(((***MATURE CONTENT IN SOME PARTS***)))
The cold winds of Coerthas seemed to pound on the caravan and would not let up. Pyralis thought it some type of warning from the Gods that going alone on this scouting mission was not the best idea. But he did his best work solo and when it came to stealth he felt as if no one else could compare. He smirked to himself as he sat on a pile of leathers, a merchant caravan was always the best way to travel and raised less eyes when they would come in and out of various places. The only problem was the frequent shake-downs by bored guards looking for drinking or whoring money. Luckily, it had been a quite trip and his driver was an ugly looking Midlander named Leighton. One of his many eyes and ears that could be in various places when he needed them to be.
The winds struck the caravan again and he heard Leighton curse loudly. The poor man had to suffer in the cold while he would rest in the warmth of the leathers of the caravan. He ran a hand over his finely crafted bow that had served him so well throughout the years. For better or for worse it had done many evils and many goods. It saved and damned so many, why did he keep it around? Perhaps it was the balance of it all. You needed evil in the world as much as you needed good right? The constant struggle between light versus dark, good versus evil, good guys vs bad guys. Where did he fit in now? Was he a bad guy gone good or a man who has always been good? Could the sins of his past ever been forgiven or would they burden his future? He sighed and pulled his hood down further to try and get some rest. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep.
When he stirred awake he was in a desert, not Coerthas. He wore clothes of a beggar and held a staff in one hand and a spear in the other. It was scorching hot and there didn’t appear to be a soul anywhere in sight. He looked to the staff and spear in his hand and was amazed at the fine level of detail in them as well as the power emanating from it. The staff felt...peaceful, light, wise, and like it had no end. The spear felt powerful, fierce, destructive, resolute, and an end in sight. How was it even possible for two inanimate objects to feel such a way? As he remained focus studying the objects the sands around him swirled around in a funnel and immediately caught his attention. When the sand whirlwind died Twelve symbols were left in its place. He tried to cover his eyes but the light of each symbol blinded him and forced him to relive memories against his will. Pyralis fell on his knees clutching the spear and staff in each hand to hold himself up as each memory hit him full force...
Witness….Azeyma the Warden, Goddess of Inquiry
Broken wandering the Shroud with her blood on his hands. He couldn’t accept the fact she was gone, she was really gone. A million questions in his head, a decision to seek revenge, but with so many questions left unanswered, how could he ever quench his thirst for blood?
Suffer….Rhalgr the destroyer, God of Destruction
The sound of the arrow piercing the flesh, the cries of men and women dying to his hands. The fires of villages, the sounds of children begging for their parents. The feeling of warm blood dripping from his hands, his mouth, his eyes, his ears...pain and destruction with his every waking step and no end in sight. The sound of allies dying around him, darkness, fire...how could there be darkness when the fire was so hot? Shouldn’t he be blinded instead by its brightness?
Borrow….Nald’thal, the Traders, God of Commerce
The whimpers of men, women, children being stuffed into cages. They weren’t considered living beings anymore, they were property. Sold to the highest bidder to do with as they please. The younger women were subjugated to ‘virginity’ checks as they sold for the highest. It pained him greatly at first to watch suffering on each face as they passed by and were passed on. Yet the coin that flowed into their hands was vast and great. The pain became dull in his stomach and heart and was replaced by piles of gil.
Reason….Thaliak, the Scholar, God of Knowledge
To become the best at what you do you must learn all there is to know of your targets, Aurifort taught him that. It was the first thing he would learn when he became his prized possession. At first it was purely academic; reading, writing, spelling, math, fine arts, dancing, music, and various other topics to learn all there was to know about people. Everyone is distrustful at first and you can tell what can earn their trust through body language or spying on prior conversations. She saw through it all when he met her so long ago. No matter how hard he tried to convince her he was this grand person, she fell for no lies. Chiara was the true knowledge in his life. He learnt far more from her than all his years studying people.
Follow….Llymlaen, the Navigator, Goddess of Navigation
The wind blew on his flesh as he observed the shroud from high above. Using the growth of the shroud itself to dictate his path. She was gone, the green haired Miqo’te wanted to stay together but in his grief he struck her and called her a slave. Now he wandered the shroud looking for a sign, looking for hope, for a sign this was all a dream. No signs came though and he was left without his moral compass. He was moving blindly till he found her standing outside of the Quicksand with her golden hair and eyes of the sea….Evaleigh, you are the light that guides me.
Stumble….Halone, the Fury, Goddess of War
He wasn’t there but he saw it through a dream...the calamity, the end of an era. Wings that covered the land in shadow and scorched Eorzea with flames of fury and anger. He wasn’t himself, he was a man in silver armor worrying about a son in the Shroud. The retreat was called and the war was lost by both sides. There would be no escape and he never got the chance to tell his son he was sorry for the way things ended. But the war of old was done and did not affect them anymore. Belmont, Lady Rhi, Fafajoni, and so many other enemies with daggers to his back and neck. He knew there were others fighting within him but would anything be left for them when all was said and done?
Wander….Oschon, the Wanderer, God of Vagrants
He traveled and wandered so often he had taken to introducing himself as the ‘Wandering Bard’. Never staying in one place for more than a couple of Suns and always sleeping with whatever woman offered the warmth of her embrace. But the wandering started to cease when he found companionship with so many in Ul’dah. Meyla, Zanin, Ihrie, Atticus, Kiht, Augustus, and so many others that he met there. They were all like him and had no true home, vagrants with different stories to their names. But the memory shifted and he was walking through the frozen Tundra of Coerthas. The staff in hand as he felt his hands begin to feel numb and his body with it. He kept walking for what felt like several bells in the snow and the entire time feeling as if he was following in someone else’s footsteps. A large chill ran down his spine.
Listen….Byregot, the Builder, God of the Arts
The sounds of the entire tavern joining in the song of the ‘Bear and the Maiden Fair’. Women who do not oft drink in such high quantities have the prettiest color to their cheeks. Men would embrace one another and forget their trespasses against one another for a couple of bells with his music. The feel of the strings against his fingertips as he continued to play and call the attention of the entire room. This was who he was when the mask fell off and he did not have the worries of the world on his shoulders. A true bard who played such wonderful tunes to put away all sorrows and pain. The harp and strings never felt so alive in his hands. The laughter and singing continued till it faded away and left him with a satisfied smile on his lips.
Whisper….Menphina, the Lover, Goddess of Love
He lay on top of her running his fingertips along her neck as he leaned in to place a deep and passionate kiss on her lips. She blushed slightly but willingly spread her legs for him as her sex glistened for him. Their lips parted and he groaned in frustration that they should be even a moment apart. The initial penetration of his manhood into her waiting sex was everything and more. The sounds of their passion escaping both of their lips as they tried to keep quiet to avoid getting caught. But who lay under him? At first it was simply a beautiful face, a woman who he simply wanted to beg for more of him. After it was Chiara, trying to suppress both of their passionate cries when they both climaxed and created a life. Finally, it was the woman he loved above all others. Evaleigh wrapped her arms around his neck and the sweat on her body glistened in the light. She was perfect and beautiful in every way to him as she closed her eyes and let out a cry of passion.
Shoulder….Nymeia, the Spinner, Goddess of Fate
The jewel rested in the palm of his hand as it glowed a vibrant red before turning prismatic. All the colors shining off of it and almost blinding him with its radiance. He wanted to use the jewel to conquer those who were weak, who didn’t deserve the freedom they were given. For the hearts of men and women are weak and only those who are above corruption should rule. But it dawned on him that these were not his words but those of the jewel. It provided such power, such passion, and such arrogance that it would blind weaker men. He squeezed the jewel with all his might till it shattered and turned into sand. Evaleigh placed a hand to his heart, Chiara placed a hand to his head, and Meyla placed a hand onto his.
Evaleigh spoke first, “Life before Death, my love.â€
Chiara spoke second, “Strength before Weakness, my light.â€
Meyla spoke last, “Journey before Destination, Pyralis.â€
The immortal words that bound him to something higher than himself. He opened his eyes and saw those who has hated but were not truly even, Thad, at the forefront, “I will protect even those I hate, so long as it is right.â€
Weather….Nophica, the Matron, Goddess of Abundance
The rain fell down on his head but it didn’t bother him. These were peaceful times at least and he was going to take full advantage of it. Evaleigh laughed at a joke he said about fertilizer and plants and of course not missing a beat she returned a jest of her own. If they could have a life after all these struggles and pains he hoped it would be like this. Gardening and having the joy of each other’s company and no stress about the threat of death. One thing he knew for certain was that there was no way he was going to eat any of these things after spreading all that poop on it.
Ponder…..Alythk, the Keeper, God of Time
Finally darkness and silence. When he opened his eyes he saw for the briefest moment his fate and it made him pale. The future….
Leighton shouted for the seventh time, “OYE! You alive back there? This is as far as I can get ye!â€
Pyralis flung some leathers around and was breathing heavily. It was all a dream...a dream probably from that stupid jewel. Even when it wasn’t entirely whole it was a pain in the ass. Pyralis shouted back as he began to gather his belongings, “Aye! I heard ye, Leighton! Give me a Gods damn second to gather my things, aye?â€
When he made sure he wasn’t shivering and had calmed down he made his way out of the caravan. He jumped down in his warmest clothing making sure to cover his silver hair and face. All around there was nothing but snow and a run down large Keep. The once metal gates left to rust and ruin. The walls seeming to fall apart of this Keep although it was possible to tell that at one point it had been stunning. As he started to walk closer and closer he had the sound of the harp being played. A sweet yet sad melody that tugged on the strings of his heart. This is the place where Ihrie had been...this is where his ‘mother’ was. He took in a large breath of cold air and headed towards the entrance.
((Life before death, strength before weakness, and journey before destination sauce:Â http://stormlightarchive.wikia.com/wiki/Immortal_Words))
The cold winds of Coerthas seemed to pound on the caravan and would not let up. Pyralis thought it some type of warning from the Gods that going alone on this scouting mission was not the best idea. But he did his best work solo and when it came to stealth he felt as if no one else could compare. He smirked to himself as he sat on a pile of leathers, a merchant caravan was always the best way to travel and raised less eyes when they would come in and out of various places. The only problem was the frequent shake-downs by bored guards looking for drinking or whoring money. Luckily, it had been a quite trip and his driver was an ugly looking Midlander named Leighton. One of his many eyes and ears that could be in various places when he needed them to be.
The winds struck the caravan again and he heard Leighton curse loudly. The poor man had to suffer in the cold while he would rest in the warmth of the leathers of the caravan. He ran a hand over his finely crafted bow that had served him so well throughout the years. For better or for worse it had done many evils and many goods. It saved and damned so many, why did he keep it around? Perhaps it was the balance of it all. You needed evil in the world as much as you needed good right? The constant struggle between light versus dark, good versus evil, good guys vs bad guys. Where did he fit in now? Was he a bad guy gone good or a man who has always been good? Could the sins of his past ever been forgiven or would they burden his future? He sighed and pulled his hood down further to try and get some rest. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep.
When he stirred awake he was in a desert, not Coerthas. He wore clothes of a beggar and held a staff in one hand and a spear in the other. It was scorching hot and there didn’t appear to be a soul anywhere in sight. He looked to the staff and spear in his hand and was amazed at the fine level of detail in them as well as the power emanating from it. The staff felt...peaceful, light, wise, and like it had no end. The spear felt powerful, fierce, destructive, resolute, and an end in sight. How was it even possible for two inanimate objects to feel such a way? As he remained focus studying the objects the sands around him swirled around in a funnel and immediately caught his attention. When the sand whirlwind died Twelve symbols were left in its place. He tried to cover his eyes but the light of each symbol blinded him and forced him to relive memories against his will. Pyralis fell on his knees clutching the spear and staff in each hand to hold himself up as each memory hit him full force...
Witness….Azeyma the Warden, Goddess of Inquiry
Broken wandering the Shroud with her blood on his hands. He couldn’t accept the fact she was gone, she was really gone. A million questions in his head, a decision to seek revenge, but with so many questions left unanswered, how could he ever quench his thirst for blood?
Suffer….Rhalgr the destroyer, God of Destruction
The sound of the arrow piercing the flesh, the cries of men and women dying to his hands. The fires of villages, the sounds of children begging for their parents. The feeling of warm blood dripping from his hands, his mouth, his eyes, his ears...pain and destruction with his every waking step and no end in sight. The sound of allies dying around him, darkness, fire...how could there be darkness when the fire was so hot? Shouldn’t he be blinded instead by its brightness?
Borrow….Nald’thal, the Traders, God of Commerce
The whimpers of men, women, children being stuffed into cages. They weren’t considered living beings anymore, they were property. Sold to the highest bidder to do with as they please. The younger women were subjugated to ‘virginity’ checks as they sold for the highest. It pained him greatly at first to watch suffering on each face as they passed by and were passed on. Yet the coin that flowed into their hands was vast and great. The pain became dull in his stomach and heart and was replaced by piles of gil.
Reason….Thaliak, the Scholar, God of Knowledge
To become the best at what you do you must learn all there is to know of your targets, Aurifort taught him that. It was the first thing he would learn when he became his prized possession. At first it was purely academic; reading, writing, spelling, math, fine arts, dancing, music, and various other topics to learn all there was to know about people. Everyone is distrustful at first and you can tell what can earn their trust through body language or spying on prior conversations. She saw through it all when he met her so long ago. No matter how hard he tried to convince her he was this grand person, she fell for no lies. Chiara was the true knowledge in his life. He learnt far more from her than all his years studying people.
Follow….Llymlaen, the Navigator, Goddess of Navigation
The wind blew on his flesh as he observed the shroud from high above. Using the growth of the shroud itself to dictate his path. She was gone, the green haired Miqo’te wanted to stay together but in his grief he struck her and called her a slave. Now he wandered the shroud looking for a sign, looking for hope, for a sign this was all a dream. No signs came though and he was left without his moral compass. He was moving blindly till he found her standing outside of the Quicksand with her golden hair and eyes of the sea….Evaleigh, you are the light that guides me.
Stumble….Halone, the Fury, Goddess of War
He wasn’t there but he saw it through a dream...the calamity, the end of an era. Wings that covered the land in shadow and scorched Eorzea with flames of fury and anger. He wasn’t himself, he was a man in silver armor worrying about a son in the Shroud. The retreat was called and the war was lost by both sides. There would be no escape and he never got the chance to tell his son he was sorry for the way things ended. But the war of old was done and did not affect them anymore. Belmont, Lady Rhi, Fafajoni, and so many other enemies with daggers to his back and neck. He knew there were others fighting within him but would anything be left for them when all was said and done?
Wander….Oschon, the Wanderer, God of Vagrants
He traveled and wandered so often he had taken to introducing himself as the ‘Wandering Bard’. Never staying in one place for more than a couple of Suns and always sleeping with whatever woman offered the warmth of her embrace. But the wandering started to cease when he found companionship with so many in Ul’dah. Meyla, Zanin, Ihrie, Atticus, Kiht, Augustus, and so many others that he met there. They were all like him and had no true home, vagrants with different stories to their names. But the memory shifted and he was walking through the frozen Tundra of Coerthas. The staff in hand as he felt his hands begin to feel numb and his body with it. He kept walking for what felt like several bells in the snow and the entire time feeling as if he was following in someone else’s footsteps. A large chill ran down his spine.
Listen….Byregot, the Builder, God of the Arts
The sounds of the entire tavern joining in the song of the ‘Bear and the Maiden Fair’. Women who do not oft drink in such high quantities have the prettiest color to their cheeks. Men would embrace one another and forget their trespasses against one another for a couple of bells with his music. The feel of the strings against his fingertips as he continued to play and call the attention of the entire room. This was who he was when the mask fell off and he did not have the worries of the world on his shoulders. A true bard who played such wonderful tunes to put away all sorrows and pain. The harp and strings never felt so alive in his hands. The laughter and singing continued till it faded away and left him with a satisfied smile on his lips.
Whisper….Menphina, the Lover, Goddess of Love
He lay on top of her running his fingertips along her neck as he leaned in to place a deep and passionate kiss on her lips. She blushed slightly but willingly spread her legs for him as her sex glistened for him. Their lips parted and he groaned in frustration that they should be even a moment apart. The initial penetration of his manhood into her waiting sex was everything and more. The sounds of their passion escaping both of their lips as they tried to keep quiet to avoid getting caught. But who lay under him? At first it was simply a beautiful face, a woman who he simply wanted to beg for more of him. After it was Chiara, trying to suppress both of their passionate cries when they both climaxed and created a life. Finally, it was the woman he loved above all others. Evaleigh wrapped her arms around his neck and the sweat on her body glistened in the light. She was perfect and beautiful in every way to him as she closed her eyes and let out a cry of passion.
Shoulder….Nymeia, the Spinner, Goddess of Fate
The jewel rested in the palm of his hand as it glowed a vibrant red before turning prismatic. All the colors shining off of it and almost blinding him with its radiance. He wanted to use the jewel to conquer those who were weak, who didn’t deserve the freedom they were given. For the hearts of men and women are weak and only those who are above corruption should rule. But it dawned on him that these were not his words but those of the jewel. It provided such power, such passion, and such arrogance that it would blind weaker men. He squeezed the jewel with all his might till it shattered and turned into sand. Evaleigh placed a hand to his heart, Chiara placed a hand to his head, and Meyla placed a hand onto his.
Evaleigh spoke first, “Life before Death, my love.â€
Chiara spoke second, “Strength before Weakness, my light.â€
Meyla spoke last, “Journey before Destination, Pyralis.â€
The immortal words that bound him to something higher than himself. He opened his eyes and saw those who has hated but were not truly even, Thad, at the forefront, “I will protect even those I hate, so long as it is right.â€
Weather….Nophica, the Matron, Goddess of Abundance
The rain fell down on his head but it didn’t bother him. These were peaceful times at least and he was going to take full advantage of it. Evaleigh laughed at a joke he said about fertilizer and plants and of course not missing a beat she returned a jest of her own. If they could have a life after all these struggles and pains he hoped it would be like this. Gardening and having the joy of each other’s company and no stress about the threat of death. One thing he knew for certain was that there was no way he was going to eat any of these things after spreading all that poop on it.
Ponder…..Alythk, the Keeper, God of Time
Finally darkness and silence. When he opened his eyes he saw for the briefest moment his fate and it made him pale. The future….
Leighton shouted for the seventh time, “OYE! You alive back there? This is as far as I can get ye!â€
Pyralis flung some leathers around and was breathing heavily. It was all a dream...a dream probably from that stupid jewel. Even when it wasn’t entirely whole it was a pain in the ass. Pyralis shouted back as he began to gather his belongings, “Aye! I heard ye, Leighton! Give me a Gods damn second to gather my things, aye?â€
When he made sure he wasn’t shivering and had calmed down he made his way out of the caravan. He jumped down in his warmest clothing making sure to cover his silver hair and face. All around there was nothing but snow and a run down large Keep. The once metal gates left to rust and ruin. The walls seeming to fall apart of this Keep although it was possible to tell that at one point it had been stunning. As he started to walk closer and closer he had the sound of the harp being played. A sweet yet sad melody that tugged on the strings of his heart. This is the place where Ihrie had been...this is where his ‘mother’ was. He took in a large breath of cold air and headed towards the entrance.
((Life before death, strength before weakness, and journey before destination sauce:Â http://stormlightarchive.wikia.com/wiki/Immortal_Words))
FFXIV Characters:
Jorund Ironheart- Balmung
Naoh'a Mujuuk - Balmung
Arismont - Balmung
(Pyralis Cevas - deceased)
Jorund Ironheart- Balmung
Naoh'a Mujuuk - Balmung
Arismont - Balmung
(Pyralis Cevas - deceased)
