The Rootless got pulled deep into a world of bloody intrigues, shallow, passing business relationships and prideful exchanges of tainted money. It was an old world. A world which had set its many, far reaching roots into Limsa since centuries. One of these would find its way into Dwassyith Swanra’s little group of hired killers. 

And in the meantime, Vincent Aurora was having the time of his life with Nicky’s powerbase. His collectors were getting attacked, distributors murdered and his shipments either stolen or destroyed. Nicky decided there was only one sure way of finding a trail. You had to follow the money. Coin was born from blood in the gutter, something Nicky knew well. He’d planted lush crops of them himself in the very same way. 

Because Nicky decided to do Dwassyith a favor, and send Friendly off on another head-chopping errand. Sent off to a mine, no less, the last job upon which he’d ever embark. When he arrived, he found a mercenary almost the size of himself. Almost. No one was quite as large as Friendly. A swift, mind-blowing battle ensued, and just as Friendly’s sword was to taste blood, a lever was pulled, sending the giant plunging down a coal chute. Rocks were poured into the hatch, then it was sealed and a cart was placed upon it.
And while the rather large group of mercenaries above was discussing their mercenary things, Friendly was ignoring his broken arm to count rocks. Holding on to a slight outcrop in the stone, he patiently counted every boulder fallen on his head. Counted them from memory. But the fun never lasted for too long, and soon he realized he had to go to work.
So, he came up, slashing and beating his way out of the narrow chute, rising to his full height like a demon out of hell, and announced the number; forty-four. Forty-four rocks. Shame there hadn’t been more, all of them probably agreed. 
An intense, blood curdling, insane fight took place. Friendly was like a storm of violence, holding two archers, two casters, one assassin, two brutes and one sword-man off at once. for what seemed like hours they fought, while in truth it lasted less than ten minutes.
But no one is invincible, and in the end, it was the assassin that got him. She, and their black magician. Friendly’s mighty life of blood and death, ended in a dark place where no one would ever find him. A burnt and smoldering corpse amidst dust and bat-shit. 
Mere hours later, Dwassyith and his murderers came for none other than Nicky The Cripple himself.
By sneaking explosive glyphs into The Passiflora, they hoped to eradicate him and his bodyguards without a fight. It almost succeeded, at least with the bodyguards. 
A master of Black Magic, a scholar of the arcane and a honed, keen mind, Nicky had for years seen to his own safety. Runes and gems, incantations and magical fail-safe systems, made him a place of invulnerability. So, when the establishment collapsed in fire and death, Nicky was kept perfectly safe within a charged, powerful barrier. He ate from the reserves of the world around him, and shook the earth with a disgusting summoning spell.

Enemies, thieves and morons, all rose from shallow graves around the brothel. An inside joke, one of which few would find amusing. But Nicky was one of these few. And just as those unwise revelers and unprepared assassins had been made to do, Nicky knew Dwassyith and his friends would one day rise from those very same graves. Rise to protect the master they had tried to murder in life.
Nicky enveloped himself in a shield, and sent his minions on the hunt. A battle ensued where the assassins attempted to break through the ranks of the undead and reach Nicky. They broke the shield, forced it to collapse, and victory was near.

 But they had all been deceived. For while they had been tangling with worthless, broken bodies, Nicky had been feeding on the world. And when their triumph came, it was to become his victory. Or so he thought, and can we really blame him? He blackened the world, after all. Summoned a comet which blocked out the sun, and sent it slamming into the street.
It was destruction on a catastrophic scale, and had it not been for sheer luck or for some skill in magic, they would all have been obliterated. Dragging himself from the ground, bleeding on the inside, bleeding on the outside. Joints screaming and brain whirling, Dwas fed upon his iron will, and charged the now power depleted Nicky. 
Kai awoke, the mercenary who assisted in taking down Friendly, and joined in very much the same fashion. Two pissed off, blood drunk and raging juggernauts, united as on person for one, single purpose. Nicky lifted his cane, and had he gotten a chance to slam it onto the earth, a lot of things would’ve ended differently.
But Dwassyith’s axe sunk deep into the flesh of the broken body, and Kai finished it by cutting the head off the serpent. As Nicky’s life ran out onto the life-deprived land, the assassins were found, and taken to the hospital. Along with five dozen other wounded, and fifteen body bags. Buildings had been crushed, blown away or simply decimated by the cripple’s power, and if that couldn’t give birth to a new era, then nothing could.