Crawa

Chapter 11 Thirteen years later, Garaf and Crawa begin their journey into Eorzea. Garaf stood in the doorway looking into his room. He had to stoop just ever so slightly to go through the doorway these days, but this was the first time his room had ever seemed small; the first time it had ever seemed anything other than his. In truth, he wasn't as concerned about the room itself, or even the Temple at large, but he was going to miss the heavy workbench that was bolted to the floor and the wall. The core of it was small, still sized for a child, but it had been one of the first things he'd built himself. Over the years he'd added and expanded on it till it took up most of the far wall. Every gouge, burn mark, puncture, nick, and stain had been made by his own hand. It was now cleared of everything except his final project: a mechanical doll that he had assembled from hand-built pieces over the years. He'd never figured out exactly why he'd built it, but he had a vague memory of a clockwork man sitting in a dim room from his childhood. His own machination was still quite incomplete and missing a number of key components that he just couldn't construct at the Temple. He decided he wasn't going to miss the room - he was actually a bit excited to leave it behind - but he was going to miss the workbench, and his "Arc". He didn't miss the sound of light footfalls behind him, and turned to see Esslar holding out a note. "Quite fortuitous timing, Garaf. This note has just arrived for you this very moment. Should you like to read it before continuing to gather your things?" The Duskwight patted a small leather satchel on his belt. "Got everythin' I need right here." Garaf excepted the envelope and looked it over curiously. "Don't think I ever got a note before. Who do you reckon s'from?" "The author did not see fit to include return information I'm afraid. Crawa has received one as well, and I believe she was inclined to review its contents in the garden, should you wish to join her. I should see to your morning meals so we can at least send you off with full stomachs!" The lalafell patted his own tummy with gusto and then left a grinning Garaf alone in the hallway. He tore the side off the parchment envelope and then unfolded its contents. The paper itself was of some quality and the penmanship was smooth and clear, unlike his own blocky lettering. I understand you are soon to depart in the company of my betrothed. Understand that should harm befall her in my absence I will hold you personally accountable. ~D Garaf rolled his eyes and crumbled the letter. âYeah, like I gorram needed ta be told thatâ. He tossed the crumpled note across the room into an otherwise empty wastebasket beside the workbench and walked down the corridor. "Gal prolly couldn't find her way 'round tha' bend without someone ta' show 'er first." ************************************************* âWe'll go and look for them when we're grown ups who can go away without permission and fight bad guys without getting hurt!â It had been nearly thirteen years, and Crawa's parents had not yet returned. Now, with her elders' leave, she and Garaf were going to go find out why. She smiled to herself as she gathered her things together. No matter what they found at the end of their road, the very fact that they were finally on their way to unraveling the mystery gave her a surprising amount of hope. Even the weather was bright, the sun piercing through the trees and into the garden where she sat. It was a secluded area of the temple grounds, one of her favourite places. She placed her pack on the ground and sat down, breathing quietly. In the shrubbery, half-hidden, a worn and weathered statuette stood, the figure indiscernible from time and wear. Crawa often wondered if it had once depicted the Matron, or whether it was a remnant from before the temple had been built, an ancient forest god from a time out of mind. Whoever it was, Crawa set herself before it, scattering a few flowers at its base for luck. She asked of it guidance, for Garaf and she to find the true road, for her elders to be safe and hale when she returned. She barely noticed the rustle of footsteps in the grass. âSweet heart, there you are.â Crawa turned as her grandfather emerged from the other side of the garden. âI thought I might find you here. This letter is for you,â he held out an envelope, âIt came just now, and one for Garaf, too. In the meantime, I have a few more things to do. I will see you by the Gate when you are ready.â He hobbled off, leaving her with the letter. She flipped it over a few times before slitting it open with a fingernail and unfolding it to read. Crawa, I regret to not be present at your seeing-off; as it is, I grant you my most sincere wishes for the success of your mission. I keep you in my memory and look forward to our reunion upon your undoubtedly successful return. ~D Crawa smiled and folded the note back up, tucking it into a side-pocket of her bag. It said little, but it would be a reminder of home. Something to look forward to. Had it already been a year since she had last seen Dasma? She wondered that the time had gone by so quickly. He had come all the way to the Temple to marry her, as had been arranged so many years ago, but Crawa had refused to become his wife while her parents were still missing. All had agreed with her decision and thought it wise, but it was yet another reminder that all was not right with the world. She looked down at her wrists, at the bracelet given her by her mother on her sixth birthday, the last time she had seen her. It was still as shiny and new as it had been then. She wondered vaguely what this day would have been like had her parents returned, and stayed. Doubtless they would be seeing her off today, as she and Dasma inherited their places. She would be setting off on a different journey, returning to the Temple once a year, to do as they had done â righting injustice, restoring balance where she could, having children so that these small charities might continue. Her parents would have remained at the temple as her grandfather did, living the rest of their lives together in peace. It was a happy fantasy, but Crawa knew very well that her parents were not here, where they should be, and that she and Garaf were departing on a very different journey than the one that had been envisioned for her when she was born. She was not bidding them goodbye from the Gate, she was not married to Dasma, she was not â she admitted - ready. 'But when I find them', she thought, refusing to consider replacing âwhenâ with âifâ, 'things will be as they should be.' With that thought full in her mind, she made her way out of the garden for the last time. ************************************************* They were all assembled at the Gate by mid-morning. Guthlac and Esslar had changed into their formal attire at some point, though Garaf and Crawa wore clothing more suitable to traveling. Garaf thought that the two older men might burst at any moment into sunshine, songs and rainbows from all the pride and tears welling in their faces. Crawa mostly just had tears. "This day's been a long time in the coming," Guthlac began, "but part of me wishes it was still a little ways further off. I'm sure you'll do us proud." "I'll do my best, Grandpa." "Are you quite sure that you are adequately supplied?" Esslar eyed their meager luggage suspiciously. Garaf carried a number of small items on his belt, and his old self-made bow, but Crawa was the only one who'd thought to bring an actual pack, and it was not exactly overburdened with supplies. "S'not like we're goin' too far at first. We can pick up more in Gridania iffin' we really need ta. 'Cides, just about anythin' we need, I can make. 'N we got plenty a' coin between tha' two of us so no needs for worries." Guthlac put on his strong, stubborn-as-an-oak face. "I'm not worried a bit! And when you find your parents you tell them just how much we've missed them.â Crawa swallowed. âOf course.â They began to turn away but a cough from Esslar bid them stay. The lalafell donned a guilty expression for the blink of an eye and then spoke his confession. "Wait please, a moment. I confess I should have informed you of this previously, perhaps, but silence was requested of me. As you are no doubt aware, just under fourteen years ago Garaf arrived at our Temple. We still don't know how or why." The lalafell looked up at the Duskwight and Garaf shrugged in response. He himself did not recall anything prior to waking up at the Temple. "What you did not know, because your parents requested we not tell you, was that he carried a... token, of some sort. I am dreadfully sorry that neither Sirrah Guthlac nor myself saw the item ourselves, nor were we informed of its significance, but it was this... artifact that prompted their departure so quickly after its discovery. The last we were aware their destination was Ala Mhigo, but that was long, long ago. Where they may have gone from there, or even if they ever reached that destination, we simply don't know." Crawa frowned. âThat brings more questions than it does answers. Ala Mhigo had been destroyed for over a year when they left, in any case. What in the world would they find there?â As she spoke Garaf wondered, not for the first time, what circumstances had led him here over a decade previously - and what he might have been carrying that would have concerned Tuilind and Gilhend Nerian. By the time she had finished speaking he had concluded that the answers wouldn't be found standing in the Temple Gate. "Well, least it gives us a place ta start lookin'. We'd better be hittin' tha' road. Ya'll take care of yourselves 'n we'll let ya know iffin' we find somethin'." Crawa hugged Esslar and Guthlac tightly, lifting the former briefly off his feet. âI'll be back, and I'll bring them with me,â she said as she embraced her grandfather. âThe Matron guard you, sweet heart,â he replied. âAnd you, both of you... take care of yourselves!â Crawa called as they crossed the threshold. The Gate swung shut behind them, and the Twelveswood beckoned them forward. It was a start.

Chapter 10 Crawa's seventh birthday is met with little celebration. Crawa streaked out of bed and flew to the door as soon as the first rays of sunlight found their way through her curtains. She was seven today, a full year older, full of a year that had seemed to go by even more quickly than she could have imagined. She flung herself into the corridor in her pajamas, running the short distance down the hall to Garaf's room. âGARAAAAF! Wake up!â She had no answer other than a muffled snore, and she huffed in impatience. âGRAMPA!â she yelled as a recourse, knowing that at least her grandfather would hearken to her call. Her instincts were correct, for it was not long before the door slid open and old Guthlac emerged, bleary-eyed but dressed. âGood... morning, sweet heart.â he creaked, hobbling down the hall towards her. âDid mama and papa get here yet? Can I see them??â The old man shook his head. âPatience, sweet heart. They did not arrive last night, but it is not unusual for them to take the extra night to travel. They will be here today, never fear.â Crawa pouted, but acquiesced. She dressed, ate, and fidgeted as the day went on, reluctantly studying at Esslar's behest, and scuttling to the window whenever the adults' backs were turned. The day seemed to last an eternity. * âWhy aren't they here yet?!â The newly seven year old Crawa demanded, pounding a small fist on the table. âThey should be here! It's my birthday!â The sun had gone down, and there had been no sight nor sign of Gilhend and Tuilinn Nerian. Garaf and Crawa sat at the table, picking at the remains of their dinners while their elders talked quietly in the corner. âThis isn't fair,â she frowned, absentmindedly knocking her spoon against her plate. Garaf didn't answer, the only other voices being those of her grandfather and the lalafell. âIt is highly unusual for them to not send word of their delay. I shall begin to worry before much longer,â Esslar pronounced, sipping his tea with a considerable air of agitation. âPeace,â Guthlac answered through his beard. âThey will come.â Crawa listened to their mumbling voices until they began to blur together into a buzz, not even realizing that she was resting her head on the table. The next thing she noticed was sunlight streaming through her window; she had been put to bed, and it was day, and she was seven â and her parents hadn't come. The day went by as the previous one had, and the next ones quickly followed after. Crawa passed the time in a mood too foul and self-absorbed to notice the adults' increasing worry. The silence around the dinner table after a week had passed was heavy and uncomfortable; even Garaf's routine complaints about his vegetables were quelled. The weather outside seemed to echo the mood in the room, rain pounding on the roof between shuddering thunderclaps. As Crawa picked over a left-over piece of birthday cake â Esslar had made extra to comfort her â she suddenly threw down her fork and burst into tears. Seeming to sense the cause of her fit, her grandfather left his seat and came to her. âThere, sweet heart. They're coming, don't worry. They'll be here-â âYou're lying!â Crawa wailed, interrupting him. âThey're NEVER coming! Never!â Guthlac said nothing, but gathered her in his arms as she wailed. It startled everyone when Garaf slammed his fist down on the table with a frustrated "GORRAMIT!" and bolted from the room. * Rain was coming down in sheets, pelting him with a non-stop torrent as Garaf splashed through the forest. Occasionally lightning would explode in the sky, casting the trees in stark brilliance before returning to the dark of a stormy night. The Duskwight had no thought to where he was headed; only a grim determination to see Crawa's parents returned to her. In his state of mind, rational thought of how to accomplish that goal never occurred to him. He had no plan but the will to see it done. He splashed through a large puddle, tripped over a root, and found his momentum suddenly redirected towards the ground. He picked himself out of the mud and wiped the leaves and clay from his face. 'What am I doing?' he thought, 'I've never even met them. How would I know them? Where would I even look?' The recent memory of Crawa crying by her birthday cake swept through his mind. 'Doesn't matter. I'll do it anyway.' Before he resumed his dash through the woods, however, he recognized a sound under the splatter of the rain: stout footsteps and the clink of metal. He knew the woods well enough to know there weren't any roads nearby; no reason for anyone else to be wandering through the trees. He crept closer to the sound and squinted through the rain as he peeked from behind a tree trunk. A flash of lightning showed a squat creature covered in boiled leather and ramshackle pieces of armor shuffling along the forest floor. As it moved, the mis-matched pieces of armor clanked together, making a tinkling sound that stood out amidst the falling rain. Garaf could barely make it out when the darkness returned, but he recognized it as a goblin. Within his child's mind a scenario came to him, and in that moment he laid all the confusion and pain he'd witnessed in the last year on the goblin. Suddenly it was the beastman's fault that Crawa's parents were missing, that he couldn't remember his own parents or any life he'd had before, that he was never quite sure of where he fit into things. He jumped out from behind the tree and shouted as he charged towards the creature. "BRING THEM BACK!" The goblin, not expecting a sopping wet, screaming child to charge it suddenly, was caught unawares and Garaf tackled it to the ground, pummeling it with punches. "I know you took them! Where are they?!" A year of labor had put steel in the boy's muscles, and at first the goblin struggled and squealed to ward off the blows. But he had twice the mass of Garaf, and the benefit of surprise soon wore off. The goblin pulled a knife and slashed out, cutting open the boy's tunic and knocking him down. Garaf, heedless of the gash stretching from his left arm to his sternum, tried getting to his feet but found a grubby boot on his stomach. The boy bore a grim expression as he looked up to see a slab of iron, ground to a rough edge, brandished above him. The goblin drew back to strike again when a shout broke through the tumult of the storm. "FIRE!"... and just then a small ball of flame erupted on the goblin's shoulder. The beastman squealed and hopped about, slapping its shoulder and then glowered back at the boy. Garaf was still laying in the mud, watching the goblin with sharp, angry eyes. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the dark silhouette of another among the trees. The goblin hopped and ran to shuffle off in the other direction. Garaf looked up and saw Crawa standing over him. Her clothes were covered in mud and rain and torn from running through the woods. âGaraf! What were you doing?!â The girl's breath came in gasps. âYou're bleeding! We have to go back. The goblin's gonna find us again, quick now!â She pulled at Garaf's arm, looking around frantically. "I didn't find them... yet." Garaf looked away again, seeming not to have heard her. He felt shame, not for having run off into the night, but for having failed to find her parents. He heard the leaves squish as she knelt down next to him, but he certainly didn't expect it when she slapped him. "Stupid! Everybody's always leaving me and going away. I won't forgive you if you leave too!" "I ain't gonna sit 'round 'n watch you gettin' lonely! Iffin' I find your folks then everything'll be good 'n happy." Crawa quieted at that, but after a few moments put her hands on her hips in a stance of determination. âIf you go out running after them now, you'll get eaten by goblins, or worse! We're just kids. Besides, mama and papa always come back. Grampa said so.â The words were certain, but her voice was hesitant. âAnd... and if they don't, we'll go and look for them when we're grown ups who can go away without permission and fight bad guys without getting hurt!â She glared pointedly at the gash that sliced through Garaf's tunic. Garaf nodded and worked his way back to his feet, wincing as his body reminded him he was leaking. The cut wasn't deep, but it stung. "Ok. We'll go tagether." Satisfied, Crawa got up on her own feet, and the two of them began to work their way back to the Temple. âHey, look now,â the girl said, pointing at the sky. âIsn't it pretty?â The rain had stopped and the clouds were swiftly parting. The storm had finally cleared, revealing a sky full of stars.

Chapter 5 Crawa sat in the library, studiously attempting to examine a volume concerning the history of Ul'dah. Esslar had promised her another quiz, and if she passed this one she could expect a cake with her dinner. So it was something of a nuisance when Garaf burst into the room, shouting excitedly. "'Ey! You'll never guess what I found! S'grand I tell ya!" Crawa didn't even lift her head to acknowledge him. "Go away! I'm studying!" "Aww, ya can study later. Come 'n look at this!" Crawa huffed and looked up from her book. "What is it?" "I told ya! S'grand!" "...What's a 'grand'?" "S'somethin' really... ya know... grand! Ya comin' or not?" The young duskwight was practically hopping from one foot to another in excitement. She scowled. "You're trying to get me in trouble again, aren't you?" "Pffft, why'd I bother doin' that? 'Cides, tha' Old 'un 'n tha' Short 'un like ya too much fer ya ta get in too much trouble. Now come ON!" He bounced over to the door. The wildwood sighed, rolling her eyes at Garaf's names for her grampa and Esslar. Putting her pen in the book to mark her spot, she rose to follow the boy. As she got close to him, she could smell the odors of sweat and smoke hanging about his person, and she held her nose shut. "You stink." Whether Garaf had heard her remark or not wasn't clear, as he was already halfway down the stairs. She followed him out of the house and across the courtyard that was mostly occupied by Esslar's garden, and to the large mortar and wood building at the back of the compound. Esslar called it the warehouse, and Crawa had hardly ever gone inside - she'd barely ever had reason to. She caught up with a grinning Garaf at the large double doors that led inside, and peeked through them curiously. All she could see with a cursory glance was a large, shady, open interior filled with the detritus needed about the Temple that didn't have a regular purpose. She looked back to Garaf. "Well? What is it?" Garaf wiggled his eyebrows and excitedly proclaimed, "Treasure!" Then he was off again, weaving through piles of stores and stocks and tools, and Crawa had little choice but to follow. When she found him again, he was leaning against a panel that was sticking up out of the floor. As she got closer, she realized it was really a trapdoor that led to a smaller room beneath them. "Go on! Take a look! S'grand!" he repeated. With thoughts of evil spirits springing out of the dim slowing her steps, Crawa began to cautiously creep down the steep stairs. Garaf swiftly followed with a lantern in hand, and held it up high once they were both on the ground. As the two looked on, the small flame flickered its light over a hidden storage room filled with oddities from unknown places and times. A large, curved blade with a falcon emblazoned on the handle was mounted on the wall over a collection of heavy armor that looked like it would take a mountain to move. An assortment of tea cups, no two the same, rested on a table next to a flintlock with delicate silver engravings. An elegant fishing pole gathered dust beside a beautiful flute, and a few paces away a rough stone statuette of a wolf bared its teeth at them. A dozen other items were revealed in the wavering light, but the thing that Garaf stood next to, admiring above all the others, was a small clockwork doll made of brass and bronze. It sat in a wooden chair against the wall, its copper "eyes" seeming to glow as they caught the light and threw it back at them. "S'better 'n grand." Garaf repeated almost reverently. A steady voice pulled their eyes back up to the top of the stairs. "Children? Come up from there." Esslar stood at the top, doing his best glower through his spectacles as the two of them reluctantly left their discovery and climbed back up to the warehouse. As soon as they were clear, the lalafell closed the trapdoor with a loud thud, sending dust flying everywhere. "You two shouldn't go down there." "What is it, Mister Esslar? Where did all those pretty things come from?" "From your honored ancestors, Missus Crawa. The items below are the treasured artifacts of your own heritage." And then, leveling a stern frown at Garaf, the lalafell stated: "They are not to be disturbed." As he walked off, Crawa glared over at Garaf. "You were trying to get me in trouble again, stupid." The boy stuck his tongue out in reply. "Was worth it though, huh?" "... I have to study."

Gridania is gorgeous. /WANT

((So, in our anticipation for what will inevitably be fun Final Fantasy RPz, Garaf and I have decided to write a series of stories about Garaf and Crawa as ~6-year-old children, as sort of a fun prologue to their adult adventures that will happen in-game. The time frame for these stories is directly after the events detailed in A Birthday Gone Bad. We'll be updating with a new episode every weekend until launch.)) Chapter 1 The last few days had not been Garaf's favorites. He had spent them trying to avoid his hosts, particularly the girl Crawa. He didn't mind them personally, but Crawa was always shouting at him about this or that. "Don't make a mess!" she would say, or "Why are you dirty?!" or "Don't eat with your fingers!" or "Get off the roof!" All the shouting hurt his ears. But she was still preferable to the elderly man and the short servant-person. They kept giving him looks like they would put him to work any day now. So Garaf did the only thing he was prepared to do: He spent many hours on the roof and attempted to find a way to escape from the place that in his mind was quickly becoming an impregnable compound of doom. The Compound consisted of three main buildings: a temple, a house, and a small warehouse, as well as a number of small buildings spread about the garden between the three larger buildings. Encasing the entire area was a circular hedge nearly as tall as the buildings themselves which somehow kept the forest beyond at bay. A large oak gate pierced through the hedge in front of the Temple and seemed to be barred much of the time, doubtless to keep the fierce beasts of the woods from breaking in and feasting on everyone inside the compound, or so Garaf figured. Naturally, he knew escape would be his only option. The one called Esslar kept saying that there weren't any Duskwight Caves for many, many malms, but Garaf couldn't trust him. He was just the right size to be a goblin in disguise. In his child-mind, Garaf knew that there would be a Cave just a half hours stroll from the Hedge where he would be welcomed, handed a big piece of cooked Aldgoat meat, and never asked to do any meaningful work he didn't intend to do. And one afternoon, while sitting on the shady side of the warehouse's roof, he spotted his chance. A scuffling sound lead him to a small rabbit's hole burrowed along the bottom of the hedge. He never would have found it without his Duskwight hearing, and as he bent down to push his way through he heard a shout that made him wince. "Hey! What are you doing?" He pulled his head out of the brush and found the girl had come around the corner with a covered bundle in her hands. "M'makin' my escape! There's a great big world out there 'n you can't keep me cooped up here!" "It's dangerous out there, Stupid." "I can take care of myself!" And with that Garaf threw his body into the hole with all the might he could muster. It turned out that he was a little wider in places than the rabbit who had been kind enough to form the tunnel, so he wound up doing some burrowing of his own as he went along. Just as he was beginning to think that the Hedge wouldn't ever end, his head pushed free into open air amid a burst of twigs and leaves. He squirmed the rest of the way and stood up, taking a big breath of 'freedom' before half-heartedly dusting the twigs and dirt from his clothing. Just as he was finishing, he saw a blonde head of hair with a very disgruntled expression pop out from the hole by his foot. "You shouldn't leave the Hedge! It's dangerous. Papa says we're not allowed." "So you stay here 'n I'll go." If Garaf had been more empathic he might have realized that his words stung the young girl but instead he wasn't paying attention and just shrugged as he started to walk off in a random direction. He hadn't gone far when Crawa caught up with him, and he couldn't help but notice that she'd somehow kept her cotton dress clean as she went through the Hedge. "I'm supposed to look after you. Mama says! Now can we go back?" Garaf kept walking. "She's not my Mama, sa why should I care?" That earned him a bop on the back of the head and a shout of "errrr... STUPID!" Garaf grimaced and rubbed the back of his head before deciding to lose the girl in the brush. So he took off at a run, jumping and leaping through the brush and trying to outrun the girl who kept shouting at him to stop. He barreled through the tangled growth of tree and bush as best as his wiry frame could manage but he could still hear the girl keeping up and shouting names at him. And when he finally skid to a halt on the precipice of a slope that angled down into to a pit of mud, he got a jolt as the girl collided into his back at full speed. The two went over the edge in a tumble of limbs and skirts and shouts to end up in a pit of thick mud that clung to them like paint. Garaf stood up and saw the both of them covered in debris and mud and began to laugh. Crawa rose from the mud with tears in her eyes and swiftly put an end to his laughter with a hand-shaped imprint in the mud on the boy's cheek. "Stupid! Now we're lost and I'm all dirty and my dress is ruined! All because you had to be stupid! Go ahead and go - I'm never speaking to you again!" The Duskwight was dumbstruck as he watched the girl climb her way out of the pit with heaves and sobs. It was only then that he began to understand how upset she had been and he plopped down on a rock at the edge of the mud to try and figure out what he should do. His fantasies about goblins and spits of aldgoat and fortresses of doom didn't seem so clear anymore. The girl disappeared over the edge of the pit before he thought of anything to say and he felt the heavy weight of guilt settle on his shoulders. A few moments later, though, she re-appeared at the edge of the pit; her fists clenched and tears running streaks through the mud on her face. "â¦Which is the way back, again?" Garaf got to his feet. âI'll show ya.â He figured it was the least he could do. He scrambled up the slope like a bullfrog, and led Crawa along the trail of broken branches and trampled grass back to the Hedge. She sulked the entire way back, not saying a word the whole time. Garaf found that strangely uncomfortable. When they got back to the Hedge he pushed his way back through, trying to clear a more comfortable path for the girl, and came out the other side looking like some sort of tree-mud monster. When Crawa came after him a few moments later, she just walked off sullenly, forgoing even a âgoodbyeâ or a jab about his dirtiness. Garaf looked about and for the first time noticed the bundle that had been in Crawa's hands earlier. She had set it on the ground next to the warehouse wall, probably before she had followed him through the Hedge. Garaf pulled the wrapping off and started to use the cloth to clean his face. Once the mud from his skin was more or less transferred to the towel, he noticed what it had been wrapping: a plate with a still-warm leg of aldgoat meat. "Well... maybe this place isn't sooo bad...â

Man, my plans for a zombie apocalypse pretty much boil down to "hide behind a burlier, tougher friend, and hope for the best". I'm screwed, aren't I?

((A friend of mine and I have a habit of pairing our characters somehow in every setting we play them in. In FFXIV, they met as children, so we have been writing a good number of stories about their early lives together, taking place fourteen or so years before the "present day" of the game. This story will be followed by the rollicking Adventures of Young Garaf and Crawa, which will likely be posted here soon and updated with a new episode every week until launch, when our characters are all growed up. )) âIsn't it morning yet?" Crawa lay in her bed, staring anxiously at the stubbornly dark window above. Grandpa had told her that she couldn't get up until sunrise, but that certainly hadn't stopped her from staying awake nearly all night regardless. âHurry up...,â she grumbled at the window. By the time a tiny sliver of amber light finally shuddered through the thin curtains, she was nearly out of her mind with anticipation. âThere!â She bounced out of bed, throwing off her sheets and careening across the room with her arms stretched out like a bird and all the energy of a six-year-old at the beginning of a special day. She stopped only to admire the outfit that her grandfather had laid out for her the night before, brand new for this occasion. Esslar had brought it all the way from the city just for her. It was white, but had green and gold vines twisting all around it, with a small brown bird on the left shoulder. She picked it up and held it up to her chest, spinning around in the center of the room until she was dizzy. âGranpa!â she yelled, her shrill voice piercing the thin walls of the temple lodge. With no response, she impatiently put the clothes down on her mattress, slid open her door, and stuck her head out into the hallway. âGranpaAAAAAAAA!! WAKE UP!â A minute or two elapsed before the door just down from hers creaked open and a figure sleepily emerged. He looked like the friendliest gnarled old tree anyone could ever find; with a stiff grey beard and ears that had begun to droop with age. He clutched his bedrobes about himself and rubbed the left side of his face lethargically. âGranpa! Hurry up!â The old man looked down at her, bleary-eyed. âOh, dear, it's only-â âIT'S MORNING!â The old man leaned back at the auditory assault. He began shuffling across the hallway towards her. â... yes, yes it is. You're quite right. Here, let me in.â Crawa moved away from the door and spun into the middle of the room; making way as he hobbled through. She wasn't about to let her grandpa waste any time this morning â it was her birthday, after all, and that meant a day that she wanted to begin as soon as possible. It meant attention, sweets, and perhaps most importantly of all, her parents finally returning from their year-long wandering. âCrawa, be still a moment.â âYou aren't the boss of me! It's my birthday!!â The old man raised an eyebrow that could have been made from grey moss and sat down on the edge of the bed. Crawa ran to him, engulfing his knees in an enthusiastic hug. âYes, it's your birthday, and you're a whole six years old today. But you know what else happens today, right?â Crawa grinned toothily up at him. âI'm going to be SPECIAL!â Her grandfather chuckled hoarsely and ruffled her hair. âYou're special every day, sweet heart, but today you're inheriting your heritage; that makes you very special.â âLike mama?â âOne day, if you work very, very hard.â Crawa nodded enthusiastically. âI wanna fight monsters too!â She spun away, punching at the invisible monsters of her fantasies. âBegone, foul demon! BOOM!!â Her grandfather gently pulled her back to him. âYour mama and papa have a really important duty, Crawa, and it's a lot more complicated than 'fighting monsters'. It is about restoring balance to the world, sweet heart, and that is rarely easy. Nonetheless, our family has seen to this duty throughout Eorzea for... well... longer than anyone knows, dear.â The girl pouted as only those her age could. âBut I wanna get the bad guys!â âThings are very rarely divided into clear good and bad, love. You're old enough to learn that soon. Our family has kept this temple for generations, and one day it will be all yours to look after, and you will need to be as smart and as kind as you can possibly be.â Crawa looked sobered for a brief moment, then burst into activity again. âCan I put my pretty dress on now, Grandpa?!â âOh, fine. Come on, let's get you out of that nightie.â In a few minutes the girl stood before her mirror, twirling and posing in ecstasy. The dress fit her perfectly, and in her mind the bird embroidered on the shoulder looked like it was flying as she spun about. âI'm a princess, Granpa!â âYou are to me, sweetheart â now let me brush your hair out, come here.â She chattered gaily while he combed and plaited her pale mass of hair. Afterwards they went back out into the hallway, where she had little choice but to wait as her Grandpa dressed in his own formal wear, though she made sure he was aware of her urgency through the wooden door. As soon as he emerged again she spouted âAre mama and papa here yet?â âThey arrived last night, love. They would have seen you then but didn't want to wake you. They'll be waiting downstairs in the Hall for you.â âI wanna see them now!â âPatience, my girl.â Crawa huffed and crossed her arms impatiently anyway. âAlright, let's go. Don't mess yourself now-!â the old man cried after her, but she was gone like the wind, racing down the hall to the stairs. Her mother and father waited for her beyond the walkway at the bottom, and all of her cousins, and everyone in the temple, they would all be there... for her. Because she was going to be important, like mama and papa, one day. She hurtled down the stairway, losing no momentum as she flew across the walkway and heaved open the sliding door that led to the Hall. Her parents were both there, but not in the honored places they were supposed to be. Her parents stood, along with many of the others there, in their formal wear huddled around something by the front entrance. âMAMA!â Crawa shrieked, skittering across the smooth, polished floor and launching herself at her mother's knees. Her mother hugged her tightly, but after an all-too-brief moment she was gently pushed away. âCrawa, please wait a moment. Something's happened.â The girl backed up in confusion, looking up at her parents â but only her father was looking at her, the birthday girl. They, and everyone else, were fussing over a small figure who lay still on the floor. She looked at it for a moment, but only saw a dirty boy, covered in soil and some red sticky stuff, sleeping in the middle of her ceremony. âMama? Papa? Esslar?â She called for her parents and for the temple attendants, but they were too busy lifting the boy and carrying him up the stairs, and she followed them helplessly. Nobody was paying attention to her. It was all wrong! She looked up at all the adults in front of her, and started to cry loudly, a wail of six-year-old rage and unfairness boiling over. She stomped her feet on the stairs; she yelled and kicked at the wall. It was only a moment later that her grandfather appeared at the top of the stairs, hobbling past the others and coming down to where she stood. âCrawa,...â he said sternly, kneeling down in front of her and wiping the tears off her face. âYou're a big girl now â and big girls don't throw tantrums when things go wrong, okay?â âIt's MY birthday! He's nobody! Mama and papa are supposed to-â âSweet heart, sometimes we have to give things up for the greater good. That's what being like mama and papa is all about. You want to be like them, don't you?â She nodded tearfully. âAlright then, love. Let's go see your parents, eh?â He half-carried, half-led her up the rest of the stairs and into her room. Her parents were there, and in her bed â in HER bed!! - was the dirty little boy. He was just about the same size as her, but he was getting her bed dirty as well. Crawa wrinkled her nose and pouted, but at a glance from her grandfather held back her cries of dismay. âThey have to look after him, love. He's been hurt very badly.â She stared at the boy, with his blue skin and dark hair, propped up on her pillows, then looked up at her Grandpa. âBut he's not special like me! And he's a... a duskie!â âThe Duskwight are of our people just like you and me. Your mama and papa help everyone, not only those with long ears and pale skin.â Crawa screwed up her mouth and inquired, âAm I still gonna get my birthday?â âIt will be your birthday whatever happens, sweet heart. We might have to wait on the pomp and circumstance for a bit, though.â The girl was about to retort, but her mother beckoned her over to the side of the bed. She ran to her, hugging her legs. âMama! Do I get my birthday now?â Her mother looked down at her, smiling. âSoon, sunshine. Soon. Right now I need you to help Grandpa take care of this boy. Can you do that for me, Crawa?â She looked at her mother, then back at the sleeping boy. âOkay...â she finally muttered reluctantly, scuffing her toes along the floor. "Esslar?" Her father called in the Lalafell that served as the attendant of the Temple grounds. "Would you excuse our guests, with our apologies? I'm afraid we won't be able to continue the ceremony today. We'll be departing in the morning as well. Can you see to the preparations? But first, fetch the bandages." The bearded Lalafell bowed gracefully and adjusted his spectacles as he stood back up. "Right away, sirrah." "Mama? What does Papa mean? You're staying, right?" Crawa's mother knelt down and gave her a warm hug and a tender kiss on her forehead. "Just for tonight dear, and then we'll have to leave again. Oh, we want to stay, dear, and we would if we could." Her parents exchanged one of those looks that adults sometimes do. "Just know that we love you and we wouldn't go if it wasn't very important.â The little girl simply couldn't keep the tears from streaming down her face. âAre you coming back soon?â Her father looked up at her grandfather grimly for a moment, then turned back smiling to his daughter. âI promise, Sunshine. We need to see to this boy for now, but as soon as we're able we'll join you and celebrate your birthday. Okay?â Crawa nodded, not because she understood but simply because she didn't know how else to respond. Her Grandpa took her by the hand, leading her out of her room and into the library across the hallway to wait for her parents. It was a much of a day before Crawa's parents returned, and to anyone Crawa's age it seemed a lifetime. Lunch and dinner had been consumed quietly and simply, with only the company of her grandfather and Esslar. When the door to the library finally did open, Crawa lept to her feet while Esslar forced himself out of a light snooze to attend them. âMama! Papa! You're back! Can we have my birthday now? Did you get me a present?â Esslar shuffled up behind her as she prattled. âMissus Crawa, I believe there was something you wished to deliver to your parents. This would seem to be an appropriate time to do so.â The child's eyes lit up, and she dashed across the hallway to her room before the lalafell had even finished speaking. âOh! Okay!â Sparing only a few seconds to shoot a withering glare at the dirty boy who occupied her bed, she rummaged under her wardrobe until she pulled out a series of crude drawings. To anyone else they would have appeared as nothing more than the random, unpracticed scrawlings of a child with bits of chalk and charcoal and parchment, but to Crawa they were the perfect expressions of her precious world. Grinning in satisfaction, she tottered back across the hall and shoved the gift of papers under her mother's nose. âSee, mama! I drew them for you and papa! See â there's you, and papa, and me, and that's Granpa and Esslar!â As Crawa's mother accepted the papers she held them low so that Crawa could better point out the finer details of each piece. The Lalafell drew nearer and blinked at an uneven mass of lines and circles sporting a greyish smattering across its top and something vaguely resembling spectacles as it gallivanted across the paper. âHow very... splendid.â âCrawa, these are lovely,â her mother laughed, sitting down at the table. âWe will keep them with us all year when we're away, won't we?â Her father nodded in assent. âAnd we'll be looking forward to seeing more of what you've done when we come for your birthday next year!â The child pouted up at them as she clambered into her own chair. âWhy can't you stay forever?â âLove, we would always prefer to stay with you. But we couldn't do our duty if we did, you see?â âI don't care.â Crawa uttered the phrase with all the disdain and petulance a six-year-old could muster. âCrawa, you're a big girl now, and you're going to learn all sorts of wonderful things with your Grandpa and Esslar this year. The time will go by like that!â Her mother snapped her fingers with a smile. âNow, I do believe we have a birthday to celebrate, don't we?â Crawa's face lit up, and she jumped from her chair. âCan I have my present now?â Her mother laughed. âLater, love. Right now, I think someone has made you a cake!â Esslar had disappeared from the room, returning with a large, delicious-looking round cake, which he deposited squarely in front of the birthday girl. The icing was green on the sides and blue on top, with various bird-shapes formed by nuts and berries and neatly placed bits of mint twig. Crawa looked on it in awe. âWhat do we say, sweet heart?â Her mother nudged her gently with her elbow. âTHANK YOU!â The lalafell Sage cut her a slice (rather smaller than she had hoped), and distributed the rest of the cake around the table. The young girl giggled as she ate the first bite and found it tasted of strawberries. Despite admonitions not to gobble, Crawa still found herself with an empty plate well before anyone else. She busied herself with asking her parents about their year abroad: How many bad guys had they gotten? How many people had they saved? Where had they gone? Did they see any monsters? Each of them answered her gently, but always unsatisfactorily. They seemed more inclined to press upon her that their duty was not behaving like heroes in some legendary tale told to children as they're tucked into bed. They pointed out that it was their ancient heritage to travel the land and keep the spirits and the elements in balance wherever they could. For her part, Crawa couldn't see the difference. Far too soon, and despite the birthday girl's protestations to the contrary, it was time for sleep. Crawa yawned, slumping down in her chair despite her insistence that she wasn't the least bit tired. She thought vaguely of being tucked into bed by her parents and then remembered how filthy her bed would be with that boy sleeping in it. As if reading her thoughts, her grandfather reached down as if to pick her up and said, âYou can sleep in my room tonight, sweet heart.â "One moment, Guthlac," Crawa's father put a hand on the old man's arm to pause him, "we still have one thing left." Kneeling down beside her chair, her father pulled a small blue box from inside his jacket. "I know this wasn't quite the birthday you'd envisioned, Crawa, but I want you to know that it was very important to us to be here for you. We had hoped to stay for awhile longer, but something has come up and we'll have to leave in the morning. Before we go though, we'd like you to have this..." Strong hands gently put the box in Crawa's lap and she studied it with a sense of awe. Whether from sorrow that the day was drawing to a close, or the knowledge that her parents would soon be gone again, or simple exhaustion, her mirth of earlier hours had been drained from her; but she still had her anticipation. She put her hands on the top of the box and slowly lifted the lid as if it were a tender, living thing. Inside, sitting on a bed of cherry-colored satin, sat a silver bangle. Worked into the metal were weaving vines of emerald enamel that wound their way to a centerpiece featuring an earth-colored spring leaf, the emblem of Nophica the Matron, encompassed in a ring of trees. She recognized it instantly, of course. Her mother had always worn an identical bangle around her left wrist and her grandfather had a brooch with the same emblem. It was supposed to represent the family's heritage, but Crawa understood it best as a priceless heirloom. Her mother reached into her lap and, taking the bracelet from its box, slid it over Crawa's hand and up her arm. At her size it could go all the way up to her shoulder without fitting snugly, but Crawa held the bangle to her forearm and hugged it to her chest. Her father scooped her up out of the chair and carried her into her grandfather's room. She would always remember the feeling of being carried by her father, and her mother's smile, but she would never recall being tucked in. She was asleep before she made it to the bed. * In the days following Crawa's birthday, life began to return to normal around the Temple.  She resumed her chores and began taking lessons from her grandfather in the ways of the elements.  At the same time, she begrudgingly took care of the injured boy as a personal responsibility.  Esslar had soon made up a new room for the stranger, and it became her duty to check on him regularly and to change the bandages around his head, chest, and left arm every day. As time went on, she began to wonder where the boy had come from in the first place, and why he was in this condition.  Esslar had told her how he had found the boy on the ground just inside the gate in front of the Temple.  Where he had come from, and why he was covered in cuts and bruises, was a mystery.  Crawa only knew that she didn't like this boy, whoever he was, but she would take care of him anyway because her mother had asked her to. After twelve days of this routine, she went to the boy's room one morning and found the bed empty.  Bandages were strewn about the floor in a haphazard manner and the window curtains were left flapping in the light morning breeze.  'Where IS he?!' she thought, annoyed. "And who's going to clean up this mess??" -------------------------------------------- The first thing he'd noticed on waking was the dull ache that perforated his body and made his head feel like stuffing.  The second thing was that he was somewhere unfamiliar:  In the dim light from the window he could see a room made of wood and strangely carved furnishings.  He lay there for a few moments, listening to all the sounds around him.  He thought he could hear people sleeping nearby, but nothing that sounded imminently threatening. He noticed the bandages when he sat up, but didn't waste any time in tearing them off and tossing them on the floor.  He felt well enough, despite the aching, so he didn't see any need for such things. Standing up on the bed, he looked out the window and saw a couple of raised wooden buildings surrounded by a tall hedge.  Wherever he was, it didn't seem like a place that Duskwight would live. The horizon was starting to turn orange, and he realized that soon whoever was sleeping would be waking.  He forced the window open as wide as he could and slipped through it, catching himself on an awning before dropping the rest of the way to the ground below.  His legs stung and began to tingle painfully when he hit the ground, but he bent down and scurried into the space between the building and the earth. It was dark underneath, and cool, like the caves in his earliest memories, and he had no trouble finding a spot far from the edge of the building where he could sit against a post undisturbed.  It wasn't long after that he began to hear feet above him, small and light like those of a child or one of those little people.  He didn't think he'd ever met the little people yet, but he'd heard stories.  Even in the caves there were always stories about places and people, even if they weren't always in the best of lights.  'And if those stories about goblins capturing kids is true... Maybe this is that kind of place?' he thought.  He decided to sit quietly and wait for the sun to go down again.  When it was dark he didn't think he would have any problem finding a hole in that hedge to slip through. Eventually he heard other feet above, and various sounds that didn't seem so ominous.  Dishes clinking.  Water pouring.  Fabric rustling.  Another pair or two of light feet.  Still, he'd heard plenty stories of goblins and beastmen who would trick travelers into bad situations.  From the shadows he could tell that the sun had finished its journey into the sky, and he began wondering if there was something he could play with while the day went by.  Watching a bunch of dirt wasn't very fun, so he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He had become so distracted by his imaginings that he didn't notice he'd been found until he heard the rustling of the soil just a little ways away.  His eyes opened and his head whipped around towards the sound, but all he could really make out was a vague Elezen-shaped shadow in a yellow dress.  It certainly didn't look like a goblin anyway, not that he knew what a goblin would look like.  The shadow twitched, as if surprised, and its head smacked into the wooden floor above it. The boy chuckled, 'Definitely not a goblin.  I bet I could take her!' "Ow... HEY!  That's not nice!" The shadow shouted at him, "That hurt!  You shouldn't laugh.  Or jump out at people in the dark.  Or interrupt birthdays.  Or run away and make messes!"  The voice sounded young and not very happy. He shrugged and tossed back, "Says who?" He could just barely make out the girl blinking in the dark as if the question had never occurred to her. "Parents!  If you do those things your parents will get angry.  And then you get in trouble and they send you to your room!" "They'd have ta catch me first." "Parents can do that!  They always catch you." "...Not always...  Hey, where are we?" "Under the house," the girl stated bluntly and then followed with "...stupid" a moment later. "Nah, I mean where is the house?  How far's it from the Caves?" "The what? Oh, I don't know. We could ask Esslar.  He knows lots of that sort of stuff.  He's smart and reads lots of books.  I could take you to him, but you have to promise not to be stupid or make any more messes!"  The girl didn't wait for a reply and he didn't bother giving one, but he did follow her out from under the building; all thoughts of goblins and traps forgotten now.  Once in the sunlight, he saw the pale skin and honey-colored hair of a Greenie. He'd seen them at least once before, though he couldn't remember where.  The girl also had a fancy looking bangle fitting loosely on her upper arm, which she kept having to adjust.  "Esslar's probably making breakfast now so we'll see him in the kitchen.  And maybe Granpa will be there! Oh, and my name's Crawa.  What's yours?" The boy thought for a moment on that question before finally answering "Eh, jess call me Garaf."