#role quest

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #28: Deleterious

(A/n: Magic role quest finale! This prompt works really well for chronic hero type wols, and mine kinda is like that. But in a way, it also works for Alisaie, always trying to better herself and take on the WoL's burdens. she pushes herself just as hard so the WoL doesn't have to. So they can both be pretty bad about it aha.

but yay, I said I wanted to finish a role quest during the month and I did! There's always room to add more details and cover more plot points and bridge the gap between chapters more with edits, but that's for later. And I still have a few days left so let's see if I can get one more role quest written for before the end.

Word count: 1963)

“We are in agreement with our strategy then?” Aymeric asked the group, standing waiting atop the stairs of the main hall within the Vault. The windows rattled with the blizzard that continued to rage outside. Even with her continued frustration that the city still seemed beset by this storm during her time there, Alisaie couldn’t help also feeling a touch nervous at how the battle would ensue in the middle of it.

“You and I will hold the beasts attentions while Lady Fhara and Lady Alisaie bear their all against it,” Artoirel recited, casting a glance at the ladies, “Although Lady Alisaie has assured us she can manage with the curative magicks as well, I am willing to provide additional healing if need be.”

She nodded at his assessment.

“I won’t deny I had much to learn to bring my white magicks up to par in my training, but I’ll do my best.”

Beside her, Fhara shuffled nervously, fidgeting with the rings in their holsters.

“We have all our bases covered then,” Aymeric said, though it sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself first. He steeled his shoulders and stood tall, fully in command.

“Let’s move then!”

~~

With the raging snow storms to blanket the uppermost towers of the Vault, Alisaie almost had to wonder if their target would even find them. They were putting a lot of faith in Aymeric’s plan that Profane Fafnir would be summoned forth by a remnant of the former Archbishop.

The man in question stood unyielding despite the storm, crozier in hand, waiting for a response. Everyone simply stood back, forced to wait as well.

Ears open for any sound other than the roar of the wind, waiting for a shifting shape in amongst the flurry.

A particularly strong gust blew through the upper plaza, and with the frost on the smooth floors, Alisaie found herself blown off her feet and slipping into Fhara’s side.

Ever the stalwart ally, Fhara was ready to catch her, keeping her steady and helping her stay on her feet.

Alisaie didn’t have time to respond, in thanks or even to reassert herself, when Aymeric’s voice shouted over the din.

“It approaches! Make ready!”

She could barely see anything, just white all around. But she heard something. Something familiar.

A roar like a dragon, but layered with aching howls and inhuman wailing over the thundering wind.

Then even beats like wings flapping.

Even before Alisaie had her weapon fully unsheathed, she could already feel the energies of Fhara’s aether connecting with her, ready to provide support.

As she always did.

“With me!” came Artoirel’s call, breaking through the din as he charged forth and taking hold of the beast’s attention with a bash of his shield right as it made to land, howling and turning to him.

“At its flank, Ali!” Fhara called, already jumping through the snow fall with grace, unencumbered by the cold, barely minding the slush underfoot. Alisaie took up her own position at the opposite side, unleashing thunder upon the curled tendril hide.

The follow up fire blast felt especially potent unleashed from her focus staff, already seeing the effects of Fhara’s support in battle. Twas only a shame the heat couldn’t linger a moment long, but she had no time to worry about that as the dragon began to take to the air once more.

“Is it fleeing?” she asked, worried that they’d have to take chase and potentially lead to a more populated area.

“Nay, our ruse has angered it enough that it will continue the fight,” Artoirel responded, gesturing for them to keep an eye on the skies once more as he added, “Keep watch, this storm gives it an advantage to attack.”

An obvious fact that didn’t need to be stated, but they turned their eyes to the sky, waiting for any aberration against the snowy gloom. It was a long wait, fearing that the beast had indeed fled, until suddenly-

“Incoming on my left, move!” Aymeric shouted, and with only a moment to spare before the onslaught of frost laded breath began to coat the floor, Alisaie and Fhara raced to get out of the way.

Alisaie almost slipped, struggling to gain purchase, until she felt herself being propelled forward the final way to safety, hearing a hiss of pain behind her. She didn’t even have to know what had happened, immediately turning and preparing a Vercure for Fhara, who was wincing as she hovered a hand over her other arm, covered in an extra layer of frost.

Always the hero. 

Alisaie had to bite back the sharp comment she wanted to make, especially as the dragon landed once more, its layered howling roar echoing against the cobbles as it reignited the attack against Artoirel, its tail lashing out toward Aymeric.

Fhara was already racing back into the fight, pink aether tinged jumps propelling her forward and giving strength to her chakrum throws.

Alisaie huffed, casting another Vercure for Aymeric’s blow from the spiny tail, then leaping forth with her own aether, sword embedding into the beast’s thick behind.

The battle raged, Profane Fafnir’s breath scorching them with ice at every turn, fired into the air to descend upon them, forcing them to spread out lest they catch each other in the assault.

Its wings beat furiously, joining with the stormy winds to try and throw them off their feet and over the edge into the clouds far below.

It let out another screeching howl, piercing through the air such that they all flinched at the sound. Barely above the din, Artoirel could be heard cursing, “Fury, what was that?”

One of Fhara’s chakrams flew over the beast and hit it sharp at the back of its head, causing it to spin around and suddenly snap directly at her. She dodged out of the way, but was immediately winded once more as another piercing howl was unleashed directly in her face. Its massive flank hid the men from view, but Alisaie had no doubt they were trying to regain its attention, to turn it away from them both.

But she still had to do something, and without thinking, threw herself forward, slashing into its exposed neck.

Its piercing scream cut off sharply, however it wasted no time flinging its heavy head into Alisaie’s side, throwing her back and against the floor like she was just a nuisance fly.

She heard Fhara call her name, worried, ears ringing from the blow such that if it weren’t for Fhara’s hands already on her, trying to help Alisaie back up to her feet, she’d think they were malms apart.

Always minding her.

Underneath the white noise and the wind, she heard Aymeric call for aid as more blasphemous monsters crawled over the sides of the tower and into their arena.

“It must’ve summoned them forth! Take care!” Artoirel yelled.

She couldn’t be the weak link. She could already see Fhara taking up a protective spot in front of her.

“Take it easy Alisaie, I can handle them,” Fhara said, already going through the steps that then pushed back on the approaching tide with a final stomp. The endless chattering sounds surrounding them showed no end to the horde.

“The beast is also preparing to attack! We’ll be overwhelmed!” That was Aymeric behind them, and indeed when Alisaie chanced a glance, she could see Profane Fafnir flying above them, energy gathering in its gaping maw.

“I can hold against the blast,” Artoirel stated, already taking up stance in the centre of the ring.

“What of the others?” said Aymeric, even as he took cover behind his companion, Fhara and Alisaie backing up to join him.

“I’ll-” No!

“I’ll handle that,” Alisaie stated, immediately cutting Fhara off, “I’ll have them in one blow!” She turned her back to Artoirel and was already gathering as much power as she could muster into her focus, stretching her aether to cover the area.

Black and White magic building in tandem, ready to rain down like meteors upon her targets. Building and building-

She could feel a final surge of protective energy, layering over the top of Artoirel’s aether. If his were like protective wings encasing them, this familiar magic was like a warm embrace.

Always trying to do what she could. This much Alisaie couldn’t fault her on, as much as it tired her out that she always had to do something.

In the same moment Fafnir’s mighty breath sprung forth, bitter frost nipping at their skin and armour even through the protective layers of several shields, Alisaie unleashed her own attack.

The arena was bathed in white light, almost bathing the battle in silence as the panicked chittering faded with their enemies’ demise. Once the light faded, it was only the four of them, and Fafnir, landing once more and approaching with heavy footsteps.

Alisaie, tried not to collapse from the exertion, using her sword embedded into the ground to keep herself standing. A similar warmth to the pink aether tinged shield washed over her, healing her aches and giving her a momentary burst of vigour.

Fhara was watching over her as she got to her feet again. Always reliable.

Alisaie gave a nod, confirmation enough that she was ready to keep going, and all four jumped back into the fray, surrounding their beast and continuing the fight.

This time, as a fresh gust of wind blew over them, it was Profane fafnir that stumbled, finally tiring in the fight. And with that stumble came an opening.

“Now!”

Aymeric didn’t even need the order, as Alisaie and Fhara lept in tandem.

Fhara’s chakram throw slicing through skin, and Alisaie using the opening to pierce right through.

Profane Fafnir’s head flew back, letting out another one of those layered echoing wails into the sky. Its weakened cry faded, even as it tried to let out another.

And another.

But each cry just saw it go limper and limper.

Until it finally collapsed. Lingering a moment longer than most other blasphemies, long enough that it could stare Aymeric direct in the eye. Whatever silent exchange they may have shared, or whatever Aymeric could glean from its expression, they didn’t know.

For it then vanished into black smoke.

And finally, the snow seemed to stop. The skies cleared, and the sunset appeared through the grey gloom to greet them, painting the city orange.

“It is done,” Artoirel said, sheathing his weapon.

Done. Of course it wasn’t actually done. Alisaie still had work to do. Fhara still had work to do. But they’d succeeded in this much. Ishgard could see some peace for a bit longer, and hopefully the Scions could ensure that peace could continue.

She turned back to Fhara, and already her heart panged to see how exhausted the woman was. Equal parts concern and frustration building in her chest, threatening to burst forth. Always putting herself at risk for others, always taking on every burden. And she knew that Fhara would be off to see to another blasphemy, and she wouldn’t get any rest, despite needing it more than anyone else.

And of course, Fhara could argue much the same about Alisaie, trying to do so much for everyone else, and especially for her. She was no doubt a wreck as well for the stunt she pulled with that magic blast.

But then Fhara smiled back at her. Always so positive.

“You did good. I’m proud of you,” she purred, tail whipping behind her. And Alisaie had to bite back every frustration she had. Now wasn’t the time for that. 

“I tried my best,” was all she could respond with, trying to match that same smile.

They had time yet. They had to hope they would always have time.

[hanseelie]

memories, farewells

[imperial-cat]

Reading Orym discourse on twitter is kinda funny, "it's unfair that he has a trump card and can shut down any conversation with it", like, I don't know but, if I don't have a counter argument in a discussion, maybe this means the other person has a valid point?

[blorbologist]

Y'know, I think I figured out why the Hells still feel like a new low-level party to me, even though they're level 13 and almost 100 episodes in.

I don't quite think it's the lack of conversations, or the fact half the party's plot hooks are big ties to past campaigns - though that definitely plays a part.

... Bell's Hells still primarily rely on quest givers.

Most of their goals are given to them and do not feel organic to the party, and constantly remind us that the Hells are pretty much never the most powerful people in the room. Which is usually something you see with a low-level party.

NPCs offering jobs is not a bad thing; it's a very common plot hook. Matt has been extremely skilled with using NPC quest givers in those two campaigns. Not only do they provide an obvious plot thread, but they can put the party in the path of others (say, the Nein running into the Iron Shepherds while doing a job for the Gentleman and everything that came of that). And the Hells had a solid start with it too - Eshteross was an excellent quest giver!

The problem is that Bell's Hells have never really not had a quest giver.

Maybe it's a byproduct of the more plot-heavy structure of this campaign? But while prior parties have felt like they decided on their course of action and what they prioritized, Bell's Hells feels less like level 13 (13! Level 13!) experienced adventurers and more like an MMO group clicking on the exclamation point over an NPC's head. Where does the plot demand we go next? Who do we report back to?

They're level 13.

At level 13, Vox Machina had just defeated a necromantic city-state to clear their name and Percy's conscience. And, you know, the Conclave just destroyed Emon. No one was explicitly telling the group to gather Vestiges and save the world (though Matt guided them there), and they were usually among the most powerful people in the room. They chose which Vestiges to prioritize, which dragons to tackle when, even if the over-all plot was pretty clear.

At level 13, the Mighty Nein were celebrating Traveler Con (another PC goal, I'll note) after brokering peace between two nations, accidentally becoming pirates and heroes of the Dynasty. The Nein regularly chose what to do based on personal goals, not grand ones. Though definitely smaller fish than Vox Machina at this level, they were very independent and gaining solid political clout.

While we're at it: level 13 is one level lower than the Ring of Brass, who had a huge amount of sway over Avalir. They ended the world, and also saved it, while in the grand scheme of things being only a smidge more powerful than Bell's Hells are now.

Can you really see the Hells wielding that amount of influence, when they're constantly being told what to do next?

The god-eater might be unleashed, so Bell's Hells have no time to do anything but what is asked of them. No time for therapy unless stolen from Feywild time, no travel on foot and late-night watches. They haven't even had time to grieve FCG. Percy was grieved in the middle of the Conclave arc. Molly was grieved when half the party was still in irons.

Matt is in the very unfortunate spot of not being able to give the Hells the same agency as the other two parties. Not only because of the world-ending plot introduced so early on; they are surrounded by characters they know (and the cast knows) are stronger and wiser than them - the familiarity of the past PCs and NPCs is to their disadvantage.

Why would the party reasonably ignore Keyleth's task that will help save the world and go off on a romp? Why would the cast when they know well Keyleth has to be sensible and with the best intentions in mind? The stakes are just too high.

It means that the Hells still feel like they're running errands instead of pursuing their own destiny. Their accomplishments are diminished as just being parts of a to-do list, and any stakes feel padded by several level 20 PCs/NPCs standing 5 steps away ready to catch them.

This isn't Bell's Hell's fault, nor is it Matt's. It could be amended, I think, if the Hells are really left to their own devices for a long period of time without support and shortcuts (like during the party split)... which would be really tricky to pull off at this point in the campaign.

They're level 13. They're big fish, but they're stuck in a pond full of friendly sharks, so they don't feel big at all.

[comicaurora]

So I’m reading The Green Knight for my Medieval English lit class and I went back and watched your Arthuriana videos for fun nostalgia, but I noticed when you were covering the Green Knight you called Arthur tired. Was there a specific reason why you did that or is that one of those things that, if you decided to redo that video, you would change? I just found it interesting bc the poem clearly states Arthur as boyish and his reason for initially accepting the challenge was pride.

The character of King Arthur that lives in my head has a little more "has been through the Arthuriana timeloop too many times" malaise than any proper characterization of King Arthur in the original stories. The story drifts and changes over time but Camelot always falls, because Arthur is a good king - some would say the perfect king - but that still isn't good enough.

[7cfc00]

Cast: Hermie the Unworthy as Theatre Kid with Identity Issues!

[amdapor-keep]

Big bad wolf.

[andi-o-geyser]

all my favourite characters are just me seeing them and going "damn you sure do clean up well but I'd much rather see you grinning with blood between your teeth"

[autumnslance]

If we don't acknowledge the crimes of our kin in all their painful truth, then we do a disservice to their victims living and dead. But if we let people paint them as monsters who did monstrous things─things we believe we would never do─then we perpetuate a different but no less dangerous lie.

-Arenvald Lentinus, Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker, "Laying the Past to Rest" (Healer Role Quests), on dehumanizing those who collaborated with the enemy and the range of victimization and sins that entails.

[blogfanreborn777]

Dungeons & Dragons Curse of Strahd by Jedd Chevrier

[softbean]

little moon

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #27: Memory

(A/n: Full confession, I'm also kinda disappointed in this one, but more so cos I had an idea in mind and I didn't quite get to execute it the way I wanted. So I'm just pushing it through as is to hit the deadline, and it's definitely up for big edits and extra additions after the month is done.

I know people don't like to hear disappointment from a writer cos then they're not interested to read a piece in turn, but I know I could do this one better, I at least wanted to get the building blocks in place to work on later and say its done now.

Takes place after the Reticent piece for the healer quest. I originally wrote that one to be a more general interaction during the quest but I didn't have a timeline placement, till I realised I wanted to write this one with actual plot from the questline, so I had to figure out where it could go. Maybe even with edits I could say Reticent happens after, idk yet.

Word count: 830)

Up early the next day and ready to get started. They had their instructions and where to start looking from Raganfrid, a family that had apparently gone missing in recent days before Alphinaud and Fhara had arrived to help.

They and Fordola had split up, hoping to cover more ground with all three of them going separate ways along the river and up into the mostly abandoned quarries.

Alphinaud’s own path barely showed any sign of activity, only the gouges into the rock face and thin strips of shredded clothing caught in the brush off the beaten path.

He skidded to a stop once the carnage seemed to disappear from the pathway. He tried to calm his panting, listening carefully for anything, waiting for something decidedly more otherworldly to break through the forest din.

It was quiet. A rustle of leaves, birdsong, and wind. The tumbling of rock falling-

That was his only warning before he turned and jumped back, managing to escape the beast as it landed where he stood, claws digging into the dirt. His nouliths were already flying, firing off into the creature and wrenching an inhuman howl from it.

It’s fur bristled and it already started racing toward him, tearing through the ground with each bound, and all Alphinaud could do was continue to fire and side step each charge until it finally began to slow, and lurch from the onslaught.

It stumbled one final time until it collapsed, and burst into black smoke, leaving no further trace, bar a single ring, glinting on the road.

It was certainly expected, but it didn’t stop the surge of disappointment swelling in his chest. He collected the ring and rang Fhara over the linkshell, agreeing to meet back at the settlement to report in.

He didn’t miss the similar tone of despair in her voice, already saying much of the same experience before they even reunited.

~~

The incident had happened all too fast, there’d barely even been any time to try and defuse it.

The young lad had laid eyes on Fordola for one moment, and immediately felt overcome with guilt and panic at the sight of the Butcher, voice screaming regrets that echoed and faded into another twisted abomination. Fordola was doubled over into herself, both from the pain of the initial attack from the beast as she’d taken a blow for a young girl, and from an untimely Echo that left her clutching her head, leaving Fhara to handle the newly formed beast while Alphinaud provided her support, keeping an eye that none of the villagers tried to approach…or in case they also ended up turning.

“Fhara, on your flank!” he yelled, seeing the blasphemy raise an arm to swipe, but of course she was already on it, jumping out of its range and flinging her throwing weapons into its own side. A timely shield from Alphinaud blunted the blow from its tail on her, catching her as it swung around and leaving her winded for a moment. So long as he had her in sight, she wasn’t in any danger.

He could hear Raganfrid and Arenvald hollering orders behind him for the villagers to get to safety in their homes.

Fhara was already having to jump back again from another slash, trying to put distance between herself and its tail.

In that moment, unbeknownst to Alphinaud, not even paying her any mind while she recovered, Fordola shot back in and cut through the beast, directly in its chest. It let out a long whistling cry, then folded in on itself and disappeared. 

The quiet that followed was almost oppressive. No villagers to point and whisper, no animals set off in a frenzied panic, just the pants of the trio as they recollected themselves from another fight.

You’re all alright there?” Arenvald called, rushing over as quickly as he could on his wheelchair. “Everyone else is accounted for in the village. All of them are frightened, but no-one’s turning.”

“Good,” Alphinaud could only answer, already feeling out of breath. Even when he didn’t have to do that much in that fight, the adrenaline rush still left him winded, especially with how busy the day itself had been.

Behind him, he heard Fhara and Fordola, though more so the former trying to reach out to the other.

“Hey, are you ok-”

“I’m fine. Leave me be.” She was already marching off.

“Wait!” Fhara was ignored, as Fordola strode out of the village. In the distance, the villagers were poking their heads out of windows and door frames, watching her depart.

“I can’t imagine what she sees every day,” Arenvald lamented, “It’s pretty hard for her as you can tell.”

Seeing those same villagers begin to gather around and talk, and some casting angered expressions the way she’d disappeared, and then a very conflicted looking mother worrying over her girl - the same girl Fordola had protected - Alphinaud couldn’t help but sigh.

“Some might say it's not hard enough.”

[anxiousapplepie]

We’ve heard a little about Researcher!Bonnie, but not a lot. What’s their deal? How’d they join the party?

For context, this is the AU where Isabeau is the Housemaiden and Odile is the Fighter. And at first glance you'd think "surely those two would be fine on their own, right?" And you'd be kinda right. But Isabeau doesn't have much battle experience in this AU. And Odile, even if she DOES have a lot of battle experience, has a major handicap the others don't find out until later. So fighting Sadnesses was very stressful until a certain kid (trying to escape the curse with their sister) yells at them "WHAT THE CRAB KIND OF STRATEGY IS THAT!?!" and *ahem* 'helps' them win the battle with a lot of swearing and excitement. You'll find out Researcher!Bonnie's deal later. But how they joined the party was basically "this kid has a brain and also functioning eyeballs."

[sandwichsapphic]

“an exceedingly pleasant and amiable young gentleman but… mentally he is negligible - quite negligible” is the Jeeves and Wooster equivalent of “she is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me”

[harmonysanreads]

i'm so sorry for judging you, your honor.

he's so??? nice??? and?? awkward??? 😭 That was NOT how I was expecting the first meeting to be but I'm not complaining at all!! In terms of manner-of-speech, he reminds me of Zhongli but unlike him, he possesses like -10000000 emotional intelligence. That scene of him constantly apologizing to Navia because he doesn't know what else to say or do is now stuck in my head. I'm convinced he'd be the most frustrating male yandere in genshin ever — yes, you can step down now Alhaitham.

Because, not only does he seem to genuinely not understand humans, but also that he's terrible at expressing his own emotions. It'll be so difficult to communicate with him in matters that involve emotions that you'd much rather go to prison (I know I'd just end up crying from sheer frustration). Yes no grandpa, making it rain actually doesn't help. Putting that aside, whew that archon quest...

[starrspice]

Hi hello

It's been a while since I drew a soft Moon so here you go

A rough concept for a future chapter of Arcade Lights

Where you unknowingly meet Moon again for the first time