a formidable fist-fighter, but you couldn't tell-- that's why I used to bet on his scrawny ass in the Underground!!"
• "I heard that he didn't just find those weapons...and the materia is somehow related to it!"
• "I've seen him pick pocket before. But when I was about to confront him, he placed the purse in some kid's hands and left. That's noble and all, but why does he steal when he has money?"

History

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

Before 1.0

Born (Year 1547) Show text

The hills in the plains were still and settled underneath the pink glow of dawn. No sound filled the air louder than the 'kwehs' of the nearest village sitting humbly by the tranquil river. you could even hear the soft chirps of the birds in the distance, flitting playfully between the leaves and moving with ease through the branches. Once in a while you could hear the calls of the opopos, though it was a bit early for even their hooping and hollering. The wind hardly blew at all, an uneventful precursor to the day, despite what one newly formed family may think.

School-age (Age:5) Show text

Molt is made fun of for being different and quirky. The red hair doesn't help (Gingers weren't appreciated in Eorzea!). Shed light on schooling in Gridania, mainly focusing on the playground behind Carpenter's Guild.

Gridania Incident (Age:10) Show text

For age 10, Molt's dad could be racist, since they're elezen and hyurs moved onto their land. Molt's dad can demonstrate how to protect yourself from the Ixali

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

• • • The takeover was not violent.....gotta fix this some***

When the Garleans took hold of Ala Mhigo, the people in the surrounding areas thought the grueling empire's iron fist would stay clenched around the lost city. Taken by surprise, they underestimated this as the Garlean iron fist of oppression would outstretch its horrifying claws to surrounding villages. Platoons of soldiers would march over the plains of Gyn Abania, lead by their monstrous centurions, killing all in their wake as though these men and women were the fingers of such an iron fist, outstretched and ready to grab everything in its reach.

When they came, they came fast, much sooner than expected. It would seem as though conquering the surrounding area was more important to the Garleans than the simple-minded villagers thought. When they came to the village that hald Molt, Molt's own father was one of the few on the front lines of defense for the village whom combat came as second nature. Admittedly, there were so few people to defend against the massacre to come, but it was a comfort that they held and took pride on as they sworn to protect those trying to flee. It worked, mostly.

Molt's mother was one of the few still attempting to flee when those sworn few were slain. The Garleans pushed through without casualty, and a lone centurion stepped forward, gunblade drawn and ready for more. The sight of a struggling mother with her son seemed almost as though it enraged him, provoking him to take care of this himself. He laid claim to these two, and the rest of the soldiers stood still as an audience waiting to see a work of art drawn on a canvas in front of them.

Pressing forward to the woman, no more than 10 yalms from her, the point of his blade aimed for her body. She was caught in her tracks. Trapped in nothing but an open village square with nothing to duck or dive into. She clutched her son close to her, turning her back towards the enemy. A loud crack resonated around the hills of the village. If there were any soldiers still continuing their killing spree, they all forgot about their own prey and turned to face their superior officer. The officer that would go home at the end of the day to his own loving wife and children, and sit down at a meal and deny anything he had done that day was wrong.

The bullet pierced into Serena's back and she dropped at an instant. Molt landed underneath her and cried for her, screaming for his mother. While fatally injured, she clutched the boy to her chest. He could hear his mother's ragged breathing, her breath wheezing and doused in blood. She cocked her head back to glance behind her and saw the centurion approaching, readying his blade to finish the job. Panicking, she did the only thing she thought even remotely sane in this horrible time. Almost without thought, she shoved Molt's face into the ground and began casting a spell, keeping her hands over her son's eyes. Molt struggled and continued to scream in horror, afraid of what was to come next.

The centurion approached ever-closer, his gunblade aimed for the mother's head, finger on the trigger. He squeezed it, a smile covering his face, concealed by the gruesome mask everyone in Eorzea will come to know. As the trigger pulled, he took in the full view of his kill as though it was just that perfect work of art. There were to loud cracks this time, breaking the silence that fell over the village, breaking the chanting of the sobbing woman, and breaking the unattended cries of this child.

She had completed her spell. Almost. As a result, the second crack was from her hands. While hiding the horrible scene playing in front of her son, she had been casting a blinding spell on him, to protect him from the gruesome image of witnessing her and perhaps his own death. The effect was unique in that while the child had struggled, she was only able to keep one hand over his face; it was over his left eye. The entirety of the spell did not take hold as expected, but backfired by blinding only that eye, causing serious damage from the interruption in casting. While it was to be a variation of a simple spell, she wanted to add time to ensure the child would not come to senses and sight with the monstrous gunblade to his forehead, or to his gut, ready to spill the life from him. Instead of temporary blindness, no matter the time restraint, Molt was instead cursed with what seemed to be permanent blindness in one eye.

The crack coming from the woman and child seemed to startle the centurion. Cautiously, he probed and prodded the corpse of the mother, finally flipping her over to see what happened. The child lay motionless with magicked scorch marks over his face. The soldier took this in for a moment, reflecting. Was this a form of love? Killing your own child to spare him an even worse fate? Disregarding the thought, he shook his head and was satisfied with what he saw. Turning around to face his troops, he gave the signal to wrap up their business and take leave, readying to perform the heinous acts from this village and Twelve knows how many other villages to the next one.

Moltove awoke several bells later, into the setting sun. He could not see but grey misshapen forms out of his right eye, unable to even recognize the loss of sight altogether from his left. For what seemed like many suns he fumbled around, trying to make sense of his village while tripping over cold, wet, fleshy lumps on the ground. He called out, but there was no response. Again, but nothing. To the best of his hindered ability, he gathered supplies, patting around while crawling, finding a loose cloth to bundle them together in. One of the apples he had found kept falling from the sack, so he reverted to carrying it in his arms, though none too soon after finding a sheathed dagger, quickly stashing it in the sack. In reality, only but two bells have passed since he had woken up, and now the night had fell. With no light to guide him, he set off, knapsack in hand, taking each step carefully as he began his adventure alone.

The boy tripped several times, but it did not deter him. He gathered his things once more and continued on, learning from each fall to walk more cautiously, to feel around for better footing.

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

-Ul'dahns are taught at a young age to read peoples character and are thus the best judges of character in Eorzea. This has a lot to do with avoiding getting scammed and knowing who you can scam.

The Dagger Dance: A game made popular in Ul'dah. It consists of three to five players quickly tossing a dagger back and forth. Players are eliminated if they fail to catch the knife or are wounded, and the last player standing wins.

Battle of Silvertear Skies (Age: 16)
The night was still young, when it started, but it was still dark. When Moltove had climbed the worn, creaking steps from the even darker, grunge halls of Ul'Dah's underground premier fight club, he expected to see a clear, crisp night as the day earlier suggested. He had lost focus in the previous fight, and would soon be reprimanded for it. It was getting difficult to drown out the sound of the drunken, howling men below, waging who would come out the victor. Stepping back into the above-ground streets of Ul'Dah usually allowed him a moment's respite to refocus and meditate so he could do just that, but upon sliding the rusted barricade over the door, and opening the gate from hell, he soon realized there was something bigger going on.

What seemed like lightning in the distance flashed with intermittent time. A closer look gave away the tell-tale signs of Garlean magitek, hidden in the cloak of the cirrus clouds to the north. Moltove immediately rushed through the alley, wearing only but his normal fighting clothes: light leather bracers, leather chaps and a light, leather harness that exposed most of his chest. He was a sight to see, though not entirely out of the ordinary if he were to come from the Platinum Mirage. Exiting an alley off of the Sapphire exchange, he rushed past bystanders watching the same sight as he, occasionally bumping and shoving past them. He made his way to one of the few tunnels to lead outside, around the large gate that remained closed what seemed indefinately.

There, he saw it clearer, looking to the north, and into the skies. Were the Garlean's invading? The couldn't be, they're already engaged into battle. But with who? What seemed like specks of ember fell to the ground, but he could not tell what they were. Another Empire with airships? Beasts? They must have been over Mor Dhona, Molt thought. They weren't as far north as Ishguard, of which he would doubt he would even see. The green specks of light gave away all the Garlean's fleet-- those were the tall, white mobile units he had seen once in a great while. There was one dark mass that seemed to have given itself away by the amount of whatever it was firing in various directions.

Molt was not the only one to be watching this unfold, as countless adventurers and Ul'dah citizens alike were sitting on what seemed to be a giant front porch to the great city-state.

"What's going on?!" Molt exclaimed, hoping someone around him would answer. A fair skinned Hyur with dark hair was the only one who answered back. It looked as though he was there for some time as he sat on a blanket with a lantern. A basket with food seemed to be his companion for the night.

"Well, it looks as though the Garlean's are at it again. They're attacking something over yonder, there." He replied.

"How long has this been going on?"

The Hyur tapped a finger to his chin in consideration, "I'd reckon for several hours now. It started when it was still light out, but the night waits for no-- Look, there!" he stammered, pointing up to the sky. There was a loud explosion, heard even all the way from the far reaches of the desert, illuminated by a blue beam of light. Something had awoken, and joined the forrey.

The damage sustained by the airships began to fill the air with a smog, hiding the main battle from prying eyes, only to illuminate a faint blue once in a while. Now more than ever did it seem to be a terrible sight-- flecks of what seemed like were discarded, burning ember fell from the sky, as though they were meteors from the cosmos. But Molt knew better. They were either ship or beast, but considering the last explosion, it was likely to be beast, and what beast could be that high but dragons and wyvern-kin?

The view did not last, as then something so large fell from the grace of the smoke and clouds. It was as though it were in slow motion, seconds of waiting for the thing to hit the land beneath it felt like bells, yet when it crashed, it crashed hard. the bright, ceruleum explosion lit up the sky with a beam of brilliance, shooting to the heavens. Molt took a step back as countless others gasped in horror. What was this he was seeing? Why were the Garleans attacking dragons in the north? What happened? Why?

While the crash itself seemed to take minute after minute of horrifying anguish, the explosion and light seemed to have disappeared within mere seconds in comparison. There seemed to be no direct consequences after the fact, and many outside began to wander back into the city to report and gossip about what they saw. None other than Molt seemed to be shaken from what he witnessed that night. Would there be more attacks? A war? Or even, perhaps the end of Garlemald? Surely not, bur perhaps they will think twice about attacking something again, and keep to themselves. All these thoughts ran through Molt's head as he stumbled his way back to the damnable alley from whence he came. He banged on the large, iron door to admit himself back into the even darker underworld than what one could expect from Ul'dah. Climbing down the rotting steps, bracing himself on the moss covered stone walls, his manager met him at the foot of the descent.

"It's about time you get back--you're up next. Better pray to the Twelve and get your ass back in there-- you've got three more fights before you can leave for home!"

Molt indeed prayed that night, for the first time since he was a child.

"Nothing good may come of this..." Molt said to himself, before opening the door to the fighting room.

Scar? Show text

RIVAL did it.

Meeting Solei/The Escape to Gridania, Forest of Pain and Misery (Age:18) Show text

Forgot what the second part was about. Met Solei, the beginning of all current issues. Begining of escaping fighting rings. 

Scar? Show text

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

Marriage (Age:20) Show text

Happiness! Almost in celebration of Molt putting a stop to his late night brawls, they get married and prepared for a new life. 

Childbirth (Age:22) Show text

Duh.. 

The Split (Age:24) Show text

Kidnapping? Left? Original plan was to have many fights lead to this. 

1.0

1.0 (Age:25) Show text

</spoiler>

The Spoilermity

Meteor (Age:25) Show text

Molt attends the battle of the flats, partly to search for someone, or anyone he may know but mostly on a last ditch effort to prove something to himself and make something of his life-- or last remaining moments of his life. Shortly after the key dropped to the earth is when Molt decided...it wasn't worth dieing over. This is where he obtains a chocobo, and tries to gtfo as fast as possible, relying on Bahamut to take his time flying around (such as his flight of Limsa-- pretty far away). This is not to say there are not any instances of a bucking Chocobo or injuries, but it's general enough for a start.

The Recovery

The Aftermath (Age:25) <spoiler>

Molt retreats to Thal's Respite; a cave in Thanalan, a common place for an old Stormguard friend to visit and pray. Molt's ideals and even worship changes to Nymeia. A stash of necessities was left behind some time ago, about a day or two's worth, by Shurin and Molt uses them, leaving the cave for the first time a week later. Hungry, he scavenges for what remaining flora and fauna may be around. He does this for about a month, untrusting on what may be happening beyond the fields and canyons of Thanalan.

Year 1 (Age:26) Show text

Eventually he returns to Ul'Dah, attempting to reclaim anything he once had in a rented inn room. Noting such destruction, he makes his way to Gridania. Seeing the destruction here, he gives up-- surely Limsa is no better off. He makes a decision in the third or fourth month of the year to visit the battleground. While there, he gets an idea that will help him turn a profit in the aftermath of war-- take weapons and armor-- and anything else of value laying around-- and sell them (if it's possible to visit, much less reclaim anything). Possibly a mysterious mark forms on one or both of his arms (No base for this-- stop making things up!) No wait, it'd be for void or shadow spells...in case THF/ASS would ever be released...

-Ul'dah lacks resources compared to other nations, but makes up for it in trading. However since the Garleans blocked trade routes, the merchant population has diminished significantly source : Styrmoeya

Molt seizes the lack of Garlean pressure on the trading routes

Year 2 (Age:27) Show text

He gathers what he can from the lost battlefield and stores it in a hidden location, possibly in the cave he took refuge in. He fixes up the cart he had found not far from the battlefield (the some one he used to transport all those weapons), and makes a pilgrimage. He starts in the plains east of Gridania, near Ala Mhigo, to a location that was leveled some time ago. He spends weeks excavating the site, finding a necklace, presumably his mothers, while camping out or staying a few nights in Ala Mhigo (assuming it's not destroyed). Once satisfied, he takes his pilgrimage and travels the land, staying nowhere twice. Visits even Ishgard-- may have a purpose there, but since it won't be open upon release, and considering Bahamut is a dragon, probably not a good idea. He picks up anything worth selling on the way, stopping sometimes to visit the flora to stock up on ingredients; regents and such.

Year 3 (Age:28) Show text

Finishing his journey, he returns to Ul'Dahl to check the progress. There's not much, so focusing on crafting/doctoring biz during the day, he also trains at night. This is probably the time when the Garleans will be sending out forces, so it's also a time to start selling his supplies.

Year 4 (Age:29) Show text

Possibly back and forth between Ul'Dah and the Black Shroud/Gridania. He focuses on training, picking up some Black Magic, refines White Magic, and hones his combat with use of a dagger, his fists, and a pole arm, possibly swords. If he did not gain the mysterious mark in Year 1, then he instead gets a tattoo, for the hell of it-- he himself is changing from what he once used to be, after all.

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

He hones in on his training. By now, he should have picked up the basics and even advanced skills of a sword and armor smith, since having to sell them requires knowledge, use and practice in the art. His Alchemy should be maxed out, and healing techniques should be comfortable. If he gained the mysterious mark, his black magic training should be more focused on the Umbral/Void/Shadow magicks. This isn't his everyday thing, the magic is just used in his combat skills. Place of residency in ARR is unknown.

A Realm Reborn

ARR (Age:30)