Suna Yari
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 Yari no Suna
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| Gender | Female |
| Race | Au Ra |
| Clan | Raen |
| Citizenship | Doman |
| Age | 24 |
| Marital Status | Single |
| Occupation | Spearmaiden |
| Height/Weight | 110 ponze (50 kg) / 61 ilms (155 cm) |
| Orientation | Bisexual |
| Relatives |
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Yari no Suna (Eorzean: Suna Yari) (1st Sun 4th Astral Moon (1 Apr)) is a Au Ra spearmaiden displaced by the destruction of her homeland by the Garleans. She currently roams Eorzea, exploring and assisting anyone she encounters in the name of defending her new home.
Contents
Basic Info
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Appearance & Personality
- 110 ponze packed in 61 ilms, Suna hardly stands out anywhere. Her chestnut brown hair is kept fastidiously braided, albeit loosely and her dark blue eyes are capped with an only slighter hue of limbal rings. Her pale skin belies the hours spent training above the clouds under the sun, though her cheeks get red from exertion should there ever be a need for them to. Her chin juts out, providing a nice contrast from the smoothness of the rest of her face while her eyes are almost always wide open, searching for something, anything, to lock on to.
- Very few had ever heard Suna speak more than a few terse, clipped words as if the very act of talking caused physical distress on her. Perhaps it did, though none had ever really asked. She speaks through other means, a small smile, a wince, laughter quickly ended before it could truly begin. She communicates with her hands, giving people things for reasons known only to her. Most of the time, however, she is alone, quiet, watching others go about their lives. Even at rest, her hands constantly move in small gestures, a habit forged by one used to wielding a spear where sweeping motions were reserved for decisive blows. She is partial to food, and would like to eat new things. Perhaps, if one were lucky - and the food good enough - one could see her eyes crinkle into a smile masked by quick chewing.
Biography
Yari
- In the Mountain Valleys in Northern Othard, where spring meant “less snow” was the village of the Yari. A village of Raen, they kept to themselves, wholeheartedly consumed by the drive to perfect their worship and practice of the spear. From making, to wielding, and trading the rare metals found in the high altitudes for produce and goods to supplement the few things they can plant.
- In the Mountain Valleys in Northern Othard, where spring meant “less snow” was the village of the Yari. A village of Raen, they kept to themselves, wholeheartedly consumed by the drive to perfect their worship and practice of the spear. From making, to wielding, and trading the rare metals found in the high altitudes for produce and goods to supplement the few things they can plant.
- The Lancers of Gridania and the Dragoons of Ishgard believe the spear to be an extension of their bodies. The Yari, however, believed the opposite, that their bodies were an extension of the spear, whose will was carried out by the spearmasters and spearmaidens that devoted their lives to the craft. High up in the mountain valleys of Northern Othard, flanked by the Skypiercer and the other, jagged spires of the Tail Mountains, where good footing was a luxury, the Yari family had grown from one, to several smaller families all claiming the name of the spear.
- By tradition, the second child of every household of the Yari was offered to the temple of the Dawn Father on their ninth nameday, where hewn rocks had been molded into a suitable training ground for the future defenders of their village. Yari no Suna’s parents had two children, a boy and a girl. She was the second.
Spearmaiden
- She would never speak of it, but sometimes, she had to strain to remember their faces when they came to visit on her name day, the only time of the year during her apprenticeship that she would get a reprieve from the painful task of training her body and mind into the singular devotion of the spear. Her parents were always happy to see her though her brother seemed ill at ease around her for reasons unable to be explained in one full day. The only day they had.
- She loved them, in her own strange way, and they loved her. Although they knew that the young child that had run around their home as her father toiled in his workshop was gone, replaced by a spearmaiden who they could be proud of one day. Gone was the little girl that had demanded to be brought to the market to watch the merchants from Doma go by on their way to the inn. Suna had turned quiet, closed to them. Hours upon hours of meditating and training had changed her. On her 17th name day, they did not visit. Suna understood. She shed many tears that night, and very rarely ever since.
- She trained, for there was nothing else to do now. For her last year she trained long and hard and shied away more than normal. She rarely spoke, even to her masters. She nodded, she bowed, and she did her drills dutifully. Her masters did not care overmuch if she did not speak, only that she performed admirably. Suna performed admirably, and that was enough for them though none could claim to have seen her smile.
- On her 18th nameday, she went to the market and watched the people, committing their faces, their actions and reactions into memory. It reminded her of what it meant to be human, to be less of the spear. It was her one indulgence having nothing else.
- She wed her spear the next day.
- The Wedding of the Spear was the end of her apprenticeship. Now she was to journey through the mountains, giving succor to those in need. The Yari had no official command, only that they were to take the teachings of honour and courage to heart. Suna left her village and never came back.
The Steppe and Doma
- She followed the caravans, long trains of pulled carts carrying wares by the Domans, the only people brave or foolish enough to go through the mountain passes. Merchants paid her good coin to protect them and to save them should they fall down, her nimble footing and speed, her willingness to jump into the abyss below to save a merchant were what made her just too important to pass by.
- They would say goodbye to her at the edge of Raen land. At the foothills she would find another caravan requesting her aid, to other Raen towns or even farther North through Xaela territory. She did this for a year before her curiosity, the fires of which her masters had thought long since quenched, got the better of her. One day, just after escorting a caravan, she ignored all others and walked on. She would only look back once, with eyes at once devoid of emotion and full of hope. Perhaps she would return one day. Perhaps not.
- It surprised her to note that the first settlement she saw wasn't Doman, but Xaela. Here in the Azim Steppe where the Dawn Father waged his endless war against the Dusk Mother, her cousins of the dark scale had claimed the soil for their own. The first tribe was saw were the Arulaqs, who seemed nice enough by Suna's reckoning with several youths offering training - at least that was what Suna had thought - in their ways. Their elder too, was kind but she moved on. She wished to see the world, after all. Not simply the vistas afforded by the Skypiercer on exceptionally clear days. There was a strange sadness when she entered Doma from the South, where the hills were easy enough for Suna to jump across. In a small village north of the Rainbow Lake, she entered Doma. That sad, strange land in a place she thought was beautiful, where colours clashed and broke apart and reformed under that lake bed. When she saw the glittering basin for the first time, the largest body of water she had ever seen at that point Suna thought she had reached the sea. And then everything went black.
Home
- The House of the Fierce was the home of the Doman Liberation Front and, for Suna a realisation that Domans lived in caves. A realisation that was corrected two seconds later when she realised that she had been tied and bound, her spear no where to be seen with nothing but a small, old rice cake for a meal. Quietly, she ate the rice cake, bending over to finish it all from her plate and wiggled herself up, moving towards the door and knocking with her forehead. "My name is Yari no Suna, spearmaiden. I would like my spear back please." Suna asked politely. It was never proper to simply destroy a door - one she could have easily destroyed even bound and tied as she was - without asking nice first. The Doman on the other side who had been watching her the whole time opened the door and, with two warriors on either side, weapons drawn, untied her. "Welcome, spearmaiden. I am Tosen of the Doman Liberation Front." the man bowed in Doman fashion. He was polite too, Suna noted.
- The Doman Resistance, for what little that it was at the time knew of the Yari. With very little people to trade with, they had been forced North with the Xaela and the Raen of the Mountains. They told her their story, of Doma not being for Domans. Of being attacked years ago by invaders with metal and oil who took up residence across the big, shimmering gate. They had little to offer her but they knew her people were good. Suna drank her tea, bitter and green like everything else Doman she listened and nodded. Would it be alright, she asked, if she had her spear back? It would be returned to her, she was told, when she left. The spearmaiden shook her head. She would not leave, she replied and spoke of her role. She would help, for what little she could. She did not know much she admitted, but they were Domans and this was Doma but it was not theirs. The will of the spear was clear but it would not do as to suffer the indignity of not being with its maiden. The man took a measure of her as she ate another rice cake and nodded. The second she held her weapon she knew. The spear agreed and so they would fight for Doma. A new home.
- And then it was gone.
- Doma was gone. She didn’t know why, and she never asked. In the blink of an eye, it was gone. The order to flee out to sea had come just hours before and everyone ran to their vessels, the remnants of the Doman Navy and a rag tag collection of vessels procured from the Garleans were all that was left of the once proud land. They sailed for days, and Suna remembered very little of it. She remembered the cool sea breeze against the unforgiving sun, a man falling overboard and her jumping into the water to save him. She remembered hitting her head on something, and waking up just malms from the shores of Vyllbrand. She woke just in time to see the sun hit the white, wave-kissed stones of Limsa Lominsa and she remembered shielding her eyes from the brightness, a part of her afraid to be consumed by it. By this strange, new land.
New
- She parted with the Domans, thanking them for their aid. She would have never escaped the destruction of her old home had it not been for them. The spear would never have willed it, she thought. She would have stood her ground to the very end, a noble death to a spear and her maiden. And yet, she ran. From death, Othard, in many ways everything she believed in. An act of rebellion? Maybe. But she was too simple to think that way. She had violated something, and for a time she did not know what to do.
- She considered returning to her old ways, a lowly mountain guide. It seemed simple to her. Know the paths, learn the ways, survive as she always did. But Eorzea had very few mountains that required mountain guides. The large birds that trailed carriages knew the paths better than she could. Every step they took was calculated, like hers. Those without chocobos knew other mountain guides, leaving her with very little option but to become that noble profession for those with very little option. An adventurer.
- She travelled and saw and adventured, like she always wanted. She learned and watched the people of her new home - a decision that was disturbingly easy to make for her - go about their day. She felt free, almost unburdened. Othard was an ocean away, her little village tucked somewhere in obscurity. She liked the freedom in afforded to not have the gaze of others, not knowing what exactly a spearmaiden was, and yet she clung to her training and her beliefs even tighter. She felt a sense of self in being a spearmaiden, describing it to others and eschewing the identity of adventurer. She calmed herself with the mantra of her training. I am the spear. The spear is me. and for many days she travelled alone and for many of those nights, she looked up at the sky and wondered why it looked different. She would later decide that it wasn't the sky that was different, it was her.
- New Suna. It was a strange feeling. She wanted new things, as any new Suna would. She took up making, instead of destroying. The spear was a poor choice for making, so she took up the needle. She made clothes for others, though she kept her only yukata for herself and some select clothes for more unforgiving climates. She took up the saw, next, for the haft of her spear had grown worn. Then the hammer. Then the pan. She loved cooking, after all. She made things. Sometimes not well, but she made them anyway. The singular devotion to the spear helped much. She devoted much of her time to making, and she loved it. But she was always a spearmaiden, not a maker. For there was comfort, the stability of her youth nestled with it. She was the spear, after all. And the spear was Suna.
Miscellaneous
Some of these rumors are untrue or are greatly exaggerated. Please feel free to add your own rumors under PC! ◢ Common Rumors (Easily overheard)
◢ Moderate Rumors (Moderately difficult to overhear)
◢ Rare Rumors (Very difficult or rarely overheard)
◢ PC Rumors (Rumors from the character's of other players)
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