#FFXIV story

[capriccio-ffxiv]

Re-doing the Heavensward Alchemist quests, and it turns out that the canonical color of the WoL's Aether is blue. Obviously everyone can make their own headcanons and whatever, but I find it interesting that they're straight up like "nope you're blue." Also, this does mean that the color of a Convocation crystal =/= the color of a soul.

[therealdesastrffxiv]

Gloomy Angels: Nimie's Story

Pictured above: Nimie (left) & Morana (right)

=====

Context: Mysterious Garleans rescuing captured 'monsters' from an evil scientist's laboratory. Story below.

Nimie’s Story

Everything hurt. 

Her gums especially, though the recent lacerations on her flesh from that damned scalpel did a number too.

Nimie wanted to die. 

But Rook wouldn’t let her. 

Every time the vampire exhaled, a whimper-like noise left her lungs. Her eyes were partially closed. She was glad she regrew her eyelids so she could close them now. That had been a ‘fun’ little experiment by Rook. A crash sounded nearby, and she really wasn’t comprehending what was happening now. She could scent the blood rushing through the veins of someone coming closer. 

When she looked up, she saw not one, but several people. All with glowing eyes, staring her down. Nimie peeled back her lips and let out a long, drawn out hiss, pressing against the back of her cell. Drool poured down her chin. Such a far cry from the skilled pirate she was outside of this place, and even further back, a complete contrast to her status of nobility she walked away from. 

A monster in rags, to rot and die here. What did she see in those eyes? An eerie feminine voice rang out “Listen up. I do not like you. I am not your friend, I do not want anything to do with you monsters. But no one deserves this.” She had no idea what was going on, but the cell was blasted open. 

Why couldn’t she scent the people with her?! She had no idea what was going on. They had no heartbeat, no scent aside from the strong blast of ceruleum. Except for the woman standing before her, kneeling there. Nimie snarled and lunged out of nowhere, but her jaws locked onto the mysterious, scentless people. She began to drink, but it tasted like raw aether, and she began to calm down. 

“Get her to one of the corpses left behind,” the commanding feminine voice growled. 

With that one bite, Nimie lost all strength. Frenzy was over, and though she was now in control,  there was no second wind. She slumped, falling to the floor with a whimper. She managed to snarl out a garble of words that were incoherent. She was trying to tell them to leave her alone. 

They didn’t. 

Warm, fresh blood flowed down her throat, revitalizing her. Her eyes closed as she drank, and slowly, she found herself fading away… 

No… no! Please, I need to stay awake, I need to get away… 

As everything faded to black, Nimie realized she was being taken somewhere. 

—----------------

Groaning, Nimie began to come to, feeling dizzy and a touch sick. She held her stomach, trying not to spew everywhere. The first thing she noticed was that she was on a bunch of cushions and covered in blankets. She was also in new clothing made from a material she didn’t know. There was a light sting to her wounds, but also a warmth, like salve had been applied. 

The hum of machines hit her ears, causing them to pull back somewhat. She leaned against a cold, stone concrete wall to realize she was surrounded by rusty fencing. Where was she? Some sort of factory? Was she going to be torn to pieces and processed?! 

Nimie whimpered, covering her eyes and starting to sob. She didn’t touch the blankets even though she was shivering profusely. Was this another part of Rook’s sick plan? She was a wreck, and this carried on for hours until she laid there on the cushions, shuddering and clenching her jaw. She opened her eyes and sat up, looking around again to discover someone staring at her. 

With no scent.

She let out a bloodcurdling scream at the sight of eerie, glowing pale eyes on her. Her heart began to thud, and her stomach clenched. She was under enough stress that the edges of her vision began to darken, and she fell onto the pillow, shuddering. Very shortly following that, she blacked out for another few hours. 

Waking up again, she was here in the factory, not on the table, and a blood bag was by her head. She hissed, refusing to drink it. The blood Rook gave burned. But eventually, she gave in, knowing she would starve otherwise. Her body betrayed her there - she drank the blood bag, but it was actually pleasant. Fresh, rich blood… no added chemicals. No burning as it went down. 

When she looked up again she met those eyes. She began to shudder again, this time actually pulling the blankets closer, leaning against the wall. Finding her voice, she snarled, “Oi, who are you? Am I to die here?” No response. The person staring her down was in shiny black material, and… oh hells, they had a third eye. This was a Garlean, again with no vital signs. 

Nimie thought this through for a moment. She’d encountered things like this before… What was it? Ashkin, right. From afar. They had no vitals either, they were zombies. With that eerie eye glow and complete lack of sound or scent from them, aside from cereleum, that was her best guess. But…Garleans. She’d read about the horrors they committed, yet never experienced them herself. 

She didn’t trust this one bit. 

No answers, either. She continued to cry into her hands until she had no more tears to cry. 

—--

A day later, Nimie was approached by a man with one eye, the other covered by an eyepatch. He was terrifying, a muscular Garlean with a stare even more frightening than the zombies. He was doing that to her right now. He said in a low, gravelly voice with somewhat of an echo to it, “I am going to bring you to the bathroom. You can take care of yourself there.” He narrowed his eye. There were no words of reassurance here. 

Nimie responded to this by hissing at him and pressing further against the wall. Her crimson stare was locked on the zombie as he got closer. “One step closer and I’ll tear right through your BLOODY DAMN ARM, ya understand?! I know you’re a DAMN Ashkin, I know you’re a DAMN Garlean, ya better fuckin’ let me out of here or so help me I’ll show you why I’m called ‘Nimie Vicebite’ ya fuck.” 

Well, she was very vocal, and probably cussed Rook out the entire time too. Sure, she started off as a noblewoman. But she’d been a pirate for over five years. The zombie actually let out a sigh, his eye managing to harden. He continued, until suddenly, he lunged, grabbing her arm and causing her to shriek. Now, she was being dragged somewhere while headlocked. 

She began to chew on the zombie’s arm, but wasn’t in frenzy, so her jaw strength simply wasn’t out of control, and so, she couldn’t chew through his shirt. Very much annoyed by this, slighted, even, Nimie hissed in frustration. “Bugger, what the hells is this made of, huh? Draggin’ me off to my death who knows where and I can’t even bite through your damn shirt?! How is that fair, eh? Come on, let me go. I’m not tasty. Too much muscle, too gamey, I chew on sailors so am probably way too salty.”

Now, they were going up some stairs. Nimie did not have enough strength to counter the zombie, and she panted, too tired to continue her struggle. So, she continued to hiss, snarl, growl, and cuss at him. “Bastard. Kickin’ someone already down, eh? Not even tellin’ me how I’m gonna die? That scientist sure did, she described every fuckin’ thing she was gonna do to me. Damn it, let me GO ya fucker!” 

Up more stairs. 

Nimie shrieked as she met the eyes of more Ashkin she had no idea were there. What was this place?! She whimpered, remaining silent until they got to… a bathroom. Like the intimidating fellow said. She was placed on the ground. Then, the zombie stepped back, keeping his stare on her. 

Immediately, Nimie hissed at him again. “This some sick joke, eh? Cleanin’ up your food before taking a nice, big, bite? What, gonna tear me to pieces? Just do it then, enough of these damn games!” 

The zombie loomed over her as she crouched there on the ground, growling at him. She had no ability to do anything against him, either. She flinched back, swallowing. That deep, gravelly voice was soft now, but very threatening. “Take care of yourself in there. Or.” A scowl spread across his face. “You will learn how it feels to be devoured by Ashkin. Do I make myself clear?”

Nimie hissed at him, swiping toward him with her claws. 

The zombie continued. “Towels. Blankets. Spare clothing with the towels. All of what you need. Behave.”

Nimie snapped her jaws at him, her heart pounding, but eventually crept into the shower and tucked herself into the corner. She began to softly cry again, shuddering, her bravado draining from her now that she was out of sight from the zombie.

Eventually, she needed to listen, or she’d become Ashkin chow. (She had no idea the threat wasn’t serious, the zombies did not in fact have vampire on the menu.) When her shower concluded, she stayed in there, closing her eyes. 

His voice rang out again. “I am taking you back to your place of rest should you be finished.” 

“If I stay in here in the nude, will ya fuckin’ leave me alone?!” Nimie snapped, though the idea of doing that really wasn’t something that she wanted to do. She closed her eyes, clenching her jaw. 

In a matter-of-fact tone, the zombie replied from behind the curtain, “I can throw a large blanket over you and direct you back to the spot.” 

“Oh, oh, ‘direct’, yes of course! Ya mean drag my ass down several stairs and toss me into a practical cell, right, right, ‘direct’, ya fucker,” Nimie snapped. She sighed and grabbed the spare clothes, then put them on. “Fine, I’m dressed in my church best, all ready for whatever twisted plan ya got for me. Bastard.” 

She slunk out from behind the curtain to face the zombie, who did not look amused. He glared her down and approached, causing her to shrink down, her lip quivering. Her stomach twisted, and she covered her face, her panic overcoming her again. Suddenly, she was in his arms, again. This time carried, not dragged. She didn’t remove her hands from her face until she was placed down again.

Here…on the cushions. 

There were now some books here, too. A bunch of manual and science books. How exciting. 

She sighed, more confused than ever, and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. She grabbed several blankets and pulled them over her, her back now facing the entrance of this place, where the zombies guarded. With that, she let herself doze off, still completely drained of energy and not doing great. 

—--

It went like that for three days. 

On the fourth, she began to suspect there was something off. In other words, the zombies had not opted to eat her, she hadn’t been dragged to a table, and she was actually recovering. A very terrifying medicus zombie had visited and asked her in a dangerous, flat, tone, how she’d been feeling. 

“Like a bag of shite, that’s how I’m feelin’, bastards. Tell me what’s going on! Please? Just get it over with quickly if you’re going to do something,” she had said. She snapped her fangs and swiped at any zombie that tried getting too close, making the medicus’s life miserable. The medicus, of course, did not explain what they were doing. So, she figured they were malicious. 

Either way, she was once again fine. These zombies manhandled her when she tried escaping, but she paid a lot of attention - they never actually hurt her. What was their deal?! Were they trying to help her? Why were they acting like this?

Nimie sighed. 

As she gained strength, escape attempts became more frequent. The vampire grew more crafty and could trick the zombies and get a little far before being intercepted. She calculated the patrol routes and tricked them into thinking, at times, she was asleep when really, she wasn’t.

This was one of those times she got pretty far. Up the stairs, juking the zombies, she chuckled to herself at the mess she was making. She knew by now they would not hurt her. At this point, she misbehaved so much to see if she could trigger their aggression (aside from actually attacking them, unless trying to chew on their arm when dragging her back counted) and see if she could end this all faster. 

Nope.

She was almost positive they were trying to frighten her on purpose. To be honest, it worked really well, but it didn’t stop her from trying to get some answers. 

She could hear her heartbeat. The necromancer. Intensifying as she rounded the corner and stared at the lookout, which reminded her of what archers utilized. With a low, dangerous growl, she met the pale gaze of the woman. “What is going on here, eh? What are you bastards doing, why are you keeping me here? Are you helping me? Say it! Say something! You all can talk, I know it! Tell me–AUGH!” 

A strong arm linked around her chest, pulling her against one of the zombies. The one-eyed one. Great, he was the scariest. What did Nimie do?! CHOMP. She began to try and chew on his arm, growling and thrashing like mad. Hearing him sigh in her ear, she pulled hers back.

And down she went. Back to where she’d be guarded by the damn zombies, fed, and met with silence. At least there were some holes in the scary zombie’s arm sleeve now, but that had taken a lot of escape and a lot of chewing. He’d probably repair it, but – “You know. With a sewing needle, I could fix that for you. Eh? Eh? Only payment is to tell me what’s going on!” 

She was placed on the cushions. She glared at the zombie as he stepped back. Right now, there was a blank, inquisitive look on his face, but that hardened into a scary one as he clenched his jaw and stepped forward. Nimie shrank back, grabbing the blankets and pulling them over herself, whimpering. “I get it, I get it,” she whispered.

—--

Time to leave, though Nimie had no idea. She was now given chemicals in her blood that made her sleepy, nearly knocking her out. She watched through narrowed eyes as she was carried outside into the cold. Trying to stay awake. What was happening?! They went onto a…large skeletal dragon, causing her heart to pound. 

Was this it?

She didn’t know how much time passed, but there, in the distance, was an aetheryte. She was placed on the ground some distance away. She felt eyes on her as she came to, and managed to stand and limp, walking toward the aetheryte. They were going to play with her. 

Intercept her.

Or…something. But freedom was so close… she just needed to get away… to get to where others would be, to help her… 

She looked over her shoulder. Those pale eyes remained on her, staring her down. Panic set in, and she began to run unsteadily until almost slamming into one of the guards working in the contingent. “Help,” she whimpered. “...Help.”

She…got the help. She got out of there. She survived. Somehow, from some miracle, she survived. The Adders called upon Falls, who brought her to the City of Monsters, where she made a full recovery, at least in body. 

What happened during that week-long span? Who were those Garlean zombies? She didn’t know…

Nimie's experience: End!

[quietlycreative]

FFXIV: ARCHER STORY SUMMARY

“Trust in your eyes. They will never lead you astray.” 

Our Story as an archer begins when we speak to the receptionist Athelyna in the city of Gridania. Whether we are new or experienced Adventurers, it is her job to educate us on the teachings of the Guild to ensure that prospective members are ready for the tasks ahead. 

It is here we get our first glimpse into the life and teachings of those in the Archers Guild. Archery taught in Gridania, Athelyna tells us, was born from two distinct styles of bowmanship. The first being from that of the longbow Elezen who ruled the lowlands and the second the Miqo’te who were skilled nomadic hunters that favored the shortbow. Though the two people were rivals, they gradually learned to live together and refine the teachings that are practiced in the archers Guild to this day.

The words of Athelyna not only give us an idea of the theme but also foreshadow the overall story that awaits us in the hall when we are instructed to head inside and talk to Luciane. The Guild’s Master. 

Our first meeting with Luciane has the Guildmaster giving us a further taste of what it is to be an archer. While the bow may not be as destructive as other weapons, it makes up for it by offering flexibility and many strategic applications. Since the archer’s role in battle is to exploit the enemy’s weakness, archers must be masters of placement and timing so that a single arrow may turn the tides of battle. This ability requires an archer to be able to SEE these things. 

“Any half-wit can bend the bow, but it is no simple undertaking to become a skilled archer,” Luciane tells us. 

In order to gauge our aptitude for archery, Luciane sends you out on a mission to slay some pests beyond the city limits and asks us to return when it is complete. Having been sent out to better ourselves as archers and being welcomed into the guild, we return to Luciane to continue our journey. It is now that our Guildmaster feels it is time to instruct us on our Sight. Something critical for all those who wish to master the bow.

“To See clearly is not merely to look. It is to observe with intent. Fail to do this, and no amount of talent with a bow will avail you,” She instructs us. 

It is now that our true training begins and the introduction of our two mentors within the guild takes place. After having been sent out on a handful of tasks including finding targets around Gridania and slaying some more beasties, we return to Luciane. The Guildmaster asked the opinions of other members of the Guild, a miqo’te named Leih and an Elezen named Silvairre. 

Just like in the story that Athelyna told us in the start of the journey, our Miqo’te and Elezen mentors do not get along. In fact, Silvairre doesn’t seem to get along with anyone as he automatically dismisses not just us but also Leih as being a taint on the Guild’s name. Silvairre, they explain, was once of the Gods’ Quiver, an elite group of archers in Gridania. While he is no longer part of the Quiver, he tends to be rather opinionated when it comes to archery. 

Luciane says that she knows some people are brash about their dislike of outsiders, as Silvairre is. However, she bids that we keep in mind that everyone may look at the same object and still see different things. There is no right or wrong to it, it is only a matter of that person's perspective. Luciane wishes to help teach us to look from another perspective as well. To do this she sends us to Leih and Silvairre for instructions. 

First we are sent to Leih, who sends us to destroy more targets like Luciane had done before. The difference this time being that we would be going outside the boundaries of Gridania to do so. While searching for these targets, Leih tells us that our task would be to keep an eye on our surroundings and to avoid unnecessary conflict. 

Having completed this, Leih sends us out to help with an issue in the East Shroud. Because of the lack of manpower within Gridania since the Calamity, the archer’s guild often is tasked to help out with things that the Gods’ Quiver and Wood Wailers cannot spare the people to handle. This time it is to cull the increasing numbers of tree slugs and vultures in the Honey Yard. To accomplish this task we would need to observe our foes and take them down while still keeping up our situational awareness that Leih taught us in her first task. 

Returning from our task in the Honey Yard, Leih speaks to us about the importance of the skills that she has taught us as they have to do with hunting. Something that her people were known for. Then sends us to Luciane after apologizing over falling into some sentimentalism over the thought. While we speak with Luciane, Silvairre appears and becomes angry over the fact that Leih had tasked us with the safety of the people of Gridania. Calling her irresponsible and an embarrassment to the guild before Luciane declares that Silvairre would be our next teacher. He makes sure to state that he would not be so easily impressed. 

This is not an understatement, as Silvairre starts off his lesson by saying he isn’t so convinced of our potential as the others are. It was impossible for outsiders to understand the art of archery that the Elezen had been crafting for hundreds of years. He claims that it is out of respect for Luciane that he agreed to teach us and sends up out to take down targets similar to that of Leih’s task. However, he assures us that this task would be much harder. We must observe our enemies, predict where they will be, and complete the task. 

While we accomplish the task he sets for us, Silvairre still refuses to be impressed by our deeds and gives us his second task. In the North Shroud the Ixali scouts have been sighted near a river. An aggression that is part of a very old conflict. Amongst them is a leader by the name of Nezul Cattlan, the Violator. He tasks us with slipping through the defenses of the Ixali party to slay Nezul. Upon engaging in battle with Nezul and his party of Ixali, we are helped by a man named Miraudont the Madder. Someone who has zero relevance to the rest of the archer story but we’re glad he helped anyways. 

We are able to take down Nezul, the Violator. Upon returning to the Guild Silvairre expresses his surprise about us completing the task. While declaring our task was only completed by mere luck it is important to notice that Silvairre rubs his mouth. A movement, Luciane later tells us, is Silvairre's way of covering his lies when we discuss his task with her and Leih. 

Leih, though mad about the audacity Silvairre had for sending us on a task so dangerous, agrees that Silvairre does see our potential and would not have sent us on such a fool's errand had he not. 

With both mentors present, we return to Luciane later to find that she has a task for us. A petition had arrived from Buscarron with news of poachers in the South Shroud. Just like the case before, there is a good reason why the Wood Wailers and Gods’ Quiver cannot be called in for this task. Luciane asks that we go with Leih and Silvairre head to the Druthers to speak with Buscarron about the matter. 

Despite the bickering amongst Silvairre and Leih, the three of you head down to the North Shroud to investigate the matter. Upon arrival, Buscarron informs us of poachers that have been plaguing the area. Something Silvairre says is regrettable, but normal. The Tavern owner says that perhaps if they were normal poachers it would be different but these were Pawah Mujuuk’s gang. A notorious group that has always remained one step ahead of the authorities. Buscarron would have called upon the Gods Quiver or Wailers if it weren’t for an agreement he had with the bandits in the area that kept them from causing trouble for the Druthers. This was why he needed some archers to have a look around without raising too much attention. 

Silvairre decides it is best to split up and search for any signs of poachers. On our search we find common traps and a mead bottle that leads us to Buscarron’s old look out where the famous ale-man used to brew his stock when he was still a sentry. When searching the lookout the three of you do have a run in with the bandits of Pawah Mujuuk’s crew. During the skirmish, Pawah makes a run for it and Leih follows. Staying with Silvairre, we tend to the rest of the litter. When the job is done we hurry to find Leih, Silvairre intervening in the battle between the two before it goes worse Leih. Pawah flees into the forest upon our arrival so together we return to report to both Buscarron and Luciane. 

Our return to the archery’s guild does not prove to be without trouble though. Soon after Luciane approaches us with worries about our two mentors. She bids wer go and have a chat with them to see for ourself. Both mentors sit on the fence of leaving the guild. Silvairre we learn has set his mind to leave the guild and search for Pawah himself. He is not pleased that the Gods’ Quiver and Wood Wailers are doing nothing against the infamous poacher, especially given his history with her. When Silvairre was young and still a Gods’ Quiver, he had captured Pawah Mujuuk. However, when he was naive and fell for her pleading. Releasing her, Silvairre allowed her to escape and lost his place in the Gods’ Quiver because of it. He was set to right this wrong.

Meanwhile, Leih hesitates about her past. She remembers her past and questions her place in the archer’s guild. The skirmish she lost against Pawah seems to have shaken her considerably as she asks Quietly if perhaps it was a sign. That she didn’t belong in the Guild, that she was merely an outsider. She asks us to meet her outside the city in the shroud to say goodbye. However, when we turn up to the spot that she said we are surrounded by Pawah and her gang. 

Despite Leih saying that she had only just asked us to come to say goodbye, Pawah asks for an arrow to be put in us. Pawah only backs down as a favor to Leih, though she says that the next time she would gut us both. Lost and confused, Leih says she needs our help with something. We meet her again at another place in the shroud. This time Leih asks for a fight against us and after the battle says she realizes where she had gone wrong in her thinking. 

It was now our time to go after Silvairre, who had gone in search of Pawah. Together with Leih we find him in the South Shroud where they fight together to protect Silvairre. After they are safe Silvairre, while saying he didn’t want our help, eventually agrees to allow us to help him in setting a trap for Pawah. He had obtained a bandit whistle from the group he had fought and planned to use that to lay his trap. 

Asking for our help, we become the bait for the poacher as we relocate to a nearby area where the bandits are known to frequent. When Pawah appears there is a large battle in which Leih and Silvairre finally group up with us to take down the Poacher. With Pawah finally handled, Luciane admits that she has nothing else to teach us. That we would have to seek out other teachers and continually work on becoming an even better archer. Which will eventually lead us to the famous retired archer in the south shroud graced with the moogle’s favor. 

[finalfantabee]

I was gonna make a continuation of Bee's adventures to the first, but I'm as distracted as the Exarch.

The rest of the story:

[irlina-natulcen]

I tend to forgot I made a Carrrd for Irlina's story. Nothing too fancy, and as English is not my main language, I'm just trying my best ! I'll update it with time ! ♥ Please feel free to give a look !

[demita-ffxiv]

Borrowed from @peachyarts1031 on X. "

#wolqotd We still have a lot to learn for Dawntrail. However, do you know what awaits your WoL personally? Any ideas for their own personal arc, or maybe a new job? Theo will be looking at self-discovery and self-love, and how this helps him be the protector he wants to be."

Deme will be following Emet-selch's prompt to explore what he hasn't…and enjoying the culture, and food. He is grieving the loss of his friends (Ancients/convocation) so he will be looking forward to a change of scenery. He's MOST excited for an excuse to fight his friends. 😂

[mascotvt]

Things I couldn't put on twitter cause it's too long

Rhela is my Warrior of Light, a Keeper of the Moon/Seeker of the Sun hybrid who lost her family, who lost most of her friends when she was young. Yes, yes, I know, cliche tragic backstory. It doesn't matter much, I mean, it does, the backstory is way worse than what I'm writing here. She wasn't trusting of men for a long period of her life, she'd bite and claw anyone who touched her.

Which makes the fact that her best friend right now, is a Seeker male, a pirate and Maelstom officer, something to behold. N'iko Kyndtachsyn is her best friend. He's been with her through thick and thin. Or tried to be. For long stretches of her life, he's been out to sea, but he's always been one to tell stories and she always listened, no matter how crazy they sounded. He's afraid of women, specifically miqo'te women, but she doesn't seem to trigger that fear... If it wasn't for their past lives and how they feel about the opposite gender, they might've gotten together, but that never happened.

Now, Rhela herself, when she's handling the Warrior of Light duties, she's not... The Warrior of Light of legend. No, that's another woman. Rhela is just backup. She doesn't speak. She pulls out a journal, scribbles out words and pictures to communicate with those she's close to. She doesn't show her face, hells, the Warrior of Light doesn't either. But the Warrior of Light doesn't forge the connections that Rhela forms. The Warrior is too focused on combat, too focused on upholding the image, doesn't want to disappoint anyone. So they, despite being more talkative, doesn't try to become friends with any of the scions. They fight, they fight, they fight... and every time, they win. Almost every time.

Rhela watches it all, she fights alongside the Warrior. She forges connections with the Scions via her drawings and writings. She communicates with the twins the most. She tried to train herself before learning from Haurchefant. She doesn't speak a word... Let's her actions and her drawings speak for her. Tell her stories. She holds each Scion, each person she meets out in Eorzea to a high place in her heart. If someone betrays her, she falls apart, she's sensitive and vulnerable. She doesn't know what to do half the time she's fighting but she's here, she's doing what she can, she loves the world and it's people so much. She fights to protect them. She almost breaks down every time someone dies. Carrying bodies from the Waking Sands out to Drybone hurt. She could barely do it.

Those were people she cared about...

When Rava and Rhela made it to Garlemald, Rava took off her mask in Tertium. "This is the face of the Warrior of Light..." She said that... And Rhela learned she shared her face. Rava got punched for that by the garlean she was speaking too. Rhela was the one to tell the Twins to stand down, to not worry... That everything would be fine. She was crying behind her mask. Rava... Was stone cold. Like a Soldier. Like a Gladiator of the Blood Sands.

Rava is the Warrior of Light, Rhela's twin sister, woman raised as a Seeker as she shared those traits. Her father died by her brother's hand but that was not something she knew. Rava left the tribe before that. She wanted to explore the world, become strong. Become SOMETHING more than just a Seeker. So she aspired to higher and higher feats, she took on Primals. When she found her twin at the Waking Sands, she said nothing. She knew who it was and said nothing to Rhela. It was just another day for her. And she felt... Her sister didn't need to know that Rava was her twin. Would have opened them up for more angles of attacks against one another. A vulnerability that is family. Rava didn't want to be close to people, actively pushed them away. They helped her, yes, but she didn't want them being used against her, like they'd be used against Rhela later on.

[zerelth]

"I remember the rustling of trees and the footsteps of the forest's creatures. A distant stream of water, helping life flourish with every ripple. Blue and green, the colours of my childhood." 

Zerelth had a peaceful upbringing deep in the forests of Gridania. Due to the remote location of their cabin, it was rare for her to chance upon other children. Every so often she would see people in armors and robes, attacking the innocent creatures for unknown reasons. They never seemed to enjoy hurting the creatures either, usually leaving with tears welling up in their eyes. Some of them never bothered the creatures though. They would kneel down and pick herbs, roots and flowers, climb the trees for fruit and dig the earth for vegetables. Whether to sell or to eat, she did not know.

Her mum had advised her against approaching anyone she saw in the forest, especially those with weapons and battle garments. This warning made her wary of everyone she would see, including the children that rarely ever came around. "Even the children have wooden swords and wands. Their lives must be very dangerous," she would think to herself, oblivious to the issues outside of the woods. 

When she wasn't stalking strangers through bushes, she would spend her time playing with animals, swimming in the stream and looking at her reflection in the water. She would inspect her horns and scales, trying to see if they would come off only to end up hurting herself. Mum and dad didn't have them, and neither the people she would see, so they must come off once you grow up, she thought.

[regniersoldati]

Here's what to expect from my Tumblr page, btw! I figured some visual aid may help!

GPOSE of original characters (my OCs/others OCs)

Commissioned GPOSE sets

Storyboard pictures with text

And memes...especially the memes

[lucanforfonte]

❦  BOOK ONE - A Realm Reborn   ❦

❧ CHAPTER FOUR- - - - - The Ascian     PART SIX: conscripted

A man respected, in every sense of the word.

       Commodore Reyner Hansred was a man of distinguishment in Limsa Lominsa. At the head of the Yellowjackets, the people either revered him or hated him, depending on their lot in life and run in with the law of Limsa. Lucan could recognize and respect a man of reverence and therefore had the utmost respect for the Commodore. It still didn’t mean he wanted to take the man up on his offer to wear yellow. 

Though whether he was joining a guild finally or not was not the topic of conversation when Lucan made his way to the Marauder’s guild, where Reyner was waiting patiently with several others of the First Levy, the contingent assigned to the walls of Limsa Lominsa herself. Though the Commodore wasn’t the most stout of men, Lucan had found not many had to be to be formidable. 

“Ah, Ser Forfonte,” the Commodore called and the title grated on him, he’d given up the Ser when he’d abandoned his duties in the Temple Knights, but Reyner was ever a man of character and class. He’d learned early on that despite being told of his abandonment, a Ser would remain a Ser until his grave. “Thank you for joining me.” 

“It was a unique ploy,” Lucan uttered, looking up at him from the lower balcony. Reyner smiled, coy as ever, and turned to descend the stairs so he could be on level ground as Lucan. A man respected, in every sense of the word. Lucan waited patiently, nodding his late greeting when Reyner came to stand next to him. 

“Such are the ways you’ve established,” Reyner said and there was no malice in the words, but Lucan still found them irritating. He’d been hard to recruit for a reason. Because he wasn’t open to be conscripted into anything. But here he was, finding himself in the man’s presence anyway, waiting for orders. “Forgive me the deception?” 

Lucan squared his jaw. “If you tell me why I’m here.” 

“No doubt Wyrnzoen gave you some degree of explanation,” Reyner started, motioning for Lucan to follow him towards an empty table with stacks of papers upon it. Lucan did, but neither man took a seat. “Beyond that, it’s simple. The Red Reavers have taken up business in Limsa Lominsa and while my Yellowjackets are fully capable of culling their threat within the walls, the Fourth Levy has been wholly outnumbered.” 

The Fourth Levy, another contingent of the Yellowjackets, patrolled Western La Noscea. Lucan knew enough about the different branches of the Yellowjackets to know the Fourth found their home within Aleport. He’d drank with a few of them on occasion during his late night patrols. 

“Between the Sahagain and the Red Reavers, they’ve been run ragged. And now the Red Reavers are on the move. We could use a man whose bested one before. A man of your caliber.” 

Lucan sighed. “Conscript some of your pirates instead.” 

“And risk infiltration?” The question was a good one, the notion better and Lucan hated it. The Red Reavers were recruiting. He knew full well from his run in with Sevrin and the other farmhands at Summerford just how persuasive they could be. “No. We need a man we can trust. One job, that’s all I’m asking.” 

“Where?” Lucan asked, annoyed but knowing that he wasn’t going to say no to an ask like that. Reyner knew it too, there was no point in drawing this out longer than it needed to be. His thought went back to his dream of the Mothercrystal. No wasn’t going to be an answer he could afford much longer, he suspected. 

“Swiftperch.” 

[legionairemutt]

Bygone Days and Looming Final Hours: Endwalker Spoilers ahead. Trend with Caution

FFXIV OC comic strip

Kacius yae Galvus and Aloysius yae Galvus have a final heart to heart as brothers as the "Final Days" loom. Aka: I finally got motivation to post anything I've made for my WOL canon and the massive changes / Au content I made during my FFXIV play through. These two are essentially resonant clone experiments and were officially / unofficially adopted by Varis in a rare lucid moment for the man, making them Zenos' defacto younger brothers. And my favorite tragedy in the mess that is my and my fiance's WOL's story.

[wander-across-the-firmament]

I would like to share my story about my ffxiv character with you. Maybe I'll write a fanfiction out of it at some point. English is not my mother language so I apologize in advance if I write something wrong. I continue to study hard. I'll give my best! Matsuri's story: In the sixth, final Age of Light, a Miqo'te with special powers was chosen by Hydaelyn to save Eorzea and the entire world from destruction. Her name was Matsuri Matsumoto. A cheerful girl who came from the Seekers of the Sun clan. She had short, light pink hair and light blue eyes that sparkled like crystals. But when she wanted to protect her loved ones, she got into a fatal accident - at least that's what everyone thinks and that's what they've been saying over the years - and she died before she could help in the battle of Carteneau. Years have passed since then and her soul continued to wander full of self-guilt. Driven by grief, she blamed herself for not paying attention, for not listening to her friends. Her soul longed for her friends. She missed them deeply and her soul threatened to sink into the void. However, the Mothercrystal heard and felt the feelings of Matsuri's soul and so she was given a second chance and a new life was given to her.

Her name is Matsuri Levanter. A compassionate and warm-hearted Miqo'te who has helped many throughout her adventure. Matsuri comes from the Seekers of the Sun clan. She has shoulder-length, light blonde hair, light blue eyes that shine as brightly as stars in the night sky and face paint on her face that the Mothercrystal gave her. She has no memories of her previous life except for one memory that keeps replaying in her dreams. Since then, she has been looking for answers and travels with the Scions of the seventh Dawn to protect the world.

[hearts-of-winter]

Limsan Roleplayers after Endwalker

[destiny-islanders]

haven't beaten ffxvi yet, excited to get to the part where the dog flies

[finalfantabee]

In the Dark

-

The the answer of how do non-WoLs get to Shadowbringers? Flash the Exarch.

Just a little testy-test of comic making, with the goal of illustrating more of Bee's lore. It's not perfect, but I'm pretty happy with it!

Big love to @/jackiebrightley [Twitter] for being my Warrior of Light.

[goth-catte]

Endwalker Spoilers

The Eorzean invasion of Garlemald had been… profitable, to say the least. Naalie knew most of those troops who marched into the frozen north had done so out of selflessness, working diligently to save the lives of so many and preserve the freedom of those lands that had once fallen under that ivory banner of tyranny.

Not Naalie, though. Naalie wasn’t now, nor would she ever be, a ‘hero’. Her small, one-seater fighter plane had soared over the skies of Ilsabard and done its fair share of aid for the alliance; strafing runs had helped provide ground troops the cover they needed to advance against the magitech horrors that the empire cranked out, and her aerial daring-do brought down more than a few of the sky creations of Garlemald. When all was said and done, the commander of whichever squadron her little crew of pilots had been attached to had called them, her included, ‘heroes’, though she knew full well that she was anything but.

The sky pirate from the Ruby Sea hasn’t cared for altruism in the way they all had, she had come for one thing above all else - profit. And as the thirty-fourth rule on acquisition stated - war was good for business. Those downed magitech contractions were loaded with goods that she could strip away and sell to some people back in her favorite ports of call, the warehouses and store yards that lay abandoned were full of goods that the locals desperately needed and some were even willing to part with their own valuables at extreme markup to get their hands on them. What were family heirlooms, a beloved piece of jewelry, or hard coin when you were huddled in a cold house with naught by crumbs to eat? No, Naalie was no hero - she was the very worst of what came with the alliance.

====

M o n t h s A g o

The wind was a bitter thing blowing around the shattered shell of what had been some building or another just a few weeks prior. The roof, and two of the exterior walls, was long since gone, burned away in a fire that had not only consumed this building but nearly everything around it as well. Foliage had burnt to a crisp, leaving little more than charred stumps where a few defiant trees had once stood against the cold of northern Ilsabard.

The front had moved on, the combined forces of the Eorzean alliance pushing on into the barely-beating heart of the once-mighty empire. Naalie, though, had stayed behind with the closest thing to a friend that she still had. The years hadn’t been kind to her crew, and this war even less so; despite her insistence that she or her ilk were far from heroes, there had been several with whom she had flown that had sacrificed their lives all the same. The dead were still dead despite the real motivations that got them there, so Naalie didn’t do a thing to dissuade others from speaking highly of them.

Not herself, though. The Dortharli woman was still alive and kicking, for now, and was more than capable of deflecting any honor thrown her way by the unwitting or naive. If any of those praise-giving commanders could see her now, leaning against the husk of this building scamming some local out of their stashed valuables in exchange for a tiny canister of cereuleum for their heaters and the most meager amount of food… well, they’d certainly change that opinion, wouldn’t they?

The tail of her coat whipped wildly around her ankles, and the thin stream of acrid smoke from the tip of her cigarette joined the blustery snow kicked up by the breeze. She watched with dark, half-lidded eyes as her only surviving companion in the sky finalized the negotiations, or highway robbery, with the small contingent of needy civilians. Naalie supposed she should feel bad for them, but she’d seen suffering all over this world - why was theirs any more precious than anybody else’s? Nobody had lent her a helping hand in her own times of need.

“A’right,” the gruff voice of the grizzled Highlander, Bodvarr, said to the Garlean’s representative - if the old, bent-backed man could even be called as such. “You toss us that bag of goodies there.” He paused, his chapped lips turning up into a cruel smirk before continuing, “Or if you can’t manage it, maybe that pretty lass back with the rest of ‘em can manage it for you. That’s it, nice n’ strong.”

The elderly man gave Bodvarr a glare so mighty that Naalie was surprised it didn’t somehow strike the pirate down. She rolled her own eyes at his comments, hidden from her companion by the ceaseless flurries and strong winds. The man did an underarm swing, sending a bag half full with the household’s collected goods arcing through the freezing air and landing in the snow at Bodvarr’s feet with a solid THUNK. Bodvarr looked down, kneeling to pick it up with one hand… and the other resting openly on the hilt of his pistol. When he plucked it from the drift he balanced it in one palm, testing its weight and making sure it was a satisfactory amount inside. “That’ll do mighty fine, I think. Right, Red?”

His comment was directed to Naalie, the crimson skinned Xaela some several fulms away. She could only give a sort of disinterested shrug and a grunt of affirmation. “Good enough,” she said, taking the cue to push away from the wall. She leaned down to pick up two canvas sacks from the ground at her feet - one containing the heater fuel, the other an assortment of stale bread and staler meat they had ‘repurposed’ on one of their foraging missions. Neither really contained enough, and the sacks were light enough that she didn’t struggle with either.

Neither were worth what these people paid for them. She kicked her way through the accumulating snow to cross the fulms to the exchange area and tossed them between Garlean and Highlander. They fell with a much more solid thump, and kicked up a few flurries of their own. Naalie was the recipient of a glare of her own from the man, and his entire party, for her part in this. She wasn’t surprised, she damned well deserved it she knew.

Two quick, loud reports sounded - one from Bodvarr’s pistol, the shot going wide and missing the man and his family entirely… and one from the smoking barrel of Naalie’s, her aim unfortunately much truer than that of her companion.

There was a moment of eerie stillness in the seconds that followed, as if time itself had slowed to a stop. She felt the hammering of her heart in her chest, the echoing of the gunshot in her ears, the sting of the wind against her exposed skin. But the world, for that brief yet infinite period, stopped.

Then, abruptly, it all slammed back into motion once more.

The family was shrieking, all of them diving into the snow for cover. The old man grabbed at the sacks, tumbling forward in his attempt. And Bodvarr… Bodvarr stood still, his arm still outstretched. Slowly, impossibly slowly, the gun fell from his numbing fingers and dropped to the snow at his feet. His head turned, eyes wide with the shock of pain and betrayal, locking onto Naalie. The gaze only lasted a few beats of the heart, the final beats of his for sure, but she would remember it until her soul passed on to the next life. The hurt, the surprise, the fury. In an instant it was gone, the life leaving his eyes entirely and his body slumping backward.

“Go!” Naalie shouted at the Garleans, pushing herself up to a sit; she watched this unfolding shitshow, a myriad of horrors welling up within her as she did. “Take it all and go!” She yelled again. They needed no further encouragement. She wasn’t sure what was stronger in their glares as they gathered everything - the hatred for putting them in this spot or the gratitude of choosing their lives over her fellow scoundrel’s. Naalie would never know, but those glares, too, would haunt her for the rest of her days. As they ran off into the white-out snow, Naalie simply sat there as her own shock began to take hold.

“Fuck…” was all she could manage.