Blackblade

The ala mhigans forgot how it feels to live in peace, after a decade of sorrow under the King of Ruin and the conquest from the Empire. Scattered, wounded, betrayed by their own desire for freedom, they fought and lost. The few that escaped the massacre had to leave what they loved behind and for Ki’eru, that was the dream of a peaceful life. At only five summers, he saw his home burning and the garleans taking away his mother, Ki’nuya, while his father dragged him to safety over the border of the Shroud. The few that had the heart to look remember how he cried for days, after reaching Little Ala Mhigo and being told she wouldn’t be there. He cried all his pain at once, under the rancorous sight of his father, until he stopped and never shed a tear again. Being a child was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

It was a life of starvation and uncertainty, with the beautiful Ul’dah always in sight, mocking the once proud people of Ala mhigo for their poverty. Death became their closest companion, ready to gnaw on the weak and turn the strong into heartless scavengers. Being the only two Miqo’te in the encampment, both Ki’eru and his father Ki’rahsa had to suffer isolation and hatred by their own people, in search for a way to vent their fear and anger on the different. They had only each other, standing alone against the world, but some people are simply not suited to be parents and Ki’rahsa was one of them, pushed by the circumstances to care only about his own survival. He taught his child to steal, to never share, to see anyone as a possible threat. He dreamed of founding his own tribe and ended up in the mud with a child he didn’t know how to care for, as it’s common use among the Seekers of the Sun to leave that task to women. Ki’eru learned how affection and approval could only be gained as reward for all the food and coin he could snatch, no matter if he had to steal from people as desperate as he was and gained the reputation of a rat, all he cared was to please his father, his only family, with the promise of a better life over the walls of Ul’dah.

It didn’t take long for Ki’rahsa to get involved with the ul’dahn criminality. He found out how managing the manpower of the refugees could be surprisingly remunerative and secretly became the contact of the Monetarists inside Little Ala Mhigo, while pretending to be a better man and helping others to find employment. With that and the few riches that Ki’eru accumulated for him, he bought access to the city and left his kid to fend for himself, after promising he would soon get money and contacts to buy his papers. Terrified, alone, without the little protection his father could give to him, Ki’eru had to endure the hardship of a life without allies, with the single mercy of being granted to stay in Little Ala Mhigo by Gundobald, that refused to give up to any youth no matter how problematic they could be. And Ki’eru turned out to be very, very problematic. The bullying he had to face became harsher and he turned aggressive, reckless, he entered his teen years knowing that the world is not the kind place his mother described. He joined the workforce, doing whatever he could to keep going, until he saw it. While working for a merchant in the Ruby Road, he saw a familiar face. Silk clothes, a well fed body, a smile he didn’t see since the time in Ala Mhigo. And two beautiful women with a toddler in their arms. Ki’rahsa did it, he made his dream of being a Nuhn come true, he only had to leave his failed attempt behind and start all anew. Ki’eru remained in the shadows, unseen, unable to do anything but watch all his father’s lies being exposed in all their cruelty, crushing what little remained of his heart.

Looking back, he might say he knew but refused to accept the truth. It was easy to read below the lines, he knew his father well enough to expect something like it, but still chose to have hope, to wait to be saved. He had to see his new and happy family with his own eyes to realize how naive he was, to put his faith into someone that sold his own people to slavery and still slept peacefully at night. He went back to Little Ala Mhigo like a dead man walking, broken, knowing what the whole situation meant to him. If his father started living in the open, it meant he was untouchable for his people, that he had all the protection he needed to live like a nobleman. It wouldn’t take long for the refugees to find out what he did. And Ki’eru knew who would pay for Ki’rahsa’s betrayal. He didn’t see any reason to escape, with no coins in his pockets and no strength to fight back. He went to the only person willed to listen and spoke out, preferring that to happen on his terms.

Gundobald saw the Miqo’te sitting in his tent, too old to be a child and too young to be a man, carefully explaining what he saw without any trace of light in his eyes. He saw the future of Ala Mhigo coming to him to die. Ki’eru was right, once their people found out what his father did, nothing would have stop them from lynching his son and if Gundobald tried to defend him, the risk of a fratricide battle was too high. It could only end in blood and Ki’eru didn’t seem to care if it was only his own to stain the dirt of Thalanan. He had no apologies to offer, a closure was all he needed. He couldn’t even find the will to seek revenge, he was just tired after a life spent struggling for nothing. An apology came, but from Gundobald: as a leader, he failed to see and act before it was too late and condemned that kid to an inglorious end. The elders ruined the future of the new generation and they could do but watch, while it burned. There was only one thing he could do. He offered Ki’eru a sack of coins and a dagger and told him to leave, to leave everything behind and start a new life, away from Little Ala Mhigo. One last parting gift.

The ship left Vesper Bay in the middle of the night and Ki’eru spent the journey in complete silence, without knowing what the next day would bring. He never went outside of Thalanan but at that point, he knew he was perfectly able to get by and adapt to any kind of situation he could find, no city could be worse than the dust of the desert. He was given a chance to build his own life, unrequested but accepted nevertheless, and saw no reason to give up that trace of hope. Before the sunrise he ripped away the prefix of his father’s fictional tribe from his name, keeping only the part that his mother gave to him. He had an entire identity to create, find a new meaning, become strong enough to not need anybody’s help ever again. It was a lot to work on, but he had time, and freedom. The sense of dizziness given by the sudden change would pass and by then, he had to start making his own life in the city of pirates.

For Thalanan the sea was a utility, something useful to get food and ship goods, but for La Noscea, the sea was life itself. Bright, endless, a living creature keeping constant watch over the shores, a beast that lominsan respected above anything else. It was the first thing he saw when his ship docked and signed his new beginning. He barely made a few steps on land, before being casually bumped by someone on the docks… and immediately realized that his coin purse was gone. He chased the thief down the markets, over the lower decks of Limsa and actually catched him, only to find himself immobilized against a wall with a dagger on his throat. The other, only a couple of years older, was calmly impressed by how that kid with barely a few muscles on his bones could actually keep up the pace with him and let him go out of respect, leaving him without a single gil a few minutes after reaching the city. They met again, a few days later, when the wild-eyed and very annoyed Miqo’te stepped in the Dutiful Sisters of Edelweiss demanding to join them. It wouldn’t have been the last time Eru and Jacke ran against each other over the decks.

Years came and went and the Strider, as Eru got soon named, found himself being a particularly talented rogue. Light on his feet, good at killing, he had the unwritten code of conduct between rogues and pirates respected and kept the money flowing for the Sisters, with a part for himself. He had food, shelter, protection from the law. It was a good life, for being a hired murderer with too much love for alcohol. A low point for some, the highest ever seen for him. It was simple, he received a target, took them down and enjoyed the pay. No fear for the future, no responsibilities. When the Calamity struck down, it found him enjoying a drink like nothing was happening, accepting anything he could not change, may it be death or survival. He already knew the sound of explosions and the screams of the dying, after all. He had a part in rebuilding the city from ashes, but for mere personal gain, as he learned to do through an unkind existence. It was still the best he knew and was determined to live it by himself until the end.

Until he dreamed himself wearing a black armor, wielding a longsword against a black-robed mage, guided by a beautiful, ethereal voice telling him to do something he stopped doing for many, many years.

To hear, feel, and think.

Eru loves everything regarding the ocean. Seafood, sailing on small boats, he will go out fishing and exploring the little islands close to land when time and weather let him. Nobody knows he collects seashells.

He was nearly illiterate for years, before taking lessons in Limsa Lominsa. Writing and reading might be basic skills for most, but he keeps them in high consideration and does his best with calligraphy, no matter how slow he is. Reading for too long will give him a headache.

Lacking formal education, he doesn’t like to be in the company of scholars and intellectuals. He’s street smart and never learned anything about staying alive in a book.

He’s a light sleeper, waking up easily and being used to irregular sleep patterns. The few times he manages to have an uninterrupted night of sleep, he will feel groggy for hours. Strong coffee and easy mornings are advised..

Don’t call him coward and don’t compare him to his father. You might die.

Being among traditionally living Seekers might make him feel inadequate. He knows nearly nothing of his ethnic background, the traditions and uses, he’s weirded out by the patriarchal society his people live in. In a Seeker’s eye, he might seem more a Hyur than a Miqo’te.

He had to learn to control his natural body language and normal cat-like behaviour out of fear of being picked on. He won’t purr or hiss, he will force himself to not move his ears and tail when nervous or happy, unless around people he trusts. Or being just very, very angry.

Problems with alcohol are what happens when a very emotive person has to suffocate their feeling and Eru makes no exception. He will get angry before even realizing he's hurt and will soothe himself with the worst rum he can find.

Any kind of edible food is good food, he won’t complain for low quality or lack of flavours if it means his stomach will be full. He can cook, but won’t lose much time on fancy recipes.

Sea shanties. That is all. Eru is not a singer but his lungs are strong and that’s all he needs. One might even say it’s a form of connection with strangers for him, a way to not feel alone but nah, he will say it’s just for fun.

Winter is bad, summer is good. He thrives in high temperatures and hates snow.

“You have my sword.”
As a Dark Knight, Eru is more than glad to intervene when the constituted order fails to protect people, at the cost of getting his hands dirty. May it be bandits, voidsents or dragons, if the knights in shining armor refuse to get rid of the problem he will, for the right price. His service doesn’t come for cheap but if you need someone to watch your back in a dangerous journey, avenge a tragedy, or get help when everybody else turned their back at you, he’s your man.

“You have good manners, for a thief and a liar.”
Eru wasn’t always a good man and that bleeds in his life even nowadays. The Strider is still well known in Limsa Lominsa as one of the best cutthroats of the Rogue’s guild, the bane of any pirate reckless enough to break the code. He still has contacts among the people that coexist with the military of the city-state to keep it clean and functioning, no matter how many laws get broken in the process, so you might know him if you’re in the criminality of La Noscea. Just hope to be on his good side.

“Deep roots are not reached by the frost.”
Eru has little to no knowledge about his own culture. His father never passed much of the Seeker’s traditions to him and Little Ala Mhigo barely held together its own people, leaving little room for the gyr abanian culture to be transmitted to the youngsters. If you’re a Seeker from Gyr Abania, you might have heard about those two dreamers of his parents, crazy enough to try to build their own tribe in the city-state of Ala Mhigo. He might be interested in knowing more about his homeland and culture, in general.

“To the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe.”
It’s no surprise that the day of the mercenary often ends in a tavern. Eru tends to find relief from the hardships in a bottle of cheap rum and the company of strangers, unafraid to forget about their faces and names the day after. You might find him in the lowest of these places, drinking away the pain and willing to share a round or two, even better when offered by you.

“Courage is found in unlikely places.”
Eru can’t write and read well, that is a sad truth he tries to hide as best as he can. He generally despises academics and scholars in general since they tend, inadvertently or not, to make him suffer this lack of skill. It might take a lot of bravery from him to swallow his pride and face the problem, but there’s a chance he might ask for basic lessons from someone that won’t judge him for not having a formal education. If you’re good at this, he might even enjoy the process.

“The wise speak only of what they know.”
Training is always a good thing to do, during peaceful times. Eru can often be found keeping himself in good shape and practicing swordplay, between a mission and another. It’s generally a solitary activity for him, but he might tolerate a companion once in a while to make the training more interesting. If you’re aware of what you’re doing, he might even accept to introduce you to the dark path and he will make sure to test your determination to the core, since he really doesn’t want your death on his conscience. Be prepared to beated, badly.