Rowland Belmonte

Born beneath the frozen skies of Coerthas, Rowland Belmonte was the son of a minor Ishgardian noble house. A family whose name carried little influence, but whose honor carried great weight.Until the day House Belmonte was branded heretical. His father was condemned by the Holy See's inquisitors and executed, leaving Rowland and his mother stripped of their name, their home, and their place in Ishgardian society.With nowhere else to turn, they fled south to Gridania, where his mother found work serving the wealthy at Haukke Manor.Then she vanished.
No body.
No explanation.
No farewell.
Only rumors.
Rumors of forbidden rites.
Rumors of voidsent.
Rumors of things that should never have answered when called.Years passed, and the grief that once consumed Rowland hardened into something colder. Taking up his father's forgotten blade, Rowland abandoned the remnants of his old life and embraced the darkness within himself.
Not as a master, but as a weapon.Now he walks the realm hunting those who would invite the creatures of the Void into the world, seeking vengeance against the darkness that stole his family...
...and searching for the truth of what truly happened to his mother.

Evelyn had learned over the years that the best hunters were not always the ones who moved the fastest or struck the hardest. The best hunters were the ones who understood the purpose behind the hunt. A bounty was rarely just about the reward waiting at the end. More often than not, it was about the people left behind... the families harmed, the villages threatened, the innocent people who deserved to feel safe again.That was why she found herself more amused than annoyed when she realized she was not the only person tracking the same target.She had been following the trail for several days, piecing together small details others might have overlooked. A broken branch, disturbed earth, the remnants of a hastily abandoned camp. Small signs that told a story to anyone willing to listen. A story told by the land around them.It was during that pursuit that she discovered someone else had been following the same trail.The man standing nearby was not what she expected. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, the sort that came from experience rather than arrogance. There was something guarded about him, something that suggested he had learned to keep parts of himself hidden. His expression was calm and difficult to read, and his silence seemed deliberate rather than uncomfortable.Evelyn, naturally, was not particularly bothered by silence. If anything, she seemed determined to test how long it would last.The exchange between them quickly revealed the obvious, that they were after the same person. Neither had any intention of abandoning the hunt, but neither seemed interested in turning the situation into a competition that would only slow them both down.After all, the target escaping helped no one."We both want the same thing," Evelyn had pointed out. "Fighting over who gets there first seems rather pointless if he gets away while we're arguing."It was a practical solution, and Rowland agreed. Reluctantly, perhaps, but he agreed.The arrangement became an unusual sort of partnership. They remained independent, each following their own instincts, but they quickly discovered that those instincts worked well together.Evelyn had a habit of noticing things others ignored, especially details connected to the environment around them. Her knowledge of plants, terrain, and natural signs often revealed information that would have otherwise gone unnoticed.Rowland approached the hunt differently. He was methodical, careful, and observant. Where Evelyn followed the subtle stories the world left behind, he looked for patterns and inconsistencies. He noticed what did not fit, what seemed out of place, and what others might have dismissed.More than once, one of them would discover something the other had missed. And more than once, Evelyn found herself smiling when Rowland calmly pointed out that she had overlooked a detail. Not because she was frustrated, but because she respected it.The two hunters developed an easy rhythm, one that balanced challenge with cooperation. Their rivalry was not about proving one was better than the other. It was something far more enjoyable. It was a quiet test of skill between two people who appreciated finding someone capable enough to challenge them.Evelyn quickly discovered that Rowland's reserved nature hid more than she initially expected. He was not cold, as some might assume from his serious demeanor. He simply measured his words carefully. Beneath the quiet exterior was someone who cared deeply about doing what was right, even if he rarely spoke about it.Rowland, in turn, found himself surprised by Evelyn. At first glance, she seemed almost too kind to be a bounty hunter. She carried warmth with her wherever she went, quick to offer a smile or a helping hand. Her easy humor and playful nature made her approachable, but that kindness did not make her naive.When the situation demanded it, she became focused and determined, proving that the gentle herbalist and the skilled hunter were not separate people, but they were both parts of the same woman.By the time they finally cornered their target near the cliffs overlooking the sea, they had developed a level of trust neither had expected from a chance encounter. Unfortunately, their quarry had no intention of making the situation simple.With nowhere left to run, the man looked between the two hunters and the path behind him. Evelyn noticed the change in his expression almost immediately. She recognized the look of someone who had run out of options and was about to make a reckless choice."Don't," she warned.The warning came too late, as the man turned and threw himself from the cliff.For a moment, everything went still.The ocean stretched endlessly below them, waves crashing against the rocks as the fugitive disappeared beneath the surface.Rowland immediately assessed the situation, with the height of the fall, the danger of the water, the possibility of injury.Then Evelyn moved.There was no hesitation, no pause to reconsider. She discarded anything that might slow her down and dove after him.Rowland stared after her for only a heartbeat.It was enough.She had just thrown herself into unknown waters after someone who had attempted to escape by risking his own life. She had no idea what waited below, and she had no guarantee she would resurface.And despite knowing her for only a short time, Rowland found himself unable to simply stand there and watch.He followed.The impact with the water was brutal. The cold shock immediately stole his breath, and the ocean swallowed the world around him. For several moments, all he could hear was the muffled sound of waves and his own heartbeat as he searched through the depths.He expected to find panic. Half expecting to find Evelyn struggling.Instead, he found her completely at ease.Evelyn was moving through the water with a grace and familiarity that made the impossible look effortless. She was not fighting against the current. She was not desperately trying to reach the surface. She was simply swimming, as though the ocean belonged to her.Rowland could only stare for a moment.Of course.... Of course the strange Limsa woman had another surprise.Unfortunately, his own lungs were far less impressed with the discovery.He moved toward her, reaching out and attempting to guide her upward. Evelyn turned toward him with genuine confusion, her expression shifting from surprise to concern as she realized what he was doing.It was only once they broke through the surface that she seemed to understand.Rowland surfaced coughing, exhausted, and very aware that his decision had been considerably less graceful than he would have preferred. He managed to pull himself toward the rocks and regain his footing, only for Evelyn to appear moments later looking perfectly fine while dragging their unconscious target behind her.Her first concern was not the bounty.It was him.She immediately checked to make sure he was alright, and the concern in her voice seemed to catch him off guard.After everything that had happened, after watching her move through the water as though it were nothing unusual, he finally asked the obvious question.How was she not drowning?Evelyn seemed to realize then exactly what had happened. She had forgotten. Not intentionally. Not because she was hiding something. She simply had not thought to explain something that had always been a part of her life.With a small, apologetic smile, she admitted that she could breathe underwater.Rowland stared.The explanation answered the question and somehow created several more.To Evelyn, it was simply a gift she carried. Something unusual, perhaps, but not something she considered worth announcing.To Rowland, it was information that would have been extremely useful before watching someone willingly disappear beneath the ocean.The situation was so absurd that, despite himself, he found his usual composure slipping. A quiet laugh escaped him. Brief, almost surprised, but genuine.Evelyn noticed immediately. Of course she did. She seemed to notice everything.But instead of teasing him too much, she simply smiled, clearly amused by the entire situation.By the time they delivered the bounty and prepared to go their separate ways, neither of them expected the encounter to become anything more than a successful hunt.They had met by chance, worked together by necessity, and discovered that their skills complemented one another.There was no promise that they would partner again. No assumption that their paths would cross. Only a quiet understanding that, should they meet again, it would not be unwelcome.Evelyn offered him a final smile before heading her own way.

1.Monster Hunting - Whether its a voidsent, some practicioner of black magic, or a great beast, Rowland is most alive hunting, and killing, the evils that threaten the people of Eorzea.2.Ishgard-Rowland is the son of a once minor, and now fallen, noble house. One that was famously ended due to accusations of heresy.3.Dark Knight - Accusations that were only flamed when the only living son of the house returned as a Dark Knight. A criminal that struck down another law abiding noble before disappearing back into the wild.4.Cooking - Want to make a friend. Get the lad to make a meal for you, or better yet, cook together. A hobby his family shared together many years ago.5.The Outdoors - Do you like camping? How is your opinions about the flora and fauna of Eorzea? Rowland spends much of his time sleeping under, or even in, trees and the other deep places of the wild and respects anyone with a healthy respect for nature.6.The Stars - Rowland still remembers a time when his mother would watch the stars. He remembers the old deck of cards that his father gave to her. How she had used the cards to play games with him, and tell his future.

Warning - Possible information from the future. Spoiler and/or planning territory.Before the fall of House Belmonte, they had been knights and soldiers, fighting for generations to protect the common folk from the threat of dragon-kind and the city's own noble classes.However, not all fought with swords and steel. Rowland's mother was a fiery, stubborn woman who watched the stars and renamed the planets. She bore a special deck of cards and harnessed magics that brought weal to the infirm and woe upon the wicked.The deck was lost when the house fell, or so most thought.Their surviving son had picked up his father's sword and called upon the darkness in his heart, spurred on by the need for vengeance. The honor of his family had been shattered, and with it, so too had the path he once walked.But all may not be lost.For the strands of fate may yet pull the dark soldier back from the shadows and return him to the path of duty, honor, and justice—a path laid in the very stars.

Western Coerthas - A place, like many others, that had been ruined by the Calamity.The land had once been watched over by Ishgardian knights, proud men and women who had stood upon these walls and guarded the roads leading through the frozen wilderness. But the Calamity had changed everything.Then the cold came. The snows never stopped. Now, the Western Highlands were little more than a frozen wasteland. Rowland's boots crunched against the packed snow as he trudged up the narrow path toward the forgotten fortress.He wasn't entirely sure why he had come. If someone had asked him what had drawn him this far into the wilderness, he wouldn't have been able to give them an answer. There was no contract waiting for him. No bounty. No promise of coin.Only a voice.Not a voice he could clearly hear. It was more of a feeling. A presence. Something that had begun as a faint sensation in the back of his mind and had grown stronger with every passing day."...North."It had pushed him north. And now, at last, he could see the ruins. They rose from the frozen landscape like the corpse of some enormous beast. Ancient stone walls jutted from beneath the snow. Towers leaned at impossible angles, their upper sections long since collapsed. Great wounds had been torn through the fortress, leaving entire sections exposed to the elements. Faded Ishgardian banners hung from the surviving walls, frozen stiff in the wind.Rowland stopped at the foot of the path. He stared upward. There was something unsettling about the place. And not merely because it was abandoned.The wind howled around him. And the feeling returned.Rowland's hand tightened around the hilt of his father's greatsword, then he continued forward.The trek through the wilderness had been perilous enough. The ruins were worse. The outer grounds were littered with the remains of the fortress's former inhabitants. Rusted weapons lay half-buried in the snow. Broken shields bore the faded insignia of Ishgardian houses. Here and there, frozen corpses remained where they had fallen, still wearing the armor of the men and women who had once stood watch over Coerthas.The dead had never truly left.Neither had the beasts. Great creatures prowled through the broken courtyards, their howls echoing between the ruined walls. Others had made their nests within the abandoned barracks and towers.And among them walked the soldiers. Undead knights. Some still wore the remnants of Ishgardian armor. Others were little more than skeletons wrapped in frozen scraps of cloth. Their weapons were rusted, their bodies broken, but somehow they continued to patrol the fortress they had died defending.Rowland watched one shamble past him.For a moment, he wondered what it had been like. To stand here. To be ordered to hold the fortress. To watch the snow bury the roads. To wait for reinforcements that never came. To keep standing when there was nothing left to protect...The thought lingered.Then the dead knight turned toward him. Rowland drew his father's greatsword. The question could wait. The blade answered instead.For every soldier Rowland cut down, another seemed to emerge from the darkness. Rusted blades crashed against his armor. Dead hands reached for him from every direction. The narrow halls became a storm of steel, bone, and snow.Rowland fought anyway.He fought until his arms burned. Until his breath came in ragged gasps. He fought until the greatsword in his hands felt as though it weighed twice what it had when he first entered the fortress. But he did not stop.Not when his blood stained the snow. Not when exhaustion screamed at him to fall. Not when the dead surrounded him.He kept moving.Forward.Always forward.His father's sword became his only answer to everything that stood in his way. With every swing, another creature fell. The once-pristine blade became stained a deep crimson.Yet there was no satisfaction in the killing. Only progress. Something was waiting for him. He could feel it...Eventually, Rowland reached the deeper sections of the fortress: The barracks, the keep, places where the dead had made their final stands. Here, the signs of the garrison's final days were everywhere. An overturned table still stood in a dining hall, frozen in place. A pile of empty crates sat against one wall. A shattered spear used to barricade a door. And in one corner, beneath a layer of frost, Rowland found the remains of a knight still sitting beside what had once been a fire.Rowland stared at the corpse for several moments. His jaw tightened. He understood duty. He had been raised to understand it. But there was a difference between duty and throwing lives away.At least...He thought there was.
Rowland continued deeper into the fortress. Until he found the chapel. The doors were half-buried beneath snow and ice. He pushed them open. Silence greeted him. The chapel was strangely untouched. Broken pews filled the room, their surfaces coated in frost. Ancient banners hung from the walls. At the far end stood a weathered statue of Halone, the Fury, her features worn by decades of cold.The sight should have brought him comfort. Instead, Rowland felt the strange presence within him grow stronger. Closer.Almost within reach.He looked toward the statue. Then beyond it. There... A narrow passage.Rowland stepped forward.The deeper he went, the quieter the fortress became. The beasts did not follow. The dead did not cross the threshold. It was as though even the monsters knew better than to enter this place.At the end of the passage was a small chamber. Forgotten. Almost hidden. And at its center stood an ancient altar. Upon it rested a small stone. Black and red.Rowland stopped.A soul crystal.He had seen crystals like this before. His mother had possessed one. So had his father.They had been heirlooms of their respective houses, passed down through generations. Soul crystals carried the accumulated knowledge of those who had come before, allowing the chosen bearer of each generation to inherit what their predecessors had learned.But this crystal was different...Rowland could feel it.The moment he stepped into the chamber, the voice became almost overwhelming. Was this it? Was this what had been calling him? He had heard stories of soul crystals speaking to their chosen bearers. He had always assumed it was a metaphor. He hadn't expected the sensation to be so literal.Rowland took a slow breath. His eyes remained fixed on the crystal. Then he reached out. His fingers closed around it.Power erupted through him. Not the radiant light that protected knights and their charges...Something colder. Something darker. The crystal throbbed in his hand with the promise of power.Of vengeance. Of strength.And it found something waiting for it inside Rowland. The darkness that had lingered within his heart for years answered. The two resonated. Mingled. Became something new. Something strong.Something that threatened to completely overwhelm him.Rowland staggered backward. The crystal nearly fell from his hand. Images flashed through his mind. Anger. Loss. Betrayal. His father's death. His family's name dragged through the mud. Everything that had been taken from him. The crystal offered him an answer. Vengeance.It promised him the strength to make certain that no one would ever take anything from him again.Rowland's grip tightened. For one terrible moment...He almost accepted. Then he remembered the oath. His family's oath. The words his father had taught him. The words he had repeated countless times as a child.Rowland closed his eyes. And began to recite them...One last time.The power fought against him. He fought back. His breathing slowed. His heart steadied. He would not surrender. Whatever lived within this crystal, whatever darkness it offered him, it would belong to him. Not the other way around. Rowland gathered every ounce of his will. He forced the power downward.Deeper.He drove it into the darkness that already lived within him. A darkness that had been simmering there for years. A pot waiting to boil over.The crystal's power sank into it.And then...Silence.Rowland opened his eyes.He stood there for several moments, breathing heavily. Changed, but still himself.He looked down at the crystal.The darkness had always been there. The crystal hadn't created it. It had simply given that darkness a voice.He slowly closed his fingers around the crystal, and then turned back toward the chapel.The dead were waiting.Rowland stepped through the doorway.The entire garrison stood in the ruined halls. Hundreds of undead soldiers. The men and women who had once stood watch over this forgotten fortress. The soldiers who had refused to abandon their post. The soldiers who had died here.
Rowland stopped and looked at them. For the first time since entering the fortress, he felt no fear.No hesitation.Only certainty.He slowly lifted his father's greatsword. The old blade had been stained crimson by the journey. Rowland pointed its tip toward the waiting dead.For a heartbeat, the fortress was completely silent.Then one soldier lowered his weapon. He dropped to one knee.Rowland's eyes narrowed.A second followed, and then a third. One by one, the dead soldiers began to kneel. Until the entire garrison was on its knees before him.Rowland stared at them, and stood among the dead knights of the forgotten fortress, he understood one thing. They had spent their final days believing that duty meant obeying the order to hold the line. Rowland would not make the same mistake.His duty would be his own.And if the darkness was what he needed to protect those who could not protect themselves...Then darkness would serve him.Not the other way around.Rowland lowered the greatsword.The dead remained on their knees.

1. Minimal age to rp with is 18+. Preferably 21+. Please respect this.2. No bigotry/hate/or anything of that nature. Even if you're "just joking".3. OOC is OOC and IC is IC.4. Likewise, IRL responsibilities always comes first.5. Server: Mateus/Crystal (GMT-5, NA Time zone)6. ERP - Effectively no. I don't feel comfortable with explicit scenes with players I don't know or trust well, and the character Rowland is already in an committed romantic relationship. Others need not apply.7. This drops to absolutely zero for any Lalafell, Moogle, Loporrit or any other "tiny" character. You will get blocked period.8. Almost any RP themes are acceptable, but please communicate first for anything breaching into overly dark or "adult" situations. (Especially gore or overly violent situations)9. God-modding, character controlling, or unexpected character changes that involve Rowland without my prior consent will be ignored. (Character death, permanent damage, etc.)10. I'm pretty chill about canon/lore accuracy. A good story trumps being super adherant to the strict lore that Square has written into the game. That said, please let me know if your lore bending goes well beyond what could be considered reasonable. Just so I'm aware before we get to that point, and can formulate character reactions more naturally.11: My personal life is mostly private. However, if you would like to know more about my RP experience or skills relating to gaming. Please feel free to ask. I'll happily answer if it helps.12: I can be nervous when meeting new people. I apologize in advance since that usually means I talk either not enough or to much. Please don't let that keep you from reaching out if you want to.13. If my RP tag is on, then we are good to go. If it's off, hit me OOC first and we can probably change that.14. 13 is an unlucky number xD