Rithisak Aydelotte

Think of all the horrors that I promised you I'd bring.
I promise you.
They'll sing of every time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child.
Witness me, old man, I am the wild.

The Warrior

FULL CHOSEN NAME: Rithisak Aydelotte
NICKNAME: Rith, Riz
AGE, DATE OF BIRTH: Unknown, 29th Sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon
PLACE OF BIRTH: Golmore Jungle, Dalmasca Inferior, Othard
GENDER: Male
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
CLAN: Rava
PATRON: ---FAMILY:

  • [REDACTED]; Father. Status: Unknown.

  • [REDACTED]; Mother. Status: Unknown.

  • [REDACTED]; Sister. Status: Unknown.

  • [REDACTED]; Sister. Status: Unknown.

  • Veata Aydelotte; Sister. Status: Alive.

Walk The Path

He is the son of flames and of stone. Ironic, isn't it? Though he was born of woodland -- of trees that reached high into the skies and lush, vibrant flora that sprawled as far as the eye could see -- he possesses a fierce heart that burns at the touch. It's in the deep bellies of his laughter that ring loud in crowded rooms and the fire in his dark eyes that always yearns for more. He is not gentle and quiet as his sister is. Quite the opposite, in fact.Rithisak is violent, voracious life.Perhaps such is the reason the patience he manages is little. His many summers did not teach him such virtues as it did his people. Rather, it taught him that no matter how small the scope, life did not slow itself for others. Seeds took root. Beasts gorged themselves on prey. The Wood thrummed with life. And so too should he.So he is quick to his emotions. Quicker yet to action. There is something to be said about the faith one holds in their instincts -- a faith he thinks too few are willing to take arms with. If he hungers, he eats. If he finds himself stirred with excitement, he chases at the heels of it. If he finds good cheer in new company, he considers it a friend made whether it be tonight or tomorrow. It is a simple nature teeming with impish grins. One that might tempt less scrupulous intentions to victimize the dark-haried man. Except it should not be forgotten that he is of The Wood.There is a hunter in his blood -- a woodwarder that survived the trials of his kin to prove himself a warrior. He is as quick to anger as he is to love, and a grudge earned is not a grudge forgotten. It is carved into stone, instead. He remembers his lessons well. For despite the love he has found in the people and in the cultures that he found outside The Wood, he knows the wickedness that beguiles the hearts of men. He's spilled the blood of those that had no business in Her woods -- done worse to the men that committed a gravest sin against his.Fearless. Fearless is the word he has heard his sister repeat a thousand times before about him. Reckless, too. He doesn't disagree. But sometimes he does think she is mistaken. Sometimes he thinks there is cowardice buried deep 'neath the bravado of his boisterousness. It's not an emotion that he permits to linger long before he swallows it whole. He reminds himself that there is only forward. He is a good son that shouldered the burden of what had to be done until the last. His duties are not forgotten.

The Ire of embers

It was summertime when he came upon The Black Shroud, a woman nearly his mirror image at his heels. To question the siblings on the matter, he would quip with good cheer that their presence was little more than passing curiosities. She would answer with a quiet, melancholic smile that hinted otherwise. Some stories are not often shared. Not even when he spends his nights regaling others with outlandish tales around the campfire. Or when he's a few drinks in too deep at a seedy tavern.His sister placates them -- the locals of Gridania -- better than he. He did not fault them for it, finding familiarity in their guarded nature and knowing his adventurous nature. Even so it is more likely to find Rithisak without Veata than Veata without Rithisak. He's a wanderlust about himself that likens him better to the less conventional residents of The Black Shroud and the occasional odd job that sees him traveling the other lands of Eorzea.Sometimes he is gone for seasons at a time. Others times, no more than a handful of suns. But he always comes back -- back to a quiet home nestled 'neath the tree branches that reach for skies, back to a sister that is more content tending to hearth and people here.Often he hunts. His sister is the better marksmen between them. But Rithisak? Not even she can rival him when it comes to matters of close quarters. He's a furious storm with a lance in hand. He's better yet however when it's naught but his bare hands and snarling teeth. There's a bloodlust in those eyes that he knows better than to bring here. No, the enthrallment of his fists on flesh is better saved for willing men and coin purses looking for a spot of blood sport to pass the time.But the bloodlust doesn't make him a monster. Or, at least, not in his eyes. Because he is kindness as well. He looks after the lost little ones. Even more so those without a sire or a mother to look after them. Some jobs of need are taken without question for coin if the circumstances are right. In this regard, he has settled his roots far deeper than his sister in her silent, reserved nature. He wants. He loves. He learns.And he listens. Rithisak hoards stories of wartime whether it be in the songs of bards or by word of mouth from those that are much a stranger as him. Each stirs an itch underneath his skin, a restlessness that is preferable to inaction. He's started to become distracted, lengths of leporine ears constantly in motion. It's only when his sister calls his name -- his true name rather than the name she chose for him -- that his eyes break from the skies and he returns to himself.He thinks she knows. He hopes she understands. It is a role that can be fulfilled even then, even there. Though the Golmore Jungle's voice can no longer reach him, his love of Her is fierce and true. The duties of a Woodwarder are not lost. Perhaps it is not conventional, but he's no cares for conventional. When the time comes for it, his path shall call him forward and he shall answer.

Breathe the Dawn

WORK IN PROGRESS

His earliest memories teemed with warmth: their hand grasped in their mother's, the tickle of grass under the naked soles of their feet, the gentle murmurings of Her voice in their ear. Even then, as a kit, they'd been the rambunctious sort. Never was a moment's peace to be found in their presence. And yet despite their frequent trouble-making for the elder sisters of their village, they only remembered the love and the happiness, the genuine concern of each scolding and the patience in the lessons of their kin passed on to them.But the seeds were there even then. Even as young as they'd been.For every ilm of love they had felt for Myvatn, they felt an ilm more to breach the borders of the village -- to escape the watchful eye of the sisters and lead the other kits on an exploration of The Wood. It'd been good and well to learn of Her from the elders, but they'd hardly been content with lessons alone. Connection was not forged in words. Connection was forged in lived experiences.

Our Veins are Filled With Stories

Potential Past Connections

Potential Present Connections

Sing, Sweet Child for Your Mother Has Forgotten How

Once he and she were known by other names, in another place where the boughs of trees came together to form paths and shrines were built to honor the voice of a mother that loved their people as their people loved Her. He came to know the sisters of other villages, the brothers of wood-warders. Perhaps once, just once, he came to know a name and a face among the bordering trees of his home that he did not deem a threat. Perhaps some memories do not remain in the past.

The Driftwood and The Rift

The number of moons and suns that passed since their departure from The Wood is not counted. But there were many travels then through the lands of the Near East and the Far East. As tends to be the case, companions came and companions went. His trade, much like in current times, through it he often found himself fascinated by the stories and the fashions, the cultures of lands and people he once did not know so much as the names of.

To Be More Like You

Being that he was born of The Wood, the only language he spoke for most of her life was his mother's vieran tongue. When he and his sister left The Wood, there was a plethora of other languages to learn not only in regards to speaking, but reading and writing as well. He took the challenge with eagerness, disregarding his lack of skill as an insecurity where others would. However, one can do only so much without proper guidance and kind tutelage no matter his enthusiasm.

Rain in the Morning

Long before their feet touched shore, he knew The Black Shroud would not fill the ache in his sister's heart. But he went for her. In doing so, a small haven was carved out: one he did not understand he needed until he had it. He's been seen stalking those dangerous lands bordering the Sylphlands, and wandering the paths of The North Shroud as his sister tends to the flora. It would be hard pressed to mistake him as a spirit of the trees however after closing the distance when he's likely to strike conversation whenever curiosity passes his fancy.

The Careful Step of a Hunter

In addition to offering his talent for brutality as a guard or an escort, Rithisak offers her services as a hunter as well to provide game for those in need. Even if the need should prove more educational than provisional, or if it the mark shoud take him to the hunting grounds of other nations. Need enough however and he'll do it free of charge. Nothing, however, that's likely to displease the elementals.

Bleed to Feel Alive Again

Though there's been no shortage of fascinations and vices the dark-haired man has explored since their departure of The Wood, there is nothing that starts the heart trilling in excitement than a good, simple fight. It's rare that he's in a mood to kill. But to push his body to its limit against an opponent twice his size? Or to throw himself with reckless abandon against an unfamiliar style and unfamiliar prowess? There's sport in that. Sometimes coin too for the less scrupulous sort. It's rare -- whether he find himself victorious or finds himself dominated -- that he doesn't stumble into the night with a bellyful of laughter and a new friend if his opponent if his amicable.

Veata Aydelotte

It is almost a peculiar thing how different in nature the siblings are, and yet in the same breath it would be difficult to imagine one without the other. There is a balance navigated between her self-control and her social demeanor and his head-strong recklessness and loud charisma. Perhaps balance is why the siblings lean on one another.Relationship Status: Sister

Out of Character

Thank you for your interest!My alias is Naga and on Discord I can be reached at Naga the Manatoo#2588. I've not written in an MMO setting before, so I would be glad for someone that could help show me the ropes! That being said, as for the writing aspect of roleplay itself, I have been writing for quite a number of years now on various platforms including JCINK and Tumblr. My preference is for paragraph, and multi-paragraph with medium to heavy in terms of Final Fantasy's lore. I do admit, I love blending in lore from the other Final Fantasy titles where there is a lack of lore in-game.Discord tends to be my preference for writing as it lets me do multiple paragraphs and move at a pace that better suits my tastes. However, I am happy to schedule ahead to do scenes in-game as well if Discord doesn't work. If you'd like to see how I write, please refer to the Indie RP blog I attached in links at the bottom of the page.There is nothing in particular I am squeamish about or opposed to writing whether it's darker stories or more light-hearted encounters. I do, of course, have the standard expectations of minimal drama out of character, and the understanding that we're here to create fictional narratives. Additionally, I'm coming up to my twenty-sixth birthday, and while I am comfortable doing ERP, I don't personally like writing it just for the sake of writing it.My availability, for the most part, is scheduled at this time. However, I can always be reached on Discord. I only ask for, in return, as much patience given as I have offered.Please, feel free to DM!