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Reymanaud Farrand

Name: The Viscount Farrand, Ser Reymanaud Abelard, Lord of Ardenny
Age: 33
Race: Ishgardian Elezen
Height: 6 fulms, 7 illms
Birthplace: Farrand Manor, Ishgard
Current Residence: Farrand Manor, Ishgard, with a suite in Ul'dah perpetually available to him through the generosity of Ser Caedenal Almasi.
Temperament: Extroverted, curious, and classically chivalrous, though a victim of certain vices, vanity being far from the least of them. The Viscount appears always prepared to discuss his deeply considered views about religion.
Skills: Reymanaud is versed in all traditional Ishgardian arts of war, including longbow archery, jousting, and the Elezen arts of sword and shield. He has taken up some study of thaumaturgy - to remain ahead of Machinist's Guild-equipped commoners - and carries a rapier modelled after Elezen craft of eld. He is a strong rhetorician and has become obsessed with history and geography as a man of state. He is otherwise a fine sportsman, including in jousting, hunting, archery, and falconry.
Occupation: Peer of the House of Lords
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Religion: Halone (Idiosyncratic and unorthodox, though he attends services.)
Affiliations: Ishgardian House of Lords, Ishgardian Committee of Foreign Affairs, House Fortemps

Long did he live in the shadow of his father, the gloriously slain Ser Garionaux the Viscount Farrand, who fell defending his knights from a great dragon at the walls of Castle Farrand, placed to defend a flank of House Fortemps's Camp Dragonhead. The great portrait of his image, drawn just before his death, had hung at the center of Castle Farrand's foyer, and ever did friends, family, and all his sworn swords speak highly of his honor and his piety.Because of this he was brash, and eager to prove his chivalry, as much the spitting image of Ul'dah's boastful Paladins of eld as the knights of the Holy See, and his mother ensured that he received the finest tutelage to be bred as one of the finest of men. The War was hard, when he came to it; long years in Camp Dragonhead, gazing over the battlements, losing friends, losing his first love, Ser Arthurioux - and he would not find another for many years. But it was all for valor, and glory, and honor, and his men-at-arms followed him as if he were one of the Knights Twelve returned.And then did the Dragonstar flare, and then did the Warrior come - and having come to slay dragons, that Warrior struck down the entire Song of Ishgard, and none could, at ease, call him a liar.The Revolution came and went, and Reymanaud was hardly the man to refuse representative government; noblesse oblige, as he felt quite intuitively, and he would serve his country in that way. But the new Alliance, and the new airships broadened his horizons - he partook in forest nights, the lull of quiet waves and distant seagulls, and all the delights that gil could buy.The Garlean War was a godsend, a new conflict that all the Ishgardian nation could stand behind - the Fury's Spear leading the charge of the world against a most godless Empire. Having done his part in arms, Reymanaud found himself at the head of foreign policy matters, and obsessed over them night and day.But it was a cruel obsession, and that War was not like other wars. The tales told of the Ghimlyt Dark were food for nightmares, far more than the Horde ever was. And who was Reymanaud to command from the homefront, while the new blood perished under thunder and the black?And then what was there to do, now that the War was won? First, to mourn a dutiful and pious sister, Mother Judithe Reinette de Farrand, with whom he had shared a womb. When the Archbishop fell, she had fully endorsed a Reformation of the Church, notwithstanding her opposition to the privileges of the nobility - for did the laws of the Church not say that all were equal under Her ever watchful gaze, of the Fury's love all Men would receive, and would not all be set free by the balance of Her Spear? Alas, the fate of that bright and fiery woman was doom, when came the Final Days; her faith lost that never a true Enchiridion could be fetched out of antiquity, all the achievements of her life turned to ash, she gave into Despair. Long did Reymanaud mourn, despite their differences.And what else for Ishgard to do when, at the very moment Eorzean learning had practically killed the Gods, that the Fury's Ruth graced the Three Continents at last?Would it just be merriment, would it just be vice? Would the Commons overtake the Lords, the aristocracy abolished as a relic, and all history of great men brought to an end?He determined that he would not balk. He would still be a warrior without peer, a lord of magnanimity, learning, and culture, and by his example, he prayed, the greatest Nation on the Star would thrive. In arts of war, in arts of song, in arts of learning, in arts of building, in discipline, and in honor, it would be the Star's greatest ornament, and he would lead the way.His mother, Lady Celine née Evrard, once among the more formidable learned minds of the Inquisition, vanished some turns thereafter. The family - what remains of it, Reymanaud and nephews of his father - does not discuss the circumstances, despite the most cruel rumor that Celine had spent too long in the Inquisition's archives and fallen into evil.Yet the turns since have made his resolution a stranger thing than restoration. For Reymanaud no longer believes that the old Church can simply be repaired, nor that some true Enchiridion waits beneath the false one like a reliquary beneath the snow. If the priests had lied, he reasoned, then Ishgard must discover what had existed before their lies — the War-Wife Fury before the theologians had softened Her, the mountain before the cathedral had enclosed it, and the nation before scripture had learned to explain it.Such meditations have not made him peaceful. They have made him foreign. After increasingly eccentric interventions in the House of Lords, the Viscount departed Ishgard for Ul'dah, whether upon his own inclination or at the gentle suggestion of men relieved to see him go. There he rented a residence to flee charges of taking politics too seriously and discovered that a Southern city may be more interesting than Southern thinking; a most fortuitous reunion with a former friend of the battlefield, Ser Caedenal Almasi, brought camaraderie and financial stability.Of his private life little enters the minutes of the House. In Ul'dah, however, he has been seen often in the company of Madhava Bhaduri, a young Hannish artist come the Sultanate, toward whom the Viscount publicly displays a peculiar combination of studied courtesy and obvious fascination which becomes less convincing the harder he attempts to disguise it.

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Zazarito Momorito

Name: Zazarito Momorito
Age: 25
Race: Dunesfolk
Height: 3 fulms
Birthplace: Steps of Thal, Ul'dah
Current Residence: Almasi Manor
Temperament: Always quick-witted, sociable, worldly, and occasionally callous; his old decadence has survived ordination better than his old synicism.
Skills: Thaumaturgy, political subterfuge, and crafty lawyering; he is possessed also of the clerical gift for making an alarming proposition sound self-evident by the conclusion.
Occupation: Bishop of the Order of Nald'Thal
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Religion: Cult of Nald'thal
Affiliations: House Almasi, Ul'dahn Royalists

Zazarito Momorito, a second son of a mercantile house of great prosperity and regard in the Sultanate, once seemed determined to bring that clan to its ruin; heedless of moneymaking principles, couched in material security, uninterested in financial scheming in favor of idle and oft-vicious court gossip and debauchery, he went through life without purpose except to party like the world was ending. The teachings of the state religion on the accumulation of virtue for comfort in the next life fell empty on his ears, and truly he questioned whether there stood the Twin Judges at the end of life.There happened one fateful day, the morning after a disastrous night at the Platinum Mirage, that Lolorito Momorito had enough of his dissolute son, and having heard rumour of his drunken, anti-Royalist ravings to all who had listened, disowned Zazarito on the very spot. Threatening to forever withold his support and Zazarito's inheritance if disregarded, Lolorito sent him to the Order of Nald'thal to be utterly reformed in mores and character and to provide for him a proper career and eventual path into the Divan in service to Traders, Sultana, and country.For two years Zazarito suffered indignity after vicious indignity with complaint and dragging feet, and always he pined for lost days in the sun of Costa del Sol, in the debaucherous halls of the upper Ul'dahn crust, and hungover risings long past the dawn of day. Slowly, however, and if at jumps and starts and not steadily, he began to heed the teachings of the Order, came to see the occasional merits of charity, if not for the sake of others but to further the flow of gil and capital throughout the Sultanate. He learned to see everything in the Balance; he learned even to pray with conviction. Since being ordained as a priest, oft now he regrets the dissolute and careless life he once led, and sometimes he is even patient in the face of mockery.

Zazarito is currently a close spiritual advisor of the powerful Almasi family, guiding them on matters of state and religion while coordinating their good relations with the Order. While he prefers the pursuit of thaumaturgy over the difficult work of reviewing, writing, and enforcing the laws of the Sultanate, the day came and went that he eagerly embraced the will of his father and achieved what others had dismissed as impossible. In the end, he is more a disciple of Saint Adama Landama than those who would empty their coffers to all Men - the Traders favor the cunning, and not the foolish.He is certainly no longer a Monetarist. Is not the Sultana the exalted vessel of Nald'thal?

"Time is money, is wealth, is virtue. Squander it not," as the Order has long taught. These are the words he now lives by.The revelations of recent years, which unsettled not a few learned priests throughout Eorzea, disturbed Zazarito very little. If the Firmament proved vaster than the ancients imagined, he concluded that the ancients had simply imagined more truly than their descendants understood. Having once entered the Order because he missed his father's gil, the Bishop has since acquired a certainty that Nald'thal anticipated astronomy, natural philosophy, political economy, most other things worth knowing, and the Most Exalted Vessel herself.

The following sermon, published as a treatise on religious interpretation, may be familiar to pious Ul'dahns and foreign religious scholars:"Eternal Truths"His public political views have made him less welcome among certain proletarian circles than a quieter thaumaturge may have been:"On Democracy"

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Madhava Bhaduri

Name: Madhava Bhaduri
Age: 21
Race: Hannish Hyur
Height: 5 fulms, 7 ilms
Birthplace: Radz-at-Han
Current Residence: Ul'dah
Temperament: Soft-spoken, curious, affectionate, and acutely observant; he seldom presses himself upon a room, but usually leaves having understood more of it than the room understood of him.
Skills: Dance, song, painting, poetry, courtly conversation, and the cultivated reading of mood and character expected of a Hannish artist raised among courtesans.
Occupation: Dancer and artist, presently abroad under Hannish patronage.
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Religion: Hannish Tradition, with a particular devotion to Minduruva and Daivadipa. He has never regarded religion as a matter separable from art, custom, beauty, or the ordering of ordinary life, and therefore finds certain Eorzean arguments over whether the gods “exist” somewhat difficult to comprehend.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Madhava's life was no difficult one, before the Final Days. True, his parents perished when he was but a child - one the victim of a poisoning, the other a fallen soldier of the Radiant Guard - but he was taken in by an aunt, a dancer and courtesan, who saw his potential and educated him in all matters of art and society. He was comfortable, and like most Hannish children, he had faith in the gods. His friends were kind, his prospects good, and many dancing troupes - even the international ones that journeyed to faraway lands to perform the Kriegstanz - all had their eyes on his growth.Of the Final Days, the less said, the better - all his adopted family destroyed itself, and of his friends, but one survived. That he danced the Kriegstanz in practically every waking moment, at least when any beast was beneath the All-Seeing Eye, may indeed be how he himself survived the terror. In its wake, he was still too young to understand what it meant to survive others. In his heart of hearts, he dreamed of flight, far away, though he felt guilty about it. He was not the only one who suffered.But he had held good conversations with and made good impressions upon the visiting dignitaries from the West and East when all the nations had arrayed their arms against extinction, and his curiosity about the wider world grew each day. For some time he continued to honor the gods at Kadjaya's Footsteps, but in the low hours of the night, over tea, he would warmly interrogate foreign visitors on their nations' mores and arts. His name was whispered in high places, and one day he was summoned up the steps of Meghaduta, and he spoke with learned men. It was decided that he would go across the sea, funded by the government of the dragon royal, to learn the arts of Eorzea to one day bring them home.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~My Sister Vaidehi, who I am missing and wishing well always,Rarely it rains here, but the sound is not quite right. Troubles here in the West are thought to be troubles without meaning, demons to be overcome. It patters softly, duly upon the sands and trickles from the rooftops to the pale streets, and thunders into the grates. These men know Minduruva in their souls, never forgetting Her completely as they grab for Sanduruva, though always they are fearing that She will slip away. Cinduruva, I am finding, appears in the souls of certain people, but most do not know Her.When first I was finding myself in this city, I found all its art pale imitations - it is a pale place, its buildings like the endless sands waiting outside its walls to reclaim it, with only their roofs wine-dark like the ocean they cannot see, or the black night graced by moonlight. Its patterns and its alchemy are not the same, and I may have thought they did not know all the colors of the gods if not for their garb, which the wealthy are always paying too much for, nor do they understand why they are doing so. When they dress, they dress for themselves, and to impress others - to live with the gods is not a calling their ears have heard.And yet there are times when the pale sands and streets and walls shine radiantly, and Daivadipa sees the good. There are times, I am finding, that my mind, and eyes, and heart feel clearer for it. The sadness comes from seeing that most here do not see it, for they cannot, as the light is not in their eyes. They say that Divinity is the color of gold, so obsessed they are - and believing so, they can see no other shade as divine.The idols of their god who is two gods are mirthless, unfailingly dark, staring stern, holding ewer and sword like angry judges, and one begins to see why the Ul’dahns behave as they do when trading at Radz-at-Han.I must observe that the West has done something we have not in our arts, and the difference is worth considering. There are portraits here, not originating in Ul’dah but far to the north, in the Elezen nation of Ishgard, that so capture the images of people and places that one believes it is no painting at all, and can reach out and touch their face, or the wine, or the trees. I am deciding whether those Elezen understand Minduruva truly, but I am not dismissing them when I say so.Also - I think the word you are looking for, that Aunty would already be saying, is “deflating,” but then she would go about inflating, as always she could, no matter how many needle-holes she found.I am growing attached to a certain man here, an Ishgardian, who I confess is who brought my attention to his people’s arts. I am finding that they are a fervent and bold people, to be expected from their wars, but for it they have produced the most remarkable things. When I am most open to him, I suppose that Cinduruva has taught them a cruel wisdom, that they might work wonders seen nowhere else on the Star. He is highborne, and believes himself to be, and not all he says, I am finding, is wise - but he is kind to me, and thoughtful, and in his own way worldly in that he is interested in the world, and why he is here. He is also most, most handsome - mayhaps I say all these things because I am always being captured by him.I am missing you always, and I hope that through these words you feel my spirit as if we sat across from each other, with our tea. I am always wondering very, very deeply about what you are doing, whether you still go where we went, by yourself or with someone else, or when the last time was that you knew something new at the temple, or who is blessing you. I am very much hoping that when it rains, it does not rain on you.I am unhappy always because I am away, but happy always because I am well-treated despite these people’s short-sightedness.My heart longing,Madhava

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OOC Information

Thank you for your interest in my library! I am a US EST roleplayer (M, 27) with 13+ years experience in MMOs, including WoW, TSW, SWTOR, GW2, FFXIV, and ESO. (Every time I change that number...) I very much prefer to RP in-game, but we can work something out on Discord if necessary. (@Farendaire) My usual times are late evenings during the week with variable availability on weekends. I am a law student, so I might go dark for a while every now and then.I tend to mirror my RP partners in one on one and try my best to keep posts to a paragaph in group settings. I assume the real passage of time in-game from launch, so if something in my dating seems wrong, please let me know!I'm very much open to playing a scene that takes place in the in-game's past - for example, before the events of 3.0 when it comes to my Ishgardian characters, including Reymanad's now-passed immediate family.I will not agree to permanent character injury or death, but I would be willing to consider a redshirt if the opportunity ever comes up. I am not open to ERP.