A strange young woman
Enslaved by the Empire
Weaver of magic
With a road-worn face
He searches all the world for
Relics of the past
King of Figaro
He treats with the Empire
A man of machines
Brother to Edgar
He gave up king and country
To seek his freedom
Allegiance to one
A head for a hundred gil
Like a passing breeze
On the surface, calm
Given magic through science
Within, nothingness
Soldier of Doma
Faithful to king and country
Strength of one hundred
Clothed in skins of beasts
Eyes that glimmer with wisdom
The boy who survived
He lives by the cards
Sailing the skies above
A gambling spirit
Friend to all creatures
His feet are light as feathers
The Moogle who speaks
Frail to the eye
With strength and pure intention
Learned in beasts' ways
Picture life itself
Living, breathing earth and air
Alive with color
It could be a man
Perhaps a woman, maybe
Perhaps something else
Lover of carved bone
Covered with muscle and fur
Yeti of the caves
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There you go. I contributed something
