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It's been a week since I arrived in Ul'dah, I've been too nervous to try and talk to anybody and I am starting to get lonely. I worry that He may find me, or that He may have people working for him in Ul'dah.... But I'm starting to get low on gil ... I will need to do some more odd jobs just to pay for the room I've been renting at the Inn. I've been told there's some work in Aleport so I suppose I will head there for the day.
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A young Roegadyn steps out of a small shack almost as big as him into the cool dawn air. Hauling a large pack on his back and looking over a small book in his hand. Taking a last look around the orchard he had been working for in the past from moons. He takes a big deep breath, as if trying to breath it all in for him to keep within him. He opened his book and wrote, Looking through the past few months in his book, he knew he can’t stay any longer than he had. He had to keep moving, staying here was just something to give himself comfort and give for time to pass hoping who he was looking for might find him instead. He makes his way to the guildmaster’s home, as he had promised many moons ago, that he would explain to her everything, and thank her for taking him in during such a turbulent time. *Knock*Knock* His large hands tried their best to knock as gentle as possible. The door opened slowly, and from the other side a young Lalafell woman peaked her head out. “Ah, O’nikki, I was expecting you.” she said. It was Fufucha, Gridania’s master of the Botanist guild. She took a scan of the Roegadyn on the other side of her door. Taking into account how attire, ready to go out of the city and ready to face the dangers of the wild. “I see, such a shame to see you go. You were a promising student, but it did feel as if our path is not yours to walk. Come in, it is cold outside.” she opened the door wide inviting him in. “Thank you very much for providing me with shelter in my time of need.” O’nikki said gently. “Let us have something to drink before you go. You really have opened up more since you got here.” A small smile grew on her face. “I believe you have a story you promised me, concerning how you got this far?” she said curiously as she closed the door. He looked inside himself and tried to think where would be the best place to start. Six months ago. Yeah, that might have been when it all started. -
I'm finally home. After a long few months aboard the airship the Longpatrolman, I have made my way back home to Limsa Lominsa. I believed the tethers that bound me here broken, but after a time with the crew of this privateer company, I'm reminded that I never really am able to leave my city or Eorzea, but simply turn away from her for a time. I am conflicted as I walk through the sun-bleached stones of my city. Adulation that much is the same, yet curious at how much is different. Terror, too, at once more not knowing anyone, having severed contact with many people as I attempted to rearrange myself and my priorities. I don't expect warm welcomes or even open arms, and so I enter this city like any fresh piece of flotsam arriving to dock. I will make my way home and will lend my arm to a better cause. Not to infer that the duty of the Longpatrolman was selfish, exactly. I still believe that its intention of exploration and recovering artifacts was a suitable and worthy endeavor for my talents, and it brought about no lack of tales to tell. Still, something inside me stirs me to an action that is greater than any mission an airship crew can provide. Today, I will rest. Tomorrow, I begin the task of seeking work that will help me towards leveraging my new strength and determination to some greater good. It is my hope that this good will not serve a government or a king or a sultanate, but will help people. I have at least a couple of leads in that regard, and hope that following them will bear fruit. But that is tomorrow. For now, I miss the ale of the Drowned Wench, which is not a sentence I ever thought I'd write.
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This leather bound tome can be found randomly in the Rising Sun, home of the Ascendant Dawn. In the kitchen, near the baths, or just sitting on the front desk, the owner of this diary seems to treat the adventuring companies headquarters as if it is her home. And perhaps in some ways, it is. The book is protected only by a small lock on the front cover, though it is the simplest of mechanical locks, easily opened by anyone with any skill, or even occasionally poping open on its own if jolted. The script inside starts off somewhat shaken at first, but becomes a little more flowing and elegant with every entry.
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The leatherbound journal appears well kept, it’s contents filled with notes and writings in both Eorzean and Xaelic handwriting. It would seem the original intent for the journal was to log crafting projects, yet the owner of this journal has used it for training notes and techniques, as well as personal diary entries. The most recent entry is marked with the date and number of the entry. Today proved eventful, more so than usual. The Combat Fields provided a challenge unlike anything I’ve experienced since coming to the realm. I believe it may serve as a benchmark: being able to triumph in the tourney will be proof that I’m growing stronger, faster, more skilled. And yet, despite the wounds I suffered, and the experiences of this fighting competition, it’s what happened much later into the night that proved far more eye opening. I met a Xaela woman, one who confronted me on staring after I had yet another incident with zoning out. A conversation was struck, about another tourney held in a brothel. It appears to be something similar to the Quicksand, strangely enough. She’s invited to show me later. I ended up coming with her to the private estate of another, and treated to a meal, as well as a tour. But before that, she kissed me. She did so with my consent, of course. Despite being no stranger to sex, I’ve not experienced a proper kiss. While one might wish to save it for someone special, I thought it prudent to be prepared for when, and if, that special someone appears. It was a strangely caring gesture, and by the end of the night, as I prepared to depart, she kissed me again. The second kiss, and what followed it, gave me insight I previously lacked. She offered future kisses, along with the training in magic and combat we discussed prior. For a blind woman relying on aether sight, she appears to be quite proficient in combat. In my flustered panic, I found myself falling back on my combat training, focusing my mind and trying to explain my stance. That I believed it best that I sort out the confusion in my mind at my own pace. She told me to speak from my heart when that explanation came out messy and confused. Instinct is useful when honed by practice, yet I’ve little experience with the heart. Nevertheless, an attempt was made. It was then that she professed that she wanted this, and kissed me again. It was… alarmingly passionate. One could argue loving, though I wouldn’t know what “love” feels like when given by another. I’ve never had someone hold me by the hip before, not unless they were preparing to do me harm. I had to ask her how she could develop passion so rapidly. Even after her answer, I still find myself puzzled. She spoke of imagining us as more than friends, even though we had only just met. It’s strange. Not bad, but strange. During that kiss, I felt an energy. A passion, but… I think it was more like the energy that comes with battle. How one feels the flow and heat of combat, how one channels that energy and uses it. And like the heat of battle, it threatened to consume me. Yet my father was nothing if not thorough, and like any fight, I was able to grip control before it could leave me. How does one find themselves with such feelings and passions so fast? Is it perhaps similar to the will to fight? How some are eager to fight, and do so as easily as breathing, while others need extraordinary circumstances, or people, to take up arms? I can’t claim to share her feelings, even though I enjoyed our kiss. We’ve formed a friendship, yet she seemed to suggest that if we go down the path of romance, than it happens. Does she mean to imply that love is a feeling that just… happens? Does that mean one cannot control it? That one cannot dictate whom they fall in love with? Despite the flurry of emotion, the confusion and shame on both sides, I’m actually happy she kissed me. It’s given me perspective, food for thought. I already feel like I understand this subject better than I did before. Yet I’m willing to bet that I won’t gain a true understanding until I experience it for myself. But… when will that happen, if it happens at all? And with whom? This land is so heavy with affection and romance. Maybe the aether is affecting people in unseen ways? Or maybe I was merely blind to it back at the Steppe. Maybe my father kept me blind from it, like he blinded me from many things. Regardless, it is a mystery I intend to get to the bottom of, one day. Thank Nhaama for this journal, it does wonder for helping me organize my thoughts. We shall see how things play out tomorrow -Karahekegu Malqir
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The penmanship in this curious little leather-bound journal appears messy as if the writer was shaken and stirred whilst in the process of putting her thoughts to paper. Some letters veer off far past their starting point, and some retain a semblance of balance and reason. "She's gone. Rosik is gone. My beloved wife is ... gone, I went on to my daily hunt and came back to an empty home. Not another soul to be seen, and she's been gone ever since. What's worse is that the beast has fallen silent since. I attended the grindstone, focused, but nothing came of it. It ... brought me back down some, and gave me time and what I needed to clear my head." A little smudge of what looks like ... grape juice? Whatever it is, it's parting the two passages and providing a very distinct gap betwixt the two. The handwriting in this passage is evidently starting to recover some, but it's still a mess. "I don't know what to do. I feel so lost for the first time in my life, that I can't even bring my rage to bear. I feel so lost that I can't even focus right now, my mind and my body function almost in tandem, and I mourn for my loss knowing there is little I can do to change it. I know I haven't written in this ancient book for ages, but maybe putting my thoughts to paper will bring me some measure of peace. Anything is better than simply laying here in the dark." The passage ends with a little flourish, the 'crossed out' sentence in it more visibly scribbled out than anything. Continuing forward, the highlander owner of this book seemingly doesn't mind that her handwriting has become significantly worse. "I intend to bring my axe and soul crystal up to Abalathia's Spine, well into the mountains such that I can bury my past as A Warrior. I need to put it behind me no matter how long it might take. I surmise that the journey would take several months, but it is one I am willing to take. If only to put this entire life behind me. Find some peace and serenity." "Maybe I'll meet my end on the road, that'd be blissful." "For now I intend to attend the magus invitational tonight, maybe make something of my poor mental state and have a bit of fun." "I should write in you more often. Cheers."
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Somewhere in the Thanalan region In a rugged desolate terrain a lone black clad armored man travels it not looking the least bit affected by the heat. He travels a steady and quick pace with full confidence in his desired location, as he travels he removes a small sheet from his persons and reads it aloud to himself to affirm its contents once more "Alliance supply cache located at these coordinates, destroy this cache. How you do this is at your behest but should you be captured or fail do not expect any sentiments of loss from us, you will either die to their hands or ours." The man sighs annoyed a bit but looks none too worried about the specter of death seeming traveling with him. His pace while remaining steady slows and he crouches low to the ground, the supply cache is in sight and is lightly guarded. He readies his lance that quietly hums to life and once at a proper distance takes a rather peculiar stance with his lance, he points its towards one of the guards and an energy begins to run through the lance. After a steady aim is taken the lance fires a precise ball of aether striking the guard felling him instantly. The other guards are completely startled by the occurrence just now and without missing a beat the black armored man closes the distance and thrusts his lance into another guard, the remaining guard charges him however he moves the man he impaled towards the charging guard causing the guard to momentarily pause. That brief second was all the man needed he quickly pulled back his lance from the guard he impaled, took quick aim and thrust it towards the remaining guard striking true. With the guards dispatched the man moves however much supplies he can into one location and places multiple devices around the supplies. Once finished with this task he flips a switch and begins to walk away at a calm pace while all the devices begin to beep in unison, roughly after 30 seconds had passed a large explosion occurs and completely destroys the supplies as well as the camp leaving nothing but blackened earth and scorched corpses. As the man continues his walk he quietly says to himself "I wonder if they would have given me a bonus if I brought a prisoner" he shrugs after a moment of thought and begins a rather carefree whistle.
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"Sometimes there are things in this world that just shouldn't exist. I happen to be one of those" Chapter 0- Historical Records of the Lost (All events recorded this chapter are purely speculation, as this is the result of years of research with no firsthand knowledge) Since as far as we can remember, there have always been 2 types of Miqo'tes, Sun and Moon. As per ancient tradition, it is frowned upon for these two species to fall in love with one another. To give up tradition is to die, yet there are still some who refuse to fold. Today I, Folulu Folu, will unveil the secrets behind a curious clan known to select few, -Our Aegis- The clan started 22 years ago, when a young Miqo'te couple lost their homes. Solarius (Original Name- Unknown) and Lunathia (Original Name- Unknown) had recently been disowned from each of their clans, for foolishly attempting to have their love recognized. Seeking a new home, they found it upon themselves to build their own land to be free from the harsh reality that maybe nobody could accept them. Almost a year later the word had spread to other Miqo'te who had been exiled from their own lands, and with a growing population of 16 Lunathia gave birth to child. Having no ties left to their original names, they officially changed their names to what they are now as a show they will throw away their past and pride to lead the other Aegis towards the future they all desired, and as such came up with a new naming scheme for their new child, -Flow Soluna-. (As told by one of the residents, it seems that last names were crafted using a combination of the parents names that had no traditional _'____ and the like, while the first names were based off of things found in nature, perhaps to show that it was still their home despite it all) 3 years later, and the clan has reached a new high for most Miqo'te, a booming 35 population with a mix of both Sun and Moon, as well as a few new children. On this year during the Second Umbral Moon; 21st sun, their 2nd daughter was born. -Leaf Soluna-. Nobody knows much about either, except that they brought great pride to the cats of Aegis. As celebration on the eldest's 10th birthday, both their daughters received gold face-paint; a symbol of their duty to be a shield for their people in time. As of only 8 moons ago, their climb had finally been halted. Peak population recorded: 89. Today was the day that Flow Soluna would be crowned as leader of -Our Aegis-, but it seems fate had something else in mind. During the ceremony, both leaders had been found dead and mass hysteria broke out, causing Suns and Moons to break apart and kill each other. Loves shattered, families broken, the reported survivors of the casualty came down to 6 discovered alive, 2 unknown. Our leads end here, but so many questions remain. Who toppled -Our Aegis-, Where are the daughters of Solarius and Lunathia, and finally, How come none of the world heard of this. (End of log. After pasting this in her Diary, Leaf continues by writing) This paper has nothing helpful for me, a shame. Nobody needs to know of the Aegis cats or what became of them, so I guess it's a good thing to keep the only copy. Mother... Father... they told me to go look for big sis and bring her to the ceremony hall, but when I went to find her there was nothing left except a single note. That note is all I have left to go off of for leads, and that lead brings me to my journey today. I will visit churches around the land, and I will find my sister and the dastard who destroyed my home. (Leaf puts the small scrap of paper in her notebook before turning the page quickly, trying her best to ignore it.) Menphina Have Mercy Azeyma Have Mercy "Flow... Where are you..." Leaf begins her journey
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Where to begin? I have always told myself that I don't have a gift with words. I've been accused of being philosophical, that's true. It's possible that I am. These pages might well prove that out. And in the absence of any stacks of paperwork to occupy my mind with, they're what little is left to me in the cold air of this silent room. Not totally silent. I hear the crackle of wood in the fireplace, the rain on the eaves, and this charcoal pen as it scratches over paper. I hear my own breaths, and footsteps scraping the path outside. These ears are a boon and a curse, but hearing well doesn't make it easier to speak your mind, even to yourself. My name, if I believe the legacy of my departed parents, is Charlotte Schweizer. I am a miqo'te, a Keeper and a Seeker, a Garlean, and a Highlander. I am the product of free minds and freer bodies, of distrust in a system and a faith in love that crosses boundaries. I am a scholar, an artist, a craftswoman, a merchant, a sailor, a pilot, a warrior, and a woman of means. I am a body with scars, a sharp-bladed mind with a dull finish, a beautiful voice in a quiet soul. I am a heretic, a believer in fate but not Fate, and a traitor to those who believe in tradition. I am the walking dead. My story began in a time I cannot remember. The wound stole from me all memories of my childhood, and of the parents whose lives I absorbed through the letters in the bag I arrived with when the healers and chirurgeons took me into their care. I awoke, birthed into this world with the vision of a daytime star visible through my window. Its strength grew beside my own, and when it was well and heavy in the sky, I took to the fields of Carteneau to tend to the wounded with my saviors. Their bodies were heavy in the rain of ash that followed the battle. The story that follows is but tragedy heaped on tragedy. So it is strange that I feel nothing, even as I scrawl these words. My saviors dead, my parents' graves resting as a testament to those lost. People I never knew, but who birthed me into this world. People whose hearts were with me until those hearts stopped. People I didn't, at the time, know existed. How strange to mourn, and yet be unable to mourn. My own history, committed to my own pages. This is the life that matters, history or none. I once was asked if I missed who I was. I told them that I could not remember, and if I couldn't remember, what benefit would there be in yearning for the passing of a life that wasn't mine? I am her ancestor. I am not her. This has become more like flowery prose than I had intended. Another habit of mine. Perhaps this is enough for now. I'll have to thank Alicia for her advice. Committing this to paper helped immensely. I might also ask her opinion of being so wordy. -x
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Thunder drummed in the skies on what was meant to be such a sombre and calm day as snow fell gently but now rushed as the four winds of Eorzea threw about the fragile droplets of water, a cry could be heard from beyond the veil that could only be described as a Daemon from the Seventh Hell rushing to take its wrath on the surface. Light brewed in the deep dark crags of this snowy fixture as the raw power of electricity spat from what was called in hushed whispers as the "Void". It began with one single spark of a brilliant purple, soon transformed into something willed with dread with the purity of its light fading into a mockery of its recognisable form. Another shout howled beyond the lightning that now opened up the deep crag for space and in that instance, dread begot life, mist pooled from an opening of the impossibly deep and dark, a hand frail and bony dug hard onto the warm grounds, blessed or malformed by the lightning, it still provided heat enough for the entry into this new world. A body followed as the agonising torture of what could be seen as a man, dragged his frail form out of the inky blackness and onto the Levi-touched ground. A blur was all that was known to him, huffing with moans of despair as the man attempted to garner a look at his surroundings and more so, frightened for his own safety for what he saw in that dark abyss would haunt him but also offer him the fearlessness, for what could be more terrifying than looking into the Darkness, and seeing it stare straight back at you? The cold swept in now as the unholy birth of this man dwindled from fantasy to reality, clearly something out of a book or fable passed down by generations as none could ever believe lest they see for themselves. More huffing whilst the frail physique of this stranger steadily brought himself to bare on both feet and hugged the wall for a sense of strength, the firm, solid frame left a small comfort for what he had witnessed, blessed was the natural laws that governed this plain of existence and something he welcomed, even with bated breath with the realization of this achievement, or rather, this abnormality, one thing was for sure, he was stranded. Wolves cried for the hunt at the back of the Elezen's mind, his thoughts collapsing into each other whilst he reasoned with his own logic on a solution to his predicament, shock had yet to settle on him and the following process of disbelief and anger to follow, little did he know that this process however will be satisfied when he had gotten to the surface and away from the deep, darkness of his traversal. The cold held no sway over when it came to sensations, a mild numbness kept hold, even after the slaughter of the hunters which thought him prey. His naked exterior attempted to navigate these frozen wastes but surely a man now splashed with warm crimson fluid from his earlier kill would be frowned upon at the sight, a hunger grew within him however, unnatural was this desire to feed and not the mundane appetite of the working man's meals would satiate this hunger for not only sustenance but something he would learn to refer to as... Aether. He gulped down his desires and pressed onwards over rolling hills, finding that the lack of clothing within this biome of winter and freeze would have killed the average mortal in mere minutes, something protected him perhaps? Or was something changed during his... Travel within the inky nothingness, it mattered little for the moment as he mastered his momentum in the snow until finally. Awe inspiring spires reached up towards the Heavens in defiance and blasphemy, "To try and reach the home of Gods by the hands of man." Was what came to mind as his deep blue eyes set upon the sights of Ishgard, the city limits were a sight for sore eyes as the scale kin had dealt damaging blows over the millennia to its grand structures and outer walls. He breathed in the freezing air but only felt illation at this sight city and its marvel, still his hunger buried deep within his very being and whilst the man made his way towards the outpost just outside the city, he knew this world would suffer for his very existence. Yet still he smiled....
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Day 738 I have returned to Gridania. I never thought I would after all these years. My parting with father did not end well, but part of me wishes to see how he is doing. Acquisition of my high risk materials has come at a slower pace due to quite a number of law changes in Limsa. A shame, but I will make do. In the interim I have found a place where I can do my research in peace. I shan't list it here in fear of what may happen, but needless to say, it has much of what I need. For now, I resign myself to gathering information on what has changed in the years I have been gone. I shall start at the Caroline Canopy. Mother Miounne has her ear to the ground, and I am certain I can gain some useful information. Now where to get my hands on some back eels for her famous pies ...
