|Height/Weight||6 fulms 11 ilms / 175 ponz|
|Occupation||Chief Storm Sergeant|
Current Name: Einvardaux "Karvel" Sailwright (ai-n-vaar-dou / car-vaal / sail-right)
Nicknames: Ein (with friends), Karvel (with Sea Wolf Roegadyn), or simply Chief / Sergeant / Chief Sergeant / etc.
Meaning: His current name he chose himself, keeping his given name a secret. Einvardaux is a compilation of words from an old Duskwight dialect, loosely translating to Lonely Guardian. Karvel is an obscure word for deckhand, a name earned during his many years working amongst the Sea Wolves. Sailwright is a name granted by the Hyur of Limsa Lominsa for his skill with cloth and wind, and his proclivity to climb the rigging and ride the mast even in storms.
Height: 6 fulms, 11 ilms, putting him at the taller end of the normal standard deviation for Elezen males.
Weight: 175 ponz, primarily muscle due to long years at sea and in military service.
Body: Tall and lithe, Ein keeps himself in shape by meticulously performing his exercise regimen daily. He keeps himself covered from toes to hands to neck in dark colored silk at all times, and light but functional leather body armor over it when on duty.
Face/Head: His silver and black hair (more salt than pepper) is kept in a short tail at the base of his skull, leaving his ears and face free. His eyes are a bright swirling silver-grey, reminiscent of a storm at sea. His main distinguishing feature is an old, light scar running from his left cheek diagonally down past his jawbone, disappearing under his clothes.
Voice: Ein's voice is a resonant tone. Not loud, but easily carrying across rooms, with a gravelly quality only earned from too many years in salty sea air.
Demeanor: On duty, Ein is a relentlessly efficient taskmaster. He keeps long lists of complex orders running, and none under his command ever find themselves with nothing to do for long. Off duty, he is most often seen sitting along the lesser used piers or shoreline, whittling. He does not have many friends, but those that can count themselves in that elite cadre have found him to be polite, conversational, and a very good storyteller.
Flaws: A weakness for perfection, Ein can't abide disorder for long. He will clean other people's messes if left alone long enough, as well as compulsively sweeping and dusting anything he can find. Those who have sailed with him have also noticed that he has an aversion to staying indoors for any length of time. The longer he stays under a roof, or the smaller the room to which he is confined, the more irritable and panicky he becomes.
- Stories (telling or listening)
- Whittling wooden figurines
- Freshly cooked fish
- Closed spaces
- Bloody Executioners (and most other pirates by extension)
- Collecting and recording stories
- Folding paper boats
- Making designs in water or torchlight with light Aether touches
Current: Having survived his entire Clan, Ein has only figurative family. He considers Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn to be as close as he will ever attain again. She is treated with the respect due her station when on duty, and as a younger sister when off duty.
Father: Jeaneaux Unaratienne was the brisk and taciturn head of the Unaratienne Merchant Family. He was often away on trade negotiation and acquisition missions, so was rarely home. DECEASED
Mother: Gienette Unaratienne was loving and indulgent of her children, commanding and intimidating to all others. As the wife of the absent Merchantlord, she stood for him in all Clan and Cavern affairs, disputes, negotiations, and exchanges. While at home, she insisted on providing the education for her children herself, training them in all of the ways that they could assist the Family and Clan during their lifetimes. DECEASED
Banoix was the eldest and first in line to succeed their father as Merchantlord. He was a dozen years older than Ein and as such they had little connection. He routinely left with their father on the shorter trading missions to further learn his place in the world, as well as to cement him with the allies and associates of the Family. DECEASED
Allielle was the eldest female sibling. Her skill and aptitude with the Aetherflow led to her preparation for assignment as a Windcaller-in-Training on one of the Trade Fleet vessels that frequented the cavern. Her training schedule would have had her leaving on a ship a few years after the collapse that killed the entire Cavern. DECEASED
Samiine was the youngest female sibling. She was ten years younger than Ein, making her the darling of the family. She would often follow him on his walks through the byways of the caverns and would giggle and cheer when he could make the water or fires dance with a brush of Aether. DECEASED
A small number of guards and sailors of the Crimson Fleet in Limsa sometimes call Ein a friend, but most keep the connection quiet in deference to the ancient Elezen.
- Common Rumors (Easily overheard):
- His scar is from a failed pirate assault on a ship he was aboard, no pirates survived. (false)
- He is over 100, and has outlived everyone he's ever met. Possibly immortal. (false)
- In addition to being a Chief Sergeant, he is also an accomplished member of the Thaumaturge Guild. (true)
- Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear):
- He has no friends or family because one day he snapped and killed them all. (false)
- His clothes hide a body covered in the scars of decades of sea battles, truly gruesome to look upon. (semi-true)
- He drinks nightly with the Admiral, and assists in battle planning. (false)
- The locket he carries with him contains the picture of his long dead true love (both true and false)
- Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard):
- The stylized Leviathan figurine in the Admiral's display case was carved by him. (true)
- He is the sole survivor and end of his bloodline. (true)
- Einvardaux isn't his real name (true)
The Elezen now known as Einvardaux was born in a Duskwight Cavern whose name has been lost to time and tragedy. He was born Allaraux Unaratienne in the 1490th year of the Sixth Astral Era to the fairly wealthy Unaratienne Merchantlord family. His siblings Banoix and Allielle preceeded him by 15 years and 3 years respectively. He grew up in a warm home despite his father, Jeaneaux, being away for months at a time on trading and negotiation missions and his mother, Gienette, being on constant call as Arbiter and Negotiator for the Cavern's complex trading politics. His early years were marked by being raised alternately by his mother and older sister, both of whom were very loving provided he continued to display the hereditary skill and ease of learning as the rest of the family.
His schooling progressed mundanely through his thirteenth year. During this time he learned about the various Fleets in the surrounding area, the various trade formalities with the different species, complex internal mathematics, and extensive courses on diplomacy and formalities. During non-schooling times he would, more often than not, be found wandering the side tunnels and coves that bordered the Cavern Lake and its waterways leading to the dim light outside. When his younger sister was born in his tenth year, the entire family turned into her willing supplicants. Her raven hair and her porcelain skin gave her an almost ethereal glow, and coupled with her quick-to-laugh personality and extroverted nature, she quickly became the darling of all visitors as well.
His connection with Samiine was closer and deeper than with the rest of the family, and since they both felt like outcasts in their own private ways, she would often slip away from her doting masses to walk the corridors with him, content in their shared silence. To amuse her he used his connection to the Aetherflow to move fire and water, making dancing figures in the torchlight or on the surface of the dark water of the coves. More often than not, she would sing songs that she'd learned from one visitor or another, her small crystalline voice echoing softly through the byways as his figures danced in time with her notes.
When he was fourteen, he met the young daughter of one of the politicians that his mother had to deal with frequently. Ellenne had silver hair with golden highlights that fell to her knees, rarely bound, that would rush and swirl around her in the slightest breeze. It was smooth enough that it never seemed to tangle but her mother, Prelate Cynnette Yaroux, would constantly berate her for not keeping a more professional appearance. Her eyes were dark pools of midnight blue, her lips were the faintest pink, and her skin was dark, smooth, and beautiful. She was an inquisitive girl who had no significant connection to the Aetherflow, yet was obsessed with the dealings of mages of all types. Her interest in Allaraux was piqued when she saw him making dancing figures one day with his sister. Allaraux fell for her completely. He would make any excuse to accompany his mother into town on the chance that he could see her, as well as stealing away himself during his long solitary walks to her Clan's holdings nearby. They spent the next few months as secret friends, sharing every detail of their lives with each other whenever they could, to delay their parting that much longer.
Near the end of their fourteenth year, they shared their first kiss. The cove they chose was the furthest secluded, with dim reflected light from the water flowing over the dark sand beach. The tide was out, and the mood was right. From that day on, they stole every kiss they could. Two months later, they deflowered each other on the same beach, on a blanket spread across the sand. Afterwards, she gave him her locket, so that he would have something of hers to remember her by, with a pebble from the beach inside, so he would never forget what they shared.
Three months into his fifteenth year, Allaraux's father was made aware of the couple and greatly disapproved. He immediately sent Allaraux to a ship leaving on the high tide for a trade mission, and stormed to the Prelate's house to confront the erstwhile teen and her uninformed mother. The ship's captain, a Sea Wolf Roegadyn named Strong Tide, agreed to take the boy to a trade summit he was attending, and return in the following spring. As the ship moved from the dock, a number of sailors struggled to restrain the boy as he attempted to dive overboard to return home. He was eventually lashed to the deck chair on the aftcastle.
As the ship moved toward the tunnel leading out of the Cavern, a great crack resounded. All hands stopped to turn and watch in horror as the walls and ceiling undulated with the force of a titanic quake, then gave way. Hundreds of tons of stone rained down death upon the cavern, crushing every building and person still on land. Allaraux could only scream. Captain Tide lashed his crew into a frenzy, riding the gale wind from the destruction out of the tunnel system. He lost five hands to falling rocks, including his Windmaker and Bosun.
Life aboard ship was hard, but not as hard as it would have been. The crew showed the hollow boy deference for his lost family, and tried to include him in everything as best they could. For his part, Allaraux stopped responding to his name, reacting only when someone called boy. He learned to carry his weight on the ship, and even began to learn the working of the wind magic that fueled the sails when no natural wind could be found. He slept nightly on deck, refusing to go below. To get him protected during a mild storm, a few well meaning hands bound him and dragged him inside. The resulting fire nearly cost the ship and all her crew their lives.
At their first few ports, he simply sat and watched the cargo and sailors come and go, showing little interest in any of their dealings. On their fifth stop, Captain Tide held a small ceremony welcoming him to the crew officially. He presented him with a small net knife, with the instructions to use it to create art or to save his life, nothing more.
Over the next few years, he became skilled in Windcalling and woodworking both. He never let any carving last longer than a few minutes once finished, before throwing them high in the air and igniting them. When asked, he would always reply "It wasn't good enough.". The ports and fellow sailors all blended together, as he never cared enough to learn anyone's names. The decade came and went, and one day Captain Tide came to him in his canopy on deck.
"Boy, I'll be retiring at the end of this trip. Two more weeks and I'll ne'er set foot on the sea again." he rumbled.
"Very well, Captain. I shall prepare to find new employment." The Boy replied.
"You don't seem to understand, so I'll make it clear. I'm giving you my ship, but you'll need a name. You aren't a boy anymore, so you'll have to pick something more suitable."
The Boy thought for a few long moments.
"Then I choose the name Einvardaux. It means Lonely Guardian in one of the old tongues, but still holds the honor for my...family."
The Captain nodded.
"Very well Einvardaux. This ship is yours when I set foot on the quay. Do with her as you see fit for it'll be none of my business from then on." he finished, and walked away without another word.
True to his promise, the day came and they docked at a small town in a deep bay. Strong Tide hefted his bag to his shoulder, took a deep breath, nodded to his crew, and walked away without looking back.
The sailors all turned to Ein expectantly, waiting for orders. He thought for a moment about what Captain Tide would do. With a deep bellow, he barked out orders to set sail, sending the crew scurrying to their tasks. He walked to the ship's wheel, called up a gale, and fled the bay to try and outrun the sadness.
More than a few decades passed as he led his ever ephemeral crew of the ship on trading missions, escorting diplomatic vessels from one port to another, and any other odd jobs that he could find for them as a pseudo-mercenary vessel. His paths crossed a number of other Captains, so that he began to learn the faces that went with the mast colors. A few he felt he might eventually be able to call friend.
Then one day he saw the colors of one of his almost-friends burning. They were under attack by a pirate crew and were sorely losing the battle. Without thought for the safety of himself or his crew, he charged into the fray. His fore-spike impaled the pirate vessel broadside, locking the three vessels together. He ran from the aft to the fore, and with a quick leap gained the deck of the other ship. Once there he saw the grisly magnitude to which they had already succeeded. The entire crew was dead, the pirates in the process of scuttling the ship having taken all the spoils. He felt a deep fury building in him. His never-quite-healed loss of his home, the departure of his Captain, and now the loss of a friend and his ship.
With a bellow of pained rage, he unleashed all of the power and fury he could draw upon. The world went red, then orange, then white. Screams echoed across the still sea air, then he was in the water.
When he awoke, he was bandaged head to foot, lying in a comfortable bed in a far too small room. As he began to get up, the two healers in attendance gently but firmly pushed him back down to the bed. He persisted, feeling the power begin to flow once again. His bandages began to smoke and he was able to utter a single word. "Out...side." The heat and pain continued to get worse, until a young female voice got the attention of all three men. "Take the man outside. He's a seaman, he's uncomfortable indoors. Speak of this to no one." Turning his head, he saw a not young, but certainly not old, female in a complex uniform.
Stepping forward, she said, "You are in Limsa Lominsa, and I am the Admiral in charge here. Are you sailor or pirate?"
Growling at her, he struggled out, "Pirates...die...I...sail."
She nodded, seeming to accept that as explanation enough. His hospice care was moved to a covered exterior patio on the inland side of Limsa, and he was allowed all of the rest and care he needed to regain his mobility and voice. As he regained his strength, the young Admiral would often come and talk to him, although he would rarely reply in more than short, clipped, phrases. He learned that the world had changed land-side, new rules had risen and fell, and more and more of "his people" were walking under the sky. Everyday, he asked her the same question. "Where is the rest of my crew?" and everyday she would answer "You aren't strong enough to care for others yet. Rest now."
Finally, when he was able to wear clothes without pain, and could move and stretch without breaking wounds, she answered him. "You were found in the middle of a field of burnt wood, floating unconscious, lashed to some floating timbers. Can you tell us what happened?"
He nodded. "My crew are dead. My friends are dead. But the pirates are dead."
She nodded back. "I have need of good sailors. I can't give you your own ship on your word that you used to be a Captain, but I can give you a job. What were you best at?"
"Windcalling, steering, and long ago I could say diplomacy. The world has changed since I last bothered to look, so that may not be true anymore."
"Windcalling? We haven't called it that in fifty years. All of the old Windcallers are long since dead and gone. Let me see what we can do though."
She introduced him to the local Thaumaturge Guild, who happily accepted the ancient pupil, as well as to a number of the Bosuns of ships in the Crimson Fleet, her charge in the city. He took a post as a sailor of one of the line ships, spending his days repairing sails and rigging, and his nights studying. His talks with the Admiral became less frequent as her position required more and more of her time and attention, but her feelings on their friendship showed in little things. His hammock was replaced with a high quality silk Duskwight hammock, he was offered enlistment into the Maelstrom naval services, he found obscure texts on Thaumaturgalogical practice and theory on his little shelf occasionally.
He patiently worked hard, kept his head down and his nose clean as they say, and the promotions flowed readily to him. The line he drew was at command. When offered a Lieutenant's commission and a position as a First Officer on a ship, he politely declined. He'd had his fill of command, and just wanted to be a Sergeant. He could keep people alive better that way.
The turning of the age happened on Land, so the navy was not called upon to participate. He watched from afar as Dalamund descended, and released the terror who reduced an entire Era to so much glass and twisted metal. He swore he'd not let that happen to anyone he cared about ever again, even if it killed him.