sabrael ibsen

"One day, young hawk, thou shalt sail beneath the silvered moon."

H I S T O R Y

Sabrael Ibsen was born in Garlean-occupied territory, into a cult of Garlean deserters and resistors who believed that summoning the Primals back to Hydaelyn was the only way to restore peace. The Empire, having banned all religion from being practiced of course heavily frowned upon any forms of worship at all - much less one focused on summoning Primals - took immediate action upon hearing about the cult from one of their spies. The cult's destruction was swift and clinical, with the high priests (two of which were Sabrael's parents) undergoing a "trial" followed by a swift execution at the nearest Castrum. Lower ranking members had the option of reeducation and conscription or simply execution, while the children, Sabrael included, were taken in by the Imperial Army to be trained as soldiers.Much of his life in the Imperial Army training school is a blur of sleepless nights and sore muscles. Despite consistently ranking as high - Or in some cases, higher - than squadron leaders in marksmanship and tactical planning, he lacked the temperament and resolve of a frontline soldier. He froze up when it came time to report, he'd choke when asked to display his skill in front of a crowd, and the thought of fighting other people (even his fellow conscripts) sent him into such fits of panic he had to be sent to the infirmary on plenty an occasion. At the official recommendation of the Legatus who was overseeing his (attempts) at infantry training, he was instead reassigned to the Engineering Corps, where he was content as he could be to be left out of the fighting and work with his hands and his mind instead of his fists and his weapons. Such reassignments were not uncommon within the ranks - Garlemald wished to use every resource at her disposal to the fullest of potential, and forcing a brilliant engineering mind to clumsily stumble through the ranks of the infantry was a waste when there were plenty of capable infantrymen and far fewer scientists to go around.As Sabrael grew older, and more unhappy and uncomfortable in the ranks of the Imperial Army, stranger and stranger occurrences were noted to happen around him. Small machines would short out, readings would come out incorrect, and coming too close into contact with antimagic devices would leave him sick for days. Conscripts who could use magic were far from uncommon in the army, but in Sabrael's case, he had been tested for magic potential during his initial conscription and whatever latent ability he may have possessed judged not significant enough for magical training. Despite his increasingly frantic protests, Sabrael was put through rigorous testing to find out exactly what the issue was. After months of grueling tests, a conjurer formerly of Gridania pinpointed that the exact issue was Sabrael's aether was overwhelmingly aspected toward light - And the Garlean tech, not accustomed to such a strongly concentrated ball of energy, was fritzing out upon contact.Wrongly believing Sabrael to have been some failed experiment of the cult of his birth or harboring some secret magics, he was immediately seized by top Garlean scientists and locked away. He doesn't remember how long he was their captive, only vague flashes of horrifying experiments and tests all in the name of advancing Garlean science - And that there were others there, just like him, whose aether tipped too heavily into one element or another. The last clear memory Sabrael has of his time with the Garleans was being locked up and relocated to the Cartenenau Flats, where Dalamud was falling. There were panicked scientists, machinery, wires and needles in his skin, immense pain and then - Nothing.Sabrael isn't sure if he died in the Calamity. He woke up in the wreckage of Cartenau, surrounded by burnt out Garlean war machines and the ashes of the fallen. In his hand was a small sun-shaped crystal, which hummed when he clutched it and sent whispers - Hear. Feel. Think. - through his mind. He searched the Flats for hours, and didn't find a single living soul. Alone in a strange land, Sabrael did the only thing he could think to do. He gathered what he could that had been spared being obliterated - A rifle, spare ammo, a spear, a pack and miraculously, a full canteen of water - And he began to walk.He walked without any sense of direction but a vague pull in his soul, and those whispers in his mind. He lost track of time in the wilderness, only knowing he never stopped for more than a few hours sleep and to hunt game as he had been taught in his first life, so long ago. The Calamity had utterly changed the landscape he'd studied so carefully back in the army, and soon he found himself in the bitter cold of Coerthas. Not dressed for the weather, the only thing that kept him warm was the small sun-shaped crystal, which he would hold as close as he could in the freezing nights. It was one of these nights he was set upon by beasts during a blizzard - Visibility low, down to his last bullet, Sabrael was backed against a sheer cliff face in the pitch black dark. Suddenly filled with an uncharacteristic fury to have come so far only to be laid low by void-warped animals - Sabrael loaded his rifle and aimed, praying. Who he was praying to wasn't clear - The voice behind the whispers? The Twelve? Himself? He pulled the trigger with the sun-crystal in his hand, and for the world exploded in brilliant sunlight.Sabrael awoke in a bustling infirmary smelling of incense and woodsmoke. A chiurgeon assigned to watch him overnight seemed delighted to find him lucid, and relayed what had happened while he was unconscious - A dragon attack on the skirts of Ishgard, and Sabrael was the only survivor. The soldiers requested he stay and give a full account of how a dragon had come so close to Ishgard's borders and breathed enough fire to leave a smoking crater behind, and how Sabrael survived, but he shook his head and said he remembered nothing, the sun-crystal clutched so tightly in his palm the rays dug into his skin.The more questions the Inquisitors asked the more Sabrael could see Ishgard's patience and goodwill running thin. He couldn't admit to what really happened - Who would believe him? Worse, if they did believe him, what would they do to him? Visions of being forced through thaumaturgical experiments akin to the ones performed on him in Garlemald flashed through his mind, and he clammed up even further, refusing to give even the barest detail. He overheard the Inquisitors sent for the latest round of questioning speaking one night when he feigned sleep due to his injuries - The consensus was he was an amnesiac and therefore useless to the war at best, or a heretic entering Ishgard under false pretenses at worst. Sabrael knew he couldn't stay any longer. He had to leave.Escaping a closed-off city proved to be far easier than trying to enter it, and as soon as Sabrael was well enough to walk on his own he smuggled himself and what meagre possessions he had to his name out of Ishgard. He was lucky to stumble across a group of knights running supplies to Camp Dragonhead, and stowed away within the cart. He slipped out of sight of the convoy when they stopped outside the city to check their wares, and once more found himself alone in the cold white wastes of Coerthas - But this time, he at least had a map and a sturdy coat, both of which he'd snagged off the supply cart.Following the map, Sabrael made his way through the blizzard-stricken mountains of Coerthas and into the northern forests of the Black Shroud relatively unscathed. His hunting skills had kept him fed (though he found that since that day he awoke on the Flats, he barely needed to eat or sleep as long as he had access to Light) and his innate sense of danger kept him safe. But he knew it wasn't a lifestyle he could keep up forever - Sabrael had no clue what was going on in this strange new land, how much time had passed since Dalamud fell... He had to begin finding answers... No matter what it took.And that was how one warm spring day, everything he owned (threadbare clothes, a bundle of maps, field rations, a waterskin, a pitiful amount of gil, and a surprising number of firearms) tied up tightly in a satchel on his back, Sabrael found himself in the back of a chocobo cart with a friendly midlander merchant and two taciturn, white-haired elezen children, with hopes of joining the Adventurer's Guild to begin scraping by a meagre living. And, well...You know the rest.

General Info
Name: Sabrael Ibsen
Pronunciation: Suh-bray-l (two syllables when said out loud) Ibs-in
Nicknames: Sabby, Sab
Nameday: 15th Sun of the Second Astral Moon (March 15th)
Age: He has NO idea (reality: 36 as of DT)
Race: Elezen
Clan: Duskwight
Gender: Trans male (he/him)
Main Job: Gunslinger (GNB/MCH)Physical Information
Height: 6'"
Body Type: Skinny and lean, angular
Hair Color: Raven-wing black (gray in roots c. SHB)
Eye Color: Bright bright green
Misc. physical: Smattering of light green freckles across cheeks and nose
Misc. mental: Autism, anxiety, panic disorder, PTSD, chronic pain (post-SHB)
Accent: Standard Garlean (British) with a distinctly Northern Ilsabardian (Slavic/Russian) lilt. The Garlean fades the longer he is in Eorzea, with his accent becoming predominantly Northern.
Voice Claim: Harry Lloyd as Viktor in "Arcane"Personal Information
Personality pros: Loyal, kindhearted, intelligent, quick-thinking on his feet, courageous
Personality cons: Takes on too much, insecure, self-sacrificing, easily embarrassed, indecisive
Zodiac Chart: ♓☀️, ♉ 🌙, ♍⬆️, ♍❤️
MBTI: INTP (The Logician)
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Likes: Mechanical objects, numbers, snow, people who are blunt and honest, spaghetti
Dislikes: Crowds, authority figures, one-on-one interaction, politics, liars, doctors
Weapons: Hawkmoon (gunblade), Lumina (revolver), Devil's Dawn (sniper rifle), Invective (shotgun), and Lord of Wolves (automatic rifle).fun facts & trivia here!gallery here! (WIP rn)

STORY RELEVANT FACTS
• Did, in fact, die during the Battle of Cartenau Flats when Dalamud fell. Hydaelyn used the extremely strong connection he had to the Light to guide his soul from the lifestream back to his body, and revive him using the Blessing of Light.
• Had been dead for two and a half years when he was resurrected. He initially does not know he died. He only knows that he's... Different now.
• He later realizes it's very likely he died, and Emet-Selch confirms he did when taunting him in Shadowbringers.
• Only Minfilia and Y'shtola were initially privy to his "oddities" for a long time - Minfilia because she was Sabrael's best friend, and Y'shtola because she could "see", and asked for an explanation. The rest of the Scions find out gradually, most of them not knowing everything until Shadowbringers.
• Was terrified to return to Ishgard proper or meet Aymeric post-ARR because he was worried he would be some sort of wanted man. Ishgard herself had mainly forgotten about him, but... The Inquisitors had not. There is extreme tension between the Church and Sabrael from the start, however not from Aymeric himself at all.
• During Stormblood, Sabrael takes his position as WoL much more seriously and stops second-guessing himself and questioning "why me" - He decides it doesn't matter why it falls to him, only that it does fall to him, and he should act the part, and begins training heavily to become an extremely skilled fighter.
• Due in part to his training as a fighter, his own efforts to master the unique way his Blessing manifests, and his heavily skewed Light aether, Sabrael unlocks a new ability while fighting Zenos in Doma where he can summon weapons of light to float in the air and fight alongside him, as well as form shields and constructs. (It's Noctis doing the Armiger from FFXV, but guns.)
• Once he rejoins with Ardbert, his aether stabilizes and "normalizes". All of Sabrael's oddities - his dulled pain receptors, his lack of need to sleep or eat, his constant warmth - disappear. He still has the Blessing and Echo, of course, though.PERSONAL FACTS
• Rarely speaks - Initially, he was too shy and awkward to do so. After he gained more confidence, he's a man of few spoken words. He typically has other speak for him, and doesn't mind when they do.
• Not that confident in basic Eorzean language, often worries he'll make mistakes in his own speech despite the Echo.
• Picked up Doman Sign Language from Yugiri post-ARR, and learned Eorzean Sign Language through Tataru. He prefers to speak in sign most of the time - All the main Scions know ESL (Sharlayan studium requirement) and have it taught to the others as a means of message passing along, so he's understood just fine. One of the Scions translates for him if they're ever in the presence of someone who doesn't know sign.
• Not a fan of airship or air travel - Something about being in a large vehicle flying through the air unnerves him. Is fine with flying short distances low to the ground on his chocobo, Sparrow, and is fine with boat travel.
• Greatest fear in the world is being captured and unable to defend himself. Being helpless, used as a lab rat, a prisoner in his own body and mind.
• Extremely touch-averse due to trauma and autism, but knows most people mean well and tries not to hurt their feelings and react too badly to accidental or friendly touch.
• Despite his abysmal performance in the Garlean infantry, is an extremely dedicated warrior when he's on the right side of the fight who is always improving. He was genuinely sort of skating by on the Blessing at first, but gets better with time.
• A unique proponent of Sabrael's Echo manifests as a form of clairvoyance where if he is innately aware of the location of anyone or anything he is attempting to find - Often he is unaware he is even using this ability, he is just simply always on the right track.
• Despite being cripplingly shy and extremely panicked and uncomfortable with social interaction at first, Sabrael will always go out of his way to attempt to console someone who is suffering, even at a loss to his own well-being.
• He becomes much more sure of himself the longer time goes on. By the end of Stormblood he has a strong, quiet confidence, and has learned to wield the Blessing of Light as both shield and sword to use himself as a weapon and bulwark to protect everyone he can. He even talks of his own free will! ... Sometimes. He even makes the rare joke, and has a surprisingly cutting wit.
• Once he rejoins with Ardbert and loses the "quirks" of his corrupted aether, Sabrael suffers from chronic pain from pushing his body so far past the brink for so long and has to relearn to fight safely.AETHER / BLESSING RESURRECTION WEIRDNESS
• Requires less physical food than average, only eating about once or twice a week - If he has regular access to direct sunlight. He can sustain himself off Light aether alone for the most part.
• Requires less sleep than average, often only truly resting one or two nights a week. Often takes quick thirty minute catnaps in the sun to recharge.
• Extremely prone to aether sickness. Avoids using aetheryte travel if at all possible, preferring to walk or fly by chocobo. Post-Ardbertification, it still makes him very queasy and nauseous, but not on the scale it did before.
• Difficult for him to feel physical pain, as shrouded and protected by the Light as he is. This is very useful for transcending limits a normal warrior could not reach and withstanding abuse a normal body would crumble under.
• Freakishly enhanced strength, speed, and stamina.
• Little to no issue with extreme low temperatures due to his own aetherical temperament - His inner Light keeps him warm, so to speak. He personally doesn't care for hot environments but they also do not adversely affect him.

Svarog, the Seat of Azem

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