#gerolt blackthorn

[wildstar25]

[ Manderville Weapons IV Final Mix ]

[astrology-bf]

Bonus cursed ship for Ifan!

Gerolt Blackthorn

...How to admit that they may or may not have already slept together on multiple occasions.

[kannedia]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 16 - Third-rate

*insert corny pick-up line*

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Remain calm, Beatrix told herself before reminding herself that she could handle what she had planned to do. The advice she had was good.

She approached Mikoto with her nicest smile.

"Want a raisin?" She paused deliberately. "No? How about a date?"

Mikoto looked up at her confused. As did Lilja.

"Oh, no thank you. I'm not hungry." She replied before returning her attention to her research.

Beatrix had a feeling Lilja was trying to give her a look of sympathy, but it was hard to be certain with the shades she always wore.

---

Gerolt snorted, putting his hammer down on one of his many worktables with a solid thud.

"Don't know what's funnier lass," He said with amusement. "Those lines or that ye tried them."

Beatrix merely groaned and leaned back against the least used worktable. This would be the last time she went to Thancred for advice. The third-rate flirt.

[nini-dirthara-lothlenanas]

"I had one drink. The others? Oh ..uhm .. well.. you see..."

[allycryz]

FFXIV Rarepair Week #2

Umbral Projection

Gerolt x Grenoldt, Rated T

A dream is one way two pieces of the same soul might meet or A man walks into the bar and meets himself. Sorta.

Rarepair Week Prompt 2: Opposites Attract

[Read on Ao3]

[berryzawati]

Gerolt & Layla - A tale as old as A Realm Reborn…

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Some silly throwback poetry from ffxivwrite2022...

Sojourn

I regret offering Gerolt Blackthorn,

Some lodgings where he might sojourn,

For he seduced my retainer,

Promising he'd "entertain" her,

But instead he's thrown up on my lawn...

Badly behaved guest silliness!

[most-fuck-able-ff14]

Leaving Erenville off was a crime, poll's rigged smh.

We left him off because, at the time, Mod Fisher was not aware of most of the EndWalker cast and adding him unbalanced the bracket.

The bracket was also 150 characters that we narrowed down to 60 and then had to raise to 64 to balance out the expansions (fun fact: Erichthonios wasn't part of the original 60! neither was Guydelot!)

Other unfortunate souls who will not get the chance to be fuckable (unless we rerun this tournament, which we will if/when the next expansion drops) include but not limited to:

Hoary Boulder, Coultenet Dailebaure, Riol Forrest, Nabriales, Isildaure, A-Ruhn-Senna (Mod Sage begged that we not include him. He is 18 and therefore meets the qualifications but he felt too baby face and Mod Sage just doesn't like him lol), Buscarron Stacks, Foulques, Gerolt Blackthorn, Janremi blackheart, Jehantel, Brother Joacin, Landenel, Gilgamesh, Briardien de manseauguel, Travanchet, the knights 12 (yes Mod Fisher was going to put each individual knight), Carvallain de Gorgagne (ALSO A CRIME FOR NOT BEING INCLUDED), Arenvald Lentinus, Ansaulme de rougecarpe, Soroban, Rex, and Branden.

It eventually came down to the mod team's preferences and rather or not Mod Fisher (who struggles with choice paralysis and staying focused so hasn't done a whole lot of side content/jobs) could get screen shots of them for the later rounds.

Hope that helps! -Mod Fisher

[wol-blackthorne]

Before the Calamity

"No tale of the Scions’ exploits is complete, of course, without an adequate description of the group’s heart: our Warrior of Light." — "Tales of Loss, Fire, and Faith" by Archon Y'sthola Rhul

Fiona was born to Hildelana and Winebaud Blackthorn, two monks of the Fist of Rhalgr, in the village surrounding Schism in western Gyr Abania. On the 16th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon, in the year 1545 of the Sixth Astral Era, she was given the name Fenna under the patronage of the Wanderer.

At age seven, as Fenna played on the banks of the Velodyna, her parents suddenly scooped her up and fled across the river and into the Black Shroud, farther west than Fenna knew was even possible. Behind them, the Mad King's Corpse Brigade razed the temple and murdered every monk they could find.

Knowing the forest to be less than welcoming, the Blackthorns skirted the northern edges and eventually came to the settlement of Wyrmwatch on Silvertear Lake's northern shore. There they lived for ten years, any hope of returning home dashed as Garlemald invaded Ala Mhigo. Expecting the same to eventually come to Eorzea, Fenna's parents taught her in the ways of the Fist to defend herself.

As expected, the invasion arrived on hulking airships, over the forest and into the heart of Eorzea. The Blackthorns stayed, intending to fight for their new home. The battle ended not by sword, but by the dragon Midgardsormr and the Agrias crashing into Silvertear Lake. The resulting aetherial explosion killed Hildelana and Winebaud. It spared Fenna in body, but wiped her memories.

Fenna awakened in the rubble of the now-forgotten village with naught but letters from a man named Gerolt Blackthorn in Ul'dah. With nothing else, Fenna followed the returning Immortal Flames to Thanalan. There she found Gerolt's ex-wife, Rowena, who in a rare charitable gesture (or as a way to spite her ex), directed Fiona to eastern Thanalan.

Gerolt, a former Monetarist blacksmith, worked in Highbridge mending odds and ends for travelers to fund his alcoholism. To his irritation, Fenna found him and, with letter in hand, revealed herself to be his estranged brother's daughter. Gerolt begrudgingly relayed what he knew of his niece’s past and she, through sheer stubbornness, learned the ways of the forge.

To earn her keep, Fenna briefly joined the Stone Torches as a guard, taking up the sword and shield. As a Torch, she witnessed the destruction of a primal summoning firsthand, as her team was dispatched to deal with one of the first Ifrit summonings in an Amajina and Sons mine and found only the scorched aftermath.

As Garlemald threatened further invasion in response to the primal summonings, the Torches joined Ul'dah's Immortal Flames. On Fenna's enlistment papers, the captain incorrectly wrote her name as "Fiona Blackthorne". Fenna, unfortunately illiterate, didn't catch the error and henceforth took a new name.

When the invasion never came, the provisional recruits returned to their old assignments. Fiona, however, left the Torches and joined several of her fellows in the new Adventurer's Guild.

"The Scions—then called the Path of the Twelve—first encountered Fiona, an adventurer by trade, during one of her guildleves in the Black Shroud." — "Tales of Loss and Fire and Faith" by Archon Y'sthola Rhul

Fiona spent the next ten years as an adventurer—traveling Eorzea, killing beasts, guarding caravans, and fixing hatchets.

Eventually, destiny found Fiona in the form of Yda and Papalymo, who crash landed in the Black Shroud during one of her leves. They had come to Gridania to warn of Garlemald's next attempt at invasion. Despite their intentions, their arrival angered the Shroud's elementals and all present—Fiona included—had to take part in a cleansing ritual.

During the ritual, Fiona witnessed a sudden meteor shower and awakened to the Echo, hearing the voice of Hydaelyn for the first time.

"While some features of the gift are common between its bearers, such as the ability to communicate regardless of language barriers, Fiona’s variant grants visions of both past and near future, particularly in situations where the exchange of aether is greatest. The gift elevated an already-skilled adventurer to new heights, [...]" — Ibid.

With her newfound ability, Fiona returned to Ul'dah to join Minfillia's Path of the Twelve, where she worked with the Ashcrown Consortium in securing the crystal trade and easing tribal relations. That work eventually turned to trying to make allies of Eorzea's various peoples, where Fiona and her fellow Path Walkers were captured by Amalj’aa.

In captivity, Fiona witnessed Ifrit’s summoning firsthand. Ifrit tempered her allies, leaving only Fiona unscathed. Assuming Fiona to be claimed by another, Ifrit vowed to leave her unscathed—as long as she vowed to summon no other primal.

A vow broken when Garlemald’s invasion began in earnest, set to the ominously growing second moon.

"[...] which would eventually lead her to the battleground of Carteneau on the night Dalamud fell from the heavens." — Ibid.

Desperate for salvation, under the guidance of Louisoix Leveilleur, the Path of the Twelve and Louisoix’s Circle of Knowing prayed to the Twelve at key holy sites around Eorzea.

Their prayers seemed for naught when, over the war-torn plains of Carteneau, Bahamut erupted from the lesser moon. Louisoix summoned the Twelve as abstracted primals to imprison the dragon, but failed. In a final gambit, he invoked Althyk's power to send Fiona and her surviving fellow adventurers into the future.

Few can recall what transpired afterwards. The survivors of the fall awakened to a realm remade in fire. As for the disappeared warriors, all anyone could recall was a blinding light.

Thus Fiona and her compatriots became known as the Warriors of Light.

[party-of-rpg-muses]

These two...! These two numbskulls are a riot and a half! Stuff like this almost made the Zodiacs Braves quests and all the months poured into almost worth it. Key Word being “Almost”.

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #1: Cross

Cross – annoyed (among many other definitions)

“Honey? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure can, love. One second.” Aleister called back to his wife. He was in the middle of preparing their dinner, but the sauce needed to simmer for a while longer before he could move forward, so he adjusted the heat levels on their home’s stove and stepped away, towards their living room. “What’s up?”

Gwenefyr Franks stood in front of the shelf he had set aside to store and display the various grimoires and codices he had wielded over the course of his career as an arcanima-wielding adventurer. It contained a myriad of tomes, from simple leather bound grimoires to ornately decorated thick volumes. Three, however, were more prominent displayed than the others. It was these three that Gwen’s eyes were fixated upon.

“Refresh my memory”, she said, her eyes not moving from them. “You’ve mastered two ancient magical arts that have their roots in modern Arcanima, right?”

He nodded. “Yup, that’s right. Allagan summoning and the scholarly magicks of Nym”

“Right. And I’ve seen you use this tome when wielding the former art.” she responded, gesturing the dark blue and black tome in the center. Its cover was more metal, blue lighting, and magitek devices than any sort of leather.

He smiled as he walked over to pick up the….tome? device? He was never really sure which term was more proper. “Ah yes, the ‘magitek grimoire’ as Cid named it. It’s not even really a book, technically, the pages inside are actually a display screen that calls up the various formulae and array designs required to execute the necessary spells.”

A smile came across his face as he recalled the memory of first seeing the device (he was settling on that now, he decided). “Cid actually gifted this to me just before our assault on Castrum Meridianum. After I met him and his memory had returned, I pestered him endlessly with questions about magitek, how it worked, what all it could accomplish. He never once seemed annoyed, though. I think he was happy someone regarded his passion with such wonder. He custom designed this for me, made it look more like a tome just so it would feel more familiar when I used it. That’s why I still use it to this day. It was my first real experience with magitek. Without this….I don’t know, maybe I’d still have gone on to learn as much as I have about engineering and help build the Machinist’s Guild, but, this was still my first step.”

Gwen turned to him, smiling. “I know what you mean, love. And I’m very proud of you for how far you’ve come.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then broke away, giving him a rueful look. “But no more distracting, I still have questions. This book-” she said, gesturing to the rightmost item. “This one is the one you use when wielding the Scholarly magicks, right?”

The book in question was a thinner volume, bound in red and blue leather, but with a strange series of gear- and pipe-like metallic decorations. Attached to the back cover and extending beyond the edges of the cover were two small cylinders which each contained a glowing substance–pure aether.

Aleister set the Ironworks grimoire back in its place. “Good memory, I know I haven’t needed to wield the Scholar’s art much since you became a Sage, That actually isn’t one of Cid’s or Nero’s, believe it or not. Did I ever tell you about Gerolt Blackthorn?”

Gwen’s face scrunched as she thought. “Isn’t he that legendary weaponsmith you told me about? The one that Rowena keeps around because she’s actually in love with him?”

He chuckled “That’s the one, and just a reminder, don’t EVER say that in front of her. He was part of the Anima project, the one that was trying to create life from aether. As part of it, Gerolt restored a number of ancient relics to functional use, all of which were potentials to use for the Anima’s vessel. We ultimately decided to use the greatsword he made for Dahk, but the restored relics were still perfectly great weapons on their own. This one in particular is called Elements, an ancient treatise on the relationships between the different elemental forms of aether. As you might guess, the metallic bits were additions Gerolt added to help contain the Anima, but even without that, well, I admit I just really like the look of it. It fits my whole aesthetic, you know?”

Gwen snorted. “I’ve seen the attire you wear as a Scholar, husband mine, and yes, I can agree, that like said attire, it does fit the absolutely ridiculous aesthetic you have going there”

“Hey!” He swatted at her backside, which she expertly dodged, giggling the whole way.

“Did you just ask me in here to tease me about my attire choices, or was there something else?” he mock-growled.

“Actually, there was one last one.” she said, gesturing to the leftmost and final of the three tomes given prominent display on the shelf. This particular volume was quite massive, bearing a green and brown cover with a metallic brass covering the edges and in patterns across the font and back, set with green and red gems. The upper corner of the front had a long green horn extending from it. “So if the other two are your preferred implements for your two Arcanima-based arts, then what is this one? You normally keep the older tomes further in, behind the current ones.”

“Ah.” he responded, looking at the volume with a mixture of resigned acceptance and fondness. “Well, that’d be because it’s not exactly old. In fact, it’s probably the newest acquisition of the collection, actually. It’s called Espiritus, another Gerolt restoration, but this one is from Bozja.”

“Oh right! I remember Fearless talking about these, they were the weapons of their old queen’s elite guard, right?”

He nodded. “That’s right. I guess they had a particularly talented arcanist in their ranks. Either that or Gerolt just massively improved on the design. Even the paper within is a rare material.”

He removed the grimoire from it’s resting place and opened it. The paper inside was a dark bluish-gray, the arrays and formulae within inscribed with a brilliant gold ink. Gwen marveled at the beauty. She knew her husband and provided the specifics of the designs to Gerolt to fill the tome’s pages, but it had been Gerolt’s expert hands that actually put them to page. The man was a marvel.

“It’s beautiful, but….if you prefer the magitek grimoire for day to day use, then what purpose does this one serve, then?”

His face twisted up in irritation. “I keep it handy for when I need to visit Maelvaan’s Gate.”

“The Arcanist’s guild? Why?”

“Because the last time I opened the Ironworks one within its halls, every single Arcanist in there looked at me like I’d insulted them personally.”

Gwen was taken aback, crossing her arms. “You’re joking.”

Aleister shook his head. “I am not. I was force-marched to the office of one of the departmental vice-chairs, the one with the insanely piercing eyes, and harangued for a solid hour on the importance and correctness of using ‘an actual, proper paper book’ when practicing Arcanima. Any protests I made about its effectiveness were shushed, and any examples I gave of deeds I had accomplished while using it were met with ‘and think about how much better you could have done with a proper grimoire’ and the like”

Gwen struggled mightily to hold back in her laughter, covered her mouth in the process, but she could tell from her husband’s expression that he wasn’t fooled. The man always could read her moon in her eyes very well, damn him. She regained control of herself and tried to set her mind back on his side. “Okay, funny as that image is, they shouldn’t treat you like that! You’re a Warrior of Light! You not only brought back two Arcanima based styles back out of history, you improved upon them! Please tell me you told Thubyrgeim about this, she needs to have a word with her people.”

To her shock, Aleister laughed, almost bitterly. “Who do you think did the forcible marching?”

She gasped, mostly to cover another laugh. “You’re kidding!”

“I am not. She might present herself as the picture of sanity in a madhouse, but the truth is she’s just as mad as all of them. The whole guild. Sometimes I’m amazed the Gate hasn’t exploded already”

She smirked at her husband “Uh huh. You’re part of that guild too, my love. And don’t even pretend you don’t enjoy a good explosion, I’ve seen the mad inventions that you, Cid, and Stephanivien have concocted before.”

“Quiet, you. I’m going back to making our dinner.”

I dyed the Ironworks grimoire and Espiritus soot black and hunter green, respectively, so don’t yell at me that I got the colors wrong!

[dainty-baneberry]

3. Temper

“I like watching you do that.” Cid observed lightly. “Tis not particularly difficult.” 

She whom he watched replied, drawing the head of her ax across the whetstone in even methodical strokes. “That is not why I enjoy watching you do it.” Cid chuckled. Dainty did not look up from where she was sharpening her ax, her dark magenta and orange limbal ringed eyes never leaving the blade nor the whetstone. “I should think watching me temper a blade would be of far more excitement than merely sharpening one. Then, at least, there would be an excess of steam to liven things up a little.” “You don’t enjoy tempering blades…” “You’re right.” Dainty quipped, still without looking up. 

There was a reason she never quarreled with paying Gerolt Blackthorn his weight in expensive alcohol if it meant he did that unpleasant part of forging her a weapon of her choice.

“..you do enjoy sharpening your axes.” Cid finished as if she had not interrupted him. This occasioned the beautiful auri women to look up from her task, tipping her head slightly to the side to observe the Garlean man who sat near to her. It was a quiet evening the Rhlagr’s Reach, most of the Resistance were redeployed to menial tasks now that their war of freedom was long over and its aggressor lay in ruins. Besides the Ironworks and its Principal Engineer the cliff flanked settlement boasted only a handful of men and women too infirmed to travel far and those who were devoted to domestic tasks. “I do.” Dainty agreed after a moment of silence contemplation before returning to her task. She often spoke little and had a reputation for being very stoic. 

The fact she conversed even this much with her white haired, blue eyed companion would have betrayed the very deep affection she felt for him, had anyone been present to witness it. Were any of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn present they would have found it very interesting indeed that Dainty allowed Cid to remain in her company as she sharpened her axe. She was notoriously private and precious of her hard-won free time, as fleeting as it often was and as Cid had observed she enjoyed sharpening her blades. Spending time with them outside the battlefield, feeling every little notch and knick and flaw. The blade she worked now had been taken from a tempered Ixali warrior who had forged the blade from Garuda’s own pinion feathers. It had been woven with enchantments to prevent the feathers from dissipating into aether when the Primal fell and, in the low light of the Reach, it glowed a gentle blue green. Sharpening such an ax was a task for no ordinary hands. Only the one who wielded it in battle could manage its unique blade shape. No matter how lethal a weapon it was there was no denying that it was an awkwardly shaped one. For Dainty the task was almost sacred, learning each by touch alone, the weight and balance of each becoming as much a part of her muscle memory as the beating of her heart. It was reflected by firelight in her features, making Cid quirk a small smile at the corner of his mouth that Dainty missed as she once again fell into her task.

[mythriteshah]

The Angels’ Gauntlet

High within the Peaks of Gyr Abania lies a cascade of water whose colored froth is reminiscent to the flower which shares the same name.  Known as Heather Falls, this roaring wall of waves sets the backdrop for a shrine, which was erected to honor the dearly departed, and the constant rushing of Heather Falls muffled the sobs whilst the spray from said waterfall hid one’s tears.  Thus was this shrine aptly dubbed: “Hidden Tear”.

Once outlawed by Imperial rule, this religious site did not see even the simplest of services for some time, and the remembrance of loved ones would be negated.  With Ala Mhigo’s liberation, however, this shrine could once again see such practices.  But it was not tears that would be shed this day, for this site was to be used to serve another purpose...

At the center of the shrine stood the Mythrite Sultan himself, Thiji Higuri, meditating on the top of the stairs.  The shrine was adorned with purple fabrics and myriad jewelry dangling from the copse of trees.  It was one of those rare moments where Thiji would have the look of serenity upon his features.

The sun rose over the Peaks, as the Warden brought forth the promise of another day.  The eccentric noble was clad in what seemed like Gyr Abanian garb suited for strikers, with no small amount of Near Eastern influence made visible on the turban and braccae.  Around his waist was a sash of colibri pink which stood out from the ice blue attire he is usually seen wearing, and with it carried the faint scent of brimstone and mirror apples.  This was the Sash of the Blind Maiden, an item said to be found within Amdapor Keep.  Why it was of such significance to the Mythrite Sultan was yet to be explained.

After a bell’s worth of meditation, footsteps were heard from the south, through the morning mists.  The surrounding area was clear, save for a few ruud suud corpses - no doubt recently slain to keep the shrine safe from predators.  Though the roar of the falls would muffle the sound somewhat, Thiji’s ears did not fail him, for he concentrated on the approaching footfalls which cascaded into a chorus of three, then of six.  Another slew of noises would reach his ears as well, for the rumbling of an engine is what followed.  A solitary airship made its descent, disembarking on the edge of the Mason’s Falls.  This ship bore the symbol of the Higuri Regalia, and carried with it numerous ladies - one of whom was Thiji’s mother, Mimizo Higuri, Valide Sultan of the Regalia.  As for the ones accompanying her, these were the personal retinue of maidservants who answer only to House Higuri: Thiji’s Angels.

Thiji opened his eyes and slowly turned his head, catching the silhouetted individuals breaking through the fog within his peripheral vision.  Reaching for his weapons, he took them in hand as they activated with a soft hum and gave off an emerald green light, with an aetheric sigil surrounding the “knuckles” - a testament to its burgeoning power.  These were a pair of Anima Weapons forged by Gerolt Blackthorn and Ardashir Balyk known as the Nyepels, and this particular pair has reached its apex, or Lux form.  The presence of martial and magical weapons meant that a fight was about to ensue.  But for what purpose?

At last breaking through the mist was Susuna Suna, Treasurer and CFO, with rapier and foci in hand.  To her left was Meriri Meri and Luluma Luma, and on her right, Lelena Lena and Shishira Shira.  Three individuals from the airship jump off from the deck to position themselves just at where the land meets the water: Koyuki Koki, Sarielle de Emeraude, and Swoztu Wuotwyrstwyn.  They seemed to be on stand by for healing and succor just in case the battle turned fierce.  The others still standing by the airship were the Head Secretaries and Veeveena, along with Sosona, whom was piloting the airship.  A final pair would make themselves known via the sound of beating wings from the north, over Heather Falls.  Astride a griffin of white down - a True Griffin, specifically - was Himmeya Twelvefist and Isja, who landed just beside the healers to spectate.

“He’s wearing it - Lady Mamai’s sash,” Luluma pointed out.

“Oh... the lordship’s first intended, aye?” Meriri asked with a hushed tone.  “Wish I coulda met the lass...”

“Then let’s honor her memory by giving it nothing short of our all today!” Susuna declared as she stepped forward.  “We’re in the right place for it, so let’s give the dearly departed a show!”

The others nodded and prepared their weapons, staring down Thiji, who maintained his position as his eyes scanned the environs.  With all the contestants in place, silence had once more fallen over the area, with only the rushing waters to keep them company.  Then, after a few long moments of waiting, the Angels heard a command from the Valide Sultan through their linkpearl...

“Begin.”

As if on cue, Susuna attached her focus onto her rapier, as motes of ice and fire danced around the weapon in synchronicity.  Meriri knocked an arrow and prepared to fire, waiting for the right moment to strike.  Susuna had completed her spellcast and would lob an orb of flame Thiji’s way.  The Mythrite Sultan maintained his composure, and as the spell would be within mere yalms, he would step to the right and shift his left foot back, keeping his pose as the fireball fizzled to his left.

Susuna smirked - “an easy dodge,” she thought - and then instantly launched a gust of wind onto the still-petering flames, resulting in a burst of heated air to erupt.  Thiji shielded his face with his left hand to keep away the ashes, but he would not have much time to recover as he would hear the whistling of an arrow headed straight for him.  Ever prepared, his right hand lashed out laterally to deflect the incoming projectile, reducing it to splinters.

It was at this moment that time may as well have frozen as Thiji plunged into the depths of his mind.  The Sash of the Blind Maiden - revealed to belong to Mamai - was a memento and a sort of anchor to his memories of her.  He recalled the time they met, fell in love, and the short time they spent together; he recalled their expedition into Snowcloak, where they faced the Lady of Frost in her stronghold - the Akh Afah Amphitheatre - where Mamai met her end... The loss was great to him, for it would mark the first of many in his journey through Eorzea.  But in his memories, he gained strength.  And in that strength, he learned more about himself.  About what he was... and of what he was becoming.

The memories of Mamai fading from his mind, he heard a shout from across the river as he came back to the present...

“Go fer it, Miss Suna!”

It was Meriri, giving Susuna the order to charge.  She would do so, of course, wasting no time to form an aetheric tether that closed the distance between herself and Thiji, lunging across the waters with great speed, her rapier poised to strike.  The Mythrite Sultan waited until she was within ilms, and swiped his right hand upward in a diagonal motion, parrying Susuna’s blow with a loud clang and breaking her balance.  The Treasurer would adjust her strategy by wheeling around in a circular motion with her rapier, striking low, and then high in a “Reverse Moulinet” fashion.

Thiji easily avoided the initial attack with a short hop, and ducked in response to the secondary high sweep.  Finally seeing an opening for an offensive, he rose from his lowered position into a seamless Snap Punch that found its mark on Susuna’s left shoulder, causing her to drop her focus.  As she reeled back from the blow, the Mythrite Sultan focused his chakra into his left arm, forming a barrier around his shoulder which took on the aspect of ice.  Unleashing all of his gathered might, he swiftly landed a gap-closer of his own: a full-body Ice Tackle with concussive force significant enough to shatter a glacier.  The attack sent the Treasurer skipping along the waters - once, twice, then thrice - with each bounce leaving frozen sheets of ice at the points of impact.  Susuna found herself back on dry land, Koyuki returning to deliver her dropped focus.

“Well, that’ll do for me, I think...” Susuna grunted, clutching her shoulder.

“A valiant effort, Cousin,” Luluma stated.  She then turned to face Thiji and readied her weapon of choice: a mythrite pugil stick.  “I shall challenge our lord next.  Miss Meriri, stand down for now, please.”  Meriri complied and stowed away her bow.

“Good call...” Susuna spoke back.  “Give ‘im Lesson Number One.”

The lancer Angel smiled and nodded to the Treasurer, twirling and flourishing her weapon before taking to her stance.  Her Circlet of Diligence was displayed proudly around her forehead  Thiji knew what was coming, for a Lancer’s mind is ever focused on the attack.  He knew well the tenets of a Lancer: courage - steeled by focus, and tempered by resolve - which made for an unflappable master of the polearm.  Nevertheless, he was all the more prepared to face whatever his next opponent had in store for him.  Taking note of his ice-aspected Shoulder Tackle, he gave his left arm a light shake as the vestiges of frost dissipated into the air.  Mimizo watched on with earnest, paying close attention to her son.

Luluma leapt into the water, landing on the frozen patches left behind as a byproduct of Thiji’s previous attack, jumping from pad to pad until springing several yalms into the air, the ice shattering from the impact of her footfalls.  The Mythrite Sultan, ever an advocate for developing a solid defense, assumed the Fists of Earth stance and awaited the Quartermaster's onslaught.  Utilizing her knowledge gained serving in the Othard Branch, Luluma performed a graceful series of movements, surrounding herself in a tiny storm of flower petals as she soared over her foe, and landed on the trunk of the tree in the shrine’s center.  An instant later, she kicked herself off and struck at Thiji, who had braced himself with the Nyepels raised.  A loud clang resounded from the impact, sending the Mythrite Sultan sliding across the ground, jumping from the top of the steps so as to maintain his center of balance before landing in the rivulet, remaining steadfast.

The petals twirled about Thiji in a manner akin to a person accosted by a swarm of wespes.  With a sharp exhale and a flexing of his arms, he would disperse them, the petals falling into the rivers and towards the Mason’s Falls, ending the flowery scene.  Though he would have little time to rest, for Luluma was soon upon him with a flurry of slashes (or the motion thereof as she is wielding a pugil stick - a blunt instrument).  Thiji guarded against her blows, sidestepped her lunges, and dodged her rising and falling strikes, leading in a patient dance in order to find the proper window to retaliate.  He maneuvered himself in such a way so as to place him back on the high ground, and feigned a retreat through careful backsteps toward the shrine.

Back on terra firma, Thiji made some distance between himself as Luluma, ice-aspected aether once again forming along his appendages.  Sensing another one of his Shoulder Tackles, Luluma widened the gap and made her way to the opposing end of the river where her fellow Angels resided, letting out a triumphant shout as she used her own aether to enhance her weapon, wreathing it in a reddish hue.

“Miss Himmeya, if you please!” she cried.  The Fist of Rhalgr Disciple fell in some yalms behind Luluma and assumed the Fists of Wind stance before bringing her arms forward, palms outstretched.  Thiji, meanwhile, stowed his Nyepels and made a “peak” with his hands, then crossing an arm over the other in a diagonal motion.  He would do this thrice before his arms fell at his side in the “ready” stance, focusing the ambient aether around him.  This did not escape Himmeya’s notice: this was the Fists of Ice stance - a technique she developed, though had not perfected.  Nevertheless, she held her pose and dug her feet into the ground as Luluma performed a reverse somersault, landing firmly upon Himmeya’s hands.  Come what may, the Mythrite Sultan was ready.

With a burst of wind released from Himmeya, she would propel Luluma forward at blinding speeds, as the latter twirled her pugil stick with such speed that it resembled a crimson ring of blood streaking towards Thiji, parting the waters as she did.  The other Angels watched in awe at Luluma’s fantastic display of skill, but what would follow may as well have left them speechless.  With but his left hand, Thiji would catch Luluma just as her strike would seem to hit, sliding only a few ilms backwards from the momentum of her attack.  When he had finally coasted to a stop, the onlookers would behold the scene of Luluma, caught in the clutches of her lord, with his right hand a hair’s breadth from touching her.

“...Mal,” Luluma uttered in the Thavnairian tongue.  The tip of his fingers brimmed with the ice-aspected aether he had gathered, and with one seamless motion, Thiji would ball his fist and deliver a One-Ilm Punch to the Angel’s solar plexus.  The kinetic force of the punch was of such magnitude that a cold snap would violently shoot out from behind Luluma as she flew backwards, causing the waters to rise and ultimately freeze into an ice wall a near-instant later, just in time for it to break her fall - albeit painfully.  After Luluma would slam against the wall, cracks would form and spread until it would finally shatter, causing the Angel to fall forward into the drink.

"I've taught our Sultan well... He is definitely... not the lordling I knew from the Sagolii anymore," Luluma spoke through pained groans.   With a soft smile, she would succumb to her wounds (though less "wounded" and more  "had the wind knocked out of her") and shut her eyes.  Thiji had caught the Circlet which was removed from it home upon Luluma’s head.  He would toss it high into the air before Nyra - whom was perched atop the branches of the shrine’s center tree - swooped in and clutched it in her talons before safely delivering it to Shishira.  Two Angels down, but the fight was far from reaching a conclusion. 

Reentering the fray, Meriri strode forward and loosed an arrow at Thiji whilst he recovered, finding its home on his left shoulder.  The other Angels gasped at the sight, with Thiji opening his eyes to address the damage.  He then lfited his gaze to Meriri, who gave a haughty wiggle of her eyebrow, with a grin to match bespoken to a “Gotcha!” expression; her Crown of Pride gleamed beneath the morning sun - a testament to her title of Apsara.

A brief moment to nod in acknowledgement and Thiji would pull out the arrow with little hesitation before snapping it in two.  His effects would then change from his monastic attire to pure white Mhachi robes and a muffed met of Ala Mhigan design; Darklight Gloves and boots with blissful jewelry completed the ensemble.   Pulling out an ice blue codex and revealing its pages, it would activate as the Caduceus symbol resonated from the front and back covers, and another light hum similar to the Nyepels Lux was heard, and a triangle of beautiful wings of yellowish-green rotated counter-clockwise inside a runic circle.

“Scholar...?” murmured Isja.  “Curious...”

As the battle unfolded, there was commotion going on below.  Sosona looked over the deck of the Vigil to ascertain its source: some of the locals took notice of the sounds of fighting, and were beginning to make their way through the Rustrock region to spectate.  A small crowd would soon begin to form around the outskirts of the shrine, a considerably safe distance from harm’s way, headed by Lilina Lina - even some of the Resistance soldiers were in attendance, taking note of the presence of their former colleague, Himmeya.

"Ahh, Miss Lilina has succeeded in rousing the people," spoke the Valide Sultan.  "Excellent; an audience always makes for memorable occasions."

Meriri’s opening gambit was a spinning jump, loosing three aetherial arrows at the Mythrite Sultan.  With a simple spell, Thiji would slap shut the Anabasis Lux - another Anima Weapon - as the wound from Meriri’s arrow was knit shut, and he would be shielded by a barrier which would easily deflect Meriri’s attack, reducing the arrows to aetherial splinters.  Thiji answered in kind by swiftly yet deftly writing in his tome as the ambient aether gathered and chilled around him before being absorbed into his body, some motes being transferred into the quill with which he was writing.  Once complete, he tossed the quill in the air as it vanished before slapping the page as per the Arcanist manner and fired two bluish-grey bolts at Meriri.

Knowing that direct confrontation would avail her little, she made the choice to avoid the spell by performing a short hop to the right, then to the left.  Each bolt exploded some fulms from her face, her curly red hair becoming dotted with flakes of purest white.  The archer quickly surmised that it was snow, and further deducted that he was augmenting his Ruin spell with elemental energy.

Meanwhile, Thiji had begun scribing for a larger spell, his tome forming concentric rings of arcane lettering around him as he made some queer drawings in the air.

"Oh, no, ye don't!" Meriri exclaimed with a cheeky snort as she prepared to loose another arrow, her Crown resonating with her arrogant aura, summoning forth a violet salvo of phantasmal arrows in likeness to Refulgent Arrow.  She had sought to stop his spellcast before he could finish, and even his barrier could not withstand the full might of her attack after having endured the initial strike.

“Ya left yerself wide open, m’lord!  Taste the Apsara o’ Pride’s Vainglory Voll --”

Before she was able to finish her impassioned declaration, Meriri found herself temporarily impaired by a flash of golden light that caused her to yell in a startled manner, breaking her focus and loosing her arrow - and her attack thereof - into the air, resulting in a fireworks show of purplish delight.  Meriri thus broke out in a small tantrum, thrashing about with her bow, hitting nothing but the air around her.  Once her vision had returned to her, the first scene she beheld was a gold-and-violet faerie hovering just above eye level, dangling her Crown of Pride in a playful manner.

“Oi!  Give that back, ya tricksome spirit!” she exclaimed in annoyance, grabbing at the ornament, only for the faerie to lift herself just above her reach before returning to her original position.  The show begot a decent laugh from the onlookers - and her fellow Angels, besides.  The diversionary tactic born from the initial exchange provided Thiji with the means to conceal the quickening of his faerie Lunabelle, who had hid herself away until the proper moment when Meriri would take the bait.

With more than enough time bought at this juncture, Thiji’s incantation was complete, and the Anabasis would begin to levitate from his palm.  With a light push, the tome affixed itself into a rectangular “slot” that the Mythrite Sultan drew, the aether stored within being disseminated before two large circles began to spin.

Seeing that she had done all that was necessary, Lunabelle finally released Meriri’s Crown and vanished into the aether, the Plainsfolk grumbling to herself as she placed it back upon her head.  She then turned back towards Thiji’s direction, only to be welcomed by a volley of his own design.  An endless fusillade of quicksilver bolts of heated aether converged on Meriri’s position, and all she could do was avoid and evade, firing as many arrows as she could to find some semblance of an opening.  A half-tick was all it took before she would finally be overwhelmed, and she could do naught but shield herself from the inevitable.  Meriri let out a shriek as she was pelted into the waters by Thiji’s “Broil Barrage,” giving their impromptu audience a means to applaud by the spectacle - though the entertainment was far from over.

When the dust had settled, Meriri was lying face-down, the Crown of Pride once again deprived of its home as it was carried by the currents towards the falls.  Sarielle had managed to grab a hold of it before it would even be close to reaching the plunge, and Swoztu picked up and turned Meriri around, her incapacitated state made apparent by crosses superimposed upon her eyes as though she were a knocked-out Namazu.

Another Angel down; another round of applause from the Gyr Abanian locals.  A smile crept along Mimizo’s features, becoming more and more pleased by her treasured son’s performance.  As Swoztu hummed a soft tune to restore Meriri back to consciousness, she slowly retreated from the scene to make way for Thiji’s next opponent: Himmeya Twelvefist, the Regalia Enforcer.

“Hm?  You’re up, Miss Himmeya?  Were not Miss Lelena and Miss Shishira going to challenge Lord Thiji next?”  Isja asked.  Himmeya smirked and shot a glare at the two Angels she mentioned - they were among the crowd who were cheering on the Ala Mhigan native.

“See, I was going to let them,” Himmeya began, “but this here’s our turf, and we’re fighting on a shrine dedicated to the fallen.  These people - my people - would be arsed to not see a daughter of Ala Mhigo and a war hero do battle!”

Punching her fists together, Himmeya readied herself for combat as the force of the impact pulled back the levers of her weapons, activating the knuckle-like extensions and releasing a steady stream of watery and earthen energy that danced around her hands and forearms in harmony.

“Master Himmeya is about to fight!  Watch closely, brothers and sisters!  You’ll see a true disciple in action this day!” spoke a stout Highlander garbed in Tantra attire - no doubt a fellow Fist of Rhalgr who brought his own apprentices in hopes of encountering such.  Though the thought of being called “Master” made Himmeya arch her brow inquisitively.  From the implications of being a master, she never really entertained the idea of training students - at least not while the Garleans were still in control of the region.  But perhaps after today, the monastic order may receive a much-needed glow-up.

Thiji, now aware of the battle order’s shift, nodded in acknowledgement before stowing away his Anabasis Lux.  He would then stretch his arm outward as his attire underwent another change.  His robes would soon vanish as a much simpler ensemble took its place: an ice blue suikan, with sarouel and babouches - attire he had once wore during his days as a cosplayer.  In his right hand, a spear would begin to take form.  This weapon’s shaft had a maroon finish, and the butt-spike and spearhead were ornately decorated in ice blue and gold, with intricate designs that would make any faithful of Halone jump with joy.  This weapon was none other than the Spear of the Fury.

“Ooh-hoo!  Now this is going to be a fight!” Umimi said in excitement.  “I’ve not seen my brother-in-law as a Dragoon in what has felt like ages!”

“A shame,” Yuanji followed with a sigh.  “I had hoped for a Mhachi spectacle between our Lord Sultan, Miss Lelena, and Miss Shishira...”

Thiji had taken his place atop the small hill a short ways west from Hidden Tear.  Himmeya turned her head towards him and widened her eyes at the sight.  A foe such as the Mythrite Sultan - who has mastered various forms of combat and then some - would prove to be far less predictable compared to the pikemen of the Corpse Brigade, the halbardiers of the Temple Knights, and the Xaelic lancers of the Azim Steppe of which she has experienced.

“...But even I will find myself hard-pressed to hold back our lord,” Himmeya commented before turning back to Isja.  “Mind backing me up?”

The pale Viera could only grin and saunter forth in reply.  Stepping into the river, Isja stood about an arm’s length from Himmeya as she twirled her cane ane stare down the Mythrite Sultan.

“I had hoped you would ask that.”

Two opponents now stood before Thiji: his finest Enforcer, and his prime model; a Monk and a Blue Mage, respectively.  The mere excitement of facing such a duo was palpable.  But he would need to quell such anxiety in order to succeed in this gauntlet.

Gazing back down upon his spear, his mind was waylaid by another set of memories - these of which he holds most dear: it was some summers ago, prior to the introduction of the Viera and Hrothgar into Eorzea, in Costa del Sol, where had made an appearance at a luau dedicated to the entire Lalafell race.  Many of his compatriots and business partners were present for the festivities, all of whom were happy to see the reclusive noble attending a social gathering (in his robes amidst a summer day, no less).  Out among the dross, however, stood a beloved friend:

The onyx-haired, violet-robed Dunesfolk maiden with limpid emerald and sapphire orbs, whose very presence commanded respect by her peers; an esteemed wizardess of the highest caliber, whose mastery and majesty over Mhachi magic was without peer and reproach that smallfolk and noble alike would whisper her as being the direct descendant of the great Shatotto, and the Dark City’s brightest star.

Those who mocked her name for knowing the Far Eastern dialect would be met with unceremonious and indiscriminate conflagration.  This was none other than Lady Chichibi Chibi - Merchant Queen of the Sagolii Deep, Grand Magus of the Order of Mhach, and Jewel of the Dunes - who carved her own piece of Eorzea in the desert and rose an empire from the sands...

... The most perfect match for the Mythrite Sultan... were the threads of the Spinner woven in favor of such an outcome.

During the waning hours of the festival, the two merchant-lords regaled each other over their adventures, exploits, and premonitions of coming days.  Though they were rivals once, they eventually came to respect one another as they grew up in the Sagolii Desert.  Though Thiji’s magical aptitude was second only to the Mhachi beauty, he was praised by Chichibi in kind for his exceptional martial skill.  Together, the two of them would have been unstoppable; they could rule the realm, even.

But they were aware of one another’s intent: Thiji had relinquished the mantle of adventurer and dedicated his time and energy into running the Regalia, and Chichibi did the same to maintain her hold upon her own empire deep within the desert, leaving her apprentices and hired hands to be her eyes and ears.

They knew that this would perhaps be their final farewell - at least for a long while.

The seeds of love that doubtless blossomed within them were brought to realization when their gazes met at the luau.  Ever the professionals, they did not wish to be too motivated by their emotions.  Thiji could have easily turned to her and confess his feelings for the Merchant Queen, and he would have likely received an amiable response.  Thiji’s icy countenance was the only one to soothe the ever-raging flames of her soul, and only Chichibi’s fiery will was potent enough to calm the harsh blizzard which surrounded his heart.  But in his heart of hearts, he had to let go of those feelings - of her.  Even if someone else were to one day take Queen Chichibi’s place, the Mythrite Sultan knew that she would not relinquish her right to rule so easily, for she was meant to shine eternally as Thanalan’s star - even if she must do so alone.

And so, with what felt like a two-tonze weight upon his heart, he would take his leave of her.  But before he would out of earshot, something spurred Chichibi into action - as if her heart took control of her for only a moment.  The next three words she uttered were ones Thiji would forever engrave into his mind; three words that only someone who knows and cares so deeply for the Mythrite Sultan that it would give even his heart pause...

“... Walk with Halone.”

And walk with Her he would.  And as he recalled this memory, something within Thiji awakened, as if finally discovering a long-lost fragment of himself.  Chichibi knew of his impeccable mastery over ice-aspected aether; that he was blessed by the Mothercrystal; that his destiny lie beyond the mere ken of an adventurer.  She wanted him to see that, and the words she spake that fateful eve was the greatest parting gift for which he could have ever asked.  Though Queen Chichibi may have experienced sadness for that brief moment, she knew that Thiji would become the man she respected - and loved.  Her lineage - though shrouded in myth and mystery - was always born under the aphorism of “might makes right”, and knowing Thiji for as long as she did, there was no reason to question that he would do the same - albeit in his own special way.

Coming back to the here and now, Thiji snapped his eyes open, and after a bright flash of blue, began radiating an aura of frost, his spear now coated with aetherial rime.  His expressions also became calm - calmer than the usual demeanor for which he is known.  The crowd and the Angels gasped at the sight, whilst Mimizo grinned widely. 

“At long last,” the Valide Sultan stated, “my treasured son has embraced his true self.” 

Isja remained undaunted by her master’s heavy - yet sudden - shift in elemental aspect, and made the first move.  Winding the aetherial currents around her, she would conjure a pair of spinning projectiles that she would then fire upon the Mythrite Sultan, only for them to be deflected with little effort by his weapon.

Himmeya, anticipating retaliation, went into the Fists of Earth stance and assumed her best defensive form.  Though she and Isja would have little time to compose themselves as the Dunesfolk noble charged at them with the speed and ferocity that only a dragon could match.

With his augmented aether at a heightened level, Thiji rose his Spear of the Fury and hopped a few ilms into the air before thrusting it forward, releasing a serpentine blast of energy.  The ice-aspected aether caused the blast to look more akin to that of a beam of frost that cut a linear swath down the waters.  Isja and Himmeya barely avoided the assault, now cut off from each other as the resulting attack left a coiled wall of ice betwixt them.  Himmeya, seeking to keep Isja close, recovered from her dodge and focused the Fists of the Fiend’s energy, punching and shattering the wall in one swift motion.  Isja repaid her efforts by conjuring the power of the north to refrigerate her saliva, releasing a chilling gust that sent the flying shards of ice outward to the advancing Thiji.

The Mythrite Sultan, however, sprang into the air, easily avoiding the spell.

“Ware his Jump, Master Himmeya!” cried the Fists of Rhalgr disciples, warning her of the impending attack.  She would heed them, and would roll out of the way.  Isja quickly formed an aetherial current to the shrine’s southeast pillar, teleporting herself out of harm’s way while also obtaining the high ground - just in time before Thiji struck the waters with his frozen might, once again turning the surrounding waters to ice.

Being on the defensive would avail little.  Himmeya needed to pressure him if she were to have a chance at success.  Taking to the Fists of Ice stance her lord performed earlier as a Monk, she hopped into the frozen rivulet and skated across to meet Thiji in battle.  He could only oblige him as they clashed in a display of martial skill and glacial mastery; with every blow landed, snow and frost danced around them.  Himmeya’s people cheered her on as their duel unfolded, while Isja began tapping into her feral side, crouching low with eyes aglow.

Though Himmeya’s strength proved formidable for a time, she endured a few strikes here and there, though this was on purpose as Thiji was not intending to cause any lasting harm, hitting her in protected areas.

“Himmeya - move!” Isja roared as she covered herself in a thin layer of aetheric scales.  Thiji would deliver a Wheeling Thrust that would send gusts of ice in Himmeya’s direction as he heard Isja’s cry.  But before she could comply, Himmeya guarded herself from Thiji’s strike, sliding across the ice, but maintained her balance as her feet met solid ground at the riverbank.  Isja then sprung as high as her body could allow her (with some aetherial aid, of course).  At the apex of her leap, with arms and legs outspread, she would descend upon the Mythrite Sultan with murder in her eyes.

The onlookers watched Isja drop like a rock, and all that followed was a massive thud that would shatter the ice and shake the earth, resuming the water’s natural flow.  Thanks to her shielding herself earlier, Isja felt little pain from the resulting slam that would doubtless have broken something otherwise.  As for Thiji?

He had managed to somersault from his original position prior to the engagement just in the nick of time.  And though it would have been the prime moment to take the offensive once more, he would hear a voice from behind him:

“That is enough.  We are satisfied.”

It was Mimizo, escorted by the Head Secretaries, who had come forth to address everyone.  The Angels fell behind them and gathered at the hill, surrounding Thiji.  She stood by her son’s side and placed a hand upon his shoulder, giving him a proud smile.  “Thank you, dearest Angels.  And thank you all, fair people of Gyr Abania, for witnessing this spectacle.  Though this shrine was abolished by the Garlean Empire, we of the Regalia sought to welcome its return: through a gauntlet - a battle in remembrance to the brave sons and daughters of Ala Mhigo who have made the ultimate sacrifice.  Hidden Tear shall shine once more as a site for honoring the fallen.”

The Gyr Abanians gave an uproarious applause from the Valide Sultan’s speech.  Before too long, they would disperse and make their way back down to Ala Gannha.  The Angels shortly followed suit and tended to their injuries and prepared to set back off to the Aldenard Branch.  Thiji remained by the shrine, gathering his thoughts, while Mimizo approached him with a grin only a mother could give.

“’Tis nice to finally see your true soul shine, my son,” she said to him.  “How do you feel?”

She would only receive a cold silence as her answer.  But she expected this, and maintained her beaming expression.  She decided to press the matter further.

“This gauntlet was of my own design, as you know.  This shrine was a fitting setting when I heard of its former practices, for your powers of the Echo have finally been realized.  Do you know of the Sixth Heaven of Ice, my Thiji?”

“Yes,” he replied, “‘tis a majestic and lofty palace carved by the Fury’s own spear.”

“Made from?”

“... Frozen moonbeams.”

“Correct.  And don’t think I did not detect that apprehension in your voice.  Yes, I know the Lover has spurned you many times, but she holds sway over the realm of ice, as does Halone, whom you and your brother worship.  And you, my son, have ever walked the path of the warrior - the myrmidon - the knight.  Though others may value love, others prefer war and strategy, and it would be through combat that you could discover the hidden power within you: ice-aspected aetherial manipulation, or as some would prefer: Cryokinesis.”

“I always understood that the Echo’s powers varied from person to person, in both utility and efficacy, but I did not think such a thing possible... until... the Eistanz.  Though I had only ever used the Mothercrystal’s blessing to resist the will of primals and eikons.  But there is still the matter concerning Lady Alicen, and her attunement to the Lover...”

“She is the other side of the coin, my son.  She was blessed by Menphina, and has become an avatar of sorts - just as you have of Halone.  Her path is one of  compassion, and yours is of solitude.  Though you are both aligned to the element of ice, your strength comes from your heart and soul, which has grown ever icier over the years.  But you still show love and respect to those for whom you care.  And this, my beloved son, is what I had meant to show you all this time.  Thavnair - nay, the realm at large - needs defenders.  Stalwart and fearsome ones, at that.  Embrace winter - embrace the Fury as you have before.  Perhaps you may even become a Warrior of *Ice*!”

The Mythrite Sultan gave a curt nod and before his mother embraced him.  With his free arm he would return her affection.  Though it was fleeting, he felt the warmth that only a mother’s love could bring in his heart.  Mimizo then walked with Thiji back to their airship to commence their flight back towards the Goblet.  In his mind, Thiji would piece together the puzzle that was his life thus far: why he was always so unfortunate in finding his Sultana, and why he had always loved the cold.  From his triumphs, defeats, accomplishments, and shortcomings (pun not intended), it was all a test to prepare him for what’s to come. 

He ever walked the path of a man scorned by love - destined, it seemed, to be alone.  But in his loneliness, his solitude, he found his strength.  He found his motivation and drive to press onward.  Thiji, the sultan with a heart of ice that would make Ysayle seem like a melting snowball by comparison, used his resources to uplift and enlighten others, lest they share the same lonely fate as he.  Many sacrifices were made - even his own dream had to be cast aside... but he made peace with this loss, for without delving into his sorrow, he would not have created his own martial dance style - and a powerful one, no less.  At the cost of turning his empire into the prosperous gem that it is today, his heart would be like a blizzard.  And after numerous trials, he would become one of the most dangerous creations in any society:

A man - or Sultan with nothing to lose.

[theduplicitousdame]

Machinist Lore: Firearm Origins and Prominent Designs - Part 2

Hey everyone! I’m back with another lore post for machinists! You can find part one right <here> . It goes into detail about Allagans and Garleans, as well as the types of guns we see today IC. For this post I will be transcribing guns that we find as dungeon drops or as artifacts from page 205.

Quick Silver: “Desiring a weapon unlike any that had come before it, a wealthy Ul’dahn socialite commissioned Gerolt Blackthorn to create him a dueling pistol. Not overly familiar with the mechanics of firearms, Gerolt simply copied the design of a traditional culverin, adding a few embellishments to the stock and barrel so that his client might not soon become wise to his ruse. That said, being a creation of mastersmith Blackthorn, the quality of the resulting product was unarguably second to none, despite its run-of-the-mill origins.”

Gjallarhorn: “Named for a mythical battle born whose blast could “be heard in all worlds,” and decorated with an elaborate web of iron wyrmrings and pair of all-seeing eyes, the compact firearm is another relic from an age in which man and dragon put their differences aside to live together in harmony. Why such a powerful weapon was needed in a time of peace is a question that may never be answered.”

Blue Steel: “A portable flintlock carried by House Haillenarte cannon operators, Blue Steel has fixed to its barrel a short bayonet that can be used in close-quarter encounters when reloading is no longer possible - a feature that has earned this style of firearm the name “knifelock.”

Kunitomo: “A matchlock musket of Far Eastern design, this particular firearm was crafted in Kunitomo, a region of Hingashi renowned for its gunsmiths. While the isolationist bakufu strictly prohibits the export of these weapons to the mainland, several have found their way to Doma and beyond, where they are quickly bought up by collectors and locked away from prying eyes.”

Nightsteel Blunderbuss: “Created at Ishgard’s Skysteel Manufactory, the nightsteel blunderbuss is not actually a blunderbuss - a type of firearm that is defined by its long, flared bore - but a modern handgonne. It earned this misnomer from the retractable flared scope which rests above the barrel.”

Armageddon: “This jet black revolver crafted by Gerolt Blackthorn employs a pepperbox firing system that, instead of rotating a multi-chamber cylinder around a single barrel, sees the firearm’s triune barrels revolve around a single axis. The reservatory affixed above the stock serves to house synthetic souls of Allagan design known as “anima.”

Outsider: “Another of the Skysteel Manufactory’s creations, Outsider employs a revolutionary drum-shaped magazine that is able to hold up to ten times more ammunition than a traditional revolver. For many years following its conceptualization, the invention remained shelved in a Machinists’ Guild storeroom, its approval for mass production consistently denied by the Holy See’s more conservative officials.”

Allagan Pistol: “The Allagan pistol - standard-issue weaponry for the empire’s infantry in the late Third Astral Era - uses a complex crystal injection system that sends concentrated wind energy into an atherochemical accelerator where it is simplified to increase maximum projectile velocity.”

Magnatus: “One of two gifts (the second being the bow, Kaman) presented to Anshelm Cotter by a Near Eastern emissary at the great unifier’s coronation ceremony. The word “magnatus” can be translated from the Ilsabardian into “baron”, “magnate”, or “great man”, a detail that most certainly pleased the newly crowned regent. As to whether its beauty also rendered Anshelm speechless, history leaves surprisingly no mention.”

Deathlocke: “Deathlocke is the culmination of countless moons of research, reforging, and refining by mastersmith Gerolt Blackthorn. Whereas the anima vessel in its predecessor, the Armageddon, required quarantine from the main body of the weapon, no such separation is required in this marvel of Allagan technology recreated for a new age.”

 Aaand there ya go! Page 205 transcribed. I hope you all enjoyed this post and were able to find it useful for your character(s). There is another section for Machinist gear that I might transcribe as well. 

[thefreelanceangel]

Also you get things like Gerolt Blackthorn unironically quoting “2001: A Space Odyssey” in them..

It’s fantastic.

I love the Hildibrand Quests but they make so much more sense when you realize interacting with Hildibrand turns FFXIV into a Gag Manga.

Why does the Hair tonic shine like that - because it's funny

Why are there Gentleman Zombies?- Because Its Funny

Why do Hildibrand's absurd plans work?- BECAUSE ITS FUNNY

Hildibrand Quests are Like That because It's Funny!!!! It's supposed to be a good Joke! You've genre-switched into a Comedy after however many chapters of serious Drama.

It's a little bit of brilliance on the part of the writers that they give you some time to laugh and smile before they get back to gut-punching you with the regular scheduled content.

It's one of the reasons I always do them before I start the next expansion, it mentally resets me for the heaviness to come from the MSQ.

[thecrucibleffxiv]

“ROE”WENA: THE AWFUL TRUTH!

Oft has the infamous Mor Dhona kingpin Rowena been spoken of in hushed, reverent tones. There are those who act as if she’s some kind of mercantile genius, able to make money off anything, and there are those who claim to admire her. But the truth is out about the woman whom so many claim to admire: her true full name, her marital history, and all her dirty secrets.

Most importantly, though she claims Ul’dahn heritage, Rowena is actually half-Roegadyn and a native of Limsa Lominsa - thus her ridiculous manner of speech the likes of which no self-respecting Ul’dahn citizen would adopt. Rowena is, in fact, Rowena Bloefhiswyn, the half-brother of the previous “Admiral” of Limsa Lominsa (who, like so many others of their tainted brood, shares the name of his father) and aunt to the city’s current, infamous leader. Her mother is actually a disgraced former member of the Ala Mhigan nobility so reviled that her name has been stricken from all written record.

So where did the money come from? It can’t have all been piracy, can it?

No. She runs a higher level of crime - money laundering, extortion, loan sharking and even slavery, too.

Rowena Bloefhiswyn renames all her employees - a brand of the ownership she now holds over them. She won’t hire anyone who isn’t in the absolute most desperate situations possible, keeps them in nightmarish working conditions working, oftentimes, twelve 20-bell days consecutively. She doesn’t actually pay any of them anything but her own fake money, keeping them from ever escaping, and cracks down hard on anyone trying to exchange gil for her half-baked “tomestones” (since an actual conversion rate would risk her slaves escaping). Her operations are built on the backs of murder and mayhem.

And it gets worse.

Ask any layman why the Mamool Ja are present in Eorzea and you’re likely to get one of several responses - divine punishment, continental drift, global warming - but the truth of the matter is that they’re from a place “creatively” titled The New World, discovered and pillaged by a convoy led by Merlwyb and funded by her own aunt.

That’s why the seventy-year-old woman who dumps a fortune into anti-aging treatments is seen wearing garish garb from across the sea and no pants.

She wants, desperately, to escape who she is and where she’s from - she’d have you believe her to be Ul’dahn, she’d have you believe her to be young, she’d have you believe her to be a brilliant businesswoman when really all she does to succeed is sink to the darkest depths of bad business in new, depraved, heretical ways.

She’s a disgrace to our city and the absolute greatest mistake we could ever commit is allowing this foreign agent to take the seat on the Syndicate vacated by Teledji Adeledji. How could we replace a born hero with this shriveled, dried prune of a woman?

And on top of all of this, we have confirmation that she’s even enslaving her own illegitimate children. During her marriage to legendary weaponsmith Gerolt Blackthorn, she had an affair with an unnamed Miqo’te man. When the child came out with cat ears, the wronged husband filed for divorce and, in his mercy, passed up the opportunity to challenge the simpering feline to a duel over his honor. Instead he left, and Rowena, too wrapped up in selling lives, handed the child off to the husband, who himself had another wife. The couple raised the girl for a handful of years until a jealous Rowena, unable to accept that someone on this planet could be happy if she can’t, lured them out into the wilds of Dravania and slaughtered them, blaming the murders on a roving pack of bears she then put a bounty on to cover her tracks.

Since then, she’s enslaved the child - and others like her - to work for her. They hand out trinkets and use their supposed “cuteness” to draw customers in and increase sales - and in the case of one Khloe Aliapoh, they’re used to hand out coded hit lists to specially trained and brainwashed agents.

So tell us, Ul’dah - is this a woman you’d want in a position of leadership? Is this a woman who belongs in the same hallowed ranks as Godbert Manderville?

Edel Geraldine technically didn’t write this, but another staffer decided she didn’t want to risk the fallout if this explodes in her face later and decided to put his name down instead.

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