#Coils of Bahamut

[keykidpilipili]

Believe in kindness, believe in other ff14 players carrying sprouts through unsync coils and waiting during cutscenes <3

[stormbabylore]

Low quality screenshot, high quality me being in awe of my own character.

Panned around on a whim while doing Coils - Turn 5 unsynced. I may need to repeat this as bard (her main). For reasons.

(✧_✧)

[ashenthorns]

How I spent Final Coil 4

[klopford]

I finally went back and finished Coils :D

I love these kids so much!

[unbreakable-oaths]

Glaring at Grandpa

[corgibardballads]

If I may make a... small... complaint.

I'm a bit... no I'm actually very disappointed that in the the deluge of massive reworks to older content and adding duty support and changing certain fights that the dev team didn't do anything with the Coils of Bahamut. Unlike any other raid, Coils is directly mentioned in the story as a current threat. I remember when I first played post-ARR I was so confused when I got back to the Waking Sands and the MSQ just meanders away off in a different direction. I had to ask a mentor in novice network about it because I was so confused. With the exception of arguably the Omega raids, no other raid is strongly story relevant like Coils. It explains so much about Louisoix and Bahamut and gives you a reason to start caring about Alisaie who is all but absent from the main story it 100% should have been given some attention. I personally feel it was very important for me to understand the big event I missed that was the calamity and I very much regret not getting to see it until I was well into ShB and could solo it. To be honest, let's be real here, much of Coils is filler and can easily be cut out. It could be made into a dungeon or long solo duty. If they were able to make such drastic changes to Praetorium and Castrum and Westwind and the Lahabrea fight, they absolutely could do it for Coils and add it to the duty support.

[ver-caster]

Finally doing the Coils of Bahamut quests. It only took until *checks notes* two months after finishing Endwalker LMAO

Switch back to an old Summoner glam partway through for some fun nostalgia.

[icewitcher]

That moment where you have in PF (Party Finder) a veteran lv 90 encouraging newbies/sprouts to do the 13 Coils of Bahamut unshynced to let the 7 others players enjoying the story while he takes care of OS the mobs and bosses, joins them, only for your parental figure to tell you in the middle of unlocking CoB 6 she need your help for something and you see there's only 30 to 45 min before it's time to eat:

[sainsa-in-eorzea]

[snail-fever]

just did coils (very late ik) and i have so many feelings about it in general - but especially about urianger's worries regarding alisaie's mental health and grief. he's such a sweet friend and i like to think she confided in him in private when she didn't have to worry about impressing the wol.

[dragons-bones]

Yoshi-P, sir

what the fuck is Solar Bahamut

where did it come from

when did it come from

why I am junctioning it to Synnove's soul and her carbuncles

why the fuck does its big blasting attack leave behind Hydaelyn's crystal of light arcane circle

I need one fucking job quest explaining this shit Yoshi-P!!!!

Some of the yelling from SPACE chat today while we watched the PLL:

ONE

FUCKING

SUMMONER JOB QUEST

PRETTY PLEASE.

[abyssalmermaiden]

the most annoying people you know

[asleepinawell]

Nael van Darnus - The White Raven

Tsuki ni kawatte, oshioki yo!

[hopskipandarump]

who ordered screenshots of post-clear ucob arena? nobody? great here they are enjoy

[theblackestnight-ffxiv]

[ffxivwrite2024] prompt 17: sally

“Sire!”

They awoke to screaming.

They were screaming.

Terror gripped them, a desperate surety of impending disaster, of a falling blade, of a falling star-

No-!

They curled upon themself and tried to banish it all away, tried to force themself back into the deep torpor that had held them for ages uncounted. The screams echoed in their mind, the screams of their kin, the terrible songs of compelled devotion that ended mid-voice but reverberated in the space and time between them.

Sire..!

Every mote of their being needed to keen their despair, to wail a dirge for the lost, but they had to stay silent, had to stay hidden, had to stay outside their captor’s reach. 

Something terrible had happened to the prison of torment. Something terrible had happened to the possessed spirit of their sire, and their kin, held in torment to manifest him eternally.

It had ceased, but what had brought an end to their imprisonment was something more terrible still.

They willed themself back into the nothingness.

***

“Sire?”

They woke again. The memory of their kindred’s cries was waiting for them, and they had to fight the urge once more to cry out their dirge. Time had interwoven itself between them and the moment of their kindred’s passings, only enough for them to know that some small amount of it had passed.

The echoes were fading. No, not only that–they were being sung over in farewells. An ending, a passing, but softer…

Their sire’s possessed spirit among them.

Alarm, and caution, held them in stillness. They had hidden themself away for ages, they could stay hidden long enough to try to discern what it was that had happened–and if it was safe for them to emerge.

Time passed, rather meaninglessly. They had only the low rumbles of the tireless earth, the silt of falling marine snow, the shift in the currents of the sea and the aether currents beside them, to tell that it had passed at all. Slowly, they unfurled their wings, lifted their head toward what would be the surface, so far from them that no light of day reached their haven.

It was safe here. It had been safe for what felt like eras. They had felt the pangs of the star, but they had been too deep in slumber to be drawn out. Not until the terrible song of their sire–of what had taken the place of their sire. Whatever had happened, it had reached them, but it had not compelled them against their will. Their urge to keen in sorrow–that had not been due to some ensorcelled geas. That had been the natural response to feeling the deaths of their kindred.

Deaths! The memory of too many deaths, of too many final songs, swept over them, and the urge to keen rose once more. They fought it back. They did not yet know that it was safe.

They could wait, but would they wait another age?

No. They had to know.

With a sudden decisiveness that would have shocked their broodmates, they lashed their tail and spread their wings wide, driving themself toward the surface of the sea. They ascended from the hadal zone that had held them safely unnoticed since escaping the geas that had enslaved their kin.

They ascended, and it took time. A passage of time of a meaningful amount, not mere moments, but shorter than the time since the songs had ended. Hours, they thought, and it seemed right. Days seemed like too long a span for rising from the ocean’s depths, even the trench that they had occupied. Hours seemed right.

So it was that some hours after their decision, they emerged into the brilliance of night. Brilliance compared to the unstirring dark of their sanctuary, where the only light was the pale lanterns of deep-sea creatures. In comparison, the stars strewn across the night sky were glittering beacons, and the greater moon near-blinding in even a crescent.

There was no lesser moon.

They looked for it–it would not have strayed from the greater moon. It had been tied to it by chains of force, and if even the sliver of the greater moon rested in the sky, the lesser moon must also be there. Yet it wasn’t.

Their eyes drank in the swirling aether, remnants of a disturbance so great that they could hardly begin to untangle it, yet one thing was certain: the lesser moon had fallen. Their sire’s prison had broken. Of their sire, there were only echoes.

Ehd kin…

No. Their sire had been stolen from them before that. Before the prison… The prison had contained the mockery of their sire, the twisted remnant that the Ashan had goaded their sire’s mate into calling forth. Whatever had happened to that thing, that eikon, it had been only his possessed spirit.

Yet the grief was still there…

They drew a deep breath of the air, so strange to feel after so long beneath the waters. Something had happened to the lesser moon, and to the star beneath it. Something had claimed the lives of their ensorcelled kin, freeing them from the dread compulsion to maintain the existence of the eikon that wore their sire’s soul. There were great changes wrought to the star since last they had been free upon it.

Foun Myhk would find out what those changes were.

[viiioca]

day 11: machine

From the journal of Estelle de Laussienne, 1st of the 6th Astral Moon, 1 7A.E. Bahamut's Coils are breathtaking in their cruelty, really – and I am no stranger to it. I've seen the human traffickers of Vylbrand. I have seen the state-sanctioned violence against Duskwight and Miqo'te tribes under the boughs of the Twelveswood. I have seen the refugee camps of Thanalan, where Ala Mhigans fled their conquerors only to be exploited for labor and bloodsport in the land that was meant to be their refuge. I have seen the Witchdrop of Coerthas, where innocents are judged and executed without trial for imaginary crimes.  And yet it all seems like playground games compared to this. What level of ethical and moral perversion does it take to imagine a torture device as an infinite source of energy? I quite literally can't fathom it. And oh, the complicity -- the hundreds, if not thousands of laborers required to engineer and build it. I wonder how many hands the blueprints passed through that understood, deeply, the evil they were doing and proceeded regardless. I wonder how many did not believe it evil at all. To think the Garleans have the gall to use the Allagans as a boilerplate for their own empire and yet call us the savages.

[roevember 2023 prompt by wintertitania]