Hydaelyn Role-Players

Such was the contents of a flyer, haphazardly scribed upon a piece of aged parchment. It was first found tacked to the outer wall of Camp Bronze Lake. It was found by one of the guards - a dour Roegadyn by the name of Stout Pillar - who, considering it little more than graffiti, tore the paper down and disposed of it before returning to his rounds.

The next sun, however, came with a fresh one in its place. And a second a few yalms further down. The handwriting and sloppy sketch of the ruins leading to Wanderer's Palace was different, but the overall content was the same. Another guard pulled one down out of amusement to show to the rest of his crew, and the other was promptly removed by Stout once he learned of it.

And so it continued for a few suns. Each time, like a hydra, more and more of the flyers would start to pop up. A few even managed to make it past the defensive perimeter to decorate the sides of changing stalls and the very buildings of Camp Bronze Lake themselves. While it amused the rest of the guard for the most part, Stout took it as a personal offense and made it his personal duty to remove the slips from every surface he could find them. He even went so far as to request assistance from the Yellowjackets to aid in dealing with the threat - and was promptly laughed out of the building when shown the offending piece of "propaganda."

In fact, Stout's tirades seemed to bring even more attention to the mysterious concert. Hands other than the Roe's were taking the flyers down now, not to dispose of them, but to spirit them away to show friends and family. Along with them came rumors, tales of small figures roaming about in nondescript brown cloaks posting up the stubborn slips of paper, only to escape the comedic bunglings of a camp guard who had his belt on too tight.

A couple forgotten flyers tumbled through the streets of Ul'dah, others had made it as far as Gridania. All announcing the same concert at the same location, all with a shoddy sketch of the ruins for emphasis. To some, it was just a brief amusement. While to others it had become a much deeper curiosity.

And now the all-important time was drawing near. For at the bottom of the flyers was a date and time - this very sun, at the 19th bell. Stout had already boldly pronounced the sun before that he would go forth and cease this horrific debacle, catch these miscreants in the act and bring justice upon them.

But what of you? Will you go to aid in the guard's quest? Will you go to stop him? And what of the concert itself? What might it be?

There's time yet, of course. It's still bells before the appointed time, and poor Stout was refused time off to deal with this "impending threat." He would have to complete his daily work before he could set out to intercede. Time enough to go to offer help, to detain him, or to gather up some friends and colleagues to just enjoy the show.

After all, it's free, ain't it?

Cliaux had come across the flyer in Ul'dah at least a couple of times. Maybe once or twice it could have been considered a prank...but this was the fourth such leaflet that had crossed her vision.

She had heard of the area around the Wanderer's Palace. The stories it carried. And though she hadn't been there personally herself for all the stories of its dangers, how could she possibly resist a free concert from a troupe of completely mysterious performers?

It was all too much intrigue. Too shiny of a string to not pounce upon.

So she made her way from Ul'dah, taking the long trek towards the Palace. She travelled incredibly light to move at speed--a few daggers, a rolled up shawl of dark cloth, and a small pack of some hardtack biscuits and water for provisions. She would make good time and get to the concert at the appointed hour.

When she had made it to the forest, her travel changed dramatically, moving from trail to treetop, as the dark shawl was wrapped around her head and her movements becoming significantly more cautious. She was not about to be attacked by pirates, even for the love of music.

...unless, of course, pirates grew on trees?

E‘jusana was walking around the market in Limsa Lominsa with a large woven basket hooked in the crook of her arm as she looked for fresh fruits and vegetables for the day. As she perused the stalls brimming with a rainbow of goodies something caught her eye. It was a flyer pinned to the corner post of a stall it read

Quote:“FREE FIRST CONCERT OUTSIDE WANDERER’S PALACE RUINS. Come witness a new sound – with an open mind!”

Ana tugged the parchment from the nail and looked up at the sun and nodded to herself with a sparkle in her eye. The sun was still low, it was a beautiful morning as the sun tried to break through the remaining fog. Ana had wanted to make sure she went shopping before the crowds got bad and the food was still fresh. This sounds exciting, I don’t have any plans today and I love hearing new music. Hmm, I wonder who’s playing as her thought trailed off a smile crept upon her silent lips. I have time to get there before nightfall if I leave soon. Ana finished gathering a few more items for the journey to Camp Bronze Lake, placed the items into her basket, and walked out of the city to where her icy blue, feathered friend was waiting for her.

Ana gently petted her feathered friend’s neck as she gave a fresh krakka root to the beautiful chocobo and said “Are you ready for a little trip, Terra?” The chocobo was excited to see the treat and make a happy noise as she gobbled it down. Ana packed everything into a satchel hanging on the chocobo’s flank, re-checked the ties holding her bow and quiver in place under a flap of cloth on the other side of the saddle and then mounted the bird in one graceful motion. “Alright then, let’s go!” she said with a big smile.

Ana arrived at Camp Bronze Lake without much trouble and made good time considering the increased number of attacks on travelers recently. Since moving to the area a few months ago Ana was proud of herself for making sure she got good information from the locals on how to travel the safest and fastest routes to surrounding areas of her new home in the Mist. She sighed in relief upon safe arrival and started to look for a place to wait for the concert.

With the bright sun high overhead, Adeya Evenar wanders through the Limsa Lominsan markets, with no real destination in mind other than taking a brief respite from staring at books and documents until her eyes go cross. Pausing for a moment to glance at the wares of a hyur peddling clothes in a distinctly Ul’dahn style, she was about to move on when a poster tacked to a nearby stall caught her eye. Frowning slightly, her eyes run over the first few words—then she reaches up and snatches the parchment down, tearing it slightly in her haste. Barely even noticing this, she quickly begins to skim, her hands tightening on the paper with each line.

“What,” she finally says in a flat voice, her dark eyes narrowing as she stares at the badly done picture. Returning to the top of the paper, she slowly begins to reread it, as she was certain that she had missed something. But no; the words didn’t change. They definitely spelled out Wanderer’s Palace…

Adeya shakes her head as she crushes the paper in her hand, her expression torn between exasperation and disbelief. This sounded like a prank, more than anything else… yet she couldn’t afford to just ignore it either. The Wanderer’s Palace was important to her, both for its historical value and its prominence in her ongoing research. If there was something truly going on there then she would have to be there too, if only to make sure things didn’t get out of hand (or ruin anything she might need to study later).

A short time later, Adeya rode into view of Camp Bronze Lake. She had made good time, as both she and her blue-feathered chocobo had made this trip many, many times before, and were quite familiar with the area. Outside of the camp, she dismounts.

“Stay here Zephyr,” she says quietly to the bird, giving it a quick pat on the beak before heading towards where this “concert” was supposed to be taking place. As she walked, she was alert for any sign of other people, preferably ones who had come here for the same reason she had. After all, someone here would have to know more about what was going on. Right?

Concert!  Party time!!!

Around the area of Bronze Lake, a light sprinkle of rain began to fall, heralded with a rumbling peal of thunder that called for perhaps further rain. Stout held out a gnarled hand, palm up, from the safety of an overhang of rock and wood, and smiled grimly. He may not be able to deal with this threat of marauding musicians until his turn at watch was ended, but perhaps the Twelve themselves were moving to intervene against this debacle.

Of course, the Roegadyn would still head on that way to esnure a complete subjugation of these roguish misfits. And, apparently, whatever malcontents they had attracted as well. Any coming through to Camp Bronze Lake bearing one of those Twelve-forsaken slips of paper would get the stoniest of glares from him. He'd let them pass, of course, he had gotten a stern talking to before about waylaying potential spa-goers for such paltry reasons as their musical preferences. So, dismissals and tirades had been subdued into withering looks and silent judging.

Surely the nobler of hearts would be corrected from their erroneous ways by a curt glaring at, Stout thought with a curt nod, his steely gaze falling upon the latest arrivals. "Ho, travelers, and welcome to Camp Bronze Lake."

Further away, the light rain was having other effects. The most notable was the rousing of the local salamander population, the beasties venturing out further from their murky pools thanks to the added protection of rainwater on their slick skin. In fact, one particularly hefty one had decided to settle itself across the path leading to the ruins of the Palace proper and seemed fit to not budge. Should he not be dealt with, any of those seeking the concert itself would have to detour through the very marshes the salamanders had emerged from.

A few such concert-goers were caught in such an impasse, looking on at the dozing hunk of flab from the safety of some ruin overhangs. They seemed content enough to try and wait the giant hunk of flab out, rather than get swamp muck and Twelve-knows what else seeping into their boots. Not to mention they did not seem to keen on touching the slimy thing either.

"Tonberries."

Nathan was mere yalms from the edge of the tall bluffs at Swiftperch; the sounds of the sea below and the cool mists lifted by the winds were his only companions this night. The armored, yet sweet and flustered, blonde he'd met at the Quicksand the night before had been pleasant company, and he'd hoped to have gotten to know her a little better, despite her apparent naivete' and too-frequent mentions of her father, but the call to repay his debt to the innkeeper at Aleport had been too pressing, and so terrible necessities had given way to what could have been an interesting night indeed. However, the odd flyer had blown up to his feet on the road between the two La Noscean settlements, so something might yet come of it.

"Tonberry.. musicians."

He was stretched out on his sleeping pad, with the small tent nearby. The fire he'd built was down to glowing embers, but with the nearby torches of the farmstead, and the faint glow of Limsa Lominsa's towers in ready view, he still had enough light to read the flyer. Yet again.

"Oschon, you continue to remind me to be humble, even in my growing successes. Who am I to say no to providence?"

When the sun arose the next morning, he put the sunrise before him, and began the journey to Bronze Lake. Perhaps the show would be inspirational, and perhaps he might have call to pick up some new sounds, but at worst, there were always beautiful faces and bodies at the Springs there, and the mulled wine was quite refreshing, as he recalled, so what was there to lose? A good show made for good company, no matter which side of the stage he was on.

Cliaux grumbled as the first spits of rain began to tap against her head. It wasn't impossible to traverse the ruinous overhands or random tree in her upper-tier leaping, but it made it that much more treacherous. She had to slow her movement less she endanger herself and fall.

As she made her way, she noticed the salamanders stirring to douse in the rain. She curled her lip in disgust at the slimy things...and fair fully recoiled in horror when the much fatter one decided to lump itself directly in the path of the less fleet-footed below.

"Oh I was RELALY hoping I wouldn't get stuff on me either..." ,she muttered. She unwrapped her scarf from around her face, sighed, and flipped herself off of the outcropping, landing with a dull thud on her back. To the untrained eye, it'd look all the world like she had slipped and fell.

Cliaux grunted as she slowly brought herself up to a standing position, then rolled her arms. She smirked and gave a roguish wink to some of the nearby onlookers as she hooked her fists into her cesti and took up a fighting stance.

"Well, that big chunky lizard is just RUDE!"

That was a big salamander. Jancis stared across the old stone road at the beastly amphibian.

The conjurer had a habit of gathering up discarded papers to use, even if it meant pulping down and mashing back into parchment, and came across the flyer. Interested at music and anything that said 'a new experience' piqued her curiosity.

Growing closer to the crowd that was also looking, she heard the complaints. "Well, that big chunky lizard is just RUDE!" came from somewhere. 

Just rude. Surely the creature did not realize the problem it posed.

Trotting up the steps to the hot springs and the tavern there, Jancis pulled whatever gil she had out and asked for dodo eggs. They were so common on the island, and she got some awkward looks when she asked for them raw. Failing to haggle well at all and the merchant quick to see an easy target, they agreed, selling off half a dozen of the spotted eggs.

Heading back to the gathering crowd the plan was simple. Eggs were a tasty treat. Surely it would be a fair trade to the salamander for moving across the way. What could go wrong?

Adeya glanced up towards the sky as a drop of water fell square on the center of her head, and then scowled in annoyance as another hit her on the nose. “Of course it would rain,” she mutters under her breath as she pulls her long blue coat closer around herself. Ironically, she normally liked rain, which made her even more cross that it had decided to happen now, as almost despite herself she was curious about what was going to happen here.

Shaking her head, she trudges onward, secretly being glad that she had decided to wear both coat and boots for this endeavor. She almost felt bad for the people gathered up ahead: some of them looked as if they had come for the hot springs rather than a trek out to the La Noscean ruins. With the rain coming down, some of them had to be getting cold…

Wait a minute, why were those people standing there?

“Excuse me,” she calls out as she struggles to make out anything over the heads of hyurs and elezen much taller than herself—then when that doesn’t work the small miqo’te pushes her way to the front of the crowd, ignoring the nasty looks a few people throw her way. It was all worth it in the end after all, as when she got up there she was met with a rather strange sight. A woman staring down what looked like a rather large salamander. That just wasn’t something you saw every day.

“That seems a tad excessive,” she remarks mildly as she takes a few steps forward. Absentmindedly one of her hands drifts down to the spellbook at her side as she studies the creature in front of them. Truth be told, her spells would probably do as much damage to the creature as the woman’s fists, unless she could convince it to chase after a carbuncle or something. And given how content the creature seemed where it was, she didn’t think that was likely.

For a moment she glances back towards the rest of the crowd, to see if anyone else had any ideas.

"Um..." a Plainsfolk Lalafell quietly piped up, nervously adjusting her glasses. "A-actually, salamanders are not actually lizards. They're technically amphibi-ow!"

The quick bop to the head from what one would assume was the Lalafell's friend cut her correction short. The little popoto rubbed tenderly at the spot she was hit as her companion - a female Highlander with a flaming orange mane - straightened and gently rubbed the underside of her palm. Perhaps the little Plainsfolk's skull had grown tough from the rather slapstick nature of their relationship.

"Nobody cares, Oriri."

"B-but, it's true..." the Lalafell urged softly, earning herself a nudge with a muddy boot that sent her tumbling sideways a couple steps before righting herself. This was still enough to send her knee-deep into the muck, however, and the Plainsfolk made the saddest of faces as she schlepped and schlorped her way back onto relatively drier ground. The Hyur merely grinned at the spectacle, enjoying tormenting her much smaller comrade far too much.

The bloated hulk of a salamander, however, seemed much more content with its muck-filled situation. It even shivered a bit in delight as the rain continued to caress its massive bulk. The quivering of its slimy flesh made it seem almost gelatinous instead of a beast of rubbery flesh. To those of a more sensitive stomach, the very act was quite nauseating. The salamander itself didn't seem to mind; it was fat and happy.

At least, it was happy until it started getting noisy during its nap. The initial, fairly quiet mutterings of the amassing crowd were easy enough to ignore, since it faded seamlessly into the pitter-patter of the rain. It was only as the chatter grew noisier - along with the the splashing antics of a particular Plainsfolk - and more irate that the salamander began to shift about some to show its displeasure. In the end, it was a particularly loud one shouting something in its direction that finally got it to lazily open one glistening black eye to see the cause of the racket.

That dull black orb settled quickly enough on the Elezen in front of him, drawing most of its attention. It rolled its arrow-shaped head to one side, as if the change in view would make the obnoxious thing disappear. When it did not, it simply let out a muted whine that engulfed poor Cliaux in a wall of hot breath that stank of swamp water and mud. With its displeasure thusly aired, it settled back down with a snort.

The snort, however, brought new information to the flabby brute. In particular, it brought a particular scent.  The salamander sniffed once, then twice more in quick succession, to ensure it was smelling what it thought it smelled. Its eyes snapped open. Eggs.

Eggseggseggseggs.

Already suffering from salamander breath, Cliaux was quickly put into another predicament as the slimy-skinned behemoth trundled eagerly forward in search of those dodo eggs.

Cliaux's eyes nearly rolled into her head as she was absolutely washed with the salamander's breathy protest. She staggered backwards, making several completely unladylike wretching sounds. She stood aghast, arms hanging at her sides as if she was covered in a sort of film.

"Awgh...how FOUL! What did you eat, an entire lichyard?!"

Apparently the salamander didn't take too terribly kindly to being taunted, as the gelatinous reptile...or lizard, depending on who you asked...lumbered its bulk at her, snorting as if she was suddenly an hors d'oeuvres.

She reeled back in disgusted fright as the jelly-like beast made for her. She then recomposed herself and took up her stance on instinct, fists raised as it began to close the distance. "I really REALLY don't wanna do this to you, but..you leave me no choice, Stinky!" ,she challenged, half-threatening, half-hoping that it could perhaps suddenly rethink its course of action.

The cloak, rain-sodden and clingy as it was, could only hide so much of its wearer. It was obvious that the personage was tall, too broad-shouldered to be an Elezen, and not yet bulky enough to be a Roegadyn.

They could call it Bronze Lake if they wanted, he told himself, but in the inclement weather, it might as well be Mirk Moor, or the Flood Flows, or something about mud and muck and marsh. Yet, to complain about rain was like to spend one's day slapping a Goobbue with a stick - it wasn't going to change anything, and most likely would leave one simply feeling much worse.

He had finally come close enough to notice the growing throng of people, apparently music lovers whose enthusiasm could not be dampened even by drizzle and downpour - his kind of people, mayhap. Something had stirred them, but it wasn't music, yet, unless the sounds of these Tonberries sounded like women yelling and large things slithering in muck.

As it turned out, the spectacle apparently was, indeed a woman yelling, and a disturbingly large Eft menacing the crowd, and ignoring the source of the feminine shouts: A lithe Elezen, who appeared instead to be charging at the sodden beast, with raised fists.

A dirty joke flew through his mind about pretty women punching salamanders, but he bit his lip to stifle it, and began to reach for his bow, which was tucked under the cloak, even though the rain would play havoc with the bowstring.

As the situation continued to devolve Adeya grimaced. Clearly neither woman nor amphibian were planning on backing off. For a moment she watched, silently considering whether to just let things run their course; however, as the woman began to yell she sighed and opened her spellbook, her fingers quickly flipped to one of the pages she had marked in advance for situations like this. Briefly ignoring everything else that was going on, with practiced movements she quickly traces out the spell written on the page.

Finishing the spell with a small flourish, she snaps her red book shut as a carbuncle appears before her in a small burst of light. The light blue creature gazed up at her for a moment with an expression not unlike a dog awaiting a command, before Adeya lifted her free hand and pointed at the woman facing off against the salamander.

“Help her Cyan,” she orders, and at once the small summon would take off towards the pair. Meanwhile Adeya would watch with sharp eyes and book still in hand as the carbuncle would try to move to stand next to the elezen. With its black eyes fixed on the salamander, the summons tails would lash behind it as it awaited the command to attack.

As quickly as the carbuncle closed the distance to the braced elezen lady, Jancis widened her steps to meet up with her as well. The 'aroma' was quite pungent and Jancis saved her breath to not yell and disturb the beast further.

But in doing so she also didn't do much to announce her presence on approaching Cliaux, coming up around the poised woman from the side in front of her fists, Jancis' arms overloaded with dodo eggs.

Awkwardly, finally in range over the noise of the rain and the meandering salamander, Jancis spouted out, "Lady, pray be careful-" 

She interrupted herself, realizing she was in-between a woman ready to punch, and might do so, and a hulking slime-skinned behemoth from the lake.

Was this concert going to become a fiasco? Moments drew themselves out into eons...