There are no heroes. Only courage and good equipment. [Background Story, ongoing] - Printable Version +- Hydaelyn Role-Players (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18) +-- Forum: Role-Play (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18/forumdisplay.php?fid=27) +--- Forum: Town Square (IC) (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: There are no heroes. Only courage and good equipment. [Background Story, ongoing] (/showthread.php?tid=2431)

There are no heroes. Only courage and good equipment. [Background Story, ongoing] - Akki-Chan - 06-26-2013 Things weremoving relatively smoothly. The construction workers were hard at work, the great halls were looking more impressive by the day. Crafting stations were getting installed, the gardens were prepared to be planted with fresh green all around. The whole place was brimming with activity. And that, the ambitious sun seeker hoped, would stay like that once the construction finished. She looked at a large sign that would soon find its place over the gates leading into the main hall of her company. In large, proud letters, the sign read "There are no heroes. Only courage and good equipment." With a satisfied grin on the pale lips, she nods to the workers that were just carrying the large sign by. "Great, just like I wanted it. Onwards, boys!" Climbing the stairs into the first floor, she leaned against a large stone pillar and looked over the crafting halls below. It was about time... The world needed heroes, capable warriors and adventurers. But there was something she believed, the world needed even more than that. A brand name to equip these adventurers first top notch quality. A faint chuckle sounds from her lips, as she closes the differently colored eyes and thinks back. Not too long ago, she was giving a speech on the topic to gather willing workers around her. In her mind she recalls the moment when she was standing in front of the large construction site. Her memories blur how many people were there that day. No matter how hard she tries, she simply cannot remember. "The whole of Eorzea is taking up arms these days. You cannot walk down a single street without someone calling out to you to recruit you to take up the sword and fight for what is right! Many of our friends, our families have answered to this call and have set out to seek the many wrongs in our troubled world. So, why did WE remained behind, in the safety of our walls and our homes? Some say we are cowards. Say that our courage does not measure up to those that left to fight. I cannot speak for the all of us... but I know why I chose to remain. My skills, my duty and my conviction are not served out there! They will serve HERE. Because I saw what this world needs..." She recalls having to take a deep breath there, because her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would choke her any second. "I will serve the adventurers and future heroes of our world in a way I know I can. In a world they will appreciate. In a way that can carry them to victory. We are a city of craftsman. Of artisans. Of merchants. Yet here we are, all trying to go through the day and make ends meet, peddling our wares one for himself. What suffers in the end, is what we are selling. Our materials run short, we settle for bad materials because we cannot afford the good things in our struggle for competition. Is that what we want to offer our friends and family, who left to fight for everyone’s freedom and safety? No... They deserve THE BEST. They deserve to fight in the best gear they can possibly carry. And for THAT, i will work. What we are building here today, will one day we a name every adventurer out there knows. And will turn to when the need for new gear arises. Today, thee Silver Anvil, will make its rise. As a gathering of united craftsman, eager to serve the greater good. Blacksmith, chefs, goldsmith, carpenter, alchemists, whatever! If you are able to craft something, no matter how small, the anvil has use for you! And, by extension, everyone who fights out there. Because, with your help, we can make THEM win the fight! Someday soon, this place will open its gates.. And I will be waiting. For every one of you who is willing to join the war from behind a crafting station, will find home, work and shelter in these halls!" Maybe it was just her imagination. A fabrication of her memory to make her feel better. but she remembers the sound of applauding people all over the place. And that, so she hoped, was a good sign. Soon, this building would be fully done, and things would start to get serious. But she was ready.. She was burning to get started. This was an opportunity.. not only to make some serious fortune.. for she genuinely believed, that a company like this, could change the world. And win a war. It had all just begun here. And yet.. it felt like she had been here before. Waiting for a chance to start anew. What a curious feeling... [Next up: Chapter 1 - Dry earth breeds misfortune. RE: There are no heroes. Only courage and good equipment. [Background Story, ongoing] - Akki-Chan - 06-28-2013 Chapter 1. Dry earth breeds misfortune  While wandering around the construction site of the Anvil, the sun seekers mind wandered through the past. Most notably through memories of how she got to where she is today. One of them stands out more than anything else among the chaos of her mind. Many years ago... While her life took place in constant travel between Ul'Dah and the great forests of Gridania.   ...   "Alright then, Mister Rock. Time to establish some basics here. You don't seem to like me. And I sure as heck don't like you. You and your kin made my childhood a hungry hell. Quite frankly, I have no idea why I should respect you in the first place. You have done nothing for me other then make my life miserable."   Here she was, sitting in a lone room in the Conjurer school of Gridania. She hated almost every minute of it.. But she had reason to be here, at least for now. Her attempts at the conjuring branch of magic were of little success though... Her friends and teachers kept repeating the same issue with her. She did not respected nature on itself, so nature was not responding to her calls for aid. And now she's talking to a piece of rock on her desk. Needless to add, she felt like a total too, talking to it.   "Yeah you just sit there in mocking silence, like you always do. Really I don't get these tree huggers around here. You're a friggin piece of rock. I’m talking to a rock, twelve’s sake..  ... Sigh... Fine. Fiiiine. Let's try this more seriously. So. How is, being a rock, and all."   For a moment, she stared at the dark rock in questioning silence. It was a rock so painfully common it made the whole room more boring just by sitting there. It wasn’t particularly clean, either. So she had to make it sit on a piece of cloth to not get her desk dirty. Unsurprisingly, the rock refused to change its attitude towards the young Miqo'Te and remained silent.   "... Yeah what was I expecting." Giving a deep, pained groan, she leans backwards into her chair, covering her face with both hands, took a deep breath and then slowly stood up, walking in small, random circles around her room, more or less rambling to herself.   "So, let me get this out of the way. Ever since I was little, living in Ul'Dah was not funny. Harvests get worse year by year by year, and because we were piss-poor, we got the biggest brunt of this ourselves. Yeah, damn right, I blame YOU and the other rocks for that. I swear your cousins in Ul'Dah are trying to kill us all! Why should I respect any of you, we have to claw a living out of every single corner in this sun burned land and YOU aren't exactly helping!" Flailing her hands aimlessly in the air as she walked around the room, rambling to herself and giving death glares to the unmoving piece of rock on her desk.   "Day in and out, working hard for the faintest scrap of food or a handful of coins. People told me I should be grateful for such a hard childhood, well tell you what you jerk of a rock, I AM NOT! It sucked! Hard! And I am not happy about that! Unlike around here, where it's green and fertile and lush in every gods damned corner, nature did it's hardest to try and kill us all down there. I have no respect for attempted murder, do you?!"   Growling, she walked up to the desk, staring at the piece of rock. The multicolored eyes burning in anger and frustration as she glared down on the piece of rock. "Nature has no concept of fairness. Of gratitude. Of justice. Nature is chaotic, cruel and selfish. How can one respect that, I wonder.." She recalled faintly the face of one of her closer friends who attended this school. In her mind she saw the young, innocent face and the dazzling smile on her lips as she proudly proclaimed "Nature is beautiful, it gives us so much and asks for so little." The moment she recalled that, a sudden surge of rage rushed through her body. With frustrated roar of anger and pain, she grabs the rock from her desk, turns around and hurls the rock across the room, making it crash violently against the bare wall. The rock shatters and crumbled to the ground.   Panting deeply, she stood there for a moment in silence, until the fit of rage slowly fades. "You have nothing. Nothing I would willingly respect you for." She looked down to the shattered pieces of rock. Something appeared a little odd to her. Walking closer, she picked up a few of the rock fragments, inspecting the cracks and the color on the insides. A slight grin slipping around her lips. "Alternatively though... We might come to an agreement..."   Bringing the fragments of rock to her desk, she put the fragments back on the piece of cloth, opening her desk and pulling a few things out she brought with her from Ul'Dah. A small, fragile looking hammer, a matching sized tweezers, and other tools of small size.   A few hours, a lot of brute force and delicate work later.. She looked at something that looked somewhat like a chunk of impure ore, molded together in the rough, unrefined shape of a coin. It was deliberately crude, as she was working with the rawest of materials and only her hands as well as simple tools. "I cannot respect you for what you are. But I might be able to respect you for what I can take from you."   Awakening from her memory, back at the construction site, she smiles silently, feeling the weight of the silver necklace around her neck, with the crude ore dangling from it between her breasts. For her, this piece of ore was not only a memory of how she got here, but also a reminder of how she could reason with nature. She was not a conjurer at heart, but sometimes, a compromise was the best way to go.   And for now, that was enough.   [Coming up next: Chapter 2 - Polished Metal, Sharpened Steel] RE: There are no heroes. Only courage and good equipment. [Background Story, ongoing] - Akki-Chan - 07-24-2013 Chapter 2: Polished Metal, Sharpened Steel "I hate you! I hate you ALL! I don't want this anymore! I’m SICK of it! I was not born to serve as your free of charge farmhand! I am done working my ass off in this shithole you call home! This place will NEVER give you anything else then dust and death!" Words that echoed so clearly in her mind. She heard them whenever she was deep in thought about her past. It was a milestone in her life, if perhaps a sad one. Or so would others say. For her, it was the moment when she stood up for her own freedom and convictions. The moment when she took arms... Maybe a little too literally. Giving in into the thoughts, she sat down in the large room that would one day soon be the furnace. Between crates filled with metals, anvils and blacksmith gear, she had a weak smile on her lips. She reached out to a nearby open crate and pulled something out that appeared to be a decorational shield that would adorn the wall soon. It was a simple work, a hoplon made of polished brass and copper. It was a cheap, if beautiful, piece of work. It would never hold for more than a few hard blows before the copper plate would dislodge itself and make the shield practically useless. She was no blacksmith, but she knew a few things about shields. Yes, it was... just like this day back then. "Don't be ridiculous child! We need you here; you can't just pack up and GO! You should show a little mor-" The imposing miqo'te man was cut sort, as his young daughter swiped her arm over the table, almost flipping the frail looking wooden table over, her multicolored eyes burning with hate, disgust and defiance. "Don't you DARE to tell me to be grateful! Ever since I was old enough you had me work my back off in these fields that will NEVER grow enough to make a decent living, much less make any sort of profit out of it! Don't you ever DARE to tell me how I should behave! You lost every SCRAP of right to dictate a single thing about my life you pathetic slave driver!" Wood shattered as the table was eventually flipped over for good, the young girl staring up to her father. While he was almost twice her size, she would rather die on the spot then backing off ever again. She would make her stand here and today. Her father was not exactly a man of great words. Actions tend to speak louder than stern words. Nothing that Hiname wouldn't see coming though. She knew all too well how her father tends to deal with disobedience. She knew the way he swings his hand, how fast and how hard. A dull, smacking sound as Hiname's arm gets between her face and her father’s hand, deflecting the blow at the wrist, she couldn't stop it fully, as the man in front of her was easily twice her size in almost every dimension. But it was enough to prevent her from taking the full blow to the face what would have easily forced her to her knees, if not the ground in total. "Yes, this is your way, is it not... This is the language you understand, if someone doesn't comply with your view." In a rage-fueled motion, Hiname spun around, swiped the broken table's plate from the ground, held it like a large shield while swinging around and colliding, with full force and velocity, against her father’s front, smashing the solid wood against his stomach. Hiname was not helpless; she was strong enough to fight for her own. Maybe the only thing she was grateful that life of work had done for her. The sound of the hulking man crashing onto the ground was one of the most satisfying sounds she ever heard in her life. "I’m done with you. I’m done with this place." Still holding the makeshift "shield", she walked past the groaning man, into her room and picked up the backpack she was holding ready. It contained everything she had she could call her own. She refused to take everything with her that wasn’t hers. She passed a painting of the family tree. She simply growl, walked up to it and scratched her name and picture from the painting on the way out. The rising sun was greeting her, creeping over the mountainside. Slamming the door behind her, she looked grim up to the mountain ridges, though she could not help a light smirk as she did. It felt good, to be finally free, to be greeted by the rising sun on what seemed to become a calm day. A good start. "And where do you think you're going, young lady Adaman?" The voice of her mother that was working outside while she was arguing with her father. That woman had the tendency to add this name when she wanted to sound most intimidating. As usual, she failed at it. Hiname simply gave her a freezing stare of spite and disgust. "Who? .. My name is Dawnpride." Back in the furnace, the young miqo'te smiles lightly, putting the decorative shield back into the open crate and got back on her feet. She never looked back. She never missed home. She never returned. Nor will she ever do. "Hmm.. well. Maybe one day. To simply buy the place and build something useful on it." She said to herself with a sly grin and then took a peek into the other crates. Swords, shields, lances, select pieces of armor.. The furnace sure would look a bit like an armory eventually. She picked up a matching pair of metal shield and sword. They felt heavy, but well balanced and well crafted. It felt comforting.. While she was not the adventuring type, she learned how to fight with these things. But that was a memory for another day. [Next up: Chapter 3: Of gold, silver and dedication.]