Character

He was 19 years old when Dalamund fell from the sky, but to his family it was a trivial thing "Eorzea has survived 6 Umbral Eras, it'll survive a moon" his parents would tell him. His future was decided, he would take over the family business once his parents had passed. Curiosity burned in his heart and all but drove him mad to think he would never be allowed to roam free.
With words of anger he left his home, just in time to see the moon shatter. The world was red, then white and finally black.
When he awoke, his eyes burned, ears rang and body ached. The sight before him was terrible, the lands engulfed in flames, ash covered everything. The crackling sound echoed through his blood filled ears, all the while a panic began to close around him until it threatened to choke the life from him.
He spun around and in a mad dash, stumbled his way back to his family home.
Wood groaned as it fell to the ground reminding him of his father’s saw and hammer, the smell of ash and ember filled his nose as his mother’s cooking once had, and the cackling flames resounded with his brother and sisters voices. The house was gone, smothered in the embrace of crimson flames. His home, his past....the future he hated so much were gone, and with them all the certainties he had taken for granted... all were lost.
He would recall with distant eyes many years later, how he buried his family where the house had stood, how he found whatever he could in the rubble and began traveling. His life as burnt as the house, all the simple happiness he had felt like ashes in his mouth. He would ride with caravans, travel to far off cities and towns, using what little he had gained form his life at home to make a living for himself.
It would be years of this wandering from place to place, homeless, friendless, hopeless. All the while his anger boiled, at the Empire for bringing down that moon, for the Adventurers he admired who couldn't stop it, for the Gods who let it happened, at his parents for not surviving when the world continued on as they had said. The anger would rage, the flames dancing from one blame to another, when suddenly he could only be angry with himself and the regret he felt about his last moments with his family.
But he was not alone, there were others, families, friends lost within the brilliant awakening of the Elder Primal. His pain was his own in a wide world, and lamenting it wouldn't solve anything. Slowly he would become himself again, pushing away his heartache to lend a hand wherever he went. It was in these moments he decided to fight, to find a way to ease the pain of those around him, to stop the empire from bringing its war, to protect those he found precious.
For the first time in 5 years he went to his family’s graves, praying for a safe journey, for their strength when he had none and made his way to Ul'Dah to train as a Pugilist and begin his journey to fight for the future instead of for the sadness of his past.