FFXIV Swap Discord

Pre-MSQ

Scoria was born and raised in Ul’dah by parents who immigrated from Kugane during the empire’s invasion. While never having seen her home or the village in which her father was raised, much of the food and culture still found its way into her house, with some adaptations in relation to what the Ul’dah market has to offer. Her father finding his foothold in Ul’dah through goldsmithing, making quiet the name for himself. Her mother, a financial advisor to the lords who call Ul’dah home. Together, Scoria never wanted for much, outside of just her parents attention. They were often away from home, leaving her to her own devices even at a young age, often being raised by those who tended to her home or her tutors. She never had much in the way of friends, but found comfort in her craft. In an attempt to secure her future and possibly helping her find her way to be a part of the Ul’dah council in the future, her parents set her up with an art tutor from a very young age, as soon as they noticed she had an interest in the craft. The walk was decently far from their home, but it came to be a well loved part for her, as it helped awaken her love for running.

Scoria would often jog or run to her lessons, working out any of the days emotions in her footsteps. The worse the day, the faster she ran. This helped with the other part of her life her parents paid careful attention to: her appearance. As a back up plan, her parents wanted her to be as well kept as possible to secure a husband in higher power one day as she got older. They taught her the importance of self care and how best to present herself so that others may look on her with envy. Because of the strange pigmentation on her scales from her fathers linage, they felt they had to make up for it as best they could with other parts of her appearance. For a long time, she had beautiful long flowing hair that curled similar to her mothers.

The only positive moments she can think of in her memory with her parents were the days they would go to the sands together. Her mother especially loved the blood sands and would often point out her favorite fighters in the matches. There was always much bonding over this and her father would take her out for shaved ice after as a treat. Because of this, Scoria has a large love of fighting and watching others fight, but its a secret held close to her chest. She cant let herself look like someone who likes things like this and building muscles would make her look too manly to be desirable.

As she got older, her parents became harsher and harsher about this, seeing that her art had yet to make a sizable profit and that she had not yet secured a wealthy husband. They presented these things in a way of genuine concern for her future, but it stung none the less.

After a particularly bad fight with her father over such topics, he cast her out from their home, banishing her and telling her not to come back. Her mother was devastated, but had to support his wishes. Having no survival skills, Scoria struggled on her own for a while, trying to pick up odd jobs here and there to keep herself fed, but she thinned regardless, occasionally having to rummage for food that had been cast into bins in the Ul’dah market place. Even during this time, she managed to keep herself looking presentable, to any outsider you’d have never guessed she was homeless and never let on that she was to anyone who she spoke with. With that said, her long hair often reminded her of her mother and in her rage against her inaction, she cut it off. Leaving it disheveled and scrappy, like the pigments on her scales.

It was one day that she met a young mi’quote named Alha, covered head to toe in what she assumed to be paint. Scoria saw much potential in his craft, but also noticed how little he cared about the profit that he could easily be making. It was then she took it upon herself to help put his name out there, get people looking at his art, and in exchange, getting a roof over her head at his apartment.

It was a day like any other when she heard whispers of a voice calling out to her. As it just so happened, she had saved up enough money to buy her first staff. A knotted and mangled thing, but with the little income she and Alha were pooling together to live in the heart of Ul’dah, adventuring sounded like the easiest answer. She was not strong, purposely so, but always had some skill for white magic, even as a small child, often healing the wings on harmed birds and bugs. She had heard of the conjurers guild out in Gridania and made pilgrimage out that way, taking her first steps to make a name for herself. It was as she hitched a ride on a passing cart when she heard it first. A womans voice, faint, distant. Telling her to hear, feel, think.

A Realm Reborn

Gridania inspired her in ways she never anticipated. Much of her painting was usually focused on people, but the lush forests and flowers of the land inspired her, so much so she would take every spare moment she could to paint the vistas.

During this time, she met many people and did her best to help ease their day to day woes. Initially, in the name of profit. Most folks offered some form of coin for her efforts, so she helped every soul that she could come across in order to make as much as possible. It was this that lead her eventually to the scions, finding likely gains in helping them in their adventures. She had no idea what this would eventually lead up to.

It is also here that she meets Lizzy Calaxio for the first time. Wandering the knotted woods of the land, she found herself lost and poisoned by morbols It was then that a curious au ra who spoke in a way she’d not heard before found her (using lots of “this one” and “That One”s), leading her safety and tending to her wounds. It was later that she discovered her vernacular was a result of having such close ties to the Sylphs. She learned much about the way the wood worked with her and even more about honing her conjuring abilities, though she did eventually pass this task on to the conjurers guild.

Scoria often found herself forced into situations where she was not capable enough to handle the task at hand. Fighting the beasts of the world, least of all primals, was a daunting task. To her dismay, she often had to lean on the strength of others, providing in more of a support roll. She failed, often, to do the missions she ventured out to do, but she never gave up. Inspired by the strength of those around her, she would press on, becoming stronger herself every time.

It is also during these events she would meet Cemi’tan, or Cemi the Titan. A long favorite of hers in the blood sands. She went to many shows, realizing slowly more and more she actually preferred the heels in the fights. One day, she some how managed to catch his attention, which resulted in him mocking in the middle of his fight, posturing and posing all the while. This brought fury, embarrassment, and (and she would never admit this) some physical interest. Deeply red, she confronts him after his match, demanding an apology for his lack of professionalism. He of course, being Cemi the titan and still acting as his persona, treats her as the Titan would hearing this confrontation. By continuing to mock and dismiss her, but clearly also flirting.

After some time, and much bonding and discussion between the two, he agrees to train her. Seeing she has much to learn and grow as far as raw strength is concerned, he teaches her the basics of being a red mage, because of her natural affinity towards magic. He also gets for her the first rapier she owned.

Being the champion of eorzia does little for her esteem, as most of her success was on the backs of countless others. She doesn’t understand why she is a warrior of light, why someone as weak as she was picked.

After the “death” of Nanmo, a figurehead she heavily looked up to, fleeing to Ishgard, Scoria felt herself slumping into a depression. The friends she had from Ul’dah she could no longer see and the friends she made with the scions had all died, only being left with Tataru and Alphenaud, whom she had yet to grow incredibly close to.

The primary skill used during this time would have been white mage:

Taught some basic healing by her mother who was a well known healer in her area, White magic came most naturally to Scoria and was what she relied on in the earliest parts of her travels. Not being very physically strong, she used it almost as a crutch as she bumbled her way through the primals plaguing Eorzea, often relying on the strength of others to push her through fights. Encountering Lizzy while lost in the wilds of Gridania, she taught her some basic’s about being a conjurer. While this did help guide her, she still struggled through most encounters.

She grew to resent her white magic and sought other ways to protect herself on the battle field, though, this was an uphill battle, as she had no real combat experience. It wasn’t until much later in her time on the first where she discovered the true strength of white magics, bolstered by the mass of light entering her from the flood. It was this point where she fell back in love with her roots and looked at it more as a tool in her toolbox rather than a weakness.

Heavensward

The cold of Ishgard is more than she can take. Be it because of her blood line or just how her body works, the cold penetrates her much deeper. She often would bundle in several several layers just to keep warm. Even the people seemed cold and distant, often talking about their strong hate of the dragons. The first warmth she felt was in the mug that Haurchefant handed her. His kindness would not be overlooked in such an unforgiving place.

As she did so many times before, Scoria set out to ease the woes of the people and soldiers of the land, once again for coin. Their issues, so deep rooted, so blood soaked, only added to the depression she found herself sinking into.

On one of these missions, she found herself traveling during a blizzard with little in the way of supplies or rations. She did her best to build a small shelter from fallen snow in this storm, but to no avail. The cold overtook her, and she passed out, hypothermia setting in. She awoke to a large, grizzled hrothgar name Kahdan who happened upon her while he was traveling. She had been completely changed out of the clothes she’d been wearing and was covered in blankets near a warm fire. He greeted her with a cup of something hot and incredibly bitter and medicinal. He insisted this would help with the terrible cold she’d gotten. While it tasted disgusting, she found it warmed her through to her very core. She learned of his history as they sat by the fire, or what little he would tell. He gave her some basic information as well as to how best survive the harsh cold of Ishgard. She felt a strong bond with him, asking if they could remain in contact. Through out her time, he would often find himself at her side, though, only ever to her benefit, as he no longer had any interest in soldiering for causes anymore. This would also eventually be the man she’d marry. (post dawn trail)

Eventually, there came a time where she traveled with Alphenaud, Ysayle, and Estinien. While she held some reservations about Ysayle, worried she could turn on them at any moment, it was Estinien who got under her skin the most. The way he spoke of dragons infuriated her, more than what she had already heard from the people of the land. It was his attitude and self righteousness that bothered her deepest. She informed him of her heritage, that her people believe they themselves come from powerful dragons, to which he mocked. It was the result of many a campfire debate, she and Ysayle often both teaming up against him with Alphenaud doing his best to be the middleman.

To add to her depression, as Estinien both described them and showed her them in person, they looked far different than what she had heard in stories and saw in the tapestries of her home. Ysayle would do what she could to bolster Scorias spirit, but the damage was done. In her mind, he was right, there is no way that her peoples could be from such creatures.

Over time, camp fires changed from cold harsh nights of bitter talks to warm and inviting, often telling jokes and stories around it to one another while trying to brave the wilderness. Through this time, to her dismay, she felt the fluttering of interest in the man who had given her such grief. A feeling she pushed down into the deepest corners of her mind. Though, after seeing him change his armor one night at camp, when he thought none were around, made this that much harder to accomplish.

Scoria took a deep interest and care in the plight of the dragons, wanting nothing more than man and the ones she once believed to be kin to settle this long blood war. She also found herself bounding with Aymeric, who’s kindness and charm was so quick to quell any anxieties she had. Though, conflict turned inside of herself. Was her interest in his friendship of her own volition, or was this still the will of her parents, deep down, wanting her to find someone of high standing to marry her. These warring emotions caused her to, while not ignoring him, keep some emotional distance, as she could not trust even her own judgment.

When Estinien was possessed by Nidhogg. Scoria was overcome with grief, not wanting again to lose such a close friend. The moment in which she and Alphenaud had to pull the eyes from his armor, it took every ounce of her strength. Flashes of both Nidhogg and Estiniens pain and rage filled her mind, the vengeance and bloodshed. Holding the eye in her hands, even for the brief time she did, the aether in it swirled with her own, streaking the once brilliant light blue color with black and red. A power she noticed coloring her red mage spells each time she tried to use it there after. Possessing the memories of Nidhogg in her mind, while not giving her power in the way Estinien has it, pushed her existing potential. She would take advantage of this, using her new found power to further hone her sword play, even over time finding she had more muscle tone than ever before.

While in bed, mending from the fight, renouncing his name as Azure Dragoon, Estinien apologized to her, for the harsh words to her about her beliefs. Though she appreciated it, she told him more than anything, it was important for her to realize the truth. That she was no more related to dragons than any other person. Not to say he was off the hook entirely, she restated he was fairly shitty to her, but that it was eye opening none the less, even if it hurt.

The main job she would have used at this time would be Red Mage:

A secret love of Scoria’s was always the fights on the blood sands in Ul’dah, growing up and watching match after match with her parents. Her favorite heel, Cemi the Titan, who she’d been a long time admirer of, she became friends with and share with him her insecurities about her strength. Noticing her affinity for white magic and her total lack of strength, he felt a good stepping stone would be Red Magic and even (in a very domineering and heel-ish way, tossing it on the ground at her after besting her in combat) gifted Scoria her first rapier. Despite his non-nonchalant and demeaning disposition, the sword had clearly been hand crafted specifically for her.

She created a “Heel-Sona” for herself. Smooth and smug, dawning a set of circular, red, sunglasses (which were secretly also prescription grade as she is blind as a bat), she called herself “Drake” for her time in the coliseum.

It was through this that Scoria found some ability to make her way through the dragonsong war. Touching the Eye of Nidhogg when attempting to remove it from Estinien’s body corrupted her aether with that of the wyrm’s, filling her with all his years of rage and hate. Scoria, never experiencing such feelings in this way, tried to channel it through her red mage magic, but this was not effective and often resulted in her accidentally injuring herself or her comrades.

Even after learning to channel this magic through dragoon, she still enjoyed the color it gave her aether and uses a bit of it while using her ‘Drake’ persona to give her more of an ominous glow.

Stormblood

During her time at the Azim Steppe, she met many Xaela tribes. It was exciting, at least at first. Seeing so many who looked just like her in one place, eating foods she knew and wearing clothes she had seen. But the more time she spent there, the more she realized how different she was even from them. The foods, while some what familiar, tasted so different than the ones she had at home. Their language and the huge variety of cultures there confused her. It was disheartening, to feel like she had found a piece of herself, only to realize how little she had in common with the values and culture of the peoples of what was supposed to be her homeland.

Her battles with Zenos, while a struggle, proved to her how far she had come. All she had learned from both Cemi’tan and Estinien to hone her powers proved useful. She had gained not just physical muscle mass, but dexterity and skill like she’d never had before, thanks to both her teachers and the aether she’d taken on from Niddhogg.

The main job Scoria would use during this time would be Dragoon:

Corrupted by Nidhoggs aether, Scoria often would be doing simple tasks, sitting at home, reading the paper, and objects around her would explode in a cloud of red. Specifically, while at the hide out, she once exploded one of Tataru's kettles on accident, invoking her wrath.

She was plagued with migraines and flashes of the hate and rage of the wyrm. Visions and feelings about dragons or people she’d never met, as well as some she had, namely Estinien.

After returning from Kugane and to Ala Mhigo, the problem only grew and Scoria sought out the one person who knew Nidhogg best: Estineien himself. After some long talks and begging (and some harassment from Tataru) he agreed to help her channel this rage. It was through this she grew to understand him more as a person and in turn, herself.

It was through Dragoon that Scoria finally found her true strength. It felt almost natural to her, channeling the energy of dragons and releasing it on her opponents on the battlefield. She felt swift and powerful, almost unstoppable. It was through this that she finally found a love of fighting and challenge, no longer the meek woman she once was. Her tall frame now posed to give her an advantage, having the strength to back it up.

Shadowbringers

Her battles with Zenos, while a struggle, proved to her how far she had come. All she had learned from both Cemi’tan and Estinien to hone her powers proved useful. She had gained not just physical muscle mass, but dexterity and skill like she’d never had before, thanks to both her teachers and the aether she’d taken on from Niddhogg.
ShB

By this point in the story, Scoria is a fully capable fighter. Powerful, incredibly so. There isnt a problem she cant solve with her blade or spear and she loves fighting more than ever. It drives her forward and fills her with passion. While he was terrifying, memories of her fights with Zenos drive her to find newer and stronger challengers, though, most of these thoughts would be kept to herself.

The stress and strain, however, of being the Warrior of Light (and now darkness) had taken its toll on her. All those of this world and her own looked to her to save them and not themselves, it was often more than she could take and felt no one could really understand what she was going through, even her closest companions. That was until she started having visions of Ardbert.

She was embarrassed and flustered at first having Ardbert everywhere with her, but she grew accustom with it and often enjoyed mulling over ideas with him. After he is fully absorbed into her soul, she still finds herself chatting with him, swearing she can still see and hear him in her minds eye. He quickly became someone she looked at as her best friend, relying on him for advice or help in most parts of her life.

While on the first, after being filled with so much light that she nearly became a sin eater, Nidhoggs rage and anger finally dissipated. There was so much white aether, it completely burned out any trace of him left inside her, transforming her dragoon gear and lance a brilliant white and brass color.

During this time, her main job would have been Dark Knight:

Ardbert after melding with Scoria’s soul would often stay up at night talking to her. Because they were essentially a part of each other, she would confide her deepest, darkest, fears to him. Sometimes willingly, sometimes because he would find himself wandering in her dreams, unable to escape them. He realized her deep seeded fears about her own inadequacy. That she felt ill-equip to be the savior of not only his world, but her own. That she was tired of always being everyone’s hero. That she missed the days of painting in her flat with her room mate Alha, when she was no one. She even had some resentment for her friends and the common folk for relying on her so much.

He helped show these subconscious thoughts to her. He brought them to the forefront, but did not shame her for it, explaining how he went through something very similar and how the hate that his own people felt for him harmed him even after his death. Ardbert guided her to his own dark knight stone, buried and gone from the eyes of others. He had her learn how to channel these dark thoughts and feelings into fighting. Taking the resentment she felt deep in her heart and turning it into a shield to protect herself and others.

While these feelings never truly left, understanding them more did help. She would talk more openly about these problems with those she loved and found that she had to carry much less burden that way, literally and figuratively.

Endwalker

She finds herself relating more to meteion than normal, not just because of empathy, but because of how much she reminds her of herself. From her color to the wings on the side of her face, to her strong emotions, and to the loneliness she feels. Meteion reminds Scoria of herself as a child. Forced into situations she never asked to be in, all the weight of the world and her parents pushing down on her. Meteion cracked, overwhelmed with the existential dread of the universe in one so inexperienced. Killing her felt like stabbing and maiming her inner child, but she had no choice. Her friends and loved ones gave up their very essence to get her that far. And all the homes of all the worlds would be nothing but a sea of blood and carnage if she didn’t take this step. In another life, Scoria wished she could have shown Meteion simple things in life, like the flowers that bloomed in Gridania or the beautiful smells of food in the Ul’Dah streets.

Dawntrail

None

Wiltswys Toshio

Wiltswys Toshio was born in a small farming village near Yanxia. Her adoptive mother, a Xaela woman named Enkh, taught Wiltswys the importance of understanding the land and the spirits that inhabited it. She was raised with the understanding that when she became of age, she would be the villages dedicated healer and religious leader, as every child had in Enkh's family before her. Unable to produce a daughter of her own, Enkh had adopted Wiltswys. The discipline and training that she put her through was intense and from an outside perspective, quiet cruel. At the tender age of eight, she was made to camp out in the wilderness outside of the village, only armed with a crooked wand and a warning to listen to the spirits in the air around her.