FFXIV/RP - Eon Reaver
Mar. 30th, 2016 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
squeaklingsThis is a (very beta) bio of my FFXIV character, Eon Reaver. For possible use in RP.
Eon (eh-ahn) Reaver
Age: 22 (at start of ARR)
Height: 5’7” (?)
Weight: 175lb
Physical description: Dark brown fur, red spikey hair with white highlights, one purple and one green eye. Medium build. Has a slight smattering of face fur along his chin.
Background
Decades before Ene’a’s birth, a young Tia and huntress of the S tribe fell in love. Discarding their tribe’s traditions in order to be together, the pair left along with a handful of other Seekers wanting to branch out on their own paths. Along the way they were joined by a small handful of Hyur, and some Keepers out looking for their own place in the world. Over time the small band became their own miss-matched “tribe,” and settled in a forest in one of the northern islands of Vylbrand in the Straight of Merlkhor.
S’aodre Tia and S’vahkli had a son, S’tora Tia. When he was halfway through his fifteenth year, a young Keeper of the Moon stumbled upon his tribe and decided she liked what she saw and would stay. S’tora and Ene Reaver became friends and then lovers by his eighteenth nameday, and have been together ever since.
Ene’a is the second child, but also the elder of a rare pair of twin males. In a compromise between their parents, they decided that, for their given names, the oldest child would be given the tribal S of their father, the second child would follow the traditional naming scheme of the Keepers, and any child thereafter would receive a name that did not have to conform to either convention. Thus, Syral, Ene’a, and Rhet. Much to Ene’s unspoken chagrin, her only daughter takes after S’tora, while their two sons are Keepers through-and-through.
Though his tribe is small, Ene’a had no shortage of peers to play with growing up. In fact, he had a relatively normal childhood. Living outside the cities, there was always the threat of monsters or dangerous creatures catching someone unawares, and of course pirates were par for the course. But that never stopped Ene’a or the other children from scampering around in the undergrowth, or seeing who could jump off the highest waterfall or get close enough to steal the dodo’s eggs from her nest. Really, everything was perfect in the tiny little corner of the island they called home.
That is, until the Calamity.
Forest he once knew like the back of his hand was gone, replaced with giant shards of corrupted crystal lodged amidst decimated flora. The familiar coastline now looked like the jagged maw of a voidsent monstrosity. Creatures were driven mad by the influx of aether, and beasts that once kept to themselves became outright hostile. Those who survived the Elder Primal’s wrath were all the worse for wear, and those who hadn’t survived… Llymlaen welcomed quite a few poor souls to her bosom that day.
The Calamity left lasting scars among both the land and the peoples of Eorzea. Ene’a and his tribe were no different. Though they did not have to leave the island, the home he had always known was no more. Where a small but robust hamlet once stood was a long, jagged cliff that descended to the angry ocean below.
His easy-going life was gone.
Once they buried the dead they could find, S’aodre informed the tribe they would have to move on and find a new home. Too sore and full of heartache, not even the normally contradictory Ene’a could voice dissent. The following weeks left him exhausted, with blistered feet and arms sore from carving paths through the thick undergrowth. Memories of the dead haunted his dreams, and he found himself staring up at the sky every night, terrified to find Menphina no longer nestled safely among the stars. He woke at dawn, unrested and irritable, and every day was the same as the last: cut through the thick undergrowth, scout for food, never let your guard down because the monsters were always watching.
His grandparents finally found a place for them farther inland than he’d ever travelled; a secluded patch of forest untainted by corrupted crystals, and nestled between a tall cliff to the south and a quick, branching river to the east. It was perfect, and for the first time in weeks Ene’a felt like he was home.
It was also, unfortunately, home to a pack of crazed coeurls.
The resulting fight was Ene’a’s first real taste of combat—his father had given him an axe to help clear paths during their travels, and it eventually found itself lodged in the neck of a coeurl lying dead at his feet. This affected him less than he thought it would, and he proved himself to be a rather adept fighter. He took to training with his axe, at first self-taught and then with the aid of an old friend of his grandfather who could no longer stand seeing Ene’a’s terrible form. It wasn’t easy, and the old Seeker threatened to toss Ene’a in the river and leave him at least two times a day, but eventually he found a place among the tribe’s protectors.
Life would have continued like that, had a tragedy of his own making not sent Ene’a away from home five years after the Calamity.
Despite the sobering effect of Dalamud’s fall, Ene’a never quite lost his penchant for playing tricks and making jokes and being generally irreverent. One would think a world-ending event would mature a person, but outside of his guard duties, he clung to his immaturity like a lifeline.
Which was how, days after heavy summer rains had swollen the river, he challenged his brother to a raft race. While slightly more mature than his older twin, Rhet had the same thrill-seeker attitude as his brother, and readily agreed.
The race was supposed to be simple. Follow the river two malms down to a tall rock formation called Zu Peak, dock their rafts and run back to the village. Though usually not so long, it was a common race amongst the younglings in the tribe. But the heavy rains had created dangerous currents, and halfway down the river Rhet lost his push pole and control of his raft. Before Ene’a could attempt to push his brother to shore, they turned a bend and Rhet’s raft collided with a fallen tree.
Knocked out from the impact, Rhet was thrown into the river and carried downstream, tossed about like a doll. Ene’a was able to rescue his brother from the water, but a large splinter of wood had lodged itself in Rhet’s lower back. The tribe’s chirurgeon saved his life, but the wound left Rhet unable to walk. Torn by guilt, and terrified that his brother hated him, Ene’a vowed to find a way to fully heal him, and left before his twin woke up.
Alone for the first time in his life, Ene’a found a small boat travelling from the tiny port that survived at the southern tip of the island. Lost in his guilt, he ignored the few other passengers and kept to himself, huddled down with his pack wrapped around the weathered axe his father gave him so long ago. He would have continued that way, lost to himself, had an overgrown megalodon not decided to bump the boat and send it rocking wildly. Coming out of himself at the sound of a scream, Ene’a looked up in time to see a young boy about to fall overboard.
Moving faster than he thought possible, Ene’a caught the boy’s shirt just as he went over, and hauled him back into the boat. And he realized, looking at the boy clinging to him and the mother weeping in relief beside him, that wallowing in pity served no purpose, and he could never redeem himself in his brother’s eyes if all he did was sulk and stand by when he could be doing something, when he could be helping others.
They reached Aleport a day later, and Ene’a bid farewell to his new friend, who continuously mispronounced his name as Eon. As he waited for the boat that would carry him to Limsa Lominsa, Ene’a came to a realization.
Ene’a was immature and childish. But Eon was a hero, if only in a mother and son’s eyes. If he could continue like that, if he could help right wrongs and save even one person, if he could travel the Realm and become better than he was now, Eon could be a true hero. And maybe, when he finally returned home, Ene’a would be one, too.
So when he took his seat on the small boat beside the two young Elezen twins, and an older Hyuran man asked who he was, the name Eon slipped easily off his tongue.
And his life as an adventurer began.
Personality
Eon is irreverent and a bit of an asshole, but has a good heart underneath it all. He is sociable but has difficulty showing his affection, and instead expresses his feelings through the various nicknames he gives to others. The only real exceptions to this are his family, whom he loves deeply but self-exiled himself from due to an accident he blames himself for, and the Scions (post banquet). He has a guilt complex, but he cannot stand self-pity.
Despite his best efforts he is still rather immature when it comes to interacting with people. He enjoys teasing and pranking others, but doesn’t take it well when they direct it back at him. His temper is hot and quick, and any residual anger from an argument he might have is usually gone by the end of the day.
His favorite hobbies are fishing and collecting interesting knickknacks. He also has a weird assortment of magicked items he has picked up in his travels, including but not limited to: a walking brick, a rock golem, and a floating orb that glows.
Hidden beneath his immaturity, he takes the role of hero very seriously, as he believes that’s the key to his redemption. If he can become a real hero, if he can save Hydaelyn and all those he cares about, then maybe his family will forgive him and his brother won’t hate him. It’s not a fear he has ever voiced out loud, but resides deep in his heart and drives him more than he is willing to admit.
So he jumps at all the menial tasks he is given, though at first he grumbled to himself when random people asked him to pick flowers or kill bugs or any slew of requests that were “beneath” a hero. But over time he came to enjoy these jobs, learning about the people and lands of Eorzea. And honestly, after all the feats he has accomplished, from felling Primals to being accused of regicide to trying to help end a 1000 year war, the menial tasks are welcome. There’s no threat of friends dying, or disappearing, or merging with the Mother Crystal and possibly ceasing to be who they once were.
Any tips or suggestions welcome. This is still a WIP.
Eon (eh-ahn) Reaver
Age: 22 (at start of ARR)
Height: 5’7” (?)
Weight: 175lb
Physical description: Dark brown fur, red spikey hair with white highlights, one purple and one green eye. Medium build. Has a slight smattering of face fur along his chin.
Background
Decades before Ene’a’s birth, a young Tia and huntress of the S tribe fell in love. Discarding their tribe’s traditions in order to be together, the pair left along with a handful of other Seekers wanting to branch out on their own paths. Along the way they were joined by a small handful of Hyur, and some Keepers out looking for their own place in the world. Over time the small band became their own miss-matched “tribe,” and settled in a forest in one of the northern islands of Vylbrand in the Straight of Merlkhor.
S’aodre Tia and S’vahkli had a son, S’tora Tia. When he was halfway through his fifteenth year, a young Keeper of the Moon stumbled upon his tribe and decided she liked what she saw and would stay. S’tora and Ene Reaver became friends and then lovers by his eighteenth nameday, and have been together ever since.
Ene’a is the second child, but also the elder of a rare pair of twin males. In a compromise between their parents, they decided that, for their given names, the oldest child would be given the tribal S of their father, the second child would follow the traditional naming scheme of the Keepers, and any child thereafter would receive a name that did not have to conform to either convention. Thus, Syral, Ene’a, and Rhet. Much to Ene’s unspoken chagrin, her only daughter takes after S’tora, while their two sons are Keepers through-and-through.
Though his tribe is small, Ene’a had no shortage of peers to play with growing up. In fact, he had a relatively normal childhood. Living outside the cities, there was always the threat of monsters or dangerous creatures catching someone unawares, and of course pirates were par for the course. But that never stopped Ene’a or the other children from scampering around in the undergrowth, or seeing who could jump off the highest waterfall or get close enough to steal the dodo’s eggs from her nest. Really, everything was perfect in the tiny little corner of the island they called home.
That is, until the Calamity.
Forest he once knew like the back of his hand was gone, replaced with giant shards of corrupted crystal lodged amidst decimated flora. The familiar coastline now looked like the jagged maw of a voidsent monstrosity. Creatures were driven mad by the influx of aether, and beasts that once kept to themselves became outright hostile. Those who survived the Elder Primal’s wrath were all the worse for wear, and those who hadn’t survived… Llymlaen welcomed quite a few poor souls to her bosom that day.
The Calamity left lasting scars among both the land and the peoples of Eorzea. Ene’a and his tribe were no different. Though they did not have to leave the island, the home he had always known was no more. Where a small but robust hamlet once stood was a long, jagged cliff that descended to the angry ocean below.
His easy-going life was gone.
Once they buried the dead they could find, S’aodre informed the tribe they would have to move on and find a new home. Too sore and full of heartache, not even the normally contradictory Ene’a could voice dissent. The following weeks left him exhausted, with blistered feet and arms sore from carving paths through the thick undergrowth. Memories of the dead haunted his dreams, and he found himself staring up at the sky every night, terrified to find Menphina no longer nestled safely among the stars. He woke at dawn, unrested and irritable, and every day was the same as the last: cut through the thick undergrowth, scout for food, never let your guard down because the monsters were always watching.
His grandparents finally found a place for them farther inland than he’d ever travelled; a secluded patch of forest untainted by corrupted crystals, and nestled between a tall cliff to the south and a quick, branching river to the east. It was perfect, and for the first time in weeks Ene’a felt like he was home.
It was also, unfortunately, home to a pack of crazed coeurls.
The resulting fight was Ene’a’s first real taste of combat—his father had given him an axe to help clear paths during their travels, and it eventually found itself lodged in the neck of a coeurl lying dead at his feet. This affected him less than he thought it would, and he proved himself to be a rather adept fighter. He took to training with his axe, at first self-taught and then with the aid of an old friend of his grandfather who could no longer stand seeing Ene’a’s terrible form. It wasn’t easy, and the old Seeker threatened to toss Ene’a in the river and leave him at least two times a day, but eventually he found a place among the tribe’s protectors.
Life would have continued like that, had a tragedy of his own making not sent Ene’a away from home five years after the Calamity.
Despite the sobering effect of Dalamud’s fall, Ene’a never quite lost his penchant for playing tricks and making jokes and being generally irreverent. One would think a world-ending event would mature a person, but outside of his guard duties, he clung to his immaturity like a lifeline.
Which was how, days after heavy summer rains had swollen the river, he challenged his brother to a raft race. While slightly more mature than his older twin, Rhet had the same thrill-seeker attitude as his brother, and readily agreed.
The race was supposed to be simple. Follow the river two malms down to a tall rock formation called Zu Peak, dock their rafts and run back to the village. Though usually not so long, it was a common race amongst the younglings in the tribe. But the heavy rains had created dangerous currents, and halfway down the river Rhet lost his push pole and control of his raft. Before Ene’a could attempt to push his brother to shore, they turned a bend and Rhet’s raft collided with a fallen tree.
Knocked out from the impact, Rhet was thrown into the river and carried downstream, tossed about like a doll. Ene’a was able to rescue his brother from the water, but a large splinter of wood had lodged itself in Rhet’s lower back. The tribe’s chirurgeon saved his life, but the wound left Rhet unable to walk. Torn by guilt, and terrified that his brother hated him, Ene’a vowed to find a way to fully heal him, and left before his twin woke up.
Alone for the first time in his life, Ene’a found a small boat travelling from the tiny port that survived at the southern tip of the island. Lost in his guilt, he ignored the few other passengers and kept to himself, huddled down with his pack wrapped around the weathered axe his father gave him so long ago. He would have continued that way, lost to himself, had an overgrown megalodon not decided to bump the boat and send it rocking wildly. Coming out of himself at the sound of a scream, Ene’a looked up in time to see a young boy about to fall overboard.
Moving faster than he thought possible, Ene’a caught the boy’s shirt just as he went over, and hauled him back into the boat. And he realized, looking at the boy clinging to him and the mother weeping in relief beside him, that wallowing in pity served no purpose, and he could never redeem himself in his brother’s eyes if all he did was sulk and stand by when he could be doing something, when he could be helping others.
They reached Aleport a day later, and Ene’a bid farewell to his new friend, who continuously mispronounced his name as Eon. As he waited for the boat that would carry him to Limsa Lominsa, Ene’a came to a realization.
Ene’a was immature and childish. But Eon was a hero, if only in a mother and son’s eyes. If he could continue like that, if he could help right wrongs and save even one person, if he could travel the Realm and become better than he was now, Eon could be a true hero. And maybe, when he finally returned home, Ene’a would be one, too.
So when he took his seat on the small boat beside the two young Elezen twins, and an older Hyuran man asked who he was, the name Eon slipped easily off his tongue.
And his life as an adventurer began.
Personality
Eon is irreverent and a bit of an asshole, but has a good heart underneath it all. He is sociable but has difficulty showing his affection, and instead expresses his feelings through the various nicknames he gives to others. The only real exceptions to this are his family, whom he loves deeply but self-exiled himself from due to an accident he blames himself for, and the Scions (post banquet). He has a guilt complex, but he cannot stand self-pity.
Despite his best efforts he is still rather immature when it comes to interacting with people. He enjoys teasing and pranking others, but doesn’t take it well when they direct it back at him. His temper is hot and quick, and any residual anger from an argument he might have is usually gone by the end of the day.
His favorite hobbies are fishing and collecting interesting knickknacks. He also has a weird assortment of magicked items he has picked up in his travels, including but not limited to: a walking brick, a rock golem, and a floating orb that glows.
Hidden beneath his immaturity, he takes the role of hero very seriously, as he believes that’s the key to his redemption. If he can become a real hero, if he can save Hydaelyn and all those he cares about, then maybe his family will forgive him and his brother won’t hate him. It’s not a fear he has ever voiced out loud, but resides deep in his heart and drives him more than he is willing to admit.
So he jumps at all the menial tasks he is given, though at first he grumbled to himself when random people asked him to pick flowers or kill bugs or any slew of requests that were “beneath” a hero. But over time he came to enjoy these jobs, learning about the people and lands of Eorzea. And honestly, after all the feats he has accomplished, from felling Primals to being accused of regicide to trying to help end a 1000 year war, the menial tasks are welcome. There’s no threat of friends dying, or disappearing, or merging with the Mother Crystal and possibly ceasing to be who they once were.
Any tips or suggestions welcome. This is still a WIP.
