Love Interest: Râzevi Tia, Kâthalen Tia (Former), Sâtage Tia (Former, Deceased)
Tribe Nunh: Vahli Nunh
Orientation: Bisexual
Jobs/Professions: Samurai/Ninja
Personality: S'era is a sweetheart. She is incredibly friendly to just about everyone she meets, making it remarkably easy for her to make friends. But despite her cheerful disposition and overly welcoming presence, she has bouts of anger that can rise from the slightest provocation. S'era has adopted and integrated many social customs and queues from civilized society, but deep down she is still a wild tribal savage at heart. The angrier she gets, the more of this side of her cones out. Fiercely loyal to her friends and loved ones, S'era will often justify her morally ambiguous decisions with her warped sense of justice. I'm addition she wears her heart on her sleeve, and therefore cannot conceal her emotions to save her life.
Mannerisms: Eorzean is her second language. Her mother tongue, Huntspeak, is simple and direct, and these habits have carried over. As a result she is painfully blunt and tactless. She will often hum while she's thinking, a psychological tick she developed at an early age.
Strengths: S'era is smarter than she appears. She is quick to learn, mastering techniques in weeks that would normally take moons; she has a talent for adaptation in combat. Despite her allegedly terrible grasp of magicka, she can manipulate aether in the form of fire, frost, and lightning quite easily, and will often imbue her katana with such enchantments to devastating effect. She is quick to rush to the defense of her friends and can sympathize with people easily.
Weaknesses: S'era is stubborn, emotional, ill-tempered, and reckless -- a lethal combination. She will avoid doing anything she doesnât want to do at all costs, which often results in her putting more effort into getting out of doing something than she would by simply doing it. She is also quite selfish, for the most part, with no real sense of moderation or restraint. Coupled with how fluctuating her emotions can be, Sâera remains susceptible to provocation, and she allows her feelings to guide her decisions far too often. More than once her rash choices have put herself and others in terrible danger. With her talents learning the katana comes her ego, and deep down she believes herself to be Hadriel Isenhartâs greatest student.
Reason for Playing: She is my first character in FF14 (That I kept) and is one of my all time favorites. Personality wise she is a mix between my old World of Warcraft characters, mainly my priestess Syrahn and paladin Tyrasam, with an extra layer of horniness appropriate to my personal headcanon of Miqoâte culture. I enjoy writing erotica for those who havenât noticed the trending theme in most of my writings from her perspective, and she provides the perfect vehicle for that. The black hair, pale blue eyes, and temper are based off my original main protagonist in a story I may never finish. Her main conflict trying to protect her tribe is ripped straight out of that same story. Iâd like to say I chose a catgirl because of the lore potential and unique setting, but really it was because theyâre cute.Â
Other Notes: I donât really do Face Claims anymore, as you can only really choose actors with plenty of pictures and gifs about them (plus face claiming random people is a little weird). So instead I choose different types of music. For Sâera, Norwegian folk suits her the best.
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Coroh preferred sleeping outside. Safely tucked beneath the warm blanket of leaves and stars, surrounded by the chorus of fluttering insects, and shrouded in the dying darkness. There was no other feeling quite like it. Betwixt coat and hammock she fought a losing battle against sleep. Her pale purple eyes mimicked the smoldering light of their campfire; flickering, weak, and feeble. She was in dire need of a bath, her body ached from the scabs and scrapes she earned by crawling through the thorny underbrush, and her stomach growled for food she couldnât hope to find until first light, but at least she was safe. Kâthalen and his merry band of misfits, marauders, and murderers saw to that. But this safety would not last. It never does.
She was so exhausted from constantly being on the move. These bandits couldnât afford to sit tight in one place for longer than a few days, lest the law finally catch up to them. They traversed the wooden sea of the Black Shroud for moons, braved the sandswept wastes of Thanalan, hitched rides on ships to navigate the coasts of La Noscea, even went as far north to Coerthas when things got too heated in their homelands. Ambushing trade caravans was dangerous work â any one of them could be trojan horses for law enforcement, or worse. Theyâve encountered adventurers eager to collect the bounties on their heads more than a few times, and although they were able to kill them or escape, the motley band became fewer in number every time. Now it was just seven men and one woman, and the next counter-ambush could easily be their last.
While not officially recognized lore by Square Enix by any stretch of the imagination, this is my personal headcanon and what I use when addressing Sâera Rarkuâs own sect of the Zu Tribe.
The Elders
The true leaders of the tribe. The Elders are the direct connection between the Miqo'te and the Goddess Azeyma, and serve as the religious pillar of the tribe. With the blessing of the Goddess herself, their word is not only law, but must be obeyed without question. They are responsible for the spiritual well being of their people, declaring the new Nuhn when a Tia is victorious in the duel, communing with the Goddess to carry out her will, and passing judgment on anyone who defies them. Offending or attacking an Elder is akin to spitting in the face of Azeyma; they must be treated with the utmost respect at all times. Only a Matron can ascend to this rank, and only if they are chosen by the Elders themselves.
The Nunh
The Nunh is the breeding male and the face of the tribe. He commands his harem of wives and is the last line of defense against invaders. Unofficially the leader of the tribe, he decides when and where the tribe migrates during the Summer Hunts (however the Elders may override his decision at any time for any reason). They can be challenged to a duel by Tia and must defend their title; a Nunh may refuse a challenger, but any sign of weakness may provoke banishment by the Elders. Ultimately they need to sire as many children as quickly as possible so their lineage may continue. Most Nunhs only live a few years before they are defeated. Only the strongest or most cunning Tia are capable of becoming a Nunh.
The Favored Wife
The main wife of the Nunh and alpha of his harem. A coveted and closely guarded title, she receives the most attention from the Nunh and is treated far better than the other wives. They get to eat first from every successful hunt, get first pick of any valuables claimed by the tribe, and hold power and authority over the other wives. Only the Nunh can decide who is the Favored Wife, and as a result, the competition for this title usually begins and ends in the bedroom.
The Matron
The end goal for every wife. A Matron is responsible for maintaining order within the tribe, deciding when a daughter is ready to be recognized as an adult, and deciding what role they will fall into: a warrior, a huntress, or a wife. In accordance with Azeyma's station among the pantheon, a wife is required to give birth to three daughters before they are eligible to ascend to the Matron stage. Unsurprisingly most Matrons are older women.
The Tribewives
The community pillar of the tribe, the tasks of the wives as important as they are numerous. They are responsible for pleasing their Nunh, birthing three daughters as quickly as possible, preparing the food from a hunt, raising their children, keeping the tribe grounds clean and tidy, patching up their Nunh after every duel, passing down the stories and songs to the next generation, and instilling virtues and wisdom in their daughters. If the tribe practices slavery, they are mainly responsible for easing the great burden on the tribewives' shoulders. The tribewives are also responsible for passing down the stories of old, as most tribes do not use a written language of any kind.
The Warriors
Savage, ruthless, fearless. The warrior women are devoted to keeping the tribe safe, and represent the martial pillar. They roam the territory and ambush unsuspecting trespassers, perform raids on trade caravans, and coordinate the resistance of an invading force. Usually they will capture or kill any outsider they come across, and bring anything of value back to the matrons. Proud and ferocious, the warriors often ritually scar themselves in addition to tattoos and body paint.
The Huntresses
These hunter-gatherers are solely responsible for keeping the tribe fed. They will routinely conduct Great Hunts where they will go forth, sometimes beyond their own territory, in pursuit of large and often dangerous animals. They will assist the warriors in times of conflict, serving as scouts in warfare and sentries outside of direct battles. Each huntress must be cunning and swift, and in peak physical condition; persistence hunting is a popular tactic in catching prey, and is used by most tribes throughout Eorzea.
The Tia Keeper
A rare responsibility given to infertile women, retired and shamed warriors, or even to malformed adult Tia too weak or frail to leave the tribe. They are tasked with raising the Tia, so they can one day leave the tribe and become Nunhs of their own. There is no glory, prestige, or even respect given to the Tia Keeper, and they are all too often ill-suited for raising rowdy boys. As a result, few tribes entertain the idea of a single person raising them; for most tribes Tia are simply kept in the background and raised by their fathers until the Nunh is defeated, where they are subsequently released into the wilderness, regardless of their age.
The Kittens (Daughters)
The lifeblood of any Miqoâte tribe, and their most valuable resource. All daughters are fed alongside the Nunh and Favored Wife, fiercely protected by every adult in the tribe, and carefully guarded by their mothers and the Nunh himself. At their tenth summer a ceremony is held to celebrate their place in the tribe, and to be given a role by the Matron; due to the specific dynamic of new Nunhs and his harem, the young girls are born in waves with their birthdays typically clustered within a moon or two, making ceremonies easier to manage. If they are assigned to the Warrior caste, they are expected to begin training with various weapons every single day until theyâre old enough to officially join them. If they are to be Huntresses, they are taken out into the wilderness with their aunts to learn the ways of the wild. If they are chosen to be wives, it is customary for the tribewives to teach them how to properly wash and repair clothing, set up and tear down tents, forage for edible nuts and berries, and take care of younger siblings.
The Tia
Easily the most neglected and irrelevant group of any tribe. The purpose of a Tia is to one day leave and become Nunhs themselves, or die trying, so their value and importance to their home tribe is virtually worthless. They do not count towards a wifeâs journey to become Matrons, so they are treated as a waste of a painful birth. Showing them love and affection can only soften them for their perilous duty, so their mothers are not only expected to dislike them once theyâre too old to be breastfed, but actively encouraged to do so. Only the Nunh will show them any sort of affection, and only their blood-related fathers. This hostile and often abusive way of life brings a whole host of psychological problems, creating emotionally deadened children expected to become coldblooded and ruthless killers. Most Tia never make it to their fifteenth summer, either dying out in the wilderness from all sorts of dangers, or dying at the hands of the Nunh they challenged. Coincidentally, Tia out in the wild will form groups called clowders to increase their chances of survival; roving clowders are hierarchical in nature, mimicking the fundamental structures of the tribes they left behind. A Tiaâs life is suffering, with only a handful ever escaping the violent cycle of their peopleâs traditions.
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Height: 37 ilms
Weight: 48 ponze
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown
Birthplace: Kabu-kabu Keep, South Sea Isles
Parents: ???
Love Interest: None
Orientation: Heterosexual
Jobs/Professions: Paladin
Personality: Zoronado has spent a lifetime training proper etiquette when addressing others. Well disciplined and mild-mannered, this particular spud is devoted to treating others with the utmost respect. But at the end of the day he is still a teenager, and his playful and joyful nature can burst out when he thinks no one is watching. He has a strict moral code: no drinking, no smoking, no drugs of any kind, and no intimacy. As a result he is in the best shape of his life, long before he even reaches his prime years. He is kind to his friends and even cordial with his foes, with the deep rooted belief that even his opponents deserve respect and to be treated with dignity. Honor is what he strives for every day of his life, and he will be deep in the cold ground before he breaks his holy creed.
Mannerisms: He is hard-wired to give everyone he meets their proper titles. Milady is reserved only for his Queen, but he will still address the other women in his life with Ms. and Mrs.. As a knight, he will address his fellow men as Sir, even if they havenât been anointed in the presence of the Twelve like he was. He speaks calmly and concisely, and will never raise his voice outside of combat.
Strengths: Zoronado is a walking tank in his heavy Bulwark carapace, a near-invincible popoto titan that can shrug off injuries that would mortally wound lesser men. He is a master of many weapons: the claymore, the broadsword, the battle-axe, the scimitar, the mace, the flail, and the lance. But his favorite go-to weapons are his trusty shortsword and heavy shield. He is a glutton for punishment â preferring to take the hits to protect everyone else. Not a masochist by any stretch of the imagination, but certainly willing to lay in a hospital bed if it means someone else didnât have to. Furthermore, as a Lalafell, he can recover from wounds much faster than the other races, and willingly abuses his healing properties.
Weaknesses: He is young and far too trusting. His kindness can be taken advantage of by those he considers his friends, and he can be manipulated rather easily by the women in his social circle; he has never faced a female opponent before, which will be one of the hardest challenges of his life. He is bound by his creed to never bring harm to a woman, to protect the innocent, to serve his queen. But what happens when a woman kills innocent people? What if his queen commands him to kill a woman? What if innocent people try harming his queen? These are all questions heâs struggled with in the late bells of the night, and heâs terrified of what heâll be forced to do if such a terrible choice falls upon his head. He is strong and powerful in his armor, but painfully slow â easily outmaneuvered by quick foes, who can tire him out long before he can reach them. He is also susceptible to magick; his armor can deflect physical blows with ease, but frost and lightning spells can whittle him down quickly.
Reason for Playing: I wanted to make a spud thatâs a little different than what Iâve normally seen. Most of his lore and backstory is pure headcanon, but I think it doesnât take away from anything already established by Square Enix. He is loosely (and I mean very loosely) based on the Kingsguard in Game of Thrones, particularly a young Jaime Lannister. Minus the whole⌠incest part. I was turned off from the idea of playing Lalafell for the longest time, just as I was with Gnomes in World of Warcraft. It was hard to take them seriously from the get-go, and half of the people playing them seemed to just be exceptionally weird. But it was either try a Lalafell or try a Hrothgar. Hard pass.
Other Notes: His music is more or less just instrumental, but he doesnât really have a specific genre like my other characters. Iâm sure Iâll develop it eventually.
Main Theme: Vox Vulgaris - La Suite Meurtriere
Sample Playlist: Ludovico Einaudi - Elements, Egor Grushin - Sparkle, RĂşnfell - Visund, Guilhem Desq - Cicatrices
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Coroh looked around to make sure no one else could be listening in on their conversation. "Um..." She started, blushing. "I really like... romance novels. The steamier the better... I um... I find them very entertaining. B-but I'm too ashamed to talk about them to anyone else, so please keep this between us, okay? If Osric learned I'm a pervert... I would crawl under the couch downstairs and die!"
Thalen scratched at the scruff on his neck and chin, before leaning forward to speak in a hushed tone. "Fuckin' cactuar. There's just somethin' about 'em that makes my tail bristle. Are they plants? Are they animals? What the fuck am I lookin' at here? And the way they move... tip-toein' through the dust..." A shiver ran up his spine. "Stumbled upon 'em more than once when I was out here all alone as a kid. So many needles in my skin I swore I could've bled to death. So now I blast every one a 'em bastards I find, aye? Fuck cacti, n'fuck cactuar!"
The best way to handle it is to let it run its course. Trying to force your way through the block is like trying to unclog a pipe by trying to push your fist through it -- itâll work eventually, but all the extra work is going to burn you out pretty easily. I usually step back from the project and just think about what I would want to write about. Daydreaming about it during work is one of my more common practices. And by the time I get home the block is gone.Â
Sometimes Iâll have to scrap the whole thing and start over, but as long as Iâm still writing, it usually comes out better than I originally planned.
Age: 24
Sex: Female
Height: 59 ilms
Weight: 137 ponze
Eyes: Amethyst
Hair: Pastel Blue
Birthplace: Quarrymill, Black Shroud
Parents: Rissoâa Khoga (Father), Dazoh Veldha (Mother), Sahboh Velda (Sister), Liroh Veldha (Sister), Jalroh Veldha (Sister), Musroh Veldha (Sister), Qaroh Veldha (Sister)
Love Interest: Kâthalen Tia (Aspiring), Osric Slater (Aspiring)
Orientation: Heterosexual
Jobs/Professions: Culinarian
Personality: A sheltered life under the thick canopy of the Black Shroud has left her emotionally stunted, causing her to behave a lot younger than she actually is. Coroh is naive, craves validation incessantly, and she lets her emotions dictate her actions above all else. She is kind to strangers and sweet on her friends, and will go out of her way to help them whenever and however she can; anything from comforting words to a hot plate of good food. She doesnât have many friends to begin with, leading her to clinging to the ones sheâs managed to find and keep, and she falls in love hard for people she barely knows. Emotional and passionate, Coroh yearns to love and be loved, but as an immature virgin, her romantic life has been desolate at best. Â
Mannerisms: Despite being a Miqoâte, Huntspeak is actually her second language, not her first. She was raised learning Eorzean, and as such she can barely hold a conversation in her peopleâs mother tongue. When she becomes nervous or flustered, her stutter bites down on her lips, and she simply canât help herself.
Strengths: She is always there for her friends. Her love for cooking is her one true passion, and she wonât hesitate to share her creations with anyone willing to take a bite; the validation she gets when people are excited about her food is a rush she may never get used to. Beyond that her giving nature knows no bounds, and despite her awkwardness, she loves meeting new people.
Weaknesses: Coroh suffers from Imposter Syndrome, depression, and anxiety. Combined with a weak heart and high blood pressure and itâs only a matter of time before she suffers her first heart attack. She is selfish with her desires, striving to find a man who will love her as passionately as she does, leading her to coming on too strong for the men she fancies. The lack of a proper father figure has developed many issues as well, including her undying need for male validation. Coroh also falls in love far too easily, even with people she doesnât truly know.
Reason for Playing: Coroh is my second catgirl and the muse that closely represents myself when I was still a teenager. Awkward, nervous, and becoming infatuated with anyone of the opposite sex that looks at her for longer than a second are all things I struggled with when I was a kid, so her desperate attempts to get Osric to notice her hits really close to home. Iâm not going to lie, it hurts seeing her flail about helplessly, but the IC drama is worth opening up those old wounds.
Other Notes: Her music is consistently more obscure than my other characters. Itâs heavy on the piano and female vocalists, with an emphasis on beautiful sounds rather than any deep message in any of the songs.
Main Theme: CLANN - Once Again
Sample Playlist: Misha Mishenko - Forest in my Head, Purity Ring - Stillness in Woe, Florian Christl - Inspiration, Thierry Zaboitzeff - PromĂŠthĂŠe Part 1a
Age: 44
Sex: Female
Height: 59 ilms
Weight: 110 ponze
Eyes: Green with Lime Limbal Rings
Hair: Nophica Green
Birthplace: Kokoro Village, Far Eastern Othard
Family: Hidekore Daisho (Father, Deceased), Kana Daisho (Mother, Deceased), Kiyohiro Kusakari (Son, Deceased), Kazenari Kusakari (Son, Deceased), Matoko Kusakari (Daughter, Deceased), Takaatsu Kusakari (Husband, Missing)
Love Interest: Takaatsu Kusakari (Missing)
Orientation: Heterosexual
Jobs/Professions: White Mage/Alchemist
Personality: Mizuna has certainly mellowed out over the years, but she was never too energetic to begin with. Time has taught her patience, and it takes quite a bit of work to get her furious. She unintentionally treats her younger colleagues as if she was their mother; she is gentle yet firm with most of them, but lacks the mental stamina to keep up with her more energetic friends and coworkers. This has led to her overstepping her authority on several occasions. Furthermore her playful demeanor can rise out from her exterior every now and then too, coupled with her terribly dry sense of humor, and Mizuna is almost always apologizing for an obscure joke sheâs made. She has a soft spot for all children â simply seeing them kicks her motherly instincts into overdrive.
Mannerisms: She comes from a place and era where women were seen, not heard. Mizuna is soft spoken, gentle, and quiet. Ten summers spent dealing and trading with merchants up and down Eorzea has completely erased her foreign accent, but the back-handed compliments and veiled rudeness of the women she grew up with still remains.
Strengths: The strength of her resolve is unquestionable. Despite the crushing grief of losing all three of her children and her husband running off, she remains steadfast in her capacity to do her job properly. She carries a great and terrible burden with grace and humility, and will almost always set her needs aside for others. While not a fighter by any means, she retains the few lessons sheâs learned from her late father, and can wield a katana as a last resort; however her true talent comes from white magicka, with her grasp leaning startlingly close to mastery.
Weaknesses: She has compartmentalized her trauma and buried it deep. As a result, she has a terrible time showing her emotions in a healthy way. The mask she wears around her coworkers has a tendency to crumble if sheâs pushed enough, and she has a bit of a temper to boot. Mizuna is a bitter Auri as well, subconsciously envying the younger, more lively, and more shapely women in her company. Deep down she yearns for her youthful days again, and with her menopause just around the corner, the window for her to try for another child is almost closed. She also detests all Xaela. Clan Dotharl in particular is responsible for the countless attacks on her village in her youth, and for the brutal slaughter of her two sons and daughter.
Reason for Playing: I wanted to play a dragongirl but wanted to avoid the cliched âyoung and beautifulâ Auri just about everyone else plays. Mizuna is a kind-hearted but cranky old crone, and with that comes its own set of challenges. She tends to be the character Iâm on when Iâm arguing (in character of course) with others, and itâs the little things like those instances that I enjoy. IC drama and conflict doesnât always have to be life or death situations. Sometimes simply having two incompatible personalities creating static and friction between them is more than enough for me. Mizuna isnât really based on anything or anyone, but her first name comes from my saiyan warrior from Dragonball Xenoverse. Itâs also a mere coincidence that her first and last names are leaf related and she has a green aesthetic.
Other Notes: Music soothes the soul. Her genre is mostly all things traditionally oriental, from Japanese, to Chinese, to anything in between.
Main Theme: Kokia - Fukurou
Sample Playlist: Ikue Asazaki - Obokuri-Eeumi, Akiko Kanazawa - Tsugaru Ohara Bushi, Shinn-ichi Kino-shita â-SHI-BU-KI-â, Yoshida Brothers - Sprouting
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Age: 26
Sex: Male
Height: 71 ilms
Weight: 159 ponze
Eyes: Yellow
Hair: Black / Orange
Birthplace: Whispering Woods, Black Shroud
Family: Kârehr Nunh (Father, Deceased), Kâsarim Zelu (Mother), Kânolas Tia (Brother, Deceased)
Love Interest: Edalene Slater, Sâera Rarku (Former), Ylda Khaat (Former, Deceased)
Orientation: Heterosexual
Jobs/Professions: Bard/Machinist
Personality: Thalen holds a lot of hatred in his heart for cowards and lowlifes, and reserves a special place just for betrayers. His misfortune upbringing skewered his view of the world, and although he often means well, he does more harm than good. Despite all of this, he remains a very easy-going and (mostly) carefree individual, as long as he has a drink in his hand. His crass attitude knows no limits, and he will often give his unsolicited advice if he thinks he can help someone. What Thalen truly needs is therapy, but being as stubborn as he is, it is unlikely he will ever receive it; if his friends and acquaintances donât kill him, his liver probably will. He puts on a hard exterior to protect his aching heart, finding it easier to push people away than to risk getting hurt again. Thalen was sexually abused by the adults in his life when he was still just a boy, which has permanently crippled his ability to maintain long lasting intimate relationships.
Mannerisms: Eorzean is his second language, but instead of learning from a competent teacher, he picked up on it by listening to the bandits he lived with. His accent comes from Thalanan highwaymen, but he can speak clearly and concisely when using Huntspeak.
Strengths: Thalenâs aim is unrivaled. Even if he is awoken in a half-drunken stupor he can still outshoot half of the realm. Thousands upon thousands of bells have been spent mastering his quickdraw, and although he boasts loudly and often, he probably is one of the best shots in Hydaelyn. However he rarely uses a sniper rifle, instead preferring to use his trusty revolver for most of his battles. He can also sense aether, allowing him to detect hidden â or even invisible â foes and actively predict and outmaneuver them in close-quarters.
Weaknesses: He is a slave to his vices. Sex, alcohol â typically both at the same time, are used to help distract himself from his own grief. His addiction is so bad that his body goes through harsh withdrawals mere bells without a drink. Beyond that he suffers from Imposter Syndrome, and he is his own worst critic. His passionate fervor to undo his wrongs has led to some tragic outcomes, and he hates himself for it. Furthermore he thinks himself a coward, and has nearly taken his own life on several occasions whenever he reaches his lowest breaking point.
Reason for Playing: Thalen is my boy, and for the longest time, my only male character. Easily my most broken and troubled character, he is loosely based on my World of Warcraft hunter Ijiro, as well as an exaggerated personification of myself; minus the vices. His anger comes from a place of familiarity, as does his views on intimate relationships. Heâs a catboi because hyur canât grow beards (though a catboi with a long grey beard sounds awesome). I play him whenever Iâm in the mood for ERP, or in need of some depresso in my expresso.
Other Notes: I donât care much for Face Claims these days, so I use music instead. A lot of country goes into writing for Thalen, specifically Cowboy/Western Country.
Main Theme: The Dead South - Spaghetti
Sample Playlist: The Steeldrivers - Good Corn Liquor, Ghoultown - Drink with the Living Dead, Colter Wall - Sleeping on the Blacktop
Memories and Reveries Pt 2: Bulwark of Leleni Leni
"Vigilance! Diligence! Violence! These are the three pillars that make up the foundation of our order! Of our creed!" Guard Captain Totopeko shouted with a commanding bellow that carried through the great stone keep. The old Lalafell turned on his heel with his gauntlet clutching his ivory and crimson cloak, and he began pacing in the opposite direction until he reached the end of the knights. "When you came to us⌠you were nothing! No one! Bastards and thieves! Bandits and pirates! Criminals and craven alike! With sharpened steel and hardened resolve you are here today. Lives reshaped for the glory of the Gilded Court!"
Zoronado was not a bastard, but he didnât know his parents. He was not a thief nor a bandit, such petty monetary gain was beneath him. Nor a pirate, the worst scum Hydaelyn had to offer; he has committed no crimes and has never shown cowardice -- not once in all his years. Yet he stood tall and proud beside his brothers-in-arms all the same, eagerly awaiting the good news. Sweat glistened on his brow under the hot sunlight streaking through the painted glass ceiling, with beads rolling down his temples. He had been in uniform since before sunrise, carrying his bulky shield all day; but after a decade and a half of grueling practice and perseverance, his hard work was about to pay off.
"You were all called here for a reason!" Shouted the Guard Captain. âFive of the Bulwarkâs finest! Let your deeds from this day forth bear testament to the strength of the Lalafell! Brothers in arms! Brothers in death!â
âAAAOOO! AAAOOO! AAAOOO!â They all shouted in unison, slamming their shields against the floor to fill the keep with their thunderous rhythm. Even Totopeko joined in, smashing his fist against his breastplate. It didnât take long for their excitement to reach a fever pitch, increasing their tempo with vigorous fervor. They grew so loud and rowdy that they didnât notice the main entrance swing wide open for the daughter of their sole benefactor. Leleni Leni blinked at how rowdy her men were behaving, but she didnât seem to mind. Her father, however, would be less than pleased if he heard about this.
âMAIDEN ON DECK!â Totopeko barked at the top of his lungs! Immediately he and the five knights dropped to kneel like they all were kicked in the back of the knee at the same time, and after the echo of their plated knees striking the stone floor made its final bounce against the walls, the keep was as silent as a grave. Leleni nervously cleared her throat as she began to walk, her handmaidens briskly keeping pace while keeping the ends of her gown off the dusty ground. She was suddenly uncomfortable with their presence, despite gazing down at each and every one of them and picking them herself; none of them were wearing their helmets, but at least they were disciplined enough to keep their eyes closed and their heads bowed. It made speaking to them far easier.
âNoble knightsâŚâ She started, walking up the steps as slowly and as carefully as she could. âI have chosen each of you to become my fiercest guards. The next generation of defenders who will protect me until your services are no longer needed, like the ones who came before you who protected my mother.â She glanced over at Totopeko and smiled warmly, knowing after theyâve settled in, he would be able to retire, own land, and marry. âYou will be my shadow. My shield. My sword. I will not eat, sleep, or travel without you at my side. You will enter every room before me. Taste every dish before me. Drink from every cup before me. And stand between me and every stranger. Every order will be followed without question, for you are now an extension of myself. My mistakes, my misjudgments, my insecurities⌠you will project them all. Do you understand?â
âYes milady!â They all answered in unison, harmonizing remarkably well.
âYou will defend my honor with your lives. You will protect me from all manner of harm. No matter the threat to your own safeties. My life is paramount. Do you understand?â She asked, standing before them.
âYes milady!â They repeated.
âThis responsibility is a great and terrible burden. You will be in service far longer than your brothers. I will not force this task upon you if you do not wish it. Any or all of you may leave now and return to your posts if you so choose. I will not hold it against you.â This part made Leleni nervous; sheâs heard stories of all five chosen knights rising to their feet and leaving. If that happened to her, she would never live that shame down. âDo you understand?â
âYes milady!â None of the knights moved an inch, putting one of her worst fears to rest; already she felt far more relaxed and comfortable around them. More than that⌠she felt safe. She approached Guard Captain Totopeko and he lifted his sword in response. Her tiny hand wrapped around the glimmering silver hilt, and with a gentle pull, she freed the blade from its sheath.
Leleni approached the first knight, tapping him on either shoulder. âI name you the Bulwark of Leleni Leni.â The knight grimaced as he trembled, with a tear rolling down his cheek. She smiled before taking a gentle step to the right to stand before the next one. âI name you the Bulwark of Leleni Leni.â His face was still, but his faint smile betrayed his joy. She nodded at him before stepping to the right again. âI name you the Bulwark of Leleni Leni.â This knight almost fell over, his hand quickly shooting up to rub the snot away from his sniffling nose; he was a wreck, starting life as a good-for-nothing thief, now achieving the highest honor he could ever imagine. Leleni beamed at him, with each tap of his shoulder almost dropping him. Then she stepped in front of Zoronado. He opened his eyes to see her pearl-tipped heels poking out from beneath her gold and ebony dress. âI name you the Bulwark of Leleni Leni.â He felt the tip of the blade tap his shoulderguards one by one. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could to will away the temptation, but he couldnât resist. Zoronado opened his eyes and glanced upward so he may bear witness to her beauty.
Her hair was the color of honey, flowing locks of a dazzling blonde that draped over her shoulders and cascaded down her body. Her skin was fair -- the fairest he had ever seen; with reddening cheeks as soft and round as a bakerâs dozen of freshly made wheat buns. He found himself staring deep into her soft green eyes, his jaw wide open like a dead fish, his breath and heart both stopped. Zoronado did the unthinkable; he peeked under his Ladyâs hood and saw upon her fair maiden face before her betrothed did. Such an act would put most men in the black cells⌠but not him. Not this time. Leleni stood there in silence, unsure of what to do or what to say. So they both stared at each other, until Zoronado managed to close his dry mouth and drop his unblinking gaze back to her tiny feet.
The following night was their first mission, but nothing short of the greatest celebration any of them had ever seen. The entire island was out here in force, spilling out of the grand cathedral with camps and tents stretching out as far as the eyes could see. Zoronado stopped counting after two thousand, his focus redoubled to protecting his lady. Clad in thick blue steel and armed with heavy shields and sharpened blades, the Bulwark of Leleni Leni guided the Maiden through the gathering crowds of the common folk to her wedding. Her carriage was showered with flowers and confetti; a blinding cloud to be sure, at least it would have been without their helmets. Slowly they marched, two in front, three behind, until the carriage stopped at the bottom of the cathedral steps.
"Shields up!" Zoronado shouted over the chorus of cheers, and the Bulwark shuffled into a testudo formation at the carriage door. None were allowed to gaze upon her veil until she was at the altar. Leleni Leni stepped down from her cushioned seat, her polished shoes tapped against the cold stone step. She reached out and slipped her fingers into Zoronado's grasp before being gently pulled into her personal guard. A Bulwark moved to close the gap as soon as she was inside, and the bubble of raised shields slowly moved up, protecting her from every angle and blocking her from sight.
Her uncle was waiting in the lobby. Kukutowi Yamatowi was on the verge of tears when the testudo formation broke like an egg and his niece appeared from behind the lowering shields. "Uncle Towi?" She started, more confused than anything. "What are you doing� Where is father?"
"He is attending a meeting, my beautiful niece." Kukutowi answered, bowing gracefully. "But he sent me to walk you down the aisle myself." His sweet smile faltered when his gaze shot to her entourage. "Make sure no one enters. This day needs to be perfect!"
"Yes sir!" Zoronado turned to his four companions. "You two at the entrance, you two patrolling the hallways. I'll keep watch from the balc-"
"No." Leleni smiled at him through her veil; by most accounts she appeared happy, but her twinkling eyes told a different story. "You will walk me down the aisle instead."
"Yes milady!"
The color drained from Kukutowiâs face. "What?! Preposterous! Your father-!"
"-isn't here when I need his support the most." She watched his pale face turn bright red with anger, from the bottom of his neck to the tips of his ears.
âNow see hereâŚ!â Her uncle only made it one step forward before her knights turned to face him, with all five gripping the hilts of their swords; one more step closer and he would risk his own life. Kukutowi gulped dryly as he stared at the armored guards, helpless to protest this insult. He was almost tempted to call her bluff, but he wasnât a gambling man. They were sworn to Leleni -- not him; her word overrides all others, and with a single command and a passing thought her bulwark wouldnât hesitate to spill his blood on her wedding day.
"Go take your seat." She glanced over at one of her other knights. âSee to it that he doesnât get lost.â Her uncle glared daggers at Zoronado when he removed his helmet and offered the bride his arm. Leleni didn't even bother acknowledging his continued presence when a knight opened a side door and pushed the mumbling man through. Once he was out of sight and mind Zoronado began the long walk escorting her to her imminent husband. They both closed their eyes when the music swelled. They focused on putting one foot before the other, slowly walking past the audience that lacked both the manners and tact to keep their thoughts to themselves.
Leleni heard their whispers regarding Zoronado. âWho was this person? Where is Lord Diditusho? Why is this lowborn escorting Lady Leleni? Did something happen? Where is her father? Why is one of her knights guiding her?â Furtively the bride glanced over to see if they were affecting him, but his face was as still as stone, and his eyes remained forward and focused. A gentle smile danced along her lips before her gaze returned to the other end of the aisle. The groom, Nonobira Halabira, neither noticed nor cared who was escorting his wife; his beady brown eyes were fixed on the fairest Lalafell he had ever seen. Once they were close enough to touch, Leleni released her soft grip on Zoronadoâs arm, and took the last three steps alone to stand by his side. Just as the he was commanded, Zoronado knelt alongside the front row of the ceremony, still standing somewhat in the aisle; he remained close, heavily armed, and ready to move in and protect his lady at a momentâs notice. Watching this stranger slowly lift her veil to reveal her face made him feel things he wasnât prepared for. He was overjoyed, but not content, with pinging spikes of longing and yearning when he listened to her speak her vows.
And when he kissed her and sealed their oaths, and the audience rose to their feet with a roaring cheer and a deafening applause, all Zoronado felt was guilt. Guilt⌠and envy.
It was all he could think about during the reception. He stood in silent vigil at her side while it felt like every Lalafell in existence approached her dining table to shower her with gifts and praise. He was lucky to have his helmet -- the last thing he wanted to do was spoil her big day with the scowl plastered across his face. Heâs been to receptions just like this one his entire life; this place was filled to the brim with mutton-munching mooks masquerading as money-making masterminds, but even at his seventeenth summer, he knew better. These âaristocratsâ were as real as their compliments. Every single one of them would throw Leleni to the wolves or toss her body into the sea if it benefited them. The Bulwark kept a close eye on each and every one that approached her, and she never opened any of these gifts herself.
It was morning by the time he was able to get some sleep. Even with the sum of his training and discipline, he couldnât sit still and keep guard over their chambers as they consummated their marriage; every noise he heard whispering through the thin wooden door was enough to drive him insane, so he instead traded places with a knight-kin and spent the night walking through the cathedral until four or five bells later, once he was certain the deed was done and over. Zoronado returned to his post and leaned up against the wall, locked his knees, and did his best to catch at least a few bells of sleep before the sun stirred the newlyweds. He closed his eyes for what felt like the longest blink of his life, before the door gently opened and jerked him awake.
âZoroâŚâ Leleni whispered, her voice dry and scratchy. â... water.â
âYes milady.â He answered in a hushed tone, hoping he didnât wake up her husband. He turned on his heel and briskly walked down the hallway, making a beeline straight to the kitchens of the keep. He found a pitcher of ice water, drank a cupful to ensure it wasn't poisoned, and was halfway through pouring a second glass when he heard the soft patter of bare feet approaching behind him. Zoronado turned to see his lady staggering towards him, her beautiful blonde hair lazily tied into a ponytail, and her pajamas all twisted and poorly worn. Seeing her out of her normal attire was a definite shock -- he almost didn't recognize normal attire was definitely a shock -- he almost didnât recognize the woman if it werenât for her green eyes. She still remained far and above the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.
âI have something to ask of you.â Leleni mumbled, shambling toward the pitcher like a zombie. âYou heard me right⌠I said ask of you. And I want you to speak plainly. We can drop the formalities when itâs just us talking.â
âYes milady.â Zoronado handed her the cup of water and stood by to patiently watch her chug it down; she really was thirsty.
âI want to go to Eorzea. I want to see the sights. I want to know what itâs like on that continent of giants.â She pushed the cup back into his grasp so he could refill it for her. â... but I canât.â
âOne day, milady.â He gave her a reassuring smile. âWhy not ask your father to let you go?â
She eyed Zoronado up and down before leaning against the counter. âUncle told him what happened. Father is furious that I insulted our family by making you walk me down that aisle. He wants you stripped of your rank and thrown into the underbelly cells.â
âI will gladly accept any punishment your father sees fit.â He was quick to speak, causing her to pause mid-gulp. âIf imprisonment is the price for my loyalty⌠so be it.â
âI donât want that.â Leleni shrugged, chewing on an ice cube. âWhat I want is for you to go to Eorzea in my stead. Experience everything the mainland has to offer. Keep me informed of anything interesting. Enjoy the freedom and Iâll live vicariously through your exploits.â
âYes milady.â Zoronado answered without hesitation.
âReally?â The woman raised a brow at him. âNo thoughts? No questions? No concerns at all?â
âItâs a quest, milady.â He snapped to attention and delivered a crisp salute. âI will not fail you. Pictures, new recipes, strange animals⌠Iâll do everything I can to help you see the world, even if itâs not through your own eyes.â
A bright smile flashed across her face, electrifying him with an overwhelming surge of joy and pride. âThank you Zoronado Tatanado. Thank you for being my champion.â
đ¤ What is the one thing you constantly seem to struggle with when writing?
Dialogue is my Achilles tendon! If I write dialogue for an extended period of time I'm ruined. Only through mannerisms can I differentiate how my characters talk, and even then, they bleed together too often (S'era will often hum "Mmmmn...", Kâthalen's accent ranges from cliche cowboy southern drawl, to Irish??? to British pirate, Coroh has a stutter when she's nervous, Zoronado uses big boy words, and Mizuna is the most soft-spoken.) Easily my hardest challenge when writing by far, especially if I'm not concentrating.
Maybe I should make a chart to help moniter their speech patterns...
Couldnât find one of these so I made my own set of questions aimed at how people perceive their own writing and the qualities important to them, what they look for in other peopleâs writing, what they try to avoid, etc. Everyone has different preferences and this is a way to explore them.
đ What is one the one aspect of your writing you wish to improve?
đ¤ What is the one thing you constantly seem to struggle with when writing?
đŞ What is the one aspect of your writing you pride yourself on?
đ What is the most important quality you look for in someone elseâs writing?
đ When writing, what do you find yourself focusing to convey? Imagery? Banter? Emotions? Actions?
đ¤ Do songs play any role in inspiring you to write a particular scene?
đ What is a pet peeve you notice in pieces of writing not your own?
đ§ How do you deal with writerâs block?Â
đ What is the one part of writing that comes naturally to you? Â
đ How important is having an audience to share your writing with to you?Â
âď¸ Your opinion on purple prose?
𤲠Are there any authors who inspire your prose or influence how you write? Or are you an uncultured swine who has never picked up a book before?
đ¤ Name another person/blog you follow and name a specific aspect of their writing you value. Be sure to tag them!
â- For one of the worst mischief they did. (For Zoronado! That cute adorable bean! )
Zoronado lowered his head as he took a few meager steps forward. "... I'm not proud of it..." He started, nervously scratching behind an ear. "It happened during my thirteenth summer... I had just started puberty and fair maidens were all I could think about. One day I saw a commoner washing her clothes at the riverbank south of the keep, and..." Zoronado's face was as bright red as a tomato. "... I pretended to drown and drifted down past her. The poor angel...! She leapt into the stream, dragged me out onto the bank, and performed CPR to save my life. It was my first and only kiss."
He winced for a moment before shaking his head. Then he covered his face with his hands in absolute shame. "I was more animal than man!" Wet sniffles whispered out from between his fingers, and he plopped down onto his rear before the quiet sobbing started.
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âŽ- And a name to hear their real feelings for them.< â - And a name/ topic to hear what they hate the most about it/them. (For S'era - from Zevi, Mizuna or Coroh - for Osric, and K'thalen for Edalene)
"He's my cuddlebug. A real snack and a half, you know? I love him to death!" S'era clasped her hands together and beamed, but her smile didn't last. "But I... really hurt him. I accused him of killing my old Nunh S'tage... I almost lost him then. And there was that one time I had to mate with my current Nunh Vahli... I keep hurting him again and again, but he doesn't just..." Her ears flattened against her head and she grimaced. "Why doesn't he just leave me? Why does he keep letting me hurt him? I-I don't do it on purpose, but..."
"I don't deserve a man this patient. But one day I'll make it up to him a hundredfold. I swear it!"
---
"Osric?" Mizuna repeated, perking a brow. "He's too hard on himself, and like so many others around here, he needs to stop worrying about things beyond his control. He was a lovesick puppydog for someone, and that went down in flames. He then spent the next six moons slamming his head against the floorboards over it." She licked her lips and sighed, already in need of another dose of her medicine. "Chasing these young tarts is going to drive him insane. Focus on improving himself, and the women will chase him instead. That's all I have to say about it. Are we done here? I need to get back to work and you're not supposed to loaf around the clinic if nothing is wrong with you. Get out."
---
Coroh lit up with a bright smile. "He's smart, and strong, and brave... and so handsome. So so handsome... and mysterious? Why is he so aloof and quiet? What is he thinking about? Is it part of his terrible secret past? Do you think he's single? What does he think about Miqo'te women? Has he mentioned me? What's his favorite food? Would he go on a date with someone like me? Is he seeing someone? Does he-..."
Coroh's questionnaire goes on for the next eternity...
---
K'thalen looked up from his work station; he was inserting small ceruleum canisters into gunpowder-packed shotgun shells. "Eda's a real sweetheart. Honestly... she's a selfless lover, n'that's a mighty rare find." His sly smirk only grew, but his eyes told a different story. "Ina 'nother life, under different circumstances, I'd probably ask her to take what we have a lil'more serious. She's fun to be 'round, aye. N'not just in the bedroom. Talkin' to her is... simple. But I ain't... I... I can't love nobody ever again. It's too much... n'I just can't take no more ache than what I got on me right now. Ugh... I know what we got ain't gonna last." He let out a long sigh. "Hopin' it lasts for a bit longer, though. Maybe I should name my next revolver after her? Heh heh heh..."
S'era tapped her chin for a long moment. "Mmmmn... I really like it when R'zevi pulls on my tail. Sometimes I have to coax him to do it, like he forgets or something. Maybe it's not memorable? Anyway, it feels amazing. Tight grip right on the base of my tail and ooOOOOOHH!" She clapped her hands together and laughed nervously. "Heeheehee... u-um... I also like it when he whispers in my ear. Nothing filthy, mind you... I just like the feel of his breath on my neck. I suppose that's not really a kink now that I think about it. Oh, what about roleplay? Last time we played the 'Tribewife and the Tia Scoundrel', it was amazing. We need to do that more of...ten..."
S'era blinked as her face turned bright red. "R-right... it was just one... woopsies."
