Garaf

From the OP:

Tolkien's elves were a little more complicated than that (even before you get into whether or not going to Valinor counted as "dying" or their "three stages of life") but the only hint in any of the official lore says that they tend to live just a bit longer than Hyur. I would assume from the context that they're referring to a difference of decades, not centuries. It's difficult enough to peg down a Hyur lifespan but I would guess it would, as an average, be somewhere in the ballpark of 70-80 and so the elezen might be in the vicinity of 90-100.

The specific wording states that they settled in the "caves of Eorzea" not "caves of the Twelveswood". The implication is that while all other story elements of the elezen as a whole seem to revolve around Gridania, the Duskwights settled all over Eorzea. So far as player-created lore, when the devs don't provide lore the players can either make it up as they go along, character by character, try to coordinate it as a community, or just ignore those aspects so far as roleplay is concerned. I wouldn't try to discuss the merits of each option, because that's a larger conversation, but a community driven attempt to create an open, non-binding body of lore on a specific subject (in this case Duskwights) does usually seem to be the best case scenario. Which isn't to say it's a perfect scenario, but it probably beats the alternatives. And there's certainly a wealth of cases (UO, WoW, TR, EVE) where player created lore eventually became official canon lore for some games. I wouldn't expect that to happen with XVI but I suppose it isn't entirely out of the question.

I think the answer here lies in something different. I think the two tribes grew apart simply because they lived in very different environments, but still held on to a similar culture. The "split," in terms of why the two tribes have animosity for one another, is stated to have something to do with the founding of Gridanian (and to a seemingly lesser extent, Ishgard) by the Wildwoods. We know that the founders of Gridania made a pact with the Elementals in the Black Shroud in order to secure the city-state. This deal (or the events surrounding it) are probably what lead to Gelmorra being fully abandoned. The animosity between the two tribes being caused by disagreement over this pact with the Elementals. Wildwoods went for it, Duskwights refused. Duskwights got kicked out and retreated further into seclusion. Gelmorra very well could have been one of the first elezen settlements when they came down from the north. This would explain why there are both above ground and below ground Gelmorran ruins. Long and short, my theory is that there was not a large amount of animosity between the two tribes when they gravitated to different living environments. The animosity came later, probably over what the Duskwights call the "loss of their homeland." This is what I would have assumed to be the case at first, and at first it seems to make a fair deal of sense. The bit I can't get past though is that it implies, if not requires, that the biological distinctions between the two subspecies developed entirely in the last 500 years. It doesn't seem like a long enough period of time for physical adaptations (namely the wildwood's eyesight and the duskwight's hearing) to occur that would differentiate the two. It's probably an academic point either way, and I apologize if there's been further discussion on it since Page 6. I haven't had the opportunity yet to catch up with everything yet.

When we were initially figuring out Garaf we didn't even have half the official lore we do now (which is saying a lot) so Garaf's background is pretty slim on details by necessity. He just shows up as a kid at Randirim Temple and grows up with the Nerians (a Wildwood family) and we've never really gone into where he was before then or what he might've been up to that lead him to Randirim Temple. Someday we might, but so far it's been pretty convenient to leave it be. When they were little, Crawa would make fun of him for being a "Duskie" and when Duran (another Wildwood) showed up he was very dismissive of Garaf but other than that he hasn't seen much in the way of discrimination. But then I don't usually write out much about his daily interactions with every random NPC he runs into. I've just assumed that he's not entirely welcomed everywhere and he probably doesn't expect to be. Garaf's the sort that he'd probably just roll his eyes or shrug and not really care if someone calls him names. Just to expand a little more on some of the other points made previously in this thread: There are definitely Duskwights in Gridania (at least as of the 2.0 Beta, I don't remember 1.0 well enough to say either way) but they're usually the nameless "filler" sort that you see bumming around. The most memorable of which is a downtrodden Duskwight getting chewed out by three Wildwoods in front of the Lancer's guild. From this I would conclude that Duskwights can, and occasionally do, reside in the cities and in the camps (I think there's another one out at Bentbranch) but they probably have to deal with a fair bit of discrimination in order to do so. There's probably a decent chance that these "urban" Duskwights are not representative of the subrace as a whole. Someone also mentioned the subterrarian city in the South Shroud (dead south of the Druthers) that's currently being investigated by two Duskwight scholars. If memory serves, the ruins are called Gelmorra and this used to be where everyone (purportedly Duskwight and Wildwood) lived before Gridania was founded. Everyone used to live in Gelmorra, then 500 years ago they made a pact with the elementals and that allowed them to move out from underground and found Gridania. One of the scholars mentions that he's studying the ruins in the hope that it might become a new home for the Duskwight people, thinking that with one place to call their own they might stop being seen as vagrants. This seems difficult to reconcile with the lore behind the split between the Wildwood and the Duskwights. The lore says that the Duskwights went underground, not that the Wildwoods came to the surface and seems to imply that the Wildwoods more closely resemble the "proto-Elezen". On top of that, I have a hard time picturing a race dividing along such disparate paths within 500 years. It seems like they would need much, much longer to develop into separate subspecies with distinct cultures. I would conclude then that Gamorra wasn't a Duskwight/Elezen city so much as just a city with a diverse population and probably did not play much into relations between the two. It's definitely something that could use further clarification from SE, but I don't know if we can count on that. Everything I saw on Gamorra came out of conversations with NPCs.

Server: Besaid Leaders/contacts: Garaf Bregaur, Crawa Nerian RP Style: Medium-Heavy Website/forum: http://randirim.org RP element: A loose affiliation of wanderers, travellers, and mostly (but not always) do-gooders Headquarters: Randirim Temple, an isolated structure in the woods outside Gridania Application criteria/process: Basically you post an application on our boards and we set up a small interview/RP session. Details can be found here. Rules: We're a pretty casual, mature group so we don't have much in the way of formal rules: * Don't be a jerk * Try to keep OOC and IC separate (or at least marked) Additional info: We have have a forum and Wiki up which contains more IC information about the Randirim as a group.

Chapter 9 Crawa learns her first spell with explosive results ââPull tha weeds, Garaf.â âMind tha tomatoes, Garaf.â âStop makinâ a racket, Garaf.â âFertilize tha garden, Garaf.ââ The Duskwight boy grumbled to himself as he dragged his feet to the garden shed. Between the lalafell and the old man, Garaf had found himself inundated with chores as soon as it had been determined that he was capable of them. Out of all his tasks, he found gardening to be the most boring of all, but he didnât exactly have the option of refusing. He swung open the door of the gardening shed, poking his nose into the dusty interior. Heâd spent hours in the warehouse but heâd barely ever even noticed the small shell behind the house. âIffinâ they ainât gonna tell me whatâs where howâm I gonna find it?â he muttered, digging through bags and boxes in an attempt to find the fertilizer he had been told to spread on the garden. Everything was dusty, and in the dim light everything looked the same, too. Eventually, his hands found a smallish bag nestled near the wall, and upon placing his hands within it found that it was full of a powdery substance. âThisâll do.â He carried the bag outside and proceeded to sprinkle it, rather more carelessly than he should have, over half the garden. It was early yet in the season, and few of the plants had emerged above the soil. The powder, dark in the sunlight, blended in with the soil until it was nearly invisible. Garaf tossed the bag on the ground by the shed and dusted his hands off. âYep! Thatâll do.â he thought triumphantly, before finding something more fun to do with the rest of his afternoon. * âGaraf! Garaf, where are you? You really must see this!â Crawa poked her head around the corner of the building where Garaf sat, whittling away at a piece of fallen wood. âOro?â The girl seemed just about to burst at the seams with excitement. She waved a small maple wand in her hand as she spoke. âGaraf, I finally did it! Grampa says Iâm really good at it, too!â Garaf grumbled and got to his feet. âWhazzat?â Crawa ran off into the open space near the garden and away from all the buildings. âCome over here and Iâll show you!â As Garaf wandered over, she picked up a fallen tree branch and stuck it into the ground like a fence post. She backed up several paces, motioning to Garaf to do the same. âI learned my first element, Garaf! Watch, watch!â Garaf leaned back against a wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. âWell lets see it then.â Crawa let the smile fall from her face, a look of concentration so intense coming over her that it was almost comical. She held her wand in both hands, screwing her eyes shut for several seconds before thrusting the instrument forward. âFIRE!â she yelled, her voice echoing off the walls of the buildings around them. The branch that she had so carefully placed in the ground began to smolder slightly, but that was all. Crawa groaned in frustration. âStupid!â Garaf held a hand to his ear sarcastically. âYep. I can hear them beastmen hordes fleeinâ in fear already.â âYou be quiet. I did it before and Iâll do it again. Now watch.â Crawa once again grasped her wand and closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths to calm down. âDestruction of nature, gather in flame⦠FIRE!â she yelled, jabbing the wand forward at her target. She opened her eyes, letting out a whoop of joy as the branch burst into colourful flames. âSee? SEE? I did it! I did it! I-â¦â She fell silent as the flames crept from the branch onto the garden soil. Suddenly Esslarâs precious garden of teas had turned into a minefield of erupting flame and smoke as the ground itself seemed to smolder and pop. In moments billows of aromatic, white smoke were wafting over a ruinated battlefield of a plant-bed. âTHATâS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!!â Crawa shrieked in horror. âHelp! Esslar! Grampa! HELP!â The two elders were already on their way of course, drawn by the sound of the explosion. Guthlac muttered a few words, and a thin wash of water welled from the ground to quell the remaining flames. âCrawa, sweetheart, what happened here?â he said as the last wisps of smoke began to dissipate into the air. The girl was on the verge of tears, and she stared balefully at the ruined garden for several seconds before responding. âI just wanted to show Garaf Fire and it wasnât working and then it did work and it went on the whole garden and I didnât know it would happenIâmSORRY!!!â she cried all in one breath before bursting into loud sobs. Meanwhile, Esslar, clearly shaken by the loss of his crop, tottered over to inspect the damage, leaning down to sniff at the scorched ground. Picking up some charred soil he rubbed it between his fingers and gingerly touched it to his tongue. He looked up at the others quizzically. âSirrah, this would seem to be black powder. It is no wonder Miss Crawaâs spell went beyond her control.â The old man raised his eyebrows in surprise, before leveling a stern glare at Garaf. The boy had adopted a posture somewhere between diving to the ground and beating a hasty escape as soon as the explosion started and heâd yet to relax from it. âBlack powder? Did you spread that on the garden, boy?â Garaf straighted out and pointed apprehensively to the discarded back by the shed. âWell tha fertilizer was a black powderâ¦â A cursory examination of the bag by Esslar confirmed its former contents. âI recall this parcel,â the lalafell explained, âSirrah Gilhend brought it back from one his ventures to Ulâdah. It contained a fine grain of gunpowder used in musketry and also in alchemy. I recall I had requested it for an experiment at the time but fear I had long forgotten both the experiment and the parcel.â Guthlac, with full measure of stern discipline in his voice, turned back to Garaf. âAnd you thought to spread this over the fields, boy? Do you know how dangerous that could have been? Someone could have been injured!â âHey! Wasnât âzactly my choice. Yaâll jess said spread some stinky stuff over the ground, ya didnât âzactly say what I should look fer or where taâ find it. Howâs Iâm supposed ta know thaâ stuffâd go kerfloosh?â âYou ask, boy. For that is the beginning of wisdom.â Esslar cut into the conversation before it could escalate further. âLuckily, most of what was burned was not⦠truly vital. I will dearly miss the ivory snow drop, and the longleaf, ⦠and the dragonsbud⦠but these plots were for my pleasure only, and not our foodstuffs. Come, Garaf. I will show you where the fertilizer is so that this may not happen a second time.â Esslar lead Garaf back to the shed and did his best to ignore the boyâs grumbling and how he walked as thought there were a dark storm cloud over his head. Crawa watched them go and huddled close to her grandfather. âGrampa?â she inquired hesitantly. His beard waggled as he responded. âYes?â Crawa chewed on her lip. âI think Iâd like to learn Water next.â

Chapter 8 An important visitor comes to Randirm Temple and a tense rivalry is born Garaf arrived at the gate in a rush, and suffered the bespectacled glare of Esslar for his trouble. Guthlac, Crawa and the lalafell stood in a neat line, all decked out in their formal wear. Garaf took his spot on the other side and attempted some last-minute neatening of his tunic. Even he was feeling the pressure of being conspicuously under-dressed standing next to the others, but he didnât own anything else to wear; a problem made all the more troublesome as he was fast outgrowing his one set of clothes. Esslar cleared his throat, and Garaf looked up from his tunic to see a procession of chocobos rapidly approaching down the path that led to the gate. He grinned goofily at the exhilarating sight of fully-equipped chocobos moving at speed, but another âhrmphâ from the lalafell at his side put a stop to that expression. The chocobos came to a stop just shy of the gate, momentum carrying a cloud of dust from their heels past the venerable wooden threshold. Most of of it wound up passing over a displeased Duskwight. Then, he saw that behind the two chocobos was a small coach, decorated with green paints and red enamels, and he watched as the porter slid from his perch and opened the door to the cabin. No sooner had the porter put down a step stool between the door and the ground than a stately looking boy appeared. He stepped down the stool, ignoring the porter, looking to Garafâs eyes the very image of a stately young prince, about the same age as Crawa. His clothes were formal, and obviously expensive, and the Duskwight reckoned that anyone with posture that perfect either had a stick along their spine or had never stooped to do a dayâs work. He instantly decided he favored the chocobos more than the much anticipated visitor. The other boy approached Guthlac and gave the man a formal bow, binding down at the waist so that his body formed an L. âI am most gracious for your hospitality, Ser Guthlac, and hope to return your generosity at the earliest available opportunity.â The formality of his speech and manner, juxtaposed with his young age, created an almost comic effect. Garaf barely kept himself from giggling. âIt is a pleasure to see you, Young Dasma. I only wish we could enjoy your company for more than a single evening.â âAlas, but my training needs must recommence on the eve of the morrow. If only there were time.â He stepped down the line to Crawa, never disturbing even a puff of dry dust with his silver and sable boots. Garaf squinted as he noticed that Crawa was blushing furiously, and he was sure that he could hear her heart fluttering in his ears. And that was before this âDasmaâ character knelt before her, took her hand in his and laid a kiss on the back of her palm. âMy lady looks dazzling this morning. I have anticipated this day for some time and can only hope that I live up to your expectations.â Crawa was speechless at the display, and now Garaf was sure his ears were picking up her heartbeat. It was the skip when the boy took her hand that convinced him. Dasma did not approach Esslar when he got back to his feet but he did give the scholarly lalafell a respectful nod. âMaster Esslar, even in the city we have heard of your esteem-able knowledge. Perhaps later we might discuss the history of the Wailers?â Esslar bowed in turn and replied. âCertainly, Sirrah.â Dasmaâs eyes barely even fell on Garaf before he turned back to Crawa. âNow, if you would be so kind as to have your boy get my things, I should be delighted to see this Temple I have heard so much about.â It didnât immediately dawn on Garaf just what Dasma had meant, not until he saw Esslar pointing expectantly at a small mountain of luggage that the porter had just set in the road. When it did dawn on him, Garaf commenced with flinging daggers from his eyes right into the back of the silver-haired wildwood boyâs head. It took two trips, and another face of dust as the coach rode off, for Garaf to haul all the luggage to the guest room on the second floor of the house. More than once he considered lugging them out a window and leaving the jangling, jingling contents to roll and rust on the ground. It was only the thought of Guthlac and Esslarâs reactions that stayed his hand. Still, it didnât stop him from concocting a creative method of piling the luggage so that, at the slightest touch, it would topple to the ground. From then on he went about his day. He had spent the last three days cleaning every ilm of floor and wall in the Temple so he grabbed a fishing pole and decided to make himself scarce for awhile. Esslar eventually passed him by, however, and asked that he check in on the other two children. Garaf found them in the library, politely tittering on the history of this and that. He slid the door open and stepped through nonchalantly, still toting his tackle in one hand. ââEy. Esslarâs wantinâ ta know iffinâ yaâllâr gettinâ along?â âOh, Crawa,â came the detestable voice of Dasma, âI know I shouldnât but I feel I must speak to it. You really should do something about your servant. Heâs quite filthy and has that insolent way about him. Surely youâve heard the reputation of the Greys. No good can come from associating with his kind.â When asked later why heâd done it, Garaf could never recall quite why heâd gotten so mad at that. Heâd never done something like it before, that he could recall, but the other boyâs words had just stripped through his inhibitions. When Dasma happened to look back towards Garaf he found a bony grey fist hurtling towards his face. Knuckle connected with forehead, and Dasma rolled backwards, either to avoid the brunt of the blow or because of it. He got back to his feet in a flash and threw a punch at Garaf, who ducked inside it and tried to knee Dasma in the groin, though the other boy blocked it. From there it quickly broke down into a cascade of fists and feet and elbows as the two boys tumbled around the Library. Crawa shouted at them both, but neither of them heard. Garaf had speed and strength, but Dasma had discipline, and neither had a clear advantage over the other from the outset. Somehow during the hubbub, Guthlac had appeared in the doorway. âENOUGH!â His voice boomed like a crack of thunder and the fight paused until Garaf resumed gnawing on Dasmaâs ankle and the fight resumed. At least, until the old man stomped across the room and pulled them both apart by their ears. Both of them were scraped, bruised and scuffed in equal measure and a dangerous glare passed between them. âGaraf! To your room! Dasma, you will come with me!â The two boys continued glaring as they were marched away until the walls got in the way. Even then Garaf continued to frown, as though his glance could cut through the wood. Neither had noticed Crawa crying back in the Library. Garaf was in his room alone for several minutes before Esslar came in to join him. He wore a stern look on his face, but none of the anger that Garaf had expected. The lalafell approached where Garaf lay on his bed but stood to the side. âI must admit that I am considering checking that head of yours for further injury; to explain your recent lapse of sanity. Yet I am well aware that the thickness of your cranium would render such things considerably improbable. Tell me though, do you understand the importance of Sirrah Dasma?â Garaf stared up at the ceiling and tried to recall if it had ever been mentioned, but he couldnât remember anything specific; heâd just kept hearing how important Dasma was. âHeâs a richie hoity-toity.â âHmmm⦠well, that in of itself may be true, but it does not, in and of itself, impart any significance within these walls. Dasma is Crawaâs betrothed. Do you understand that?â âMeans theyâre gonna be hitched.â âIndeed. Dasma comes from a very old family in Gridania; one with a noble history of defending the city and its surroundings. His family and the Nerian family have a centuries-long history of inter-marrying. Their wealth helps support this Temple, while we reciprocate with spiritual wealth, to put it one way. Our spheres complement each other. Crawa was promised to Dasma very soon after she was born, in fact. Yet his family has another tradition, one that requires Dasma to become an officer among the Wood Wailers;the legion of lancers that have long defended Gridania. To follow that tradition he must enter into the training for this on his seventh birthday, which is in less than four days. His parents sent him here as a long-planned sojourn, and so that he and Crawa might have memories of each other before they reach the age where they might be joined.â âSo?â Garaf wasnât quite sure where Esslar was going with all this. In his head the silver-haired boy was still just a âhoity-toity.â âSo, Dasma comes from a clearly different environment. One that is, perhaps, somewhat⦠ungracious towards others. If it is too much to ask for you to respect him, then you should tolerate him. If not for his sake, then for Crawaâs.â Garaf answered with a âhmphâ and rolled over towards the wall. He had understood what Esslar had said, or thought he had, but he still wasnât quite satisfied. A few minutes later, Esslar left Garaf to brood in silence. Garaf decided, if only to respect Crawa, to avoid the other boy and found that it wasnât hard. He stayed in his room much of that day, carving and whittling to pass the time. He had no visitors, and was quite content with that. The next day he went out to the warehouse and used the makeshift forge there to continue working on a number of projects. A few of them were items he had been asked to repair, but just as many were personal projects of his. He grinned every time the hammer fell; secretly hoping that the clanging would annoy their oh-so-important visitor. He heard the cart approach the gate in the late afternoon, and finally left the forge. He scurried up to the roof of the house and watched as the other four assembled around the coach. He felt his first pang of guilt when he saw Esslar huffing to carry Dasmaâs things, but then he only got more annoyed at the precocious boy. A few minutes later he was gone, and Garaf fell on his back with a sigh of relief. âGood riddance!â Crawa, however, watched the dust of the coachâs passage until it faded into the distance and the great gates that spanned the hedge were closed.

Chapter 7 Crawa tottered outside, a large book in her hands and a wild grin on her face. Spotting Garaf across the green courtyard, she waved and shouted to get his attention. "Garaf!" The Duskwight boy turned, scowling in the sun with shovel in hand. A narrow ditch extended from where he stood to some ilms away, evidence of a morning of labour. As usual, he didn't seem to exactly ecstatic to be deprived of his freedom to laze about for the entire day. "Garaf! I'm learning magic!" Esslar shuffled up behind her, nudging her shoulder and correcting her gently. "You have but begun to learn the most rudimentary basics which might one day lead to an eventual preliminary understanding of the fundamentals of the elements. That's IF you manage to maintain your studies." Crawa sobered immediately. "Yes, sir." The lalafell smiled. "You are free to go now, Crawa, but take care not to disturb Garaf in his work." Esslar turned a discerning eye to the boy who had gone back to driving the spade into the soil. "It seems he still has some way to go." He wandered off, leaving Crawa with her book. She waited a moment, then put it down and ambled up to Garaf, inspecting his handiwork. "What'cha doing?" The boy looked up and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Esslar wanted me to dig 'em a ditch so he can catch rainwater fer his garden, or something. It'd be easier iffin' tha ground was actually made of dirt instead of rocks." The ground was indeed stony, and the shovel was chipped in a few places from the effort of driving it through the earth. Crawa looked down at it introspectively for a moment, before giving a shout. "Hey! Look at that one!" Garaf furrowed his brow and peered into the dirt. "What?" "That rock! Right there - it moved!" She bent down until her nose was nearly level with the stone in question. It was mottled and had an odd shape, and as the two stared at it, it shifted slightly and a small protrusion poked out of its side. Crawa gasped as four tiny legs and a head slowly emerged from the stone. "That's not a rock! It's a ... a turtle!" She reached forward to pick the creature up, nearly falling into the ditch herself but managing to finally lift it out. She straightened, holding it up in front of her in triumph. Garaf grumbled "Yes. It's positively fascinating", mimicking the way their tutor spoke on things of scholarly interest. "Isn't he adorable?" Crawa cooed, placing the turtle down on the ground and watching it closely. "What should we do with it?" "Make soup." Crawa ignored him. "I think we should play house! It'll be fun! See, you'll be the papa, and I'll be the mama, and he can be our baby!" Garaf wrinkled his nose in a look of both confusion and mild disgust. "I ain't gonna do that! I don't wanna be that thing's dad!" And then under his breath, quiet enough that she wouldn't hear he said "'n who'd wanna marry you?" The girl rolled her eyes. "It's just pretend, stupid. Besides, I already know who I'm going to marry, for real. And we're going to have LOTS of babies." The proud declaration caught Garaf unawares and he cocked his head with a curious "Oro?" "Yep! His name is Dasma, and Mama said I'm going to marry him when I grow up! I can't wait, I'll get to wear a pretty dress and everything!" The girl spun around, grinning, as though she were at a ball. "Well ain't that just grand fer ya." The boy was annoyingly unenthusiastic as he lifted his shovel to resume his chore. "Hmph. I'm going to go study, if you're going to be so boring." "Suit yerself." "Have fun digging, stupid. Come on," she beckoned to the turtle, who ambled up behind her. "Let's go."

Chapter 6 The sun shone through the canopy of the trees and cast a shifting, green-hued pattern over the world below. It was in this world that a thin boy in a worn grey tunic sat, under a tree with a pile of fallen branches at his side. Garaf had finished collecting all the wood he'd needed, but he was more interested in watching the patterns of light and shadow play out over the forest floor than returning to the Temple (and most likely being charged with yet another menial task). Mesmerized by the mosaic of light, he never noticed the approaching steps, or had a clue that he was no longer alone, until a dark shadow was cast over his resting spot. He cast his eyes upward to see a dim, yet familiar silhouette. "AH-HAH! I found you!" Crawa cried, triumphantly. "Oro?" "Granpa said I should wait till you came back, and Mister Esslar said I shouldn't wander around the woods on my own, but I was not going to let you run off again so I snuck off when Mister Esslar was getting his tea and I walked through all of the woods and I found you!" Garaf frowned, not quite sure how to take Crawa's boastful pride. "S'not like I was hidin' or nuthin'... 'N I was gonna come back!" "Of course. You can't hide from me! I know all the woods now! All of them!" "So you know how ta get back ta tha' Temple?" "Yes!" Crawa proudly proclaimed, setting her fists to her hips. A few moments passed in relative silence before Crawa began to look around her with a worried expression. "Ummm..." For his part, Garaf just rolled his eyes. "S'over there." He pointed east from where they were sitting and then paused. When Crawa's eyes followed his own, she froze as well. Near to where he had pointed, a bright yellow creature had emerged from the brush. It was a bird, and one so tall that its legs alone were taller than either of them. It strutted with a powerful gait, occasionally pecking at the ground with a great golden beak as long as Crawa's forearm. "Oooohh... chocobo," she said, under her breath. "It looks fast." Garaf's voice was just as reverent as hers, genuinely amazed by what he saw, but his next words were simply inevitable: "I'm gonna ride it!" "Don't be thick, stupid," Crawa put on the best lecturing tone she could manage in a whisper. "How would you ever get on it? Do you think it's just going to stop, and let you hop on?" The boy gave her a wink in reply, and then quickly and reasonably silently turned and scuttled up the tree he'd been sitting against. Crawa looked helplessly back and forth between her friend and the grazing bird with a growing look of concern. For his part, Garaf managed to move through the branches quite well, and wove his body through the web of branches, passing from tree to tree, until he was perched directly over the chocobo. He gave Crawa a wink through the foliage and then leapt forward. Grinning like a puppy, he plummeted through the air towards the great yellow back. However, the chocobo took a single step forward, and Garaf hit the ground behind it with a loud "OOF!" At the impact, the bird startled and bolted off screeching, "WAAARK!" The Duskwight sat up to the sound of laughter, spitting out a mouthful of dead leaves. Crawa had already walked over to him, her face contorted in mirth. "You.. you," she gasped between bouts of laughter, "You jumped, and... and... haha! He moved, and you went... ha! SMACK! Hoohooohoo!" She started wandering off through the woods toward the north, giggling all the way. Garaf only grinned, his heart still pumping from the close encounter with the chocobo. It was not an experience he would soon forget.

Bazaar I have, on occasion, taken an hour or so and just browsed the Market and enjoyed it. On one or two occasions I was looking for a specific this or that but generally I was just poking around. It has a much more... authentic feel to it than visiting an AH. About the only change I'd like SE to implement (that I could see having any chance of happening) would be limiting the number of retainers in each zone. Currently everyone crowds into the first zone on the list and it becomes difficult to even move around inside the Market. The retainers are packed so densely that the "render cap" is reached within a couple yards of your character. You wind up moving 4-5 times just to get all/most of the retainers in a single room to render. I would very much like to see some sort of sorting mechanism as has been suggested, but I can't really see SE implementing one. I could see the player community adopting some sorting standards eventually (e.g. East Wards for Gear, North Wards for Crafting, West Wards for consumables, etc) but there'd need to be some maturing before that happens. At a guess, the AH would likely be fully implemented by then. Mouse/Gamepad/Keyboard After going through all the necessary fiddling to get a PS3 controller working on my PC I gave FFXIV a shot with the Gamepad for a few hours and then went back to the keyboard. Anecdotally I seem to be the only one who prefers the keyboard to the Gamepad, but the latter just felt awkward and cumbersome. Particularly with all the menus that are pervasive throughout the entire interface. The mouse would handle these menus pretty well but for some reason there's a noticeable mouse-lag anytime menus or panes (like inventory) are up. Combat Speed I noticed they sped up the combat animations and stamina bar with the last major update and that's made battle flow even faster and I've found it to be quite enjoyable. I think any more fiddling would just throw it off though. Guildleves I think I can understand why SE has the 48 hour cooldown between guildleves, but I don't see it (in and of itself) encouraging any partying. People will party if they were going to anyway, but not just to accomplish leves. It does have merit in "encouraging" people to do more than just regional leves (battlecraft, fieldcraft, or factional) or localleves (crafting, has a separate cooldown from regional leves) to enjoy the game. Things such as browsing the markets, exploring the terrain, grinding, working on gathering/crafting, or maybe even RPing. But while there may be merit for the existence of the cooldown, I wouldn't say that the length of it is justified. I'd like to see it halved to 24 hours, or even taken down to 12 hours if necessary. I'd wager this would eventually happen, but probably not until some months after launch.

Chapter 4 "That'n looks like a cake!" "Stupid, every cloud looks like a cake to you." "I'm hungry..." Crawa sighed and kicked her heels at the tile. She and Garaf had been spending plenty of time on the roof during the past few weeks, when the sun had been shining nearly non-stop. Although she wasn't supposed to be up there, she was beginning to enjoy the warm and quiet retreat from the world below. "Hey... didn't Mister Esslar give you work to do today?" "Yep." "So... did you do it already, or what?" "Iffin' I had do ya think I'd be up here?" "Shirker! I'll tell!" "Nah, you wouldn't." "I will!" "Iffin' ya tell 'em then he'll know why ya weren't in your history lessons." Crawa frowned at Garaf disapprovingly, but stayed. A few minutes of silence went by before the sounds of shouting drifted up to them from the other side of the compound. "Hey, do you hear that?" The Duskwight rolled his eyes. "S'not like I couldn't. Sounds like fun though. Let's go see!" "Let's not - wait!" Garaf had already shimmied down from his perch, dropping to the ground and running around the building. Crawa sighed and followed after him, taking more caution with her decent so as not to mar her clothing, and made their way towards the sounds. They soon found themselves watching the Gate where Guthlac stood shaking his cane at a cadre of rough-looking Hyur. Crawa, not liking the look of the troublemakers, shouted out "Grampa!" "Garaf? Crawa? You two should go inside." The children turned as they heard Esslar's approach behind them. The lalafell seemed slightly worried as he looked around them to the scene playing out in front of the gate. "Let the Ser deal with the vandals." * "I simply asked you to abstain from vandalizing our hedge." He made a gesture. "It is as much a part of the Temple as are its walls, and I must ask you not to disrespect it so." "Ach! Ya 'ear that boyos? First we gotta get out o' town 'n then this 'ere ol' fella wants ta keep us out o' 'is place! Now see 'ere, Mister, we don't much care fer your bushes. Why we'll mince 'em up right now if we want! And then we'll take everythin' ya got! If ya don't want ta get hurt ya'll keep out of our business!" One of the strange men elbowed the other out of his way as he stepped forward. "Who're ya, mah mother? Ya couldna stop us if ya tried. Tha' stick thar ain't nuthin'. If ya're all tha's guardin' tha place then that ain't nuthin'! We shoulda hit this place lots earlier!" The men laughed. 'Grampa' Guthlac only nodded. "Suit yourselves, son. I shall have to take precautions to ensure the safety of my home, of course." "Ya, right. Come on, boyos!" The loud man motioned at the others to move towards the gate and drew a long half-rusted knife with a smirk. The old man sighed and stood his ground. "Very well, then. I was really hoping that I would not have to do this." "Aww-Shut it, Gramps!" The ruffians continued moving forward with their belligerant stance and taunting jibes. They halted though as a shadow fell over them; the pale blue sky darkening suddenly out of seemingly nowhere. Guthlac grimaced up at the sky, motioning to the three men. "Well, will you look at that... it looks like the weather is going to turn nasty soon, wouldn't you say?" With that three slender bolts of lightning arced down out of the clouds striking the ground just inches in front of the vandals. They looked at the old man in incredulity and then without another word set off running in the opposite direction. "Imagine that." Guthlac murmured as the clouds dissipated as quickly as they had come. * Crawa watched with Garaf and Esslar from a distance, gasping as the lightning struck by the vagrants. She turned to Garaf with a kind of fierce pride in her eyes. "I'm going to be able to do that one day!" she exclaimed. "Not for quite some time, Miss Crawa," Esslar reminded her sternly. "Garaf, I believe I set you to some tasks earlier this morning. Have you completed repairing the equipment already?" Garaf only scuffed his toes at the ground and muttered something incomprehensible. Crawa grinned at him, until the lalafell turned her way. "And you, Miss Crawa, have a considerable amount of studying to do. And, if you please," he gave her a questioning expression, "abstain from doing it on the roof in the future." Crawa's eyes widened as he mentioned the roof, but nodded quickly and ran off. She was already imagining throwing lightning bolts at "bad guys", just like her Grampa.

Chapter 3 "Sit still, please." Garaf made a face at the wall but complied while the Lalafell pushed his hair aside to inspect the nasty scar on the side of his temple. "Do you feel any discomfort?" The bespectacled scholar probed the tissue with a finger, checking its integrity. "Only when strange people start pokin' at my head." "Erm, yes..." Esslar released his head and turned to make some notes in one of the canvas-bound volumes he always seemed to be carrying about. Garaf snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye but all he could recognize was that he didn't recognize the lettering. His mind leapt to notions of goblins and trickster spirits but he also recalled that Crawa had told him the Lalafell had been some sort of big smarty pants at something called a 'mooss-em.' He wondered if everyone at a 'mooss-em' would write things differently. All the same, Esslar began speaking again after several moments had already passed in silence. "Still, an outside observer might conclude that it is your scenario which is the least orthodox of all. Your arrival was most... peculiar, for a variety of factors, and you still have not explained your own origins." "S'not like I'm keepin' secrets or nothin'. I just don't 'member. I can 'member some Caves with all their comfy shadows 'n all, but don't 'member actually bein' nowhere till I showed up here. What? Ya think I'm lyin'?" The boy squinted at the full-grown Lalafell in an attempt to be menacing. Even given their comparative ages, they were both about the same height. "Not at all. I believe you are quite sincere in the absence of your knowledge concerning your own origins. Severe impacts to the cranium, such as the one which seems to have caused your wound, are known for inducing loss of memory. It is possible that your memories may return in time, though I could not postulate as to the probability of such an occurrence. I am curious however - are you not concerned with the possibility that there may be some persons, outside the Randirim Temple, who may have a vested interest in your well-being and whereabouts?" "...Huh?" "Wouldn't your parents be worried about you?" Garaf shrugged, genuinely not concerned. "I figure, iffin' they was important, I'd 'member 'em either way." Esslar's expression indicated quite clearly that he didn't agree, but he gathered up his items without any further comment and turned towards the door. "You are in good health, I'm pleased to say. I would appreciate your assistance on the morrow with some repairs which must be made about the grounds." "...Ya mean work?" Esslar didn't pause for further comment, as he really was quite busy, but answered "Indeed." and exited the room. Garaf was left to half-heartedly grumble about his free ride finally being over. When he got bored doing that, he opened his window and leaned out to grab the ledge of the roof and, with some amount of effort, drag himself onto the roof. He laid down against the sun-warmed tiles, tucked his hands behind his head and began to hum aloud. He was terribly off-key and exhibited no discernible tune, but he boldly continued onward with full childish bravado. He stopped when he heard a window open below him. A familiar head poked through, squinting up at him. "Hey!" Crawa waved up at him. "What are you doing up there? I could hear you from the other room!" Garaf just shrugged. "Why don'tcha come up 'n see?" "I'm not allowed on the roof!" "Then I'll just be enjoyin' this view all by myself." A few minutes later, a small hand appeared over the edge of the roof. Garaf scooted over to the edge and did his best to assist Crawa as she too shambled onto the tiles. After a few minutes of huffing, grunting, and complete disregard for the lack of safety inherent to dangling from a ledge several yalms above the ground, the two lay side by side on their backs and watched the clouds float by. "So, do you know any other songs?" "Dunno that one. I made it up good 'n proper. You?" "Yep! Mama sings all the time. Wanna hear one of her songs?" "Shar." In truth, Crawa's reproduction of her mother's melody was less accurate than she may have believed, but she faithfully recited the song for the better part of an hour. "Mama's out there right now, doing really important things," she said as she finished, pointing at the horizon. "What do your parents do?" "Dunno. I don't 'member any." "Really? No wonder you're so bad! But," Crawa dropped her voice to a confidential whisper, "you can share my parents. Okay?" Garaf paused for a few moments as if mulling the notion over in his head before casually replying "'k." "I think they'd like you," she said, assertively. "'N when they come back for my birthday next year you can meet them properly. Maybe Mama will teach us another song! That would be nice." "Mm... heh," Garaf elbowed her. "That cloud looks like 'n aldgoat." "Which...? I don't see it." "That one, right there." "Stupid, that doesn't look anything like an aldgoat." "Iffin' s'not 'n aldgoat then what s'it, Smarty-Stockin's?" "Hmm... like a bush, or a big flower." "Huh. I like tha aldgoat better." "Flower." "... I'm hungry."

Chapter 2 It was a good week and a half before Crawa finally forgave Garaf for the escapade that had ended with one of her favourite dresses covered in mud. Although Crawa still studied on her own with Esslar, she had begun to drag the boy (once literally) to some of her tutor's lessons - a project which Garaf did not seem to appreciate nearly as much as anyone had hoped. âFor the last time, we're not trying to indo-.. induct-...indoctamate you - stupid!â Crawa hissed across the table at the sullen figure on the other end. âI'm supposed to look after you. You should learn something too!â The boy stuck his tongue out and made a silly face. âNuh uh. I can take care of myself jess fine. Yer prolly younger 'n me, even!â âYeah, well, you still act like a baby! Stupid.â â... Children?â Esslar entered the room in the usual manner: cloth bound book in one hand, tea in the other, and the skeptical scowl that seemed permanently affixed behind his spectacles ever since the young Duskwight had come to reside at the Temple. Crawa snapped to attention as the Lalafell came in, while Garaf yawned loudly o slouched lower into his chair. âI'm afraid I shall have to let you alone for just a few more minutes. Your grandfather has a short errand for me, Crawa, and I must complete it before we commence today's lesson. I assure you it is quite unavoidable but should only occupy a few moments of this afternoon's lesson plan.â âOkay!â Crawa answered obediently. Garaf only mumbled something under his breath as Esslar left. The door had only been shut for a few short minutes before the boy piped up at his usual volume. âI'm hungry.â he proclaimed to the roof as though it should somehow redress the situation. âYou should have eaten breakfast, stupid.â Despite having a voracious appetite for someone his size, the boy had developed an uncanny knack for missing meals. â... meh. Why bother gettin' up that early? I'm gonna get somethin' ta eat.â He hopped off his chair and strode for the door. âHey! Wait! Where are you going?â Crawa leapt up and followed him. âTha kitchen... where else?â he tossed back with a shrug. âThe kit-... you can't just take stuff from the kitchen! We're not allowed!â â..So?â Garaf ran through the door and down the hall, Crawa following with an unending barrage of childish threats and admonishments. Despite her best efforts, they found themselves in the otherwise deserted temple kitchen. The boy started casting around, opening cabinets and drawers while Crawa wavered nervously in the doorway. âWe're going to get in trouble, stupid! ...Hurry up!â Her mind was full of notions that someone would find them at any moment and all the terrible punishments that would inevitably occur. âYeah, yeah... oh!â Garaf had stumbled upon a large ceramic urn, which upon opening the top was revealed to be full of cakes. Each one was bigger than Crawa's two fists combined. Garaf wasted no time in pulling two out before replacing the lid. He crammed one into his mouth, spilling crumbs everywhere. âMessy...!â Crawa muttered, frowning at the crumbling cake. Garaf paid her no heed. âHar,â he mumbled through his full mouth. âHab 'un.â He held the second cake up in front of her. Crawa wavered, looking out the door and into the hallway before ascertaining that nobody would see them. She quickly snatched the cake out of his hands. âDon't talk with your mouth full.â âBlaaaaaaaa,â Garaf retaliated, opening his cake-filled mouth wide. Crawa made a face and bit gingerly into her cake. âYou're gross.â âYer a goody-boo.â Crawa set her hands on her hips in her best attempt at an indignant stance. âAm NOT! Take it back, stupid!â âNope.â âMeanie!â âGoody-boo.â âI'm gonna tell Mister Esslar!â Garaf raised an eyebrow. âThen yer gonna get in trouble iffin yer still eating cake.â Crawa frowned and stared at her cake. âFine. But we're going to go back to the library now before anyone catches us. Okay?â Garaf just shrugged and followed her out. By the time the Lalafell returned to the classroom, there was no trace of any cake on either of them thanks to Crawa's meticulous cleaning. When the lesson was over, the two children made their way out of the room together. âYa know, cakes ain't bad...â âShhh! We were stealing! That's bad!â âHeh, didn't seem ta stop ya from enjoyin' your sweet bit anyway.â âI'm never doing it again! Ever!â Garaf only shrugged and pulled another, rather squashed cake out of his pants pocket and wordlessly broke it in half and offered a piece of it to Crawa. She hesitated, then grabbed it from him. âDon't tell anybody,â she mumbled. âWhy'd I ever tell?â âPromise?â âGoody-boo.â â...you're still stupid.â

What would you do if the supplies ran out and you had to decide between zombies or cannibalism?

You're not really prepared unless you already know how many planks of plywood it would take to "secure" your domicile (4 in my case).

I am still, and likely always will, refer to them as Galka. And I will frequently call the others Mithra, Tarus, Elvaan, and Humes. Given this very particular scenario with SE "adapting" the previous races (and the fact I find the previous names to be easier to say/remember/use) I find little problem with this (so long as it's not in an IC context). Especially since I imagine most of the people who'll play XIV also played XI so they'll be familiar with these terms. I also keep trying to devise new abbreviations for the classes. So far I'm up to PUG, THM, ACR, GLD, MAD, BOT, MNR, etc. I wouldn't be at all surprised if there were already a list of these up somewhere that have been all approved and discussed and such and I'm just woefully uninformed.

I'm down with the flamethrower, possibly with some moltov cocktails for a "ranged attack" and the classic machete if they ever got in too close. But if resources aren't an issue and we could have absolutely anything... well I'm tempted to go with an A-10 Warthog for transportation. You know, just in case the zombies start driving tanks... or maybe there'll be tanks that are zombies...

There certainly seem to be plenty of people here set on the CE. So if that's assumed to be representative of the player base at large then there should be a pretty sizeable "pre-population" come launch day. I started preordering a CE as soon as they became available but switched to a Standard after I found out that was the only way the goggles would be available. Granted they're not the only goggles in the game, but being able to start with them would just be grand. =P I was a scootch disappointed/surprised that the CE wasn't going to come with the soundtrack (which I guess has just been announced separately) but, art book and onion helm aside, there doesn't seem to be much in the CE besides the early start. Has anyone found out what the Right of Passage is? I gather that it's customizable, but the SE info page neglects to mention what it actually is (in game item? certificate for your wall? ticket through a dimension-warping field into the reality of Eorzea?) ...

The site is pretty well done (even with all the scrolling). Two thumbs up! :approve: :approve: