ㅤAs you watch him, he in turn is watching you, the feeling of a large predatory cat stalking its prey is felt with every second his eyes are upon you. Do not run, you'll only excite the hunter.∘°Music - The Pretty Poison°∘

ㅤAPPEARANCE

With a double-take, you notice his beautiful and regal appearance. His white, bedroom-disheveled hair has short streaks of coal near the tips. Narrow eyes, like molten amber, are intense and unflinching, framed by dark scales that accentuate his ineffably lovely, ashen-skinned face. His horns curve forward, aligning just above the end of his elegant nose, and are capped with ornamental silver. His gaze is polite but cold, and no smile graces his lips. His unblemished skin, free of scars, resembles perfect marble, under which ripple the corded muscles of a honed warrior's body. He exudes a scent of fresh amber, reminiscent of smoky pine and new leather.

ㅤMOVEMENT

Every movement he makes is almost unnatural, as though he has spent years perfecting each gesture long before it was ever required. His motions possess an impossibly smooth, feline grace, with every step and action executed with a seamless elegance. When he walks, it is a gliding stride that exudes unwavering confidence and a clear sense of purpose in his destination. Even when taken by surprise, his reactions lack any awkward or jerking motions, instead flowing with that same improbably practiced transition, as if each response had been meticulously rehearsed.

ㅤVOICE

He speaks in a deep, cultured voice, reminiscent of distant rolling thunder, almost a purr. It is cool, collected, and polite. Each word is pronounced with crystal-like clarity, washing over the listener like a perfect breeze. His voice carries an authoritative yet soothing quality, commanding attention effortlessly. The subtle undertones of his speech suggest a wealth of knowledge and experience, making every conversation feel profound. As he speaks, there is an almost hypnotic rhythm to his words, drawing people in and holding their focus with an unyielding grip.

ㅤRUMORS

◉ Local gossip and rumors talk of his predatory gaze. While it seems he makes a point to look a person in the eyes, it is quite clear he is also measuring them, and watching every move that person makes.◉ Being around him at times feels like a large cat is stalking its prey.◉ It is rare to see him take a step backward unless it is to get a better stance. The man never retreats it seems.◉ When he is displeased with someone he growls. On a rare occasion, he has been heard to also hiss.◉ He is sometimes heard speaking the language of the Steppes with other Xeala from the Steppes.◉ He does not mention his clan, even in passing, and his last name does not match any known clans from the Steppes.◉ A more disturbing note, people under hushed breaths have been known to call him “The Pretty Poison.” No one likes to say why.

ㅤAMONAR'S STORY

Tarkhan of clan Qerel struggled hard to become a warrior of the steppes, and he was victorious. His coming of age trial completed he found himself deeply in love with another warrior of his clan. Sarangerel fell in love with his grace, and he fell in love with her spirit. She is his Nhaama, his entire soul, heart, and life.However as fate would have it, an archon took interest in what she thought was a keen and agile mind. After talking with the tribe, all parties agreed that Tarkhan would go to Sharlayan to study and learn a great many things. Before leaving he married his beloved Nhaama, Sarangerel, and he promised he would be back soon as he was an even greater man.

consumed by darkness

∘°Music - Ashes of the Steppes°∘The archon who brought him to Sharlayan, and sponsored his education, made sure his education was never lacking in any way. He was taught how to read, write and speak as many languages as he could be taught. Which was an astonishing number. He had a thirst for knowledge, and he retained everything taught to him from numbers, to languages, to business. When it came to business and coin, he was alarmingly proficient. This became his path to becoming an archon himself. Thanks to his education, he was able to send weekly letters back to his beloved Sarangerel, who sent back letters of her own to him.After many long years he achieved the title of Under Archon.However, news came to him that somehow his tribe had tripped a retaliation response from the Garlean occupation forces in Doma. Something large enough that they came all the way to the Steppes to deal with. Rage fueled him, and he did everything he could to get back home, despite being told that Sharlayan would not take part in any outside conflicts, he did not care. Tarkhan had no way of expressing to these scholars exactly what was at stake for him. Only if he didn't get home his very soul would be lost to him.Relenting to his sincerity and tears they allowed him to get on a boat and return to his homeland. However, while he was traveling his tribe was fighting for their lives. After two days of fighting against impossible odds, Sarangerel fought bitterly, and viciously as a Xaela warrior would. She had made a promise to Tarkhan to be there when he came home, and thanks to a stray bullet from a nameless Garlean soldier she slowly bled out against a shrine.Tarkhan's ship should have arrived before the final conflict that his tribe faced. Instead, due to a storm, his ship was delayed. He came to his home in ruins, and his entire tribe dead. He found Sarangerel having followed a trail of devastation to her. He sank to his knees, scooped her into his arms and cried till he could no longer shed tears.His soul, his love, everything he held dear was gone. He created a massive pyre and kneeled at it while the bodies of his tribe burned. Once the pyre had burned out the man who stood up was no longer Tarkhan, that man died the moment he found that his Nhaama was lost to him. Amonar Yaslana now returned to Sharlayan a changed man. He took every document of his old life and changed his name, then left for Ul'dah, where he lives to this day.It is a story he will never tell. His clan and tribe are unknown to all. Who he was before was only known to dead men. Who, and what he was died with his Nhaama. Do not think you can ever hope to replace what he lost in his heart that day. No one will ever find your body if you try.

ㅤAfter Story

Amonar's arrival in Ul'dah was met with some hardship, but he quickly adapted to the cutthroat methods of the local merchants and their underhanded ways. One advantage he had was his physical prowess, which allowed him to intimidate those who attempted to ruin his financial plans. Should they bring hired muscle, he showed them what it meant to fight against a Xaela born and raised on the Steppes.Always on the lookout for individuals who could eventually show their talents and bring in the most money to his projects around the city, Amonar kept a clawed talon on the heartbeat of the people and the city's lifeblood. His wealth and status rose slowly, sometimes directly responsible for the misfortune of his competitors. Depending on the vileness of their actions, he ensured no one found the bodies. To this day, no one knows just how many bodies are buried under the flagstones of the city.In time, he encountered a strange Viera woman who did not speak the local tongue well and seemed blissfully innocent in every way. Her presence alone made the Xaela warrior back away from her across an entire street, a man who had never backed away from anyone in his life. While Amonar was a predator, this woman was another kind of hunter, a monster or legendary creature. In his mind, he knew if he didn't reach out to her, help her, guide her, shape her, she would be a danger to everyone she encountered.In time, he adopted her as a daughter of his soul and did all in his power to give her the life she was never allowed to live. He worked tirelessly to see her smile, enjoy life, and make friends. He also dedicated himself to discovering why she was made into this creature of death and destruction. Leveret Arledge, the daughter of his soul, and perhaps destroyer of worlds should he fail to preserve what is left of her humanity.

ㅤABOUT

⁂ABOUT THE PLAYER⁂First of all, thank you for reading this character's card. Did you find the "hidden" section that details out his past?Amonar is my alt I made after some people ruined my roleplay enjoyment on my main character.He was born from my spite and angst over six bastards who tried to verbally harass me into erping with them for roleplaying with her. At the time she also had "no erp" on her plate.Those people soured my enjoyment of her and FFXIV for a short time. I've come to enjoy my main again, after spending time on this alt. She is my first love for the game as a WOW refugee. So I'll be clear here.❃ I am a married man in real life. I love my wife. Hitting on Amonar in character can be permitted, but understand that you're not going to get anywhere, and it will be a very bad time for you to try.❃ Secondly, he and I are two different beings. Never confuse any affection he shows towards your character as anything more than the most basic of platonic relationships, and I as the player will be courteous towards you as long as you respect him, and me.❃ With that out of the way, I am 5438 years old, male, and just looking to enjoy my time in what has become my favorite addiction to play.❃ Roleplaying Amonar is a mindset that is rooted in a deep hurt both from myself and what happened in his past. So he will come off as abrasive, if not downright feral.❃He will never speak of this past, and no one knows of this past anymore as he made sure to cover his tracks. Do not act like you know him besides what you've heard about him.❃ If you're hoping to roleplay with him in hopes of getting a kiss, or something sexual, stop now before I get mad. Amonar has a way of making people vanish. See above.Thank you for reading!Think he's interesting?
Check out my main character and magnum opus to FFXIV!
https://leveretarledge.carrd.co/Do you need some help with GPose?
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