Spoiler
Disclosure: I'm not sure what parts of the memory are foggy or lost entirely, so this might be off-character. Also, I keep getting the name wrong but Franz is how I'm used to it so fuck your H's!

Franz laid his head down and tried to let go of the day. It had been one of those trying ones where all he'd wanted to do was keep to himself and have some peace and quiet but like all things in his life, it was never to be that easy. His breakfast had been interrupted by cannon fire and his lunch delayed by a brigand, and he'd never gotten to dinner seeing as how when he returned to their - his - place in the Goblet there was a swarm of Flames and Sworn still trying to figure out how such heavy ordinance had been allowed to collect in one place.

He'd immediately detoured away when he identified the authorities. Part habit, part common sense, Franz didn't see a point in risking detection when there was no need. He'd made off on the more off-beaten paths the Goblet had to offer, touring the high rises that offered a view of Thanalan. The sun was setting off on the horizon, slipping gradually behind the mountains and Franz paused a moment to take it in. It was not Garlemald, and in his heart he felt nothing could ever compare to the sweeping vistas his homeland had to offer, but it was something to behold nonetheless.

The Garlean recounted his steps as his mind drifted off to sleep, his last conscious thoughts being a silent prayer to nobody that he not be woken up by explosions. Once he had drifted, however, he was welcomed back by the loving arms and faces of those most important to him. He wouldn't remember them when the bubble of sleep burst, but for a brief moment in the realm of slumber, a man could dream.

Spoiler
A man has no need for anyone else.

The dark-skinned highlander was sitting by himself on a short hill. He didn't normally hunt so close to camp but when the prey was so good, how could he not? It was a hunter's pride to take down elusive targets. He looked to anyone passing by, if they even saw him, that is, to be simply resting. His bow was in his lap and his legs folded under him as if in deep meditation but Oscare was simply waiting and watching. Soon, under the flicker of torchlight emerging from Drybone, his quarry surfaced.

A man has only need for himself.

Quietly and quickly the hunter unbundled himself. He'd been doing it for so long he no longer made noise in the transition, his muscles moving without being told and his eyes focusing on making out movement in the shadows. The skies above had been threatening rain all evening but there had yet to be moisture. That would suffice.

Anyone else is a distraction.

The arrow knocked noiselessly in the dark and rapidly cooling desert. Ul'dah was made of stone that soaked up the sun during the long days and they clung to the rays of the sun like a mourning mother refusing to let go of a loved one. The sands outside of the Jewel held no such love for the star and were happy to release what was given not long after it had resigned for the night. Footfalls hurried away from civilization, his quarry oblivious to the predator stalking it.

I have no need for others.

The arrow met its mark and his prey crumpled. It only ever took one arrow, but Oscare closed the distance quickly to confirm with his eyes what his bow already knew. He looked down at glassy eyes staring up at the darkened skies as the first drops of rain began to fall. He didn't know what the woman had done but the gil had been sufficient. It wasn't his place to care what she'd done or who she'd wronged.

"That's the difference between you and me, sister." He pulled the arrow from her chest and wiped the tip off. "You had someone in your life to piss off. And look where that got you."

He sighed and stuck the arrow back in his quiver. The rain would cover his tracks, and this was a popular location. Just to be safe, Oscare began to loop around back towards another camp.

A man has no need for anyone else.

Things about Memories/Name
For the Franz vs Frhanz thing, they're different characters, so Warren would only have known "Franz". Long story short, bad things happened involving Unnamed Mercenary and Frhanz (the character known as Frhanz'ir Kirche), and after the fact, Unnamed Mercenary took the name, since he couldn't exactly get by in daily life saying he has no name. One of these days, he'll get around to remember his real name.

Put differently,
Franz = Merc = the Unnamed Mercenary: Grew up in Garlemald as a proud, pure-blooded Garlean. Backstory maybe one day. Joined the Garlean military where he eventually met the woman he married, Lydia. After the battle at Silvertear Lake, he couldn't fight any more. It prompted things and stuff happened, and that's how he ended up a broken man in Eorzea, with anything that could lead back gone.

Frhanz = Frhanz'ir Kirche: Was a Duskwight Elezen from a very eccentric Ishgardian family. Lots of snooty education on things. Fhranz sucked at combat, but made up for it by delving into lots of crafts. He was most skilled at alchemy and scholarly endeavors. He and Kage knew each other and were good friends. He also somewhat sacrificed himself to save Merc.

And for memories, that's pretty close. Pretty much anything not related to him personally is still there. (Education, politics, events, etc). If it was related to his life directly, it's gone. (Friends, family, childhood, etc). A few things have been coming back here and there, at a pace of "when RP says he gets it back". Currently, those memories include: military life, his wife, and the fact that he has a daughter, but he doesn't know any thing about her. On top of that, all the elezen Frhanz's memories are floating around too, which is where the Ishgardian comes from. (And pretty much anything else related to Eorzea)

SMN OSCARE YAYWestern La Noscea; ravaged lands, stripped of its natural beauty due to several
factors, most namely is the Calamity. A silence swept the completely dark skies, a looming sense of dread swept over the robed, dark toned man. His traditional summoner’s attire – a dark green robe, accompanied by hot pink gloves and thigh high leather boots and topped off by a dark red horn band on his forehead – bellowed and followed the wind blowing against him. He steps onto the beach, opening his book and pen and studying the land and ocean before him. 
“The Lost City of Nym..” Oscare mutters, frowning. He studies the plateaus and cliffs above him, tormented tides in front of him. Coeurls rushed to shelter around him the dark night, completely disregarding the man who flipped through pages in his book. A short and quick stroke of his pens drew a large dragon, cut into pieces by a machine. “Mmmm… The Imperials of the past, battling against the primal – the only one at the time – yeah? It’s ironic, an Imperial summoner like I to be here, right now, doing what must be done.” He mutters to himself.  He continues to scribble and sketch, the darkness consuming him ever so slowly. “But what must be done; must be done.” A small aether circle develops under the man. 
Oscare raises a hand, the aether circle slowly oozes aether out slowly, as the book starts glowing. His hand comes back down the book, as he starts to chant some more. The air around him started to twist and meld around the hand carrying the book, causing the pages to frantically turn. “By the winds that torment the lands with their sharp whispers, I cease thee to stop and listen to my commands! Your harsh winds shall not rip and tear the greens that struggle to grow and the relaxed waters that tide in and out! No more shall you bring the clouds of gray, but instead carry them away and repel the evil that looms in this land!” Oscare’s main hand bursts with wind elemented energy, causing the book to lift ever so slightly.
His offhand was only slightly higher than where the book was, snapping. “Oh lightnings above, you will not stomp on the poor woods and animals that dwell this ecosystem; you shall not punish the poor roots that try to find the sunshine they desperately seek for beyond the soil that nurtures them, Ramuh’s words did not admit this to you, and it my duty to rip this sin you are bringing from you!” His finger nails burst with lightning, cancelling out the wind energy from his main hand and keeping the book in place midair. 
Oscare grunts, wind and lightning crystals slowly gather around the man. He focuses on his left leg for the time being, ignoring the coursing aether all throughout his hands and arms alone. “Flames below in the seven hells, thou that has brought to us all that we hate, and taken away those that we have loved, you shall come back and this time, take away what we hate most. The serene beauty of this world can be both burned and boiled, but also melded and recycled; Ifrit bids you to serve, and now you shall serve me and bring back what rightfully is ours!” Oscare’s entire left leg burns up, consumed in flames. The aether circle starts growing, and crystals keep piling up on Oscare. 
Oscare didn’t seem to care that his entire LEFT LEG WAS ON FIRE. Instead, he continued with his chants and spell. “Ice all around our world, you provide us the chill on humid days, but provide the harshest climates on humanity in the north. Come to me and put out the flames in our hearts, and in the core of the world around us.” Oscare entire right leg freezes this time, but the fire melts it right off, pooling into a large circle of water that further expands the aether circle below him, which starts flowing out at an extremely rapid pace and escaping skywards. Ice and fire crystals joined the ever joining crystals surrounding Oscare, which started making a building like structure around him. 
Next, Oscare forces aether to collect within his upper body and chest. The earth around begins to shift and shake, quaking. Oscare loses his balance lightly, both out of pain and decrease of focus. Nonetheless, he recovers and continues the chanting, causing the earth more unease. "Ground we stand on, hear me out -- grant us your ever lasting platform, bless the dirt and gems in your shelter, keep the animals hugging you warm and close -- and of course to bring upon us a place to rest and lay our head every night..." The earth finally evens out, at peace. The darkness grew, practically making Oscare invisible if it weren't for all the elements flowing around and within him.
The book turns pages faster than the eyes can see, creating practically an optical illusion at this point. The massive amount of aether floods the area around Oscare, no longer just 'flowing'. Speaking of optical illusion, a vision of a snake slithers up through Oscare's body and strangle his neck, disappearing into water. "And at last, the water. Whirlpools and hurricanes -- tsunamis and waves -- destructive yet peaceful, you confound us all. You provide the basic need of life, you grow the very nature we see every day, and the world is nothing without you. You make up all things -- kiss the earth for our green green grass, fuse with the sky to make the horizon in which the moon and sun sets upon..."
Lightning, wind. Earth, water. Fire, ice. All six elements, and millions upon MILLIONS of clusters, shards, and crystals gather upon the man, who raised the lightning-element hand. "Now, harken upon to me, six elements! I am your avatar! Your master! And your hero! Arise and cast not calamity, but hope!"
"Tetra-Disaster!"
The world becomes completely dark for a brief moment. The aether was just... absent. Had he failed? 
Not in the slightest.
A plethora of colors appeared from the book, rocketing all over the place. Greens, blues, reds, violet and gray, orange and pink, more colors than you could possibly imagine. The darkness fades quickly, and the world magically gets their own colors, enough to confuse the eyes and blind the non-blind for a short moment. Once the summoner's eyes recovered, before him laid a one-in-a-lifetime landscape. The sun's rays were virtually visible, the winds carrying a relaxing soft whisper. Throughout the sunshine, small droplets of rain kissed the land and ocean, creating reflective ripples in the glistening water. The grass danced below him, enjoying the rain. It all lasted for maybe a minute or two, but felt like a decade. The summoner raised his offhand, the entire place stops. The sun shines throughout while the grass enjoyed a short reprive. A wonderful rainbow is painted across the sky, and the animals around slowly appeared. Again, Oscare's presence was apparently invisible to the rest of life.

Oscare turns around, walking away. "Life goes on, the crystals abound. The elements fall to my command, and I shall use their power to restore the world. The scars of the Calamity is great, and it is our responsibility to set it back into place. I am no white mage, I am no scholar..." Oscare closes the book and sticks it to his satchel. "-- I, Oscare Iono, am a summoner."

Not canon in this dimension
The crack of bone resonated in the dingy basement. It was a fight that began as one-sided and quickly progressed into just being a savage beating and the cheers of the onlookers had vanished as quickly as the poor elezen's teeth.

"You're sure about this, Castille?" Jenlyns didn't seem to believe the words coming out of the highlander's mouth.

"Yeah. I'm done." He had already wrapped the cord of his swordbelt around the scabbard of his weapon and presented it. "I'm not going to let any of this come back to the Order. Just go easy on me in the end."

The captain looked at Warren with confusion, but that was fine. It wouldn't take took long for a smart guy like Jenlyns to figure it out.

Warren stood, finally. It didn't hurt that the elezen looked like a certain smug Sultansworn. The highlander raised his hand and looked around the room; Rough and tumble types lined the walls and some looked angry. Some looked cowed. Some of the fans who'd come to watch the fights looked like they might be sick. The highlander checked his knuckles absently, wiping the blood off on his chest and smearing it with stained fingers. Most of it wasn't his anyway.

He finally caught eyes - he thought, anyway, it was impossible to tell with the glasses on - with the organizer of the whole shebang. If there was anything going on, if there were any underpinnings happening at this club, Warren knew the only way would be to get some attention. Quitting the Order in a blaze and taking his aggressions out on the first chump to step into the ring with him was one way. Beating him within an inch of his life was another. If the Syndicate was looking for bruisers like he suspected, he wanted to be a free agent for them.

"Who's next, Otto?"

Spoiler
The dark-haired and young Miqo'te stood across from the woman in her office with arms folded. The two of them locked eyes, glaring fiercely. She finally took a pad and quill to write down a few notes and handing it back over the desk. "Oh, and one more thing. This is the name and address of an alchemist I know. We don't need any mistakes running around."

"GET OUT!" the woman screamed from across the desk as she snatched the paper from the girl. Spahro Llorn quickly turned and made her escape. Coatleque sat back down with a huff and stared at the note for a minute before pocketing it and going back to her reports. forcefully crumbling it up and dropping it in her waste bin.


The palace was teeming with activity today. The court just outside the Heart of the Sworn in particular drew its own crowd as the new Captain would be inaugurated today. Family, friends, fellow and former members of the Order stood along the sides of the court. One woman in particular stood out near the steps. Adorned in a long and flowing dress that symbolized her station, her flaming red hair had long since turned to a darker auburn that now gave way to generous amounts of grey.

Her eyes did not leave the young man in uniform who now stood in the center of the court, tall and proud. His jet-black hair only accentuating the same wolfish yellow eyes she knew from a lifetime ago. Though he never new his father, he looked just like the man. The day she had delivered the news was the last she had seen of him herself. And though it was a great pain at the time, she felt a twinge of vindication now at this moment in knowing the man's son had become the complete opposite of him.

She had sacrificed everything for him, including her career, in order to seize Jameson's assets when the man had never returned. A long and arduous battle against the City State to secure her son's future. One that had left a few monetarists reeling in the end. But it was finally agreed that the boy was the soul and rightful heir to the estate and for a few years at least, she could raise him in peace.

A hush fell over the crowd as the now Grandmaster Straightblade addressed those present. It was the usual speech about justice, duty, and honor that was made to every Captain. One she had heard at least three times before now. And while some others in attendance grew bored and perhaps began to nod off, Coatleque only beamed with pride at the man being addressed.

"And so finally, it is with great honor that I name Johnathan Taeros Captain of her Majesty's Sultansworn. Go now, and may you lead with the dignity that befits your name."