Ever'ard Coy

Name: Ever'ard Coy Alias(es) and/or Nicknames: Lieutenant Coy, Gamemaster Coy Race: Miqo'te (Keeper of the Moon) Gender: Male Nameday: 13th Sun of the 4th Astral Moon Alignment: Neutral Good Guardian: Althyk, The Keeper Homeland: Thanalan Age: 25 Affiliation(s): The Immortal Flames, The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, The Lore Seekers Class Information: Spellsword. Ever'ard has a imbalance of aether within his body, making him produce more than the average person, and he utilizes this aether to enhance his weaponry. He can cast either beneficial or harmful spells, though focusing on such can easily deplete his energy, which can result in a self-KO. If he tries to bottle the aether up, it can result in an aether burst, so it is a delicate balancing act. Crafting/Gathering Information: Ever'ard is quite handy at working metals. Goldsmith, Blacksmith, Armorer, Miner. Additional Abilities: Has an Echo, but it never seems to really trigger or activate, possibly due to his personal aether pool causing interference. It does prevent him from being enthralled still, however. Biography: Biography: Born as the eleventh son of a miqo'te, he was always treated as the runt of the litter. With how matriarchal his kin are, he was bullied and ridiculed for being born a son, instead of the daughter his family needed. He did eventually flee home at a young age to avoid the abuse, and if anyone asks, he'd just say he was orphaned. Rather than let the abuse sour his outlook on life, he saw his newfound freedom as a gift. Living as a homeless cretin, he scavenged and fought for his food, never calling any one place home, oftentimes swapping between Thanalan and The Shroud for his hunting grounds. One day, something miraculous happened, once he came of age. With a fresh kill, he was busy cooking meat over a fire in one of the many camps of homeless people stationed outside of Ul'Dah, looking around as he did, before spotting someone sitting by themselves. Something about them caught his eyes... and before he knew it, he had a splitting headache, the world dizzying around him, falling back... before suddenly watching... a memory. His Echo had become manifest. This individual was someone else down on their luck... someone that the vision showed hadn't been able to eat for weeks. Coming to shortly after, he felt compassion for the person. For the first time, he was looking outwards rather than inwards. Meat cooked, he approached the individual, and offered the food. Thus started a new life with a more selfless outlook, keeping an eye out for people in need, and offering aid where he could. Now that he was an adult, he'd enter Ul'Dah and proceed to chat with a few of the guilds within. The Adventurer's Guild was more than happy to take another new leaf under their wings. The Thaumaturges took a rather high interest in him, able to perceive something within that he could not... A case of inner aether that'd work wonders in casting spells. They insisted he take up the rod, and he obliged. Casting spells would be far easier than fighting tooth and claw for his food... or so he thought. During one such hunt in The Shroud, Ever'ard had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time... Odin was about. He never saw the primal, but the air was thick with aether, and the longer he stayed in The Shroud, the worse he felt. Eventually he had to flee, a splitting headache taking him. He'd only make it to Camp Drybone, before collapsing, and passing out. His innards were aflame with aether imbalance, from using his own inner aether while the palpable aether from outside was clawing at him. He was in a feverish sweat... For two days, he was bedridden, the priests of the Church of Saint Adama Landama watching oer him, trying to help stabilize him.. but ultimately, that aether spark the Thaumaturges saw within him was what pulled him together in the end, taking control of the aether imbalance, and balancing it within him. He was aether heavy now, but he was able to wake. Where his eyes had once been brown, they now glowed, left a white glow, right a black. Returning to the Thaumaturges, he explained the events that had happened. Concerned with his account, as well as the thicker aether around his form, something that was palpable to even initiates, they ultimately recommended seeking the Conjurers in Gridania, as their nurturing magic may be able to help. The journey was predictably long, and the travel draining on his spirit... He had to paws at times to fling out spells, just to keep the edge off, but he did eventually reach the Conjurer's guild. Sharing his story, they recommended asking the aid of the elementals, complete with enrolling him as a novice conjurer. He did take to casting their spells with ease due to his inner aether... though still felt something off inside. The answer did come before long though, from one of the elder conjurers. He had an overabundance of aether. At their recommendation, they had him just... release, casting spell after spell to try and remove the excess. It was draining, and ultimately he ended up going light headed and passing out. Waking the next day under the watchful eye of the conjurers, his aether had built up again. At this point, it was recommended that he seek not a cure, but a method of balance, an outlet to keep him at healthy levels without draining too much. And so came the long trek to Vesper Bay... He knew there was a school of magic there, one that might be able to offer a third opinion. Scavenging coin, he managed to purchase a ship ride to La Noscea for the first time in his life. He was fortunate that the Arcanist's Guild were literally right next door to the ship dock, it meant not wandering lost in the spiraling city-state. They taught him about sculpting aether into what you imagined, letting it become a living, breathing thing... a Carbuncle. The casting of a carbuncle was a lovely bit of edge taken off, but they were nearly self-sustaining, not a thick enough drain to keep things on average. After some consideration, they suggested something not as refined as that practice, but could feasibly work, considering what others that have done such have gone through... Summoning weapons. Raw hardened aether created for combat, for hitting with and taking hits, was far more taxing on someone's aether, but may be just enough to keep him at balance. Sure enough... it was. With conjured weaponry, he could use his aether to fight, and defend, all while keeping his personal levels on par. So he started his own self training, refining a unique fighting style. Nothing as refined as something taught under the tutelage of one of the Guilds, but something that worked for him. With his new calling as a self-dubbed "spell-sword," he renewed his vision of helping others. He never seemed to have any visions any more... but that didn't stop him from aiding where he could. Seeking to better his own defenses, and potentially his weaponry, he eventually sought out metal working as a craft. Mining seemed to fit in hand in hand with his origins of being self sufficient, so in off time he'd work on pounding, smoothing, and polishing metals and ores, eventually getting quite potent in the craft. His work caught the eye of the Scions and the Flames both, and he happily joined both companies, soon enough calling Ul'Dah home sweet home. His Scion work has pit him against the primals of Eorzea several times, and his echo has proved beneficial in ensuring that he didn't become enthralled. In the aether rich realms of primals, his personal aether would spike... it made going all out with his spells quite advantageous. Eventually finding a flyer for the Lore Seekers, he'd decide to join their merry band... One of the first associates, and steadily, becoming the Grandmaster in the Free Company.