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(I couldn't find a good way to share my current working background story for my FFXIV OC so I hope posting here is allowed <3)
Mikh'a Zhwan was born the first and only son of Mikh Zhwan, his mother, and Koh'li Molkoh, his father. Though the Keepers of the Moon tend to have bigger families, the two would be unable to have many children given the Garlean invasion of Ala Mhigo that happened when Mikh'a was only two years old. While his mother fled to Gridania and eventually joined a group of fellow Keepers of the Moon in Eastern Thanalan where they formed a small refuge camp town. The young Miqo'te would never really know his father, and though news of his death was never given to Mikh, the quick and total subjugation of Ala Mhigo was all the confirmation the young mother needed to know her husband was gone. Though the years ahead would be tough, the capability of the small, cobbled together tribe would manage to survive the wastes of Eastern Thanalan, hunting and gathering and providing for one another as Mihk'a grew older. Though he never knew his dad personally, stories told by his mother and the few people that remembered him in their small tribe would endear the small child to grow strong like his dad from a young age. Though a few moons after his seventh birthday, tragedy would strike the small camp town.
A group of seasoned bandits would be on the run, attempting to flee to the Black Shroud after a failed attempt at raiding the sultan's coffers with the Sultansworn, a plan that was meant to go flawlessly had quickly gotten out of hand thanks to their benefactor, a member of the Monetarists, selling them out to curry favor with the current sultan. While they fled the sultan's personal guard chasing after them, they came upon the poor camp town in the dead of night. Seeing an opportunity to rest and pilfer supplies and food to finish their journey the camp was raided with little mercy. Mikh'a would be sound asleep in his tent when he woke to the sound of screams and yells, the clanging of metal, the pained noises of his fellow Miqo'te being slain. All he remembered of that night was being pulled from the tent by his mother and being dragged to their stores of cotton and silk, hidden in a crate of goods the last words he heard from his mother were "Whatever you do, don't leave this crate until I come back. I love you my precious Mikh'a."
Following his mother's command, he tried to keep his worried sobbing quiet but hour after hour would pass by, the boy overcome with fear of what lay outside this crate as the sounds of fighting died down. Though after four hours the fighting would seem to pick up, the thickness of the crate served to muffle the sounds of what was happening outside. One more hour of fighting and swords clanging would soon lead to silence, an eerie silence that had the poor boy unable to hide any longer. Slowly he peeked out from the crate, his eyes widening as he saw the bleeding bodies of his fellow Miqo'te alongside Hyur and Lalafell dressed in ragged clothes. Standing in the center of the destroyed camp and field of bodies would be a group of silver armored men and women, conversing with one another and looking through the bodies to find any survivors that may need medical aid. Though who they were didn't matter to young Mikh'a, stumbling out of the crate he was ordered to hide in, only one thought and one word could be summoned to the blue haired Miqo'te's lips "M-Mom? Mom! Mom!!!" The paladins of the Sultansworn looked in surprise at the unharmed boy now running around the camp yelling.
He tripped over a body of a Lalafell bandit before seeing something that silenced his crying out, a grey skinned Miqo'te with her hair in a long braid, her body lying on the ground with a long cut from a sword across her back. Before the boy could reach forward, words caught in his throat as he tried to comprehend what was happening, a golden haired paladin quickly ran over and wrapped his arms around the small child "Hey, hey, are you all right young man? Look here, it will be okay, you're safe now." The man quickly tried to distract the now trembling boy, tears falling from the corners of his eyes as his young mind realized what had happened. Despite the despair growing in his chest and the urge to howl out in sadness, a peculiar sight stole his attention for a moment. Despite the paladin's armor being splattered with some traces of the bandit's blood, upon his shining chest plate was a crude, almost laughably awful drawing of a chocobo. The crying child looked up at the golden haired paladin in the growing light of the morning sun cresting over the hills of Eastern Thanalan, his face was somber for a moment before he wore a wide smile, a comforting smile that seemed to give off more warmth than the growing temperatures of the desert around them. "I'm sorry, young man. You must be strong though, I imagine that's your mother behind me. She gave everything to keep you safe, I know it's hard to ask, but try to look toward the future, the future she wanted you to have." In the arms of this oddly smiling man with the odd chocobo on his chest plate, the still grieving boy gave the weakest of nods before leaning in to the cool steel of the armor and succumbing to his emotions, crying out as the blonde man did his best to let the young Miqo'te work through his grief.
As the few surviving Miqo'te were given medical aid, they along with Mihk'a would be helped on to a carriage and offered some form of sanctuary in the walls of Ul'dah as recompense for the Sultansworn failing to protect them from the bandits. Though before the carriage could be sent off, the strong faced, blue haired Miqo'te would hop out and run over to the blonde man who had comforted him hours prior. The seven year old boy tugged at the man's hand who looked behind himself and once again brandished that sun-like warm smile, kneeling down on one knee "Headed off, young man? I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner to protect you all." Though he had been mute aside from his sobbing, the boy finally broke his hours long silence as he poked at the chocobo on the man's chest piece "Why are you the only one with a silly drawing on your armor?" The boy asked with little tact, getting a small chuckle from the paladins behind the golden haired Hyur. He soon chuckled as well as he glanced down at where young Mikh'a was pointing "That's a picture my son made. I told him that I wanted to be a protector not just to save, but to comfort. To offer joy and happiness when people are at their darkest. So he gave me this little drawing, said it would help cheer people up because of how much the chocobos cheer him up." The young Miqo'te's ears flicked quizzically atop his head before a timid, light chuckle left his lips, which seemed absurd given his situation.
"You're a really weird guy, Mister Knight." The boy said before the golden haired man gave a boisterous laugh "I guess I am, young man. My name is Gwayne, I hope to see you around Ul'dah on patrols." Though as the man flashed a warm smile and moved to stand up, his hand would be tugged once more by the small boy, whose mismatched gold and ruby eyes were now focused on his face "I... I want to grow up to be a strong knight like you, a-and be really tough like my dad was! I wanna be so strong that I can protect everybody and make the smile like you do! Maybe if I was stronger I could have... Have..." The boy's memories of the night prior washed over him and caused the hand holding the paladin's chainmail wrapped hand to tremble again. Gwayne kneeling down with a somber smile still on his features as a hand came up to pat the young boy's head as tears started to come from the corners of his eyes once more "What's your name, young man?" He asked, Mikh'a trying to calm down his sobbing as he spoke "M-My name i-is Mikh'a... Mikh'a Zhwan..." The boy spoke, his voice still trembling despite his efforts. "Well Mikh'a, I have no doubt that you can be a strong warrior. Hell, I have a feeling you have something special to ya, you'll become a man that can protect the whole world I bet! A hero that can smile no matter how bad things get so everyone knows they are safe and everything will be alright. Now can you show me that strong smile? Tell the world they can't get you down, no matter what."
Through light sniffles, the young Miqo'te wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, looking up at the odd, smiling paladin in front of him. He thought of his Mom, of his friends that were gone, he glanced over his shoulder to the four other Miqo'te waiting in the cart with their heads hung low before looking to the man that helped save his life. Slowly but surely the still grieving boy willed the corners of his mouth to rise, until he was wearing a wide smile, one so wide the corners of his mouth ached and he had to close his eyes. Gwayne gave a hearty laugh once more and pat the boy's head as he spoke "And you called me weird, what kind of smile is that? It looks like you broke something!" The paladin and Mikh'a shared an honest laugh, one that helped ease the boy's soul as he was ushered back into the cart, waving goodbye to the paladin that was unaware of what he had just set in motion. That gold and ruby eyed boy kept a small smile on his face the whole trip back to the towering city of riches, Ul'dah, his smile alone causing the four other refugees to lighten their spirits somewhat. This would be the start of a long and arduous tale of the boy that would become the Warrior of Light, savior of not just Eorzea, but of the entire star.
Mikh'a Zhwan was born the first and only son of Mikh Zhwan, his mother, and Koh'li Molkoh, his father. Though the Keepers of the Moon tend to have bigger families, the two would be unable to have many children given the Garlean invasion of Ala Mhigo that happened when Mikh'a was only two years old. While his mother fled to Gridania and eventually joined a group of fellow Keepers of the Moon in Eastern Thanalan where they formed a small refuge camp town. The young Miqo'te would never really know his father, and though news of his death was never given to Mikh, the quick and total subjugation of Ala Mhigo was all the confirmation the young mother needed to know her husband was gone. Though the years ahead would be tough, the capability of the small, cobbled together tribe would manage to survive the wastes of Eastern Thanalan, hunting and gathering and providing for one another as Mihk'a grew older. Though he never knew his dad personally, stories told by his mother and the few people that remembered him in their small tribe would endear the small child to grow strong like his dad from a young age. Though a few moons after his seventh birthday, tragedy would strike the small camp town.
A group of seasoned bandits would be on the run, attempting to flee to the Black Shroud after a failed attempt at raiding the sultan's coffers with the Sultansworn, a plan that was meant to go flawlessly had quickly gotten out of hand thanks to their benefactor, a member of the Monetarists, selling them out to curry favor with the current sultan. While they fled the sultan's personal guard chasing after them, they came upon the poor camp town in the dead of night. Seeing an opportunity to rest and pilfer supplies and food to finish their journey the camp was raided with little mercy. Mikh'a would be sound asleep in his tent when he woke to the sound of screams and yells, the clanging of metal, the pained noises of his fellow Miqo'te being slain. All he remembered of that night was being pulled from the tent by his mother and being dragged to their stores of cotton and silk, hidden in a crate of goods the last words he heard from his mother were "Whatever you do, don't leave this crate until I come back. I love you my precious Mikh'a."
Following his mother's command, he tried to keep his worried sobbing quiet but hour after hour would pass by, the boy overcome with fear of what lay outside this crate as the sounds of fighting died down. Though after four hours the fighting would seem to pick up, the thickness of the crate served to muffle the sounds of what was happening outside. One more hour of fighting and swords clanging would soon lead to silence, an eerie silence that had the poor boy unable to hide any longer. Slowly he peeked out from the crate, his eyes widening as he saw the bleeding bodies of his fellow Miqo'te alongside Hyur and Lalafell dressed in ragged clothes. Standing in the center of the destroyed camp and field of bodies would be a group of silver armored men and women, conversing with one another and looking through the bodies to find any survivors that may need medical aid. Though who they were didn't matter to young Mikh'a, stumbling out of the crate he was ordered to hide in, only one thought and one word could be summoned to the blue haired Miqo'te's lips "M-Mom? Mom! Mom!!!" The paladins of the Sultansworn looked in surprise at the unharmed boy now running around the camp yelling.
He tripped over a body of a Lalafell bandit before seeing something that silenced his crying out, a grey skinned Miqo'te with her hair in a long braid, her body lying on the ground with a long cut from a sword across her back. Before the boy could reach forward, words caught in his throat as he tried to comprehend what was happening, a golden haired paladin quickly ran over and wrapped his arms around the small child "Hey, hey, are you all right young man? Look here, it will be okay, you're safe now." The man quickly tried to distract the now trembling boy, tears falling from the corners of his eyes as his young mind realized what had happened. Despite the despair growing in his chest and the urge to howl out in sadness, a peculiar sight stole his attention for a moment. Despite the paladin's armor being splattered with some traces of the bandit's blood, upon his shining chest plate was a crude, almost laughably awful drawing of a chocobo. The crying child looked up at the golden haired paladin in the growing light of the morning sun cresting over the hills of Eastern Thanalan, his face was somber for a moment before he wore a wide smile, a comforting smile that seemed to give off more warmth than the growing temperatures of the desert around them. "I'm sorry, young man. You must be strong though, I imagine that's your mother behind me. She gave everything to keep you safe, I know it's hard to ask, but try to look toward the future, the future she wanted you to have." In the arms of this oddly smiling man with the odd chocobo on his chest plate, the still grieving boy gave the weakest of nods before leaning in to the cool steel of the armor and succumbing to his emotions, crying out as the blonde man did his best to let the young Miqo'te work through his grief.
As the few surviving Miqo'te were given medical aid, they along with Mihk'a would be helped on to a carriage and offered some form of sanctuary in the walls of Ul'dah as recompense for the Sultansworn failing to protect them from the bandits. Though before the carriage could be sent off, the strong faced, blue haired Miqo'te would hop out and run over to the blonde man who had comforted him hours prior. The seven year old boy tugged at the man's hand who looked behind himself and once again brandished that sun-like warm smile, kneeling down on one knee "Headed off, young man? I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner to protect you all." Though he had been mute aside from his sobbing, the boy finally broke his hours long silence as he poked at the chocobo on the man's chest piece "Why are you the only one with a silly drawing on your armor?" The boy asked with little tact, getting a small chuckle from the paladins behind the golden haired Hyur. He soon chuckled as well as he glanced down at where young Mikh'a was pointing "That's a picture my son made. I told him that I wanted to be a protector not just to save, but to comfort. To offer joy and happiness when people are at their darkest. So he gave me this little drawing, said it would help cheer people up because of how much the chocobos cheer him up." The young Miqo'te's ears flicked quizzically atop his head before a timid, light chuckle left his lips, which seemed absurd given his situation.
"You're a really weird guy, Mister Knight." The boy said before the golden haired man gave a boisterous laugh "I guess I am, young man. My name is Gwayne, I hope to see you around Ul'dah on patrols." Though as the man flashed a warm smile and moved to stand up, his hand would be tugged once more by the small boy, whose mismatched gold and ruby eyes were now focused on his face "I... I want to grow up to be a strong knight like you, a-and be really tough like my dad was! I wanna be so strong that I can protect everybody and make the smile like you do! Maybe if I was stronger I could have... Have..." The boy's memories of the night prior washed over him and caused the hand holding the paladin's chainmail wrapped hand to tremble again. Gwayne kneeling down with a somber smile still on his features as a hand came up to pat the young boy's head as tears started to come from the corners of his eyes once more "What's your name, young man?" He asked, Mikh'a trying to calm down his sobbing as he spoke "M-My name i-is Mikh'a... Mikh'a Zhwan..." The boy spoke, his voice still trembling despite his efforts. "Well Mikh'a, I have no doubt that you can be a strong warrior. Hell, I have a feeling you have something special to ya, you'll become a man that can protect the whole world I bet! A hero that can smile no matter how bad things get so everyone knows they are safe and everything will be alright. Now can you show me that strong smile? Tell the world they can't get you down, no matter what."
Through light sniffles, the young Miqo'te wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, looking up at the odd, smiling paladin in front of him. He thought of his Mom, of his friends that were gone, he glanced over his shoulder to the four other Miqo'te waiting in the cart with their heads hung low before looking to the man that helped save his life. Slowly but surely the still grieving boy willed the corners of his mouth to rise, until he was wearing a wide smile, one so wide the corners of his mouth ached and he had to close his eyes. Gwayne gave a hearty laugh once more and pat the boy's head as he spoke "And you called me weird, what kind of smile is that? It looks like you broke something!" The paladin and Mikh'a shared an honest laugh, one that helped ease the boy's soul as he was ushered back into the cart, waving goodbye to the paladin that was unaware of what he had just set in motion. That gold and ruby eyed boy kept a small smile on his face the whole trip back to the towering city of riches, Ul'dah, his smile alone causing the four other refugees to lighten their spirits somewhat. This would be the start of a long and arduous tale of the boy that would become the Warrior of Light, savior of not just Eorzea, but of the entire star.