#The Garlean Knight

[captainqster]

[nini-dirthara-lothlenanas]

𝔉𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔎𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰

[fatedroses]

Sneaky mysterious ARR-era Tsukiko.

[anarkhebringer]

Felis continues to feed bunny and lizard boy players with each release

[miqojak]

This, and the writing that comes after, remain favorites of mine. One of the few times Jak will gladly resort to violence... to cull Garleans.

Rise, Fall, and Rise Again

((It's not the WIP that's been sitting around since I started it in January...but an idea that keeps knocking around in my head. A dream came true for Jak, when Garlemald collapsed! ...and I think part of her wanted to see it for herself, while another part is happy to finish off loitering citizens and soldiers alike; what's good for the goose is good for the gander, no? She was a hunted refugee once, as well.))

It's quiet, here. Almost calming.

Pristine, even, if I keep my eyes ahead.

She insists I turn around, however, and bask in what we've done.

Blood always looks different, when spilled – depending on what it has stained, in the course of the deed – but in snow, there's something spectacularly...exquisite about the swathes and speckles of bright, crimson red against the stark, white contrast of snowy perfection. Red ink, stained parchment.

Behind me, blood and savagery – fear, and pain. Ahead of me...ruin. A broken nation. Collapsed buildings jutting from the snowy expanse like broken, bleached ribs jutting from the desert sand...I've never seen anything more beautiful, despite my hatred of all things cold – and the chill of Garlemald is the killing kind.

Broken roads upon which they drove their infernal machines split the sky's horizon in jarring, uncanny shapes - much like the corpses behind me... all wrong angles, now. Blackened buildings, slowly being buried in the snow like the corpses they are, loom ahead...and all is silence, save for the oddly satisfying crunch of snow beneath me.

The crunch of bones is more welcome.

I don't deny Her. Not this time. We are owed this, and a Jackal always collects.

I didn't tell him, either, but he'll know somehow anyways, no doubt. I doubt he'd try to convince me otherwise, but...considering that the exact people who took my family from me are – as far as my knowledge extends – already dead? I'm fine with taking my fury out on whatever Garleans do remain, regardless of their former or current aspirations. My people were little more than 'beasts' to them, after all...so why see them as any different?

We were molded by their philosophy, my Beast and I: the strong rule the weak. That was Garlemald's core belief, that their strength was their right...and to this day, no matter how much I despise them...I know that to be true, no matter where you're at, or from. And it is similarly no less true when they are the mewling weaklings begging for mercy, than it was when it was my family being crushed beneath their boots.

“Savage,” They still hiss with their dying breaths, and I know that what I do is justice.

The dead cannot claim it, and am I not their guardian?

Too weak once...but no longer.

May the entire existence of such a nation fade from the collective memory; may all Garleans be wiped from this star, never to know happiness, or family, or warmth, or safety – that is, after all, what they gave me.

Paranoia, pain, loneliness, detachment, and fear.

Hate. Fury. Disgust. Hunger. Chaos.

It's quiet here, though.

No amount of blood will bring back what I've lost.

Almost calming.

What they took.

Almost.

[voidsentprinces]

Reminder: A Realm Reborn wasn't particularly about us. It was about the Eorzean Factions, it was about the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and their interactions with and thwarting Gaius and the XIVth Legion. We were just a useful champion slowly growing to fame but not truly a Warrior of Light until literally the prelude to the Castrum raiding mission.

The Parting of Glass wasn't about us either. It was, once again, about the world. And how it had begun changing after Gaius's fall and the brief period of peace away from Garlemald's Shadow. About Alphinaud beginning his arc of growth with hubris and the creation the Crystal Braves and what it might of looked like IF the Scion's good nature was lent to anyone and everyone. And thus opening itself up to the very corruption Minfilia feared to move away from the Waking Sands and to the Rising Stones in the first place.

Heavensward isn't about us. It is about Alphinaud's continue growth, learning of Ishgard's past and history. Hubris, arrogance and narrow viewing lead Alphinaud to steps of the Foundation, it has lead Estinien astray and made Ysayle believe she is a messiah incarnate. And through the journey, each of them grow as they learn the terrible truth about the Dragonsong War. Estinien in particular has his eyes opened and no longer simply seeks revenge on Nidhogg but to get to the bottom of it all. So no other shepherd's son has to live as he has. Ysayle learns she is a shade and a faux Shiva not truly Hraesvelgr's beloved or even in the same category as her. She learns swallow such delusions and embrace what Saint Shiva stood for in its entirety. Which means leaning to lay the road for peace between Ishgard and the Dragons and opening a path to this by sacrificing herself for those she loved so dearly. Alphinaud learns from all of this and more and is humbled by the duty of a knight, the fervor of a dragoon, the sacrifice of a saint, and the courage of his companions and of Sharlayan's arrogance from Master Matoya. To put others before himself and allow others to support him when he falls.

The Far Edge of Fate isn't about us. It was about how Ishgard carries on after Thordan and the Heavens Ward are shown to be the monsters they are. How the remnants of the church, the knights of Ishgard, and the civilian population react to the realization with rejection. How facing off against Nidhogg possessing Estinien, the Warriors of Darkness, and the machinations of Ilberd force Eorzea and Ishgard to look inward and know truly where they should go from there. To ignore the easier road and take the higher path no matter the strife and hardship it provides them. Because when they reach the otherside they would be better for it. Finding that courage, after five years of procrastinating and hemming and hawing, the Eorzean Alliance finally begin to mobilize to free Ala Mhigo from Garlemald and perhaps take on the Empire itself.

Stormblood isn't about us. It is about Doma and Ala Mhigo fighting for the survival of their people and cultures. Facing the parts of their society that were spurned and used as tools of hatred against their principles. That provided the necessary cracks required for Garlemald to break them down and oppress them in the first place. And how reforging under those values and those long histories of violence can make a new path and come to terms to over throw the tyrants who fed on their weakened states and make a strong unity still.

A Requiem of Heroes wasn't about us, it was about the world facing down the barrel of war with Garlemald. And uncovering its origins, its founding father was an Ascian. How Varis is forced to face down the lie as Elidibus wears the skin of his son and the great grandfather he and other Garleans were taught was a walking god in all but name was a sham and a daemon bent on causing more pain and suffering than mankind ever deserved. How the effigies of hate and pain choose to use their fervor to help their people instead of turning against them once more. How every person can change and be given a second chance. How that second chance is what that person requires or if they are pushed the wrong direction, can caused tragedy to unfold. And lastly, it is about our companions, slowly. One by one. Being dragged to the unknown. The story slowly taking away the players on the stage until finally...

Shadowbringers was about us. It was about how we were instrumental to the world so much that it lost nearly all hope in another timeline. How a group of your fondest friends began and how your comrade's furthest decendents acting on the hope of your legend and stories. To provide a plan of action and lead to happier world. How even when everything seems lost and gone and your purpose seems to turned everything around you into twisted monstrosities. That you can bring the night and wait in comfort for a dawn to bring better days. And the tenacity of your aid providing a world on the brink, the love, the compassion, the understanding, the strength, and the will to stand up to a flood of destruction and spit fate in the eye. Even it costs them everything, they keep fighting until they can see a brighter tomorrow.

Death unto Dawn was about what the tomorrow brings. How it could be another fight but to find what is WORTH fighting for. The memories of those you fight and lived amongst, old studies and things of the past being made to provide the answer to the future, making right wrongs even against those you had wronged unfairly, and to gather together and keep each other safe. You are not alone out here. There are those who will help you along to a brighter future.

Endwalker was about you and yours. About how everyone reacts to an uncertain future in different manners. How some would make ready to flee at the approaching storm, while others would fight, and others might even push you further to the edge. But even when all is lost, call upon the memory of happier times to light the way with hearts aligned shining brilliantly against despair and finding your place amongst those memories.

Growing Light was about us teaching another to hear, feel, and think and experience the world seemingly gone. That everything needn't be give or take. It can be a charitable, warmer place if we make it. It can be kinder and even in the face of unrelenting and undying destruction. Hope will spit out a tooth and stand up once more.

I say all of this because, I've seen people mad that Dawntrail is leaning hard about being about Wuk Lamat and others. To which I say so what if Dawntrail is about Wuk Lamat and Koana? So what if its not about us? We've had four story lines about us. Now we must impart what we've learned to the future as they face similar and sometimes overwhelming odds. To stand tall against the onslaught and make their own choices, their own way to bring a smile to all they hold dear. How family needn't be blood related, they can just be a group who sit down at the table at the end of the day. And speak, laugh, cry, and love. Unto this trail to dawn we shall light way for the future of our world and everything this new dawn brings is worth it.

[viiioca]

[ day 11 - thirst ]

I ought to be flattered. Truly.

When I was younger, I recall getting a glance at Perette's personal ledger book; separate from the house's business dealings, this was where she tallied family matters specifically. Verain's prestigious boarding school, trips to the country estate, money set aside in trust for eventual grandchildren -- the sort of thing that might cause strife if too many eyes fell on it and felt the numbers were misapportioned. Indeed, I spied my dowry and thought for a moment I might require reading glasses. Such a princely sum! I was flattered then, too, for a brief moment. I must be valuable, no? I must be so valuable that Perette, with her iron grip on the House's accounts, would be willing to part with so much. Verain would have pitched a fit to see it.

Folly to believe it, of course. I grew older, and the dowry went unclaimed, and I came to realize that it was not a matter of value. It was a taunt. Perette did so enjoy breaking taboo; if there was an opportunity to spit in an eye that would not seem unladylike, she would seize it with tremendous satisfaction. Here, she has her prized lowborn orphan -- a mixed blood mongrel -- and in Ishgard, where station is so bound by blood that even the High Houses' hands are tied, there are none who would risk the ignominy of dirtying the pool, as it were. She was certainly not desperate to hand me off, nor was House Laussienne particularly hurting for alliances that a marriage could secure. She simply saw an opportunity to make a statement. She looked at all the waning lower houses, the ones in danger of losing their titles in a generation or two, and said to them: all your family's salvation will cost you is your pride. Any willing to rebel against precious tradition will find a bounty waiting for them, and you will not take it, because you are cowards.

There is some distant part of me that can appreciate a brazen gesture. In the art of the tactful insult, Perette was a rare talent.

Of course, it is only after I have given up on my home, left, and returned that I have found conditions have changed. How charming it is to have admirers -- with no financial incentive, at that! I spent so many years diligently molding myself into the definition of a perfectly proper lady, but it turns out that such efforts were wasted. All that was required of me to be seen as a worthy daughter of Ishgard in the end was to move heaven and earth. Simple! I shall go among my lowborn brothers and sisters and tell them this: all that is required of you are acts of such heroic magnitude that, were you a Temple Knight, they would struggle to find room to pin all the medals on your dress blues. Go kill a sum of dragons. Prise the Garleans out of their entrenched position in our ceruleum fields like a barber-surgeon pulls a rotten tooth. Kill a famed Legatus. And don't stop there while you have momentum. Kill the beastmen's gods while you're at it. Form the van during a historic attack on our own holy Steps of Faith. Done properly and you too shall be worthy of Ishgard's most well-connected bastards. You too will be allowed to take your meals at the high table -- this and no more.

I am being uncharitable to Haurchefant. I know this. He is a good man and it is not fair that I would spurn him for matters outside of his immediate control. But what was done to me -- what is done to those like me -- was not fair either, and the result is that no one will get what they want. If love were nourishment, we are all of us starvelings dying of hunger and thirst. We are all of us doomed to look for love in its negative spaces; to understand its shape not by where it is, but only by where it isn't.

[catwhoisawizard]

Hello gposers of Tumblr!

I would like to get to know you all better and get more involved in the FFXIV community here on tumblr! My particular blend of brain weirdnesses make it difficult to be consistent about making gposes myself, but I do it when I can. I haven't made any recently because I've been on a bit of a hiatus from the game for personal reasons, but I want to share some of my older shots as a start!

So without further ado, here's a short introduction to my current cast of characters! Please feel free to leave comments or send asks with questions about them!

Name: Zhera Anki

Age: 35 (as of DT)

Gender/Pronouns: Cis female, she/her

Orientation: Polyam Lesbian

Canon combat jobs: SCH/WHM/SMN

Canon non-combat jobs: BTN/CUL/ALC

Homeland: Limsa Lominsa (raised there), Ala Mhigo (born there)

Notes: Mixed race Keeper/Seeker. Her Keeper family is descended from survivors of Amdapor. Her Seeker father was a member of the Fist of Rhalgr. She is autistic and has utilized her hyperfixations and special interests to learn multiple difficult skills quickly. Buff.

Zhera is a former Storm Captain and veteran of the Primal Wars, the Garlean War, and the Final Days crisis. Now retired, she became an Archon (her specialty is aetherology and Allagan Summoning) and now spends her time raising her adopted child Hhemetso and working as a freelance botanist. She is close friends with her worldline's WoL, but played a secondary role in most of the events of the MSQ.

Name: Retha Othan

Age: 84

Gender/Pronouns: Trans female, she/her

Orientation: Polyam Pansexual

Canon combat jobs: RDM/SGE/WAR

Canon non-combat jobs: ALC

Homeland: Tenth Shard

Notes: Was AMAB, but learned alchemy and transitioned by using transformative potions similar to Fantasias that she made herself, and continued to make them to help others transition. Was an Archmage of the Red in her prime, but an injury caused her to lose the ability to use magic, and she didn't get it back until getting her new body in the Source. Was happily married to a man named Tavel and had multiple children and many grandchildren.

Retha is Zhera's reflection from the Tenth Shard. She was her world's primary WoL and saved it several times over, but living a hard life eventually caught up to her in her old age, leaving her frail and unable to help when the Ascians made their final move to Rejoin her Shard. She escaped by volunteering for a desperate last minute plan to use experimental magic to send someone's soul to another Shard in the hopes of bringing back help. The transfer succeeded and she found herself sharing a body with Zhera, her counterpart in the Source, only to learn that she was too late: due to unexpected temporal weirdness in the Rift, she had arrived 1500 years after her Shard was already gone. She has since gained her own body and is now building a new life in her new home.

Name: Kjet Anki

Age: 143

Gender/Pronouns: Non-binary, he/him

Orientation: Asexual

Canon combat jobs: WHM/BLM/MNK

Canon non-combat jobs: BTN

Homeland: Hingashi/Gridania

Notes: He is a Viqo'te, as his other mother was a Viera. He is the reincarnation of Deudalaphon and was forced to take on his predecessor's memories against his will; he developed his time travel spell by adapting techniques used in one of her abandoned experiments. He briefly tried to learn the Dark Knight arts, and his Ascian memories took form and consciousness as his Fray before he accepted them; she is now his headmate, calling herself Hephaestia, the name of the previous Deudalaphon prior to taking the Seat.

Kjet is Zhera's son from a separate timeline than her. In his timeline, Zhera lost the war with her depression when he was about 20 and she gave in to despair. In an act of desperation to fix the world, she summoned a perfected primal using her own soul as it's core. The resultant entity was a fusion of her at her lowest and Ifrit at his strongest, calling itself Zhera Ifrita. Following her mandate to "end war by any means necessary", she started a campaign of political manipulation via tempered thralls and eventually outright conquest to unite the entire world under one state, with herself as something akin to a god-queen preventing war via tempering and draconian social policies. While extremely talented with both White and Black magic, Kjet is ill-suited for violence, and was forced to spend over a century in hiding as he watched the world around him succumb to the monster wearing his mother's identity. Finally, in an act of desperation, he managed to develop a primitive time travel spell and used it to travel back to before Zhera lost her hope, but unintentionally made a split timeline in doing so (the method he used does that to prevent a paradox). He has since started building a new life in this timeline, but the threat from his home timeline is not gone...

[rainofaugustsith]

These lines right here sum up why I feel FFXIV has much more superior, nuanced writing than the Star Wars franchise.

Star Wars has you believe that one side is right regardless of what they do, and the other side is so evil, rotten to the core in every way that their entire people, planets. culture, language, religion - everything - should be permanently erased if they can't be converted to an entirely different culture, language, and creed (And don't get me started on how they conveniently made the Sith alphabet - again considered terrabad - virtually identical to the Hebrew alphabet). It's a very black and white, dogmatic view that IMHO hearkens back to the evangelical belief that only one point of view gets to go to heaven, and if you don't believe that, resist converting and want to hang onto your identity, you're going to hell. And you're certainly going to hell if you point out anything questionable the other side has done.

What you discover in FFXIV is nuance.

Every single job can be used for good; every single job can be used for evil. The heroes of one story are the villains of another. Every heroic gesture comes with a very real price. Nobody is beyond reproach, and that includes the player character. Actions one person takes for the greater good can lead to devastating damage for others.

The "get back to nature" white mages rule a city-state where xenophobia rules the day and the elementals run a reign of terror. White magic executed without proper training can be fatal.

The black mages who congregate in a hall for the gods of the dead have an alliance among the marginalized tribes that spans all three city-states and saves Eorzea from calamity. Black magic executed without proper training can be fatal.

The Dark Knights dedicate themselves to protecting those who need their help, and teach that one's dark side isn't something to vanquish, but something to hear, acknowledge and make peace with.

The Dragoon story shows that one's archenemy can become one's ally - or consume them.

The fearsome reapers who treat with the dead are actually helping the downtrodden.

The community working hard to keep the peace and move forward in a productive way are ex-pirates.

And so on. Nobody is expected to forgive those who have wronged them. Atonement is seen as something that involves work on the part of the perpetrator, not the participation of the survivors. But atonement is there and in several cases characters do better.

Any thoughts that any group in Eorzea needs to be eliminated are eventually dispelled completely. Marginalization of various groups is something that eventually does need to be answered for, and is presented as a problem, not a necessity. When Eorzea finally marches on their nemesis, the Garlean Empire, it is on an aid mission, not conquest. There are no attempts to convert. Just to help.

Both Garlemald in Endwalker and Ziost in SWTOR deal with the issue of murderous possessed people. In SWTOR, the Republic - remember, our "good guys" - response with Saresh is to send an invading army to increase the hurt. In FFXIV, the Alliance's response is to send an army to help, with Scions striking out into the snow and into the smoldering ruins to rescue anyone they can.

If you asked me if I would live anywhere in a Star Wars universe, it would be an emphatic HELL NO. But FFXIV? I feel like they are at least striving for better, with common ground and peaceful co-existence, and everything is nuanced.

[hazelkjt]

OC Introductory Post

Hello, and thank you for stopping by my blog! I'm Hazel and this is my main character for everything FFXIV related, from raiding to rp'ing. My pronouns are he/him, I'm an early 20's college student still trying to figure out what to do with my life, but I'm getting there!

I had mentioned this before but I'll reiterate it here: this blog was originally just for my main FFXIV OC, Hazel Kha, but because trying to manage multiple blogs was pushing me away from doing anything with these character I'm consolidating this one to have all of my OCs on it rather than just one. Those old blogs will remain up to keep the content from disappearing but I will not be utilizing them anymore. I'm sorry if you followed me here exclusively for the Hazel stuff, she will still be the main focus of most of my posts here but there will be others posted up here and there.

I'm situated on Zalera (Crystal) and spend most of my time either raiding or taking GPose shots, but regardless I look forward to seeing everyone's creativity here on the Tumbles.

Anyways, onto the intro bits to them all below the Read More

Hazel Kha

Age: 24

Race: Xaela Au Ra

Height: 6'4"/193cm

Nameday: 25th Sun of the First Umbral Moon (February 22nd)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Bisexual

A young hunter and warrior of the Kha tribe, Hazel is a proud daughter of the Azim Steppe who has always longed to see more, to do more. Through her mother's collection of foreign books and literature she came to daydream and wonder of the lands beyond the Steppe. Her desire for adventure high a fever pitch when coming into possession of a wandering samurai's soul crystal, and all the memories and knowledge it contained. She would hold on to the stone dearly for years, until one fateful day she had a chance encounter of a lifetime and through it found her way across the waters to Eorzea. After arriving she found herself under the employment of the Sharlayan scholar Nolanel Corbeaux, working as both research assistant and hired hand to help defend against threats. Not long after Hazel finds herself under the tutelage of Lia Amelune of Ishgard, retired Dragoon and head of her own noble house. Extremely curious and adventurous by nature, Hazel's love of the unknown is matched only by her competitiveness. Idealistic and prideful, Hazel takes to each new day with excitement and wonder in her eye.

Claire Ashe (Claire Bas Syndris)

Age: 29

Race: Garlean

Height: 6'2"/188cm

Nameday: 17th Sun of the Third Astral Moon (May 17th)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Lesbian

A pureblooded Garlean who spent most of her childhood and teenage years living in Ala Mhigo under Garlean occupation. She grew up befriending many of the Ala Mhigan children there without her parents knowing. After her two closest friends were beaten to death in the streets, Claire revoked her family name and fled the city, no longer disillusioned by the Garlean propaganda she was fed her entire life. She traveled to Ul'dah and came into contact with the Lemures, where she was then trained by Drusilla as a Reaper. With her training and pact with the Voidsent Sidian, Claire aided in the revolution to liberate Ala Mhigo from Garlean control. She now works aboard the merchant ship The Enduring Deeds as a deckhand and the ship's main cook. She wears a bandana at all times to hide her third eye, paranoid over the general consensus most people have of Garleans. She puts up a cold and harsh exterior, which as of this point might not be as much of an act anymore, but underneath is a truly kind soul afraid of being hurt and hurting others just from existing.

Derrinall Evramont

Age: 33 (physically)

Race: Duskwight Elezen (also Ashkin/Undead)

Height: 6'7"/200.6cm

Nameday: 9th Sun of the First Astral Moon (January 9th)

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Pansexual

Derrinall Evramont originally lived during the final years of Gelmorra. His family were that of knights, dedicated to serving the people, though unfortunately his life was not lost in service of this oath. Sickness claimed him a few years before the total fall of Gelmorra, his soul adrift yet still holding strong to his memory and sense of self for centuries...that is, until he was brought back to the star for reasons he did not know. When he awoke again he wandered the ruins of the crypt he was buried in, eventually stumbling upon two he would learn to be kindred spirits, in a way. The two strangers helped him to recover even as he kept his personal information close to his chest, eventually pointing him to work and housing in Ishgard. He found work under Lia Amelune, both as house servant and a member of the House's ranks of knights. Derrinall's previous experience as a knight of Gelmorra saw him quickly rise through the ranks to become Captain, a title he holds with pride and only the occasional harassment of the Lady he serves.

E'venna Zekiel

Age: 22

Race: Seeker of the Sun Miqo'te

Height: 5'4"/162cm

Nameday: 3rd Sun of the Sixth Astral Moon (November 3rd)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Straight

E'venna Zekiel is the eldest daughter of five children. After her father was tempered by Ifrit and subsequently killed, she took it upon herself to help her mother care for her younger siblings, specifically her triplet younger sisters. It wasn't an easy road to get where she and her family are now, especially in a place such as Ul'dah. E'venna began her "career" in back alley fights, as she had always been scrappy in a brawl. After getting into an impromptu fight outside the Pugilist's Guild she was offered membership, and upon joining took it upon herself to partake in Coliseum matches. The shine of her golden hair is matched only by her bright smile and optimistic personality. Combined with her unorthodox and playful fighting style in matches and soon E'venna had earned her the nickname "The Dancing Coeurl" from dedicated fans of her's. Her tournament winnings are a major boon to the family, with it they are able to put the three youngest through a formal education. Her family members almost all strongly disapprove of E'venna's line of work she can't imagine herself doing anything but. She's found her place, and that's in the ring.

Exploding Goldfish

Age: 36

Race: Hellsguard Roegadyn

Height: 7'2"/218cm

Nameday: 30th Sun of the Third Umbral Moon (June 28th)

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: AroAce

Exploding Goldfish, simply known as "Fish" by most everyone, was born to a family of miners in Uldah. Throughout his life he was surrounded by heavy machinery, sparking a lifelong love of machines and inventing. His youth was spent learning everything he could about technology. His studies eventually paid off and he scored the job of his dreams working as part of Garlond Ironworks...for a while. An accident during a project cost Fish partial vision in his left eye and his position in the company. Scarred and humiliated, he drifted for months before finally finding secure work and pay at Wolves' Den Pier. Fish spent his time maintaining the machines used in "Rival Wings" competitions, and when he wasn't working on repairs he was drowning his self-pity in alcohol. It wasn't all for nothing, however. While at Wolves' Den, Fish chanced upon meeting a scrawny Viera living under the pier; Qara Wen. It took some coaxing but eventually Fish was able to befriend him, and over time that friendship evolved into brotherhood. And so when Fish was recruited to join the merchant ship The Enduring Deeds, his one request was that Qara be welcomed aboard as well.

Perseverance "Percy" Kha

Age: 9

Race: Midlander Hyur

Height: 4'0"/122cm

Nameday: 3rd Sun of the Second Astral Moon (March 3rd)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

A certain time, and a certain place...where a certain young spark was chosen to light the way. It is in this reality that a young girl lost everything. Her family was killed, and even her memory of them were taken from her. She was rescued from the same fate as her mother and father by the Warrior of Light, Hazel Kha. With no one else left alive to raise the child Hazel became Percy's guardian, and slowly accepted her place as the child's new mother figure. Hazel has been slowly acclimating the young girl to her new life, hoping to be able to deliver the childhood she deserves. Perseverance has grown to love reading, a pastime brought about by Hazel's own love of literature. Thanks to her favorite genre being heroic fantasy and also viewing her new mother as a larger than life hero, Percy has become fascinated with the idea of being a hero herself once she grows older. She is soft spoken, quiet, and quite blunt when she does speak, but Percy does have a good heart. What the future holds for her only time will tell, but thanks to the love of her new family, Perseverance's future is shining bright.

Lanwa Carmine

Age: 19

Race: Hhetsarro Miqo’te

Height: 5'0"/152.5cm

Nameday: 2nd Sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon (December 2nd)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Polyamorous Pansexual

Growing up in the lap of luxury, Lanwa had always just wanted excitement in her life. Her childhood was one of privilege and excess, but it wasn’t ever enough to satisfy her. Quite the rebellious child growing up, Lanwa joined a street gang when she was 15. There she caused a commotion for the people around, but it wasn’t quite what she felt she wanted in life. Eventually this led to her leaving the gang and taking a chance as an Air-Wheeler Racer, joining the pro circuit at only 17 summers old. Lanwa quickly became a top contender in the races, earning the nickname “The Crimson Chaser” thanks to her red bike and racing suit. Prideful, competitive, and narcissistic, Lanwa relishes in her newfound fame and fans, alongside the thrill the life-threatening races provide her. But even after finding where she wished to go in her life, there remains a slight sense of something still missing in her life…something she can’t quite explain…

[zwierzodudle]

thinking about how lucia was supposed to spy on ishgard only to become aymeric's most loyal knight. we never really hear about any other garlean spies so it's very funny to imagine that she was the last straw and they never bothered sending another one.

anyway here's my candidates for Potential Previous Failed Garlemald Spies In Ishgard:

first one was eaten by a dragon. it's ishgard, it happens

several who joined the ironworks and stayed because the union is better and they do little to no human experimentation

DRK wol killed one while mowing down inquisitors and doesn't even remember it as something particularly important. it's ishgard, it happens

one became a priest as a cover then found halone for real

another got wildly into the local figure skating competition, became their best coach in years and stayed forever

^years later they will get ishgard gold in the Etheirys Olympics because they're still salty about being made to join the garlemald military instead of following their skating dreams

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

Day 22: Threshold [FREE DAY]

a moment for aureia and aymeric on the threshold of change. aymeric x wol. stormblood spoilers. written for ffxivwrite2024. rated: mature 1273 words ao3 link

Aymeric sighs and sinks into the bath, idly watching the steam as it rises and curls towards the rafters.

It may not be the same as the pleasantness of a hot springs bath, but it is most welcome all the same. His body aches, his muscles stretched and worn. It is a concerning fact of his life how easy it is to strain himself not just from combat, but from a hard day’s ride. Some aides younger than he would find it easy to pin it on his age, but mid-thirties is not old, especially for an Elezen. This is the consequence of countless hours spent at a desk, in meetings, and otherwise remaining stationary.

Guilt twists in the pit of his stomach. He has not been lax, with his life or his duties. Aureia would say he has never once been lax in all the years she has known him, and could benefit from “going rogue”. He has kept regular training, though not as intensive a regimen as many knights can afford. He simply does not have the time. And yet he can and will grace the battlefield, when it is required of him.

He has not once put down his sword. He is both soldier and politician. The latter he is secure in, but the former…? Fighting Garleans is a different beast than fighting dragons. His skill feels eroded. Weathered. Not what it once was.

And it is certainly nothing compared to the tempest that storms the battlefield at his side.

He groans and shifts his position, water sloshing about him as he digs his fingers into the tense muscles of his calf. The bath is a wide rectangle pool sunk into the floor, surrounded by rich red and gold tile. A little ledge runs around the edge for bathers to sit on, carved from the same stone that was used to build Porta Praetoria. A brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its glow hazy in the steam. A few climbing plants stand scattered about the room, vines and leaves spilling over the lip of their pots and dragging on the floor. It must have been some time since anyone thought to care for them.

The Ala Mhigan resistance spared no expense finding the Alliance leaders the best rooms to be found in Porta Praetoria. He almost resisted, insisting that he can sleep in the tents the same as his troops, but—as always—his thoughts went to Aureia. She would not join him, if that was the case, for the sake of her own privacy. And so, a week out from their planned attack on Ala Mhigo, they have found themselves lodged in a room nicer than most Ala Mhigans could ever afford, enjoying amenities most of their soldiers will never have access to.

Who was this chamber’s last occupant, he wonders? A wealthy merchant? A Garlean spy? A distant scion of the Mad King? Perhaps Prince Zenos himself stayed in these rooms, though he cannot imagine it. Garleans think little of the people they conquer, their so-called “savages”. Why would he take refuge in Porta Praetoria when he has a whole palace available to him in Ala Mhigo?

Aymeric sinks deeper into the bath, allowing his legs to float up in the water. Ala Mhigo. It is impossible to block out now, even here in the safety of this room. The far wall faces east and the windows are shutterless, the remains of their wood still clinging to the window frame. Ala Mhigo looms on the horizon, beyond the sea of tents, beyond the dark waters of Loch Seld, its palatial silhouette glowing orange and red with the light of Garlean magitek.

A knock on the door. “Aymeric?”

Aureia. Her voice cuts through the din of his thoughts, and relief washes over him.

“I’m in here,” he calls.

The door creaks open and she slips inside. He raises his head and his shoulders sag with disappointment—she is still dressed in armour, her hair tied back in a tight bun, her weapon strapped to her back. The staff glitters, sharp and lethal, a blue-green focusing crystal interwoven with its deadly blade. A custom design, forged by Cid Garlond from salvaged Allagan tech and crafted to be used interchangeably as a black mage’s armament and a dragoon’s lance. It is impossible to know if she is coming or going.

“Heading out?” he asks gently, careful not to let his disappointment show.  

She shakes her head and moves further into the room, favouring one leg. Is she injured? “Returning,” she replies. “One hells of a scouting mission. Thancred…” She closes her eyes and sighs. “Never mind.”

He pushes himself up. “Are you hurt, Aureia?”

“No.” She crosses her arms, one hand gingerly brushing her side. “I’m going to bed. I wanted to see you before I did. Say goodnight.” Her eyes flick across the room, distracted by the sight through the window. “If I can even sleep with that fucking thing out there.”

“The city may be a reminder of what’s to come, yes,” he replies. “But perhaps we should think of what our deeds will achieve once it is liberated, rather than what it is now.”

“I’m not talking about the city.”

The water’s gentle lap at odds with the fierceness of her voice. She speaks of Zenos—there is no one else she could mean. No one else who raises her ire. No one else who threatens to overtake her mind. He does not know why the crown prince figures so largely in her life. He is a Garlean legatus—a powerful one, of course, but she has laid low powerful legatuses before. The streak of vengeance in her voice gives him pause. It is too powerful, too twisted to simply be anger directed at the general who defeated her at Rhalgr’s Reach.

And a shade too close to the venom with which Estinien once spoke of Nidhogg.

Aymeric meets her eyes. She stares at him, her gaze sweeping over his body but seeing none of his nakedness. Any desire she may have for him has been pushed aside, locked away. With anyone else he could imagine this moment turning into a charming evening, a last romantic encounter between two lovers on the threshold of change. And perhaps it still could be.

“It’s a quiet night,” he says softly. “Why don’t you undress first? Come speak with me for a while. We may not have many chances left.”

Her jaw clenches. “I don’t feel like talking.”

“Then sit with me, then.”

She stares at him, eyes narrowed. With her hair drawn back so severely and her pointed ears on display, she is all angles—sharp and keen and stinging. If he could go to her, he would—to hold her, kiss her, tell her that it will be all right. But he dare not now. Not if she does not want him to.

“I don’t feel like that either,” she says at last, her voice low and ragged, as if she is on the verge of tears. “I just wanted to see you.”

“Aureia—”

“Good night.”

His heart pangs. He rises from the bath, water rushing off him, but it is too late. She slips back through the door, taking care to close it without a sound. A gesture, one of her many perplexing voiceless ways of communicating.

A way to say “I’m sorry, I’m not angry with you.”

A way to say, “I’m sorry, this is not your fault.”

A way to say, “I’m sorry I’m not enough.”

He would have preferred if she had slammed it.

[nini-dirthara-lothlenanas]

                                                  𝔉𝔬𝔯 ℌ𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔢

Happy Patch 6.3 Day

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

another way to die [intro] (dawntrail)

"...So to summarize." Aymeric said. "Azdaja sent out a Call to summon her brood--some of whom were living in Dravania, with two of them partnered with the Knights-Dragoon, and they flew off to obey her command. Nothing was heard from them for almost two months, when suddenly they returned, telling a story of Vrtra and Azdaja coordinating a counter-attack against unidentified airships that were not only threatening Tuliyollal, but several major Turali cities. Ones that do not look Garlean, nor resemble anything Sharlayan might have put together in their secret underground laboratory."

"Yes." Brucemont replied. Honestly, it was all he could say.

"And further adding to the mystery, they described a large dome of electrical energy covering at least one-third of Tural's northern continent, and that nobody had heard from Riven, Reinhardt, Augustine, Mathye, and Sebastian." Aymeric continued. "Then they show back up--but by this point Azdaja, Vrtra and respective brood members--save for one or two--have returned to Eorzea, are gossiping like Limsan fishwives and Ishgardian mothers combined, and nobody knows what to believe until..." Brucemont watched as Aymeric reached a hand out to his desk and lifted two broken-sealed envelopes.

"Messages from Sharlayan and Limsa, reporting that their merchant ships had to conduct business under said mysterious airships, and by the time they came back to our side of the world and went back again, the airships in question were gone and the Turali are refusing to explain more at this current moment in time."

"And that somehow, Riven, Reinhardt, Augustine, Mathye, and Sebastian are in the thick of it." Brucemont finished. "That's...the gist of it, Lord Commander." He watched as Aymeric flopped back against his chair, sighing gustily.

"Normally I'd leave this be, as we can't do anything, but the fact that Limsa and Sharlayan are on the alarm--especially Sharlayan--means questions need to be asked. And then there's what you told me." Aymeric's gaze met Brucemont's own.

"Vedrfolnir being sent a request by Vrtra to send blood and scales for Reinhardt." Brucemont nodded.

"He's...worried." And quite frankly, so was Brucemont. "The last set of letters weren't what you would call forthcoming with information." Not even Sebastian's own had held any clues--in fact it'd been short. Too short for Brucemont's liking. Aymeric crossed his arms, closing his eyes in thought.

"Sharlayan is sending envoys to Raz-at-Han for answers. Merlwyb is...somewhat content for the moment to leave things lie and see what comes up." He began, opening his eyes. "I suppose we could reach out to our own ambassador there, but I imagine they're in the dark like the rest of us. Which leaves..."

"My idea." Brucemont finished. "I'm being forced to take a vacation anyway. I can go to Tuliyollal with Reinhardt's supplies, hopefully find him, and get some answers."

"And the Order will be fine?"

"Winter boot camp's underway, and we've got a steady rotation going with the patrol strings. If absolutely needed I can teleport back here--but the distance would have me incapacitated for a day or so."

<Would rather we really don't.> Bastion commented. Aymeric considered the First Lance, then nodded.

"How soon can you leave?" He blinked in surprise as Brucemont reached into his chestplate, holding up a small pasteboard ticket.

"I have the last airship out tonight, and the Limsan merchant leaves tomorrow." Brucemont resisted the sudden urge to squirm as the Lord High Commander pinned him with a glare--alright, perhaps he hadn't needed to know that Brucemont had been planning on going to Tural on his own if Aymeric had said no. Thankfully, Aymeric seemed inclined to let it drop. However, his next statement took the dragoon by surprise.

"Watch out for the Sharlayans."

"Excuse me?" Brucemont blinked in surprise.

"Watch out for the Sharlayans." Aymeric repeated. Memories of what Riven had told him about Astrid flashed through his mind.

"I imagine there are quite a few members of the Forum who aren't pleased that their city-state is now sharing the skies with another nation with powerful airships." It would be another year until the Garleans could start rebuilding their own airship fleet, Lucia had informed him in her last report from Ilsabard. Possibly longer, now that they weren't conscripting workers from the territories they'd seized. The black-armored dragoon considered this, then nodded.

"I'll be on my way then."

"Contact me by pearl once you've arrived." Aymeric ordered. Brucemont nodded again, saluting. Turning on a heel, he left Aymeric's office and headed out into the Congregation proper.

-----

(and while I was writing this, walnuttery from the chat...)

[pillowfriendly]

hate and future for miss kethry :3

hate: i joke that kethry is a sovereign citizen cause she does NOT care for the concept of laws and hates the people that enforce them. she believes in choosing your own code of behavior and sticking to it, and totally rejects the concept that anyone else (or a governing body) can force theirs upon you. lucky for everyone, the behavior model she believes in for herself is mostly prosocial, if vigilante-esque

this hatred comes from her childhood in the shroud, where the only contact her family (a "poaching" clan) had with gridania was through the serpents coming in to violently dispute the keepers' way of life, on the basis of laws they had no say in from a city-state they weren't welcome in. this gets compounded further in ishgard where she encounters temple knights and all the injustices they visit on the people of the brume. throw in some drk-quest related insanity at the time, aaand oop shes dumping knight bodies off the sides of cliffs in the night

future: the worst future for kethry is the "weapon of light" one. despite her general suspicion of government, she's susceptible to requests for help from basically anyone. so the plea for her to fight on their behalf, that if she does it will save everyone else who would die if she wasn't there, is impossible for her to ignore.

she got closest to this right before shadowbringers, where (in my longer timeline) she was at the frontline against the garleans for months while slowly losing her support network-everyone who kept her from becoming eorzea's best attack dog. cat. whatever. this furthers my agenda of her starting the shb story as unhinged as possible