Suren Oronir
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Suren is a man from the Oronir tribe who departed the Azim Steppe during Magnai the Elder's rule as khagan. Although he takes the characteristic pride of an Oronir from his father, his mother was a Qereli exile - one of the Taken who succumbed to the Will of Karash, the beast that lurks dormant within every fighter. During his early years, she raised him in isolation within the mountains, and trained him in the ways of the axe and the hunt, as well as tapping into the beastly will that had consumed her. Even since her son was born, she instilled in him shreds of the same power and insanity that sealed her own fate.
Later, he was sent off to grow up as a proper child of the Oronir, and his father accepted him out of remorse despite the tensions it created. Even though he possessed terrifying skill as a fighter, the violent impulses it hinged upon earned him the fear and ire of his tribesmen. Unlike his mother, he was closer to the true method of harnessing the inner beast, which was altogether unknown to the Qerel and the Steppe at large. However, he was aware of the danger he posed and took care to avoid situations that fully drew it out - hunting fiercer prey alone and failing to put forth his full strength in his tribe's own tournaments. This persisted until he eventually eloped with a woman of the Qalli tribe in a sequence of violent events that sealed his departure. From there on, the pair set out to travel the lands of Othard and Eorzea as adventurers: often together, often apart.
Standing seven fulms tall, Suren is a large and intimidating man with the bearing of a proud lord and the physique of a brute. He has the countenance of a steppe tiger, with stern features and golden eyes deep-set amidst dark, winding tattoos, and his messy dark brown hair is more often than not carelessly tied into a ponytail at the back. He has few qualms with ostentatious outfits, favoring bold red as much as the gold of the sun, and he holds a keen interest in the armorcraft of the foreign lands he now travels. When he is not wearing gloves, one may note his nails to be painted a golden hue, as expected of an Oronir, though they are usually trimmed short from their traditional claw-like elongation. His voice is deep and gravelly. Having been educated in the Common and Eastern tongues later in his childhood than most, he speaks them fluently, but with a thick accent.
Despite his conflicted history with his tribe itself, Suren holds the religious doctrine of the Oronir close to his heart, including the paternalistic ideal of watching over the rest of the Xaela. Although he might deny it, his attachment to this concept of duty predisposes him to guiding and protecting others, even in the foreign lands he might wander.
Like many of his kind, he is a proud warrior, at times arrogant and overbearing, and often forthright to the point of being caustic; however, his deep-rooted personal struggles have left him more guarded and practical than others of his tribe. He can come off as aloof around strangers, but hardly averse to social interaction; to those who approach him, he can pass as an ordinary young man with a harsh sense of humor and some disagreeable mannerisms. He gets irritated rather easily, particularly in an unfamiliar environment where nearly everything seems set out to confound his senses or slight his pride. On the other hand, since he knows the price of losing control, he is slow to actually anger. Having been raised in a society where might takes a high precedent, he takes great pride in his martial prowess, and is quick to respect it in others; however, he questions its automatic association with integrity and inner strength. After numerous tribal battles and Naadams, he is desensitized to the act of killing, but he still opposes the wasteful or pointless loss of life, and would quickly condemn those who prey on the weak and unprepared for death.
The "inner beast" that lurks within the hearts of men, while best known in Eorzea as a force mastered in savage martial traditions from a now-desolate Hellsguard village, has also arisen in variants among the brutish Xaela tribes of the Azim Steppe. The fierce warriors of the Qerel tribe see it as a deadly and uncontrollable force - the “will of Karash” - that dooms all who embrace it to exile. Suren’s mother, Sitai was one such vagrant, a formerly great hunter fallen from grace. While wandering, she met a man of the Oronir named Ochigin, and the two fell in love.
Hoping to gain a new home and leave her bloody past behind, she began to hope for a new start as his wife - until she mistakenly severed one of her lover’s hands in a fit of blood-rage. After he cast her out of the camp, she fled for the northern mountains, resorting to a solitary life of hunting and gathering; unbeknownst to either of them, she was with child. With all she had to do to survive, it was a miracle her son was born healthy. From a young age, she had him take up the axe and instructed him in her way of the warrior, teaching him to hunt and slay until it was second nature, and showing him to channel the cursed rage that had doomed her. This lonely life may have been Sitai's penance for her crimes, but her conscience tore at her with a single thought - that the young Suren deserved better. This conviction only grew stronger when the boy would ask of his father, of the reason for his birth, of the life she’d left behind, until eventually she could no longer mask it with indignance. Under the cover of night, at the age of twelve, he was brought to the Oronir. In the intervening years, Ochigin had devoted his efforts to rebuilding his life, marrying a woman of the Kha into the tribe and siring a son with her. He had every rational reason to reject Sitai’s bastard offspring, but he could not bear to forsake Suren. His wife, being a lover of the bizarre, didn’t object, and his four-year-old warmed to his new familial brother quickly. His choice seemed sound until word came that his bastard son had broken another child’s arm against the rules of a tournament. Under the circumstances given, defending Suren from certain exile or death tried every ounce of his patience and forgiveness. From that day on, Ochigin committed himself fully to his moral education. He taught him of the tribe’s religious doctrine and his responsibility to conduct himself justly beneath His light. Through this, he learned of the twisted upbringing the boy had been subject to, and how the beast clouded his young mind with hatred and violence. Fortunately, Suren took his father’s words and guidance to heart growing up: he would master the Will of Karash, and he would do so without losing himself and bringing harm to those who stood as his allies. Of course, his very existence was a stain upon his family’s honor, and his reputation as a bloodthirsty lunatic could never quite be erased. What his efforts did earn him was a continued life within the tribe, and beyond that, he was resigned to life as an outcast. Often, he would wander the Steppe and hunt great beasts on his own. It reminded him of the past and gave him solace, while also granting him an outlet to unleash the beast - so as to work toward mastering it - with few consequences to fear. Members of rival tribes who dared ambush him in such a state met brutal ends, and within the Oronir, some told tales of a gleaming, red-eyed beast that stalked the wilderness clad in their colors. Ever since he came of age to turn his gaze to the bloody rite of the Naadam, he entered the brotherly tournaments with a specific strategy: he would overcome enough weak opponents to secure his participation, but fail to put forth his full strength against more worthy matches, so as to avoid invoking the Will against a comrade. However, once upon the sacred soil, he would unleash the full extent of his rage upon the other tribes who vied for the ovoo, and regardless of victory or defeat, each time he would return to his own with the yellow of his robe drenched in blood. Later in his life, he heard rumors of carnage in the north, livestock being slaughtered and beastmasters' corpses left mangled: a menace that emerged from the mountains to kill indiscriminately. Such an incident was common enough that his tribe had little stake in it, but desiring a challenge, he sought the beast responsible - and recognized it as his mother, fully consumed by the Will. The very sight of her - resplendent in blood and fury, having embraced everything he’d devoted his life to rejecting after she cursed him with it all - sent him into a rage, and he gripped his axe and leapt at her. The brief fight that ensued left him wounded on the ground, bested to the point of humiliation, left to lick his wounds as she walked away and meditate upon the distance between them in mastery. From there on, he plunged himself deeper into his training. Quelling the menace became a duty to him - an ultimate goal, a way to prove his strength. In his dreams, the beast took hold of him more strongly, its primal desire for indiscriminate violence clear, but he held true to his convictions in the waking world as he steeled himself day by day to gain the strength to seek her out again. Years after his initial encounter, their final confrontation tested his mastery of the beast in full, calling forth all his brutality, passion, and restraint. It was a hard-fought triumph, and at the end he proved himself stronger, worthy of wielding the inhuman power that had been her downfall. Or so he thought. Looking upon his kill, her body appeared rent by countless claws and fangs; it seemed she had worn herself out in a long string of fierce battles before she finally fell. The glorious victory he had devoted his life to had been denied of him. The sight left him slighted, betrayed, and ultimately crushed. Whether he despaired over losing his mother, or losing the chance to kill the monster he had trained years upon years to vanquish, he was never quite sure. He contemplated burning her body, but being denied a proper burial, left in the wilderness to decay in indignity and serve as food for wandering beasts, was surely the end Sitai would have wanted. She lived and died as a monster - beyond the shackles and emotions of mankind, feared and hated, wild and free. Bit by bit, it all caught up with him. He had done little to redeem himself, and his reputation within the tribe had been marred ever further by this obsession. He questioned everything - the ways of the tribe, the meaning of strength, his purpose, his place amongst the few he could still call his family and friends. Deep within, his one comfort was that he had not become like her. He had seen the abyss, chased it, contended with it - and no matter what, he would not succumb to it. From that conviction, he would rebuild his pride. Some time passed, in which he still counted himself a warrior of the Oronir, despite the scorn of others. The victory at the Naadam earned them the Dawn Throne and dominion over the rest. It was soon after that when Magnai the Elder issued his infamous decree calling the people of the Steppe to present the most beautiful women of their tribes, resulting in many groups making the trip to the Dawn Throne. Though the affair was a fruitless source of ridicule for the khan himself, many of his brothers sought to make something out of it. For Suren, this odd set of circumstances led to a fateful encounter with a woman of the Qalli by the name of Narin. Her family had made the bizarre choice to raise her in seclusion, educating her in the tribe’s tradition of song, as well as a wealth of history and languages both native and foreign, while training her for the life of a learned udgan - which she lacked talent for, preferring to practice her aim with a bow in seclusion. Now, upon the true majesty of the Steppe, she sought to gain more experience in hunting real prey, and he agreed to accompany her. During her time there, they quickly grew close. Narin’s singing voice seemed to calm him and quell the influence of anger within like nothing else did, and soon she trusted him enough to tell him of her ambition: to leave the Steppe and travel the distant lands she’d only heard tales of, to discover new traditions of song while spreading her own to the four corners of the star. Feeling stifled and burnt-out from his life within the tribe, and seeing her as his destined match, Suren decided that they would go together. Their departure was not as smooth as either had hoped. Her father, who had accompanied her, had already arranged for her marriage to an Oronir who professed to have fallen for her and glimpsed Nhaama in her eyes - and both objected to her consorting with Suren. They sought to fly away unnoticed, but the two of them intercepted the pair - and in the desperate struggle that ensued, Suren channeled the beast and killed both. From that point on, their flight was a somber one. His yol was shot down in a test of Garlean machinery toward the coast of Yanxia, close to the fishing village of Isari. The locals were loath to house them for fear of consequences, so they eked out their survival through hunting and what little adventuring work could be found. Despite the deep rift her father’s death had driven between the pair, their relationship was slowly mended, partly due to the adversities they faced together. Through this time they bore full witness to the influence of the Empire - a giant so twisted in its strange concepts of dominion, so foreign to the ways of the Xaela and perverse to his ideals, that he could only think of it as a nemesis. Once they were able to secure passage across the Ruby Sea, they were able to begin the journey she desired, but in the months to come, fate brought the pair wind of the discontent brewing beneath Garlemald’s yoke. Perhaps it was divine irony that when Suren returned to Othard to aid in the rebellion, he was fighting alongside his tribal brothers once more - albeit not with them high in the sky, but rather upon the ground as a force of tempestuous rage that brought death to countless steel-clad foes. After their travels brought them to Eorzea, Narin sought to study archery and bardic tradition in Gridania. The elementals did not smile upon Suren as well as they did her, and wanting for purpose, his gaze was soon turned toward what causes he might still lend his might to...
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