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Where the Wind Blows [Open]


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This is open for anyone to join. I'm exploring a WIP character concept for ARR. so anything I determine here with N'klas could potentially change. So, consider it potentially AU?



Back and forth over his fingers, he rolled the ring as he strolled casually down through the markets of Limsa Lominsa. He enjoyed the taste of salt in the air, the hustle and bustle of the people going about their daily business. But better than anything was the smell of something freshly baked wafting over towards the Miqo’te, drawing him in. And the ring made it’s path continuously over his fingers, a nervous habit, before he curled up his hand, slipping it back onto the ring finger of his right hand just as he slipped past the stand with the fresh bread and pies. Quick as a flash, his hand slipped out and a loaf of bread slid into the satchel at the side.


For about three steps, N'klas thought he’d gotten away with it, unable to stop the small grin that spread at the corner of his lips. But then his ears perked up at the rush of footsteps behind him and he shot off, one hand pressed protectively against his satchel. Someone was shouting after him, the merchant presumably, and he ducked around and behind people and stands, ears twitching at the cries of ’thief!’ and ‘get back here, kid!


The young Miqo’te couldn’t ignore the light feeling in his chest, nearly making him laugh out loud as he swerved awkwardly past a pair heading towards him, just missing barreling into them with a stumbling twist. He enjoyed the chase just as much as he did not wish to be caught. And the boy (nearly 17 now), though a little clumsy at times, was quick on his feet. He was little more than a pale blur with his drab clothes, silvery hair and fur and skin that was just a bit darker.

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A cloaked figure strode through the market stalls of Limsa Lominsa, the worn sheathe of a longsword strapped to his waist. Although he stood at a towering 6’1”, what truly set the Hyur apart from the crowd was his girth. Despite the thickness and length of his cloak, he had a powerful physique that could not be hidden.


Tyonis was not normally one for law-enforcement, but his desperation for Gil drove him to temporarily enlist as a mercenary guard. With all his claims and holdings in Ul’dah, Tyonis had no alternative but to find honest work for coin, lest he resort to thievery. Seven years ago, Tyonis Magstrom would have simply killed any who opposed his will. Now, he was reluctant to steal the few coins it took to purchase a barge ticket.


As he shadowed the Mi’qote, Tyonis could only smirk with mild amusement. From the age of ten, he lived as a street rat; barely surviving on Ul’dah’s bloodstained alleyways. Limsa Lominsa boasted ships, pirates, and sailors of the highest caliber, but their dedication to the art of thievery was woefully lacking. If the Miqo’te made such a blatant attempt at shoplifting in Ul’dah, he would have been run-through by sword and lance before his next breath. The boy was skilled and fast, but in Tyonis’ eyes, he was still a child.


Like a wolf winding through dense wood, Tyonis slid through the crowded streets, one eye locked on his target. The boy darted between the idle crowds with a grace that complemented his race, but Tyonis continued to stalk him like the mongrels he was aptly named after. Slowly, he closed the distance, careful not to approach too quickly, lest he alert the boy to his intent or disturb the boy’s focus on evasion.


As the Miqo’te barreled between a pair of bystanders, Tyonis saw him stumble and twist into a coarse recovery. That stutter in pace and stride was more than enough for Tyonis to finally leap out and reach forward; a single, strong hand aiming to clock the boy on the back of the neck.

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He was too focused on weaving his way through the crowd to notice the one person trailing him silently from behind. But all it took was that short lapse in his concentration and stumbling step for his pursuer to have an opening. N'klas took the strike to the back of the neck before he even realized the Hyur was there. It wasn't strong enough to drop him entirely, but the boy was stunned a moment and stumbled forward again, hand reaching out for a nearby wall to steady himself.


The Miqo'te was not smiling. He turned back towards the Hyur, ears flattened and his tail puffed up in an aggressive manner. And strangest of all was the glow from his ring , surrounding the emblazoned symbol etched into the gem's surface. It drew its power instinctively from N'klas , sensing the young Miqo'te's heightened emotions and the attack. A swirl of energy and there before him was his familiar, with a gem embedded into its forehead, head lowered, back arched, and tails just as puffed up as its young charge's.


As far as N'klas was concerned, he needed nobody else. It had been just he and Carbuncle for years now. He wandered from place to place, stealing more often than not just to get by. Limsa Lominsa was only his most recent stop in a long and unending journey that went nowhere at all.



And since we know nothing about the arcanist class besides the brief blurb on the website, I'm taking some creative liberties here until we find out more.


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Although his face remained obscured under the shadows of his cloak, Tyonis was reasonably surprised by the boy’s hardiness. A blow to the back of the neck would have easily knocked out most grown men. Granted, the Mongrel held back to avoid snapping the Mi’qote’s spine; self-control was not something the swordsman was accustomed to - it was possible he held back too much. Instead of immediately pouncing on the weakened Mi’qote, Tyonis let the boy recover before closing the distance again, as if to reward the Mi’qote’s admirable fortitude.


However, once the thief turned to face him, Tyonis advanced, a wooden mace already drawn. He held it idly at his side as he closed the distance, but quickly came to a halt, his stance shifting readily. His eyes narrowed and his arm tensed in anticipation as Tyonis sensed Aether gather around the boy’s finger.


“A mage?” Tyonis hisses angrily. His voice is rough, like unrefined steel against a grindstone. “I should have just run you through.”


He clicks his tongue in annoyance as a ball of energy appears between them and condenses into a small, blue, fox-like creature with a shining gem embedded in its forehead. It mimicked the intent of its charge, and their affinity was almost endearing. A crowd began to gather around them, intrigued by the show and fascinated by the Miqo’te’s magical familiar. The nostalgic scene reminded Tyonis of his life on the Bloodsands, fighting for his life as a gladiator. It was during this slight remiss that Tyonis recognized the glint of accustomed desperation in the Miqo'te's eyes. It was an expression he often wore back on Ul'dah's streets.


Off in the distance, he could hear the angry shouts of Limsa Lominsa’s Yellow Jackets closing in. In truth, all Tyonis had to do was keep the Miqo’te here until Limsa’s guardsmen came to finish the job. The Mongrel held the mace aloft, acknowledging the boy’s will to fight.




OOC: Sure I don't mind!

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I changed Isaac's height to reflect upon the information in this thread.



Isaac, with his hood drawn up and cloak tightly wrapped about himself, strolled through the streets of Limsa Lominsa. It had been more than a few years since he had visited the port city and it would have been all too soon that he again visited, but his business had led him here, much to his dislike. He liked the sea all fine and well, some of his fondest memories as a young man were out at sea with his sister and their former mentor, but Limsa Lominsa had bad memories associated with it, often times leaving a sour taste in the back of his mouth at their recollection.


He focused his mind on his task as he walked along the streets, absently dodging the people in the growing crowd as he neared the market wards, his finger idly stroking the cross guard of the sword at his hip, also concealed by his cloak. Though he was trained in its use, Isaac preferred his bow over the blade, but he had left his bow with Aaralyn, his Highlander traveling companion who waited just outside the city, saying that if push came to shove, the bow would draw less attention than her magick if she needed to make a hasty retreat.


Isaac was jarred from his reverie as shouts rang out above the crowd. He couldn't make out exactly what was said over the drum of voices from people haggling with merchants and hawkers selling their wares, but he could clearly make out the word 'theif'.


As the progression rounded a corner, Isaac could make out a young Miqo'te running from a merchant and city guards. There was something else that caught his eye, something large by comparison to the small fellow, but whatever it was was swallowed up by the crowd.


As the fleeing Miqo'te drew closer to his position, Isaac took a few steps to the side into a group of people, hoping to blend in. His height, at five-foot seven inches, was generally tall for his race and he was well built, though not bulky, he had a little trouble blending in as, much to his irritation, the crowd around him was mostly shorter than he was. Being the only fully cloaked person didn't help either.


Nearly faster than he could follow, mostly because his attention was on the younger male, a large man stepped out and and hit the Miqo'te in the back of he head, causing him to stumble. Isaac was sure the Miqo'te would have at least been knocked unconscious, if not seriously injured, but to his surprise the young man stumbled, caught himself, then whirled around in an aggressive manner, ready to meet the challenge.


Isaac could feel the familiar tingle of Aether course through his body as the boy summoned a Carbunkle. He watched with rapt attention, now, his piercing hawk-like gaze taking in the action. His hand firmly gripping the hilt of his sword.

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Despite the boy and his familiar's aggressive stance, he was not a fighter. His eyes flickered from the massive Hyur, to his mace, and to Carbuncle that had leapt from the jewel to defend him. He had no weapon of his own and if the man thought he was a mage -- a real mage who could actually do something -- he was mistaken. There might have been potential once, but that was a lifetime ago. At the threat, the boy flattened his ears and took a short step back, ignoring the ache on the back of his neck or how his vision still seemed to waiver a bit. That blow to his neck was still affecting him.


The Hyur lifted his mace high in the air and for a moment, N'klas stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. Wait a minute. Was he really inviting an attack just like that? It was a simple command and the Miqo'te did nothing for a moment. But whatever his options, fighting this warrior was not one of them.


"Nah, you'll have to catch me first," he taunted, a sly grin gracing his features. And with an instinctive connection, Carbuncle leapt straight for the Hyur's face. N'klas took advantage of the potential distraction to turn and run, shoving his way right into the crowd that had gathered around them. He didn't have too many options in where to run just yet.


Though Carbuncle was fast, the familiar was not hardy or powerful. Whatever power it N'klas unconsciously gave it was only enough to form it in this world. It wouldn't take much at all to disperse it back into aether. He was sadly untrained as an arcanist, the ring a relic from better times.

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A battle is a life-or-death fight between two nearly matched entities, so what occurred between Carbuncle and the cloaked Hyur could only be called a slaughter. It was often said that cornered animals only fought that much harder. But Mongrels knew exactly how to deal with such dangerous desperation. He lifted his mace over his head, cocking back his first blow.


The familiar leapt at him, teeth bared to rip out his throat.


Tyonis smashed his mace into the creature’s skull, ripping it from the air and hammering it into the ground with brutal pragmatism.


His mace followed through, mercilessly. At such speeds, his arm may have broken if he made direct contact with the hard ground, but Carbuncle’s Aetheric flesh softened the impact.


A second strike silenced the creature’s piteous whines.


A third strike crushed its twitching body.


As the familiar began to disperse, Tyonis came to a full stand,his eyes following the Miqo’te as the boy shoved his way through the crowd. It was a common tactic for older street-rats to use novice thieves as bait for the authorities while the more experienced pickpockets and shoplifters took advantage of the distraction. What the Miqo’te did was much the same. The strong lived by devouring the weak; it was one of the only laws that applied to both the wealthy and the destitute.


“The weak are food for the strong,” Tyonis begins, a grim smile visible beneath his hood. “But devouring your own familiar must leave a terrible taste in your mouth, boya.” He says to the empty air between them.


Whether or not the Miqo’te heard him over the thong, Tyonis could not say, but he was sure those ears were not just for show. As the Miqo’te vanished, the Yellow Jackets finally made their appearance. After a swift questioning, Tyonis used his mace and pointed the guardsmen in the direction of the thief. Without another word, they gave chase. The swordsman stood silently as the guards rushed past him. He made no effort to pursue.


With their fascination sated, the gathering finally started to scatter, and the hooded figure disappeared into the crowded market streets once more.

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As the Hyur raised his Mace, Isaac took a step forward, releasing his sword partway from its sheath, about to voice a protest, but he wasn't quick enough. The mace came down with deadly intent as the Hyur quickly dispatched the Carbunkle.


He cursed under his breath and drove his sword back into its scabbard then turned in the direction the young Miqo'te had run off. As the Hyur pointed in the direction of the fleeing young man, Isaac idly wondered what he could have stolen to warrant such a violent turn of events in the middle of the streets. In broad daylight.


He took a quick glance at all the guards gathering, quickly taking stock of the situation, deciding what he would do. He should stay out of it now while he still could, he knew, but his attention was already drawn away from his task. It could wait. Without any further delay, he dashed off in the direction the young Miqo'te had gone.


Isaac was tall and his long legs afforded him speed, but with all the people about he wasn't able to reach his full speed, having to dodge people here and there, but it wasn't long until he spotted the fleeing thief.


As he gained on him, Isaac unfastened the button of his cloak at his neck. There was a brief opening in the crowd of people. Isaac took advantage with a quick, powerful burst of speed and was quickly on the heels of the Miqo'te.


He would reach out to snatch the youngster by the collar, pull him to a halt then throw his cloak around him and push him into a throng of people gathered nearby to conceal him.


"Stay still," He said over the noise of the people.

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He hesitated, hearing Carbuncle's cry even as he vanished into the crowd. It was more than he had expected. Usually the familiar simply vanished into aether after a single strike, but maybe this was a sign of his own power growing stronger. It was unsettling, and the Hyur's last shout out to him had the boy grinding his teeth, half jerking back with no real idea what he was planning on doing. In that moment of brief hesitation, something did jerk him back, but it was the hand of another rather than anything under his own power.


The heavy weight of fabric was tossed over him and N'klas found himself being pulled into the crowd of people, a hushed voice telling him to be still. The Miqo'te bit down on his own lip, but did as he was told, clutching the edge of what he realized now must have been the stranger's cloak. A slight warmth in his finger pulled N'klas' attention back down to his ring, where Carbuncle had returned to since his defeat at the Hyur's sword.


The young Miqo'te flattened his ears and stilled his tail as best he could as the Yellow Jackets moved swiftly past, eyes peeled for the very youth they had just passed by. Being a male Miqo'te made blending in all the more difficult, but the cloak helped him out just enough. Either they didn't realize he was Miqo'te, or they just didn't have it in their heads to search for someone wrapped up in a cloak. He scanned the streets for any sign of the Hyur, but he could see no sign of the other. N'klas wasn't sure how he felt about that.


He relaxed only slightly as the Yellow Jackets turned in the wrong direction and N'klas, sparing the other Miqo'te a glance, turned off in the opposite direction, taking the cloak with him. If the other wanted it back, he would just have to follow along.



OOC: Slightly altered the spelling of his name so it's now N'klas. I updated my other posts to reflect it.


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Isaac watched as the guards ran past, now chasing a phantom. He looked back in front of him to address the young Miqo'te but frowned when he didn't see him. He quickly looked around and spotted him walking off in the opposite direction the guards had gone.


Isaac made his way through the crowd, catching up with the youngster, and gripped the underside of his arm but made no attempt to lead him in any direction. He just wanted to make sure the stranger didn't try and dart off.


After the crowd started to thin out, Isaac positioned himself directly next to the supposed thief. Looking down at him, he held out his hand. "Out with it. What did you steal that would warrant so many guards?"

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N'klas just wanted to be gone and away. The encounter had shaken him, though he wasn't about to admit that to anyone (and especially not some stranger). But a hand gripped his arm and the boy stopped in his tracks, casting a scowl back at the meddlesome Miqo'te. But it wasn't until the crowd began to thin out that the scene progressed, and that suited N'klas just fine. He didn't want to create another commotion, especially not so soon after the last.


The other held out his hand, demanding an answer for the boy's terrible crime and N'klas couldn't hold back the ironic smirk playing on his lips. "All this trouble for some bread," he admitted, reaching into the pocket of the coat beneath the cloak and producing it. It was still warm and flaky and he tossed it towards the other without a word. "I don't know. Maybe they thought I robbed him of all his gil or something," he said with a shrug, crossing his arms. "Which I didn't." And it was so much trouble for some bread. The kid hadn't even been in this town all that long.


OOC: Slow posts for a while longer. My computer has a scorched processor and the repair place had to order parts, so it may be another week before I get it back.

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