#Sylbfohc Ostulmsyn

[diskwrite-ffxiv]

ffxivwrite 2021 - #13 Oneirophrenia

((cw: implied torture, death))

An Imperial prison - Ala Mhigo, 1561 6AE

If she wanted, she could let go.

The realization shocked a flare of fear that ripped in a tingling sweep beneath her skin, but as the surge prickled away it melted into a warmth that bubbled up Ojene’s throat and spilled out into rasping laughter that floated unnaturally through her ears.

How oddly the Garlean watching over her must be looking at her now. As the laughter died the sense of it remained, floating balloon-like through her mind, and she imagined the stupid look on the guard’s dumb face. She couldn’t see it after all. Her eyes had lost the ability to focus some time ago on the endless ocean she floated upon, arms spread wide as every lap of the waves against her face throbbed with the pain that cushioned her back. Devoured her in its embrace, til there was nothing left but the distant awareness of it somewhere far below.

Blearily she blinked, struggling her eyes wider, for whenever she dared to let them close for longer than a split-second he stepped forward knife raised. What was another cut to join the others, their crosshatch pattern coating her like a second shirt as they seeped into the tattered rags she wore. Yet every time he did she felt the scream ravage her throat, her closely trained stoicism long since collapsed.

But this time the Imperials had taken it too far. The balloon of laughter sublimated into a haze of revolving glee that slipped through her awareness like an eel. They’d told her she’d never be free again, but ah! She could barely feel the stone floor beneath her, the everlasting weight of the manacles on her wrists featherlight as if the chains themselves fell away. With each thud of her heart the pain surged, then faded, each wave growing dimmer like the receding of a tide. It could take her with it, and then it would be done. Slipped away beneath their noses, if only she could keep her eyes open long enough to maintain the ruse.

Head lolling sideways, she flexed her fingers faintly with her pulse. It wouldn’t be long.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she murmured.

She wasn’t sure she made a sound, but it made no difference. A sensation pushed against her chest like the firm press of a thumb, the creeping vice of disapproval.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she said. “The Garleans, they take everything, even you.”

The vice’s crank turned as the pressure grew, and she saw his eyes, sharp and grey upon her.

“Stop looking at me like that. Just let me go… we’ll see each other again when you’re dead. It’s the best way.”

In the pit of her senses- or what was left of them- she felt as much as heard his low rumble of dissent, like a distant peal of thunder vibrating the stone beneath her fingertips. Get up, Ojene.

“No,” she groaned. “Don’t make me do this again. I can’t.”

You can. You must.

“Why?” she demanded, and suddenly through the fading haze a spike of anger shot through, hot and sizzling.

You know why.

“Don’t you think I’m trying to come back to you?”

You’re not. You’re trying to die.

“Well, that’s the bloody fucking point!” Ojene snapped, and suddenly she wasn’t floating upon the ocean anymore but standing upright, somewhere, in some seamless fog as her clenched hands raged at her sides.

You’re not allowed, his voice admonished, but even as it did it melted into something softer. Gentler, as if it molded into a soft caress that breathed against her jaw. Come back to me- whole.

“I…” she started, but it was too late. A tether looped around her waist and with a faint tugging sensation she spilled forth.

Rapidly her eyes fluttered, and as the world rose back into blinking awareness a shape loomed over her. A hiss slipped into her ears, and as Ojene squinted hard the Garlean guard blurred into focus- as did the blade in his hand. But he frowned down at her, unmoving, and as a deep breath cascaded unwillingly into her lungs so did the surge of pain as it blanketed her entire torso.

Her hands tightened and the manacles rattled, the tips of her fingers numb.

“Fuck you,” Ojene spat aloud, and she passed out.

((@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast))

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

FFxivWrite2020 Prompt #1: Crux

YEAR: 1564, 8 years before the Calamity LOCATION: Rhotano Sea, south of Vyelbrand IDENTITY: The Pirate “Blaetmoen” AGE: 16 TRUE NAME: Unknown CONTENT WARNING: Blood, violence, character death

Written entry below the cut~

An axe swings down upon Blaetmoen and her eyes flash, it’s shaft swiftly gathered between the prongs of her trident. With a deft twist, the axe is caught, and she redirects its momentum to bury the blade in the ship’s deck beside her. Shoulder to shoulder with her Barracuda enemy, she jabs her blade-armored elbow into the man’s throat. Wresting her trident free, she returns to standing, leaving her opponent gurgling on the deck floor amidst a chaotic, close-quarters battle atop the deck of one of the Limsan Armada’s smaller vessels. 

A shot fires on the other side of the deck and she ducks reflexively, as do a handful of others. In a battle so tightly packed, gunfire was rare and momentous - a bold and pointed declaration of a personal vendetta important enough to risk accidentally hitting one of your own. Jerking her gaze toward the source, she sees her Captain, Fraefyr the Red, his back to her, with musket raised opposite a massive Barracuda Sergeant. Blood blooms from the Sergeant’s shoulder, rendering his arm useless. With a clatter barely heard over the fray, he drops his greataxe and stumbles backward, grappling for his own musket. The Fraefyr kicks the Sergeant in his stomach and the great man falls, his hat toppling from his head. 

A sharp breath fills Blaetmoen’s lungs at the sight of this man’s face, and at once the battle slows, each bloodied figure caught in an illusion of altered time as they battled, grimacing, across the scene. A dull ringing fills her ears, drowning out all other sounds, and her mouth goes dry as horror prickles down her neck. Slowly, Fraefyr advances, pressing one boot against the Sergeant’s hand when he finally frees his musket.  

“No,” she breathes, unable to hear her own voice. “Sylb-” Her eyes dart between the two figures, color leeching from her knuckles as the grip on her trident tightens.

Fraefyr begins to raise his gun, the barrel charting a slow-motion course toward this familiar man’s heart. 

“No--” Adrenaline hits her veins, transforming horror into urgency. And, before she can think, she acts.

Shifting her weight to her back foot, she steps forward with the other, trident lifting to align with her shoulders. With her front hand aiming the strike, the back prepares to throw, strength coiling in her shoulder. Her feet are quick as they dance forward, shifting her weight from back to front at the precise moment that she vaults her strength into a well-aimed throw. The trident sails through battling pirates and Barracudas, narrowly missing an unintended mark, before striking Fraefyr in between his shoulder blades. 

Fraefyr goes rigid, then staggers. His musket falls from an abruptly loosened hand, then he topples onto the familiar Sergeant. Struggling against the pain in his wounded shoulder, the Sergeant shoves the fallen Captain off of himself, frees his own musket, and fires a final shot into Fraefyr’s chest.

Breathing hard, the Sergeant searches the deck for his savior and squints when his eyes fall upon Blaetmoen - young, unarmed, and frozen in place with a wide-eyed expression that renders her oddly child-like in the moment. At once, his features soften in an awe-filled expression of one who dares to hope against all odds. 

His voice lost amidst the abrupt return of battle cries and clashing blades, Blaetmoen sees his lips form her true name.

Her eyes trail to the lifeless body beside the familiar sergeant. Fraefyr. Her Captain. She had just killed her Captain.

And she feels sick.

[jancisstuff]

Torene’s Nameday

I do not know what it is like to have a nameday. I have been to others. Eroich’s. Chachanji’s. One time I got bait for Barengar so he could fish on that day and played the harp awhile.

They are all different. So I did something different, as well. Torene would most likely not recall much of the nameday. But others would. And they care for her. So it was not really Torene’s nameday, but everyone-who-cares-for-Torene-in-some-way nameday.

It was for them.

Though not everyone could make the appointment, well-wishes were sent. In some way they still enjoyed the feeling and time from whatever distance. I had food and one thing to do. Talk about where Torene was one Turn ago and finish the bracelet of jade beads.

Twelve jade beads. One for each moon. Each one important in their own way. How remarkable to pay attention to each with such attention. How she has changed and grown. How I have changed and in some ways grown.

Her heart and body have grown while mine has calmed. Her eyes seeing new things, mine seeing the same things in a new way.

The day she stayed awake until the end, looking at each person in turn and the gifts they brought. They themselves were the gift, but all the same they had to leave a momento, an intention of care and protection.

The Gifts:

Aralinde: Her time. This little one though she did not leave Dogberry’s side, spent time with Torene. Understanding the work it takes to travel – especially so young – to see Dogberry, she gave her time to be with him to share it with us. Strangers now friends. I think of her now in Rhalgr’s Reach. I must send her flowers so she remembers the Beds and the Shroud until she returns.

Baeyl: Many. Baeyl brought many I noticed. The first was her smile. The way her lips lifted up as if it was only for me to see. A secret smile that had knowledge and care behind it. The second was a set of floral pomanders with a holder carved with beautiful beasts; for the hard days where sleep was fleeting and needed aid. The last was her, a mother. A mother with much to share.

Barengar: I noticed him early on as others arrived, one of the first. He is hard to not notice, his size alone. First time I had seen the Ala Mhigan since removing the pearl. He stayed until all others departed, a gift of broken ginger cookies wrapped in parchment. It was on purpose, of course, to make the cookie last longer for a tiny person. The right amount for Torene to taste when something fun happened. Almost a training, that good things in life were connected to these sweet warm ginger cookies. Just like the ones his brother adored.

Chachanji: One of the first to know about Torene’s coming before we even knew who she was. He arrived with a box nearly as tall as himself, wrapped in decorated paper and written in large letters that only a smith’s hand could make “FOR TORENE”. He guarded it with care and in a small way I was sad to open it. The idea of a box so well decorated and wrapped to look special had to be enjoyed for existing despite what lay inside. There is a lot of intention and love when someone receives a box like that. Afterall, surprise is part of the gift. Inside was the largest plush I have ever laid eyes upon. Soft and fluffy with patches and mending, a chocobo much larger than Torene to share the bedspace with and keep her company through all her travels. He said it was his from younger days. What a wonder. To have such a treasure and to pass it on. I must needs help Torene care for this plush until she understands and can handle it herself.

Cheche: I had heard about this woman from Nathaniel. She was like a flower in a meadow, swaying to blur anyone’s vision to not see her directly. I feel remiss I rarely had a chance to speak with her. To thank her for a gift that was so well placed it was distracted as others brought gifts. Finally did I have a moment to look upon it properly. It deserved that. There was a lot of thought involved. A gathering of charms. It reminded me of the bracelet Torene wore of jade. Charms of well wishes and protection. Wards I was not greatly familiar with, animals, and one hosting the Twelve together. I must needs thank her for this gift.

Cinnabar: A steadfast companion. I personally missed much of Cinnabar’s time with Torene, but could hear it as she introduced Kwehgraf and helped them get along. I heard afterwards that Torene fed the small chocobo chick with her own hand and got to feel the soft red feathers! That the little one is safe and content to join so many others, after all the ordeals it has endured, is truly a gift. No doubt Cinnabar is to thank for the cloudkin’s demeanor. She is an example of sweetness and strength perfectly balanced.

Dogberry: Since the war spreading, I am happy to work with this man once again. Much as he is humble about his rank, I respect that. He is still as a Captain as he is not one. It never mattered. Along with bringing his daughter Aralinde, he brought beautiful blocks of wood dyed in vibrant colors. Big enough to hold in a tiny hand. They are fun to stack and even more fun to knock over to stack again.

Denz: That he was able to make it was enough, but he came with more all the same. Not Aedwen, which surprised me, but with things for Torene and myself. Astrelle had made them, he told me, two matching charms on a chain bearing the De’bayle family crest. It matches the charm bracelet for Torene, not as subtle. He is very intent on reassuring this connection. His sweetbread, he calls her. It fits. And after that, he carried the many wonders that piled next to Torene, even the large chocobo. All the while letting Torene sleep against his ribs.

Fatima: She is bright like a star and smiles so bright I even caught Torene looking expressly at it. Alas, there were so many to greet I did not greet the lady as much as I wanted. Still, she brought a gift more than eating some of the many sandwiches the party had. There was a bag of gil coins. Many. I will have to find someone to teach Torene how these coins work, for I know I do not understand them well enough. A place within her bed I can store them. Until the time comes. So many coins.

Flora: I did not get to speak to her, but she brought a friend. Perhaps she is training with beastkin? It was a large feline that kept her arms busy and gave her so many kisses it looked as if the woman was blushing from the redness. I did see Ghaellon and Barengar smiling. I was so glad to see her.

Ghalleon: As with Flora, I was remiss to not greet with more than a hello. I still carry his prayer with me and that is a grand gift. How funny it is to think back to last Autumn and the concerns he had for me. And the argument we had, having a meeting of minds. Yet now here we all were, smiling and glad to have people we recall and remember. To enjoy some company even for a short while. The gift of a friend.

Jacline: She had a cane. I could see the fatigue in her face, even through smirks and funny jokes. We were together when the aether changed, to see some of the truths. I knew she was still recovering from that ordeal. Yet here she was regardless, standing, joking, and even brought Torene the most amazing present. I half-spun when the jack-in-a-box sprung near violently out of its box. Torene still stares at it. A first foe? A first fear to overcome? It was perfect. It has a funny song then a big surprise, like a prank. Torene will grow to love it, I know it.

Nathaniel: He came to the Shroud. Those few words mean a great deal. All my energies and efforts were put into Torene for this sun and he understood that. Then also came with kin and friends, eyes of amber keeping an watchful eye on them all as well as Torene. And me. As if that was not enough, he presented her with three gifts. Three useful gifts. They were useful in more than their intended purpose as his apprentice made them to learn the craft. Though I would think it a masters, a journeyman’s at least. A light shaped like a fish that can create light from water. I already use it to tell Torene stories when the sky is without stars.  A spool of thread that looks to be made of gold, for all the tears and rips clothing in play will get. And one thing I know is of Nathaniel’s own hand without him telling me. It feels like the staff he gifted me with. An amulet of moonstone that could purge darkness. To keep her safe. For truly the darkest of suns. Such potent magicks can only last so long, but from the make I can tell it is made for such and can be re-imbued. Not that by the reason alone would I take Torene to Nathaniel. There is another home there.

Ojene: A music box of soft wood that smelled like the ocean and has many animals embossed with metal carved into its frame. It was wrapped in a soft blue cloth that Torene even covers the box with, then uncovers it. I think it keeps the animals shiny. I got to play the music the other night, it was as if Menphina wrote the tune, a song of love and sweetness that lulled both of us to sleep. I realized that Ojene had only recently returned from Doma and made the trip to the Twelveswood after being so long from her beautiful house and home. Her own child was resting there, naught but a Turn older than Torene. I cannot wait to see her again and learn more.

Reginald: I am so glad Reginald has come back into my life. He is the most unique knight I have met to date. An old friend. He arrived with a quilt Torene still grabs often. Each square is unique to its fabric and feel. The colors are warm. I think for Torene it is still a mystery, for each time she finds a different square, it is as if the entire feel and sound is new. I will have to ask him what scents he wants added to it as they fade. Right now it smells a lot like the cologne he was wearing.

Sui: For good health. There was a big bouquet of bright marigolds. Many like a setting sun in Summer. And some like a sun at full noon! It was enough to see Sui’s bright smile, but then the flowers. I found one of the tucked into Torene’s blanket when she fell asleep. The others I will carefully dry and preserve. A marigold is a challenging flower for such a task, but they are for good health and a gift to last a lifetime.

Swozbhar: I saw him talking with Tausenadel. Is he also interested in beasts? Or the sea? It was good to see him, especially in happier times and with less stress in his face. He brought a beautiful wind chime of bones from seakin. It must have taken a lot of work, for none of it smelled fishy, only the soothing scent of salt like an ocean. He said it was more for me than Torene, but who could not enjoy such a thing? I can see Llymlaen sending a breeze to make its soft music start. Or if the Navigator cannot, I just might.

Sylbfohc: He was beaming despite long suns at sea and only arriving back home, and so funny. Torene lit up at his full voice, mouth open in some of the biggest smiles even at first meeting. She does not see a lot of beards, though. And his is certainly eye-catching. I look forward to sharing more stories of his daughter Little Estorme as well as the invitation to work for him with the Maelstrom. Even atop all those things, he insisted on a bag with many gil coins within. For Torene and all the things she will need. I must needs store it away. Such things are beyond me. Traders willing, they will not be beyond her.

Tausenadel: Long have I known Tausen and he was the best hands to help with the party. His experience with beasts, be it to rescue them and recuperate or keep them, is second to none. The Beds were full of many of his little fosters and wards that sun, finding new hands to pet and flowers to explore. He also told many a story, including some of mine favorites. Even if the group got dysentery. I could tell most of the others enjoyed it, pausing in whatever they were doing to listen. I am lucky to have such a great friend.

Ulysses: I know he is still recovering, but still he came. And not alone. Marcel was with him. A bearcub that I knew was small for what he would become, but ever so large already. It was so nice to see him. 

Thank you, generous guests.

[radio-free-beth-sarim]

A Moonfire Tradition

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

I love everything about this piece! The narrative is subtle and so good: their long histories as soldiers written on their skin in the form of scars. They met in their 20s, were separated by war, briefly found each other again in their 30s only to be separated again, married in secret in their 40s, and now, in their 50s, are finally free to enjoy the life together that they'd hoped for.

They've fought long and hard to be together, and they deserve a little fun in the sun!

@diskwrite-ffxiv - Thank you for being such an amazing friend and RP partner! I love the slow burn that we've played out with our dorks over the last 7 years that we've known each other. And I love YOU!! 💖 Please enjoy this beautiful gift: our garbage babies playing at the beach.

@dantinmikannes - You! YOU!! This is gorgeous work! You were an absolute pleasure to work with and I'm SO HAPPY with the result. 10/10 Will absolutely commission again... and may even be planning my second commission already. 😁

Not-so-Young Love

@diskwrite-ffxiv @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

[tiergan-vashir]

"Dear, Lurial ~ It would seem that I will be working with you & your brother for the foreseeable future. Though none are happy with our circumstances, I mean to do all I can to support and protect those involved. How can I best support and protect the two of you?" –Sylbfohc Ostulmsyn

A Maelstorm Commander was asking how best he could support and protect an Ul’dahn information broker seeking to expand her network into La Noscea?  Lurial’s eyes lit with the sheer number of possibilities - a slow, calculating smile creeping across her face as she took everything in. There were so many things she wanted to suggest.“Luri - no.”  Tiergan frowned.Lurial protested. “But, he is ever so kindly offering to--”“Luri. No.” “But think of all the things I could do if--”“Luri.”  Tiergan crossed his arms in disapproval.

 “Fine, Fine. Very well.” The elder Vashir sighed, finally relenting.“I’ll send him the usual information on how best to reach us, where our mutual enemies can be found, and what they look like.  ... And maybe just a teeny, tiny request later for certain bits of information.”

[kilieit]

“Sister Fury”: "Ahh... this one has a crown." “Sister Fury” shows the Queen card to the group.

Kaito Nagano again looks straight at Fury's card, then grins. Kaito Nagano: "He drew the Queen!" A'lexi Ross: "You get to ask everyone a question! Try to make it hard to answer. 'cause if they don't, they got'a drink." Dishel Dinwell lifts his glass in a toast, and drinks while he waits.

“Sister Fury”: "I am a fair an' lovely Dutiful Sister o' the Edelweiss, an' I suppose that makes this confession, aye?" “Sister Fury” bursts out laughing. Sylbfohc Ostulmsyn bursts out laughing at “Sister Fury”. A'lexi Ross blows “Sister Fury” a kiss. Honoura Hawke laughs at “Sister Fury” .

Kaito Nagano: "First things first, I will not admit to any crimes I have committed before being promoted." Kaito Nagano flashed a toothy smile. Honoura Hawke: "So you're drinking in advance?" Dishel Dinwell looks on, a grin creeping across his face. Yep, alchohol'd. A'lexi Ross: "Ask him about 'is crimes!" Ojene Suinuet: "So you have committed crimes, then?" A'lexi Ross: "ASK!"  Ojene Suinuet smiles a bit too wide. 

“Sister Fury”: "Ay, that'd be borin'. I know all that shite." “Sister Fury” grins.  A'lexi Ross pouts.

Kaito Nagano: "So ask me something interesting, oh student of mine."

“Sister Fury”: "Lessee... ay. Here's one. Was you really so sure you was gonna win? T'other night, when you fair lopped off half my horn?"

Kaito Nagano: ". . ." Kaito Nagano gazes upon “Sister Fury” in deep reflection. Honoura Hawke gazes upon Kaito Nagano in deep reflection. A'lexi Ross frowns at Kaito.

Kaito Nagano slapped his helmet closed. Kaito Nagano: "That's no question. I just wasn't sure if I was going to bisect you."

Ojene Suinuet quirks a brow. Then she casts a wry smile on Fury.

“Sister Fury”: "Ay, well, 's a good thing you ain't, or else you wouldn't'ave been able to enjoy the fair company here!"

Kaito Nagano refrains from making living dead jokes and watches on.

Thank you @maelstrom-command for having my loveable rogue at your Hatchingtide party!!

[honoura]

Maelstrom Command: Mist, West Wing - Evidence 

There was a sound of footsteps from down the hall. By now, Honoura had stopped looking; the odds felt about even it was either an actual pair of boots... or a less substantial source. Some had been faint -- easy enough to tell herself it was a crewmate going down for a drink or a meal. Others had been loud and purposeful. She’d been unnerved enough by one that she’d honest-to-gods shut her eyes a moment.  No one had been there. She’d shuddered, rubbed her face, and told herself that. Nobody here. Just you. Indoors. Safe as houses. 

Just her, a hallway, and an ominous... presence? Guest? Could she call it a guest. Was there even a point in debating it? Prolly not, she thought in answer, ‘cept to distract maybe. Besides, whoever had been in that petal probably wasn’t... there likely wasn’t much to call a mind. It was hard to sympathize anyway, given what was going on around the command. Honoura had never been exactly keen on magic before. The affect the recovered chest from Pharos did not change her opinion. 

Creepy Mood Music for Flavor

The neighbors hadn’t shied away before, but the folks passing the building more than once within the first day or so were anything but their neighbors. These were strangers -- if she’d seen them before, it was likely closer to the wharf. Or maybe at a fight club night.

Even so, the looks on their faces in those settings were nothing like their faces now. Lean. Hungry. They heard it. One had already tried; quickly apprehended of course, but even in cuffs and flanked by two Yellowjackets, the miqo’te hadn’t stopped raving. “You don’t understand, I have so many questions”, he said,”I have to find out. I have to know. So many answers!” They’d assumed being new to the stresses of being an arcanist, humoring his ramblings while they hauled him off. Never mind he’d been furiously scrawling in his grimoire, ready to raze some part of the building in his search. 

He didn’t resemble Vell in the slightest, a fact she was grateful for. Still, she swore she saw a topaz colored tail out of the corner of her eye at one point. Real or not, she hissed at it,”Mind your master for once. Git!” Honoura didn’t see it again.

Even now, she heard it from down the hall; all that Commander Sylbfohc had told her was ‘the West Wing’ as a location. It didn’t matter -- she felt like if she listened hard enough, the mask would guide her to it easily enough. She supposed if it came to that, it was a viable method to stealing the artifact. <<Let it reveal itself, then secret it away somewhere. Away from the command center, the levy. Everyone.>> The voice was calm, steady. It rang of advice and reassurance. <<You can fix all this, Honoura.>> 

She shook her head, reaching for a worry stone in her pocket to distract herself. Like calling a wayward child to your side, she thought, Or luring prey with bait. As if in response to that thought, the hallway felt dimmer than it had before. Darker, too -- the air had the dank feeling of a crypt. They could be molding right now for all she dared to look. Maybe it wasn’t just minds that rotted around this thing; who could say that given enough time the floors wouldn’t warp and splinter under the weight. 

<<It doesn’t have to be like this. You have a choice this time. This isn’t a game of chance.>> Her throat closed up and her mouth went dry. <<Don’t hesitate twice, Sister.>> 

It’snothimit’snothimit’snothim, she looked down the hall, shivering and shoving her hands in her uniform pockets. She stared. One minute. Then two. Maybe a quarter bell to a half. Nothing. Honoura heard nothing but her own breathing. Stepping back to her post, she crossed her arms, trying to wrangle paranoia to something manageable.

It can’t stay here, she thought in between heartbeats. Honoura shot a quick glance down the hall, and then quickly looked away. There had to be a moment, an opening, a chance. Provided she could manage to hold out that long. <<It can’t stay here.>>

@maelstrom-command @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

[maelstrom-command]

~5th Annual~ Maelstrom Grand March Parade!

Hosted by the Maelstrom Command RP Discord & LinkShell Community

WHEN: Sunday, January 31 4pm EST

click here for helpful time conversions

WHERE: Limsa Lominsa

Parade begins at the Astalicia pier (5,14) and ends at the Aftcastle (11,13) with salute demonstrations along the way.

All characters with IC ties to the Maelstrom are invited to join us! Put on your Lominsan Soldier’s, or Lominsan Officer’s, uniform set and march along with us.

If you’re wearing either of these two Maelstrom uniforms, you’re welcome to hop in and join the march at any point along the way. Simply select the last person in one of the two marching lines, set your character to walk, and activate /follow. Storm Commander Sylbfohc Ostulmsyn will periodically halt the line for group /gcsalute demonstrations. Make sure that you have /yell turned on in your chat window!

I recommend putting the following emotes in your action bar if you have them:

/rrpb (Red Ranger Pose B)

/brpb (Black Ranger Pose B)

/gcsalute (Grand Company Salute)

And, here’s a handy macro that you can use when Sylb shouts “‘til sea swallows all!” at the final salute point, if you’d like:

/gcsalute motion

/em gives a Storm Salute, shouting in unison with their fellow Storm soldiers, “‘til sea swallows all!”

Not the marching type?

No problem! Grab a few friends, find a cozy spot along the parade’s path, and sit back and enjoy the festivities. Light off some fireworks as the soldiers salute!

See you there!

~‘Til sea swallows all!~

[diskwrite-ffxiv]

ffxivwrite2021 - #14 Commend

Present Day - pre-Ghimlyt

The paper brimmed with life, but who knew what sort. Once the pale back of a discarded flier pulled from the market, now it was a tangle of colors morphed into indeterminate shapes that scrabbled this way and that, with spindly protrusions woven into great round blobs. To the untrained eye it was, in a word, a morass.

But as Ojene planted her elbows on the dining room table and leaned over the page, she asked the only expert there could be, “What is that?”

The artist scrunched up her nose and jabbed a stubby finger into the middle. “It’s you an’ me. And… the monster!”

With an exaggerated gasp, Ojene leaned closer. “The monster?”

“Yeah!” she crooned, her dark eyes alight with feral promise. “We’re gonna fight. I gave you a sword!”

There was indeed a grey triangle lighter than the rest of the grey around the spindly collection of sticks that was her own representation on the page.

“A sword,” Ojene proclaimed. “How thoughtful. What kind of monster are we fighting?”

“It’s big… and blobby… with lots of teeth.” The artist fastened her hands around her mouth, fingers arched in the facsimile of fangs clenched around her giant grin.

“I see.” Ojene hooked a finger in the middle of the digits, and with a nasally mock growl she tugged against the false fangs like a small struggling animal failing to break free, a show that sent its recipient into a cavalcade of gigges.

A few moments later Ojene plucked the artist up into her lap as she slipped into a chair. “What else did you draw? Did you put your father in here?”

“Here!” she jabbed a finger towards a much blobbier shape right of the paper’s center, the skin etched in an unnaturally bright shade of green. “We’re gonna rescue him.”

Ojene struggled to bite back a laugh, but bite it back she did- she ruffled a hand through the artist’s wavy black hair. “I see. Well I can’t argue with that- if any monster saw you coming, it’d turn tail and run.” But, a light glinted in her eyes, and she leaned down to her daughter’s ear. “Or would it?”

The air filled with delighted screams.

((@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast))

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

FFxivWrite2020 Prompt #2: Sway

YEAR: 1564, 8 years before the Calamity LOCATION: Rhotano Sea, south of Vyelbrand IDENTITY: The Pirate “Blaetmoen” AGE: 16 TRUE NAME: Unknown CONTENT WARNING: Blood, description of panic

Written entry below the cut~

Continuation of Prompt #1

Breath comes heavy and strained, rushing through Blaetmoen’s tightened throat. She swallows then coughs against the bone-dry grit in her mouth, unable to move - to even turn her eyes away from the corpse of her Captain, her trident glinting dully from his back. His coat, normally a brighter red, darkens around each sunken prong with the warm slick of blood. Thick, and quickly growing. 

Cold creeps into her fingertips inching slowly upward like autumnal frost, the feral blaze of summer’s battles chased away. Sweat, equally chilly, creeps through her veins and she opens and closes her hands. Weaponless. Defenseless. A Traitor amidst a still-raging battle, suddenly on her own.

And worse, the man who spoke her true name was still staring from across the way.

With a fresh shock of adrenal panic, she casts her gaze wide and forces her feet in motion - just in time to throw herself in a forward roll away from another Barracuda, the swing of his axe narrowly missing her tucked feet. Quick as lightning, she leaps upon the nearest mast and scales it, too rushed to thank the Navigator for blessing her with the advantage of nimbleness against so many strength-focused opponents. Something dense wizzes by her ear and clacks into the mast ilms above her grappling hands, and she shrieks, the sight of the still-vibrating tomahawk urging her to grab the nearest rope and throw herself into the open air. Down, she sways, teeth clenched against a fall she could not control - save for holding on for dear life.

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

Oh, he got the statement! Blasting away over half his HP right at the get go hurt, haha. Such a fun fight!

FLEET vs the Garleans

FLEET does an IC replaying of the MSQ, and today they were defending Castrum Oriens against the Garleans, so they needed Garleans.

G&G to the rescue! We have Garleans to spare!

I played a generic NPC Garlean, a reaper pilot.  Our initial forces snuck in to attack under the cover of the night’s darkness, and the reapers entered once the fighting had already started.

All through the town, fights were going on. It was so cool! So many little fights going on at once, then people would attack others around them. It felt like what a real battle of this kind must have felt like.

My first target, while the reaper was still able to fly, was Maelstrom private Honoura Hawke  ( @honhonoura ).  Here she is killing Garlean Albrecht Beringer.

Once the machine was shot out from under me, I had to fight on the ground.  My first target was the healer, Jophoix Suinuet (because you always take out the healer first in PVP~). But Charging Thunder ( @thungerstorm ), the big woman with the bigger axe, was having none of that.

My NPC tried to run, but she hit him from the back, and after that it was a quick (but painful) end for Mikkaus oen Sunthistleus.

A big thanks to everyone who came! 

[jancisstuff]

[drunkdungeoneers-ffxiv]

Auricle Acquisition

With ship construction under way the dungeoneers needed to focus on acquiring the power source of their world traversing vessel. In hopes of acquiring the auricle without incident or incurring the wrath of the Grand Companies, the dungeoneers set a meeting with the Grand Company Captains in control of auricle storage and utilization. L’alor would meet with the Captains at Maelstrom Command and discuss the use of an amount of auricle for research purposes.

The meeting itself did not go well, at all. L’alor and the Captains ended up in a pitched argument, culminating in one of the Captains denigrating L’eyline Talyn and L’alor starting a fight over the matter. While the dungeoneers outside of the meeting heard much of the argument via linkpearl, it did little to help them with the problem of auricle. A saving grace came in the form of Commander  Sylbfohc Ostulmsyn from the ninth levy’s first squadron, who through some banter with the dungeoneers had learned of their seeking a favor with the allied forces.

In a more private location, the squadron’s headquarters, Sylbfohc was able to speak more plainly with the dungeoneers. He revealed that the latest shipment of auricle had come in with a lighter weight than it had been recorded as leaving with. Officially the matter had been deemed a clerical error, but in reality the shipment had been the victim of theft by an Ala Mhigan resistance group. While the forces knew the group was operating out of Nyunkrepf’s Hope, they were hesitant to retaliate in order to avoid the optics of attacking only recently freed civilians. The indecision of the allied forces was the time to strike for the dungeoneers.

Moving quickly, the dungeoneers got themselves to Ala Ghiri, poising themselves to strike at the ancient ship. Arriving on deck the team found a bustling effort by many thread barren Ala Mhigans, preparations being made for something. At the front of the commotion was an island of peace, in the shape of an older man sitting in front of a crate emanating with aetheric energy.

Not wanting to begin a fight with the group that severely outnumbered them, the dungeoneers elected to instead fake a fight with themselves. As N’evadal and Charging Thunder began a faux battle, shouting loudly to draw as many eyes as possible, Constantine and C’ahis began slinking towards the crate and old man. Luckily the old man seemed unphased by the fight, focusing instead on his book. As Constantine and C’ahis reached the crate, Charging Thunder and N’evadal’s fight moved towards the old man as N’evadal rocketed into the old man after catching a swift blow from Charging Thunder.

The ruckus finally drew the old man’s attention, as N’evadal physically overtook his sitting space. The old man, Duncan as he identified himself, revealed he was deaf and also the leader of the organization. He heard nothing from the dungeoneers in their attempts to explain their purpose there, or disguise themselves as other resistance members. The hearing resistance soldiers began getting agitated and curious, drawing their own suspicions about the dungeoneers.

Constantine, thinking quickly, employed his theatrical abilities. With flailing motions and dramatic gestures, Constantine fell over the crate and screamed, faking his death upon contact with the dangerous substance. In reality he warped himself and the crate away, back to the Plundered Tavern. The rest of the dungeoneers, now left with a confused Duncan and increasingly angry resistance group, chose the time as proper to begin leaving quickly.

Over the edges of the ship and down to the ground safely as possible, the dungeoneers outpaced chasing arrows to reach the aetheryte and return to their headquarters. With the auricle secured, and L’alor found back in the tavern with minimal bruising, the first part of their plan had been completed. They now prepare for inserting the auricle into the ship structure.

_________________________________________

Special thanks to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for playing with us for the event!

[thegoddamnhawkman]

altaholic blog roll/lfrp/whatever post for stormblood

L’eyline Talyn

[ art by @lady-amaranthine​ ]

L’EYLINE TALYN - Former Lominsan Armada intelligence officer who retired to follow her bestie West’s dream of opening her own entertainment company. Bubbles and cheer abound. Co-head of hospitality and cofounder at @crescent-ffxiv. 

TUMBLR: @maelstromkit​

Rastirah Kacha

[ art by @bunnynuggetz​ ]

Mae’lin Kacha’s baby sister and adopted ‘twin’ of L’eyline Talyn. Ex-Yellowjacket turned Crescent janitor and proprietor of the tea shop and cafe at Twelve Oaks Library. Professional-grade tattoo collector and listener to loud music.

TUMBLR: @seacat-ffxiv​

Miranda O’hteco

[ art by @bubblesteaart​ ]

Recovering crime addict and con artist. Quick-tempered, though she’s finally seeking help for her anger management issues and starting to get her shit together enough to perform as a functioning member of society. Security guard and public relations worker at Crescent, in addition to studying Sharlayan astrology.

TUMBLR: @the-other-ohteco​

(alts under the read more)

L’kahlee Rahm

[ art by @rurukatt ]

Sharlayan chief medical officer of @drunkdungeoneers-ffxiv. 8 doctorates, no waiting. Fills her spare time verbally sparring with friends, ripping off Allagan-obsessed Garleans and moonlighting as a stage magician and DJ at casinos. Gives more of a shit than it seems at first glance.

TUMBLR: @sharlayan-viper 

Nolan Taggart

[ art by @karniz ]

Limsa Lominsan Yellowjacket turned bounty hunter. Freelancer for Ironhide Mercenary Company and the Maelstrom, among others. Carries a really big gun.

TUMBLR: @taggart-ffxiv​

Booster Dawnforge

[ art by @tinybirdfriend​ ]

Airship systems and design engineer at Talyn Industries in Limsa Lominsa, currently contracted to the Maelstrom’s 1st Squadron/9th Levy. He’d rather be surfing.

TUMBLR: @ceruleumcat 

Asami Fujiwara

Displaced Doman Liberation Front agent, now affiliated with the Rogue’s Guild and Ala Mhigan Resistance. Investor in Crescent, owns their tea shop. Favorite things include surfing, long walks on the beach and extensive stabbing of Garleans.

TUMBLR: @fujiwara-ffxiv

Maeve Hunter

[ art by @lillieath ]

Scion loyalist and former Crystal Brave. Corporal in the Maelstrom, serving @maelstrom-command as Commander Sylbfohc Ostulmsyn’s coffee fetch, paperwork savant, and aide. Indispensable in her own mind, if nothing else.

TUMBLR: @crystal-brave

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

"Wow, Tiergan! Ye could rival Titan in those boots, I reckon!"

@tiergan-vashir

I kinda want to add an inch or two of extra height to Tiergan, because the way I draw his proportions kinda make him feel like a taller dude. <_<;a  Maybe have him be 5′9 or 5′10 instead of 5′8.