#6.0 spoilers

[rousedwhisperingdawn]

FFXIV Endwalker character tier list

[shipperwolf1]

G'raha "Biggest Imposter Syndrome since Hythlodaeus" Tia over there doing the impossible and literally becoming the beacon of hope looked towards for generations in the First when things get tough is just over there watching us like, "If only I could be so grossly incandescent."

Istg!!!!!!

Also, he's a white mage, a black mage, AND a paladin. Does he need physical weapons to tank with? NO OFC NOT, HE'LL JUST MAGIC SOME INTO EXISTENCE AND THEY WORK JUST AS WELL!

His soul is just as dense as ours due to the exarch merge, making him sorta kinda eight times rejoined? Just like us? He's a "WoL" of his own making. Hydaelyn may not have personally smooched him on the forehead like she did us, but she didn't need to. Raha badassed his way to becoming our equal.

And don't even get me STARTED on Mr. "I'm not entirely useless" Hythlodaeus I WILL SCREAM

[opteekaal]

The Meteia

She is my baby bird and I love making silly drawings of her.

[artctrlcee]

In from the Cold (divergent)

[driselle-tempetielle]

The Reunion Nobody Asked For

[thecrystarium]

[kulvefaggoth]

It's fucking bullshit there's not a single rain of blood during Stormblood. That means Stormblood is the only ffxiv release that lies to you.

Like. Final Fantasy XIV Online. Sure was an online game. Sucked shit so they nuked it. So then comes Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn. The game was rebuilt that realm sure was reborn. Both in the meta and also in the text.

Now Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward. There's like two floating continents we go to the alliance raids were about sky pirates litcherally the expansion that added flight as a mechanic. We sure fucking went Heavensward.

Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers. Your quest is literally shadowbringing. You banish the eternal light and bring back the night. Technically you're the only one really shadowbringing but your friends are helping so they're shadowbringers too.

Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker. Hey remember that quest. Yeah that quest. At the literal end of the expansion. Where you're forced to walk. Not run. Not fly. You HAVE to walk to the end. You get a status called endwalker. The quest you get after that is the final quest. Endwalker. They were not fucking subtle about that.

So i find that it's total BULLSHIT that Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood only has a metaphorical storm of fucking blood. "Ooooh a war is kinda like a storm of blood shed" don't come to me with that crap. You're the people who made the flight expansion be named "expansion where you literally go to the sky". Was it too much trouble have ONE scene with red rain? At least a little river of blood? I thought you guys were professionals but apparently i'm dealing with the fucking syrcus CIRCUS here. Unbelievable...

[starswornoaths]

3. Tempest

Post 6.0, things are changing for the Scions.

They just haven't told all of them yet. So naturally, that becomes an issue.

word count: 1,313

-

“Big things ahead for us, I should think,” Alphinaud chimed happily without looking up from the letter he had brought in to work on. 

“Hmm. Bigger than what we just finished?” Serella asked, her own focus deterred from goldsmithing between his comment and the ache in her ban.

“Oh heavens, I should hope not! Many changes loom on the horizon, but much will feel familiar. It will be nice to go to ground again, so to speak. Not that we should hasten to our next task, of course, but having a plan is preferable.”

There was a peculiar pause there—only a few moments, but long enough that Serella caught the way he flitted his eyes toward her with as little movement as possible. Had she not stopped fiddling with her project, she might have missed it entirely…which she suspected he had been hoping for.

“What do you mean,” she asked slowly, “when you say we will go to ground again?”

That got him to set his pen down, though he kept his eyes on the paper in front of him. 

“We Scions have been talking—”

“—Without me?” she asked with care.

“Oh!” Alphinaud was startled into actually looking at her when he seemed to realize how horrible it sounded when put like that. “No, not with the intent to leave you out of the discussion, of a certainty, but we thought to bring it up when you were perhaps a bit further along in recovery—”

“What are you lot talking about, then? What’s this plan I’ll find out about later?” she pressed, already thin on patience.

Silence stretched for another few heartbeats, drawn out further by Alphinaud’s resumed refusal to look at her.

“I— well, ‘tis hardly a plan just yet, but…given all that we have accomplished, and how far the Alliance has come—”

“The Grand Company of Eorzea.” Serella corrected him.

“Yes, yes, the Grand Company,” Alphinaud hastily corrected, adding, “though even that name change proves how far they have come. Far enough along that I believe it time for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to slip back into the shadows. We aim to announce our disbandment upon your medical clearance—”

“Disbandment?” Serella gawked. 

“Not in truth! Only insofar as the official story will tell!” Alphinaud reassured, at last turning to her fully.

Serella wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the conversation, at the way he looked surprised that she might take umbrage with the notion.

“We are an organization that has always worked in shadow in service to the star—”

“Oh come off it,” she cut him off waspishly, “Minfilia called us the worst kept secret in Eorzea before we had even moved to the Rising Stones. If you think for one second we were ever fully hidden—”

“I am under no such delusion.” Alphinaud huffed. “Even if only in principal, however, we were not outwardly acknowledged.”

“Until Minfilia specifically declared that we would be a public institution. To be open and honest with the people we fight to save. And you would undermine that, Alphinaud?”

“The world has changed, Serella,” he sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “to even begin to speculate on what Minfilia would do after all of this is a disservice to her memory.”

“And the choice to lie to our friends isn’t? To our allies? After fighting alongside them in the name of truth and unity? When we have only barely started pulling back as arbiters for advanced technologies and mediators between peoples post-Calamity? For what purpose, even? So you won’t be pestered by the things they don’t ask of us anymore?” she asked.

“Not—not lying—well, alright, ‘tis a lie, but one that we feel—”

“We?”

“—is necessary. The city-states will continue to grow independent on their own—”

“You know they only asked us for help when they couldn’t do what we did, yes? That such needs were why the Scions were even founded to begin with?” she pressed him. “I don’t even particularly like the governments we’ve worked with, and even I would not be so uncharitable as to consider them demanding.”

“They did ask much of us—” he began.

She was having none of it, however, citing, “Eorzea was losing to Garlemald when I joined the Scions. Do you even remember that? It was a lifetime ago, aye, but they didn’t even ask us at first—do you not recall how close they came to surrendering? Now that they have the means to combat primals without the Echo and a cure for tempering, you cannot even trust them to restrain themselves from asking needless favors?”

“‘Tis not only up to me—” he sidestepped.

“But you suggested it, I’d wager.” She countered.

When the silence re-entered the room, it was incredulous. Stifling. 

“That…is a cruel assumption,” Alphinaud said slowly, eyes averted.

Unfazed, Serella blanched, “Am I wrong?”

Silence chimed in to answer on his behalf: of course he did.

“I think it more than fair for us to step back from—” he tried to pivot.

“So do that. Assign other Scions to Eorzea’s care if you feel you’ve done your part. Disbanding would displace dozens of our colleagues. How many of us have rooms in the Rising Stones with nowhere else to go? For how long was I one of those colleagues?”

“Everyone would remain on the payroll—”

“But disbandment would require us to scatter. To “keep up appearances” and give credence to the lie. Have you factored in where our colleagues will go? How long will we be scattered? What will happen to the Rising Stones and the Waking Sands?”

“We’re barely starting the talks for this now, I know not what we will do to address these things—” he tried to argue.

“Have you told Estinien?” she asked pointedly. “Does he get a vote?”

Silence once more interjected—of course Estinien doesn’t know yet.

Nor was he an Archon.

“Well…” Alphinaud meandered.

“After all the effort the lot of you used to cajole him into joining, finally reassuring him he’s got a steady place to rest his lance outside of Ishgard, this is his thanks not even six moons on?! And what of the others?!”

“As I said, we’re still working it out—”

“So you’re bringing this to the table with no logistics, no plan, and nothing to act as a safety net for those of us that aren’t Archons?” Serella pressed.

“Were our deaths not enough?” Alphinaud asked, tired. “I care for our comrades’ well being. You know I do. But I haven’t the answers yet.”

“Were any of mine?” she countered. “You got to come along for the full ride once, and that was enough, was it?”

“I know not why this is an argument,” he huffed, throwing his hands up in the air as he added, “I still want to work to help Garlemald—your betrothed leads the charge in that—”

“Which makes it all the more insulting you would have me lie to him. You would leave no organization behind the lot of you, nothing to help future generations, no “guiding light” like Loui—”

“I know,” Alphinaud said in a low voice, “what my grandfather wanted. And I know what we want.”

“And who is we, Alphinaud?” Serella asked again in a matching tone.

Silence’s presence made itself known in the room again. It hummed in her ears, it buzzed in his blood. 

“I think…I should go.” Alphinaud murmured, easing himself down from his chair. “Mayhap we can revisit this once you are better. You’re talking like you did years ago when you thought yourself alone.”

“And little wonder. You talk like you did when you thought to form the Braves. You’ve never seemed younger.” Serella quipped, already leaning back into her pillows.

If his flinch was any indication, Alphinaud understood it as the furthest thing from a compliment, yet silence saw him out of her room.

[good-grievance]

[storms-path]

Amaurot, The Dead Ends and Conviction

I’ve been thinking a bit lately about the final dungeons of Shadowbringers and Endwalker, and how they’re ultimately a last, desperate attempt on each expansion’s villain to convince you of the righteousness of their cause.

Amaurot is a story of a world gone mad. A story of the immense and horrifying efforts that its inhabitants went to in order to save it, and (left unsaid) the story of the scars it left on the survivors and their inability to escape them. In revealing all of this to you, Emet-Selch is baring his soul and sole motivation to you, showing you the infinite depths of his sincerity in his desire to bring back his people.

But this is also his final attempt to get through to you, to make you understand just why you should give up and let him win. Surely your feeble attempts at rising above your mediocrity cannot compare to the greatness of the ancients! Surely you now understand just how vital it is that you relinquish your people to help him save his own! It’s a cheap, hollow ploy, a final dagger to level at you as he finally runs out of cards to play. But it won’t stop you.

Meteion, on the other hand, has seen it all before. Time and time again. Hers is not an attempt to sway you into saving anything, quite the opposite. She knows deep in her soul that every civilisation is doomed from the start to crumble into dust or self-destruct. The universe is a graveyard, screaming proof of her argument with a chorus of dead worlds. Why bother fighting at all? Why give your all when you’ll only be met with silence and wasted energy?

But already you’ve seen the cracks in her mask. Your friends and allies gave their very souls to prove otherwise, to convince you to keep walking despite the odds. And the very man who once tried to break your spirit and soul came to your aid and rekindled the hope in your breast and in hers. Her once unshakeable conviction is wavering, and the Dead Ends are her scrambling to put the mask back in its place, to convince herself and you that hers is the only way. End the cycle of suffering once and for all, join her in the song that will end life itself. But that song is not yours to sing.

The parallels are fairly obvious. Two antagonists pushed to the brink, their once invincible conviction suddenly tested and found wanting, making one last effort to make you stop. But neither one understands what pushes the Warrior of Light forward. Neither one can accept the need in your heart to stand tall and walk on. For those you have lost. For those you can yet save.

[leafykat]

garden of etheirysly delights

[itsmeowlee]

Everything.

[shipperwolf1]

Emet-Selch planning the Garlean Empire: ok so high-tech floating fortresses that can contain dragons didn't go over so great

Emet-Selch: let's try cars.

[opteekaal]

Kiss Day with the Elpis Crew

I drew this for Kiss Day last year. I still laugh at the Venat/Azem lmao

[exploringcastleoblivion]

Going through old files

Shoutout to that time I witnessed Emet completely miss the boss with LB and nuke the ground instead

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #6: Halcyon

(A/n: Yeah, first week definitely didn't have any motivation to write ideas, and not helped by me getting very invested in gaming that took up most of my time. x-x But I got this idea and wanted to see it done before the 24 hour deadline for prompts was finally set in place.

Set at the end of EndW 6.0, with the Scions. What does peace and the achievement of their original goal mean. So spoiler warning for the entire post-credits scenes.

Honestly, as a silly aside, I've been so sucked into Fields of Mistria, I'm almost tempted to try a farming sim au for a prompt just to scratch the itch with ffxiv write aha...

Word count: 1804)

Peace was an anomaly. Peace felt like being trapped in between the tense anticipation that it was all a ruse and something was going to happen, and the relief of feeling a weight lifted and silence descend upon a room.

There was nothing left to do, and there was everything left to do, because the world kept spinning, people woke up to a new day, and life continued on. Both the good and the bad of the world.

In the aftermath of their return from Old Sharlayan, the Rising Stones was trapped in that contradictory silence, unsure if they should be relishing it or remain on alert, ready to leap to attention for the next call. Then some chatter started to build here and there over the following days, about what could come next - Tataru had already laid claim to the headquarters for her own business, the twins were talking about connecting with the Ilsabard Contingent to help where they could, G’raha and Krile both made it clear that rebuilding the Students was their main priority, and in amongst it all were various voices all yearning to travel the open road freely. Some like Estinien even voicing a desire to wander alone, already used to solitude like an old friend.

None of it quite said in hushed tones, like it was somehow a betrayal to be talking about other plans. If anything there was already a sense of quiet acceptance amongst the Scions, yet not quite ready to voice it aloud and confirm it.

Not least till Fhara asked the question.

“So what happens now?” The silence within the room was deafening, no-one knowing how to respond.

As it stretched on, to the point that someone would surely burst, it was only fitting then that Alphinaud was the one to respond, looking like he’d been thinking carefully about his response.

“The Scions were created to safeguard Eorzea from forces that would threaten its peoples. Those forces were primarily that of the Garlean Empire and the primals, both of which were but puppets at the hands of the Ascians. As it is now, all of these threats have been eliminated. While certainly, we could continue on in advisory roles to maintain the peace that has been brought to Eorzea, in truth…there’s no more reason for the Scions to continue. Our duty is done.” Despite his even tone, relaying what everyone else in the room knew to be true, there was a crease in his brow that said that even he wasn’t sure of the outcome. It couldn’t be denied, and perhaps it was even for the best, but the uncertainty lingered all the same.

Thancred wasn’t quite as torn, instead agreeing easily with a steady nod. “Aye, it wouldn’t do to have the city states over reliant on us to help with their every problem. Though even they seem to realise it since we haven’t received any further reports or requests since the Finals Days were halted.”

“So we just go our separate ways then and call it done? Just like that?” The crowd parted to look at Aenor after her plea. A small cluster of hushed mumbling started to ripple through the crowd, uncertain looks cast between each other.

“Mayhap we’re lingering on the dismay one would feel at bringing a venture to a close. The fact that we have succeeded in our primary goal should be a source of great satisfaction, though I well understand that there is sadness in parting,” Y’shtola spoke up in reply, arms crossed but a satisfied smile curling upon her lips, “But instead, I would re-evaluate what a separation of our order would mean for us - we have forged lasting connections with all present, connections we know we can trust should we need assistance in the future. And even should a problem arise that is large enough to require our full order once again, I have no doubt that we all would answer the call to face it.”

The thrum of voices changed their tune to that of agreement, though wariness was still set upon most expressions.

“No-one here is doubting that, nor the need to disband a group that’s done its job,” Riol added, silencing the hush somewhat, “I think we’re all just feeling a tad worried about just cutting off after how long we’ve all been cosied up together. Aye we’ll all move on after some time, but y’know…” Another rush of agreed whispers followed his statement.

“Perhaps a more agreeable middle ground would be needed,” Alisaie suggested, already seeing that her brother was once again in deep thought as the din picked up again. He cast a look at her, a look of understanding crossing his expression.

“It is just a matter of semantics, but the specifics of it all needn’t really matter, would it,” he mumbled, clearly in answer to his own thought. Fhara and Alisaie, in immediate earshot to even hear him, shared curious looks, heads tilting and Fhara’s ear flicking.

“It would be as simple as making the order’s disbandment official for the public and city states, that they need no longer turn to us for aid as we no longer exist. But official designations needn’t really change how we perceive each other,” he said, speaking up to be heard. 

“Perhaps it is just about the words and titles, and maybe it still won’t change the concern you all feel, especially given there is little difference between official and unofficial with a separation. To no longer be bound to a group does bring its own advantages, such as the freedom to venture forth to new horizons and to take on new jobs and skills. Even if we leave here no longer able to call ourselves Scions, does it really change what we are to each other? We are all comrades in arms for all the trials we’ve spent together, Scion or no.”

The initial lack of response made Alphinaud nervous, his somewhat hopeful mien drooping as silence greeted him.

“Sounds right mushy to me, but I wouldn’t expect any less from this lot,” one voice finally hollered from the small cluster, a hearty laugh taking off any sting from the words after and spreading through the group.

“I’ve always been rather proud to call myself a Scion,” Clemence piped up from next to her sister, “Working with everyone here, and being able to say I was part of something extraordinary for the sake of Eorzea. But maybe you’re right that it is a change of thinking that would help, and it may take some time to adjust, but I’m no less a Scion just because I can’t call myself one after this.”

For the first time that evening, the rustle of the crowd sounded more optimistic. The chatter once again moving onto the future and what everyone should move onto, but now without the lingering tension that there was an elephant left unaddressed in the room.

“It really is as simple as that then,” Fhara said, ears still lying low on her head, “Simply Scions at heart?” She shuffled on the spot, making the twins cast another look between them.

“It will be difficult to adjust for many,” Y’shtola said, joining their cluster. She cast her eyes over the hall, seeing how everyone broke off into smaller groups for their chatter, before falling upon Fhara, “Though I would understand if you were just as attached to our order as anyone, for how integral you have been all this time.”

Fhara’s lips quirked into a sheepish grin, confessing, “I’ll miss having somewhere to call home, knowing everyone was always here.” Her earnest statement struck those in earshot, even as the cheerful din continued around them.

“We all will. But some things reach their end, and as has been repeated ad nauseum, we will all keep in touch. I’d be willing to keep everyone updated on matters in Garlemald as often as I can, and I would trust you all to come at the first ring if we had need of assistance,” Alphinaud said, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

“Well, even with all this talk of calling for aid when needed, I’ll be the first to say I shall not be calling on you,” Alisaie stated firmly, hands on her hips and expression stern as she faced Fhara. Fhara’s ears perked up, taken aback by the statement.

“You have done enough as it is, nearly dying several times over for Eorzea and this star. Just because you feel compelled to help at the first request doesn’t mean I’ll be taking advantage of you. We’ll be handling matters on our own, won’t we brother?” He didn’t even get to respond as she continued, though he still smiled fondly at his sister’s insistence and the feelings he knew lay behind her words.

“You are going to enjoy this time of peace we earned. Even if you don’t sit still for it, even if you’re off traversing the land once more, this is your time now. And I can think of one positive for you specifically that would come from the Scions disbandment.”

Fhara’s ear flicked again in curiosity.

“The Warrior of Light has become so intertwined with the Scions, I can see people assuming you would hang up the mantle alongside us. I would hope that maybe you can finally enjoy life without the weight of your reputation, even if you’re still compelled to help everyone,” Alisaie said, expression finally softening into a smile.

“No more the expectation of the title, and more the person’s character,” Y’shtola summarised, “A fine idea, and one we can all look forward to as we cast aside our roles as Scions. Your reputation may linger for the longest out of us all, but eventually even you would fade to a simple adventurer that comes to the aid of others.”

The more the idea stirred in her mind, the more a smile grew upon Fhara’s face, till she nodded.

“I do like the thought of that. I’ve made enough stories to pass onto others, but it’ll be nice to be just another figure in the crowd.”

The talk continued late into the night before people finally separated into their dorms, letters penned by candlelight in the Solar ready to be shipped off by Postmoogle the next day to the city states. And all would begin the countdown to their Final Days within those walls.

Peace meant dinners marked with storytelling of their finest adventures and successes. Peace meant packing boxes and replacing them anew with Tataru’s work to fill the space, even as she saw her friends prepare to leave their home while she still stayed. Peace meant friends parting ways, separating for different horizons yet ever knowing they would rise to the occasion should the call come for them.