A Moonborn Warrior

Qira entered the world on dawn when the Guiding Horn constellation A’Shakh blazed overhead. Tribal elders still recall how those three bright stars heralded her arrival—an unspoken promise that she would carry the Matron’s ancient mantle. Descended from a storied line of moonborn warriors, each was born when A’Shakh hung high in the spring sky. Tales passed down in whispers speak of the first Matron who once stepped into a circle of moonlit Allagan ruins and emerged imbued with aether. Though her gift was long thought divine, many silently wondered if that power sprang from arcane experiments rather than a true blessing.At fifteen summers, Qira undertook her Dzo Trials - a midnight sprint through a wind‑scoured canyon that included three separate trials. Her arms were marked with painted dzo horn sigils. A moonborn warrior was fast, courageous, and above all someone to guide and lead. She encountered an unforgiving and dangerous route where she would be ambushed by other warriors set to break her resolve. To run and to fight? That was easy for her. The final trial, however, was to lead three blindfolded tribe members through that terrain through the canyon without them being injured. Just as the sun touched the horizon, Qira emerged, her wards safely in tow, breathless but unbroken.Once earning her place as a moonborn warrior, Qira was gifted a colt that she was to train and raise to suit her needs and riding style best. There is no one she would rather encounter hardship with than Tsagaan Saranor - a pale stallion. In everyday life, she calls him Saranor, and that is how all others would know him. The full name was sacred, for they alone to know and hear. She would often speak to the children of the tribe, telling of her adventures and then whispering that Saranor’s hoofprints glimmered like silver threads weaving through the Steppe as an embellishment.Though Nhaama never speaks directly to her, Qira feels the Dusk Mother’s presence in every action that she makes. In quiet moments, she would let the Steppe's winds speak to her, forging a bond between her mortal heart and the goddesses' spirit — one she guards as fiercely as her own life.

A Tragic Interlude

It is known that the Steppe does not forgive weakness, yet when Qira first crossed paths with Isembar Basevi, her heart betrayed her own wariness. He was everything she was not: elegant silks of Ala Mhigo, soft laughter that sparkled like lanterns against night sky, and an easy faith in tomorrow. She taught him to ride with the wind; he taught her that even a hardened warrior could find peace in companionship. Qira, for the first time, let herself believe in a future beyond the next sunrise.For three years, they journeyed across Etheirys’ great cities and forgotten coasts. In Radz-at-Han, he pressed a slender ring of silver into her palm in the middle of the busy bazaar. In Limsa Lominsa, she led him down salt-covered docks, laughing as he chased frightened gulls into the spray. And when he whispered, “Together, we’ll build more than a story - we’ll build a legacy,” Qira’s chest swelled with a love she’d thought reserved only for the characters in the storyteller's stories.On an average day, on a barren stretch of road between the Ruby Sea and the Azim Steppe, the Steppe’s true nature revealed itself. A raiding band caught them unaware. Qira fought like a tempest given form, each battle cry a plea to Nhaama above. But Isembar, unarmed and unprepared, stood between her and the first arrow. It struck him in the chest. Time slowed around her, and her cry echoed until the wind swallowed it. She cradled her dying husband beneath the stars they once worshiped together.When the last of his warmth faded, Qira felt something in her fracture irrevocably. She rose, blood on her hands and tears drying on her face, and with trembling fingers claimed his signet ring—his name and his wealth—as her own. From that night onward, she bore not only the mantle of a moonborn warrior but the weight of a trading company. The Basevi Trading Company—once a merchant’s dream—became a living monument to a love both fierce and fleeting, a reminder etched in every caravan’s trail and job completed.

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Hooks

Bayaqud Tribe

Peoples of the Steppe

Basevi Trading Co. Employees

Thavnairian Nights Employees

Merchants & Vendors

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