What if...

[Erik Mynhier]

((Hello and welcome to "What If". As many of you must realize, as roleplayers we maintain highly developed characters, characters as influenced by the chain of events of our intersecting RPs as they are our own imaginations. This history is the highlight of the act of roleplaying, but also its limit. As our characters all interact with eachother, and effect eachother's characters, it is impossible to completely change a character's history. Now you can. A little idea cooked up by me and another who I will let name herself if she wants, in this thread you may change any part of your character's make up and past, as if you changes their past. What if Erik never came to Ul'dah would be an example of what I mean. Or what if Erik was a cleric instead of a knight. Any of those would be an interesting read. So come on, get creative and post a little something. I will myself when I get out of work. Oh... rules.

 

1. This thread is completely off the record. Think of it as an alternate timeline. No changes here effect anyone or anything.

 

2. You may only "what if" your own character. By all means npc some others if need be, premission may be needed, but only do them about you. These aren't fanfics people.

 

3. One post per alternate scenario. Make it long if you like, but only one.

 

4. Be creative, don't be shy or afraid, this thread is for fun and has zero consequences.

 

Now post!))

[Erik Mynhier]

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((Mood music is always good no?))

 

What if?..... Erik never left the Shroud.[/align]

 

The summer sun shone down its rays upon the East Shroud. High to the north, on the road from Hawthrone Hut to the Sanctum of the Twelve walked a man. A great highlander of a man, his hair tied back, his robes simple, an emblem of three spears over his right breast. As he approached the settlement several of the children playing near the gate run to meet him. He was a simple but well loved man. As he patted the children on the head he entered the gate to Hawthorne, "Good morning Father." spoke the guard. Erik smiled and nodded to the young man, "And to you."

 

He made his way to the settlement's junkmonger, the Sanctum needed flour, wax, salt, and nameless other things. In fact he would need a wagon he was sure, the porter would help he was sure. He had been a fixture at the Sanctum for the better part of seventeen years now, there were few in Hawthorne that had not been blessed by the Priest of Halone at least once. His life had started so chaotic in the beginning, his and his mother's flight from Ala Mhigo, only to have her killed three years after. His friend Cian had tried to talk him into going to Ul'dah with him after that, but he selected a different path, the Coerthas, the Path of the Fury. He sometimes felt as though something of this peaceful and perfect life was off. Times like these.

 

"Father!" yelled a woman, Jenna he seemed to remember. "What is it?" She caught her breath, "Have you..... have you heard?" Erik placed his hand on her shoulder, "Heard what?" The woman looked at him and shouted out, "Ul'dah! There are reports.... There was an explosion!" Erik looked down to pray, "This now again. When will these attacks end?" Some others gathered to hear and add to the conversation. Erik lead them all in prayer then returned to his task. It was unfortunate, there had been many attacks on the Jewel of the Desert of late.

 

As he approached the porter, the store hand helping him carry his purchases . A few minutes he was on the road. As he road he saw out the corner of his eye a woman, a Miqo'te, her hair was short and black as a raven. Her lance of a quality found in the hands of a craftsman. She seemed tired, hurt, and running from something. He slowed the wagon and called to her, "You there, girl. Do you need help?" She looked at him, fright is what he saw, and a strange collar. She almost bolted until he raised his hand, "Come now, let me at least help you where you are trying to go. I swear by the Twelve I am no enemy to you." She almost spoke, stopping as her hands grasped the collar, was that frustration? Slowly she relented and climbed into the back of the wagon. "I notice you do not seem to speak. How will we handle such a problem?" He thought on it a moment until replying, "I will take you to the Sanctum as you seem in need of sanctuary. From there you can make your way to where you need to go. Many travel there from as many places, surly one will be heading your way." She seemed to except this.... poor girl.

 

As the Sanctum rose in the distance he knew his trip to be over... what is that feeling? In the distance he hears something, something odd. He snaps the reins, quickening the bird's steps. As they moved toward the great temple, from above the road from a ledge, a runt of a Miqo'te leaps in front of the wagon striking the chocobo pulling it dead. The spear girl hops from the wagon, her lance steady as Erik steps down, "Who are you?" he asked the runt. The miqo'te noticed the priest ever so slightly, "I am sorry, killing your bird... so rude. I am sorry.... may I have that back Father?" he said pointing to the girl. Erik ignore's the steady lance, taking note of the girl's eyes, the fear. He wasn't sure why he stepped in front of her, not that it would do her any good. The runt noticed this, "Now you are the one being rude." he said as he raised his gunblade. Erik was not afraid, he had seen these weapons before, his faith told him he was safe. That faith was proven by the sound of an arrow. The high whistle as it screamed toward the runt. There to the right, fast approaching, more miqo'te. The runt was going to fight them all, poor boy. They clashed before him. As they fought the seemingly unstoppable runt he supported where he could, curing the girl and her friends here and there, "Life's refreshing breeze, blow in energy! Cure!" Though it was touch and go, the runt finally relented, disappearing into the forest. The group now circled the girl, there were smiles on their faces, a family? A clan maybe?. They said nothing as they left, only the girl stopped for a moment, looking back and waving, a smile on her face. Then like the others, she was gone.

 

He managed to get the wagon to the Sanctum, telling his brothers and sisters of his experience. They all listened as he spun the yarn of the strong little runt, the clan. Such a tale, he wondered why though. Why did he feel as though he was missing something. He shook his head, shaking the idea from his head. He sometimes felt as though something of this peaceful and perfect life was off. Times like these. He was sometimes right.

[Dogberry]

[align=center]What if... Dogberry was a better father?[/align]

 

The boy swung his practice sword at Dogberry's leg like a botanist chopping at a tree, but he could not bring him down.

 

"Good shot," Dogberry said. To the boy it seemed like he never felt pain. "But your blows are weak. Put your hip into it. Stop swinging at me, swing through me."

 

Dogberry stepped back and readied his spear at the boy. The boy put his guard up, shield in and to his chest, sword up and ready. They touched their weapons together as a sign of respect. Seeing the boy like this made Dogberry swell up with pride. Quickly he struck at the outside edge of the boy's shield, and the shield opened outward like a barn door. With a slight movement of Dogberry's hands, the other end of the spear came quickly toward the boy, but was parried away by his sword. The boy took the opportunity to close with Dogberry, which forced him to choke up on his spear. The boy kicked at the spear, and Dogberry's left hand came loose from it. Before he could react, Dogberry found the edge of the boy's shield pressed against his right shoulder. He tried to swing at the boy, but was only connecting with his shield. The sword connected repeatedly with his right side and thigh, and the boy's forward momentum soon pushed Dogberry backward. He dropped the spear and flailed with his arm as he lost his balance and went town. He looked up at the boy, his own son, to find him pointing a sword at his face, smirking.

 

"Good!" Dogberry said, and the boy let down his guard. "You fought smart, that was excellent. But..." The boy groaned, but Dogberry talked over him. "BUT you need more strength training."

 

"Dad!" The boy protested. "That's like all I ever do!"

 

"Such hyperbole," Dogberry said. "I need you to go to the well and bring us four buckets of water. The Old Man is making a stew, so we need more than usual. Then I want you to go help him cut up some popotos, carrots and onions. Then you're free to do whatever the hells it is you during the day. And after dinner we're going to read." The boy shot him a look of complaint.

 

"More math..." The boy muttered.

 

"I was planning on reading you an adventure story, one about a mad captain on a quest for revenge against the sea itself," he said. "But if you'd prefer math..."

 

"No!" The boy shouted, and Dogberry laughed.

 

"Good," Dogberry said. "Now I think that's enough roughhousing for today, don't you think?"

 

"Yes, sir!" The boy nodded, still panting from the fight. "Tomorrow can I try archery?"

 

"Archery?" Dogberry looked perplexed. "I don't know much about archery. Why d'you wanna learn archery?"

 

"Nellemond said Roegadyn can't do archery," The boy said, sounding angry. "I want to prove him wrong."

 

"Then prove him wrong we will," Dogberry said. "I'll see if I can't get a friend of mine to help us. Now c'mon, Rhutshald, let's go home. I have to get back to the carpenter's guild." He put his hand on his son's shoulder and walked back toward Gridania. It wasn't Dogberry's favorite place in the world, but it was the perfect place to raise a child.

 

[video=youtube]

[Unnamed Mercenary]

What if Frhanz and the Unnamed Mercenary hadn’t had bad things happen?

 

 

“Why do you keep trying to talk to me?!” The large man looked at the Elezen that hadn’t stopped  talking for what seemed like a sun. They had first met at an inn, where the elezen had been staying. Now he was being bought out as the man’s bodyguard. And just how much could he have to talk about? It was neverending!

 

 

To make matters worse, he was some Scholar or something, and a master Alchemist, whatever that meant. It did mean stability though. Since Frhanz’s visit to Ul’dah, he had been helping Merc stay aetherically stable. Between being stalking by a faerie at every given morment and having to deal with all the chatter, Merc was at his wit’s ends. Why him? Why did it have to be Frhanz that could do this? It must have been a game. A sickeningly funny game to that white haired woman. It was still better than living on the streets looking for jobs, he supposed. Frhanz had what appeared to be endless amounts of gil, and had hired Merc to act as a bodyguard. It was at least a mutual benefit for the two of them.

 

 

-

 

 

Meanwhile to Frhanz, why /wouldn’t/ he want  to keep talking to the strange man? Among other things, he was quite clearly Garlean, if that actually mattered. The third eye had made it painfully obvious when they met. But that wasn’t exactly a concern. He’d fixed that up with a small glamour spell, which meant the Garlean didn’t have to hide his face in public. Not to mention how interesting the Garlean was. Praise the Twelve! A Garlean that had at least /some/ control of his aether. Well, perhaps control wasn’t exactly the best word for it. He was nonetheless a pure-blood Garlean with aether manipulation of some kind.

 

To make everything even more wonderful, he now had a bodyguard! Frhanz didn’t think he’d actually need one, but paying the man some petty gil to keep him company was absurdly easy. Of course, it might have been all the free meals, free drinks, and the free room and board that Frhanz had offered with the gil. Garlean or not, nobody deserved to be homeless. But he didn’t have the money to save everyone. A single man would do though. And what better of a way to study him than to gain his trust? He had memory loss, unstable aether, and some connection to Kage. Of course Frhanz would have a lot to talk about and would want to stay.

[Siha]

So I wrote a thing, it's sappy and blah, but it's a 'What If Siha died' kind of thing. I'm morbid sometimes. Ahem.

 

 

 

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It was dark, the dirt below her was gritty under her fingers at first but slowly things blurred, feelings softened. The dagger in her chest had hurt, she had fought so hard to keep it from getting there, but it had been faster than she. The breeze was cool on her skin, the roof surprisingly cold for the desert jewel, Ul’dah. Violet eyes roamed along the sky, it wasn’t black…more like dark blue, like the sea that she had sailed with her father once. The memories slipped through her mind like soothing water,

 

the first time she’d fished with him…fished…the first time she’d caught a shark with Hound. Hound whom had saved her from Askier with Kahn’a, whom she’d saved from himself when she’d sang him a Lullaby. Kahn’a, who had become like a brother to her, saving her from herself and her own bad luck. He’d hired Zac for her, the kind Hyur whom remained a mystery to her almost completely, but who she had come to trust to a fault.

 

All of them wonderful people, with wonderful memories but none so dear to her as…

 

A door crashed open above where she lay in the grit on the rooftop and the timber of his voice made her heart smile, but did it come to her face, she wasn’t sure. He’d called her name and now he was sliding to a halt next to her, pulling her into his arms, safe. He was safe. That was what mattered, he was saying something, she needed to pay attention and hear him but it was so hard. It would be easier to sleep. No. She couldn’t leave him without saying goodbye.

 

She wasn’t sure when she’d closed them but slowly her eyes opened to look up at the Hyur who was cradling her, his hand clasping hers as he pleaded with her to wake. She could see sadness on his face, were there tears?

 

Her voice was faint when she spoke, her hand curling weakly in his, “Erik…I knew you’d come…for me…” she could see him starting to speak but her hand raised to gently touch his cheek, it was warm and wet. He was crying. “Don’t cry, it doesn’t hurt…anymore” she comforted with a warm smile. He started to speak but she trailed her hand over to press weakly against his lips, “Please. I want to tell you…” she felt her breathing getting harder. She had to tell him. “I’m so glad, I got to meet you…I wish it could…have lasted a little longer…” the words broke as she could get breath for them.

 

It was cold, but warmth slipped down her cheeks, her own tears mingled with his. “The gods gave me so many flaws…but then they gave me…you. Because of you…I was able to live…you gave me the greatest gift in the world…a family…” He was speaking again and she smiled at him, eyes opening to meet those familiar orbs as her grip got weaker, her eyes weakly moving to try and see the faces that were gathering behind them but they blurred. There was only his face in focus, in color.

 

Her hand moved to wipe away his tears again, “I think I’d like to sleep…a while…if that’s ok…the wind up here is nice” she quieted almost completely. She felt like she was floating, memories ran before her eyes as they started to close, but she wouldn’t shut them just yet. “Sing me…to sleep…please…” it was the last thing she’d ask. Even if he didn’t sing she could hear singing and her eyes closed with a smile, a tear slipping down her cheek before she was gone.

 

[Erik Mynhier]

I had a reply, so I'll throw it up too.

 

 

((obvious musical choice is obvious))

[video=youtube]

 

His breathing was heavy, the clear sky no comfort tonight. He had only just realized. He could not lose another, he could not lose..... her, "Please let me make it." He took the stairs three at a bound, leading to the roof.... "Gods please." The door at the top was solid..... no splinters. He passed through it like running through glass, his stride and size to much to be stopped, "Almost there... hold on."

 

As he rushed through, the grit of the roof loosened by his thundering boots. His hands and and heart shaking...."SIHA!" He slid along the tiles, his armored knees grinding along the shingles as he stopped before her. He lifted her to his chest, "No, no, no, no! Siha, please no. Please do not leave me. Please...." He had not been able to keep her safe. He had failed her, like he failed everyone.

 

He looked down on her, the knife in her chest piercing his own heart. He brushed the hair from her eyes, "Please Love.... Please say anything." Slowly her eyes opened, all he could do, "Please wake up." He held her hands as she looked up at him, sleepy eyes, the aether was calling her, he knew what death looked like. He held tears in his eyes as he plead to any god listening to spare her, to take him. Surely death would jump at such a deal, having been cheated so often. He faked a smile... a small laugh as she opened her eyes on him fully, tears to present to try and hide, "Siha....."

 

Her voice was faint when she spoke, her hand curling weakly in his, “Erik…I knew you’d come…for me…” she could see him starting to speak but her hand raised to gently touch his cheek, it was warm and wet. He was crying. “Don’t cry, it doesn’t hurt…anymore” she comforted with a warm smile. He started to speak but she trailed her hand over to press weakly against his lips, “Please. I want to tell you…” she felt her breathing getting harder. She had to tell him. “I’m so glad, I got to meet you…I wish it could…have lasted a little longer…” the words broke as she could get breath for them.

 

It was cold, but warmth slipped down her cheeks, her own tears mingled with his. “The gods gave me so many flaws…but then they gave me…you. Because of you…I was able to live…you gave me the greatest gift in the world…a family…” He was speaking again and she smiled at him, eyes opening to meet those familiar orbs as her grip got weaker, her eyes weakly moving to try and see the faces that were gathering behind them but they blurred. There was only his face in focus, in color.

 

Her hand moved to wipe away his tears again, “I think I’d like to sleep…a while…if that’s ok…the wind up here is nice” she quieted almost completely. She felt like she was floating, memories ran before her eyes as they started to close, but she wouldn’t shut them just yet. “Sing me…to sleep…please…” it was the last thing she’d ask. Even if he didn’t sing she could hear singing and her eyes closed with a smile, a tear slipping down her cheek before she was gone.

 

He held her for a time, singing quietly the song they had shared, telling her that if she'd be his star, he would be her sky. He then held her closer, burying her face in his neck as he just knelt in the wind atop the roof. He wasn't sure if she was gone or not yet, he spoke though as if she were there. "I... I never meant to hurt you, to make you feel small or unwanted. I have for the longest time loved you. There was never a question of love. I am sorry I never told you.... I am sorry I was unable to protect you.... I am sorry." He didn't move, only holding her, tears mixing with her blood. Once he had settled he rested her on the roof and stood. Drawing his sword he let light catch the blade, and his weapon and armor vanished. He knelt before her again, bending to kiss her cold lips with the softest touch he could manage. He then took the blade from her chest, so gently, as if he was afraid it would cause her pain. He then laid next to her, looking up at the stars, he smiled. Erik looked at her now, she looked like she was asleep. He took ahold of her hand and looked back into the sky, the knife in the opposite hand, "You are right Siha.... the wind is nice. I... I think I am tired too." he smiled warmly as he closed his eyes, "Maybe we will dream the same dream...... I love you." The knife fell true.

 

[chaoticsleepy]

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Okay, I can't possibly pass this kind of prompt up. Decided I would write up something really quick. Didn't do any editing or revising or anything, so if it's kinda choppy and sloppy, that's why... And oh god, I totally didn't expect it to end up being so long. I also can't figure out for the life of me how to get Spoiler tags to work. Sorry! D:

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[align=center]

 

 

What if...  Xheja had never left her tribe to join the Twin Adders?

 

 

QfkqY2yGCW0

 

(I'm totally a sucker for mood music.)

 

 

- - - - - -

 

The Black Shroud, One Week After the Calamity..

 

 

 All in the forest was still that day, save for the quiet babbling of the nearby stream. Even when she strained to hear, the young miqo'te woman couldn't hear even the faintest chirp of a bird nor call of insect. Even the wind was calm, blowing so softly through the trees as to not rustle the leaves. It was as if the Shroud was yet in mourning for its fallen children.

 

Only a few days prior, all had not been so calm and quiet. That day still haunted the Keeper's dreams in explicit detail. They would for the rest of her life, that much she knew to be true. Explosions rocking the forest like nothing she had ever experienced before, debris and Hellfire raining down from the sky. Trees groaning and cracking from impact, just as sickening to the ear as if they were bone snapping. The forest's multitudinous creatures crying out in fear and agony as fire overtook their homes, thick black smoke clouding their eyes and choking their lungs. A dark shadow swooping down over the Shroud on fell black wings that blocked out the sky. The memories of that day would not leave her, no matter how hard she had tried to forget..

 

- - - - -

 

[align=left]Whispers that something was to happen had pierced even the heart of the wood as droves of Twin Adder troops passed through on their way to battle. On their way to Carteneau, she had heard them mention, though she knew not the details of what was to transpire there. She hadn't been sure that she wanted to know the details, to tell it true. It terrified her, deep down in her very being. The Garleans. Dalamud. The queer happenings all across Eorzea. It all boded ill.

 

She could recall only a few months prior when the Adders had come calling on their tribe, asking them to join forces to combat the growing threats. Several of their members had agreed. Even a few of their leaders had decided to join up with the grand company. She had not. A part of her, deep down, had wanted to enlist. Yet more than that, she had been afraid. Never before had she dared even think of leaving the safety of the Shroud. Even knowing that the wood was becoming much less secure daily, she just couldn't bring herself to leave in its defense. The miqo'te woman had felt shame for her cowardice then, and such shame she still felt now, tenfold, after all that had transpired.

 

Her eyes had been locked onto the swollen red moon with worry as the sun descended towards the horizon that day, a sickened feeling growing in her gut with each passing hour. She had to wonder, were her tribemates there on the plains of Carteneau that eve? Would she ever see them again? How many would fall upon the swords and spears of Imperial soldiers, never to return home to the forest? To never again witness the beauty of the morning sun breaking through the lofty canopy? To never feel the thrill of an arduous hunt? To never revel beneath the stars in the light of the moon to please Menphina?

 

All of her thoughts had ended sharply and suddenly the moment that she heard the first explosion, a sound so uniquely horrifying that it had been as if it had played in her head on repeat for days now in an unending loop. The moon had bust open, birthing forth a terrifying wyrm the likes of which she couldn't believe. Yet she had not scarce had time to gawp in awed and horrified silence before the running began.

 

Distant screams filled the air as the sky seemed to fall upon their remote village, panic and chaos enveloping the small Keeper tribe. It took only seconds for her to hop to her feet, running as hard as she could to her home from the small clearing she had been skywatching from. She had to get to her family. Come what may, coward or not, they were her everything. She would reach them, or she would die trying.

 

As she had reached the village, what she had found was the stuff of nightmares unimaginable. Homes destroyed, fire everywhere. A few who had been unfortunate enough to be close to the impact laid limp on the ground nearby. She was unsure whether they were knocked unconscious or if they had perished. She hadn't the time to check. Her family came first.

 

Her hurried steps brought her to her home, and instantly, a sinking feeling took her in its tight grasp. The small hut was burning, set ablaze in a Hellish inferno. Just as quickly as the fear had gripped her, it was gone. She started in a dead run towards her flaming home.

 

She had only made it halfway before someone caught her by the arm, clinging desperately and dearly to her. She struggled in their grasp, screaming in a thin, high-pitched voice. Cursing. Let me go! She could hear the voice trying to plead with her not to walk into the burning, collapsing death trap, and in the very back of her mind, she could sense the familiarity in it.

 

Only the sound of another massive piece of debris hitting the ground very close to them pulled her back from her panic-driven state, her head snapping around in the other woman's direction from whence the sound had come. And then, as if Althyk himself had caused time to slow to a crawl, the next few seconds seemed to last a veritable eternity.

 

The giant slab of stone had slammed into a tall tree not far from her home. In her mind, she could see flashes of memory. This was the tree amongst whose boughs she had once climbed as a child, laughing and playing with her brothers and sisters. Now, split in half, the once welcoming, almost protective figure of her childhood was bearing down on her like Byregot's hammer. All she could do was stand and stare in stunned silence, breathless.

 

She was shoved hard, catching her completely off-guard and sending her crashing off to the side. As she hit the ground, snapping back to reality, she had just enough time to look back towards the spot she had been standing in only seconds ago. She found the other miqo'te woman standing there, and it finally dawned on her just who it was. 

 

Her mouth opened to scream her name, to tell her to run. But it was too late. There was no escaping it now. She watched the woman throw up a hasty barrier in a last-moment effort to save herself. Yet the spell broke under its weight the instant the tree fell upon it, shattering like glass. Tears filled her eyes and her lungs burned with both smoke and her own choked screams, weakly trying to get to her feet to run to where the massive sentinel had fallen upon her. She had scarce made it to her feet before, attracted by the noise and screaming, another small band of fleeing tribemates had grabbed her and dragged her with them to escape their burning home.[/align]

 

 

- - - - -

 

The sudden loud croak of a bullfrog from the nearby stream pulled the woman out of her thoughts, watery eyes opening. She was shaking, just thinking about it. It felt as if her heart was stuck in her throat. She wanted to turn and walk back to the small encampment that her and the other survivors from the Calamity had settled in, not far from their battered and torn home. But that was the cowardice speaking, and she knew that there was something here that she must do.

 

Slowly, the Keeper woman stepped out into the clearing, fists clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists at her side as she steeled her nerves. Here, they had laid to rest their dead - if there had been anything left of them to bury at all. She hadn't yet stepped foot here, such was her shame, and it took her breath away to see just how many freshly-dug plots there were. Tears stung at her eyes as she walked through the quiet graveyard, reading the all-too-familiar names of those buried there etched into makeshift headstones. She would mourn them all in due time, of course. Yet first, there was one particular grave that she had best pay her respects to.

 

Finally, she stopped at one of the plots, sucking in a deep breath and slowly dropping down to one of her knees. Her hands reached out to brush the stone to which her name had been affixed, reading it over and over again with an ever growing sense of sadness and loss.

 

"I have not the words to thank you for saving me," She whispered quietly, her throat tight. A soft sob escaped her lips, her head hanging. "You did not have to sacrifice yourself for me. I am not worthy of being saved. I'm just.. just a coward."

 

Yet she knew that, had the woman been there, she would've assured her otherwise. That was the kind of person she had been, even since they were but children. Her savior had only been one year her elder, but she had looked up to her in many ways, for many years. She had been a bright child who had grown up into an equally bright and giving young woman, who had been set upon the path to leadership one day. She was warm and kind, and wise beyond her years. She was a skilled conjurer with a deep reverence for the Gods and Elementals both. She would've made an excellent Matriarch, if only she hadn't thrown herself into harm's way on her account.

 

"If only I had been brave.. If I had went to war with the others. You would not have been there, rescuing me from my own sudden bravery.. From my foolishness." Her voice was barely above a whisper, tears rolling over her cheeks and down the bridge of her nose to land in the loose dirt beneath her. "I swear, I will become brave.. Truly brave. For you and your memory."

 

Slowly, shakily, the woman pushed herself to her feet. She sniffled, raising an arm to wipe the wetness from her eyes, and straightened her posture. She looked down at the headstone one last time, giving it a resolute nod.

 

"I pray the goddess keep you, Xheja."

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[Val]

[align=center]4YrBHkJUf3A [/align]

 

 

 

 

 

[align=center]What if Val had lost Faye?[/align]

 

 

"Your services are no longer required."

 

The words echoed through his head like a nightmarish apparition. Whether several days, weeks, or months had passed since he'd heard them were unknown. The only thing that Val knew was that he couldn't get them out of his head. He of course managed to recall bits and pieces of the events before and after, but they were never something that he willingly did and they only came during the moments when his body was far too weary to carry on without rest.

 

He'd spent however long trying to rid his mind of the thoughts and sounds and smells and images of that which haunted him. He remembered every little detail of the moment, from the dress she wore to the tone of her voice and the sad look in her eyes as she turned to leave. He recalled the scent of her perfume, the way her skin felt as he tried to take her hand in order to stop her, and the way her voice broke when she openly denied him and told him to go. For the last time he did as she told, fighting back the tears in his eyes and taking the offered bag of gil for "services rendered," as she'd called it. Services rendered. Certainly it had been a service at first, but he'd long since thought his duties far transcended that. What of their love? Their marriage? What of the many times they'd held one another and the promises that they'd made to never let go? How could she teach him such things about life and then leave him on his own?

 

Val had tried to not think of these things. He instead returned to the bridge that he had practically lived under before she'd came to proposition him for his services. Part of him just knew that she'd soon find him in order to apologize and tell him how much she loved him. That's how things would always happen, right? It usually took no longer than a day or two, and he'd gladly take the time to gather his own thoughts and figure out what it was he did to drive her to such a decision. Much to his dismay, she never came. No matter. She was as stubborn as he was, so perhaps she was tired of coming to get him. Certainly this was just one of their many fights. That had to be it! After all, she'd always promised that she would never leave his side. Maybe this time she was waiting for him, instead. 

 

So he traveled back to their shared condo in Bronze Lake, a smile on his face and hope in his heart.  He thought it was strange the way that the keep looked at him when he asked for the key to their home, and even moreso when the keep insisted that no one was there. Truly afraid, Val rushed to their home and all but destroyed the door with a hard, charge of his shoulder. So panicked was he that he didn't realize the state of the place as he ran about calling for her, screaming her name at the top of his lungs in a manner not unlike that of a frightened child. It wasn't until after he checked all the rooms in the house that he noticed the home was empty. The furniture, her clothing, portraits, and little knicknacks that she'd placed around their shared abode were all gone. Suddenly the realization hit him like one of Berrod's powerful strikes to the chest: he was alone. Only her scent remained to keep him company, a rapidly fading remnant of the life he once had. 

 

It wouldn't take long for him to return to his previous way of life. He first entertained the desires of the many women that wanted him but had previously failed to pry him from his princess. Much to no one's surprise, they were quite irate when they failed to keep him to themselves as she had. When he'd had his fill of them or they grew tired of his unfaithful ways, whichever came first, he moved on to the brothels. He first spent his money on only the best he could buy. Perhaps they would help him forget or replace that gaping hole left in his life, even if for a moment. When not being entertained by the courtesans, he was often at the local bar drinking and starting fights. When the establishment grew tired of his disruptions they kicked him out.

 

This became the norm for him, moving from one place to the next in search of the next thing to keep his mind off of what he'd lost. When he grew bored of that or they grew tired of him, he moved on to something else. Eventually the Seeker ran out of money and could no longer afford such an extravagant lifestyle. The courtesans paid him less and less attention and the ownership of the various establishments tolerated him less and less. Soon, he was unable to afford the company of even the cheapest courtesans. Eventually the rest of his coinage soon disappeared and he was left to a life on the streets.

 

Perhaps that was for the best. Many days of near-starvation had given him a chance for clarity. His life had been in shambles ever since she'd left. It wasn't until he found her that he'd realized he was nothing without her, and even now it was proven to be true. What had happened to his life? To their life? What had he done to cause her to leave him so abruptly? Even after so long, after all the women and the booze and the fights, he could still remember her scent and taste her on his lips. He'd once recalled telling someone that he would drown the world if it meant making her smile or keeping her safe. If that were truly the case, what was he doing now? Groveling, sad and alone on the side of the street. 

 

It is often said that when one hits the bottom, they've nowhere else to go but up. Whether Val was going up or further digging himself a hole was unknown, but he knew what he had to do. Throughout his travels, in the back of his mind he'd always hoped to run into her, perhaps to have another chance. He'd always been afraid of finding her with another, some other guy that had managed to win her heart and steal her away from him. What if she was no longer in Eorzea at all? What if she had abandoned him in order to go elsewhere, somewhere she thought he would be better off without her? It wasn't as if she hadn't already tried it once before. Plagued by a million 'What Ifs' and with nothing left to lose, Val picked himself up and left the city. ..After all, he would never know the answer if he never tried.

 

The last sighting of the Miqo'te came from Gridania, noting a blonde-haired Seeker with a scar bisecting his right eye leaving toward the northern Shroud. Further inquiries say that he was seen crossing the border into Garlean territory. He was never heard from again.

[Erik Mynhier]

[align=center][video=youtube]

What if..... Erik's life turned out the way he deserves.[/align]

 

The modest house was in calm and warm. The old man sitting by the fire rests his eyes in the large plush chair. Something in the distance stirs him from his dreams, foot falls down the road. There was a time where he could have profile the person by the sounds of their steps, now he can barely hear them. He raises from his chair slowly, the crook by his chair his cane of choice. Moving to the engraved wooden door, he opened it and felt great joy. Visitors are rare treasures for the old. He smiled and waved to the women walking down the forest road. One was a midlander, golden hair like his once was, the other a keeper at first glance, though tall, light pink hair. Though one would not think it at first look, there was no denying that these two were sisters.

 

Returning to his chair he waited for what seemed like forever as they walked down the road to the cottage. Walking in the moved to the old man, both taking a side and giving him a hug, "How are you Papa?" said the Miqo'te. Followed behind by her older sister, "Yes dad, are you alright? That letter seemed... urgent." He smiled, distracted by them, their visits were rare, and only together at Starlight, such a treat, "Um? Oh I am alright. I was just wanting to see you both. Both looked at him suspiciously, Ross was the first to voice it though, "Dad, you never just do something for no reason." Ross was a wise woman, always seeking the truth, aware of so much more then most would think. As beautiful as her mother, she had grown into a success. Her sister was the same, Lenna had grown into a fighter, a leader, taking the reins of a famed military unit in Ul'dah, she was a force to be reckoned with, they both were. "Papa, you cannot get anything by us, now what's wrong?" He did not answer, standing slowly instead. Both women reached out and helped the man take his footing. It bothered them to see him this way, long ago their father had been a legend, one of the many heroes of Ul'dah from his time. He had fought in the Shadow Wars, the Void Conflict, even at the Liberation of Ala Mhigo. Now he stood a crumpled man, their hearts hurt to see him like that.

 

Slowly he walked to his study, an old feeling room. Paintings of old friends and events littered the wall. Ross stopped near a family portrait, her father holding her hand, as he held Lenna with his other hand, Siha standing behind them, her arms around Erik's neck, Montblanc standing in the foreground. They were so happy in that picture. Lenna was drawn to another picture, the Red Wings, when her father was the Captain. The master archer Kahn'a, the mad genius Askier, Zachary Evans the Berserker of Ul'dah, Osric the Shadow, and so many more.

 

Both caught in their thoughts, they awoke when their father sat a box on his table. It was small, to big to be a box, but to small to be a chest. He blew dust off of it, coughing uncontrollably for a moment. Once he stopped, raising his hand to halt his daughters' concerned advancement, "I am fine. I have something to give each of you." He opened the box, it was full of things, a spearhead from an old keeper friend, a robe of Halone, books, notes, rings, all sorts of things. From the bottom he drew out a book and a ring, closing the box back and returning it. He sat, winded, "Here we are my darlings." He looked first to Ross, handing her the ring, "This was your grandmother's ring. It is a sigil ring from the House Fortemps in Ishgard. It is very special as there are only three in the whole of Eorzea." He coughed again, harder this time. Both women looked at each other, trading thoughts without words, Lenna spoke then, "Papa, have you been to Doctor Volkov for that cough?" Erik smiled but did not reply, instead he handed her the book. She knew this book, The Demon, Dragon, and the Rose. Both women again looked worried to eachother, these were their father's most valued treasures. "Dad... you're worrying us. What is wrong?" said Ross, fighting hard to hold the tingling in her good eye, desperate not to cry. Lenna only grew angry, then numb, "Papa.... I... Please tell us." He stood, with great effort he walked to each, kissing their foreheads, then returned to his chair by the fire. He waved to them and motioned to the couch across from him.

 

They talked, laughed, even cried, for hours they sat there. He was still a master of manipulation, that pleased him. The women had all but forgotten their worry. Soon their visit was coming to an end, the sun was setting soon and the forest would be dangerous. There were hugs, kisses on cheeks, smiles and laughter, all to the backdrop of promises to visit more often, topped with "I love you's". He smiled and waved as his children walked down the path, they returning his love here and there until they had moved out of sight. He took one last look, though he was beyond their sight, they were not yet beyond his. When they were gone he shut the door and returned to his chair. "Feel better?" came a voice from long ago. He closed his eyes, a smile creeping over his lips, "Yes. I knew you would come today. I have been feeling this day coming." he said, his voice raspy from the coughing that had been constant these last few weeks. "You were always a few steps ahead of everyone. I missed you." He turned in his seat toward the open door, a door he had shut. In the door stood a young Keeper, her hair as golden as the light that came through the open door with her. He smiled and returned to sitting back in his chair, "And I you, more then you could have ever known." The girl laughed, "I think I may have guessed here and there. But anyway, are you ready?" Erik looked around the cottage, taking it all in. With a deep breath he sighed and nodded, "Yes... I am ready." With no effort he stood, his body young and fit as it ever had been. He walked to the door, to her. Taking her hand he turned back to the old man, asleep in the chair. He then looked into her eyes, taking in her warm smile... he had almost forgotten how warm her smile was. She wrapped both her arms around his arm and pulled, just as he remembered she would. She crinkled her nose then smiled as she pulled him once, "Come on, let's go home." He pulled her back, taking her in his arms, embracing her he whispered, "I am home."

 

The modest house was in calm and warm. The old man sitting by the fire rests his eyes in the large plush chair.

[Askier]

[align=center]What if....[/align]

 

[align=center]Askier had gone to the truce meeting with Kahn'a, Kanaria and Osric...[/align]

 

[align=center]intent on setting the bomb off instead of working with them?[/align]

 

 

The miqo'te's one, good, golden eye blinked as it dilated, an eye patch covering his left, ruined optic.  His brown hair was slicked back and his coat hung tight to his body.  The Garlean flexed both of this hands, scars and cuts covering them both from all the fighting he had done with them as of late.

 

A flask of whiskey was neatly tucked inside his coat pocket, resting beside a longer, heavier metal object.  Something he had picked up from Jin'li not hours before. 

 

Askier took another step into the Arrzaneth Ossuary and gazed around, sniffing the hair.  The first scent he caught was the odor of whiskey on his breath.  The second was hints of cerelium on his coat, a residue left over from his final alterations to his bomb, which now churned and spun, somewhere hidden deep inside the city.  Askier felt his stomach knot.  He knew what was going to happen to all the innocent people, how so many would die in an instant. 

 

Kanaria had almost used that feeling against.  She had convinced him to come to this meeting so that they could work out  truce.  Askier had agreed.  But he had changed his mind.  He wasn't about to rely on other people to help him now, especially his enemies!  Not after he had done so much on his own.  Raven and Delial were the only allies he needed.  And he had already sent letters to them both telling them to get out of town.  The bomb would go off, Ul'dah would vanish, and Saravena, his beloved little sister, would be free at last.

 

Askier sniffed the air then and caught the whiff of the female hyur nearby.  Askier had to hide his growl.

 

She was a mole. He had figured out she wasn't on his side, but Kahn'a, that pathetic excuse for a Flame.  That stupid kit and his bow.

 

The Garlean strode across the room to the side wall, lined with book shelves.  There they were.  All three of them. 

 

"Being late has it advantages." Askier mouthed to himself as he smiled arrogantly. His right hand flexing.  He had deliberately waited, giving them time to all gather.  Osric, Kahn'a, Kanaria. 

 

Osric and Kanaria sat at the table while Kahn'a stood against the wall.  They all fixed him with their eyes as he approached, the tension evident in their faces.  Except Osric's.  That hyru wore that stupid mask again.  Always that stupid mask.  Askier flashed a wicked grin at him.

 

"How's the knee?"  Askier jeered at Osric, recalling the fight where he had shattered the man's joint.  The mouth beneath the mask scowled and Askier straightened.  He knew he had the control at that moment.  Having a bomb ticking on a timer made him akin to a god.

 

"You're late."  Osirc replied sternly.

 

"Askier." Kanaria said softly, standing.  She fixed him with her lavender eyes.  It was obvious she was trying to defuse the situation.  Askier's expression hardened at her.  She had promised Askier that Kahn'a would be dead after he had left him in the street once Raven had finished torturing him.  She was a mole.  No mercy.

 

"Just keep your pretty little mouth shut, alright, Kanaria?" Askier spat motioning with his head at Kahn'a.  "I get whom you're loyal to."

 

There was an awkward pause and Kahn'a gave a feral growl.  Askier laughed.

 

"Why don't you learn to fight before you growl little kit.  You don't scare me.  But I know I scare you."  Askier snapped his teeth, but Kahn'a didn't back down.  The kit was growing bolder, Askier realized.

 

"You here to make this truce or insult us?"  Osric asked, leaning back in his chair.  Askier fixed the hyur with his one, golden eye and shook his head as he opened the front of his coat and reached underneath.  He noted everyone tense.

 

"Naw, the bomb is going off.  No truce."  Askier then slide the gunblade he had taken from Jin'li free and leveled it at Osric.  The gun erupted in a plum of fire as the projectile slammed into the hyur and sent him flying backwards as a fount of blood rose from his chest. 

 

Kahn'a reacted quickly, slinging the bow off his shoulder and knocking an arrow with surprising speed.  To bad Askier could simple point, pull, and shoot.  Kahn'a's leather armor did nothing to stop the bullet as it tore into his abdomen.

 

The Garlean then swung his weapon around and aimed it at Kanaria.

 

"Askier!" Kanaria shrieked in horror, tears coming to her eyes.  "What are you doing?  This isn't what we talked about!"

 

"No, but you aren't who I thought you were, traitor."  Askier snarled as his face flushed in anger. 

 

Askier fired, his face a mask of rage as she recoiled, slamming into the bookshelf and sliding down, gasping in pain.  The Garlean was about to turn when a poorly aimed arrow whizzed past his head.  Askier turned as Kahn'a knelt on the floor in a pool of his own blood, trying to aim another arrow.  Askier studied the younger miqo'te as he aimed his firearm at the wounded man.

 

"Kahn'a."  Askier said lazily as he pulled the hammer back on his gunblade.  His one good eye ran over Kahn'a face and Askier licked his lips.  "You're finally acting like a man."  Askier pulled the trigger and Kahn'a jerked back.  Askier turned and started walking, tossing the weapon aside as he reached into his coat and began pulling out grenades and tossing them about as several thaumaturges rushed around the pillars.  The explosions shook the building and the blasts echoed around the massive chamber.  Another grenade flew towards the door and blew the might doors from their hinges.  Smoke and fire broiled as Askier tossed three smoke grenades out the front door, filling the street with thick, chalky smoke.    Askier began to sprint as he heard Brass Blade whistles.  The Garlean slipped away in the smoke down an alley.

 

Askier smiled in the shadows as he kept walking, taking a sip from his flask.  He had won.  Erik Mynheir was gone, his three greatest threats had just been killed, and his bomb was hidden.  His sister would be free. 

 

*Six Days Later*

 

Ul'dah was gone.  Nothing more than a smoking crater.  The blast had been glorious.  The most beautiful explosion Askier had ever crafted.  Askier reaclled how he had watched it from a hill well outside the blast radius.  Blue it had been and a dome of pure, cerelium energy released at a precise moment. 

 

As Askier had traveled north to Fallgourd Float, he had heard nothing but rumors and fears.  No mention of his name, of course, but it didn't matter.  Terror had been sown and despite the mass genocide he had just committed, Askier was impressed with his skill.

 

The drunk miqo'te stumbled into the inn at Fallgourd Float, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.  He staggered towards a table as he took another swig of the bottle, trying to drown his conscious that kept trying to rise up and make him feel remorse.  Askier collapsed in the chair as the miqo'te with white hair lifted his head from the book he had been reading and gave a bow.

 

"Master Mergrey." Jin'li said flatly, expressionless as always.  "This humble slave is most impressed by the commitment you have shown to your family."

 

"Where's Saravena?" Askier slurred as he glared hatefully at the Jin'li. 

 

"Upstairs, asleep in the usual room."  the eunuch explained calmly. 

 

"I have your word she is alive and well." 

 

"This slave is not offended. Is a rational thought.  You have this slave's word she is well, simply sleeping on a drug we gave her.  She will awake soon."

 

"Good."  Askier growled as he rose to his to feet and reached into his coat.

 

"Master Adin wishes to speak with you, Master Mergrey." Jin'li said as he watched Askier.

 

Askier said nothing. He simply walked over to the runt and shoved a knife into his throat.  Jin'li blinked in surprise and fell to the floor as blood filled his lungs and began to drown him.  Askier disappeared up the stairs as the bartender stared in horror.

 

A few minutes later, Askier left the inn, everyone inside giving him a wide berth as he carried his sister to Drumstick and gently slid her into the saddle.  He slipped up behind her and took the reigns of his chocobo in one hand as he hugged his sister tightly too him with the other as he cried.

 

Two years.  It had been two years since he had held her.  Since she had been free.  Two years, and a list of sins even demons would hesitate to commit.  Tears rolled down Askier's cheeks as they rode off, their destination uncertain.  She was free.  That's all that mattered.

[Melodia]

((Just a short one for fun.  ))

 

[align=center]What if Ruru Had Joined His Brother[/align]

 

ONE YEAR AFTER.....

 

The lalafell with the short cropped white hair sprinted, his black pants and jacket covering firther in the darkness as his goggles helped him see. The clouds added a bit more cover and he ascended the rocky outcrop as finally saw his target. Counting silently, he numbered seven at the small camp. He grinned and touched his ear to activate the linkpearl.

 

"Seven in camp. I can take two down now by your command."

 

The older Garlean on the other end simply replied. "Take the two if able. For the Empire."

 

Ruru smiled and nodded to himself whispering. "For the Empire."

 

He drew his advanced bow, nothing like the wooden heap he'd used for so long and when he was ready, aiming at the sentry, he let loose. The arrow struck the sentry in the throat and took him down without a sound. without taking hardly a breath he truned, with another arrow ready to fly and took the other sentry down in a similar fashion.

 

"Both down, sir. Five remaining in the camp if the attack force is ready." Ruru's voice was cold and his speech was the manner of a good, loyal soldier. "Shall I continue forward sir?"

 

The elder voice commanded him to return to base and he replied, "Aye sir."

 

Ruru stood and ran back into the shadows of darkness. His life as a recon and advance scout for the Garleans was one he never anticipated and while Nonotano had gone on to join the Twelve, Ruru embraced his role and knew his contribution would make his mother and sister's deaths worth it. As he ran he could see the cannons flash behind him as the camp was being obliterated and he let himself smile with satisfaction, if only for the briefest moments.