#garlean dragon

[thetinyscald-blog]

Drew some portraits for our little FFXIV dnd group ~

[catboxghost]

every quest npc in stormblood is the most emotionally pliant person in the world but honestly, if i lived under a fascist empire for my entire life and one day a little elf twink showed up flanked by no fewer than three really hot really dangerous-looking women and started talking to me about joining his resistance while his companions started stacking bodies, i would join up on the spot

[impossible-rat-babies]

ohhhhh I think the endwalker healer role quests are gonna be my fave

[redsoultrait]

Okay. Okay okay okay. Can I bitch about one tiny thing here? One itsy bitsy little thing?

ARCANIMA ISN'T CREATION MAGIC.

The whole impressive THING about creation magic is that the result of the spell, the matter that has been shaped and warped by the caster, is not dependent on the mage's aether to continue to exist! They aren't dependent on anything! It's just THERE and EXISTS and is as real as its creator! And that is a FUCKING IMPOSSIBILITY for sundered humans! You kill an arcanist? Bye bye carby! Knock out a summoner? Good chance their egi will dissipate! The only reason Tataru's carbuncle is still kicking it is because she doesn't cast anything! The extra drain on her aether isn't that big a deal with her lifestyle!

"Oooooh, but the lopporits said that primals--" yeah, and those fuckers suck the earth dry to keep existing, in case you forgot!! Zodiark was going to need a CONSTANT stream of sacrifices to keep existing long-term! Even Hydaelyn got external sustenance from the faith of those whose Echo was awoken! No issue of that with the Matanga or Lupin, huh?

(Oh yeah, the ancients are responsible for all* the other spoken races as well, not just the lesser fauna and flora. Just a little reminder that those were the initial candidates for Zodiark fodder. Just a thought!!!!!!)

Seriously though, don't undercut how crazy creation magic is. The ancients didn't have to keep holding reality in place to execute their will. It would just *listen*.

arcanists: we wield the most complex form of magic... arcanima. one must master arcane geometry to weave patterns that respect the flow of aether, which in turn will create powerful creature that can help you in combat. this is very dangerous and very powerful, it's not for the weak of mind

also arcanists: anyway we use that power to inspect ship crates lmao

[charulein]

Ngl I'm actually enjoying Endwalker??? I forgot that ffxiv could be funny?????

Also Ameliance are you free after dinner

[tovaicas]

congratulations zenos! you just drew half of dravania's ire!! good luck!!

[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.

[miqojak]

Ever notice what his armor is themed like, when you do main story roulette?

Yeah. He dressed up like the dragon that Garlond Sr. was obsessed with.

also i know people ship cid and nero and while i respect it, i must disagree-- i have never seen anyone in my life who gives stronger pissboy little brother energy than nero. this man is voiced by cam clarke liquid snake in my mind. he shows up in every raid series and everyone is like ughHHHHH and cid is like okay guys i know but like mom said i have to bring him along with us so just be cool alright and nero's throwing a fit going NO I'M EVEN BETTER THAN HIM YOU SHOULD ALL BE MY FRIENDS INSTEAD

[whitherwanderer]

"Well, at least there ain't a dead dragon wrapped 'round a Garlean wreck, an Allagan tower, an' a defunct castrum all in spittin' distance this time."

[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.

[unionizedwizard]

Zenos the garlean lays eggs! During the Shinryu fight in Stormblood he spawns a bunch of meteor markers that drop eggs that turn into small mini dragons you need to fight!

YAAAAAAAAY

LAY EGGS:

zenos the rooster: ❌

zenos: ✅

[jeredu]

Time for some FFXIV x Tales of the Abyss

Honestly, just go scroll through my media tab on twitter because there are so many.... SO many doodles and lore bits at this point.

Anyway Cato Nocivus. All-knowing bringer-of-harm. Jade wakes up sometime after the end of the world in an unfamiliar child's body, in an unfamiliar land.

Coerthas, before the calamity.

Rather, a child wakes up one day with a lot of memories he didn't have before. Most of them belong to a man named "Jade," and some of them belong to a younger man named "Ascella."

Jade wins out, Jade has several decades more life experience than the rest of them combined. He chooses a new name, leaning into his half-Garlean heritage with bitter irony. He can't use magic. Or, he can't use magic yet. Thankfully, this child has befriended an outcast dragonet. The two of them eventually leave Coerthas in search of answers (and Cato begins to micro dose on dragon blood in an attempt to circumvent this particular aetheric handicap).

He has yet to find a single other person who remembers a place called "Auldrant."

(Things happen, plots unfold, he ends up back in Coerthas and finds a frozen hellscape. The eastern highlands are gone. He finds a body in a dark alley and picks up a sword nearly as long as his spear. He pulls Haurchefant away from danger, but not quickly enough to save his arm.)

He ends a war.

He travels to another world.

He takes in FAR too much light for his soul to contain.

(more art and spoilers for endwalker beneath the readmore)

Cato: I suppose it is appropriate… I chose this name with eyes fixed upon the past, and so created a self fulfilling prophecy.

Y'shtola [thoughtful]: Nocivus. Injurious.

Urianger [firm, scoffing]: Thou bringst 'harm' as the root breaketh barren earth.

He joins with yet another fragment of himself.

He learns the truth about Lorelei)

He sees the end of the world again, through the lens of the past. A different end, swifter and violent, barely averted.

He is thrust out of his body. He leaps into the lifestream to wrest it back, and in so doing meets its keeper again. Hades. Hades chooses to escort him, lest the final hope for this world die with him.

He is tasked with slaying the most ancient god. He fears that doing so will bring destruction, but letting it live certainly WILL.

He travels to the past. He confronts a truth he has held within himself.

He is not the right person for saving this world.

But he is the one who is here.

(did Azem know? Did Themis? )

[coldshrugs]

hi Azia! since I'll probably never play FFXIV but want to gobble up everything you've ever written or will write for Io and Estinien, I was wondering if you could kind of summarize or describe the context for their relationship in the canon universe. what do I need to understand about their history in order to better appreciate the way they fit? how do they meet and what brings them together? are there some universal truths for each WoL that heavily contribute to who Io is (kind of like how Hawke in DA2 loses half their family, or every Shepard in Mass Effect is deadish for two years)?

no pressure to answer if you don't have the time/energy or just plain don't want to! ok thanks love you bye 💙

🧍

Hi Ells. I am so sorry....

Understanding Estinio

General World Lore: The story of XIV begins five years after a Calamity (an event of large-scale devastation that leaves the land and people struggling to recover). This is the seventh Calamity over a period of 13,000 years. Other notable world happenings are:

the Dragonsong War: a war between man and dragon that has raged in and around Ishgard for one thousand years

the more recent advancement of the Garlean Empire: Garlemald is a technologically advanced nation seeking to "unite" the world under its rule

Warrior of Light Things: The player character is almost a completely blank slate. Their appearance and combat proclivities are entirely up to the player! Their backstory is not really mentioned, and the only thing we know about them from the start is that they're an Adventurer, which in this setting is someone who wanders here and there, helping with whatever odd jobs they can in hopes of earning a living and maybe some local fame too. A little network of unionized Hometown Heroes. But some things hold true for most WoLs (headcanons notwithstanding):

They have a gift called The Echo. A few other characters have the gift, but it can manifest differently from person to person. The WoL's Echo allows them to visit scenes from the past, sometimes through the eyes of another and sometimes as a kind of bodiless spectator, usually triggered by high emotion from a person or place. It also has a few other functions.

They join the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, an organization that's a bit of an open secret, determined to stop Primal summoning (Primals are replications of gods, the will of a people made manifest, and they are powerful and destructive. If most people venture too close, they become enthralled). Recruited for their prowess in combat (or healing, maybe, if you're not Io) and apparent inability to be tempered by Primals, they, of course, become the team's most powerful asset.

Io Laithe is my WoL, a viera born in the Garlean-occupied region of Dalmasca. When she was 19/20, her home village suffered a violent raid, and her family was lost. She managed to escape and flee far to the west. At the beginning, she's around 29 and an accomplished archer, among other things. Io endures more loss over her story, friends and lovers, and she blames herself over and over. She struggles to lay down her grief and represses her anger for so long that she almost loses herself to it at one point, but she claws her way back with the help of her friends. She's soft-spoken, and reserved, but is also deeply kind and surprisingly funny. (This paragraph is short but I feel like I talk about her so much lmao. Trying not to gush too hard)

Estinien Varlineau was born to a family of sheepherders, in a small farming community outside Ishgard. When he was 12, his village was razed to the ground in a dragon attack. He found the charred remains of his parents outside his home (his dad had tried to shield his mom from the dragon fire). His younger brother was inside, trapped under a collapsed beam but already gone. He was the only survivor, and was taken in by a man named Alberic who held the title of Azure Dragoon (the most powerful lance-wielder in the land, but I'll spare you the specifics. There's dragon-y magic and a literal dragon eye that gives them powers. This was supposed to be quick omfg). Estinien swore to avenge the deaths of his family and trained with Alberic, eventually becoming the next Azure Dragoon. Eventually, he gets his vengeance, but the cost is so much more than he expects. At the end of it, he is begging for his own death, but his friends (the WoL included) refuse to let him go out like that and save him. He's since been on a journey of self-discovery; who is he without the drive to avenge those he lost, without his duty or his post? In personality, Estinien is blunt and abrasive, he cannot read a room (but he would like to leave it). He has a sharp sense of humor and often teases his few friends, he's extremely sentimental, he's very protective of the people he cares for, and can't stop himself from helping a kid in need.

Relationship Summary

They overlook each other at first. Io finds Estinien too harsh and rude. He thinks (since she is seeing Haurchefant at the time, who is... affiliated with a noble house of Ishgard) that Io is another pretty girl grabbing at coattails--surely not the "great warrior" he's heard about. And it takes a journey into dragon country for them to warm up to each other, when he learns she can easily hold her own, and she sees how protective and kind he can be to their traveling companions. They become friends and it's easier than either of them expected. They don't talk about their loss with each other though, not for a long time. Both hear the other's story from someone else, and it endears them to each other, an unspoken, invisible bond in addition to what they've already faced together. Just as Io saved him at the end of the Dragonsong War, Estinien saves her when she faces off against the might of Garlemald and almost dies. It's a long time before she gets to thank him for that, but when she does, it's around the time he agrees to join the Scions too. They spend more time together, and they become almost inseparable. And as the world hangs on the brink of what seems to be another Calamity, they quietly fall in love and almost lose each other again. Neither confesses to the other until things have settled down. But once the confessions are out of the way, they easily fall into warm domesticity. They spend the better part of a year mostly in one place, living together, working together, making the smaller trips they need to but always returning to a home base. Now, there's the itch to travel again. They just pulled a stint of traveling separately but ended up in the same place. He very much wants to continue roaming, and Io does too, but part of her is starting to think about a family. I haven't decided when or if they talk about this lmao. They love each other so much, but both have a strong streak of wanderlust, and both are legendary heroes who belong to the world as much as they belong to each other.

Why they compel me:

I don't know if you guys know this about me but I love to think about grief :> It's the shared trauma, the love transformed into anger, and how new bonds can heal someone. I did not plan for Io's backstory to be so similar to Estinien's, and even before I shipped them, their friendship was a highlight for me. I love that they do most of their recovery on their own. I love that they always come back to each other. Big fan of people who might not appear outwardly soft all the time, but are just SO mushy for their partner.

They are both symbols of hope for their people, for better or worse. They understand that about each other, what it's like to have some of your personhood stripped away so you can embody an ideal.

Estinien is impulsive and straightforward, Io is cautious and thoughtful. He pushes her, and she grounds him. They both relish the peace the company of the other brings, and they are more certain of the other's ability and resolve than they are of themselves. They are best friends, they are family, and they admire each other.

Some key reads, chronologically:

close quarters | oh no, she's hot…

oblivious | a mutual friend notices io and estinien seem… different.

what i see in you, i hope you find in me | io realizes she is not in love with zenos

pang | estinien has his own realization

see you in the morning | the night before they depart towards unknown danger, estinien tries to soothe a worried io

in this state | io is unconscious, estinien keeps watch

mustering | estinien tells io about his brother, the first time he's talked about him in decades

take another step off the edge | FIRST KISS!!!!

And then their tag is filled with gposes I've made, art I've commissioned, writing prompt fills, fics from the two AUs I've written for them, and tons of quotes or poems that fit their vibe. I'd share a playlist but I don't have a playlist... there are five now T^T BYE!! 💗

[captainkurosolaire]

Father of Shadow

Grey skies of bone waste, dry uncertain humidity polluted the air, in a time stone of an oppressive era. When a peaceful Nation was under siege of a Garlean Empire was prominent conflict. Depleted soul's were torn from destruction brought upon them, not able to spark their rebel spirits. Hopelessness festered, longed, in the dark-void, absence reigned. Until those who dwell and thrive in night, answered. A Doman elegant-magpie, colored descended below gracefully upon a leather-glove, with a braille message-strung delicately for delivery, to who wields sharp steel and handles Black Miracles. It read two-words, stroked in Hingashi. "Unsheathe Shadow." The figure clad to black, descended below a tall cliff-side using a large-bright dragon-theme kite at the last daring moment, blocking a Magitek Armor with an Operator and fellow squadron leading a convoy of spoiled slavers, formerly settlers, farmers of the neighboring land, that'd know a harvest again. Feet-padded quietly a step in their pause. This mask-silhouette figure gave a small startle. Keen eyes of one Imperialist gave rise to a Eastern-forged scabbard blade, letting out a small-laugh from his throat, "Hey, Men! Seems we forgot one. Ki--" Cut off before the executive order, through a sleeved kunai punctured the throat. The specter of death, was swarmed instantaneous. Time felt frozen momentarily, when two-pursuers stepped in striking distance, before they were aware of the next breathe, they were struck down from a blinding quick unsheathe. A firm masculine gloved-hand grappled one of the defeated imperialist by their skull and used their cadaver as a shield-charge to block, a volley of ballistics sponged to the reload, swiftly, the assailant lunged his blade through the deceased into the reloading legionary, puncturing two-hearts. Crushing flail came swinging towards the assailant from behind, stern senses strengthened for obscured sight gave an acrobatic bending dodge, strands of raven hair's plucked grazing overhead, the swordsman withdrew his blade full of heated ichor, blinding the bruiser. Handicapped and shouting obscenities, he withdrew his chained-flail, the assailant vanished alongside the call-back, leaping carefully on returning weapon. Graciously leaping overhead. A swift-slice midair struck. Another head fell below removed from neck. Sudden commotion and pause made the prisoner's of war began up-roaring with renewed spirits, kicking at their confines. Magitek-Armored pilot took firing aim and unleashed a mini-gun of bullets at the shadow. The figure-glided with the wind, feline ear's rattling towards the preparing machinery coiling before assault, heel's building up wind, his blade let out a howling gust, rocketing him forth towards a hanging-tree, bullet's closely racketing behind. Fluid-movement, his free-arm locked onto a sturdy branch. He parted his blade-flat below his feet using it like a temporarily standing-board. Then unhooked from hip satchel a paper-scrolled bomb strung to another kunai, a fuse laid underneath the hilt like a switch, once launched and struck its target, it'd detonate. Ilm's from filling the assassin with swissed-holes, the weapon's arm of the machinery imploded and cracked pilot's glass windshield, the magitek armor fell off balance, exposed trying to regain control. His eye's-opened widely. Sole's directly above his small-layer between him, in the death-dealer who had catapulted and sprung himself with a feline leap. Shedding a last-gasp before expertly steel slid between the cracked- creases, and impaled him unable to evade demise. His skull ragged dolled forth bashing into the detonation button. Electrical in-balance was felt predicatively, the assassin leapt backwards, yet was unable to clear. Blocking with his arm's and blade, shrapnel of machinery projectiles dug into his flesh, boom sent the shadow careening below harshly.

Ember's surrounding him, scorched land and concussed with his hearing shrieking, distorted, his mask cracked. His body was tortured fashioned to these sensations. Adrenaline coursing inside him, nullifying the extent of his injuries, momentarily, he rolled instinctively feeling the heat near his feline tail. Despite being a deadly-weapon, expressionless, empty-nearly. He finished his task employed, by releasing the prisoner's door, they flooded out looking to find their rescuer but only a blood-trail remained mixed with all the other disarray. He had a date, with someone, that daringly made his sharpest blade, blunt. Even demolished like this, he wouldn't miss the intended target who'd forever alter his knowledge of Life. Using his blade-hilt as a cane to hold uprightness. In all or any; Darkness... There was somewhere a Light, to appreciate.

[Prev:Chapter]: ~ ♪"As Above, So Below"♪

[shipperwolf1]

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

Emet-Selch: let's try cars.

[tritoch]

now that i think about it the azem crystal and arcadion together sort of make "small-group tactics actually sort of IS your fighting style" almost into text, don't they

one effect of the azem crystal is that we cut back on ambiguous stuff like whether the WoL defeated thordan alone, that kind of thing. "yes, you had 7 other comparably-skilled allies" is now not just funny stormblood quest text but an inherent conceit of every trial (especially with endwalker and dawntrail's approach where every trial is either trusts or the crystal).

in-text there are many ways to be strong in final fantasy xiv (summon/incarnate a primal, dragon eye, be a pure-blood garlean genetic freak with an artificial echo, be an ancient, whatever reaper-type-stuff ran'jit and gukumatz had going on, feral soul, two-headed mamool ja, be godbert) and textually all the warrior of light has is whatever your class has going on, an unusually high amount of aether, the traveler's ward, the echo, and above all else the preternatural ability to quickly and easily pull together eight people for a social activity on really short notice.