Painted Shadows - Gross Misconceptions
Mist Ward 12 Division
Melphina shone over the Limsan coastline, reflecting off the lapping waves against the sandy shores of the Mist. A cloaked figure could be seen walking into Ward 12, her violent eyes shifting and taking in the immediate makeup of the ward. Her weapons were prominently displayed, marking her suspicious figure as an adventurer, or supposedly an adventurer. Thus, the Maelstrom guards only gave her a passing glance; another overly armed adventurer within a ward designated for such adventurers.
Glancing about, her eyes slide to the left. A small cottage appeared before her vision, briefly obscure by the nearby pillars of the entrance. She turned and walked with purpose, and jumped over the fence into the foliage. The guards paid her no heed, adventurers have a known habit of jumping randomly and venturing into pointless places; this was typical behavior and the figure counted on their lazy stereotyping to move into position.
After gathering information throughout Limsa, she identified the specific house, and after observing the house for a few suns, chose a time when both the mage and Xaela would be gone from the house. She paused briefly as she recalled the name spoken of in her contacts… could it really be her? The Xaela appeared similar, shockingly similar, her heart bled, while her mind continue to reject the possibility. Nevertheless… She shook her head… there was only one way to find out.
The moonlight reflected off the figure’s briefly exposed hood, and a female Xaela’s face was exposed, for a moment. The woman check her surroundings, and with a push, softly landed on top of the chocobo stables. There was a soft sleepy kweh and neighing from the animals below, but otherwise, little movement. With a brief incarnation, and a clear glamour prism, her appearance blurred and shifted into a clear invisible aetheric shell. Looking down at the grass, she reached into her pouch and took out a small sack.
Preliminary Report: The house was registered under a Zanzan Yanzan, a mixed-blood lalafell of dubious repute. Opinion of Black Market Contact “I’ve never seen someone so universally optimistic, especially a thaumaturge!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: He must be possessed by a voidsent!]
Reaching in, she tossed the thin powder into the air; as it settled down, aetheric lines appeared on the grass, signifying the presence of motion-wards. Noting the position of the wards, she proceed to deftly land in front of the stable, while still shrouded with obscuring magicks. Keeping her scent from the stables, she avoided a roaming tripline of the lawn’s wards and silently moved to a nearby window face behind the home’s well. Taking the same thin powder, she sprinkled the substance at the nearby window face. A complex array of wards appeared before her, the owner of this house appears to be a masterful mage.
Intoxicated Sea Wolf Chef at the Bismarck: “He is Bismarck incarnate. A hole by which all that we made beautiful, he devours. No chef in Limsa dares to create, for he surely will being forth ruin and calamity upon us all! UPON US ALL!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: He’ll must needs to devour much food stuffs as a substitute for aether; a voidsent for sure!]
However, compared to the defenses of her master’s keep and the Ossuary, this was a minor inconvenience. Nevertheless, caution is needed; she took out a silverly knife, its’ edge vibrated with the aetheric frequency of the nearby ward. She studied the ward protecting the window, and ducked as a alarm line passed over her; the ward was surprisingly complex for the work of a average thaumaturge. Recalling the material she read in the Order of Nald’thal’s archives, she looked for the aetheric seals of the ward on the window and lightly thrust her mage-slayer knives into them.
The aetheric vibrations of the knifes shuddered briefly against the seals, but did not set off the ward’s defenses or alarums. She ducked as another aetheric line crossed above her, before completing her work on the seals. Surprisingly the ward broke apart. She froze, but after sensing no further changes in the home’s defense systems, re-examined the window. After removing the rest of the window’s defenses, opened it slowly. Whatever alarums existed were negated by her equipment and skills, and the woman found herself inside the house, still shrouded by obscuring magicks.
Raving individual with unintelligible poster in Hawker’s Alley: “No real adherent of Nald’thal would be so universally cheerful, it must be some insidious plot to ensnare our gil! They say he tells stories to ensnare the hearts of naughty children and he leads them home to devour their souls or use them for black experiments!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: He kidnaps children and uses them for his black magic! A voidsent seeking to reopen a voidgate!]
The inside of the house was surprisingly well-decorated. A fish tank could be seen bubbling by the kitchen; perhaps a holding tank for fresh fish, given Eorzea’s primitive refrigeration technology. It appears that the owner has Starlight decorations up already, she was still unfamiliar with the notions of Starlight; however, it appears to be a response to the yearly snowfall that strangely only fell on the city-states proper.
As she drifted over to the kitchen, she noted the wide array of instruments. Peeking into a storage unit, she beheld tons of food. Was the owner of the house stockpiling supplies? Or perhaps, stockpiling ingredients for illegal rituals!? Mayhap there was a secret chamber full of slaves in this house that the owner kept to feed his control over her… nay, mayhap she was thinking too much.
She moved on to the living room proper, as she scanned the room for suspicious objects, something caught her eye. Moving over to the sofa, and after checking the sofa for traps and wards, she flipped over a cushion. Under it… was the sappiest love poem she had ever had the misfortune of witnessing; however, it bore the name of the Xaela.... And the one from her memories…. ‘Qaratai’ she spoke softly as she involuntarily shuddered. Her eyes teared slighty, she lowered the cushion; however, another piece of paper under the nearby couch caught her eye… it was another poem. She checked carefully throughout the room, there was another, and another, and ANOTHER!
Crying child in Pearl Lane: “He froze my daddy. Daddy was only doing his job. But he froze my daddy! He lost his fingers. He got thrown in jail. The Blades took all our gil. Mommy left us. It’s all that crying lalafell’s fault! Daddy wasn’t a thug! He was a good daddy!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: Zanzan is truly the lowest of the low! How dare he attack honest goodly men doing their jobs! A insidious voidsent for sure!]
As she shifted through the room, sadness twisted into horror that built within her supposedly well-trained mind. The number of obsessive love poems and statements increased. She found them everywhere, the surest sign of a depraved obsessive mind. She recalled the true owner of the house, a lalafell named Zanzan; supposedly a thaumaturge of some repute, whom rumors accuse of participating in black magic. This would explain the uncommonly complex wards surrounding the house, most likely created to keep Qaratai trapped inside while the sinister Zanzan is at rest.
Glancing downstairs, she descended with ample caution. The wards were sparse on the way down, mayhap the lalafell believed his dominion to be absolute here. She’ve seen his like before amid the spires of Ul’dah and among the people that her master associates herself with. At the bottom of the basement, she glanced around the room, a quick assessment highlighted a library, mayhap a bathroom and a door leaving towards what she presumed to be a bedroom.
The bedroom, the location by which the beast slumbers with his prey. After casing the door for alarums, she carefully opened it. Within she spotted a large bed, as well as a armoire and cabinets. She entered the room, a familiar scent caught her nose and her eyes involuntarily welled up. Her horns tingled and she felt herself moving towards a particular place in the room. As she opened the compartment, memories come rushing back…
A tall gallant figure riding towards the village with dawn rising behind her. The clothes were almost the same as those in her memories, or at the very least they were of similar designs. She cautiously touched the clothes and a fragment of a tear dropped down, staining the weathered fabric. She blinked and silently reprimanded herself. However, she reached down and took a piece of the gear; it appears worn and unused. Mayhap the lalafell forbid Qara from wearing the clothes of her birth, the little scourge.
Looking around once more, she took a piece of the clothes and placed it in her pouch. Since Zanzan had his claws on Qaratai, there was surely no way he would notice a missing piece of the clothing worn by ’savages’. This was mayhap typical perspective of the children of the Xaela by lalafells, especially those who delve in the dark arts, as her Master and her compatriots in the Order of Nald’thal. Mayhap she may be able to free Qara from the dastardly Zanzan’s black arts by using items related to her, if she recalled her Master’s lectures.
She carefully closed the compartments that she opened and moved back into the basement foyer, and turned to the library. Many of the books around the basement displayed knowledge of the void; as she carefully shifted through them, her alarm grew. The obviously-malicious Zanzan was most likely a void mage of considerable power, this may create implications for her master and the Order of Nald’thal. Never before, even amid her service with Garlemeld, with her Master and the Order of Nald’thal has she seen such insidious EVIL.
Xaela refugee near Fisherman’s Pier: “I’ve seen that lalafell walking around with that warrior. It is a travesty, what does she see in such a tiny person? He has no scales and no tail! He must be keeping the warrior under a wicked Eorzean curse!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: Zanzan truly is a wicked voidsent! Why else would Qaratai follow such a tiny and surely suspicious individual!]
Suddenly her horns vibrated and her tail stood up, she reached for her daggers, but it was too late. As she turned around she be held a soft white, red rimmed belly launching from the top of the library bookshelf onto her face. She unintentionally squealed in surprise and flailed about the small library, perhaps knocking books off their shelves as the red-orange fuzzy thing latched and hugged her face like a remorseless koala to a innocent eucalyptus tree.
In a rare panic, she Shukuchi to the stairs (which dislodged the furry entity) and rushed upwards and out the window, the wind of her retreat and habits as a infiltrator closing the window behind her. What attacked her was surely a voidsent, summoned by Zanzan Yanzan, the Dark One, through a bloody ritual of sacrifices. As she merged back with the crowd of the Mist, she shuddered at the evils occurring in that house, and the wicked being that ensnarled her Big-Sis.
“I’ll save you from that diminutive monster and his devouring clutches,†she whispered under her breath. “I’ll save you, Big Sis Qaratai!â€
Mist Ward 12 Division
Melphina shone over the Limsan coastline, reflecting off the lapping waves against the sandy shores of the Mist. A cloaked figure could be seen walking into Ward 12, her violent eyes shifting and taking in the immediate makeup of the ward. Her weapons were prominently displayed, marking her suspicious figure as an adventurer, or supposedly an adventurer. Thus, the Maelstrom guards only gave her a passing glance; another overly armed adventurer within a ward designated for such adventurers.
Glancing about, her eyes slide to the left. A small cottage appeared before her vision, briefly obscure by the nearby pillars of the entrance. She turned and walked with purpose, and jumped over the fence into the foliage. The guards paid her no heed, adventurers have a known habit of jumping randomly and venturing into pointless places; this was typical behavior and the figure counted on their lazy stereotyping to move into position.
After gathering information throughout Limsa, she identified the specific house, and after observing the house for a few suns, chose a time when both the mage and Xaela would be gone from the house. She paused briefly as she recalled the name spoken of in her contacts… could it really be her? The Xaela appeared similar, shockingly similar, her heart bled, while her mind continue to reject the possibility. Nevertheless… She shook her head… there was only one way to find out.
The moonlight reflected off the figure’s briefly exposed hood, and a female Xaela’s face was exposed, for a moment. The woman check her surroundings, and with a push, softly landed on top of the chocobo stables. There was a soft sleepy kweh and neighing from the animals below, but otherwise, little movement. With a brief incarnation, and a clear glamour prism, her appearance blurred and shifted into a clear invisible aetheric shell. Looking down at the grass, she reached into her pouch and took out a small sack.
Preliminary Report: The house was registered under a Zanzan Yanzan, a mixed-blood lalafell of dubious repute. Opinion of Black Market Contact “I’ve never seen someone so universally optimistic, especially a thaumaturge!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: He must be possessed by a voidsent!]
Reaching in, she tossed the thin powder into the air; as it settled down, aetheric lines appeared on the grass, signifying the presence of motion-wards. Noting the position of the wards, she proceed to deftly land in front of the stable, while still shrouded with obscuring magicks. Keeping her scent from the stables, she avoided a roaming tripline of the lawn’s wards and silently moved to a nearby window face behind the home’s well. Taking the same thin powder, she sprinkled the substance at the nearby window face. A complex array of wards appeared before her, the owner of this house appears to be a masterful mage.
Intoxicated Sea Wolf Chef at the Bismarck: “He is Bismarck incarnate. A hole by which all that we made beautiful, he devours. No chef in Limsa dares to create, for he surely will being forth ruin and calamity upon us all! UPON US ALL!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: He’ll must needs to devour much food stuffs as a substitute for aether; a voidsent for sure!]
However, compared to the defenses of her master’s keep and the Ossuary, this was a minor inconvenience. Nevertheless, caution is needed; she took out a silverly knife, its’ edge vibrated with the aetheric frequency of the nearby ward. She studied the ward protecting the window, and ducked as a alarm line passed over her; the ward was surprisingly complex for the work of a average thaumaturge. Recalling the material she read in the Order of Nald’thal’s archives, she looked for the aetheric seals of the ward on the window and lightly thrust her mage-slayer knives into them.
The aetheric vibrations of the knifes shuddered briefly against the seals, but did not set off the ward’s defenses or alarums. She ducked as another aetheric line crossed above her, before completing her work on the seals. Surprisingly the ward broke apart. She froze, but after sensing no further changes in the home’s defense systems, re-examined the window. After removing the rest of the window’s defenses, opened it slowly. Whatever alarums existed were negated by her equipment and skills, and the woman found herself inside the house, still shrouded by obscuring magicks.
Raving individual with unintelligible poster in Hawker’s Alley: “No real adherent of Nald’thal would be so universally cheerful, it must be some insidious plot to ensnare our gil! They say he tells stories to ensnare the hearts of naughty children and he leads them home to devour their souls or use them for black experiments!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: He kidnaps children and uses them for his black magic! A voidsent seeking to reopen a voidgate!]
The inside of the house was surprisingly well-decorated. A fish tank could be seen bubbling by the kitchen; perhaps a holding tank for fresh fish, given Eorzea’s primitive refrigeration technology. It appears that the owner has Starlight decorations up already, she was still unfamiliar with the notions of Starlight; however, it appears to be a response to the yearly snowfall that strangely only fell on the city-states proper.
As she drifted over to the kitchen, she noted the wide array of instruments. Peeking into a storage unit, she beheld tons of food. Was the owner of the house stockpiling supplies? Or perhaps, stockpiling ingredients for illegal rituals!? Mayhap there was a secret chamber full of slaves in this house that the owner kept to feed his control over her… nay, mayhap she was thinking too much.
She moved on to the living room proper, as she scanned the room for suspicious objects, something caught her eye. Moving over to the sofa, and after checking the sofa for traps and wards, she flipped over a cushion. Under it… was the sappiest love poem she had ever had the misfortune of witnessing; however, it bore the name of the Xaela.... And the one from her memories…. ‘Qaratai’ she spoke softly as she involuntarily shuddered. Her eyes teared slighty, she lowered the cushion; however, another piece of paper under the nearby couch caught her eye… it was another poem. She checked carefully throughout the room, there was another, and another, and ANOTHER!
Crying child in Pearl Lane: “He froze my daddy. Daddy was only doing his job. But he froze my daddy! He lost his fingers. He got thrown in jail. The Blades took all our gil. Mommy left us. It’s all that crying lalafell’s fault! Daddy wasn’t a thug! He was a good daddy!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: Zanzan is truly the lowest of the low! How dare he attack honest goodly men doing their jobs! A insidious voidsent for sure!]
As she shifted through the room, sadness twisted into horror that built within her supposedly well-trained mind. The number of obsessive love poems and statements increased. She found them everywhere, the surest sign of a depraved obsessive mind. She recalled the true owner of the house, a lalafell named Zanzan; supposedly a thaumaturge of some repute, whom rumors accuse of participating in black magic. This would explain the uncommonly complex wards surrounding the house, most likely created to keep Qaratai trapped inside while the sinister Zanzan is at rest.
Glancing downstairs, she descended with ample caution. The wards were sparse on the way down, mayhap the lalafell believed his dominion to be absolute here. She’ve seen his like before amid the spires of Ul’dah and among the people that her master associates herself with. At the bottom of the basement, she glanced around the room, a quick assessment highlighted a library, mayhap a bathroom and a door leaving towards what she presumed to be a bedroom.
The bedroom, the location by which the beast slumbers with his prey. After casing the door for alarums, she carefully opened it. Within she spotted a large bed, as well as a armoire and cabinets. She entered the room, a familiar scent caught her nose and her eyes involuntarily welled up. Her horns tingled and she felt herself moving towards a particular place in the room. As she opened the compartment, memories come rushing back…
A tall gallant figure riding towards the village with dawn rising behind her. The clothes were almost the same as those in her memories, or at the very least they were of similar designs. She cautiously touched the clothes and a fragment of a tear dropped down, staining the weathered fabric. She blinked and silently reprimanded herself. However, she reached down and took a piece of the gear; it appears worn and unused. Mayhap the lalafell forbid Qara from wearing the clothes of her birth, the little scourge.
Looking around once more, she took a piece of the clothes and placed it in her pouch. Since Zanzan had his claws on Qaratai, there was surely no way he would notice a missing piece of the clothing worn by ’savages’. This was mayhap typical perspective of the children of the Xaela by lalafells, especially those who delve in the dark arts, as her Master and her compatriots in the Order of Nald’thal. Mayhap she may be able to free Qara from the dastardly Zanzan’s black arts by using items related to her, if she recalled her Master’s lectures.
She carefully closed the compartments that she opened and moved back into the basement foyer, and turned to the library. Many of the books around the basement displayed knowledge of the void; as she carefully shifted through them, her alarm grew. The obviously-malicious Zanzan was most likely a void mage of considerable power, this may create implications for her master and the Order of Nald’thal. Never before, even amid her service with Garlemeld, with her Master and the Order of Nald’thal has she seen such insidious EVIL.
Xaela refugee near Fisherman’s Pier: “I’ve seen that lalafell walking around with that warrior. It is a travesty, what does she see in such a tiny person? He has no scales and no tail! He must be keeping the warrior under a wicked Eorzean curse!†[Chakha’s Interpretation: Zanzan truly is a wicked voidsent! Why else would Qaratai follow such a tiny and surely suspicious individual!]
Suddenly her horns vibrated and her tail stood up, she reached for her daggers, but it was too late. As she turned around she be held a soft white, red rimmed belly launching from the top of the library bookshelf onto her face. She unintentionally squealed in surprise and flailed about the small library, perhaps knocking books off their shelves as the red-orange fuzzy thing latched and hugged her face like a remorseless koala to a innocent eucalyptus tree.
In a rare panic, she Shukuchi to the stairs (which dislodged the furry entity) and rushed upwards and out the window, the wind of her retreat and habits as a infiltrator closing the window behind her. What attacked her was surely a voidsent, summoned by Zanzan Yanzan, the Dark One, through a bloody ritual of sacrifices. As she merged back with the crowd of the Mist, she shuddered at the evils occurring in that house, and the wicked being that ensnarled her Big-Sis.
“I’ll save you from that diminutive monster and his devouring clutches,†she whispered under her breath. “I’ll save you, Big Sis Qaratai!â€
