SFW
V'zeri Tia
Irascible Rogue•
Enter location
No Badges
Race
Miqo'te
Clan
Seeker of the Sun
Free Company
None
Introduction
Seeker of the Sun of the Vulture Tribe of the Sagolii Desert. Usually seen with a scowl sharper than the daggers he carries.
Player's notes
No additional notes provided by the player.
Character Information
Basic details about V'zeri Tia
Age
Mid 20s
Race
Miqo'te, Seeker of the Sun
Pronouns
He/Him
Occupation
Hunter, Mercenary, Adventurer
Birthplace
Sagolii Desert
Sexual Orientation
Bisexual, male leaning
Background
The story of the character's origins
❛ Don't be a coward and take a fucking risk once in a while. ❜
— WHO FACES YOU
❛ There is such a thing as being too friendly, you know? What, you expect me to smile at you and treat you like a friend when we've just met? Pft, fuck off. ❜
V'zeri Tia carries himself with his chin up high. Though he prefers laying low, and going unnoticed, being unbothered, his wild white mane, adorned with beads and braids, and his sharp eyes, white like pearls, which contrast with his copper skin, make him stand out in a crowd. His uninviting scowl, which seems to never really leave his face, might make you wonder “What is up with him?” And curiosity might draw you to ask a question or two, to attempt to figure out if something is wrong, if he is upset—and you will, very quickly, be met with a raspy voice, a deeper scowl, and some evasive answer; but perhaps, as much as you might want to approach him, you'll be discouraged by his gear, his short blades or daggers, usually hanging at each side of his waist, or his many, many knives, more than a common man should have.
And if you see him smile, do not blink, or you might miss it. However, what you'll usually see is not a smile, but a smirk. A lopsided, confident smirk. You wouldn't be wrong to assume that he looks like an asshole, in fact, if you listen to him talk long enough, he might even sound like one; what a douche, right? But something is missing. Even between the many growls that might leave his mouth, or the many curses—or the many growled curses—there is little to no malice in his words. There might be annoyance or a passing anger, but never cruelty, never the desire to make someone innocent suffer. You might even consider, just maybe, that deep down, he is a good guy; though good luck trying to tell him that, or to have others who don't know him as well believe you.
After all, he is just a brute, with the temper of a street cat and a bad mouth, isn't he? Maybe. But if that was the case, wouldn't he always be alone? If you pay some attention, you might notice that he is always surrounded by the same people; not a big group, but a small, tight one. And with them, he laughs, yells, teases, jokes and curses some more. Seems like, somehow, they managed to get to him, or trick him into some kind of friendship, weird. Perhaps everything else is just a front, a set of walls to protect himself, to push out the weaklings that refuse to try hard enough.
Perhaps, with time, effort, patience and some luck, you might even call him a friend one day.
— WHAT YOU HEARD
❛ It takes years of fucking practice, that's how. To quiet your steps and throw knives with precission; It ain't fucking easy, but you'd be surprised how useful those skills can be.❜
A Seeker wearing dark clothes blends with the shadows of a dark alley. After his marks walk past, he follows it from behind, closer than anyone should be. He matches his steps with those of the person he is trailing, in perfect sync, so that the already faint noise he makes will blend away. Once he reaches the destination, he turns, and his entire body flickers out of sight, becoming as clear as the wind. And when the door opens, it's an invitation. There are very few places out of reach for a man of his talents. Secrets are a commodity, and you'd be surprised how easily people speak them out loud when they think they are alone. Some refuse, and some can hold onto their tongues. But for those, the cold metal against their soft neck is all the encouragement they need.
Perhaps you heard about him on the streets, around Pearl Lane. Perhaps you heard whispers about documents going missing, of an illegal trade being interrupted, or of a slaver who was murdered in his own house. If you asked enough and found someone willing to answer you, you'd be pointed in the right direction, towards a shock of white messy hair. If what you need are a pair of fast hands, quick fingers, an extra pair of ears in a room you don't have access to or a debt paid, you might find yourself a valuable asset, as long as you have the coin for it.
But, perhaps you don't roam the dark streets of Ul'dah, maybe you walk the Thanalan Desert. You might have stopped at a bar on the road, where a mark was said to be killed not too long ago, and whoever killed it collected a plentiful bounty. Some might speak of a spark of purple, the roar of thunder before the beast fell, or a flurry of blades. Whatever it was, it got the job done. Are you looking for some help? A beast a bit too tough to bring down, or a rare material that you need to retrieve. Surely this person, who made a name for himself around the desert can help you with that.
Or maybe he is a familiar face, from some time ago. You might remember the attitude, the growls, or his posture, the way he always played with a knife, or a coin, and his ill manners, even with people he should respect. Does he bring back memories of the sea breeze, salt, and rum? Of rowdy pirates and loud docks? Perhaps you should say hi, for old time's sake
