#roevemberxiv

[verysmallcyborg]

Roevember Day 1 - Name

Fornax Val'ethtue - or Fyrstyrn (Fire Star) Dotharl, if following the naming conventions of Roegadyn and Au Ra. “Fornax” is Latin for “furnace,” and is also a constellation. One might believe that they are a Hellsguard, but they’re a Sea Wolf! Curious. (I definitely did not originally look at Roe names when I first made her. shhh) The embodiment of an immovable object that harnesses and is driven by their strong emotions, their rage, their need to love and survive. One of two of Hydaelyn's fiercest champions, Fornax lives up to their title through and through. Despite intimidating appearances and all, she bears a deeply caring and loving, adventurous heart. One may find them being happily smothered by the stray cats of Limsa...

a little written intro to accompany the name prompt! say hi to my beloved butch au roe, fornax :)

roevember prompt list

[oneiroy]

RoevemberXIV #23: Legend

Legend has it that the captain of the Hydra's Heads can call upon the might of a Leviathan in battle. It's not literally true, but don't tell her enemies that.

[viiioca]

[ day 15 - pride ]

I find the concept of strength to be insulting, if I am to be fully candid.

It's patronizing. When confronted with proof of struggle, the response is to deny the fortitude of the human spirit in total: You're strong to have survived it at all. Is that not appallingly cynical? This presumption that our basic condition is one of debilitating weakness; as if the pathetic little animal we have crouched in our hindbrains will simply perish at the first pang of thirst or the first shiver in the cold, and it is only through surpassing willpower -- found only within special, singular individuals -- that it might be wrangled, domesticated, and steered properly towards the salvation it is too stupid to seek on its own. To be divided into categories of weak and strong in matters as basic and innate as survival is Emet-Selch's jaundiced ideology, and its poison is an insidious one that, once free in the bloodstream, is difficult to neutralize.

Intuitively, Minfilia rejects this specialness when it threatens to isolate her from the rest of mankind; while she has defined it as some bone-deep unworthiness, I see her prime driver for what it really is. Like a starved wolf, her guiding force has been one of hunger, a solitary urge to consume the bounties of life until her bottomless belly is full. She will know all its finest flavors -- all of its love and joy and sorrow -- because she will seize upon them like a hungry hunting dog devours its master's forbidden kill, helpless to instinct in spite of the guilt. She will survive like the First will survive because she has become a part of the First, in defiance of all the forces that have sought to separate her from it. Strength! Please. She has assumed the human birthright. The spirit is no guttering candle. It is a proud thing -- and its flame is ravenous.

[turpalauri]

Roevember 2024, Day 13: Competition

Ena had been looking forward to competing against Thancred and Urianger in the rite of succession. As someone who relished a good challenge, the thought of some friendly rivalry had her feeling pumped up.

But perhaps Thancred should have thought twice before pulling that little stunt of his in the first dungeon of Dawntrail.

(No Thancreds were harmed in the making of this gpose.)

[robynostornwyn]

Roevember 26: Treasure

Of all the treasures Robyn has found throughout her travels, these may be her favorites.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Roevember the most beautiful time of the year...

1: Name

....

But also

The world is full of so many wonderful frogs and Frog loves them all.

[captain-styr]

Styr | ROEVEMBER DAY 1 | Names

The start of Roevember! Say hello to my darling pirate innocent merchant captain Styrdraga Rhetikympfsyn, or Styr for short, captain of the vessel the Enduring Deeds. He's a man who knows what he wants, and what he wants is to grow his merchant empire.

On a personal note, I'm excited for Roevember! I have been neglecting the poor captain long enough. Time to correct that.

[punchelf]

"The name's Coiled Cedar, but you can call me Cici."

Roevember, Day 1 - Name

[the-worrier-of-light]

Roevember 18: Comrades

'Tis true, they've proven themselves stalwart comrades of the highest caliber, and wise well beyond their years. To watch them find their way in the world has brought me joy like nothing else. But remember, Wilfreda... they are also my dear children. Please look after them.

[maggoochie]

RoevemberXIV Day 1 - Name

While people know her as Big-bicep Bertha outside of Nagxia, Bertha’s true Hellsguard birth name is Raven Beast, drawn from her raven hair and her family’s notorious lineage of “beast-like” fighters.

[eidingate]

Roevember Day 2: Roots

Excerpt from a letter to a little sister: I know you don't remember the old village, Fraelona. How we lived in grandmother's old house together, matyr and fatyr working out of the back of the kitchen, repairing odd machinery for the locals and passing ships. I wonder if matyr enjoyed it, settling down in her childhood home after a storied career on the seas.  It was just a little port, not even worthy of mention on most maps of the region, and I think that was why it maintained its freedom for as long as it did. It wasn't worthy of Garlean conquest.  Until suddenly it was. Suddenly its location was of some strategic importance, and ships were filling the sky. You were freshly born then, and looking back now, it is remarkable that we chose to flee despite that. It would have been so easy to stay. It would have been so easy to let the machina rise up around us, to swear our allegiance, to do whatever they told us to if it meant holding onto the lives we had.  But we weren't a family of fishermen or dairy farmers, people who even an empire could recognize are best left continuing at their trades, supplying the supper tables of their new masters. Fatyr knew magitek. They would have taken him at a moment's notice if they knew what he was capable of, and perhaps the Garlean war machine would be just a little more sophisticated today. And so we ran. All our lives, we have run. I wonder if that village even exists anymore, if I would even recognize it amongst the black metal.

[verysmallcyborg]

Roevember Day 23: Legend

I've been in over two thousand Frontline campaigns, starting at the bottom of the food chain and had clawed my way up to earning a snazzy coat, and "The Battleforged" title. Nothin' brings me more joy and satisfaction than popping someone's head as a Machinist when they try to ego challenge me, or taking out an unfortunate soul who is fleeing while their guard is down, and their elixir is as empty as their battle high. Some may call me a legend, for the merciless bloodthirst and being frustratingly elusive, but I simply enjoy the catharsis of what Frontline offers and allows me to indulge in. Even if we are friends, and you are within my scope... ...Good luck.

roevember prompt list

the 2k matches is no stretch....! i like frontlines a normal amount. trust me. also the whiplash of fornax in pvp vs outside of it is so funny because they're normally the equivalent of a nervous cheetah, but in frontlines.....she's that cheetah on the HUNT...!

[oneiroy]

RoevemberXIV #14: Climb

ft. @verysmallcyborg's fornax

[viiioca]

[ day 12 - free day ]

I do so enjoy spending time with Shtola. It seems a ludicrously juvenile thing to pen on a page now that I look at it; these are the words a ten year old might scribble in her journal or speak quietly to some figmental confidant like a doll or imaginary friend. As if it were a precious secret! Ridiculous.

Admittedly, it has been a difficult thing for me to remember that friendship is a true and genuine phenomenon. One might imagine that years spent in the consistent company of others would go far to dispel these spectres of paranoia, but it seems this is not the case; as none of my companions have ever known me as anything but the Warrior of Light, it becomes an enticing form of mortifying the spirit to distill my primary role in these relationships as one of convenient usefulness. Gradually, then, I must collect evidence to the contrary.

An invitation to share in the excitement of a new mystery. Tea or wine taken together for little reason other than the pleasure of amicable company. A walk taken together in a land where we are both something like strangers. The permission to address each other with familiarity, removed of clan signifiers and formal pronouns. Small gifts left in the form of brief moments, inconsequential and intimate in turns, where there is little point in the sharing save to prove a certain security and comfort -- a lonely young girl's nursery rhyme to summon a little friend, or the brief, wavering flicker of some unfulfilled longing for acceptance. "I wonder what my life might have been like had I pursued studies in Old Sharlayan instead," she says, and means to tell me, quietly, what if I had belonged?, and I must recognize the trust for what it is.

It is a curious question, too. What would we have been had our childhoods taken different turns? If Shtola had seized her future by getting on a boat to "the motherland" rather than forcibly burrowing her way into Matoya's tutelage; if my father's inquiries to Sharlayan regarding my "strange affliction" had found a receptive party knowledgeable about the Echo rather than an indifferent School of Medicine. Perhaps she would have gotten that refined, cosmopolitan education she imagines, aloof yet popular by the power of her own charisma, holding tea salons like a queen holds court. Perhaps I might have found myself more rurally bound for the Isle of Val, the then-heart of modern Echo research, scuffing knees and pocketing frogs without a single deportment tutor in sight.

Would we have met? Would we have been friends still? I hope so.

[sleepymoonlady]

Roevember Day 19: Temper

"This must be important business indeed. Though if it concerns anything so underhand as an assassination, I fear I can be of little help."

Even as the negotiations were well underway, Rose still repeated Lolorito's glib little jab to herself over and over again, gritting her teeth all the while. It had been two years since that fateful night--the Bloody Banquet, in all its infamy. Two years since the Scions were disgraced and very nearly wiped out, all unwitting and unwilling pawns in a game of chess played by two warring factions of Ul'dah's Syndicate.

She had accepted--bitterly--that Lolorito's bargain was better for the stability of Ul'dah than the vengeance she had been craving since that night. Well, that wasn't entirely true: she had accepted that Raubahn, Alphinaud, and Nanamo all arrived at that conclusion. And out of respect for the wishes of her friends and closest allies, she stood down. But it never sat right with her. Even after he--through Hancock--furnished the Scions' efforts in Othard with a base of operations and more gil than they could spend. Even after Nanamo had come to Rose and told her that they needed his help, for the sake of Ala Mhigo and Ul'dah both. Rose was a woman of many talents, but neither forgiving nor forgetting were chief among them.

Ever since she was a child--even before she lied about her age to debut as a gladiator on the Bloodsands--she had been a person of action. She loathed passivity, couldn't stand to sit by and watch, and had never been good at forgiving--or at forgetting. She solved her problems, more often than not, by beating them into submission. But the problem of Lolorito--that opportunistic little shite--was off-limits. NOBODY should be above justice. But somehow, he kept managing to be just that. Even Thordan and his lackeys weren't.

She needed something. Anything. Some kind of closure. So when the meeting came to a close, she said she needed to speak with him in private. She concocted some kind of lie that felt right in the moment--damn if she remembered what it was. Something about discussing further contributions to the East Aldenard Trading Company no doubt. As Nanamo left the room, Rose kneeled down to be... closer to Lolorito's eye-level, at least. The man turned on his stool to face her.

"I must admit, champion, I'm curious to hear your idea," he said, with that smug half-smile that never seemed to leave his face--or his voice. "I didn't think you had much of a mind for business." Rose felt the anger that had been festering in her chest rising--gods, how did she expect to talk to this little fucker? She had forgotten how infuriating it was--he spoke at you, not to you. You were never his bloody equal. Did he even know that she had helped run her mums' shop growing up? That she had to learn arithmetic just to help them make ends meet? Not much of a mind for business, indeed. If fuckers like him weren't so greedy, maybe things would have been less tight growing up--THEN she wouldn't need a "mind for business."

"Honestly I rather thought it was too complicated a topic--"

Lolorito's next backhanded observation was ended--rather abruptly, too--by Rose's gauntleted fist crashing into his jaw with a sickening crack, sending him flying off the stool and across the room. Before she knew what she was doing--before she could even consider the consequences--she bounded over the table and pinned him to the ground with her left arm, before raising her right in preparation for another blow.

"I am SICK and BLOODY TIRED of this GODS-DAMNED CHARADE, LOLORITO," she snarled through gritted teeth.

"Have you LOST your MIND?" Came the retort from the merchant, spoken laboriously through a broken jaw. "Have you not thought of the CONSEQUENCES of assaulting a member of the Syndicate!? I'll have you--"

"SHUT UP!" Rose punctuated her demand with a raise of her fist. Her mind spun as she stared down Lolorito. This man KNEW what was going to happen that night. He could have stopped it, showed his hand earlier, anything. But he didn't. He didn't. Did he have ANY idea what he did? What that night had cost!?

Thancred couldn't use magic anymore.

Shtola lost her sight.

Min...

Rose's fist began to shake as she remembered. As she turned the sentence over and over again in her head, still afraid to say it to herself after all this time.

Why her? Why couldn't it have been someone else?

Why not HIM?

Shakily, she finally spoke again. "Her Grace has decided that you're better off to her--to us--alive, Lolorito. Out of respect for her, I've kept my peace all this time."

"But make no mistake, you miserable little shite:" As Rose spoke these next words, the fury in her voice could have shattered stone, and the hatred in her eyes--a hatred only the likes of Gaius, Thordan, or Zenos had seen before--shone brightly enough to melt through steel.

"The second you outlive your usefulness to her? The bloody MOMENT I even BEGIN to suspect that you're harboring any foolish delusions beyond your station?

I will personally deliver you to Thal."

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Hi hey if you made it all the way here uhhhh have a funny:

[robynostornwyn]

Roevember 17: Blood

Please hold on

Please...please stay with me