Hydaelyn Role-Players

Half a week earlier than this post was written...

"Right you are, miss! It's always a pleasure to help such a well-established Free Company. I look forward to you submitting its name to our records!" The clerk made a professional bow, though the effect was slightly spoiled by him adding "When you know what it'll be" in an amused undertone. He stood back up in time to see Arblis wave and skitter out of the office.

That was the last of it, she hoped. Both of the impediments and the money. Money was always annoying to take care of - scams to avoid, proper prices to be researched and danced around, bluffs and bribes and negotiating... Arblis smiled to herself. She'd spent enough to even get someone else to do the paperwork "correctly" for her! Sure, it had taken the entirety of the huge windfall she'd had a moon or two ago, plus her own savings that had been sitting around gathering dust- but it was worth it, to have the whole thing done right.

Though she wondered, what would the clip-tails name themselves? That was going to be very important.

-----

The blazing desert sun beamed down upon the roof where Arblis lay, sprawled out lazily across tile and stone. She was fairly certain the wait was going to kill her. Uncountable piles of gil spent buying this plot in the Goblet, getting paperwork waved away, caravan hired, officials bribed- and yet she was still the one stuck here waiting for the supply delivery. A flicker of doubt crossed her mind, and she instantly bashed it away with a thump of her fist against the roof.
"If I am going to rescue dozens of people from a tyrant and spirit them away, I'm gonna bloody do it right!" she defiantly proclaimed to the sky. "No boring wait will stop me, not when I'm this close!"

"Get outta here, you godsdamned cat!"

Arblis flinched and peered over the edge of the building. A midlander with a thin moustache, a clipboard, and a disapproving expression honed by decades of annoyance was leering up at her from the front yard. She stared at him a moment, looked over to the chocobo-led cart now parked outside the plot, and put the clues together.
"Don't give me that, I hired you! Been waiting all day for you to show up!"

The man gives her an unimpressed look. "I'm half a bell early. I could come back later."

Arblis leaps off the roof, landing lightly on the ground and pretending she heard nothing. "WELP, let me show you where I want to hide the food, then I'll help unload everything..."

Location: The Goblet, a newly purchased home

Nihka approached the house, one hand resting on her satchel as tiny jars full of alchemic medicines clanked together.  The cub, Sehki, toddled along behind her and looked at all the houses and fresh planted flowers with the wonder that only a two-year-old can muster. X’orri stood guard near the door, and balked at the sight of the child.

Nihka thought for a moment, and realized that it wouldn’t be X’orri any longer, but simply Orri. They had left the falling stars, and were their own tribe now: a tribe of cliptails, a tribe of ex slaves, the disgraced and abused. The whole concept made Nihka feel sick; she had to push down the revulsion and smile instead. It was over, they were safe: Arblis had even gotten them a home of their own in the Goblet... Somehow...

Though Orri seemed hesitant around Sehki, the cub was anything but. She was  more than willing to show giddy kindness to Orri, waving and singing a greeting with her little tail wriggling excitedly. Nihka explained that Sehki was her daughter, and she wanted everyone in the fledgling tribe to meet her family. She wanted them to trust her, and so she chose to show that she trusted them.

The idea was alien to Orri.

Inside the house the cliptails were everywhere. Some were lounging about resting, others tending to the tasks that came with a new home, and a few were talking to a representative from the weaver’s guild. Calling in every favor she had and then some, Nihka had arranged for each crafting guild to send at least one representative, scouting for possible talent and offering hope for apprenticeship to members of the refugee tribe. It was Nihka’s hope that this be a chance at a new life for the broken miqo’te, that this be the first step towards mending the emotional scars every cliptail bore...

She needed something new to call them, cliptail was wrong. It needed to be something proud and strong, that wouldn’t carry too many ties to the pain and suffering they endured. In her mind she resolved to think of them not as cliptails, but as the Bright Ones.If she could show these broken people kindness, that the world wasn’t the broken place they had been living... then maybe they would shine brightly again, maybe they would become strong and kind. She wanted to kindle their hearts, ease the dying embers back into a roaring blaze.

Before the heart could even begin to heal, though, before they could be as bright as Nihka knew some day they would shine, they needed a warm, safe place to live and the physical health that had been denied to them by their own people.


Nihka went amongst them, offering kind words and medicine. They healed fast, and so all but the most seriously injured were largely healthy now. The only lasting damage were the bones; too many of them had had bones broken and forced to heal wrong to keep them from rising up. Some had lived with these injuries so long it was nigh impossible to fix. Nihka had to beg them to let her break their bones again. She had to watch their eyes fill with pain and fear.

The hardest part...
The hardest part was accepting when one of them rejected her offer, but Nihka knew that just being able to say no was more important than anything else, and so she never pushed. She only asked that if they changed their mind to not hesitate to tell her, knowing that many of them never would.

When she finished treating those she could, Nihka returned to Orri and made the same offer to her. Orri was the proudest of them all, having only recently been clipped and only recently been maimed. Of all of them, she had the greatest chance to recover fully. Nihka expected Orri to question her motives, but found that convincing Orri to undergo such a painful and risky surgery was easier than expected.

Many of the Bright Ones had come to terms with their crippled states, but Orri still had the raw desperation to feel whole again, to walk and run and feel the pride of being a huntress. It was a desperation that Nihka was intimately familiar with.


Nihka took Orri to a plain, comfortable bed and asked her to relax and lay down. Orri complied, and rested with her broken leg exposed so Nihka could work. Fixing broken bones like this, though, tested Nihka’s healing skills to the limit, and Orri’s was particularly bad. She would have to pull out all the stops, mix her medicine and magical skills with the alchemical genius that many of her friends had come to know her for.

She started with a plain-looking white lacquered board, gently placed beneath Orri’s leg. In just the right light, the board seemed to glitter and shine. In truth, she had created it by dissolving unaspected crystals in the viscous secretions of Shroud slugs and formic acid. Adding chalk neutralized the acid and gave substance for the crystalline structures to cling to, keeping them evenly distributed through the solution and giving it that white color.
Once she had dried the substance on the board, it created a blank, neutral aetheric matrix. In theory...

Orri watched curiously as Nihka painted on the board from a jar of thick black ink. Made with gold dust and spoken blood, it was a common recipe used in the creation of arcanist tomes for its aetheric conductivity. She painted out the complex geometries of arcanima, and at each major vertex placed a single goobbue fang. Alchemy was often used to create medicines and poisons, but many people overlooked why the concoctions worked. A string of goobbue teeth held the residual energies of the creature, lending their innate toughness. It’s why they were used in vitality potions. The toughness of these creatures would now be used to enhance the power of her healing.

With a touch and just a hint of her own aether, Nihka ignited the spell. Magic cycled through the geometries, pulled by the gold dust and guided by Nihka’s will. The black ink began to glow faintly, and fear touched Orri’s eyes. Nihka gave her a reassuring smile, and began to explain each step before she took it. It made the process take three times as long, with how Nihka spoke and stuttered, but she didn’t want to scare the patient; the process slowly became a lesson on anatomy, alchemy, and arcanima.

The spell would act as an aether battery, aspected towards the vitality and endurance of a hardy plant. Geometric switchbacks would collect the power and hold it within the matrix as the resonance built up. Aether was life, and nearly every potion she had drew upon and affected the aether of the patient in some way.

The first, a dark red liquid made with a base of distilled morbol spit, was technically a poison. It would draw the strength from Orri’s bones to make them easier to break. She cautioned the girl to be careful for the next few days while the effects wore off, but in order to fix her leg she would have to rebreak the bones. It was going to hurt.

Orri almost scoffed at the idea of pain and drank the potion without hesitation.

Next was a pale cream which she spread on Orri’s leg. It was a mild paralytic, made from scalekin blood and snake venom run through landtrap leaves steeped in a weak acid to make them pliable and porous. In a weak dose such as this, it acted as a vasoconstrictor and would reduce blood loss when Nihka had to cut into Orri’s leg. Orri noted that a great deal of Nihka’s medicines were made using poisons. Nihka couldn’t argue.


What was she doing, going on these adventurers, risking her life? She had made a promise that healing was her goal, her devotion. This was more appropriate, this surgery, than rushing out to the desert and fighting beast tribes. She could almost hear her mentor speaking to her, walking her through the task. Why was she registering with the pugilist guild now? Why was she rushing off to the desert to hunt down Anstarra’s family? She should be staying home, staying safe, and tending to the wounded when they come back from their adventurers.

But there was something inside of her that refused to be kept like that, an anxiety and a need to travel and move that refused to let her stay a housecat. The urge to fix the problems, to be proactive, to not wait for Zarann to come to her. She couldn’t explain it, that feeling.

She couldn’t wait at home to heal the injured. If she could heal the hearts of those who threatened them, then no one would end up hurt to begin with. The world would be a safer place. For her, for her daughter, for her fiancé, for the family she had collected.

She cut between the muscles, careful not to tear. Small trickles of blood dripped down onto the board, and sizzled with the power of the magic it had collected, the matrix approaching saturation. It required tools, gripping and twisting with a hard jerk, to break the weak joints where the bones had improperly healed.

Orri didn’t even cry out.

The next was a hardening agent, applied with a narrow syringe deep into the wound. Nihka explained as she applied it. It would be catalyzed by the blood in Orri’s own body, causing it to harden and create a rigid lattice. It was designed to break down slowly over time and provide nutrients that would promote bone recovery.

Finally, it was time to release the aether that had been building up. She drew a single line onto the board, linking two vertices of the spell and reversing the polarity of its flow.  Light flashed as the magic released. The neutral matrix was completely ruined, crystallizing into strange shapes as the aether warped the woman’s body, suffusing with healing energy that would help to bind the bone together. It would still be weeks before everything was fully intact.... but her kin all healed remarkably fast. Perhaps it wouldn’t even be that long.

Nihka slumped back in the chair and surveyed the scene. Goobbue teeth burnt beyond recognition, the prototype aether matrix similarly destroyed as the spell she’d drawn on it etched into the physical structure of the crystals.

Orri would need to stay off the leg as best she could for the rest of the day. It would take time to heal, even for her. But it was easy to see what An often spoke of, the aetheric mutability inherent in the falling star blood. Even her weak healing magics and alchemy were able to affect significant change on the patient.

Now it was just a matter of waiting and recovery and hope.

The room was empty.

In a way, Renaea had been expecting this. Nihka hadn't shown up in a few days, now. It wasn't like the normally safe woman to just disappear for a few days. Brushing her fingers over one of the many books littering the room, she felt... Worried. Alone.

She could still see the man's dying look. The man whom she'd protected with her body, shielding him from harm. The man who had started the fight by attempting to shoot the Lynx Tribe. Spear after spear had hit her, but she'd pressed on. And yet he'd died anyways.

"Did I do the right thing? I failed, Nihka... I couldn't save him. I stopped the bullet that might have killed the warband leader. I..." She shakes her head.

"How many have I just doomed to die?"

Don’t arm the criminals, they said.


Fools, they were. Bereft of vision. For who are the real criminals in Ul’dah? The rich and royal, hiding behind the ranks of the Flames and Brass Blades.


Exactly.


Evangeline brushes a lock of hair from her face, leaning down as she taps the delicate machinery into wood. That is the rule of this world, the powerful control the powerless, and call their oppression justice. Those women were not criminals, only victims of a war between the tyranny of the savage, and the tyranny of the civilized.


The two halves of the blade fit together almost perfectly, the thin layer of gold on each having but a hair’s breadth between them. She’d tried other materials, but only gold carried the aether well enough for her needs. Too soft to use for the blade, the edge of the lance was all matte darksteel, ground to a leaflike point that allowed stabbing and slashing.  The blade was long, for a spear, almost a glaive, and the area where it meets the shaft bulges out, a strange mechanism borrowed from the IronWorks new bolt action rifles.


More gold traces down the hardwood of the shaft, embedded below the surface of the wood to protect it from damage. She had originally wanted the entire spear to be metal, but too much metal interfered with the effect.


She was impressed with the results, despite the specificity of her orders, the parts fit like clockwork. Clearly the craftsmen of Ul’dah had skill that at least equaled their greed. However the true part that mattered, was the mechanism sheltered under the darksteel lancehead. The mechanism, that if her guests were to be believed, could only be obtained by a god and his chosen.


In the end, it was simple really. The life of a materia was measured in decades, usually. The small stones filtered the bearer’s aether as it flowed through the weapon or armor, adding speed, or strength, or even focus. The more refined the gem, the more aether that could be used. However what if one did not care about the life of the gem.


Could all its power be drawn out at once?


She fingers the ‘ammunition’, a brass and glass cartridge. Where firesand would lie on a normal round, instead glowing blue ceruleum sloshes behind a glass viewport. Instead of lead or copper, the tip is a softly sparkling materia. This one was for strength, and rather low quality. If used typically, its effect would be barely noticeable. However she didn’t plan to use it typically.


With a soft click she slides back the bolt, the cartridge rasping slightly as it enters the chamber. The bolt slides forward, the round seating itself with a metallic purr. Then, she pauses a moment, briefly considering the damage the darksteel lancehead will do to her body if it the ceruleum explodes, propelling fragments through her at a terrible speed. Then she remembers that Klyn is home to put her back together again.


Evangeline nods to herself, cradles the lance in her arms, and pulls the recessed trigger. Something slides forward in the spear with a bang, and she almost drops the thing as clouds of steam billow forth. A pulsing red glow builds between the gaps in the spearhead, and then moments later, flashes down the length of the weapon. The gold inlays pulsed with power, and through them, her hand and body. Suddenly the spear seems weightless. She gives it a few practice swings, her body thrumming with power as the tip leaves red afterimages in her eyes.


Then, but a few minutes later, it is gone. The red lines slowly fading back to gold. Evangeline yanks back the bolt, the cartridge flying out and lying smoking on the floor. The Materia that once glistened so proudly was now cracked and blackened, the ceruleum payload pushing decades worth of energy though it in mere minutes.


Evangeline checks the lance for defects, it will require several more tests before she’s comfortable letting X’Cinna use it. Something tells her the woman will not use it delicately.


The Elezen’s face slips into a wolfish grin as she slides in the next payload, this one a materia for speed.. The Radiance, X’cinna had called it. The well from which her Nunh drew his power. The bolt slams forward again, and Evangeline pulls the trigger, filling the spear and her with power once more.


She’d have to thank him, he gave her such a good idea after all. People did always say gods were inspirational. Maybe this is what they meant.

The sound of a flute intoxicates the air.

Not much was to be said of recent events, thought Leanne. Once more to her chagrin, she was hunting a voidsent, this time, one taking the guise of a little girl. With the mannerisms of a little girl.

She -was-, a little girl. Of exacerbated malice, a twisted, morbid sense of humor, and the whimsicality, the "innocence" of a little girl.

Leanne exhales, and shakes her head. "You see one thousand things while traveling, you think yourself ready for any turn of events, but there is always a thousand and first surprise waiting."

The sound of a flute polluted the air.

The Falling Stars. What manner of massacre they committed for such a being to born within the realm? Why herself were so friendly with people capable of committing atrocities of such level, Leanne thought.

Was Eva right in taking custody of two of them? Do they really deserve a second chance? Or simple condemnation? Does she have to blame the way they were taught to see the world? Or simply blame the person for the conscious genocide? A phrase is uttered within the recesses of her mind. Spoken by herself.

"Always offer redemption to those seeking redemption."

Leanne shook her head. "It is not quite that easy."

They had to be stopped though. Either through good, or bad. She could hope it would be through good means. It can happen. Leanne proved as much. As so did some of her friends. Yet, she had to accept the possibility, perhaps the inevitability, of the bad. Leanne looks to the myriad of papers scattered over her desk. Drawings of Starlight, the voidsent kid, and notes regarding her. Neatly piling them up, she pushes the notes aside, settling new, blank ones in front of herself.

"Peace can be offered. But if not accepted..."

...The sound of writing scratched the air.

Aigiarn bubbled in the hot spring, feeling her wounds soothed over by the spring water at Camp Bronze Lake. She had heard of the healing properties of the hot springs at this Maelstorm affiliated  It has been awhile since that expedition up north. While her skills were successful in saving the airship as it descended, the battle with the Kaiser Behemoth afterwards left her incapacitated and covered with wounds. Afterwards, she found herself back at camp within the infirmary; apparently one of the dragoons had carried her back to camp. She remembered a gentle, yet gruff voice and it carried the memories of a dragoon infused with the power of the Maximus she strove to replicate, diving into the raging Kaiser Behemoth like it was another of the Dravanian monstrosities, that the dragoons had sworn to destroy, during the last battle for Ishgard. She recalled that gallant figure and smiled happily. “Ser Orrin was it? How I would like to replicate his power.” She’s been developing this weird fetish recently, fascinated with the supernatural strength of Eorzeans. From Flame Captain Maximillian Maximus to Orrin Halgrin, was it? Aigiarn frowns as she remembers that dragoon, whom carried her gently back to camp. 

They shared a discussion afterwards, where she expressed her thanks. Aigiarn blushed as she recalled their discussion, he seemed really interested in what she had to say and had a gentle, yet firm demeanor. She regretted calling him a pervert at the very beginning of their exchange, when he touched her tail; although it couldn’t be helped, since it was a self-defensive response created by her time here in Eorzea. He accompanied her to Camp Bronze Lake for recuperation; in the process, she stayed in a hot spring far too long and passed out. When she came, she spotted him surrounded by beautiful women. “He was with those two women, I thought it rude to interrupt, I wonder if they are his mistresses,” Aigiarn muses. A strong and seasoned dragoon like him would surely have many admirers as well as partners, the image of his strong and noble physique embracing his admirers like a Ishgardian highborn seizing a lowborn maid makes her squeak with delight. as she twacks the water behind her with her tail. The water sprays around her as she absentmindedly tailslaps the water, *cough*, “Could you stop that madam?” a voice rings out. She looks around and spying nothing but a strange green rock, thought to herself, “I thought I heard someone talking?” 

A response came back, “I’m right here, you silly girl.” The unusual green rock slowly turned. Aigiarn gasped! The green rock had two big amber eyes set upon a smooth, perhaps scaley head. It stared at her like a big round rock and a strange obscene urge came over Aigiarn. The green thing with big amber eyes recoiled, “What?” A splash of water and Aigiarn was upon it, squeezing the thing’s adorable green round head into her towel-wrapped chest. “Unhand me you woman of loose morals!” The little green thing flailed in Aigiarn’s loving but unforgiving arms. Having her fill of hugging, Aigiarn eventually loosened her grip and let go of the cute green thing. It staggered around the spring in a confused state, before plopping down into the water. After a little while, the cute green thing raised it’s head and stared at Aigiarn, before…. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! YOU LOOSE WOMAN! RUBBING YOUR BODY ALL OVER ME! I SHOULD STRONGLY CHASTISE YOU FOR HARASSMENT!” The angry green thing let loose a shout that shocked nearby patients into flight. Aigiarn blinks, “What? Ah!” She blushes, “I’m Sorry! You were just so cute and round! And I had to deal with a lot of stress recently!” The green thing twitched at the word ‘cute’, before shaking its’ head, “I once had the most excellent physique of the renowned Scholars of Nym, yet now I have been reduced to a hug toy for childish girls.”


The green thing shook it’s head once more before staring at Aigiarn with it’s round yellowish eyes, eliciting another burst of desire barely repressed by her embarrassment and the thing’s obvious dislike for cuddling. It looked up at Aigiarn, it’s eyes narrowing as it attempted to look cross, “I am Ibes Habes, formerly a pre-eminent Scholar of Nym and currently, a very unfortunate Tonberry.” Aigiarn looks at the cute Tonberry thing in puzzlement, “A tonberry?” Ibes stares at her with his big yellowish beady eyes, “Yes, you ignorant woman! Haven’t you realized the importance of information gathering, even in a place of leisure!” Ibes sternly shook his round arms at Aigiarn. “I suppose none of the residents bothered telling you new arrivals; since death of the plague here, we Tonberries have been relatively accepted, although many of my kin feared assault for our monstrous appearance.” Aigiarn responds, “I… I don’t think your monstrous, Ser Ibes.” Ibes stared at Aigiarn, “It may be so, yet I doubt your highly questionable assessment of our looks should be valued. At the very least, they allow us to wander around this settlement after the incident.”


Aigiarn stares at Ibes, whom stares back. This continues for about ten minutes, until Aigiarn started to feel hot again from staying in the hot spring water. “Ah.” She broke her stare and climbed up the platform where Ibes was. The tonberry turned and looked at her intensely, Aigiarn involuntarily moved to cover her bosom, “Wha… what are you looking at?” Ibes chuckled, “So you have some modesty after all.” Ibes’s beady tonberry eyes examines Aigiarn, “Hmm, scales, horns, only natural. Mmm. You must be one of the scale folk from the greater continent, if I am correct.” Aigiarn blinks, “Scale… folk? Ah.” Her tail swishes nervously, “I am a Xaela! My name is Aigiarn Kha of the Kha Tribe!” The tonberry scratches his chin, “Ah, a racial name and tribal identification. And what is your occupation?” Aigiarn stares at Ibes briefly, before declaring, “I am a Magitek Engineer of Garlond Ironworks, and part-time adventurer!” Ibes raises his arm in a thoughtful manner, “Magitek? Hmm. Ah. I recall hearing about it. Mmm. Interesting means of bypassing natural aetheric limitations, through the mechanical manipulation of tangible aetheric resources. Little wonder you are so excitable, given that only the insane or overconfident would pursue such a unstable pastime.” Aigiarn’s tail shoots upward in anger, “Hey! Magitek is a wonderful and innovative field of study!” “It is a field that pushes the ambitious and foolhardy to overstep their limits, as the Mhachi with their void magicks,” Ibes interrupted. 

“The Mhachi? You mean those who pursue ‘black magic?’” Aigiarn mutters, “Ho? So you know of them?” Ibes responds. “Only in my studies of the War of the Magi.” “Ah.” The tonberry spoke with a tinge of sadness, “Poor Nym weathered many storms, but ultimately found its’ walls grinded into dust. Our memories nearly lost.” “Hmm, Nym?” Aigiarn exclaims, remembering the word from her trip up north. “Did I stutter, did I not announce myself a pre-eminent Scholar of Nym! DO YOU NOT KNOW WITHIN WHICH RUINS THIS SETTLEMENT RESIDES?” The tonberry pounces and slaps Aigiarn’s cheeks with its round hands, which held quite a bit of force, despite the tonberry’s diminutive stature. “Ow! I’m still wounded you know!” Aigiarn yelps. She splashes water over the site the Tonberry slapped her. “I’m surprised such a thick-skulled girl like you would get hurt from some proper discipline.” Ibes bluntly stated, as Aigiarn frowned and protectively covered her cheeks with her hands.

“Although I am interested in how a girl like you would suddenly express interest in the prestigious name of Nym.” Ibes waddles closer as Aigiarn draws back, still covering her cheeks. “How about it? If your story is interesting enough, I may just forgive your ignorant transgressions, thick-headed girl,” waddles close and stares into her with his big beady Tonberry eyes. Aigiarn seizes up as she fights the urge to embrace that diminutive, yet embraceable form. “Yes…, this strange Miqo’te woman calling herself the Whiteseer mentioned the name of Nym.” Aigiarn tells him of what she knows, of a sept of miqo’te supposedly imposed upon by ancient Nym; as a side, she also recalls her encounter with similarly phenotype miqo’te in Thanalan, and notes the discussion of her comrades regarding materia absorption. The tonberry seems absorbed in thought, “This feels somehow familiar, as if I should recall it.” The tonberry narrows its beady eyes as he tries to remember something, “Hmm, perhaps there is something, but time is required. The rancor has left its mark on me, as did the passing of centuries.” 

“Oh!” Aigiarn perks up, her tail shooting up in excitement. “This is direct aetheric biological manipulation; from what little I recall, it was a unfortunate field that emerged out of the Kingdom’s desperation against the Mhachi.” Ibes put his right round hand under his chin as he thought, “I had presumed that the projects to have failed, given the state of Nym as it is now. Fittingly, it was a mistake to mirror the reckless abandon of the Mhachi in the vain hopes of outwitting the void mages.” The tonberry shrugged, or at least it seemed like a shrug to Aigiarn. “Yet, this fascinates me. It has been so long since I underwent a intellectual pursuit. Mmm.” Ibes placed his round hands once more upon his chin, a scene that invoked her old mentor in Garlemeld. “Ah. Ser Ibes, you will look into this?” Aigiarn looked on with a bright smile, which made Ibes do a double take at Aigiarn with his cute round tonberry head. “That smile… Mmm, I see why anyone bothered to teach you. You have that shining look, which reminds me of myself in the old days.” 

“Yes. I will look into this, although I cannot guarantee I would find anything, nor would be certain it would be of interest to you.” Ibes stated. Aigiarn exclaimed, “Oh! It would be interesting to me, it is my dream to learn all about the diversity of technologies created in Eorzea!” Ibes stared at Aigiarn, “Well, all would be quite improbable for one with a definitive lifespan,” he spoke. “But your eagerness is noted.” The tonberry stares off at the Wanderer’s Palace in the distance, “if you or any of your associates have time, it would be pleasant for us to have visitors, if they do not mind our looks. Perhaps something would have been uncovered about these miqo’te and the fate of our ill-conceived desperation. I will confer with what colleagues I have. I will investigate this matter on the side as we negotiate with the local settlements, Limsa was it?” Ibes rotated and plopped into the water, moving to leave. “May we meet again, Miss Aigiarn Kha.” Aigiarn squeaked as she was splashed by the water emitting from the tonberry’s descent. “Ah! Yes, Ser Ibes. Oh! May I make a request before you leave?” Ibes turned to regard Aigiarn whose tail is swishing about with anticipation, she beheld Ibes’s cute round head, staring at her with his beady oval eyes, just above the waterline, “Yes?” “Can I hug you?” “No.” “Aww.”

"...could 'ardly believe my eyes. Who'da thought it, yeah?" Gunther leaned an arm against one of the pillars of the entry gate, an action which allowed him to loom over the girl standing there, and to tickle her chin with his other hand, as he did now. Her white tail flicked in the air, but the much larger hyur barely noticed; her sort were always flicking their tails this way and that. He knew what they liked.

"Who'da thought my fav'rite girls'd end up here! In th' bloody Goblet of all places!" Gunther laughed, and flashed a grin over this one's head, at another pair who were sitting in the shade. "'ow'd you end up in this house anyroad? Someone buy you all up? Knew it was too damn good t'be true, out there'n the desert. Twoscore whores prettier'n any an honest Blade could 'ope to afford on a year's wages, jus' ripe for the pickin', 'specially once them damn Flames moved out." He leered at her, tilting her chin up to look at her pretty eyes. She blushed a bit, and that was damn appealing. "What was it you went for, that first time? Slice of aldgoat steak? Up for an encore-ey, Whorri?"
Gunther laughed crudely at his own wit.

The girl shook her head, drawing her chin out of his grasp.
"This.. my name is Orri. And is different now. Is not prisoner. Clipped are not... refugees. Bright Ones, now." Her voice had that same rasping huskiness from before, and Gunther shook his head, barely listening to the words. Just the sound of it got his blood roiling, and other things stirring.

"Yeah yeah. Look, whore." He completely ignored the spear she had in her hand, as before; there was no way she'd use it. Instead, he grinned, and moved up close, forcing her to move back against the pillar, cornering her. He lowered his voice, smirking. "I get it. You moved to the city, got a taste o' civ'lized life, taste o' gil, you gotta up your rates. Hey, I get it, welcome to Ul'dah." He reached down, suddenly, putting his hand between her legs; she gasped. "But don' try to give ol' Gunther a line 'bout things bein' differen'." He moved in closer, and she squirmed, her leathers rustling against the stone. "I know what you tribal girls are like. Hot t'be touched, hot t'be fucked. So why don'tcha jus' stop tryin' to run up the price, an' get on yer knees where you be-"

His next words were lost in a high-pressure rush not unlike a squeak, forced out as Orri shifted her stance and lifted her knee with force akin to a chocobo's kick. The massive hyur crumpled to the ground, gasping and retching; the miqo'te girl watched him, tail lashing, cheeks still flushed. Then she cocked her head, took two steps, and kicked him in the stomach so hard that he actually vomited, his breakfast streaked with blood. Then she stepped back, watching him, her face once more expressionless and alert.

"Is different now," she insisted, without raising her voice, as though continuing a conversation in all civility. "Orri's.. my leg is healed, and other Bright Ones learn things. We learn value, of us, of skills, from Guilds. We learn value of our bodies, of sex." She casually poked the man's side with the butt of her spear, making him flinch. "You cheated us, you and other Blades. But like say; is Ul'dah. Yes? Well, no more cheating. If Blades want sex, pay fair price, and us, only if we want it too. If not, go away." She poked him again, in the rump this time, and he began working himself to his feet, wiping off his mouth, face red in a rage.

"Y-you Twelve-damned who-"
He was cut off suddenly, red turning to white as faster than he would have believed the tip of her spear was at his throat. He froze. She tilted her head, her expression... chillingly empty of anything like anger. He knew he could die, right here and now.
"Is not a nice word, Orri learned. Is insult." The spear lifted, and suddenly he was on the tip of his toes. "Gunther can leave now." A slight pressure, pushing him back.. slowly.. until he got clear, at which point he stumbled back several paces. Then several more, getting a safe distance before turning and snarling.

"You.. you sodding whores ain't heard the last o' me!" He wiped his mouth again, stumbling away several more steps. "This ain' over!" On he went, cursing, and staggering, the girl watching him from the gates of the estate the whole way.

When he was out of sight, one of those who had been in the shade came over to Orri, and punched her in the shoulder. The spear-holding girl blinked, and looked at her.

"Why scare him off? This one might have liked to play with."
Orri grimaced, and shook her head, tail lashing.
"We must not.. not act like Clipped, Naya. Are Bright Ones now, like Nihka says. Bright Ones are worthy of respect." She said the words with a tone almost of ritual, as though speaking a memorized verse or coda, or perhaps a creed. Naya huffed, but nodded. "Bright Ones are worthy of respect."

They both looked out in the direction where the hyur had departed. At length, the unarmed girl pursed her lips. "Why does respect mean no sex?"
Orri growled. "Naya..."
"You wanted him, too. How long since you have lain with a male?"
"Shut up."
"We could have shared him."
"I will stab you..."

In the Goblet - at the House of the Clipped/Bright Ones

X’cinna walked down the street to the house of the ‘Bright Ones,’ as they call themselves these days. These Clipped of the Falling Stars have been liberated from their sept and openly reside within the Outsider territory of Ul’dah. Cinna approached the house, where a sentry looked outwards, while three additional individuals could be seen nearby talking nearby in the shade. Unlike the previous night, Cinna approached openly and immediately visible towards all, especially those at the house. The sentry spotted her and alerted the others, two of them took once glance at Cinna and scurried into the house, the other laughed at them and glanced at Cinna. “Hello Naya, Hello Orri,” Cinna greeted the sentry and the remaining woman. “You again, why have you returned? Did you forget something on the lawn?,” Orri suspiciously responded. “Come now, Orri. X’cinna is a ‘Bright One’ now, at least in spirit,” Naya murfully states, her clipped tail swishing as she sat with a few gil spread ontop the lawn table. Orri hissed, “She may be outcast, but she has not been Clipped. I remember what you did, X’cinna. What you did to me!” Cinna frown and lower her head slightly, “I’m sorry Orri. For what I did to you, while you were being clipped. If you’ll like, I can open up a wound and let you throw alcohol into it.” Orri recoils in shock, “I… no. Nikha will be sad. And X’orri, who enjoyed such things is dead. You killed her. But after listening… Orrin… maybe…” Cinna advanced and stepped on the grass, the action snaps Orri back into the present, drawing her spear, “You step on our territory, X’cinna! If not for Nikha’s grace, I would have killed you right here?!” “Oh, I see you still got some fire left in you,” Cinna smirked back at Orri. “What about a warm-up? I’ve been getting bored recently.” “A warm-up?” Orri responds in confusion, while Naya’s eyes open wide. “Yes, a warm-up,” Cinna draws her spear as Orri involuntary hisses and takes a defensive posture. “Orri of the Bright Ones. I X’cinna Ares challenge you to a test of strength and skill!” Cinna twirls her spear around and brandishes it at Orri. 

Orri stared at Cinna’s display in shock, alongside Naya. This continued for about a minute before Naya responds, “This… this… you would offer this to a Clipped? No. Orri. She may seem as one of us, but her body is a Warrior still!” Naya stands up from the table, accidentally knocking some of her precious gil on the grass. Orri remains still, her body still in a defensive stance; however, tears could be seen streaking down her face as her body shook, “You… X’cinna… you could see me as a warrior? Orri?” “Yes. Orri. You are strong, strong enough to become Orri despite being Clipped. Many others would have chosen death, preferred death.” Orri shook her head, still crying somewhat, “No. Orri. Was afraid of death.” “Yes. Orri was. But all living things fear death, I learned this from the Outsiders. From Nikha. But that is fine. It means we are alive, Orri…” Cinna shudders somewhat, surprised at her own words. “The Warlord… we… stripped you of worth to the Sept, but you… valued your life, yourself. You wanted to live, Orri. You wanted… something… for yourself.” Naya continued standing there in shock, while Orri stared straight at Cinna. Tears still streaked down Orri’s eyes, but her eyes seem to brighten. A spear twirls through the air and is brandished at X’cinna. “X’cinna Ares, I Orri of the Bright Ones, accept your challenge!” A confident smile appeared on Orri’s tear-streaked face, spurring Cinna’s memories of the past, she could see traces of a almost predatory smirk on Orri’s face. “Naya, go inside and tell the others. Tell them not to be alarmed of our challenge,” Orri instructs Naya. Naya nods before hurrying into the house, her white-clipped tail trailing behind her. 

Cinna and Orri face off on the lawn, the same lawn by which Orri encountered the dragoon in the previous night and barred their spears proudly at each other. From the house windows and by the doorway came a multitude of curious (and scared) eyes of the Clipped within. The wind blew across the lawn, blowing Cinna and Orri’s hair along, their tails twitching and muscles tensing. “Naya, you give the signal,” instructed Cinna. A sound came from behind the slightly opened door, “Ah yes, X’cinna.” A few seconds passed, “Start~”, the word sent Cinna and Orri immediately lunging at each other. Their spears intersect and they both evaded at the last second; a series of gasps came from the house as the Clipped watched. Landing on her feet, Cinna smirked and reached for one of the bundles of sticks on her back; Orri widened her eyes and dodged the thrown stick. “Still like to toss things, X’cinna!” Orri lunged once more at Cinna, whom brought her spear up as she evaded Orri’s lunging thrust. “Always wanting to get up in everyone’s business, Orri!” Cinna suddenly rammed her kneel into Orri’s distracted gut, and she spat out as the kick sent her flying upwards. Cinna positioned her right leg in a diagonal position and smacked into Orri with her strength, propelling her skywards. Cinna lunged up with her spear, as more gasping and crying came from the house. Cinna smiled viciously at her spear raised at the flying Orri. 

However, “X’cinna, your not the only one who learned new tricks!” Hefting her spear while in-mid-air, Orri twisted, using the weight of her spear to spin and with a shock, she rocketed down, forcefully thrusting her spear ground-ward by fortifying her body and lunging mid-air with all her abnormal strength. Cinna gasped as she tried to evade Orri’s rocketing strike and the latter spear passed by Cinna’s by a ilm, slicing pieces of her clothing before smashing into the ground. Cinna jumped back as she beheld the result of Orri’s crashing dive, a small crater could be seen where Orri landed, her spear surprisingly intact despite its head wholly buried in the ground. Orri knelt on the ground, panting but proceeded to look up at Cinna, there was a mirthful smile on her face as she stood up and with one swift motion, pulled the spear out of the ground. “You are someone new, Orri,” Cinna replied. “Your as serious as ever, X’cinna,” Orri responded, “Ah. The lawn.” Cinna and Orri looked down at the crater, “Nikha will get mad if she comes back and see this. I do not think we would be able to keep this a secret.” As if waiting for that statement, cries of joy and applause came from the house, “Wow Orri! That was great!”, “You sure showed that warrior!”, “Do you think… we could…?!?”, “Orri!”, the praise went on and on as Orri beamed at the house and her compatriots. Cinna on the other hand, looked rather annoyed, “Not a cheer for me avoiding that strike, although I supposed it couldn’t be helped…,” she muttered. Cinna brandished her spear once more, “Let us continue, Orri!” Orri looked back from the house, “Of course, X’cinna. I’m not finished with you yet!” Taking up their positions, they bared their skills at each other and began again.

Afterwards, the lawn has a suspiciously barren patch on it, although if any one asked, Orri would respond that she got bored and decided to dig a little. Cinna returned to the Ravens’ house with her clothing torn up, exposing herself to a unfortunate seeker-turned-keeper in the process. 

This is a cleaned up log of Skype RP with Orrin, Nihka, and Anstarra. Things have been moved around/edited for the sake of ease of reading and a more written narrative experience


Several Days after the failed northward expedition into Xelpahtol


There was blackness. Though Orrin did not know it, he was unconscious for a while. Maybe his captors kept him that way, maybe it was the toll of his fight or maybe the toll his inner dragon took upon him was getting worse and worse. Regardless, time seemed to hold little meaning in this place; there were no windows in this subterranean gaol. 

The walls are coated with crystal and ice, the air is cool but not freezing, and light seems to come dimly from the walls and ceiling. The chamber is small enough, fifteen fulms in any direction. There was a pot for necessities and some layered mats as a bed. Orrin is dressed lightly, left only with his tightly bound slacks that made up the bottom-half of his under armor and basic bandages around his chest. His weapon and armor were nowhere to be found and though he was not shackled by the wrists and ankles, he was, for all intents and purposes, a bloody heap. 

Face down, his broken body laid upon the cold unforgiving ground in a puddle of his own blood that managed to seep through his dressed wound. It was black from the exposure to the air and cold and the scent of copper would be readily apparent even to a Hyur and so could only be imaginably overwhelming to a Miqo'te. He was shivering, his breath could be seen condensing against the floor.

In the distance, footsteps could be heard echoing in the distance, bouncing off the shining walls of what was known as the Crystal Caves. Nihka approached, dressed for cold weather and wearing a fire aspected choker like a strange negative image of her fiancée.

X'indro is about; Nihka saw him briefly, a laid-back-looking male with short, spiked hair and crystalline pink eyes. Though Nihka did not know him, he did stand out because a pair of similar-looking warriors tailed him, one male and one female. He was busy, leaving a meeting with the Nunh, but still waved amiably at Nihka on the way, giving her an interested look.

Nihka steps into the doorway of the prisoner's room. She hadn't expected anything like this... but in exchange for free passage and the ability to treat the clip tails (and freedom to teach them things) she is somewhat beholden to the whims of the Nuhn.

Nihka taps lightly on the wall. Something to intentionally give away her presence so as not to startle the patient. Nostrils flared, and through the scent of blood she recognized something familiar .Her ears drooped completely against her head, and she approached. Recognizing the horrible state of her patient, Nihka set to work without any further attempts to announce her presence. Kneeling beside him and pulling out medical supplies, medicine she'd brought with the intent to share with the clipped... looks like it might need used. She had some clean bandages... maybe not enough but hopefully…

She checked his pupils, pulse, all vital signs, and worked to clean the injuries and apply her typical alchemic salve. Not enough to instantly cure but definitely help speed recovery. She worked quietly, diligently, and efficiently, lost in thoughts about what could have happened.

Orrin’s pulse was weak, but steady, she quickly realized that the Dragoon had seen worse days, deeper wounds. She had treated far worse as well. It was the sheer negligence of his captors that had left him in this state. Usually Orrin would be able to limp back home for proper physicking and treatment. Not this time however, beaten and then dragged over the Xelphatol Tundra had worsened the injury, an old wound on the verge of healing had reopened under his left peck and was the reason for the hemorrhaging. His fingers were curled into gnarled, clawed positions, his body was tense and wound like spring under pressure.

Nihka grimaced, and pulled out supplies for stitches, lots of gauze, and some of her more potent healing concoctions, force feeding the unconscious Dragoon with a gentle touch and massage to the throat. Soon enough the Hyur relaxed thanks to the salve. Though he still shivered, being left in a pool of chilled, coagulated blood had done him few favors.

If his captors were negligent, Nihka was the opposite. Once she was sure the bleeding was stopped, she took off her coat to drape over him in order to keep him warm while she got up to ask the guard for some blankets. Naturally such a request would end up fulfilled by a cliptail... and not the proud huntress standing guard. Nihka would eventually procure (rough, uncomfortable) blankets to drape over Orrin.

It wouldn't be instant, but the added bandages, the coat and then finally the blanket would eventually stop his shivers and pained moans.  Nihka took her time packing up her healing supplies, watching and waiting for some sign that Orrin would be okay before she felt comfortable leaving.

 A few minutes would pass, Orrin'd appear stable, twenty minutes now and not a sound, but a bit past a half bell the wounded soldier would let out a pained, nearly airless gasp, eyes wide, hand outstretched towards the cave ceiling, a sudden act that of course would cause him pain, turned to his side curled up into a ball, the neatly laid out blanket wrinkled and folded over from the sudden movement, barely covering him anymore.

Nihka watches with a frown, quietly observing. As Orrin curled up, she stood and moved to adjust the blanket to drape over him once again. He feels a touch and turns towards it, teeth grit from the stinging pain "...Nihka..?"

Nihka offers a small, weak smile to the male.

"..injure... try not move...."

He smiles softly "Thought I saw an angel…" his gaze flits about around the cavern "It is like Halone's frozen halls..." he keeps looking and his eyes narrow: just behind Nihka, within view was a silver-haired miqo'te standing guard at the door "Where are we..." his softness quickly faded into a low growl.

 "....crystal cave....  fallen star tribe land...." Her ears lowered slightly."... please stay still...."

Orrin would not, of course, heed any such statement and try to prop himself up on his elbows, blanket rolling down to his hips exposing the fresh bandages that now started to show signs of being bled through. Not a moment later he collapses again onto his back as a shock of pain rolls over him. "Why.."

".. because if move... will... tear injure...." She sighed and moved in to check on the bandages she had applied. ".... limit supply bandage... please... lay back...."

"Not that, I know that..." he said "Why...are you here..."

Nihka raises a brow. ".... information.... chance talk..t..to tribe.... have few patient.. in. tribe... need treat..." She glanced back to the guard spying on them.

"You...you are helping them?" he gasped and then coughs up a fit, spitting up some blood that had not the chance to escape till now "Helping them maim and kill?"

"...no.... I am..try... prevent fight.... prevent kill..." She turned back to look at Orrin, frowning sternly. "..t..to avoid blood...."

"They…killed two score men, stripped their skin clean from their bones, piled their skulls in monument...Ngh.." he could not keep his head up, he stared at the icy cave walls "You only tend to their wounded...let them go back for more..." he gasped.

Nihka's eyes narrowed. "...not tend huntress..." Her tail flicked and twitched. "...tend to clip.... huntress proud.... refuse treat... not need treat...” Nihka sighed. ".... try show...outsider not beast... show possible dialog... with... outsider... instead hunt... instead kill...." She poked his chest gently. "...like prisoner... instead kill..."

"You think they keep me out of mercy?" He groaned in pain "my... imprisonment is only a step to more bloodshed…" he gasped those agonizing, airless gasps, struggling to breath, his left hand gripping helplessly at his chest.

"... Orrin..." She sighed, trying to press on his shoulders to hold him still. ".... relax....or will tear stitch..."

He could not hold still, he felt like he was suffocating, he rolled over, propped onto one weak arm, he retched onto the floor, that coppery tinge filling the air freshly once more. He then collapsed beside the blood, quivering.

Nihka growls softly."...do... i... need... restrain..." Yet… she moves to adjust the blanket again to keep him covered.

He seemed settled now, his body concluding its removal of dead blood from his body. He closed his eyes involuntarily, his breathing was quick and shallow. Nihka frowned, her ears lowered as she watched him convulse and cough.

"....Orrin.... " she paused  "... reason Orrin here...."

He is shuddering, letting out the occasional groan of pain, clearly trying to hide his suffering, his fingers digging into the blanket with near white-knuckle force, or what he felt it to be. In reality it was quite feeble.  Nihka caressed his forehead, brushing sweat slicked hair out of the way. Orrin turned to lay flat on his back, only position he could rest without putting pressure on his ribs and the stitched up wound. His face scrunched up tightly, soon enough the delirium of his injuries would claim him and he'd drift off into a restless, pained sleep, but he was better off than before. Nihka closed her eyes and sighed softly. Eventually, she stands and pulls her coat back on, gathering her things. She did as asked... she had more work to do.


Nihka held onto one thought: Hopefully, this was all worth it. Hopefully, lives would be saved.

Part 2 of the skype RP cleaned and edited for readability

Orrin tossed and turned, eventually waking from his slumber. Lifting a hand up out from under the blanket, he moved to rub at his eyes. It was still the shining crystalline ceiling. He tries to sit up and gasped and held his rib. He looked down and saw the bandages and he winced. He turned his gaze to the exit of his cell, there was no door, merely an opening in the rock and crystal.
No guard is visible, but line of sight being what it is, it was just as likely that one was just around the corner.

Orrin tried to stand, gripping at his chest, he limped his way over to the far wall with the exit. The blanket was cloaked over his back for warmth. He moved, skirting around, to at least get a look at the guards since all he could see were walls.

Just then, there is the barest whisper of a foot's tread, and a girl, or young woman, came into the room. 

"Oh!" It is one of the tribals dressed in cloth robes, by her movement alone it was not necessary to see her tail to know she was one of the Clipped. Her demeanor as she came in was of one who practiced being invisible… though she straightens, and even frowns a little upon finding Orrin up and about.

"You should not be moving… Outsider bodies are frail, and the Nunh will be displeased if you damage yourself…" It was said without mockery, like a simple fact.

The wounded man leaned against the wall by the exit, looking at the clipped Miqo'te. His icy blue eyes gazing at her, brows furrowed "My armor, my weapons, where are they?" He says, sliding down the surface, slumping to the ground, his knees brought up to his chest.

“You must rest," she insisted, sitting down and checking his eyes, his pulse. "Your possessions belong to the Nunh, now, as do you..." 

She was very gentle with her touch, reminiscent of Nihka, in some ways, with blue eyes a softer shade than Orrin's. "You should think on how best to please the Nunh, if you want to live. If you live, then maybe your things may be returned to you…" Her tone was placating, as though she did not truly believe it, but wanted him to relax all the same.

Orrin at any other time would have tried to stop the Miqo'te from touching him in the slightest, but he did not have strength, he could not bat her away. She does not seem particularly bothered by his resistance, letting him tire himself out before resuming her work. There's a deep patience in her, the endless mindset of one for whom the task they have is all they have, and so they'll do it...However, much like a wounded, cornered hound Orrin growled even in defeat. 

"I belong to no one...." he looked at her "Where are we? I know I am a captive Falling Stars tribe, but do they live here? Deeper in the caves? Are we far from them?"

“These are the Crystal Caves, the den of the Nunh. There are many of us here, but it is not the Home Sept."

“The Nunh does not live with the home sept?" he said, looking down at her then up at her when she stood and basically his gaze followed whichever direction she was as she tended to him.

"The Nunh is among us, yet apart, as it must be. The Home Sept is not so far that those who seek His favour cannot walk here easily." She checks his bandages, then gently proceeded to unwind them, in order to replace them.

He winced as the cloth clung to his body due to all the dried, coagulated blood. "Your tribe has killed so many of my people, why have I been spared?"

She shruged, her robe rustling slightly. "This one does not guess at the desires of Warriors… but.." She lowered her voice slightly, as the cloth comes off and she took her own damp cloth from a bucket, wiping away crust and blood alike. "Warlord X'indro must have found something of interest in you. Perhaps you may give knowledge to the Nunh."

He shuddered and shivered from the icy-cold water rolling his battered, body "He'll learn nothing from me. I'll not speak to a barbarian like him." he said through gritted teeth.

The girl's ears flick back, and she frowned… but shrugs, in the end. "Always may choose to die. Unless the Nunh does not allow. This one's task is only to make sure the Outsider healer's work is done while she is away, that you may meet the Nunh when He wishes it. If you choose to flee from life after, this is your choice."

"You follow a Nunh who'd mutilate his own?"

She blinked. "Is the Nunh." As if that was all the explanation anyone could ever need.

"The Nunh is naught but a man, a cruel evil man."

She hissed slightly and tossed a quick, nervous glance toward the way she came. Then leaned in, ears folded back. "Outsider should not say foolish things. The Nunh wishes you alive, but if a Warrior were to hear and be insulted, you would be given pain, or maybe even scarred." She drew back, and sets to hurriedly winding new bandages about him.

Orrin looked at her with those icy eyes of his. It was that old, tired glare of a man who had seen countless deaths, countless fights "I'll not bow to one who rules by fear. The Nunh can bleed, I'll prove it."

She met his gaze, but then shied away from it, shaking her head, muttering as she sets about finishing up his bandages. "Outsiders are stupid, it is known. Do not know anything, do not know the Nunh's Radiance. Outsiders are cruel, invading, trying to kill us. Outsiders are weak, and jealous, trying to take from us, enslave us. Outsiders are cowards, fleeing into death rather than face life. This is known..."

Orrin’s fury rose, flickering errant aether coalescing ever so slightly "You dare speak to me of cruelty?" He said "I saw my friend devoured from the legs up alive by one of your kind, saw how you flayed flesh from the skulls you piled up. Your Nunh lies to you, any violence now has been brought upon yourselves by his own greed. Why do you think now, after so long of being left alone that there is conflict like this? Your Nunh is poison."

The girl shook her head, sitting back. "Outsiders cannot understand." She eyed the flickering with a little frown, ears folding back. "Outsiders enslave and kill and lie. They lie, and so think others lie. But the Nunh does not lie. The Nunh does not need to lie. The Nunh is all, to us. He follows, we lead. Why would He need to lie? He guides." She pushed herself to her feet, with a pitying look. "You Outsiders, who do not have a Nunh, can only be lost."

"Then what are you?" he said "Are you not a slave? Forced to work and serve? Raped and dealt with as any other pleases? You are no freer than I am."

She flinched. "I…I am Clipped." She raised her chin, ears folded back. "I was not fit to be a Warrior, but I can still serve the Sept. I am weak, so Warriors can be strong, and protect the Sept. I make myself useful, so that Warriors can fight, and the Blessed can rest, and Kittens can grow, and the Nunh can lead. I know MY place, Outsider…and it is still above yours." With a soft growl, she turned and fled the room on light, quick steps, taking her things with her.

PART 3! one more part to go!

Orrin would perk up to the sound of footsteps. Nihka approached the guard outside of his gaol. She had more medicine and clothes in her arms. Without any sun or sky, it was difficult to tell, but Orrin guessed it may have been a day or two since he last saw her. 

Nihka raises a brow as she walks in, she saw that the cell was empty. She looked side to side for her friend. 

"....Orrin..."

"Nihka." he says, his voice was far from the weak whimper it was when he was first treated.
He was exactly where he was since that meeting with the cliptail: leaning up against the wall by the exit.

Nihka tilted her head slightly.

"....are.... are you.. hungry..." she showed the bundle of cloth in her arms. "... cold..."

He nodded "Food...food would be nice”

Nihka nodded back and kneeled in front of him, unrolling the bundle. There was not much, just some dried meat and fruits, a clump of what looks like dried meat and berries smooshed together in tallow. Not a fancy meal, but energy dense and able to keep for a long time. The bundle of cloth itself is some fresh clothes. Again, nothing fancy...but maybe a little warmer.

He did not seem to care what was offered, he would go for it quickly, devouring the food "Thank you." he said breathlessly "Water?" his voice begun to rasp. Hands curled into tight fists, his body was so visibly tense, so bundled up with rage and hatred, but in what direction was it pointing?

Nihka grimaced a bit, and turns away. She went to check if there was a jar or jug or pot of water in the small room. Her tail swished as she searched. It was not hard, there were not many places to hide something like that in here. She returned with a small jar she had filled with water, one brow raised as she looked to him, handing it to him.

Orrin goes for the jar and started to quickly cup water from it into his mouth. It was a desperate quiet minute as he gulped loudly and then reclines back against the wall. He paused for a brief moment, leaning his head back against the wall "I was right…" he said softly, looking to Nihka.

"... right about..." Nihka tilted her head, watching.

"I'm no prisoner of mercy." He said, holding his gaze "They want to use me...for something."

"..i not...ah... never argue.. particular fact..." She sat back on her heels. "...d..do you know purpose..."

"I do not." he said "One of their slaves came in" he peeled off his blanket to expose his chest "Changed the bandages"

Nihka nodded, then gestured to the fresh change of clothes.

"... definite see use... or curious... learn about y-you... ... probable want information.... Orrin goal... location.. ally.... ... possible will ask perform.. task..."

"They will get nothing out of me" he said scowling.

Nihka's lips thin, then she nodded once more

"...i understand..." She softly let out a “hmm”, looking over the bandages.

He looked to the fresh change of clothing "thank you Nihka.." he said and looks to her. "Whatever your plans are, do them quickly, before you see me any worse off."

"..i... not understand..." She tilted her head.

"You think you can change them, make them see something else…" his icy eyes seemed to burn "Isn't that right? That's the only reason you are here."

Nihka shook her head, then sighed quietly. Her ears flicked towards the direction of the door, and the guard.

"...yes.... ah... and no...."

He narrowed his gaze, noticing how her ears flicked in direction towards the guard, he said nothing, waiting quietly for a response.

"... h here. ...to learn... to try understand.... to try talk.... help avoid death..." Her ears twitched a bit and she smiles to Orrin weakly.

"Take care Nihka, you tell them the values of not killing and they'll learn how to abuse it. It very well may be that your teachings are what is keeping me alive for now, but perhaps it would have been better if I was killed."

 "... death never better...." Nihka shook her head. "...if dead.... no chance change... no chance learn or grow..."

"No chance to make things worse either." he responded, wrapping the blanket around himself, holding himself with it. The occasional puff of condensed breath in the cool air slipped from his lips. "They haven't harmed me since my arrival." he said in a lowered tone "Whatever they need me for, they need me healthy."

"... no reason hurt you.... no benefit..." Nihka shrugged. "...I suspect just talk..."


He laughed bitterly "No reason? As if they need one. They need a reason not to harm me. Breaking arms, legs, starvation, all these does not stop a mouth from moving, in fact, may make it easier." he focuses on Nihka intensely "You've not seen war, nor are you an Inquisitor's son." he said the icy eyes pleading "You fool yourself if you believe otherwise, which is why, whatever your goal is, you best work quickly before they get what they want from me, or I die from my refusal."

 "...you misunderstand....." A pause and her ears lowered. She shrugged. "....plenty reason not hurt.... n..no... no reason...t..to hurt.... not important.... ..but....ah... I know... Nuhn value strength... admire strength...." She points at him very briefly. "...I assume reason not hurt...is.... because want talk... not interrogate...."

"What strength? My capture was far from some glorious last stand. It makes no sense"

Nihka pondered this quietly for a moment, looking intently at Orrin.

"We were led into ambush, one I knew was coming and yet still we went, confident...was foolish.”

"..w..." Nihka frowned, brows furrowed, stuttering a bit, before finally managing a few words, her head tilted.

".... reason... for.... come...."

He tilted his head in turn "My reason? or yours?"

"..you... reason... reason come... despite ambush expect..."

"We needed information, needed to know how many were there, where they are, how to get there...its a miqo'te tribe, they are never too large..." he says looking to her. "I had expected a need to retreat, but not on the first day, No way they had the troops to cover 12 days worth of land.”

".... not know lot... miqo'te tribe..." Nihka tilts her head. "...lot about... about scout... about territory....." She frowned slightly. "....if just interest number.... reason not ask Nihka...."

“You know what I'd do with those numbers."

".... prepare force attack... kill.... kill tribe... kill child... kill kitten...."

"I'd do what I must." He looked at her "And that's why I could not ask you."

"... you still plan kill child..."

"The children are far from innocent, they take them with them for the hunts, are there and help, help with the mutilation, the killing, the ambushes. We would strike down all that would fight when we attack." he says, face cold, distant "I do what is necessary, I do not enjoy it."

"... Deny chance learn.. chance grow.... chance love..." Nihka closed her eyes. ".... vengeance... just.... cause more vengeance.... violence just cause violence..."

"It ends, when there are none left." he said coldly "They'll have their chance when their Nunh's head is on a spit, should they not see it at that moment then mercy, kindness…all wasted on them." he took a heavy breath "People like me exist, so that people like you need never see this, never have to make these decisions."

"...a single chance.... a moment.... and... no second chance..." Nihka tilted her head.

"This /is/ their second chance" he said looking at her "The clipped that was here spoke that it is cowardly to die, we'll see if their words hold any meaning."

 Nihka raised a brow.

"... first chance... explain..."

"It was when they decided to expand, to not stay in the mountains where they would have been left alone." he kept the blanket tightly wrapped "Much like when Thordan and his knights twelve doomed Ishgard to its war, so too has their Nunh. They'll have their second chance when he is deposed"

"...is not chance...." Nihka frowned. "... for tribe.. for chance learn mercy... learn love... most tribe... first chance..... if....if you kill Nunh.... will be first chance.... for most tribe.... and you will condemn... single failure... like clip...."

"It won't be like clipping, it will be quick, no humiliation, no torture like what these barbarians do."

: "... for single failure... deny any chance learn...."

"Their lesson will be that their Nunh is no god."

"...if...y..you can even ...bleed....Nunh...."

"Come off it, Nihka. You are starting to sound like them!" he said with a growl. "I've felled dragons, survived primals and voidsent alike. There are no gods but the twelve above."

"...I watch Akiko stab... in chest... not bleed ... I watch Nunh fight...." She glanced over towards the door, her ears flicking. ".... strong.... incredible proud... and... ah..... you will upset huntress... guard.... keep insult....."

Orrin locks eyes with Nihka, gaze unwavering "Only would prove me right if she comes in here to hurt me whilst I'm injured and unarmed. They are too meek to dare challenge me on equal footing. Let their precious feelings be hurt."

Nihka smirked a bit and nodded. "....d..do you think.... fight primal... alone ... can...."

"No, I've no delusions of that. but none these huntresses are one." 

Nihka nodded, still not looking away from the entrance. "....Nunh.... try avoid fight Nunh...... will probable chance talk soon..." Her ears lower slightly as she realized that in a way he was right, she had started to sound like them. But it's just... she was just explaining the facts of the matter...

He lifts his head up to look at Nihka "I have not much choice, without a weapon I am not capable of doing much."

Nihka turned to look him in the eyes. "..... even weapon... with weapon... unless want fight primal alone...."

"With a weapon, I can leave..."

Nihka's brows furrowed and she tilted her head. "..... fight escape..."

"If necessary, my chances are much worse without a weapon" He looks to Nihka "You'll think they'll let me go? You think if I give them what they want they will leave me be? I will die, Nihka.” He casts on arm out to the side in emphasis, slamming a fist against the cave wall “And if I am going to, I will do so fighting, not in some cell like an animal."

Nihka's expression falls. ".... depend.... on Nunh ask.... suppose.... but..." Nihka squeaks and cuts herself off when she hears a new voice.

"You may have your chance, Outsider."

She turns to look to the door again, ears back. A man stands in the door, one whom Nihka had seen once before. Somewhat older-looking, a tribal like the rest, and built tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. A single scar traced over his face, that and his tightly pulled-back hair lending a severe, angular cast to him. A pair of spears are holstered in an X upon his back, and silvery eyes regarded the both of them with a calm, piercing sense of observation.

Nihka stands and bows her head in greeting. Just her head, mind, respectful but not submissive.

Orrin however turn towards the Miqo’te and where Nihka bowed he'd not look away, ever defiant.

The man's lip curved in a light smile. "What? No bold proclamations? No threats, or taunts? Ishgardians." A soft chuckle, and he shakes his head. "The Nunh wishes to speak with you. Follow. Or be dragged. That would be amusing." He turned, and started to head off.

Nihka looked to Orrin, head tilted. ".... probable....ah... not enough time change new clothes.... "

Orrin pushed up from the wall and stood, looking to Nihka "The moment of truth." he then allowed the blanket he used as a cloak to fall fall, the bandages wrapped about his chest the only sort of modesty aside from the slacks he wore. "Nihka, pray we see each other again."

"~Menphina's love guide you~"

THE FOURTH AND FINAL EDIT! THE MEETING WITH X'ZARANN! HYPE!
Apologies for the serial posts.

The older Miqo’te male led the way through the tunnels. He set a solid, unhurried pace. Orrin and X’ogun came out onto a larger cross-tunnel. Here and there, other Warriors and Clipped were going about, though any and all who came anywhere close stepped respectfully out of the way of Orrin, or, more likely, his escort. The place was dim, gleaming, and cold. Down the main path, and further, and then into a widening space set up like a room. Here there were carpets, divans and a chair in the middle. In the middle of the room, laid out on the carpets was Orrin's armor.

Across the room the tunnel continued and by its mouth stood a strangely-familiar huntress. The huntress stood, ponytail draped over her shoulder, watching Orrin with that cat-like regard many of them affected. Her yellow eyes and general appearance tickled some recollection. Orrin’s gaze drifted on the oddly familiar huntress first, though his focus is drawn to the armor on display.

"Go on, boy, get dressed. The Nunh is finishing His meeting." The male waited nearby, giving a nod to the huntress, who nods back, with equal depth.

Orrin blinked and moved towards his armor. The male Miqo’te pulled out a small pocketbook and began to read, while the female simply kept watching Orrin. He first reached for the scaled skin-tight suit that made the majority of his armor, he expected a deep tear just under the left pectoral, a wound from the battle before but found it curiously repaired, it looked near pristine. His grip tightened about the suit but eventually he slips it on. Click. Clack. Snap. After the scale mail under suit was on he made quick work to affix his gauntlets, boots, pauldrons, the mechanized armor fitting and tightening with a metallic ring. He had learned to don the much bulkier Drachen Mail without a squire and had done the motions so many times, so often in times of crisis that it had become second nature. The much lighter and older dragonlancer armor was nothing in comparison. The huntress, waited until he is done dressing up fully. Her stance iwas almost statue-like, her tail not even moving, her eyes the only thing that shifted even a little as he prepared himself.

He was fully garbed just in time for X'indro to amble out of the corridor ahead, the same corridor where the Nunh was supposed to be. His crystalline pink eyes lit up and he grinned as he saw the Dragoon. "Hey, it's my Outsider. He didn't heal up so badly, did he, Vurr?" He grins at the huntress, who more or less ignored him. Then looked at the older man. "Ogun too? Two Fallen for one prisoner, interesting..." His tail swished, and he strutted on by. "Well, have a nice meeting~"

The girl, X'vurr, nods. "The Nunh will see you now." Her voice is familiar too, yet not, weirdly-so... When she moves in order to lead the way, it's almost jarring. She goes slightly ahead of him, down the passageway.

Orrin’s gaze continued to hold on the huntress before donning his helm and walking forward. His armored footsteps upon the cave interior sounding out loudly, echoing, announcing his presence far before anything could possibly come in sight. Orrin himself followed quietly without a word, looking, scanning the walls. At this point, there were no other paths; the passage went on a little while, before ending in a larger chamber. This one had comparatively little in it for its size. Some fifty fulms across and thirty high, the ground dipped down from the entrance, giving the chamber the impression of a shallow bowl. In the middle, the impression was reinforced by a pool of clear water some ten fulms across, still and glittering in the crystalline light. Standing on the far edge, regarding his reflection, was a man who could only be X'zarann.

The resemblence to Anstarra was discernible. A little taller, broader in the shoulder and more visibly muscular, he had the same fine features and physical flawlessness, the same green eyes, the same relaxed and confident-looking smirk, as if thinking of something mildly pleasant. His garb was not what Orrin would expect from a tribal. He had a fine sort of breastplate, which was cloaked with spiked shoulders. His hair was long, spilling below the shoulder; a few locks strayed over his face.

Planted point-first into the ground to either side of him, were a pair of spears. One was Orrin's, the ancient forked spear that came from a time before Ishgard, before the war. The other is a curious, technologically-advanced-looking thing, with a design reminiscent of Allagan style, or perhaps Garlean. Magitek, at the least.

Orrin walked forward, his footsteps continuing to echo out in the large chamber. He spied his weapon by the man's side and narrowed his gaze behind the visor. He halted at the far end of his side of the arena.

X’zarann looked up as Orrin approaches. His gaze was not very much like Anstarra's. It burned with... something. Ambition, perhaps, arrogance, certainly, and a potential for cruelty, though An was hardly innocent of that. There was an edge to his physical beauty that was doubtlessly devastatingly alluring, to those attracted to such.

"Ah, there you are. I trust you have found the accommodations.. Apropriately comfortable."

Orrin remained silent, waiting at the opposite end of the basin, arms at either side stoically. Though his body language suggested a preparedness, as if were X'zarran to lug a lance at him he would be ready to move.

The Nunh smirked lightly, and grasps Orrin's spear, jerking it free of the stone. "A fine weapon." He twirled it ably in his fingers, sliding it down one hand so as to examine the tip. "It is said a Warrior can be judged by their spear. Has it been used? Does it remain sharp? Where are the nicks in the length, those markings that show how desperate their defense." He grasped it below the head, and sets the butt down before him, point-up.

Orrin tensed when X'zarann dare touched his weapon. His right hand closed into a tight fist, the metal of his clawed gauntlet rattling.

"I have wondered if that remained true of Outsiders. You whose weapons are made in foundries by…craftsmen, who rarely - if ever - wield a weapon themselves. It did not seem likely…and yet in my travels, I have often been impressed by what Outsiders have managed to accomplish. Such feats of engineering, of innovation." His other hand plucked up the other weapon, twirling it and setting it down in his other fist, in a mirror of Orrin's. It glowed softly.

"Above all else, I have sought to understand how things work. Power, artifice.. aether, magic. Cleverness and artistry, I find myself compelled to understand it. Do you know what I mean?"

Still, he remained silent, the helm's visor hiding his eyes and mouth, betraying no emotion through his face. He stands at the other side, maintaining the distance between him and X’zarann

X'zarann laughs softly, then smirks. "Ah, but what am I saying? How could you understand? Just looking at you, I can see you have as much profundity as this pool." Orrin glanced down, it was easy to discern now that the water that skirted the basin was only a few ilm at its deepest. "I might as well talk to your spear. From what my Warlord tells me, you speak far more eloquentl with it than without." He flashes his teeth in a grin. "Alas that the irony is likely lost upon you. How your kind loves to condescend mine, seeing us as only simple killers. Yet if you would glance upon your reflection..." He shrugs. "Still, I have use for weapons, as well. Living, and otherwise. So what say you, Orrin Halgren. Shall I make a weapon of you?"

Orrin inhaled sharply then exhaled slowly "What makes you think I'll ever serve you? Turn against Nihka, Anstarra?" He remains at a distance "You made your first mistake against me a year ago, your second when your rabid dogs for huntresses brutalized my friends. Assuming I'll ever align my cause with you is your third and last."

X'zarann smirksed, a satisfied gleam entering his eyes, as though he already scored a point. "Ah, not mute after all." He tilted his head. "Do not speak to me as though your people have never committed any atrocities. I visited one of the dungeons in your magnificent city of Ishgard. Such glory, standing astride such maleficence. The hypocrisy of it veritably took my breath away. Would you deny that cruelty exists in every society, at one strata or another? Would you deny that it serves a purpose?" He shakes his head. "No. One such as you would not be so naive. Some of my huntresses are cruel, yes... but it serves a purpose yet." He tilted his head the other way then swished his tail. A smile wrote itself on his lips. "As to the other... it is gratifying to know that I was correct. That it was you, who my Fallen took the Wyrmtear from. Are you angry, at such theft? You, who had to commit murder to even claim the relic in the first place?"

Orrin would be staring daggers were it not for the unblinking red eyes of his messail masking his expression. "Shows how little you know, I had shed no blood for that tear. That cursed relic should have met its end back then, its only existence will cause more bloodshed." He said "Though not that you care, I've seen your sort before, rule by fear and misinformation. You call outsiders weak and yet cling to their weapons. A storm shall come, X'zarann, one that will claim your tribe, and they shall know it was a calamity brought by your hands."

X'zarann barked a laugh. "Then you are a thief yourself! For the tear's origins lie in blood. And one who is meant to take it, is intended to use it; one who would simply destroy it is not intended to own it. And you speak of bloodshed as though it were some terrible thing. As if this weapon has not drunk rivers' worth." He lifted Orrin's spear, holding it parallel to the ground. "Anyroad, make no mistake. Outsiders, as a rule, ARE weak... but clever. After all, it was Outsiders who made us, made my people strong in the first place. Made us strong enough to escape our enslavement to them… so, clever, but perhaps not wise. To wit..."

He flipped Orrin's spear in the air. It spuns, in a tight, gleaming blur. Orrin watched his weapon soar through the air, though a half glance was kept on X'zarann, half expecting it to be a distraction. The spear drove head down into the stone, in the middle of the pool. Orrin growls "That blade was put away a millennium ago, only now has it been drawn to smite those deserving." He says walking towards it. "Shows what you know. The tear is born of hatred, it corrupts and does nothing else. It is relic of an era past." he neared his weapon "And in the past it should remain!" he said, reaching for his weapon. He'd pry it out of the ground and brandish it towards X'zarann in a single extended arm, grip just halfway down the haft. Orrin grits his teeth, he can still feel the wound just below his chest shooting a shock of pain up the length of his shoulder and arm. "You can't control it, no one can! Better men than you have tried! You'll be a thrall, out of control, you’ll destroy your own sept with it, if you even care for it.”

X'zarann laughed, low and long, a growling, rolling sound as he slowly brandished and wheeled his own advanced spear. "And that shows what you know, Dragoon." Gracefully, holding his weapon pointed out in extension with the butt behind his back, he cocked his head up. "There are no better men than me. There are no men like me, at all. Come. Let me show you."

Orrin's fully extended arm with his spear drew back in a spinning flourish over his head before resting behind him, spear hanging low at half stance "Even if I fall, others shall come." he then brought his weapon properly in front of him in Ishgardian Lancer style. "Is this what you wanted? Why I'm a prisoner instead of a skull on a heap like so many others?"

"And what if it is?" X'zarann grinned, showing his teeth brightly. "Is it so strange? That I would wish to test my skills against a formidable Warrior? Who held seven of my hunters and huntresses at bay on his own, including one of my Warlords. Who, if the rumors are true, fought against a Primal…alongside my sister." His eyes gleamed brightly, fiercely. "Will you tell me you are not curious? To know how you may fare against me? Surely you have heard tales of me, by now, from Anista if nowhere else. I value power, and skill, and challenges. To fight only the weak is to stagnate."

"You risk dispelling your claim to godhood?" He said digging in his stance, steeling himself "so be it"

X'zarann laughs, and whirled his own spear in a tight arc, warming up his muscles and loosening for a fight. "If you give me enough of a challenge, I will show you the power of the Radiance. For now though, let us see..." As he did his warm up Orrin sparred no time and leaps into the air in a high arc, upon cresting, PSHOOM, like a spear of light he rockets down to clash with X'zarran with strikes that clearly intended to be fatal

X'zarann whipped his spear up to parry. It was a motion remarkable not only for its raw skill, but also for the expertise in which fought against the favored weapon of his tribe. There was a bright, ringing clash of arms and X'zarann skidded back a fulm. He looked back at the small cut on his arm he grinned fiercely. "Ahh yes! I knew you would make this fun!" he said before lunging viciously!
Orrin’s eyes then widen suddenly as the Miqo'te lunged at him with speed, He barely deflected the thrust with a powerful counter swing of his spear crosswise which of course sent a jolt of pain from his chest, up his shoulder and down the length of the arm, bordering on tingling and numbness. "ngh.." He stepped forward past X’zarann to roll with the strike and round to face the Nunh. Orrin then charged, as he does so the aether coalesced around him, a draconic roar born of the aether itself as the phantom scales warped around him in azure hue. X'zarann's eyes sharpened as Orrin invoked a power he only heard of. Orrin approached with another vicious thrust aimed at center mass only to have X’zarann whip his spear fiercely downwards, driving Orrin’s attack down into the stone; the ground explodes around the terrible, uncontrolled impact, sending shards of crystalline rock in all directions.

"Haha… what amazing gall you have, calling me out for wanting to use the power of dragons for my own! I'll agree with X'indro. Outsiders are endlessly entertaining!" Teeth bared, he shifted to the side and lunged, using Orrin’s own momentum to add to the speed, his advanced lance coming in like a comet.

"What this is, is /our/ curse, our cross to bear!" he said with anger, deflecting the lunge upwards, rearing his lance back for a counter thrust, digging his feet into the ground. Though Orrin fully expected him to swing downward in a block. Properly grounded Orrin rocketed off the ground and with the newfound aethereal power. The Nunh blocked air and by the time he could look up Orrin was already descending upon him like a Levin bolt from above, weapon bearing down upon X’zarann in an overhead slam. He recoiled from the ferocious blow, a cross wise block that caught the spear head on the shaft over his head. His legs buckled below the strike before redirecting Orrin off to the side, sending him into a roll across the ground.

"Yes... now I begin to see how you stood up to my Warriors! I was right to face you myself. Now let me show you some of the mastery of the Nunh!" He clenched his fist on his lance, and there seems to almost be a shimmering of light in the air, a halo of sublime force. When X’zarran lunged with his lance this time it was with no frills, only vastly increased speed.

Orrin had only gotten back to his feet and his eyes widened “too fast” he thought and in desperation he brings his weapon up to defend but only managed to prevent it from running him through. The parry directed it into his shoulder instead. He grunted in pain and tried to channel it. With spear still lodged in him, Orrin struck with his own with the one good arm, aimed at the Nunh’s gut.

X'zarann clicked his tongue as he ably, swiftly defended against the blow, pulling the spear out of the now mangled pauldron with inhuman speed, crossing their weapons pinning Orrin in place for a moment as X’zarann met his gaze with his own. "Your injuries slow you. You are powerful, stronger than your own body can encompass. Do you not tire? Of being weaker than you deserve? Of drowning in your own might? Surrender, and I will FREE you of your shackles!" His eyes gleamed with luminescence, his words carrying weight, force…he effect similar to how his attack was empowered, only now, it was his words...

Orrin could feel the truth to the Nunh’s words, but his mind would not falter where his aging body would break. Orrin growled back in response "I am strong enough!" the aether swelled, the roar rising in volume. He broke the deadlock on might alone, deftly he parried another entangling strike from X’zarran, knocking the glowing weapon wide, exposing the Nunh’s chest. Orrin gripped his weapon with both hands and thrusted the attack came in fierce and powerful it drove home, right into X'zarann's chest. The horrid sound of flesh and bone torn and cracking rung out. The Nunh looked at him wide eyed... and then laughed, the sound resonating, Light rose from within him. "Oh, you are strong, yes." He gripped the spear and jerked it out, leaving a hole without blood... which filled with light, leaving only unbroken flesh behind when it subsided. "But not strong enough." Orrin’s assault is given pause by the sight of X’zarann shrugging off a blow that would put down any man. “I had to see it for myself…” Orrin reared his weapon back into ready position but then winces, the draconic aether that surrounded him seemed to flare, licking at his flesh like flames at a pyre, trying to consume his form “No…not now”

X’zarran stepped back, baring his teeth, and flourishes his hand; in it, there was the gleam of a trio of materia. "Let me show you my own... inherited might." He pitched the spheres into his open mouth and blinding, electric, flaring energy bursted from him. It coursed through his veins, floods his eyes, and he seemed to swell, to practically float with the awesome power roiling inside him. Orrin tried to shake off the roiling rage of his inner dragon and resumes his attack but
X'zarann parried so quickly. Nihka's words come back to mention now, faster than Orrin could see, impossibly strong... there was no flourish, no splash or dash in his moves, they are sharp, frame-perfect, and backed with literally godlike power. The clashing parry forced Orrin to /recoil/ with the impact... and X’zarann followed it with a strike almost too quick to comprehend.

Orrin had barely gotten his footing back from the strike when he sensed X’zarann’s approach. Orrin lets out a gasp, on reflex he brought his weapon crosswise, catching one of the tines on that ornate magitek spear on the shaft on the weapon. His extended arms buckle, a shot of pain shooting through his chest as he felt his collarbone nearly fracture, under the force his shoulders tried to bare. He was pushed back several fulms from the strike. He gritted his teeth, white knuckle grip upon his weapon. Nearly dropping to one knee he holds against the assault.

Orrin shunted aside the spear, panting, heaving, Blood was pooling seeping through his scales near the wound he sustained earlier. His vision blurred, he could not discern if the three Nunh’s he saw were real or not. "Not here, not like this..." he pants and growls "Your power, Millette, I need more..." he says, his hold on his weapon wavering. Then suddenly there was humongous flaring of aether, almost blindingly so. One would expect to see aetherial blade to form followed by a series of destructive slashes to be wrought upon X’zarann but instead the energy petered out. As the light faded Orrin fell to his knees and then backwards sitting upon his legs, letting go of his weapon, letting clatter to the ground as head back.

X'zarann stood, blazing with power, his features somehow more remote, implacable... perfected behind the veil of deific might. He stepped forward and lifted his spear. Light seems to gather on the tip, as he pressed it to Orrin's brow... saying something, though his words are a fog, but theirs is a terrible weight of meaning... and then all is darkness.

________________________________________________________________


"Ah, he awakens...”The face that greeted Orrin isn't one he recognizes, and yet is familiar soon came understanding, if not comprehension. For the face was Ishgardian. Or the man's clothes were, anyroad. They were the clothes of a chirurgeon of House Haillenarte. "You had us worried, ser."

Orrin sat up, or at least tried to. It was that sort of sudden rising that came from combat being the last thing one sees.

"Pray, my lord, your injuries!" The man protested, gently trying to usher Orrin back into a prone position. "You're safe here, though it's the Fury's own grace that you were found in time. Left in a snowbank to die, it seemed, and one of our patrolmen had the fortune of spotting you before you froze to death. We've been warming and treating you for two days now."


He blinked "Left to die..?" he leaned back into the infirmary bed, it was a familiar feeling. "That makes no sense, he mutters. Trying to recall the moments before he lost consciousness. Those last moments.. the heat of combat, with the blazing draconic rage filling his consciousness.. then a terrible burning as X'zarann's lance touched his brow.. the sharp pain of sudden migraine drives it all away for the moment. He clenched his teeth and held his head with his right arm, exhaling and inhaling through his mouth almost in a snarl. He laid back down. "My weapon, my armor, where are they?"

"Your arms and armor are here, my lord. Right there." He pointed off to the side, where indeed Orrin's raiment has been set up on a stand in the proper manner. He moved away for a moment, and returned with a bowl of broth. "Please, drink this. You must recover your strength."

He reached for the bowl, drinking in deep the broth. Soon enough it was drained of its contents and he rested on his back. "Thank you." he sighed and closed his eyes, it was a fitful slumber.

X'cinna's Gift - Goblet, Night Ravens House.

Cinna laid down upon her ‘bed’ within the confines of a secure corner she shared with Aria within the Ravens’ house. Nowadays, Aria spends her time wandering what the Outsiders called the Goblet, although Cinna suspects she ventures into the lands called Thanalan and the large Outsider settlement of Ul’dah on occasion. She stares at the spear granted to her by the Outsider, Evangeline or ‘flower girl’ as she and Aria had come to call the eccentric Outsider, although she suppose it’s “Miss Primrose”now. The residence of the Ravens stinks of alcohol, perfume, rot and other unusual smells, although the former is not wholly unwelcome. Cinna has been drinking her way through the Ravens’ alcohol stores, and has been relatively unsatisfied with their potency; the large Outsider supposedly has a more potent collection, but Cinna has been unable to discover her stores, if there are any. At the very least, Cinna has started trying to recognize the symbols on the beverages as a means of discerning their likely alcoholic potency, it was far better than lazying about like a sluggish drake. The best drinks tended to have the word, ‘Limsa’ somewhere on the container, while those of ‘Gridiana’ have wider variety. The local brew from ‘Ul’dah’ varies widely as well, although most of it either tastes like swill or is overly flavorful. There were some bottles from “Ishgard”, a name Cinna recognized as the Outsider settlement closest to her homeland, of which her sept often raided wayward caravans originating or bound for the settlement.

She lazied swirls a bottle in front of her, another bottle of what Miss Primrose called ‘Rotgut’ from ‘Limsa’. This was the drink favored by the large Outsider and is one of the few drinks potent enough to overwhelm her. Cinna took a swag of the bottle, “Ahh~”, her ears perk up as the alcohol took effect. She tried all of the different varieties of beverages within the house, tasted a variety of flavors and ‘proofs,’ a strange word. Cinna turns over on the bed, she tilted her head as her tail swirls about and wonders, why would anyone want to ‘prove’ something is a drink?  Her amber eyes reflected off the bottle as she ponders this question. She turned her body around once more and beheld her growing collection of used bottles and flasks, occasionally she returned a container once the Masked Outsider or others make a fuss about it, but otherwise she couldn’t be bothered. Cinna places the bottle besides her makeshift bed before rolling onto her back, her tail sprouting beneath her raised upwards, playfully jerking around as she focused on the blue tip of her tail. The image of Anista playing with Nikha’s tail came into mind as she fidgets with the ends of her tail, she yanks back as she accidentally squeezes it. “Ouch~” 

Cinna softly petted her tail as a means of soothing her brief mistake, before sighing and closing her eyes. After a few moments, she felt like she was floating amidst a strong current, “Did I drink too much again~,” Cinna wondered yet too lazy to open her eyes. She should be lying on her bed as she was a few moments ago, therefore this must be another dream - the floating feeling elicited by her drunken stupor, although she was sure that she didn’t drink that much yet. A light flashed before her eyes and Cinna opened them in alert, ‘Did Aria set the stove on fire again?’ she wondered as she tried to spring to her feet, yet her feet felt if they were flailing in mid-air. In a panic, Cinna looked around and beheld a vast open space, not unlike the sea yet darkening around the edges, ‘Did I really drink that much? Or did ‘Miss Primrose’ spike the drinks? I was so careful…~’ Cinna scanned the horizon for a landmark before sensing a bright light from above. Looking up, Cinna beheld a star shower, not unlike the shooting stars of her homeland, yet much closer than she had ever seen them. “What?~”, Cinna blinked before trying to avoid the oncoming meteors; however, she remained locked in place as the falling stars shoot past her. Hear. Feel. Think. A mysterious voice echoes in the distance… 

Cinna suddenly jerked up on her bed, she looked around and felt the softness of the blanket blow her, she glanced at the bottle besides her bed and frowned. 

A vision of the past. A echo in time.
————
The wind howled as X’cinna Ares, of the Sept of the Falling Stars, stalked her prey.

An Outsider camp had brazenly established itself within the domain of the Nunh, thus, Warlord X’indro and his warriors were order to cut them down. They descended upon the camp in darkness, and set to work slaughtering the Outsiders. X’cinna was a lookout, assigned for the duty of pursuing any survivors. After a few minutes, screams could be heard coming from the camp as the Sept’s warriors set about their business. X’cinna tried to peer into the darkness of the camp, the torches smothered by the vanguard. All she heard were the screams of the Outsiders and the eager snarls of her siblings, “X’orri seems to be getting really into it,” X’cinna noted particular high pitched screams alongside a delighted snarl, indicative of her savage sister’s perspective of ‘fun.’ X’cinna’s ears flicker in multiple directions, trying to filter out the sounds from the camp in alert for those seeking escape. Soft pattering could be hear, X’cinna smiled coldly and turned to pursue…
—————
Roroyo didn’t know how much she cursed her fortune, but Twelve knew she cursed it often enough now. Her little lalafell feet pattered through the narrow canyon, while the sack of what possession and merchandise she had on her rattled on her back. She came to Eorzea to make a name for herself, to exploit the riches of this conflict-ridden, but relatively unexploited land. This was supposed to be a productive expedition, she and her business partners would journey into the unknowns of Xevlphatol, east of the reclusive city-state of Ishgard and strike it rich from the neglected mineral resources surely hidden beneath the tundra. They hired a few guards and headed north, confident of their success; Ishgard barely paid attention to what it considered the useless eastern tundra, neglected similarly also by heretics and dragons alike. Her eyes shifted left and right as she ran, her Lalafellin ears catching the sound of rustling bushes, the wind or a ‘pursuer’? Roroyo kept running.
—————
Peered at the tiny tracks, a child? Foolish Outsiders, bringing their children to the wilds, away from their fortified settlements. Perhaps she should capture it as prey for the older kittens, X’cinna grinned. Like a shadow, she stalked the ‘?child?’ through the canyon, catching a glimpse of a small figure zigzagging from boulder to bush. Eventually she recognized some familiar geographical formations, and a savage smile came over her, as a predator cornering her prey. She was a shadow, shifting from cover to cover, stalking her untrained prey, more so out of amusement. She briefly exposed herself as the ‘child’ glanced back and beheld the latter’s widened eyes of terror. At last the ‘child’ ran into a crevice and X’cinna pounced, thrusting her spear at the ‘child’s’ throat…
—————
Roroyo cried as the spear pressed against her neck, her extended family flashing before her eyes. “Wait! Can’t we cut a deal!” She prayed in her heart that this savage somehow understood a measure of the Common dialect. “Hmm, deal?” the miqo’te’s eyes narrow, like a predator judging the value of its prey. “I… I can show you things! I have merchandise! I can give to you!,” the miqo’te stared at her before her face broke into a predatory grin. “Alright, show me, ‘child.’” Roroyo noted how the savage addressed her, but did not dare correct the miqo’te, if she thought her a child, maybe the savage will be more lenient. Roroyo looked in her sack and despaired…. She had grabbed most of their rum supplies in haste and had forgotten most of her alchemical potions back in the fallen camp. In despair, she quickly pulled out a bottle and chugged it down, perhaps it would dampen the pain from when the savage would pierce her body with that jagged spear. “Hmm? What’s that your drinking at a time like this?,” the savage purred inquisitively. “Ah. Try some. Miss.” Roroyo offered the bottle.
—————
X’cinna frowned at the spiced beverage being offered to her by the ‘child’, however, curiosity piked her interest. She swiped the beverage from the ‘child’s’ hands and proceeded to chugged it down. Suddenly, the world melded and sifted around her as she felt a warmth in her body. The ‘child’ remained standing where she was, cornered, although backing up slightly against the wall. Poison? Nay, the ‘child’ drank some and her cheeks only turned slightly red. However, a strange, indescribable feeling warmed X’cinna as the wind from the canyon chilled her back and tail. She drank some more… as the ‘child’ pulled out another bottle from the latter’s sack and chugged it as well. “See…. not…. poison…. drink…. ssssspiced … rrrrrum,” the ‘child’ started to slur. X’cinna suddenly felt a strange sense of comradeship with this ‘child’, a indescribable feeling for a Warrior of the Sept. “Ahh… this beverage… you have more?”, X’cinna inquired.
————
Roroyo fell back into sobriety as her merchant instincts seized on the savage’s inquiry. While it is unlikely this miqo’te would have any gil, Roroyo valued her life and sought to leverage her chances of survival. “Ah yes. I have more. Lots more!,” Roroyo explained to the slightly flushed miqo’te. “I can give them to you… if you let me go?” Roroyo desperately inquired. The miqo’te glanced at the rum bottle in her hand and her spear planted in the ground on the other, “Or I can kill you and take the rest of the beverages,” the miqo’te purred. Oh no! Roroyo recoiled in horror, “Please wait, I… I can teach you about all different kinds of drink… all different kinds of beverages,” she desperately proposed. “Oh, there are more drinks as such? Beyond what lies in that sack?”, “Yes, good miss! There is a realm of liquid delights awaiting all who seek it!” The miqo’te look thoughtful, bringing up the spiced rum bottle to her nose and sniffing at it once more, her ears flickering as her white-furred but blue-tinged tail swished behind her. “How about…”
————
The remains of the camp were illuminated by the morning sun, naught but ruins and massacre left as Warlord X’indro’s warriors celebrated their victory. Two tias collected anything that appeared to be written documents, while some of the warriors amusing themselves with their prey, while others eagerly picked up shiny and pretty trinkets. A few warriors were gathered around Warlord X’indro as he dramatically read from a plundered Outsider text, the warriors were clapping and swishing their tails, as he dramatically gestured. He stopped as he noticed X’cinna returning to camp, a large sack held over her shoulder. “Ah, X’cinna. You return from pursing prey?” He smirked at her. “Indeed, Warlord. I have returned with spoils!”, “Hmm? What did you do with the prey?”, “Oh. I ate it.”, X’cinna nonchalantly replied. “Of course, but it’s only been a few since the sun emerged. You sure are gluttonous to have finished your prey so quickly,” Warlord X’indro smirked as the other warriors gather around him chattered.

“Warlord, such displays are beneath me. I merely sampled what interested me, as you do with your trinkets,” X’cinna retorted. “Mph. Outsiders have interesting works of words. The Nunh has always expressed interest in their knowledge, despite their weaknesses. I am merely immersing myself in their ideas,” X’indro pompously countered. “Do such ideals typically involve two tias Blessing each other, Warlord?,” “I know not what you speak of, Warrior X’cinna,” X’indro glanced at X’cinna and looked over to her sack. “Now, what trinkets do you have to share? I hope it was worth the trouble of carrying it back.” X’cinna’s ears fluff and her tail raises in pride, “Of course, Warlord. I brought back enough for all of the war band to partake! I also learned some interesting things from the prey before I finished it. I shall tell you….”
————
The carriage rolled on south towards Camp Dragonhead, within a bundle of blankets could be seen shivering. The carriage driver looked over his shoulder at the bundle, “It’s rather fortunate we found you Miss. You would have been food for the Fury knows what out there. Fortunately, we almost to Camp Dragonhead. House Fortemps is accepting of foreigners and from there you can find another chocobo caravan to take you south to Gridiana.” The bundle opened and two big eyes glanced at the driver, both in gratitude and weariness, “Thank… you, Ser.” “No problem, Miss. I would say… it’s the first time I encountered one of you lalafells and you seem contrary to the rumors about your folk,” the driver responded, “Ah. No offense, Miss.” Roroyo looked up from her bundle and gave a tired smile, “None taken. I just want to go home.”

The driver smiled at the cute lalafellin face, “What were you doing all the way up here? You’ll be trespassing on Ishgardian land if you pl…. Nay, I suppose   it wouldn’t matter now, by how you look.” Roroyo frowned and shook her head, her dark greenish hair messed up, “These lands are… not for the likes of me and my kin.” Roroyo looked up at the roof of the carriage: she had lost her business partners, her guards, her merchandise and alchemical material. However, that savage miqo’te didn’t seem interested in the gil she was carrying, but was focused on the rum supplies she inadvertently salvaged. The miqo’te left her enough supplies to survive for a few suns, and pointed her in the general direction of Ishgard. Roroyo hugged her blankets further, “I should have never left Thavnair,” she mumbled.
————

When the warriors of the Southern Defense returned to the Home Sept, they reeked of spices and concoctions. Their state lead to a brief scandal within the Sept as warriors and tias drunkly shifted through captured supplies for more of the beverages. Nevertheless, the Nunh was amused, so it worked out. Roroyo sold her remaining assets, and returned home to Thavnair, opening a brewery specialized in Eorzean beverages. X’cinna never forgot the lessons taught to her by the ‘child’, and sought to sample many different beverages in her sept’s actions against Outsider intruders. However, occasionally she did wonder how that ‘child’ would have actually tasted…