Hydaelyn Role-Players

I. Basic Info


Characters: Aeriyn Ashley, K'airi Thalen, (spoiler alt)
Primary character: Aeriyn Ashley
Linkshells: No current RP linkshells (technically I am in the CRA linkshell, but I have virtually no RP involvement)
Primary RP linkshell: None.




II. RP Style


Amount of RP (light, medium, heavy):
I've been an "alleged" RPer for most of my time since the 2.0 launch. This hasn't entirely been on purpose, as many of my friends and contacts started roleplaying and developing plots and character interactions while I was too busy with PvE content.

Now that we're reaching the tail end of the 2.0/2.1 content, I'm finding myself with a lot more RP time, but hardly anyone to roleplay with! Most of the folks I know are already deeply entrenched in their own personal and shared storylines, leaving Aeriyn's personal plot almost entirely "solo" and more akin to fanfiction than actual roleplay.

In light of this I'd say my roleplay amount varies based on where in the current endgame tier we happen to be. As Coil Tier 1 is starting to wind down, I'm having a lot more time available for roleplaying. As the leader of my FC, I need to be online often to manage my company, but with very little to do once I cap myth tomes for the week (which usually happens by Tuesday after Coil), I generally spend my in-game time alt-tabbed doing something else while talking in FC chat.

Considering the content intended for 2.2, my RP availability probably won't change much since the Musketeer class is very unlikely to be added. Without a new class/job to level to 50 and gear up, I will likely continue to have lots of RP time.

Currently my RP availability is "moderate."


Views on RP combat and injuries:
I like don't RP "emote" combat at all. I much prefer to use the PvP system that exists in-game... of course, when dueling is used as a method to solve an IC dispute or as part of an IC plot, gear level is discussed OOC and we make sure that any unfair advantages are minimized as much as possible.

Even though this game does not have a dueling system and PvP is very restricted, I do not like RPing combat via emotes because it's very meta and not very immersive at all. If my character needs to fight another character, I would much rather write the battle out in a short story and post it here to the RPC, either stand-alone or in its appropriate story arc thread.

As for injuries, that depends on the severity. It's already canon in the lore that serious injuries and even death can be magically "fixed." However, considering how easy resurrection would screw with most roleplay, I disregard it and consider magical healing the equivalent of "combat medicine." If you're dead, you're dead, and the "raise" spells are used to pull someone out of unconsciousness (like in all Final Fantasy games, including FFXI).

Aeriyn has sustained a serious injury as a result of the Calamity and it is not something that can be "fixed." She suffered neurological damage and was both physically and mentally altered by corrupted aether. This has permanently changed her, radically altering her appearance and personality from the character she was in 1.0 before the fall of Dalamud. She has also suffered significant loss of memory and all of these things are related to her personal story arc.


Views on IC romance:
I'm definitely open to it. Out of my three current RP characters, two of them are lesbian (Aeriyn and K'airi) and one is asexual (spoiler character). 

Romance is something that may or may not happen in either of their plots, but sexual orientation and its associated romance and/or attraction is significant in K'airi's backstory as it was the reason she abandoned the Hipparion tribe after returning home shortly after the Calamity. The tribe's numbers had been devastated by Cartenau and the Calamity, but K'airi had no desire to breed with the nunh--or any male, for that matter. Familial pressure and demands resulted in a very angry K'airi leaving the tribe.

Aeriyn's views on romance are not touched upon in her current plot, and none of the people involved in it (what few there are) are currently considered potential love interests. It may come up later, it may not. I won't know until it happens.


Views on non-romantic RP (family ties, etc):
Aeriyn's family or tribe is completely unknown to her, and due to the physical mutation she suffered as a result of exposure to corrupted aether, it's highly unlikely that they would even recognize her if they saw her. Her adoptive family is in a much worse situation--her adoptive sister, the person who gave her the name "Aeriyn," is dead and, without Ariene's influence, the Ashley family of Ul'dah want nothing to do with the orphan miqo'te.


Views on lore:
I generally stick rather close to lore, but where it's not specific is considered fair game. This is necessary for my characters, who tend to be scientist or researcher type characters. Aeriyn is a researcher of magic and has at least some knowledge of all the different types of magic commonly used in Eorzea, and further knowledge of black magic as well (this being a remnant of her previous life before the Calamity).

Sometimes the lore is also completely nonsensical and logically inconsistent with the world we see around us. The White Mage lore is a good example of this sort of issue, where the job story tells the PC that they are the only non-Padjal white mage. Clearly this cannot work, and any time the game's story or lore declares that a player character is the Chosen One, I will disregard it for roleplaying purposes. Aeriyn may have defeated the Garleans and saved Eorzea in the main scenario, but she did not do this ICly. What is not explicitly mentioned as "special" I tend to keep, even if I have to bend it around a bit to make it fit; i.e. the Echo is canonically not unique and many, many people have it. Canonically there were an unspecified number of Warriors of Light (that is, those adventurers who were saved by Louisioux's use of Althyk's power). That makes things much easier for roleplayers such as myself.


Views on chat functions (/say, /linkshell, etc):
Linkshells are already established in-universe as a communications device. The Garlean Empire have non-magical radios that work exactly the same way radios work in the real world. Linkshells are established to work like magical analogues to real-world radios, using lightning-aspected aether in place of mundane electricity.

/say should be obvious.

I have permanently disabled /shout and /yell due to the proliferation of gil sellers.




III. Other Info
Country: USA
Timezone: Pacific Standard Time (UTC -8)
Contact info: Contact me here through PM. I don't bite!

Sex: Female
Race: Miqo'te | Keeper of the Moon
Residence: Limsa Lominsa (formerly of Ul'dah)
Tribe: None/Unknown
Age: Unknown; her physical age and appearance is inconsistent (appears to be around 20)
Relationship Status: Single
Guardian: Menphina the Lover
Nameday: 24th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon
Occupation: Field operative for the Maelstrom




Biographical Information

Place of Birth: Unknown
Mother: Unknown
Father: Unknown
Sibling(s): Ariene Ashley (adoptive) (deceased)
Romantic Partner: None
Children: None


Physical Appearance

Aeriyn's appearance is unusual and one of the first indications that everything isn't entirely right with this Keeper of the Moon. Her hair and fur is a pale shock shot through with lilac and pink, far from the natural dusky coloration of her people. Her eyes are deep violet, not a rarity among Keepers of the Moon, but striking nonetheless.

Aeriyn's age is almost impossible to determine from her appearance. She looks physically youthful, as one would expect of a Keeper in her late teens or early twenties, but her diverse skillset and powerful magic hint that she may be much older than she appears. Her frame is slight and petite, but toned; she would hardly be a physical match for a gladiator of the Coliseum, but instead wears the physique of a well-traveled adventurer. Her movement is fluid--almost too fluid, appearing as if she moves slightly faster than would be natural.

When it comes to clothing, when directly seeking battle, Aeriyn wears a much-mended robe of heavy, dark material. It was the same robe she was wearing when she awoke during a Thanalan monsoon and has no memory or knowledge of where it came from or how she obtained it. It was nearly destroyed when she first woke, but later she repaired it. Her skill as a weaver is not the greatest in the world, but the distinctive cut and design of the black battle robes meant she had little choice. Despite extensive repairs, they provide a significant amount of protection against magical attacks, but aren't nearly as effective at warding off physical blows, offering about the same protection as a jerkin of leather armor.

If you see her in the city on business, you won't see this robe. She will typically be clad in a finely-crafted and comfortable tunic of faintly shimmering white fabric with a dark brown underlayer, over long stockings and soft leather shoes. Aeriyn carries an enchanted satchel with her at all times; the small pack has been ensorceled with an extradimensional pocket, enabling Aeriyn to carry a merchants' cart worth of equipment and supplies on her with minimal weight and bulk.


Personality

Aeriyn's personality is calm and collected, perhaps a bit absent-minded at times, especially when she loses herself in her work. She speaks fairly bluntly and chooses not to mince words when dealing with others. Unlike many academics, Aeriyn is rather closemouthed about her areas of research--likely due to the nature of the type of subjects she studies and experiments she conducts. When faced with dangerous situations, Aeriyn rarely loses her composure. Years of study and research of the aether in wild, untamed places has given her a strong danger sense that has saved her life time and time again.

When battle is upon her, Aeriyn does not shy away from the fray. Instead of naked steel, she wields thaumaturgies and elemental forces as her weapon. Long expeditions into the wilds has taught Aeriyn to be self-sufficient, driving the focus of her magical talents toward a mix of offensive and defensive powers that allow her to engage multiple opponents alone. She also possesses a middling talent for healing magic, utilizing her knowledge of arcanima to bolster wounded and sagging flesh.

Like many miqo'te who have spent much of their lives within a major metropolis, Aeriyn does not display many of the traits of other members of her race. Her speech is clear, precise and highly educated. She displays an excellent understanding of logic and critical thinking--important skills for one in a position such as hers. An outside observer might think she has her head in the clouds as she regularly takes walks around Limsa Lominsa, muttering to herself quietly while attempting to design or solve equations that predict the behavior of aether.

The study of magic--more accurately, the inner workings and sources of all magic--utterly consumes her. Whenever and wherever she can, Aeriyn will always be pondering, analyzing and dissecting every bit of knowledge, every equation, every formula she has learned or discovered herself in her life-long mission to fully realize a cohesive theory of aetherial manipulation. This desire eventually brought her into close cooperation with the arcanist's guild, Mealvaan's Gate, and the Grand Company of Limsa Lominsa, the Maelstrom. This desire also leads her to be somewhat neglectful of more mundane tasks; she has been known to forget to eat if engrossed in study, and while Aeriyn does make an effort to care for her appearance, she has very little regard for modesty, though this is not uncommon for miqo'te.

In personal relationships, Aeriyn can be distant, especially if her mind is immersed in some sort of magical problem. She is warm and caring with her friends and offers cold disinterest to those who have declared themselves her enemies. Aeriyn cares little for honor and much for duty and responsibility; if she accepts a mission or a contract, whether it was issued by the Maelstrom, Mealvaan's Gate or even the Dicasterial Observatory, Aeriyn will do everything in her power to faithfully complete her task.


History

The red moon. The light of a crystal.

Then... darkness.

Water--no, rain. A lot of rain. One eye opened and all she could see was a blur of lilac-tinged hair, matted against her face from the rain. Abruptly she sat up, her muscles aching with a stiffness that suggested they had gone unused for a great length of time. She swooned as blood rushed from her head, filling her vision with bright red spots.

The miqo'te girl wiped the wet hair and water from her face and took stock of her surroundings. Rain cascaded from the sky in great sheets, spattering against the stone around her. She lay upon a raised bluff above the sandy ground. The torrential downpour was greedily devoured by the parched, dry sandy soil, but the miqo'te knew that wouldn't last. It was a monsoon; flash-flooding would be an immediate danger.

She had no idea how she wound up in the desert in the middle of a monsoon. Her clothing--bloodied and torn and ripped and no longer recognizable--was well and thoroughly soaked. A thaumaturge's aetheric focus, a short staff fashioned from dark wood, lay nearby. Pragmatism took over; the miqo'te began to strip off her ruined attire, leaving her clad only in her smallclothes. The waterlogged garments would only hinder her at this point. She picked up the staff and dropped off the edge of the stone bluff, dropping a few yalms to the desert floor. The rain was so intense that she could barely see more than a stone's throw in front of her, but a dark shape loomed before her with far too many hard, straight edges to be a natural formation.

That, then, must've been a city. She didn't know where she was, but getting out of the storm was a priority. The temperature was already starting to drop; she had no idea how long ago the sun had set. She straightened her posture and forged ahead carefully but quickly as she dared. In such a downpour, most of the more dangerous denizens of the desert would have retreated to their burrows and caves seeking shelter from the storm, but something told the miqo'te that she wouldn't be blessed with an easy road.

---

Indeed, she was not blessed with an easy road.

The miqo'te crouched behind a large boulder, pressing her petite form against a fissure in the rock in an attempt to make her already small frame even smaller. Below her in a slight depressed basin already filling with water, stood six soldiers dressed in the livery of the Immortal Flames. The miqo'te recognized the colors and realized she must be within the territory of the city-state Ul'dah.

The Flames stood warily, knee-deep in silty water, their weapons drawn. The miqo'te watched as they glanced furtively in the rain, as if they were seeking some unseen attacker. They didn't have long to wait; the miqo'te's eyes widened as a hail of arrows poured into the center of the basin. There was a flash of blue light as the group's conjurer quickly brought forth a protective barrier, warding off the missiles as if they were akin to the rain spattering off the Flame soldiers' armor.

The expected charge came after the initial preemptive strike failed. Massive muscular frames and black skin flashed in the rain as an Amalj'aa warband surged into the basin. Swords rasped free of scabbards as they charged with bloodcurdling screams of primal rage. The miqo'te could see both the attackers and those who were besieged, but neither could spot her from her vantage point behind the great boulder. Prudence told the miqo'te that she should leave while the two groups were engaged in combat, but something else made her stay.

She caught sight of a Flame soldier, a woman dressed in shining armor. An Amalj'aa blade slashed out at her, but she ducked, the blade catching her helmet and wrenching her down to the ground. The helmet, creased by the powerful blow, flew through the air, discarded as it had done its job in protecting its wearer's head from certain doom. Red hair shot through with strands of black, soaked with battle-sweat and rain, crowned the head of a young woman, her face locked in an expression of calm, collected determination. The other Flames were panicking or giving into their rage, but this woman looked serene and nearly peaceful in the center of the battle-chaos.

Her spear flashed as she launched into a dizzying series of stabs, slashes and chops that sundered the attacking Amalj'aa's meager defenses. A quick spin, a sudden thrust and the beastman warrior fell, choking wetly as the woman's polearm sliced through flesh and bone to destroy the creature's heart.

The other Flames rallied at the woman's kill, but the hidden miqo'te knew that the warband would eventually overwhelm them. She managed to count fifteen unique Amalj'aa before the chaos of battle caused her to lose her place. The voice of pragmatism seemed to lose its force and volume in her mind and a plan started to form. That calm warrior of the spear, so poised in the midst of what would soon be a losing battle followed by an inglorious death, would not die tonight.

---

Roaring flames exploded from the center of the massed Amalj'aa warband. The conjurer-shaman was incinerated in a fraction of a second, the massive aetheric detonation tearing his body apart into motes of charred flesh the consistency of fine sand. Powerful shock waves from the sudden explosion knocked the other beastmen from their feet, causing their well-executed defensive formation to disintegrate before their eyes.

The warrior woman with the spear did not bother to wonder from whence this unexpected aid came. With a fierce grin of determination she pressed the advantage, wading into the faltering warband. Her spear flashed with brilliant fire as she slashed in wide arcs, felling lizardmen with each blow. The other soldiers rushed forward behind their captain--it was obvious to the miqo'te that the red-haired woman must've been the leader of this platoon--and their swords quickly went about their gruesome work.

She could have left then and been reasonably sure the Immortal Flames would have survived, but something inside her wouldn't allow it. The miqo'te joined the fight, her staff clutched tightly in her right hand. She waded into the basin, thankful she had removed her clothing as the waterlogged vestments would have only weighed her down further. Her short stature meant that she was over waist-deep in the water, but it wouldn't matter--she didn't need to get close to kill her enemy.

The miqo'te's body surged with barely-contained power as she unleashed magical devastation in the form of elemental ice--directly at the feet of the surviving Amalj'aa. The aether fashioned into the absence of heat and the harbinger of entropy froze the water solid around their huge calves, rooting them firmly into place as the Flames charged into the fray. The battle was fully joined and the Flames now held a distinct advantage, but the miqo'te wasn't going to let things lie.

The combatants were far too close for any wide-area destructive spells, but the miqo'te was as skilled at her death-dealing craft as a master artisan. She channeled power through her focus and sent darts of killing flame in wave after wave. They were carefully aimed, striking Amalj'aa flesh or weapons, blasting swords from their grip or burning through black scaly flesh.

Between the spear of the lady captain, the swords of her subordinates and the miqo'te's destructive magics, the battle was over within a few short minutes.

---

The miqo'te willed her breathing to slow and lowered her outstretched hand, leaning heavily on her staff in the waist-deep water. She hadn't been at her best before the battle and the expenditure of aetheric energy left her feeling hollow, shaken and cold.

"You--identify yourself," a clear voice demanded suddenly. The miqo'te looked up blankly to see the Immortal Flames captain, the woman with red hair, giving her a critical gaze. The spear that had so handily dispatched many beastmen was now leveled in her direction.

"I don't... I don't know," the miqo'te said. It was true; she didn't know her name.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I remember the red moon--Dalamud. Above Mor Dhona. Then... darkness. I woke up, here, in the rain..."

The woman's hard expression softened; her spear-point lowered. "You fought at Cartenau?"

"I... I think so," the miqo'te said, her tail drooping beneath the water. "My memory is really fuzzy. I'm not sure of much right now except that I'm cold and tired and soaking wet."

"My patrol is heading back to Ul'dah," the woman said, spinning her weapon around in a tight flourish before replacing it in a cunningly-designed quick-release mounted on the back of her armored cuirass. "I'll offer my thanks for your timely assistance with an escort back to the city. Do you have anywhere to stay?"

"N-no..."

"Don't worry," the woman said, noticing the blush forming across the miqo'te's cheeks. "Come with us. Corporal, get a spare poncho from the gear and give it to her so she doesn't look quite so much like a poor drowned cat."

The subordinate soldier did as he was instructed and the miqo'te gratefully accepted the waterproofed hempen garment, pulling it over her body. It was rough against her skin, but it had been treated with some type of oil that caused it to shed water like the waxy leaves of a tree.

"How did you end up in Thanalan? The battle was over a year ago," the captain asked as the patrol headed back toward the dark shape in the storm.

"I... I'm not sure," the miqo'te said, pulling the hood of her poncho lower over her face to shield her eyes from the rain. Her ears already ached, cramped in the garment intended for use by Hyur wearers.

"My name's Ariene," the captain went on, changing subjects abruptly. "Flame Captain Ariene Ashley. This here is my command. Thanks to you we survived the Amalj'aa ambush without a single casualty. The lot of us owe you a bundle."

The miqo'te felt her cheeks flushing even brighter, thankful the hood of her poncho hid her face from the captain's gaze.

"Aeriyn," the captain said after a long moment of silence. "Yeah, that'll do. It suits you."

"What?"

"Well, I can't just call you 'hey, you' or 'miqo'te,' now can I?" Ariene explained. "You saved my life--the least I can do is give you a new name."

"Aeriyn," the miqo'te repeated solemnly. "I like it. What does it mean?"

"Hells if I know," Ariene said, chuckling softly. "It just sounds nice is all."