The Western Highlands... what a miserable place.

The cold gnashes at any ilm of skin exposed to its whipping winds, the world at large obscured by a thick gray fog. You can't see anything solid beyond an arm's length but it seems that if you walk a few steps toward the warm glow ahead of you, there might be some respite yet.Past the howling gales you think you hear the creak of wood on metal hinges, a cough, and shouted words.> "If you stand and stare any longer, you may as well consider yourself dead!"

QUICKJUMP

The drastic change in temperature is well needed.

Warmed immediately by the crackling fire at the opposite wall, the sense of relief that washes over you is immeasurable, and you feel compelled to sit lest the comfort sweep your feet from under you.> "Drinks?"Oh, the voice from earlier. Your tired eyes lift to meet its origin—a small woman you easily mistake for an au ra, but beyond the silk spun peach hair you spy two pointed ears beneath raised horns. Her striking gaze squints toward you, diamond pupils narrowing into slits. Awaiting your answer, she wiggles the bottle in her hand for emphasis.

The sound of pouring liquid fills your ears.

With little in the way of variety, you have one of three entire options in this quaint place. Realization dawns upon you that the fire is likely the more important member of the establishment, not so much the menu.Metal heels clack across the wooden floor, soon muffled by the carpet, and a heavy mug is placed before you with a somewhat foul smelling liquid inside.> "Now why in the world were you wandering around in a storm like that? You could be doing quite literally anything else with your time and be safer."She invites herself to sit next to you, sporting a glass of something a little fancier. It seems she's considered your wallet thoughtfully.

You wish not to dwell on it.

Rolling your shoulders with a shrug, you offer your best smile in these trying times, but it only causes your company to roll her eyes.> "Right, well since I don't imagine you'll want to head back into it anytime soon, why don't you listen to a story for a while?"You're intrigued at the prospect of dinner and a show, and your head is quite empty, so you find that you don't mind the concept of a distraction.

The woman clicks her tongue, then closes her eyes.

Well into your cup, the urge to sleep grips you harsher than it had a moment ago, and you lay your head against your arms.A gentle hand strokes at your hair, or that's what it feels like, and the smoke of a fabricated dream swirls before your eyes until nothing but blackness greets you.You don't understand what's happening, but you lack the comprehension or care. It's comfortable, for now... you'll worry about it later.

PART I

There was once a time where Coerthas was green, not long ago even, that the hills and valleys sported trees and flowers and the farmlands positively burst at the seams with crops. For all that a thousand seasons of war tried to snuff out their existence, the Dravanians could not hope to burn away the pride Coerthans held for their land and the warmth its sights gave in the lulls between horde movement.They were much simpler times even then—times of a cottage, a modest garden, a happy family. Had it not been for the looming pressure of age-old fanaticism, perhaps they all could have lived out their lives uneventfully succumbing to age, never privy to more than the surface of the battle they were born into, but life was never so simple.

Among the many sects of heretic activity blossoming over the fields of the Western Highlands, one such group by the name of Shiva's Rebirth opened their arms to young Nino and her family—mother Eulette and father Theoben—in an effort to further drive their cause which had once been an innocent plea to seek peace among man and dragon.Such lofty goals were easily crushed under a multitude of failures however, and as the years carried on with little to show for all their work, honest practices and teachings grew cult-like and dangerous. Risks by members were taken to placate and tame dragons to no avail. Bodies would wind up brutalized or wholly missing, only to turn up dead with strange growths along their limbs.Ishgard's tightly kept secret was inevitably discovered by this group, much like the rest of those smeared out of existence by the Heavens' Ward for their knowing, and the blood and flesh of the fallen horde were force-fed by Shiva's Rebirth leaders to their reluctant participants. Twisting and deforming their bodies in unimaginable ways, the half-human half-dragon creatures were quickly blinded by Nidhogg's rage, set upon their own families only to be put down by the cult.The idea was planted however, and even with the endless suffering and dangers involved, Shiva's Rebirth would look upon their people as an army whether or not they followed their leader's ideals any longer. In this same vein, their eyes began to settle on the peculiar daughter of two decidedly elezen parents who began to sprout bizarre dark keratin growths along her arms, waist and brow.

PART II

"Please, I am at a loss—my sister, she—they—" a woman frantically pleaded to a man she knew well, a Knight Dragoon that Nino had known tangentially as a friend's father. The man was told of the Rebirth—their failed attempts to build an inhuman army they could control—in what felt like a futile effort to glean clarity from a third party. Ever the diplomat however, Casimir de Castellane endeavored to find a solution that would hopefully quiet their rash activities.He agreed to mediate in an attempt to see a peaceful resolution among their members, all without the overpowering discrimination that Ishgard's church instilled in its people. After a time it almost seemed as if they'd rediscovered the truth behind their group's inception, efforts made to return to an age without such detriment to their people, but their leaders did not take well to a meddler no matter his intention.So blinded by their greed and rage they were, that they'd turn upon their people in new ways unthinkable. Afraid of losing power, of admitting wrongdoing, their very leader began to drip-feed information from within their walls to the church so that Ishgard's finest might quietly cull their ranks in the name of peace and safety.With a rapid increase in disappearances, the news that eventually followed was that one of Ishgard's very own Dragoons had fallen in battle, though the details of such a battle were left intentionally ambiguous. In the wake of developing events, rumbles among the Rebirth insisted that Casimir sold them out. Ishgardians were convinced that their very own Dragoon was a fanatic, and Nino was left to draw her own conclusions alongside the grieving Lukkas, whose deceased father was now a subject of wild scrutiny.It was from this point onward that the half-elezen would go through extraordinary means to avoid the Highlands and stay within the company of those she could trust, lest she find her own predicament at fault for any further tragedies.

PART III

In the end, distance would not spare her of the endless punishment from those who she once considered family. Chosen to enact a mission they did not return from, the loss of Theoben and Eulette was hardly mourned among the Rebirth—there was work to do, after all.In her selfish effort to avoid her home and the inevitable news, Nino had unwittingly drawn attention to herself and her apparent closeness to the boy whose father by rumor had torn the Rebirth asunder. In a seemingly endless mourning, she clung to Casimir's son Lukkas as her last bastion, despondent and hurt as they'd both been by the actions of the fanatical Coerthans and their lies.Try as she might to avoid further trifle, it always seemed to find her even in quiet times. In the city's heart she was accosted, just outside the chocobo stables where the rest of her friends were cleaning their armors from training. They'd barely seen the shadows of cloaked men, the damage already done by the time their spears were in hand.Fingers curled in her hair to tear her head backwards, gnarled hands pinching her jaw to force it open. In went raw flesh, hot and foul with stinking blood, and through coughs and gags she was forced to swallow the onslaught of what she could only assume was Dravanian viscera lest she choke from the lack of air.Tears streamed down her cheeks as her screams were muffled, and in no time at all those screams would grow deeper, guttural. Releasing the girl to watch in fervor of her blooming, she threw herself to the ground and writhed in pain as her body contorted inhumanly, midnight scales swallowing up her skin and stretched her bones with sickening cracks.Larger and larger yet, the beast they made was immense and unlike the bipedal creatures many had unfortunately recalled. No, this was almost certainly a wyrm, a four-legged brute with a wide, sweeping wingspan tipped with deadly claws that scraped across the ground to gather some form of bearing for the pain that seared the beast to its core.Screeching and howling, the newborn dravanian was blindsided by a mesmerizing song it did not understand, and in an attempt to escape its present imprisonment, leathery silver webbing beat against the warm air to catch height, carrying its spindly frame in an awkward upward spiral and into a number of spires in the frantic process.As debris fell from its departure, readied dragonkillers were fired haphazardly by people unequipped to man them, an attack directly within Ishgard's walls more than unexpected given their present defenses. Inaccurate harpoon shots saw the beast fleeing successfully from the scene, but not without mangled wings."She won't go far," was the only thought Lukkas could muster in the chaos, shaking with fear and sorrow as he failed to comprehend what had just transpired. As knights apprehended the fanatics and assessed the welfare of the public, the boy could only puzzle on what he saw, and how he could possibly fix it—or worse yet, if he would have to slay his own friend.

PART IV

Life as a beast was a blur. Every so often clarity would break through the insistent burning hatred, but it was never long enough to let the creature act. Its mind swirled with pictures unfamiliar, of a world it'd never known, scaled faces it'd never met. It missed a part of itself that didn't belong to it, a sister and yet its other half. It felt driven to kill, but how many it would wonder, unable to answer itself, unable to see an end, only a dark and narrow tunnel.It would wander on until its wings could support it no longer, exhaustion seizing muscles and sending the beast crashing into a heap of itself in a field of wildflowers. From there it would lay, sometimes staring, sometimes thrashing about, but never violent, only deeply pained. Every passing moment, Nidhogg's rage would surge ever greater, and the fringes of sanity left of what was most assuredly a human began to fade into obscurity, made a slave to the Dragonsong.The days would pass to weeks and months from then like a blur of hunger and a chill that did not cease, life slipping away from the beast as the calamity's endless winter washed over the once beautiful highland. Nearly a thrall enough to be commanded to war, it would stand and pace to ward off the growing interest in revenge that trembled its muscles with rage.Almost like the strike of church bells to drive one's thoughts from erring too far, the sound of carts drew near, and with them a veritable sum of soldiers who had gained the knowledge of the Dravanian's whereabouts. How long has it been, it wondered, faded white eyes faced with a familiarity in the figure that stood before it. Tall now, clad in earned armor but with the same face—the same eyes. Amber, burning with emotions he did not understand as he swallowed his sentimentality and followed orders.

It did not take much to string up the beast, though it did protest. Like Nino it was weak, having refused to listen to the insanity that clouded its every thought even though everything had long begun to sound like a good idea. The perseverance of humanity was strong, but not quite enough to matter in the end, as there was no trust to be had in those deemed Nidhogg's own.After a time one could easily have assumed it dead, for it did not move or breathe, but a certain soldier would visit it—her—now and again, never fully dispelling his own guilt and complacence. Kept alive on a pittance of offerings, these too would fade with time as the inevitability of the war and its neverending cycle proved impossible to defeat.

PART V

When Nidhogg fell and the song ceased, so too did the beast's guise. Collapsing in on itself in a days long reversal of its draconic form, the wyvern would become a heap of scale-plated human flesh once more, left to the elements to finally pass in the peace of a silenced mind and numbed limbs.Yet even still, peace was never long lived for Nino.

Discovered not long after her body regained its humanity, Nino was ushered to the conjurers and chirurgeons on site.Every day in recovery was a rush of distant chattering, bodies being carried about from the final battle with most never to return to their posts. While her physical injuries were easy enough to treat and manage, her entire mentality had been flattened into nothingness, blank eyes meeting the ceiling and rarely ever those who came to her bedside.She had nothing, no one, even the ones who saved her did so out of a duty to their people, and she found it selfish. Selfish that she was not granted the ability to leave the world so easily, selfish that they would take pride in their rescue and deliver her back into a world full of people who did not truly care whether she lived or died.Yet, something drove her to persevere even against her own wishes, and it told her that wasting her life would be too pathetic an end for such a resilient soul.So she would rise from that cot, walk past the broken bodies and their chirurgeons into the city, and make for the bridge. She'd dealt with the arduous task of living on nothing before, she could do it again, and it would carry her beyond Ishgard's hellish grasp and into the world. To the Central Highlands and beyond, where only then would she begin life anew, inconveniences be damned.

Things are not quite as they seem.

When you lift your head from where you'd laid it, the first thing you realize is that you are very alone with racing thoughts and a trembling heart. Though a lamp burns brightly above, the fire has gone out and the establishment is no longer in service for the time being.Peeling yourself out of your heap, you stretch all your muscles and find yourself feeling well in spite of your heavy heart, and notice the wooden door has stopped rattling on its hinges.It seems all your armor and assets are in order as you paw yourself down to make sure, and past the threshold the sun greets you with its warm rays beating down from a clear sky.You recall the story you saw quite vividly, but can't remember why you know it, or to what relevance it has to you. It was a sad tale though, one of a terrifying experience and an uncertain future, and just as you've resolved to think harder on it, a gruff voice cuts the air.> "Oi, th'bloody 'ells you standin' 'round for, kid?"You resent that. You are old enough to drink responsibly, or mostly responsibly.> "C'mon, c'mon! We gots ores to get!"The man wastes not a moment longer dawdling with you, turning his wide body toward the snowy fields and the folks with carts down on the paths.Oh, right! That's why you were here! The bloody rare mythrite ore!You quickly gather your bearings and shuffle off in a hurry, lest you lose your damned job. She's still on your mind though, you can still see her clearly ...

I don't know if I learned much, but some things were obvious.

AGE: Late 20's
BIRTHDAY: 20th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon
RACE: Elezen & Au ra mixed
GENDER: Female
SEXUALITY: Bisexual

HAIR: Peach pink to her lower back, styled in a myriad of ways.
EYES: Wintergreen
HEIGHT: 5 fulms 3 ilms
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: A thin vertical scar on the right side of her mouth

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A pair of circular glasses.
COMMON WEAPONS: Chakrams, claws.
RARER WEAPONS: Lance, staff.
PROFESSION: Butcher.

BIRTHPLACE: Ishgard
RELIGION: Hydaelyn
PATRON DEITY: Halone
THEMESONG: ♫

HOOKS

✴ Nino originally lived in the Western Highlands before becoming a temple knight, and before her knighthood she contributed to her family's wheat farm. She was a warm and friendly young girl who often wore bandages on her forehead and arms.✴ She spent a few years learning conjury in Gridania post-Dragonsong war, but fares better with its offensive magicks rather than its healing arts. She was known as a problem student who itched to learn extensively of Amdapori stone magic, but due to being shut down was met with little success, according to the guild.✴ Having endured Nidhogg's song, it was quickly discovered post-recovery that she is gifted with the echo, and the gift persisted even through her transformation. As such, she has since branded herself as an adventurer, though her availability to the Eorzean Alliance & the world's plights is fleeting at best.✴ Presently works for her Free Company as their personal butcher, skinner and huntress. Preparing meats and materials for them, they afford her the lodgings she lays claim to, and you can find various skins tanning in her yard—a sickening contrast to the abundant flowers that decorate the exterior.✴ Although she participated in the reconstruction of the Firmament, she remains emotionally detached from Ishgard, only visiting out of spite toward her history with it. As her unflinching presence tends to make those who knew her uncomfortable, it brings her great joy to be around when they are, purely to watch them squirm.✴ She is immensely unpredictable and unfortunately reckless. Nosey, pushy and childish on one end and kind, accommodating and motherly on the other, never weighing too far to one side or the other for long. The only consistency with her is that she is fiercely protective of those she has considered close to her.✴ She seeks to meet and bond with other Dravanians, whether they be those who have once become beasts, or were always of the horde. Sharing in the dragons' collective dream to an extent, there remains a sibling companionship between herself and the dragons even if she cannot speak for herself in the dream. They bring emotional stability and comfort to her like true family.

Thanks for looking!

hi! my name's beau. i'm 33 and rp very infrequently.my character is unconventional, strange & generally unlikable, and it's fine if you don't want to interact with her.i'll do almost all types of rp, but i require players i do more than very surface interactions with to be 21+, and 18+ for any interactions at all.i require consent for anything major, including but not limited to: manhandling my character in any way that removes her autonomy, erp, and wounding her.all fights will be rolled on.discord is available after we've established a decent connection, but i have to stress that i am a slow writer and i burn out easily which means my scenes are few and far between.