Doubtless you have seen many a person like her on your travels, with how frequently the landscapes are dotted with adventurers from the various guilds and free companies that call the world their home. She is as standard as they come: ever-prepared with a pack and always willing to lend a helping hand to any that wish to ask it of her.

One good look is all it would take to know she is a veteran of the craft - though she herself would not deny that she is an adventurer of some measure of renown (though she insists on sparing her any titles for the parts she may have played) - and such a look would only be worthwhile to offer if you yourself did not recognise her outright... for she has practically walked across every ilm of the world accessible to her. She knows names; she recalls faces; she is ever-ready to rekindle a bond and forge new ones with people, should they be willing.

Compassionate; helpful; resourceful; optimistic. She is not beholden to the beatings she may have received from life's known cruelties - and those who know her know that she is not a spirit easily broken, nor a person easily stopped once she starts.

‣ She is immediately identifiable as a half-elezen due to her pointed ears and rather sharp canines, which are easy to spot given how frequently she smiles.

‣ The woman is rarely seen with her hair down for more than a few seconds. Instead, she ties it up in a rather messy bun; an easy identifier to find her in a crowd.

‣ Any who find themselves within the circle of influence of the Adventurers' Guild of Eorzea will doubtless recognise her as a fairly common sight in their respective bases of operation. While she may have flown further from its nest in recent years, she is ever-eager to return to reminisce with the patronage... and also to pick up a levequest or three, for good measure.

‣ While she does not make a point to admit to it outright, her good deeds betray her rather quickly as a being with the Echo, both due to the frequency at which she's near the location of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and also to the many stories of the white-haired woman taking to the front lines when the threat of a primal looms. Of course, one could also assume her to be fool-hardy... but with her distinct lack of tempering, and the rate at which she seems to find herself in such dangers, it is not particularly difficult to string together.

‣ Veterans of Carteneau will recognise her as one of the few adventurers who agreed to aid the Grand Companies to defend against the Garlean incursion. While her reputation as an adventurer was well known, and her skill in small-scale duels was plain, she stuck out rather quickly on the fields as someone who knew not the ways of war. Not that it stopped her, of course, from offering her aid.

‣ She has continued her reputation as an adventurer involved in warfare, despite not having joined an official military (though she has improved significantly since Carteneau). Veterans of the Dragonsong War; Resistance Members for the liberation of Ala Mhigo and Doma; those who fought on Bozja's frontlines and those who presented themselves to defend against the horrors of the Final Days will have spotted her there: fighting alongside countrymen and militia alike.

‣ She is soft-spoken and careful with her chosen words. For all of the enthusiasm she shows when fighting, it is not at all reflected in how she presents herself outside of combat: quiet, reserved and private but with clear enthusiasm and a genuine interest in whatever she may be pursuing. It can be easy to wonder what her motives are for doing all she does but she appears to want for nothing and seems truly satisfied with simply performing the good deed in and of itself.

She does not deceive when saying she is well-versed in the art of adventure. Practically born for it - and shaped by it in equal measure. What she has seen has not always been kind - nor is it always a story easily told - but the fire in her heart burns ever-bright, and constantly seeks out the call - to quest; to aid; to help; to explore. No matter whether magnificent or mundane, you will find Dawnstrider nearby.

You may not know her by name - perhaps intentionally so - but for any that has ventured beyond their homestead (and perhaps, in some cases, even those who have not), the snow-haired, beaming-grinned half-elezen is unmistakably recognisable. For how could she not be, with a history so colourful? It is a wonder, really, that there are any stories left to tell - yet she is ever on the move... so surely there must be. Or perhaps she is simply a spirit that knows not how to cease.

Every story has its beginning - and Dawnstrider’s tale begins here: borne between the bordering regions of Gyr Abania and The Black Shroud amidst an era of brewing tension and conflict between neighbouring nations; a continued consequence - however beneficial to the current age - of the Autumn War sparked by pompous political figures and egocentric kings.

More common than one would think, however, to find a passionate union in the face of unbridled tensity and fury. Two souls, hailing from the respective nations, sought comfort in the arms of one another; the exceptions to one another’s rule. A single night together tied the pair eternally, cemented yet further by the news of pregnancy… and progeny.

Dawnstrider’s legacy was borne of their decision - and desire - to allow her the opportunity they did not have: to experience a moment of peace betwixt a world of continuous chaos. They laid claim to a hunting log cabin, right on the border between the two regions, and gifted to their daughter her own name; a reminder, to them, of who she was - one who, through existence alone, would bring to them a new dawn… and would take the world in her stride; at her own pacing.

The pair offered her a place of warmth and comfort between the trees - away from prying eyes. The two guardians would seldom be together, after her initial year of existence, instead opting to continue their respective lives in parallel to their life with the young half-elezen. A selfish decision, in some sense, for neither wished to let go of what they had: her Ala Mhigan father, while no fan of the Mad King, took pride in his position as a guardsman and paladin both; her Gridanian mother, a prominent member of the God’s Quiver, knew better than to barter with the elementals that continued to hold a grudge against any Ala Mhigans - righteous or not.

For better or worse, they juggled their lives - and their responsibilities to their daughter - and prepared her for a world that would offer her little, if anything, in return. While her father gave her the room to explore and to breathe and adventure, her mother would prepare her for survival; for confrontation and inevitable conflict, in a world that was so often full of it.

Together, they gave all they were able - until shattered, unceremoniously, at the hands of the Garlean invasion that swept the sovereign nation and cloaked the land with its iron curtain. The young Dawnstrider fled at her mother’s request, taking only a small satchel of necessities with her as she made way for the Shroud’s border in the hopes of slipping by unnoticed.

…she succeeded, with the help of a miqo’te merchant, though not unscathed. It remains, to this day, the only scar she is forced to bear publicly: the prominent wound across her face, gifted to her so graciously by a Garlean soldier that did not appreciate her incessant wriggling nor aptitude for a bow.

Once beyond the border - she would not return again until she had come of age. Fortunate was she that her foundation had been paved; that her mother had planned enough to see her daughter through to her adolescence and into adulthood. The pair, however, faded into obscurity - only whispers of their names remain.

The miqo’te that had aided her was, believe it or not, the man known to the masses as Rexonus Firalux - proprietor of the esteemed and established Firelight Trading Company… though it was, of course, not always so. A humbler man, back then, at least in terms of his wealth and opulence - but Beau has ever had the tenacity and impeccable ability to thaw even the cruellest and most frozen of hearts.

…not that the miqo’te fell into that category, of course, but he was a jaded man who insisted that his protections were merely due to ample payment being offered to him. He would have the world believe that he’d have left the poor girl behind with the Garleans, had he not been paid enough, yet he was a known smuggler; a resistance fighter even before such a resistance existed as a group.

Whether he wanted it or not he took the young girl under his wing - and granted her sanctuary within his travelling caravan; protection among his hearth fire and safety within its firelight. Whether she wanted it or not, she would find herself ever at his side. Wheresoever her adventures took her; wheresoever she wandered… she always returned to share her stories, confess her feelings and listen to the lessons he had to share.

He was her family away from her family - his silent promise made to parents' past - and even as the duo grew, and the name of Firelight became a prominent name amongst Ul’dahn businesses, they have ever returned to each other. Though he would leave the young Dawnstrider to fend for herself in the city-states as she continued to grow, she would always grin upon seeing him return. Likewise, when she faded to nothing - thought to be dead, some allude - he waited with bated breath and welcomed with open arms upon Dawnstrider’s return to him.

For how close they are, it should come as no surprise that she is well-invested in his business - chasing contracts and bounties like she does her adventures - and they in kind keep the warrior very busy… though, not without breathing room.

Breathing room she utilises to simply find yet more work for herself - though the company can at least say they tried.

Dawnstrider was not a fighter - never has been - but with Eorzea’s climes and growing conflicts… she found out rather quickly - and in a most brutal manner - how her desire to aid would necessitate developing skillsets that far exceeded her current ilk. She knew how to hunt and how to gather; she had found a livelihood in aiding the Botanists of Gridania in acquiring materials and, for a time, was rather content with the idea of growing up to become a florist or botanist of some kind.

…yet the woman’s got a bleeding heart, through and through, and all’s it took was one plea for aid to have her follow the call - until those that required help needed more than someone who was good at picking flora.

Conjury became the woman’s first true delve into combat, thanks to the aid of the God’s Quiver (who, while not caring to admit her aptitude for a bow, could admit she was good at hunting with it) and the Adventurer’s Guild based in the Carine Canopy, but they should have really known from her initial foray into the craft that she would hear anyone’s plea.

Her skills as a fighter were hardly unmatched - but her drive to help was a burning fire within her; a spirit unquenched and unsatisfied until all those around her were. A bit of a perfectionist, perhaps, yet few found reason to stop her when her reasoning was sound and her optimism was so infectious.

A blessing, honestly, that she knew her limitations - and rather than delve head-first into a situation far beyond her she would, at least, work to hone her skills further.

Dawnstrider was not a fighter - never has been - but with the masses requiring aid that exceeded even her own healing capability… she would, as she once wished to, have to follow in her parent’s footsteps. She wanted to protect; defend; stand valiantly against the oncoming storms and weather them for the sake of those who could - or would - not.

Good fortune, then, that her guardian was a travelling sort. No sooner had she expressed her desire - and frustration - to become better than she was did he have her upon his merchant caravan, winding through the Shroud and heading instead to Thanalan. First, to the Pugilists. Then, the gladiators. Both took her under their wing and taught her the brutal arithmetic of combat - forged within the fires of the coliseum.

She rose to the challenge like any other, and soon found joy - or perhaps it was a thrill - in pit fighting. She held no specialism, but her fire still burned as bright as it did for her passion to aid and protect. Try as folks might, they could not keep her pinned to the sands for long. Undying, they would say, much like the city-state they had built. Is it any wonder they called her, in jest, their primal?

Though that life is far, far behind her now - not that they would turn away the Primal of the Undying Sands from re-surfacing - though she is in need of the money from their winnings and bettings far less… and far more pressing matters have swept her attention now. Fortune strikes you if you’ve a poster from the time! A rare commodity, indeed, to see her young visage growling front and centre. You’d be forgiven if you didn’t recognise her from it.

Dawnstrider was not a fighter - never has been - but in that arena, she became a multi-tool of combat prowess: a capable swordswoman; a talented magic-wielder; a sharpshooter with a longbow… and one to throw a damn good punch.

Dawnstrider’s neverending quest to improve herself and her skills took her to the shores of La Noscea. Stories had reached the half-elezen’s ears about the good and honest work of the merchant ships that docked there and engaged in local and international trade. Fighting still wasn’t commonplace in her soul, and her winnings from the arena were not enough to keep food on the table.

Thus did she turn to the work of sailors and seafaring folks; to pirates and merchants alike. She scoured the docks in search of any who would take her and her lack of experience on board. Many laughed and turned her away, naturally, but one particularly dreary vessel - long past its prime - took a liking to her skillset of healing… and though her combat prowess, at the time, left much to be desired… it was enough to welcome her aboard.

The Wolfsbane, they called it: once a jewel on the shores, now nothing more than a deadbeat hoisted by a deadbeat. A tale in and of itself, for the Captain at the mantle was as stubborn and hard-headed as they could come, though their brashness didn’t sway or bother Dawnstrider any. She welcomed it, in fact, and was glad to learn from one Koret Swan of the horrors the world could offer… and the odd comfort the seas could bring, in spite of their unknown depths and unpredictable patterns.

Many do say that once folks find their calling on the seas they rarely wish to return to the shores. With how much Beau took to the lifestyle, it was a wonder that she could pry herself free from the vessel when it would dock. More so when considering the many ventures, tales and wares she brought back to the shores - told freely and openly with a wanderlust sparkling in her eye - yet she, as ever, would always be seeking the next adventure.

To and fro, she would go. Living life upon the seas and then upon lands. Though the warrior may have outgrown her vessel (and the ones that came after it, to boot, though the tale of the Vector Gallica is one kept closer still to the warrior's chest) the crew to this day still leave a space for her at their side…

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

There are whispers of the half-elezen being one of Hydaelyn's chosen - one gifted with the Echo - which led her to these people: to the Path (later known as the Scions) and to purpose.

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

She was there - at Carteneau. A zealous warrior; a noble knight... a frightened, out-of-her-depth adventurer, working tirelessly to keep morale. Lost, supposedly, in a blinding ray of light.

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

Off the radar, for a time, though the young half-elezen re-surfaced some five years later - to begin again the path of adventure, with a new sense of purpose. As if she had been here before.

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

Back to the battlefield - this time upon soil foreign to her - for the sake of saving a nation that had been forged in the fires of war.

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

Dawnstrider had been involved with the Ala Mhigan Resistance for far, far too long to not be a prominent presence when her nation called for aid.

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

So good had she gotten with revolution that she chose to aid in another's - kindled with the inspiration of her own successes.

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

The Final Days. Or so they should have been - had Dawnstrider not danced upon the horizon of the burning Thavnair. Though, how much could one woman do, really...?

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

Years of adventure had kept her strong - and dulled her spirit none - yet the scope of her ventures had gotten a little... out of scope. For the third time in her life, she returned to guilds - to taverns - and to levequests. Simpler times.

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

In her endeavour to find herself (and her free time), the warrior has taken to exploring local haunts. You may find her at such places - particularly Wyld Hunt and Roommates - where she had offered - foolishly or not - to lend aid to a more low-stakes cause. Of course, the purpose was for her to find somewhere to unwind... but such is the process of learning, is it not?

A story that has not yet been fully forged...

She is tight-lipped about her private life - perhaps for good reason - yet she has been unable to circumvent the whisperings of others: of finding her within the comforting arms of contacts, patrons and fellow adventurers alike. From soldiers to sailors and even the very bards who speak of her stories. Dawnstrider herself is quiet, but she opens to these people freely; their whispers of tenderness and affection carrying upon the wind of song...

Hi! Thanks for taking the time out of your day to read this. It means a great deal to both myself and to others who share in writing these pages that you show such an interest. I appreciate you being here and I hope you enjoy reading my content!

Most people call me Sarah, but I’m fine with anything. It's not like Sarah is an uncommon name. I've been roleplaying for 10+ years - but fairly new to in-game RP! I am autistic and shamelessly LGBTQIA+ (hi, I'm grey-ace and pan). I am also perpetually tired. Feel free to chat with me any time - I’m happy to give out my Discord tag upon request!

I am open to roleplaying with anyone and everyone. I am super old school when it comes to interactions so, honestly, just poke me if you’re at all interested and we can work to figure something out. If you’ve any idea at all; a plot you’d like to develop or a simple interaction to get things going - don’t hesitate to contact me. Very rarely have I declined.

Beau is a very optimistic and happy character - but she is still a person, and she has seen a lot! I am constantly interested in exploring one's innermost thoughts as much as I am interested in slice-of-life moments. For the sake of the former, though: content/trigger warnings for violence, war, death, undeath, blood & gore, existentialism & more.

Strictly 18+ interactions only.

I don't do noncon - no exceptions. Too close to home and also why do you want to???

As I said in my notes: I'm autistic and proudly part of the LGBTQIA+ community. I will do everything in my power to harbour a safe and nurturing community for all people who are looking for that. "Safe space" does not apply to racists, homophobes, nazis or people who use the phrase "woke libs" unironically. I'm an avid believer in curating your own space, and I work hard to do just that.