#ryder bailey

[thebaileymail]

LFRP: Ryder Bailey

The Basics ––– –

Race: Hyuran Midlander

Gender: Male.

Sexuality: Homosexual

Marital Status: Single

Age: Twenty-one

Birthday: Fourteenth of the Third Astral Moon.

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Natural brunette; currently dyed a wheat blond.

Eyes: Blue-green, often bloodshot from fogweed consumption, and wide-eyed with excitement.

Height: Five fulms and nine ilms.

Build: On the cusp between muscular and lithe. Ryder spends much of his time exercising, running about and maintaining a generally healthy lifestyle.

Distinguishing Marks: Although Ryder has no salient marks on his visible form, the man almost always beams with something of an infectious smile.

Common Accessories: A long rifle strapped to his back, whom Ryder lovingly refers to as Olga. Sometimes whizzing around him is something of a metal contraption, not dissimilar to what one would think a crappily made magitek bit would look like.

Personal ––– –

Profession: Treasure hunter, bard

Hobbies: Writing, exploring, making friends, cooking, blitzball

Languages: Common, Ilsabardian

Residence: Lavender Beds, the Drunken Moogle

Birthplace: The city-state of Sharlayan, in Dravania.

Religion: Common belief in the Twelve. Affinity to Thaliak

Patron Deity: Thaliak

Fears: Death, loneliness, being rendered immobile, ancient curses, not being good enough, Garlean weapons of mass destruction

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: None.

Children: None.

Parents: Sandy Bailey (Mother), Kenneth Bailey (Father)

Siblings: None.

Other Relatives: A few of Ryder’s aunts, uncles and cousins live with his parents in the Old World.

Pets: Bella, his ‘magitek bit’.

Traits ––– -

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Ryder is not seen smoking often. Instead, he will bake fogweed brownies (with gunpowder added for an extra kick) for himself and his friends rather often. Alcohol: Moderately.

RP Hooks ––– –

Treasure hunter: Cryptic caves, magical memento and curious curio; those are but a few of the things which light the twinkle in Ryder’s eyes. He can be found by wayward travelers in mystifying hotspots of treasure and danger, or by any market, attempting to vend off his dismal magical finds to (un)willing merchants.

Bard: Fantastic fables and captivating canticles are what Ryder brings to life as he regales tales of his adventures, and of the many people he has come across during his travels. He fancies himself something of a bard. And, as such, he loves hearing stories and turning them into songs. He believes all should be immortalized through tales and music, and he seeks to do exactly that.

Overwhelmingly personable: Ryder has something of an animated attitude about him; his infectious smile beaming towards any and all. He has no quarrel with walking up to strangers, exchanging stories or banter. If anything, it is one of the things he loves most.

Past acquaintances: I’m open to pre-established relationships with Ryder, whether it be as a past friend in Tailfeather where he grow up, a distant family member, or anything else, so long as it feels right!

Sniper: Ryder battles with his trusted rifle, Olga. He can be hired, for the right price, to perform all manner of combative functions, including bodyguard work, hunting, or even assassinations if it is legally approved. 

Dim-witted: Although resourceful, blessed with a few wise moments, Ryder is a little dumb. A tendency to believe that people are inherently good mixed with a clear lack of intelligence has the Hyur easily manipulated to do, perhaps, unsavoury things.

Versatile: Ryder is designed to be able to be proactive in nearly any environment. I can easily give him reasons to be just about anywhere. 

Contact Information  ––– –

You can contact me here on tumblr - or on discord (Roy#0437), and I’ll be delighted to work something out!

I’m European, although I’m known to stay up unreasonably late for a good scene, especially nowadays!

I’m mostly looking for something beyond slice of life RP. Rather, I’m in favour of long-term connections which provide my character with ample development outside of your usual taverns. (I’m also a sucker for open world RP)

My characters are lore-abiding, and I’m personally most interested in other characters that are as well. Stretching or bending lore is absolutely awesome, but things that directly go against what the game has provided us with is just not my cup of tea, sorry!

I am a big fan of DM’ing small events for a few people (whether freeform or with /randoms). Noble parties, research, adventuring, name it and I’ll be keen to do it so long as it provides some measure of character development (and it pretty much always does). Although Ryder’s adventures are most often focused on treasure hunting!

[thebaileymail]

Tinkerer’s Hut, Ryder Bailey’s apartment

[thebaileymail]

A happy place

It had been two days since Ryder had been confined to his bed in the infirmary. Or imprisoned, felt like a more fitting word, with the myriad of steel bars and tubes keeping him in place, disappearing beneath his skin were they worked their magi(te)k. They were affixed to the device by his bed, which emitted the most humdrum, inharmonious bleeps the Hyur could have imagined. It grated the bard on a deep level, and so much of his time was spent attempting to drum a fitting beat to the repetitive discordance. That had quickly disinterested him as well, leaving the only available activity to think and wonder.

And he did, for hours on end, when he could not find sleep, when unconsciousness lay but an ilm out of reach. If only he could keep dreaming, and let his subconsciousness whisk him away to his happy place. A place of endless joy, by the beach perhaps, underneath the warm, comfortable sun. There, his peripheral would be congested with the joyous faces of friends. Ryder imagined them, one by one; that picture had his lips curling upwards into a happy smile.

Some of those friends had stopped by. Some of them, Ryder had not told of his condition. Some of them had messaged him via linkpearl. But still, there was a loneliness that crept up on the Hyur, in the back of his mind. 

His mind began to wander again as that feeling grew all the more prominent. Would he be in the happy places of other people, too? He liked to imagine so. Probably somewhere in the back, providing food and snacks and perhaps a tale of adventures long past. But not in the foreground. Not in the central part of someone’s happy place. 

Ryder’s smile was washed away by his own unchecked musings. His legs curled up on themselves, and he turned on his bed, causing the feeling of the numerous tubes protruding from his person to become all the more prominent. His right index finger traversed upwards, trailing along his sore neck. He felt the hard metal of the replacement, where his larynx had been. Then further up, his warm digit felt along the surface of his eye replacements, brows furrowed as he felt no discomfort. In fact, there was no feeling at all there.

This was it. He was to speak with a voice that was not his own, look with eyes that did not belong to him, scooped from a rotting corpse. His blood - or, was it even his own blood - was pumped by a heart from that same cadaver. Anxiety was coerced upon Ryder by his own thoughts, prompting him to run hurried breaths through his new lungs. It began to feel as though an iron grip tightened around them. Ceruleum-powered eyes dashed from left to right as his chest thumped, searching for something salient to calm the Hyur down.

The discordant beeping of the nearby machine accelerated; it distracted Ryder momentarily, and he remembered what his mother taught him when he felt growing panic.

His eyes forced shut as the image of his happy place was resuscitated, he felt the imaginary sun upon his cheeks, the scent of freshly baked pastry filled his nostrils. There was music and dancing and swimming. There were games and laughter and stories. It sufficiently calmed him down for the passing moment.

But, he began to wonder, after a leisurely time spent in that imaginary wonderland, how would I feel if someone in the background of my happy place were to be gone? I would be sad for a bit maybe, but then all that sadness would be overwhelmed by all the other people, right? And I would be all right again.

Some people would miss me a whole bunch, Ryder’s subconsciousness argued. Like mum and dad, and Rhyan. Maybe that’s it, though.

As a growing negativity mounted, the revitalisation of the image of his happy place grew all the more difficult. His thoughts rather focused on what had been, what is, and what will be. 

At least, with a new lease on life, he could assure that, perhaps he too would be in the center of people’s happy places.

[thebaileymail]

Ephemeral Echoes

A lonesome figure sat perched upon a branch, veiled by a makeshift net of twigs, leaves and dirt that had been draped over them. They watched the on-goings down below, some fifty yalms down: a patrol of soldiers walking in nigh perfect tandem, adorned with Garlemald’s colours, safeguarding the woods. Grasped tautly between the gauntleted digits of the figure was a sizeable firearm, its thin barrel, as long as most Lalafell, stuck out through the net of foliage, set upon its quarry like a hawk. Warm breath escaped the figure’s chapped lips, billowing outward into the freezing air. As nearly all air left the lungs, a thunderous crash shot through the forest. Birds flocked to safety and forest critters fled to their homes as an empty cartridge plummeted to the muddy ground below. 

A biting ache spread through his lungs as he inhaled the intense winter air. His eyes cast away from his quarry, sparing himself the sight of a lifeless body collapsing into the mud below. He did not take joy in the act of killing. It was a necessary evil, the Hyur had told himself, at least they feel little to no pain. Ryder’s nimble gauntleted fingers coiled around the rusty lever of the weathered firearm; it had seen decades of use already, but he had hoped it would see many more. The lever was pulled back, pushed back into place with a silent click. He exhaled again. Another bullet fired.

Ryder

He had more or less painted the ground crimson, where the patrol had been reduced to a stockpile of bodies down below. Still there was no art to it, Ryder kept reminding himself. Still as a statue, he waited until he deemed the area safe. When he felt the area was appropriately secure, Ryder discarded the brown cloak, revealing below a set of lightweight armour, fashioned from various Garlean constructs, and welded together expertly. Ryder grappled down, and sought to investigate the bodies.

Ryder

A yellow glint emerged on the surface of his eyes. It caught his attention but before the chance to look arose, that glint had grown into a salient speck which thrust upon the Hyur a sinister outcome. Ryder found a blazing inferno, an orb of compact carnage making for his position. He plucked his cold hands from the corpse of a soldier he had shot, and sought to evade. He was cast aside by the force of the impact; it sent him airborne, and a reverberating crack shot through his body as his ribs met with a tree.

Ryder

Pain washed over his entire person as he recollected himself. The heat of the burns blended painfully with the cold winter air. A quick glance was cast to the source of the previous attack. A bipedal metal construct entered Ryder’s peripheral as he did, its colossal form zipping effortlessly through the thick woodland. When its metal maw opened wide, and gave way to a growing ember, Ryder knew to scamper off. His grappling hook shot outward, and briefly thereafter, the Hyur pulled himself free from the ground.

Ryder

It had been a bell. Marred and drained of energy, the Hyur still sought to scurry out of the woodland. Every so often, he hid, hoping that the search party would lose track. But they were like bloodhounds. They had gotten his scent, and were only drawing nearer. Defeated, the Hyur positioned himself in a clearing. He would at least take some out with him. Death had always frightened Ryder; but in that moment, he welcomed it with open arms.

Ryder

More crimson was drawn, painting a picture of defeat in the snow beneath Ryder. He fell, and his frozen fingers no longer could grasp the rifle. His eyes gazed up into the sky as he lay on his back, cutting through the thick boughs above for a final view of the sky. Swiftly, that view came to be obstructed by the barrel of a gun.

“..Ryder, gods damn it! Your mum need your help out in the garden.”

“--Huh? Wh- right, coming, pa, just-- give me.. give me a tick!”

[thebaileymail]

Although many harbour strong beliefs in this deity, temples are few and far inbetween strewn about the world. Instead, small shrines and statuettes of the dancing man lay replete in the homes and workplaces of devotees. They are simply crafted; often by local woodworkers. When one faces a dilemma, they but need think of the dancing man and coerced upon them will be an epiphany. It is said as though one might feel their body swaying on their own, swaying toward the decision in those dilemmas.

RYDER BAILEY-

Patron deity of the indecisive - of commoners and richfolk - of epiphanies, clarity, fortune and precognition

Associated with: Glimpses into the future, gut feelings, dreams, dilemmas, sudden clarity, deja vu, friendship, dancing, freedom of choice, liberty, boundless fortune, happiness

Sacred plants: Fogweed plants

Sacred stones/gems: Sapphire, ruby and emerald

Sacred animals: Hummingbird

Colours: Black, white, light grey, navy blue, medium blue and golden yellow

Accepted offerings: Companionship through stories, dreams and aspirations of the future, gil

Foods: Rye breads, cocoa beans, fresh fruits

Tagged by: @whitherwanderer​ (THANKS! :D)

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it!

[thebaileymail]

Ryder

Ryder Carrd

First carrd page made! \o/

[thebaileymail]

Send “#” for a RANDOM text.

[The number you are trying to text is a landline]

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[thebaileymail]

Neither me nor Ryder really know how to use this flamethrower.