24th day of the Sixth Umbral Moon
I have completed the full ride out of Ul'dah to the camp of the Brotherhood of Ash and presented myself to their chieftan, an immense Amalj'aa warrior named Hamujj Gah. The camp the Ash have made is spartan at best, but considering the history of the beast tribe it remains fitting--the Amalj'aa normally seek glory through matched, honorable combat, and the mere thought of the Amalj'aa as I have known them brings very visible--and audible--disgust from him. I can't help but believe that the level of his disgust is perhaps a bit overblown in order to show good faith to the adventurers who otherwise would have drawn arms against his clan without even a question...but the story he tells is compelling.
The excitement about the camp is compelling, too--small war bands of adventurers and Amalj'aa alike rush in and out of camp, striking swiftly at areas of Zahar'ak and riding away as fast as they had arrived. Some outfitters are there, an armorer and smith...and naught much else. It's small, mobile, practical in its execution, but no less a bustling outpost than anything else in Eorzea.
My own mistrust of these beastmen is matched by theirs of me, as jaws tighten and weapons firm against hips and scabbards, as if a simple wrong blink of the eye would shatter the tension in a clangor of pitched fighting. Still, these Amalj'aa have welcomed all, and their roars of triumph at each small victory against Zahar'ak is earnest and heartfelt. These are truly a tribe that lives with their hearts on their sleeve.
One adventurer in particular has shown even less trust of those milling about camp than any other--a Miqo'te who fights as fiercely as her tongue. While her battle fervor is not unique to her race, everything else about her is amplified to levels bordering obscenity. She rides to battle on the back of a Drake. She wears a mask that hides her features entirely, and the armor she wears--if armor it can be called--allows very little to the imagination of her figure...though those who would stare upon her curves would be met with their eyes sliced to jelly by her swift sword.
Her fur bristles with literally every adventurer who walks by her. She speaks very little, but her mask cannot shield her scorn for what she must clearly take to be invaders of her turf. I will have to keep far away from her if I'm to see this journey through.
The next few days will see me working the outer areas of Zahar'ak. Battle plans are being drawn out, but with very little military affair--more often than not, they consist little of pointing at an area, slaughter or destruction of structures and rushing back to camp. The Brotherhood lack numbers even with the new corps of adventurers to swell their ranks, and they plan accordingly, sending small parties in and out at random to keep the heretic Amalj'aa on their toes and barely able to breathe.
I will see how solid their resolve is against their own kind, and whether this path of peace on a blade's length holds true
I have completed the full ride out of Ul'dah to the camp of the Brotherhood of Ash and presented myself to their chieftan, an immense Amalj'aa warrior named Hamujj Gah. The camp the Ash have made is spartan at best, but considering the history of the beast tribe it remains fitting--the Amalj'aa normally seek glory through matched, honorable combat, and the mere thought of the Amalj'aa as I have known them brings very visible--and audible--disgust from him. I can't help but believe that the level of his disgust is perhaps a bit overblown in order to show good faith to the adventurers who otherwise would have drawn arms against his clan without even a question...but the story he tells is compelling.
The excitement about the camp is compelling, too--small war bands of adventurers and Amalj'aa alike rush in and out of camp, striking swiftly at areas of Zahar'ak and riding away as fast as they had arrived. Some outfitters are there, an armorer and smith...and naught much else. It's small, mobile, practical in its execution, but no less a bustling outpost than anything else in Eorzea.
My own mistrust of these beastmen is matched by theirs of me, as jaws tighten and weapons firm against hips and scabbards, as if a simple wrong blink of the eye would shatter the tension in a clangor of pitched fighting. Still, these Amalj'aa have welcomed all, and their roars of triumph at each small victory against Zahar'ak is earnest and heartfelt. These are truly a tribe that lives with their hearts on their sleeve.
One adventurer in particular has shown even less trust of those milling about camp than any other--a Miqo'te who fights as fiercely as her tongue. While her battle fervor is not unique to her race, everything else about her is amplified to levels bordering obscenity. She rides to battle on the back of a Drake. She wears a mask that hides her features entirely, and the armor she wears--if armor it can be called--allows very little to the imagination of her figure...though those who would stare upon her curves would be met with their eyes sliced to jelly by her swift sword.
Her fur bristles with literally every adventurer who walks by her. She speaks very little, but her mask cannot shield her scorn for what she must clearly take to be invaders of her turf. I will have to keep far away from her if I'm to see this journey through.
The next few days will see me working the outer areas of Zahar'ak. Battle plans are being drawn out, but with very little military affair--more often than not, they consist little of pointing at an area, slaughter or destruction of structures and rushing back to camp. The Brotherhood lack numbers even with the new corps of adventurers to swell their ranks, and they plan accordingly, sending small parties in and out at random to keep the heretic Amalj'aa on their toes and barely able to breathe.
I will see how solid their resolve is against their own kind, and whether this path of peace on a blade's length holds true
