Thaliak's Sisyphus [Journal/Story - OOC Welcome]

[Gegenji]

Switching things up this time around and telling a bit of a tale on Chachanji's older brother, Gogonji, and exactly what he's been up to since he left Doma those many years ago. This both predates the current events a little and references things like the Scholar quest line. So, those who don't wish to be spoiled please be wary of that!

 

Also, please feel free to leave your comments and feelings! Whether it's on what I could improve, what parts you liked, or any slip-ups I might've made in my albeit hasty comprehension of Eorzean lore. Especially the latter, I may be bending the lore a bit for what is going to happen, but I want at least the historical events to be somewhat accurate. :blush:

 

Also, I tend to second-guess myself a lot, so I will often go back and edit or add stuff as ideas hit me. Even this paragraph was added after-the-fact! So, um, sorry about that. I'm just trying to improve the story as best I can. :blush: x2

 

With that all said and out of the way, please enjoy!

 

Oh, and have a background theme:

3oSMuTvDHCM

 

(I'll try to find fitting themes for each section I post, but I can't promise too much.)

 

 

The stagnant air hung heavy with familiar, comforting scents. Of musty pages and fading ink, of choking dust and just a hint of mildew. Of epic stories slowly growing older and historical events sliding inexorably further and further back in time. It was the scent of knowledge, all compressed upon pages and betwixt an uncountable number of covers.

 

And it was no small wonder that such a scent was so predominant: the insides of the little shack nestled away in the Coerthas Highlands had more the look of a compressed library than a home. Every wall had a shelf firmly pressed up against it, each one crammed to bursting with tomes on a seemingly random number of topics. The tables and nightstands were little more than squatter shelves that just happened to - sometimes - have something on top of them other than more books. Even the bed was merely a mattress set upon a series of cubbies that housed those texts and treatises that were most likely to be torn from their resting places during the many sleepless nights. Truly, the only place devoid of some manner of penned knowledge was the hearth, which seemed almost an afterthought in the design of the place - little more than the slightest of concessions to combat the biting chill of Halone's icy breath.

 

The fire within its depths crackled and burned fiercely, casting wavering shadows every which way as it brightened and dimmed chaotically - as a flame is wont to do. Such lighting was horrendously inconsistent, and it was that inconsistency that led to the acquisition of the only other source of light in this diminutive warehouse of knowledge: a single lantern that sat neatly atop the desk. It too was alight, casting its much more orderly glow upon the many texts that lay open near it.

 

The titles of these texts ranged from simplistic things such as "The Ceruleum Secret" to scientific journals that boasted such verbosely named articles as "The Cyclic Stream of Aether - A Treatise on the Ebb and Flow of Life Energy" by the Sharlayan professor Ennan Amuus. Regardless of title or content, violet orbs flitted over each and every one, soaking up the penned knowledge like the driest sponge. Those eyes absorbed details on the source of aether, where it came from and where it goes, and even of the beasts of the Void that seek to claim it for themselves from the gap through which it passes. All to slake that unquenchable thirst for knowledge that drove him so.

 

Knowledge, information, awareness; it was here that true power lay, after all. One could have the strongest sword or the mightiest army, but without knowledge on how to best utilize it, they were nothing but scrap metal or a rabble of miscreants. The best laid plans could easily crumble to pieces once knowledge of its details were disseminated to those that would seek to defy it. And a knowledge of the ebbs and flows of the market could mean the difference between riches and poverty. Those who could control the flow of information could themselves weave a tapestry at Nymeia's wheel... and, more importantly, could profit off it.

 

Such was the goals of one Gogonji Gegenji, the eldest son of the Doman smith Zozonji Gegenji. Whilst his father was merely content to peddle in outdated wares like maces and armor, Gogonji sought a much higher calling for himself. He sought to peddle knowledge in the truest sense - to teach and enlighten, from something as simple as wielding a sword to battlefield tactics to understanding the inner complexities of economic trends. So stalwart was he in his resolve that he defied his family and their tradition, that he left both his nation of Doma and Othard itself to fulfill his desires. And it was those selfsame desires that had ultimately led him here, to Eorzea.

 

But why such a focus on aether? Had someone actually managed to hunt down the dour-faced Lalafell and present such a question to him, he would have likely frowned deeply, slowly shaken his head, and delivered a dismissive sigh. For the answer to such a question, to him at least, was perhaps the most obvious thing on Hydaelyn: aether was the stuff of life, and from life came experience, and from experience knowledge. Some of this accumulated knowledge was given form and penned on scrolls and tomes and texts, of course, but there was so much more that was left unwritten or even deliberately expunged from the annuls of history. Not to mention how obnoxious things like time and bias and the fallacies of the mind could warp and distort it all into an incomprehensible mash of nonsense that was of little use to anyone.

 

However, in his searching and his travels and his adventures, Gogonji had come across a better method. A means to bequeath knowledge and experience that lay untarnished by the years or the fallible minds of others. Knowledge both modern and ancient both could be at one's behest, passed along with no distortion or deviation through something as primitive and corruptible as language. Knowledge that could be passed along purely and utterly untainted.

 

And an example of that superior method currently sat dead center on his desk, on a small wooden dais like an altar. All the papers and pages that were otherwise scattered about gave it and its stand an honorable berth, as it was due.  For within it lay the culmination of the life of someone long past, their knowledge engraved deep within its aetheric facets. The information pure despite the twisted and corrupted form that its former owner now wore.

 

A Soul Crystal.

 

Specifically, the Soul Crystal of an ancient Scholar of the ancient Vylbrandian city-state of Nym. A nation whose mastery of knowledge and tactics had kept them on even footing against the might of White and Black magicks, both supposed gifts of the Elementals and gods. And a nation that had faded away, its remnants naught but decrepit ruins and the twisted forms of its former inhabitants that dwelt within them - the Tonberries.

 

And yet, through this shard of crystallized aether, through this stone that looked little more than a gem with the symbol of a pair of spectacles, that knowledge had been recovered. With a formula and a flourish, Gogonji could call upon techniques long forgotten and bring them to bear against unwitting allies and enemies alike. He could even summon one of Nym's miniature magical minions to heed his beck and call - the Fairy, who in and of herself was an informational marvel. An aetheric construct that was static, consistent, and inheritable; unlike the variable nature of the lowly Carbuncle - itself a derivative of ancient Allagan summoning practices.

 

Still, while the Fairy was indeed an interesting concept in her own right, she only existed in conjunction to - and perhaps even because of - the infinitely more interesting Soul Crystal. Here was a method to transfer knowledge and information unconfined by such limiting things as bias and language. Yet even this method had its flaws: the knowledge was slow in coming, and the stones themselves seemed almost annoyingly cognizant enough to choose whom it might bequeath their knowledge to.

 

This would not do if he was to use Soul Crystals as his medium to sell information and knowledge. They needed to transfer their knowledge much faster, and to whom he chose rather than the dubious decisions of a crystallized soul. Like ceruleum was refined aether, so too would these Soul Crystals need to be refined. Corrected. Improved.

 

And it was for this reason that Gogonji scoured tome upon tome, text upon text. The Lalafell was eager for any tidbit or inkling of similar practice, of those who may have trodden this path before. And, if he was to be the first, to gird himself with as much knowledge on related subjects as possible. For he refused to fail, and was resolute in his purpose.

 

He would show his father.

 

... No, not just show him...

 

He would surpass him, completely and utterly. He would make his father bow before him and praise him, praise his ever-calculating and forward-thinking mind. Then - and only then - would Gogonji, with the backing of his connections and his family, forcibly move all of Hydaelyn into a new age. Not an age of barbaric squabbles and animistic feuds over territory, but an age of learning and knowledge. An age of enlightenment, an age of information.

 

And he would profit off of every bit of it, for he was the eldest son of Lalafellan merchants, after all.

 

That ever-dour expression lightened somewhat as the faintest of grins tugged at one corner of the Lalafell's lips. It vanished quickly enough, however, with a quelling harrumph and a clearing of his throat. Settling back into his seat, Gogonji turned his attentions back to his tomes and the - albeit biased and incomplete - information that lay within. The latest one was an in-depth look on both aspected and unaspected crystals, and how one might transition to the other under certain stimuli.

 

Meanwhile, the Soul Crystal was content to glittered dimly in the lamplight, taunting him with the secrets that still lay locked deep inside.

[Gegenji]

Um... p-part two, I guess. :blush:

 

Finding fitting music for this bit was surprisingly difficult. I wanted something industrious, but with a bit of a somber tone to it for what happens during the scene. For some reason I drifted to steampunk-style music and came up with this... though perhaps there might be something better:

 

N4eshdFCpOQ

 

Feel free to let me know if you think another musical piece might be better. Or if I can make any improvements to this little tale. Or, y'know, whatever. :blush:

 

 

A couple weeks later...

 

In what was certainly a rare occurrence in the compressed shack-slash-library, Gogonji's desk was almost completely cleared of the text and tomes that dominated the living space. Replacing them, however, were instead large swaths of parchment scattered about almost as random as the books had been. Several more lay crumpled up into crinkly little balls at the foot of his chair, the failed formulae and conceptual designs still quite fresh on their deformed surfaces beneath angry strikeouts and the smearing of still wet ink. The writer and subsequent discard-er of the computations himself was bent over his latest indecipherable aggregate of numbers and symbols.

 

For the briefest of moments, an irate violet eye flitted to the discarded trash and let out a disdainful harrumph as fresh memories arose unbidden to his mind. The Lalafell's perturbed gaze quickly returned to the Soul Crystal that still rested steadfast upon its tiny podium, glittering faintly in the lantern-light. If the stone itself had something to say about Gogonji's rising frustrations, it remained tactfully silent about it.

 

"Fools," the eldest Gegenji child muttered, staring sharply into the facets of the crystal as if his gaze alone could unlock the secrets hidden within its vitrified depths. He didn't even peel his gaze away from it when his Fairy Ezra flitted to his side, bearing a mug of hot tea she had freshly brewed for him in the hearth. His simply took the proffered drink without even a glance her way, setting himself to immediately drum his fingers along its ceramic surface before speaking again: "Utter fools."

 

They hadn't understood. Of course they hadn't. That... that Cid may be hailed as a mechanical genius, but he had no vision, not to mention apparently much less creativity as he was toted as having, and next to no business savvy. The latter was the most obvious, seeing as he had come across the Ironworks as they were in the beginnings of a discussion to start mass-producing chintzy Magitek armor replicas for deep-pocketed adventurers in order to stave off the threat of bankruptcy. Any possible chance for the company to progress and expand was being utterly stymied by the fool's penchant for adventuring over advancement.

 

As such, when Gogonji had deigned to approach them - which was quite the effort in and of itself, considering his discomfort around people in general - with his still-fledgling concept to amplify the resonance ratio between Soul Crystal and wielder using ceruleum and more advanced magiteknology, he had been simply... waved away. Waved away. Like some common base-learned dullard with a half-assed idea for a better mousetrap rather than a visionary with plans to improve Eorzea, nay, Hydaelyn itself! Just remembering the dismissal caused his temper to flare up again and his grip to tighten on the mug, which had the unintended side-effect of sending the contents sloshing up and over the lip to splatter onto his white-knuckled fingers.

 

"Chikusho!" he hissed, jerking sharply away from the offending cup and letting it thud solidly onto the the hardwood floor beneath him. It spun and whirled with an obnoxious grinding of ceramic on wood as it hurled its piping hot contents every which way, soaking into the discarded documents or leaving little sizzling pools of tea where it managed to successfully reach the floor itself. Ezra was at his side in an instant, chiming and jingling in alarm as she worriedly circled his head. Gogonji had no idea what she was actually saying - a fact he was loathe to admit, even to himself - but he could guess her intent easily enough.

 

"I'm fine," he snapped, shaking his hands out as if doing so would cast away the sharp bites of pain that still lingered in his fingers. Ezra, however, continued her insistent litany of worried bell-like noises as she flitted down to inspect his hands. Her glow brightened some as she sought to tend to the light burns with a gentle Embrace of healing aether, her chiming becoming almost a gentle cooing noise. Gogonji in his ire, however, would have none of it and yanked his hands away from her light touch as if too sought to burn him. "I said I'm fine!"

 

Ezra skittered away at the harsh tone, retreating to a kind of safety behind the illustrious Soul Crystal and its little dais. And it was as she retreated, as Gogonji saw her escaping form that those harsh violet eyes... suddenly softened. His frown lost its outward edge and instead turned inward, transmogrified into a look of stout disapproval at his own actions rather than the Fairy's. A short snort of a sigh escaped from his nostrils and the Lalafell let both his hands and his gaze drop weakly into his lap.

 

"I..."

 

The Fairy peered timidly over the stone.

 

"I-I'm sorry, Ezra." The hatred and disdain had all but evaporated from the eldest Gegenji's tone, replaced instead with a sort of listless sorrow. "I'm... I'm not mad at you. Never you."

 

Ezra stared apprehensively at her master for what felt like several long seconds before she flitted back over to him, landing gently on his thigh. Once more she brightened with aetheric energy and, this time, Gogonji made no move to stop her as she smoothed away the burns under her healing touch. She smiled up with him with her little smile once she was done, then pantomimed drinking something eloquently with tiny pinky outstretched.

 

"Y-yes, more tea would be lovely," Gogonji admitted as the weakest of smiles creased his lips. "Th-thank you, Ezra."

 

His gaze remained downcast as she took to the air again, to flit to the floor and reclaim the fallen mug before heading off to refill it with a fresh helping of Galago Mint tea. It was only as she rounded the counter of one of the many bookshelves that the Lalafell's gaze lifted to the point at which she departed. His violet eyes reflected dully in the light from the desktop lantern, shimmering weakly and forlornly. He truly hadn't mean to raise his voice at her as he had, and just thinking about it caused a nervous knot to form in his gut.

 

"I'm sorry..." he repeated weakly, even though he knew the Fairy was too far away now to hear it. His second apology was followed by a fierce shaking of his head, trying to forcefully dispel the cobwebs and gloom that roosted within. With a deep breath, he turned his attentions back to the diagrams and formulae that still lay unfinished upon the sheets of parchment. He was once again deep within his numbers and theories when Ezra returned with the fresh cup of tea. When she jingled lightly to get his attention, he harrumphed and made a dismissive wave of his hand.

 

Ezra canted her little head, then settled the mug down on the table - well within reach, but just far enough away that Gogonji wouldn't knock it over during his calculations. With a little chime, she flitted to his head and gently patted a section of the Lalafell's meticulously kept jade-hued hair, which elicited another wordless grunt of dismissal. The Fairy looked at her master for a moment, then tinkled with light laughter and gave him one more pat for good luck before going to look for something to help in cleaning up the mess of crumpled papers and discarded tea. It was only once she was gone again that the eldest Gegenji seemed to notice the fresh mug of tea out of the corner of his eyes.

 

Gogonji's hand stilled, and he settled the quill down carefully back in its ink pot, the equation still half-finished. He tentatively reached for the cup, hesitating once before wrapping a hand around it and drawing it closer. Slowly, the Lalafell drank deep of the mug's contents, letting its warmth and crisp flavor warm his bones and soothe his nerves. By the time Ezra returned with the tiniest rag she could find, the mug was back in the spot where she had left it; drained dry.

 

Ezra made the best tea.

[Gegenji]

Another bit down the pipe. Be forewarned, this is where I start bending the lore a bit more and taking some artistic liberties. If there's any sort of glaring flaws against existing lore, however, please let me know!

 

And, as always, please let me know what you think and what I can improve!

 

Today's musical selection is:

vV_rImCZyEc

 

Though, again, feel free if you think of something else while reading this.

 

 

Moons later..

 

A hiss.

 

A hum.

 

Light.

 

It was all followed by a subtle thrumming sound, not unlike the beating of a heart. The ceruleum flowed in sputters and spurts through the tubes into the core of the unit, submersing the clear chamber set in its center. Within the casing, held in place with braces and host to a network of nerve-like wires, was a Soul Crystal. His Soul Crystal, for Gogonji could trust no one other than himself to do this. And, even then, he had one finger by the emergency shut-off and his other hand wrapped tight around the handle of the heaviest hammer he could acquire.

 

One must needs take risks in order for advancement, but he would be like unto Rhalgr should the machine look even for the briefest instant like it would take his Soul Crystal away from him.  He would not lose his connection to the ancient Nymian people. He absolutely refused to lose access to their forgotten knowledge. And to Ezra. He had made abso-damn-lutely sure of that during the entire process in which this strange prototype was put together.

 

Which in and of itself had been quite the feat, if he could pat himself on the back a little bit. Even with the pages of formulae giving credence to his theories and the roughest of blueprints made with his thoroughly limited knowledge of Magiteknology - something he was quite certain he needed to rectify sooner rather than later - it had taken much insistence and the greasing of palms before they would even deign to take a look at his work. At least he gained some gratification by the double and triple takes that those vision-less opo-opos had made when they looked over the figures. And more once he had this prototype put together and set for testing.

 

Testing that would only be done here, in his secluded shack, away from all of them. He didn't even give the technicians the option to copy down any notes on his designs unless they were on the blueprints themselves; blueprints that  even now lay next to the thrumming device dominating the available space on his tabletop. He would give them credit for aiding in paving the way to a better future, of course, but he was not so foolish as to let them have free reign over even the smallest bit of his intellectual property without his knowledge. It was property that he had devised, he had funded (for ceruleum was not cheap and bit heavily in his assets), and that he had sought with tireless vigil. This was knowledge for him and him alone to have, to expound upon, and to profit off of.

 

Gogonji leaned close over the device, tapping lightly on the clear casing that held his precious chunk of crystallized knowledge. It was completely submerged in the ceruleum now, the entire chamber an almost enchanting shade of azure. Yet he could still see his Soul Crystal, and he eyed it critically for any deformities; any sign of distress or cracking that would herald both a solid click of a switch and a much more visceral shattering of the glass. When he saw nothing that offended his already high-strung senses, he proceded to the next stage.

 

Another button was pressed and the nerve system of wires surrounding the Soul Crystal crackled to life. It was such a simple enough theory in hindsight: ceruleum was a processed, liquid form aether to a crystal's more silicate form. Flowing the former over the latter could theoretically simulate a flow of aether not unlike the flow of aether in one's body. And with the proper application of electrical current at the proper voltage and wattage...

 

Perhaps one might be able to "awaken" a Soul Crystal.

 

Another careful check of the stone and Gogonji's hands drifted to the pair of dials, designed to alter the amount of energy flowing through to the device from the attached cluster of Lightning-aspected crystals. The strength, the frequency, it could all be adjusted here. Gogonji had already calculated what he figured might be the aetheric frequency of a living body's electrical current, but there was till a margin of error that needed to be sifted through. Levilm by levilm, ramz by ramz.

 

What he was looking for was a sign... not unlike the telltale glow of white auracite as described in a treatise he had read by one Moenbryda. Something to let him know that the aetheric... resuscitation perhaps was the proper word to use... had succeeded and the Soul Crystal was interacting with its ceruleum bath. Each gentle twitch of either dial had Gogonji's amethyst gaze snapped back to the chamber, looking for signs of impending success... or impending failure.

 

50 millilmramz, nothing. 60 millilmramz, still nothing. 65, 70, 75. The Doman Lalafell ticked up the dial higher and higher, letting more of the lightning crystal's power flow through the ceruleum. It was only when it was up in the upper range of his theorized margin that the eagle-eyed Scholar noticed the briefest of flickers when passing from 80 to 81 millilmramz.

 

Again he combed through the range, but on a much more minute range. It took all of his willpower to keep his fingers from shaking and sending the dial sharply one way or the other. 80.1 milliramz, nothing.

 

80.2... no.

80.3, 80.4... no and no.

80.5, 80.6, 80.7...

 

Light.

 

The symbol etched in the Soul Crystal, the enigmatic shape that looked not unlike the spectacles Gogonji often wore, began to glow with an inner light. The light reflected in the Lalafell's violet eyes as they widened in awe. He ticked it back down to 80.6 and the glow faded away again, only to return when set back to 80.7. 80.8? It turned dark once more.

 

80.7 millilmramz. Light. Success.

 

But what next? While Gogonji had theorized something like this, had sought to prove it could be done with research and formulae, he knew not what to do next. After all, the knowledge locked within the Soul Crystal seemed to come at random spurts, under the strangest criterion seemingly set by the stone itself. He need only have it in contact with him when these irrational events occurred and he gained access to forgotten knowledge. Maybe he must needs brush his hand over the case itself and...

 

"Sir."

 

Gogonji looked up from the map laid open before him, the rest of the war council also looking up at the sudden entry of the soldier. His black hair clinged close to his face and his ears, shimmering with the sweat of exertion. And the sweat of fear.

 

"They come again. From Aldenard."

 

The others looked to him. He was their senior, after all. When the war broke out, he was first to be appointed to this position, to Master of Tactics and the illustrious Eye of Oschon. It was his mastery of mathemagica and knowledge of warfare that had been crucial in maintaining parity in this gruesome war of conflicting magicks.

 

"Information. Give me information! Numbers, direction, speed, anything and everything you have!" he snapped as he cast aside the markers resting atop the map like it was mere chaff. And as the data was relayed to him, he replaced them. Forming a miniature simulation of the attack that was about to bear down on them. His slate gray eyes flitted over the scene he had set down before himself, his work looked over in kind by his peers. His comrades, his peers, his students.

 

It was then that he knew. His hand almost had a life of its own as it sought ink and quill, jotting down notes and directions like a man possessed. His eyes followed the movements of his own fingertips with the closest attention, to ensure that no error was made in his script. Once it was done, he sought a handful of drying powder to sprinkle over the wet ink - casting it over his orders even as he returned the quill to its pot with his other hand.

 

"Take this to the front, as quickly as you can," Gogonji ordered. "Should you be a thousandth of a bell too late, it could alter the results horrifically."

 

Such a statement was not true, but it impressed the urgency of the situation.

 

"Y-yes, m'lord..." The courier's hand reached out shakily for the scroll, still winded from his sprinting. He was given no solace by the Master of Tactics and had the parchment shoved into his still-quivering hands. The man stumbled back, staring dumbly down at the scroll.

 

"No dawdling! GO!"

 

With a jerk, the courier fled. Gogonji watched his fleeing form for the briefest of instants before turning back to the rest of the council. His eyes were hard and focused, moving slowly from Scholar to Scholar.

 

"Gentlemen, that should buy us some time. Time to properly plan a repelling action. Now--"

 

Gogonji ripped his hand from the device, stumbling backwards in his chair and upending it with a momentous crash of wood on wood and Lalafell on wood. The memories that were not his own were still fresh in his mind, but they had an unexpected visitor in the lances of pain from the force of impact. The eldest Gegenji child spent many a moment curled up on the floor, his thoughts flitting from "BY HALONE'S ICY TITS THAT HURT!" to "WHAT IN THALIAK'S NAME WAS THAT!?" in equal measure. It was only once the pain started to subside that he mused more on the latter than the former.

 

He recognized the effect. He had suffered it before, the flashes of a person's past and understanding tongues not his own. Such was the power of the Echo, a power both amazing and obtrusive in equal parts. However, such flashes only came when in close proximity to the living. To those who held such memories within their still-functioning mind. But this...?

 

This was different, monumentally so.

 

Had he... had he truly revived the Soul Crystal? And was it the device allowing him to tap into the memories locked within the ancient stone by itself, or was it a combination of both machine and his Echo "speaking" to the awakened soul within? This required more testing. Much, much more.

[Gegenji]

I'm just hammering these out, huh?

 

I feel... less confident with this one. I knew I wanted it to happen and it flows sorta like how I want it to, but something feels off. Maybe I'm just being nervous. That happens when I look over my writing more often than I'd like to admit.

 

What I listened to this time was something epic-sounding. Something that was building up to something amazing. After all, Gogon is delving into some powerful lore-bendy (and possibly breaky?) stuff here.

 

Wows3itfrLE

 

... I'll probably fiddle with this chapter a lot until this churning in my gut settles down some. So, um, be wary of that. :blush:

 

 

This was incredible.

 

The initial shock of another lifetime of memories flowing into him was quite staggering but, now that Gogonji knew of it, he could brace himself properly. Rather than a full Echo experience, he could force his own mental dominion and keep his mind here in the present. All the while, his mind was aglow with knowledge long forgotten.

 

Before this, he certainly knew the formulae and the symbols well enough, but it had always held that disconnected feeling of having learned it secondhand - a feeble, bootstrapped sort of knowing when merely imparted by the Soul Crystal. Yet, when he made the same gestures when in contact with the Awakener - as he had taken to calling it - there was experience behind it. Experience that resulted in a speed and a crispness to his movements that were not there before. The protective galvanized fields of aetheric energy that he had come so accustomed to shaping came out so much faster, so much stronger than before. This was truly the power of knowledge, the knowledge of power.

 

It made him feel so... so alive.

 

So much so that the Lalafell's Scholastic motions felt obnoxiously sluggish when used out of conjunction with the Awakener now. Like there was something missing, a memory long forgotten that nagged at the edges of his senses to remind him of what once was once at his fingertips. Yet, while he had not possessed the foresight to calculate the strength and speed of his mathemagica prior to his jarring mind-trip back in time - for who could have expected such results? - he had begun to almost religiously tracking it since. And, while it was nowhere close to the levels that he got from direct contact to the Awakener, he was able to plot a slight but definite improvement in his skills.

 

But, this was only with knowledge and skills already bequeathed upon him by the Soul Crystal. Things already under his purview; things he already knew, like an advanced lecture on a course he already knew the material of. This, of course, led logically to the next question: but what of matters he knew naught? Could the Awakener bestow upon him skills and abilities he had never practiced, had never attained?

 

Such questions, as much as they harangued him to be answered, turned out to be difficult to test in any reasonable time-frame. For something as powerful and intrinsically useful as a Soul Crystal was understandably both coveted and rare, and even outlawed with regard to the more forbidden arts. There was only one type that he could attain with any sort of speed, and it still required quite the time investment coupled with even more draining of his quickly waning financial resources, for it came from the gil-devouring desert jewel of Ul'dah. For, what art had more practitioners than the way of the Holy Blade - the Paladin?

 

And it was a "misplaced" Soul Crystal of a former Sultansworn that was now submersed within the depths of the ceruleum bath. Even though he had his results from his own Soul Crystal, the Lalafell went through the same arduous procedure again with this second stone. For, who was to say that differing Soul Crystals didn't react to different amounts of electrical energy? He had sunk quite a vast amount of time and gil into this project thus far, and Gogonji was not about to lose his investment to sloppiness and assumption. He was toeing the line on discoveries and powers far too great to make even the smallest mistake.

 

And his wariness turned out to be also prudent, for the Paladin Soul Crystal Awoke at a mere 80.3 millilmramz rather than the Scholar's 80.7. Like its sister stone, its symbol that looked not unlike the Holy Knight's shield glimmered and brightened to an almost divine brilliance. That untainted white light reflected in Gogonji's violet orbs, making them seem almost pinkish under the pearly glare. And it was only the adaptations of his Dunefolk heritage that allowed him to look on without turning away from the enthralling magnificence before him.

 

The eldest son of Zozonji tore his gaze away for only the briefest moment to glance at the two new additions to his table: a sword and shield of cheap and simple make, picked up from a vendor in Ul'dah. Had had crafted such weapons under the guidance of his stubborn smith of a father, but had never brought to bear like those they were peddled to. They seemed simple enough to use, but a test swing of the blade against a training dummy had sent a thought-correcting jolt of pain up his arm on impact and sent his teeth to chattering. He could still recall the barely-concealed sniggering of the Gladiator's Guild residents as the waifish bookworm had gathered up the armaments he had somehow dropped in his exertions and crept shamefully away.

 

An embarrassed flush had marred his cheeks then as they did now, along with the same look of righteous indignation. If this worked as he theorized, that he could gain all the knowledge and experience of a swordsman long deceased, then he would be able to return to that hall of muscle-bound brutes and put them in their place. What sniggering would there be then when he confronted the largest of them and cast them down with the techniques and skills of an ancient master of the craft?

 

It was with those thoughts in mind that Gogonji reached out and touched the smooth glass of the Awakener's core.

 

At first, the Hellsguard thought the crowds surprisingly thick, especially considering the heat that was pounding down from overhead and threatening to back him within his ceremonial armor. However, for all their filth and lack of class, Gogonji had to admit that miners were quite the stubborn and determined individuals. With many of them being lowborn, unlearned commoners, he had no doubt that there was an air of desperation that aided in this resolve of theirs.

 

And no small wonder. This would be the first Mythril mine to be opened and put under the auspices of his Sultana's Miner's Guild. Many had flocked to the banner when she had made the decree, seeking a chance to get their grubby mitts on even the smallest fragment of the valuable ore. A chance to vault themselves up in the ranks of society with the gil to be made from it. It was almost amusing to imagine the rabble descend upon the veins of ore like a pack of lowly coblyn.

 

The sound of the tent flap opening brought Gogonji's attentions back to the present and the bemused smirk evaporated away, leaving an unreadable, stern expression in its wake. His snapped to attention, his sword arm crossing his chest in salute as the figure stepped out from the fabric-granted shade into the unyielding light of the Thanalan sun. Along with the diminutive form came a burst of smells from within - of rare flowers and spices, of wealth and of class. It cut through the stench of the rabble, reminding the Sultansworn of what real Ul'dahnians smelled like.

 

He loved that smell. He loved the way she walked. The way she cast that look of unquestionable authority his way when she demanded information. Information he happily provided, as passed along to him by those under his command.

 

The rabble were ready for her magnificence. They were waiting, eager to have her cut the ceremonial ribbon that had been cast across the mouth of the new mine. To open it to the unwashed massed waiting to descend upon it and bring out of it a wealth of mythril ore. Mythril that, in the short run, might lift them up enough to perhaps at least start to ape their betters, but would ultimately make its hands into those who knew how to use such assets properly.

 

Like her.

 

Like the Sultana.

 

His Sultana - his Nanasha Ul Nasha.

 

Gogonji withdrew his hand from the Awakener in a much calmer fashion than his first, almost certain that the alluring scent of the ancient Sultana still lingered in the air. A huge hulking Roegadyn lusting for someone so far above his station? One who only attained his station due to the physical might he could bring to the illustrious Holy Knights of Ul'dah? Gogonji almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it as the memories quickly began to dissolve into the aether like, almost fittingly, waking from a dream. Yet, it was that very physical prowess that he desired; the skill he sought to test.

 

The rest of it was mere chaff.

 

Now aware of the memories that would assault him, the Lalafell again rested his hand against the Magitek amalgamation. And again the experiences of the brute of a man rushed forth to assault his senses, only to crash against the iron walls of Gogonji's will. He cared not for the man's hopes and his dreams, of his carnal desires and lusts. He needed only his experience and knowledge with the blade.

 

With his other arm, Gogonji reached out for the sword, and he found himself recoiling a bit. Such a shoddy blade did not belong in the hands of a Sultansworn! Especially not one so close to his Sultana as he. Where was his blade, the symbol of his station?

 

And then the feeling was gone, forcibly chained in the depths of his subconscious in shackles wrought from his ego. Yet, Gogonji still noted that he even took up the blade differently, held it in a style different to the haphazard grip he had brought to bear against the training dummy. His own knowledge of a blade's craftsmanship was echoed by the quelled memories of one who had truly used such blades before. And the flaws stood out all the more to him, and the Lalafell felt his expression twist again into a look of slight disgust.

 

He would need a finer blade in the future, he decided with a curt nod. It would not do for someone who was to bring about such momentous change to be swinging around a weapon of such shoddy workmanship. But that was for later. For now, he needed to see how much of the skill was being passed onto him; how much knowledge was being conferred by this link to the soul of the ancient Hellsguard.

 

The sword, questionable make or no, felt like an extension of himself as Gogonji slashed through the musty air of his cabin. Yes, he felt himself thinking, this felt right. This felt proper. The way such a blade was meant to be swung, rather than the aimless flailing he had done earlier.

 

Content with his findings, he again let go of his connection to the the Awakener, feeling those memories and feelings melt away into an imperceptible haze. Within seconds, it was all but the faintest flittings and sound and light that cheerfully stymied any attempts to bring them back into focus. However, he still noted he held the blade slightly differently, and there was a bit more purpose behind his swings, almost as if he had gone through a sun of basic swordplay.

 

But just how much had he retained? How much had he improved. As much as it filled him with dread, there was one obvious answer to his questions. Grabbing his ivory jacket and slipping it on in one smooth motion, Gogonji left the stifling confines of his home and into the frigid embrace of the Coerthas day.

 

He returned to his cabin that evening battered, bruised, and sore. His challenge had been quickly accepted at the Gladiator's Guild, and his brief touch on the mind of an ancient warrior had quickly proven to be not quite enough to keep his opponent's training blade from repeatedly finding purchase on his softer parts. Yet, he had still managed to startle the self-confident ruffian, and managed to land a single blow before being beaten to a pulp by the enraged Highlander.

 

Just a single blow, yet also a blow that Gogonji was fairly certain he would never have been able to make before then. A proof of concept? Perhaps. He would need to spend more time absorbing the knowledge from this new Soul Crystal. And tending to his myriad wounds.

 

And figuring out a safer way to test his theories.

 

... Freaking ow.

[Gegenji]

Bending the lore just a little bit more in this one. Setting the stage for things to come. Truthfully, I actually started with something else at first, but I realized that this was an event that needed to happen in the flow of the story.

 

I actually had music picked out that was more fitting for that bit as well, so I kinda scrambled a bit for something more apropos for this. While it's not perfect, this fit well enough:

 

4Tizng8k5bg

 

Trying to stay strong, trying to keep at this and bring Gogonji up to where he is right now time-wise. How many more little mini-stories are between now and then... is still left to be seen, I suppose.

 

Um, enjoy. :blush:

 

 

It was all coming along so swimmingly at this point.  With practice, Gogonji found forcing back the memories and drawing only the knowledge and experiences easier and easier. Neither the ancient Scholar nor the Sultana-lusting Roegadyn's thoughts impeded his own anymore when using the Awakener. They were still there, of course, but he had constructed a sort of confinement space within his own mental psyche into which he channeled them and locked them away as soon as his fingers touched that clear casing.

 

The elder Gegenji child's swordsmanship was improving as well, albeit at the same sluggish-but-noticeable rate of his much more familiar Scholastic abilities. He had opted for finding himself a second-hand training dummy and using that over an opponent that could and most likely would give him beatings in a jealous attempt to stymie his advancement. He was finding the blade more and more comfortable in his hands, though he was still struggling some with translating the combat skills of the ancient Hellsguard into something usable by someone of his own stature. Not to mention that the training dummy  was obnoxious to have sitting so close next to his desk, taking up valuable book space.

 

That was another matter that was becoming troublesome, the proximity required to the Awakener. As he had noted before, his skills while in contact with it still seemed so many leagues further ahead than the minute improvements and fuzzy recollections that he retained afterward. Gogonji often found himself wishing that he could maintain further contact with the Awakener, that he could somehow streamline the device and have it such that he could carry it with him. For, while this did seem an improved method to gather knowledge from the Soul Crystals, the Doman Lalafell's calculating mind couldn't help but consider the potential of having that knowledge ready to be accessed anywhere with the merest flip of a switch.

 

Already Gogonji had started musing in earnest on this concept. Along with the original blueprints of the Awakener, many more sheets of parchment had found a resting place atop his desk. Upon them were rough designs of a more compact version, from a sort of miniature backpack device to a more fantastical piece that looked no larger than one of the pouches strapped to his arm in his ivory replica of an ancient Scholar's jacket. In the white space, notes were scribbled around sketches of lightning crystals; short messages to himself about how much the wiring and crystal load could be reduced if all Soul Crystals activated within the 80-81 millilmramz range. In fact, if he had multiple devices for multiple Soul Crystals, he could just have them set to only provide the amount of electrical energy needed, which reduced the components needed even further.

 

Gogonji was taking a break from that at the moment, however. He was currently in the middle of another experiment with the Awakener, and he was already on his fifth bell doing it. The test was both related to his other idea, as well as one somewhat of just personal curiosity: just how long could one remain in contact with an awakened Crystal without suffering some sort of ill effects? What ill effects could there be?

 

The Soul Crystal he was using for this particular experiment something much more mundane - one he had acquired from the remnants of a fading tribal Miqo'te clan that carried little more than knowledge of fire dances and other ritual displays performed before and after their beastly hunts. It, like the other two, had activated within that same Golden Range - 80.1, in fact - which strengthened his theories on being able to limit the band of provided electrical energy to the 80-81 range. He had actually made some of his more recent notes while under the influence of this new stone, which had led to some amusing identification of a slight reduction in the quality of his handwriting that he was easily able to counteract.

 

Really, the biggest issue he was finding was keeping himself busy during the time trial. The huge batch of tea that Ezra had brewed for him before he started the experiment was already long gone, ingested and converted into the contents of the bedpan he had acquired for this purpose. A mite unsanitary and barbaric, yes, but he couldn't let his test be foiled by something as simplistic as bodily functions. He was certainly going to dispose of it with the utmost haste once he was done, however. For it was a filthy, embarrassing, crude little hunk of metal.

 

The rest of the time was mostly wiled away with reading and note-taking, which could easily be done with either one or no hands. The few texts he could find on Magiteknology had been combed over more than once already, and the information gleaned from them was what most likely attributed to the slight improvements to his concept sketches of the mobile Awakener. Actual machinists might still need to make corrections and adjustments before it could actually be made into something workable, but at least it wouldn't be the graffiti-level annotations that had been made on the Awakener's original blueprints.

 

The chronometer chimed. Five bells exactly, and with no discernible ill effects. Gogonji mused on this, tossing a bound up scroll idly in his hand in a manner not unlike the fire-sticks the Miqo'te tribals performed with. He had taken to the habit just before the fourth bell, doing so between taking notes and turning pages. He had initially been concerned, but when the impulse was as easily quelled and locked away as the memories from within the stone, his worry had subdued greatly.

 

Now it was more of an additional time waster, and the Lalafell found some minor amusement in trying to toss up the scroll and turn the page of a tome whilst the rolled-up parchment was still airborne. Four successes so far, with several discarded scrolls along the floor attributing to just how many failures had been interspersed betwixt those victories. He was getting better at it, but he'd either need to gather up the escaped scrolls later or acquire more parchment. If only he could summon Ezra to help in the effort, and brew more tea.

 

Gogonji paused in his one-handed juggling, another scroll tumbling to join the others as it clattered and bounced before rolling to freedom.

 

Why couldn't he?

 

Certainly, using Soul Crystals was something one couldn't just do whenever they wanted, or he would've come across some sort of text or treatise mentioning how they interacted with each other or something of the like that would've mentioned the possibility. If the eldest Gegenji child had to guess, it might just be due to the weak link between user and crystal. He could only assume that the connection was normally far too tentative to try to maintain more than one at the same time.

 

Normally.

 

With his Awakener, this was no longer a normal situation.

 

Gogonji's free hand was almost shaking as he scrambled for his original Soul Crystal, waiting quietly on the desk next to both the device and the newer Paladin stone. His fingers traced over the familiar contours as he drew it too himself, holding it tightly in his grasp. Even though artifically attuned as he was to the Firedancer crystal as he was, he could still make out the weakest of connections with the fragment of crystallized Scholastic memory. Seizing upon that feeling, the Lalafell scrambled to hold both crystal and quill in hand as he drew his formula book closer to him with an eager elbow.

 

The formulae and runes he drew were the same ones he always had, motions that came clearly enough even through the haze of additional knowledge. But bending his aetheric energies into it to call forth the Fairy? That proved to be much more difficult, even with the crystal itself right there as his focus. The text would flare as it always would, and he could feel the aether be drawn to him and start to coalesce into the shape of his diminutive companion, but it would gather into little more than a mote of glowing light before sputtering out.

 

He tried again, the mote becoming larger before disappearing with an almost audible popping sound. The third and fourth times, one could easily have assumed he was trying to summon a will-o-wisp rather than a Fairy. It was only on the fifth time that the energies started to properly coalesce into Ezra's lithe form.

 

She looked about, ringing lightly in confusion as she took in her surroundings. She pressed worriedly at the walls of the glimmering orb that encased her, which bent around her fingers like a thin membrane. Yet it would not yield, let her cross the boundary and fully manifest. All that Gogonji could do was stare transfixed at her with focused determination as he sought to force the aetheric energies to bend to his will and permit her full access to his side of the veil.

 

But it was not to be. With an alarmed chime, Ezra vanished like the motes of light before her, leaving her master alone again in his musty miniature library. And the Lalafell was not in too great of a shape either, almost dropping both quill and Soul Crystal as his body slumped back in his seat and finally broke contact with the Awakener. He felt... drained, weaker than he had ever felt before. And he was including that earlier incident when he had been beaten to a pulp by an irate Highlander at the Gladiator's Guild.

 

Yet, unlike that incident, he was smiling in spite of his absolute weariness. While he had not successfully managed to summon Ezra fully, Gogonji had come close... so very close. Quite the feat indeed, all things considered, and it was all thanks to the power of his Awakener. And, from that vaulting point, he could not help but silently wonder: what if he had two?

 

His tired violet eyes flitted over the earlier designs, the concepts for the smaller, more mobile Awakener that lay scattered out before him. His original plan was to drain what little resources he had left into getting a prototype of it made, to test it on its lonesome and see how it compared to its hulking older sibling. But now, now he found himself adding another item to the mental list of things to try should the device prove itself: to use it and the original prototype in conjunction. He was able to subdue the mind and memories of one Awakened crystal, perhaps soon enough he would see if his mind was strong enough to handle two.

[Gegenji]

So! How was your holiday weekend? Mine was pretty good. Looking forward to 2.5, if you're not already neck deep in it already? I am!

 

However, I can't access it right now, so instead have the next segment of Gogonji's tale. We're quickly coming up on a culminating point, which will probably hit in the next bit. I worry that it's a bit too obvious and possibly cliched, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

 

But that's for later. For now, I hope you enjoy the segment I have for you right now! Along with the obligatory "easily-replaced-with-something-better" background music:

 

DYujMwtBMaM

 

As always, feel free to point out glaring lore errors, smaller things I'm doing wrong, or perhaps even what I'm doing right. :blush:

 

(Also tintinnabular is an amazing word, thank you dictionary.com.)

 

 

Gogonji adjusted the mobile Awakener unit that he had cinched to uppermost part of his right arm, which he had extracted from his jacket to allow for more direct contact with the crystal chamber. Within the case, already filled with ceruleum, sat his Scholar Soul Crystal while the Paladin Soul Crystal lay nestled in the original Awakener unit. He had gone through the same arduous testing with the mobile Awakener unit - which he found himself desperately needed a proper name for, if for nothing else than to be able to stop just continually referring to it by its relation to its older sibling - as he had with the original prototype on its lonesome. In fact, he had been all but forced to test it before those simpletons at the Garlond Ironworks would even let him out of the building.

 

It had been easy enough to sway them with gil and promises of credit with the original prototype - it was big and bulky and he was supplying all the materials, along with being a vague, untested thing. While they were initially curious with the designs and helped with some improvements to components that made sense to them, the whole thing seemed like it would be a flop and a money-sink that they cared little about beyond the money going into their own grubby pockets. Now that he was on a smaller, more streamlined second iteration with improved technical specs wrought from his own personal study, they were suddenly much more interested. After all, they had originally dismissed his brilliance as the babbling of a nutter with a half-cocked idea and too much gil to throw around... and now they potentially had something quite valuable on their hands. They weren't going to be so easily deterred with gil and a few empty promises this time around.

 

It turned into a miniature lecture hall, where Gogonji was the professor to a class of vision-less dullards. He explained how the ceruleum acted as a a substitute for a body's natural aetheric composition, the lightning crystals the body's natural electrical current, and the Soul Crystal itself as the heart of it all. A few of them had been intrigued by the inner workings and details and missing the overarching goal the device sought to achieve, a few others just started blankly and just a few steps removed from drooling. One had gone those few steps and beyond, having fallen asleep at some point during the Lalafell's in-depth dissertation on the quantification of one's aetheric make-up.

 

It didn't matter, though, in the end they wanted a demonstration with the finished mobile device, and the bulk of their Roegadyn employees made refusing them seem unwise. He had used the Paladin Soul Crystal then, challenging one of them to a mock sword fight before and after the device was activated. Of course, many of them called him a charlatan - stating, truthfully enough, that he could've just been faking his inability to fence before the activation of the device. They demanded further proof.

 

So, he decided to oblige them.  After all, he still needed to see if his ability to utilize the Awakener was due to his access to the Echo or something even the common uneducated plebeian could benefit from. He called for a volunteer and strapped his mobile Awakener unit to the Midlander's arm. Leaving it off, he tested the fellow's ability to wield a blade - which was not unlike his own at the start of this grand project. It was only after setting that baseline that the Awakener was switched on, with a few half-hearted warnings about a Hellsguard pining for a dead Sultana muttered just before the flick of the switch.

 

The man staggered a little bit, but said that he wasn't having any of "those goofball delusions" that Gogonji had alluded to. Instead, his descriptions of how he felt were much closer to those stages when his own Scholar Soul Crystal had opened up to him and allowed him to partake of one of its hidden secrets. This was further verified when, in doing another test of his fencing skill, he almost instinctively fell into the offensive Paladin stance colloquially known as the "Sword Oath." When pressed on the other side of the coin, the defensive "Shield Oath," he returned little more than a blank look and a witless shrug of the shoulders.

 

It was around then that the Lalafell divested the fool of his wondrous creation before he damaged it in any way, and filed away the knowledge he had gained. It seemed the device did work for those without access to the Echo, but it merely let them bypass the Soul Crystal's choosy attunement process. Which meant that, given an Awakener and a Soul Crystal, one could be bootstrapped into learning any of the lost jobs of Hydaelyn. If only the stones themselves weren't so rare and closely guarded, and the component cost of creating an Awakener not so prohibitively expensive. Gogonji alone had only been able to afford the creation of this one by almost draining the entirety of his remaining liquid assets, leaving such a gadget as little more than a trinket for some greedy Monetarist with no understanding of its true capability.

 

On the plus side, this meant that the Ironworks' interest in the device quickly faded when there didn't seem to be any feasible market for it. And, as long as they got their cut of the profits, they would freely make more for him... if the horrendously expensive base materials were brought to them, bought with his own coin. A willing group of trained opo-opos willing to help in his ventures for a banana or two. It seemed like a sound enough agreement, all things considered.

 

And now, Gogonji was on the threshold of tapping into that hidden potential that those fools couldn't even comprehend, that they couldn't even access. He flipped his mobile unit on and embraced the wash of memories of that ancient Scholar for a moment before shoving that mind away into the cage waiting for it in his subconscious. A few quick gestures and Ezra was at his side, jingling and chiming in curiosity at her master's new arm-borne accessory. The Lalafell had made all his previous discoveries more or less on his lonesome, and he was feeling rather eager to show them off to one of the few individuals he felt could really understand his brilliance.

 

"Look, Ezra! I already tap into the forgotten knowledge of Nym with this device," he explained excitedly, as giddy as a child as he motioned to the mobile Awakener. "And now, I will obtain the knowledge of a long-deceased 'Sworn through the original unit."

 

Activating the original prototype had become almost second nature at this point, given how many runs Gogonji had done with it. In no time at all it hummed to life, the dial set and the symbol on the rock within the ceruleum bath gently aglow. The Lalafell had unconsciously steepled his fingers eagerly as he watched, sending a few glances Ezra's way as if to silently say "See! See! It's going to work!" The Fairy herself just gave a confused metallic chirp and canted her head slightly to one side.

 

"Of course it's safe!" the eldest Gegenji child responded dismissively, his left hand already hovering over the glass of the central core. "I've already familiarized myself to the souls asleep in both stones. If I can so easily conquer both separately, subduing them together should require little more than the smallest increase of effort."

 

Ezra didn't seem too convinced, and gave another worried chime.

 

"It'll be fine, Ezra," Gogonji impressed upon her as he himself impressed his fingertips upon the original Awakener's central unit. In a flash, the Sultansworn's memories flooded into him, and they were forcibly directed down into the subconscious cell with the Scholar. The Lalafell felt a thump of sorts emanate from his head and reverberate through his body, as if he had bumped headfirst into a closed door. Annoying, obnoxious, but nothing overtly dangerous. And it was gone soon enough, leaving wonderment in its wake. "Ezra, my sword; quickly now."

 

The Doman Dunesfolk stared blankly forward as the Fairy flitted off to get the dingy blade he had purchased back when he obtained the Paladin Soul Crystal. He had wanted to replace it with a finer blade, but the mobile Awakener unit had been a much larger financial priority. And it seemed to have been the proper choice, as both the tactics of a strategist who plotted away from the front merged with those of a brute of a man who knew that blood-soaked theater far too well. Violet eyes looked upon the cheap blade that was brought to him with both the distaste of the man forced to wield it, and the tactician who knew far too well the importance of an army's equipment. With a monumental sigh, Gogonji forced down this ethereal bile and took hold of the weapon.

 

"Now..." Gogonji breathed. "Watch."

 

His motions with the sword were as if he were using the Paladin stone on its lonesome, though the occasional tactical musing slipped in from the Scholastic side on how it could be improved. With a few quick flourishes, the Lalafell scratched a few simple mathemagical formulae into the side of a nearby bookcase with the tip of the blade. All the while, the smile under that jade mustache of his grew wider and wider. In his zeal, Gogonji removed his hand from the original Awakener to draw the runes onto the blade itself with his fingertip, and the Paladin knowledge faded away into fuzziness. In his rush to complete the action before the Hellsguard's experiences had completely left him, the Dunesfolk's digit slipped and bit into the edge of the blade itself.

 

"Chikusho!"

 

The blade clattered to the floor, discarded and forgotten as Gogonji stuck the injured finger into his mouth to stem the flow of coppery-tasting crimson. Ezra was upon him in an instant, her tintinnabular cries of concern filling the musty air of the shack. After much coaxing, she managed to get the Lalafell to present the injured finger, and the wound was quickly sealed up under her gentle healing touch. This didn't keep Gogonji from giving it a few test flexes afterward, though, despite his trust in his little partner's healing prowess.

 

"See? Told you it would be fine," he stated, almost jokingly. He was rebutted with a litany of angry jingling, and he raised both hands up in surrender with a wry smile. "Sorry, sorry. Look, that was user error. I broke contact with the base unit - it wouldn'tve happened if I had two mobile ones."

 

How like him, Ezra must've thought - he had just managed a mostly successful test and the Lalafell was already looking into the future, not content to just bask in the victory he had just had. His mind was going over how he was going to re-accrue the funds necessary to create a second mobile Awakener. His mother's economic lectures came foremost to his mind - perhaps a little playing of the markets was in order. Not to mention he still had a few favors he could call in for some materials that a few buyers would be certainly willing to drop a pretty gil on. He wanted to save that for a rainy day, though.

 

No need to rush, of course, even though his goals lingered so close to achievement that he could taste them. He just needed his second mobile Awakener to fully test the extent of both sets of knowledge, and so he could comfortably gauge any long-term effects from maintaining more than one attunement. If those all went according to plan, he could be on a ship back to Doma the next sun, ready to shove his findings into his archaic father's dour face.

 

Then he would see. Then he would understand. Then he would accept his son's brilliance.

 

Then he could truly return home.

[Gegenji]

Well, here we are, I guess. The part of the story I'm pretty sure everyone knew was going to happen. At least, I think so. Maybe it just seems obvious since I knew this scene was going to happen at some point, it was just a matter of getting there. And I kinda feel like a terrible person for doing this to Gogon, but I feel even worse knowing what's to come.

 

All the parts were the rise, the climb to the top of the hill with his boulder. And now begins the unstoppable rolling back down. And, as such, I feel that there's only one music piece that really fits, as horribly predictable as it might also be:

 

a9MMZEl5cUI

 

A requiem indeed...

 

 

The boat ride to Othard was quiet enough, especially once Gogonji found a secluded little corner below-decks to squirrel himself into. The two mobile Awakeners - which he had finally given the name "Rouser" after several parchments' worth of scratched-out ideas, both in Eorzean and Doman - were hidden under the sleeves of his jacket, the cool metallic devices pressed against the bare flesh beneath. He had enough problems with the Ironworks' goons asking insipid questions, he didn't need it from the unwashed masses as well.

 

Wanting to avoid such mind-degrading conversation was also the reasoning behind leaving Ezra un-summoned, as much as the Dunesfolk would have appreciated her company amongst the rabble. He instead immersed himself in either the memories of the two Soul Crystals housed in his Rousers - which he took to as one might go to see a play - or going over notes and formulae in his tome. His latest quandary was how to precisely present his discoveries in such a way that his stubborn father couldn't help but accept and praise him for his foresight. It was surprisingly difficult, mostly due to the fact that it had been years since he had seen his bullheaded father and, even if he had remained mostly the same, even the slightest changes could throw off his predictions.

 

Of course, his father was not the only thing he was eager to see - he also thought of little Chachanji, the youngest of the three Gegenji children. The little popoto would always follow him around, tugging at his pants leg and asking him to come play. And more than once the elder brother had made excuses for the younger, either to get his kin out of trouble or to slip away for a moment's freedom from the burden of his relentless conditioning and training. He had been expected to take over the family business once his father grew too frail to continue, after all, which meant there were decidedly few moments that weren't spent either in front of a forge or learning how to read market trends. So what rare escapes he had, he had grasped onto dearly.

 

And when he was unable to make such getaways, he would instead live vicariously through little Chachanji. One of his favorite pastimes before his abrupt departure was to ask his little brother to tell him of what heroic adventures he had gone on that day, since the youngest Gegenji's workload was so much lighter than his own. In return, he'd be regaled with fanciful stories of battling demons and dragons and other such monsters within the absolute safety of their backyard. They were simple, childish tales, but Gogonji always enjoyed hearing every one, even if his dour expressions failed to properly convey it. As the ship pulled into port, the eldest Gegenji found himself wondering how many such tales his little brother might have saved up for him in the interim.

 

So eager was he to go and see his family that Gogonji failed to notice the worried looks and exclamations from those who saw the direction in which he was headed. They were just common-folk, after all, so why would he care about their opinions when he had family and a bright future waiting for him in Doma? It was only as he passed more and more people fleeing in the opposite direction that the situation pierced through his halcyon haze and a chilling sense of dread began to creep into the Lalafell's very being.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Something was horribly wrong.

 

He spurred his horse more earnestly, hoping that the sight of his homeland would quell the worries that started to gnaw ever more fiercely on his soul. The stallion's nostrils flared and his hooves dug deep into the dirt roads as the Dunesfolk urged him on, kicking up clods of earth and grass in his wake. Such was his rush that those still fleeing from his destination were forced to dive out of the horse's way of risk being trampled. He heard their cries of alarm, for the ears that had ignored the chatter before now listened all too closely.

 

He needed to know more. What had happened. When it happened. Why it happened. He needed more information, and it came in bits and pieces carried along the wind.

 

Garlemald. Attack. Doma. Razed. Fire.

 

Fire.

 

Fire.

 

"No..."

 

Fire is what greeted Gogonji when he finally arrived to his home. Or the remnants of a much larger fire, at least, with little smaller smouldering patches scattered amongst ash and the skeletal remains of houses that jutted out of them. Even though it had been years, fear and desperation brought the way back home back to vivid focus. In under half a bell, the Lalafell was home... or what was left of it.

 

"No." He repeated. "No no no..."

 

He slid off his horse, promptly forgot he had even ridden in on one. The charred ruins of his home encompassed his everything. He took a step forward, then another, and then he was stumbling and rushing towards the smouldering heap. His violet eyes darted from familiar spot to familiar spot - where his bedroom used to be, to the blackened forge that even now stood like a gravestone marker amongst the rest of the debris. Looking for some sign, any sign that his family had survived the fire. But there was ever so much rubble to get through, and he was only one small Lalafell.

 

"This... this wasn't supposed to..." he found himself murmuring, as if his words alone could change the truth before him. "This... this can't..."

 

Gogonji wasn't sure how long he had dug, his hands blackened in soot and covered in cuts and scrapes. All he knew what that he finally uncovered something - the tattered remains of his brother's Chocobo pajamas. Little Chachanji had always loved the idea of the horsebirds native to their mother's homeland of Eorzea. Gogonji could still hear the squeal of joy when the little tyke received the pajamas as a Namesday gift - pulling them on almost as soon as they were out of the wrapping. He was the oddest looking thing then, looking like some squat little man-bird with his dopey little smiling face atop it...

 

... And now all that was left was blackened tatters held tightly in blackened fingers.

 

"Hey, looks like we got us a straggler," came a laugh from behind. "Whassamatter? Lost something?"

 

Garlean. He could tell by the accent alone, familiar enough with it thanks to the years of his father selling his wares to them. At reduced rates, no less, in order to appease them and avoid any conflict. Finely crafted Doman weapons and armors purchased to be little more than talking pieces or hamfistedly swung about by their oppressors as war trophies. Oppressors that had just burned his home down.

 

The nervousness and anxiety, the tension and fear in his mind had been like a bowstring pulled taut ever since he had goaded his horse into a full gallop. It was an intense pressure at the back of his mind that refused to relent. At the sound of the voice, though, at the footsteps as they drew closer and steel was drawn... at the laughter...

 

It just... snapped.

 

"Now, howsabout you stand up and turn around, nice and slow," the Garlean stated, waggling his saber his emphasis. "I want to see your fa--"

 

What was next out of his mouth was not words, but blood. His blue eyes looked down in shock at the cheap blade that now pierced his stomach, his gaze trailing along its length to the hunched figure of the Lalafell that was wielding it. It had been masterfully placed - giving the man just enough time to realize what exactly had happened before he went into shock and slumped forward. The blade retracted with a hiss - though if it was from the blade or the attacker, it was hard to say - and Gogonji sidestepped the corpse as it fell.

 

The Garlean wasn't stupid, of course, and had not come alone. Or perhaps he was - for he had done little more than lead more lambs to the slaughter. And like lambs they were as Gogonji's gaze slowly rose to look at them, the two Rousers burning brightly beneath his sleeves. Almost as brightly as the complete and utter hate burning in those violet orbs for the pieces of disgusting chaff that stood before him.

 

"Stop hi--!"

 

The order to attack never completed, the Garlean soldier's throat seizing and choking on the deathly contagion that engulfed him before being spread amongst the rest like a pestilent cloud. The Dunesfolk wasn't unobliging as he snapped his tome shut, however, and closed the gap for them. Gogonji had two souls who knew well the ways of war at his disposal, locked away in his psyche and desperate to be released, and he was more than willing to let them come to the fore and aid him in slaughtering every...

 

Single.

 

Last.

 

ONE OF THEM.

[Gegenji]

This piece actually kinda wrote itself after the events of the last one. One could probably easily see the goal Gogon is going for here, and one piece of it fit in rather nicely given the circumstances the eldest Gegenji child was left in during the last bit.

 

Considering I wanted something fitting for a stormy situation, I did a quick search for appropriate music to write to. Of course, most of the results were Rainy Mood style "relaxing rain sounds" dealies. I did manage to find something interesting though, which I share with you:

 

sz60znmVUaM

 

 

A figure flitted from rooftop to rooftop, the rare Thanalan rainstorm not enough to cause him to pause for even a moment in his movements. The heavy cloak and hood was enough to protect him from the downpour, with the few raindrops that made it past his cowl splattering against the protective ridges of his Garlean-style goggles. The Brass Blades stuck trudging around on their late night rounds weren't so lucky, and several muttered profanities and other curses floated up to him when they weren't drowned out by the din of the rain.

 

Also hidden away were Gogonji's Rousers, still tucked under the sleeves of his jacket. The Scholar Soul Crystal was still snug in its usual place, if unactive due to it not being needed at the moment, but a new one glimmered darkly in the place of the Paladin stone. One of those Garlean savages had taken it as a trophy off the corpse of one of his countrymen, and now it was safely back in Doman hands. It was the Ninja's knowledge that kept him surefooted atop the rooftops of Ul'dah.

"

 

The voice was small, curious, eager as it piped up in Doman. The question caused the Dunesfolk to stagger a bit, stumbling sideways a couple steps and forcing him to run bodily into a chimney or risk slipping over the side to a far worse fate. He hissed a soft curse as his shoulder hit the still-warm brick, and then irate violet orbs scanned the surroundings from behind lenses of crimson. He was alone up on this rooftop, so where had that voice come from? It sounded like...

 

No, he was dead. They were all dead, thanks to those three-eyed bastards. Gogonji had gone over the ruins of his homeland with a fine-toothed comb, hunting down and eliminating every single Garlean he came across. The Ninja Soul Crystal had been one reward for his efforts, the goggles another, but it still wasn't enough. A fire still burned through him, a rage that was not yet quelled. Garlemald had not suffered enough for what they had done.

 

The hooded Lalafell took to moving again, purpose driving his steps. He was only one man, there was little he could do on his own to bring about the justice he felt was so owed to him. So he did what he had always done - read, done research, planned. Yet, books and tomes were sluggish compared to what a Soul Crystal could bring through his Rousers. So here he was, seeking another stone steeped in blood and knowledge of battle.

 

The Ossuary seemed statuesque enough from his vantage point as he stopped to catch his breath. Within were various tomes, all filled with knowledge on twisting aether for combat purposes. They would find themselves a few texts lighter come the sunrise, if this went as well as the Dunesfolk had planned it. Along with that, a few well-greased palms had resulted in an interesting tidbit of information: that locked within their vaults was the crystallized knowledge of a forbidden magic. A skill to forcibly draw upon the world's aether rather than one's own in order to bring destruction upon one's foes, as devised by the great mage Shantotto.

 

Black Magic.

 

One of Nald'thal's acolytes stood at the door, looking rather miserable to be stuck with this position after spilling coffee on one of the Ossuary's texts. He'd be lucky if he didn't come down with a cold after being forced to stand out in this storm. A sneeze shook the Plainsfolk's frame, and he rubbed dejectedly at his nose. So much for not coming down with a cold. He drew his heavy robes closer about him.

 

A flash of lightning lit up the street, followed by a rumble of thunder. The suddenness of it startled the acolyte, the jerking up of his large head causing his equally large wide-brim hat to cast off the not unsubstantial amount of rainwater that had collected upon it. A small hand gripped at his chest as he sought to catch his breath. Lightning, just lightning; it was okay, he was fine. He affirmed his thoughts by grimly readjusting his hat.

 

He had just gotten it how he liked it when he heard a quiet splash. Or, at least, he thought he did. His blue eyes quickly scanned the empty streets in front of him, in search of the source of the sound. All he could see through the gloom and the sheets of rain was the dull glow of the few lanterns still lit in this Twelve-damned rainstorm. Like anyone would be dumb enough to be out on these streets if they weren't forced to, like him. Actually, perhaps that was what it had been - one of the Blades stuck weathering this storm like him.

 

It was a bit of a comforting thought, thinking that he wasn't the only poor fool stuck getting drenched out here. The Plainsfolk settled back a bit against the wall, hoping what little overhang he had would keep at least a little bit of the rain off him. At least, he had meant to back into the wall. Instead, he bumped into another person.

 

"Wha--?" The acolyte's question was cut short as he was grabbed roughly about the wrists and slammed bodily into the wet wall of the Ossuary. The flash of pain in his head and behind his eyes was mirrored by another bolt of lightning overhead. The Plainsfolk didn't get much time to bemoan his sudden headache, though, as cold steel against his throat was suddenly a much more pressing concern.

 

"Key."

 

"Wh-what?"

 

Another flash of pain as he was yanked back and slammed headfirst into the wall again.

 

"KEY."

 

"R-right pants pocket!" the Lalafell yelped as the knife drew a drop of crimson from his flesh. The hand on his wrist vanished, but the shoulder pressed to his back and the blade at his throat hinted clearly enough that trying to take advantage of this fact would be quite lethal. That hand roughly jammed itself into the Plainsfolk's pocket, feeling around until it found what it was looking for. The key to the Ossuary's main door jangled lightly against the monotonous din of the rain as it, rather unwillingly, changed hands.

 

"Th-there... ya... ya got what ya wanted..." the acolyte pleaded meekly, trying to turn his head slightly towards his assailant. "So... so howsabout ya just let me go and we can both be on our wa--"

 

CRACK. His head met the Ossuary wall sideways this time. Something wet dribbled along the side of his head, and the Plainsfolk wasn't sure if it was rain or blood. He wasn't quite sure of much, actually, since the collision had knocked most reasonable thought out of him. It was really only his attacker's hold keeping him on his feet at this point.

 

Gogonji grabbed the other Lalafell roughly by the clump of hair that escaped from the confines of his wide-brimmed hat, yanking his head backwards and revealing his throat more clearly to the rainy night sky. His goggled gaze sought out the man's jugular and his knife was soon pressed against it. One simple cut and there would be no one to speak of his arrival here.

""

 

The Dunesfolk hesitated, small crimson rivulets beginning to run down his captive's neck. His head whipped around to search for the source of that familiar voice. Again, he found nothing - just him, the relentless rain hammering down from overhead, and the terrified Plainsfolk. He returned his attentions again to the latter, who was wide-eyed, fearful gaze was pointed sideways at him. Not that the acolyte would see much with the hood, goggles, and scarf all but concealing his face under cloth, glass, and shadow. He pressed the knife earnestly against the other Lalafell's neck again, but... he had lost interest in killing him.

 

"Speak of me, and you will regret it."

 

"Wh-wha--?"

 

Another slam against the wall sent the acolyte spiraling into bloody unconsciousness. A quick switch to his Scholar crystal to ensure the stupid fool wouldn't bleed out, and Gogonji left the passed-out Plainsfolk curled up against the wall. To any onlooker, it would seem as if the robed Lalafell had simply fallen asleep at his post. As for his assailant, he would quietly unlock the door and slip into the dry sanctity of the Ossuary. He still had much to do this night, after all.

[Gegenji]

This was another bit that... kinda wrote itself. Not like a few of the earlier pieces. More like I had an initial idea and I started writing it down on WordPad as I am wont to do... and then Gogon kinda stole the reins away from me. And, really, I'm kinda glad he did.

 

I always mentioned how Chachan learned Physick from his brother. Almost insistently so when I emote him using it. Yet, while I had the scene where it happened floating around in my head, I never put it down to paper. Plus, I could even explain why the little dork continues to call Arcanima "bookmagic." I might have to include the little "incantation" at some point as well, as cheesy as it is.

 

All this from switching a generic bratty retainer for a brief cameo of a timid clerk I created for another RP. Suddenly I have the groundwork for a scene where Gogon could reflect back on that day. And sink ever deeper into his own sorrow at his loss. Wow, made myself sad again. Derp.

 

Anyway, the song was actually chosen after-the-fact, so I hope you still enjoy it.

 

nZihzr-23ww

 

 

It was busy at the illustrious Bismarck this sun, though not overly so; just enough to meld the various conversations going on into a sort of incomprehensible din of comment, retort, and the occasional piercing giggle. It almost mixed flawlessly with the sounds of the waves hitting the ivory outcroppings of rock that the Limsa Lominsa had been carved out of. And it was at a lone table tucked away from all the aimless chatter that Gogonji sat with a cup of tea and a length of ticker tape. The former purchased from the Bismarck itself, the latter brought to him by request from the Arcanist's Guild by some stuttering little slip of a Plainsfolk - Oriri or something. The Dunesfolk paid it little mind, though, since he had more important matters to attend to than remembering the name of some timid little clerk who couldn't even wrap her tiny mind around a basic Ruin equation.

 

Seriously, what kind of dunce couldn't even figure out...

 

CLANG!

 

The sound of metal hitting skull was wince-inducing, and Gogonji dropped his hammer in surprise. He confusion turned to worry and then to fear when he heard his younger brother burst into tears. He was away from the forge in an instant, his tongs left to melt away under the oppressive heat within. He fell upon little Chachanji like a mother couerl rescuing her kitten.

 

"

 

"" Chachanji managed to stutter out between choked sobs and sniffles before returning to bawling again. A close glance showed that the kid's tough skull had absorbed most of the blow, and there wasn't any visible damage besides a sizable lump at the point of impact. Didn't seem like it even fractured his skull any. Probably got the hardheadedness from their father, Gogonji thought with a silent chuckle.

 

Speaking of their father, the Gegenji patriarch would've needed to be near deaf not to hear the wails that little Chachanji had belted out. The boy was supposed to be making up the homework their mother had assigned him, not fiddling around with Zozonji's finished products. If their father found him here like this, he would get a severe tongue-lashing from both parents.

 

"" Gogonji cooed, gently running his hand through his brother's hair like his mother used to do for him on sleepless nights. While it did little to lessen the pain of the swelling bump, the ministrations at least reduced Chachanji to quiet hiccups and sniffles. ""

 

"

 

Gogonji nodded. After finding a few tattered books on Nym and arcanima, the eldest Gegenji child had been quietly trying to learn it in whatever free time he could manage amongst his hefty schedule of lectures and training. He had been keeping it under wraps thus far, of course - since he was fairly certain his father would be against anything that didn't involve shaping him to become the new family head - but this was not only a chance to put his practice to the test, but to help his little brother as well.

 

"

 

""

 

Gogonji immediately went to work, drawing upon his aetheric energies to draw a few symbols on the air between them. It left small trails of silvery light in its wake, which reflected clearly in his brother's wide, violet eyes. The formula was that of a "Physick" - or, at least, a simplified version for beginners of arcanima he had found in one of the tomes he had secreted into the house. Still, considering the look on Chachanji's face, he might as well be about to summon a dragon out of the forge.

 

"" the eldest Gegenji child murmured in a hokey, faux incantation sort of way as he brushed those silver-dipped fingertips along the bump. Like melted iron, the aether pooled out from his touch and spread over the injury. Within moments, the lump slowly shrank away to nothingness, leaving little Chachanji looking as hale as he had been before the accident. Well, minus the amazed look plastered on his freckled features.

 

"" He quickly patted at the spot on his head where the bump had been. Once he had fully confirmed that the lump had vanished, he snatched out eagerly at his brother's fingers to get a closer look at the light glow on them as it faded into nothingness. It was only once that silvery light was gone altogether that those violet orbs snapped up to look at his older brother. "

 

"" Gogonji responded smugly, wriggling his fingers in his sibling's face. ""

 

Any further bragging was cut short by the heavy footfalls of their father fast approaching the forge. Gogonji had managed to deal with one part of the problem. Now he just needed to figure out how to explain his brother's presence here rather than in his room where he was supposed to be. The fact that Chachanji continued to chirp and pester him about his arcanima wasn't helping matters either.

 

"

 

"Refresh your tea?"

 

The simple question jerked Gogonji back from his memories and he looked about wildly for a moment. That's right, he was at the Bismarck in Limsa Lominsa. Not back home with his brother and the rest of his family. That was gone. They... were gone.

 

"H-hai," the green-haired Dunesfolk managed, staring down at his long-cooled tea.

 

"Yes, hello," the waitress responded curtly, she was busy enough without having to deal with a Lalafell intent on greetings. "Tea? Yes or no?"

 

"O-oh, err... y-yes please," Gogonji corrected himself, turning his attentions back to the ticker tape in the hopes to force back the blush of embarrassment creeping over his features. He needed to focus on the numbers anyway - gathering the necessary funds to construct more Rousers was not a simple process. The more he had, the more of his slowly growing collection of Soul Crystals he could carry with him to adapt to any situation. And he'd need that sort of flexibility for the plan that was slowly forming in his mind.

 

More Soul Crystals meant more knowledge meant more power, and he would need it all. Every last onze of it he could acquire. All to ensure that he could take revenge on the black-hearted nation that so flippantly took that his wide-eyed little brother away from him. That annoying, clingy, useless, lovable little...

 

"Um... sir?"

 

Gogonji blinked. He hadn't noticed his tightened grip had torn the ticker tape in two. Just as he hadn't noticed the wetness that even now dribbled down his cherub-like Lalafellan cheeks.

 

"N-nothing! It's nothing!" the Dunesfolk snapped. "Just leave me be!"

 

"Yes, sir," the waitress responded flippantly, more than happy to be away from the weird little Lalafell. A sharp turn on her heel and she strutted away with tea pot in hand. No doubt to go whisper amongst her vapid friends about the midget who started crying for no reason at one of her tables. She wouldn'tve understood, none of the Eorzean Alliance seemed to, considering how they all turned away the refugees one after the other. Why would they care about a bunch of destitute, desperate Domans forced out of their homes, their homeland, by the very enemy that threatened to harm them as well?

 

He'd wake them all up soon enough, though, and force them to see their mistakes. With his Rousers and his plan, he'd shock them awake from their ignorant stupor and bring about the vengeance he sought. The vengeance he wanted. That he... that his countrymen... that his family deserved.

 

He looked down at the torn halves of the ticker tape again.

 

"Chachanji..."

 

""

[Gegenji]

Been a bit since the last post. Busy with things plus a bit of a writer's block on what to do next. I had the beginning, a couple events, and the end planned... it's just the way between them that is a bit murky at times. I should also start keeping track of which Soul Crystals Gogonji has at this point and which ones he doesn't.

 

Prior to this chapter, he has the following combat-related stones: Scholar, Paladin, Ninja, and Black Mage. He likely has a few minor others, to include the firedancer one that was deeply stolen inspired by this RP that I've been quietly following. The whole tribe dynamic they have going is really engrossing and I liked the idea of the firedancers. :blush:

 

But I'm rambling. As you can guess, there's another Crystal involved in this bit, which is going to make the list of those he still has yet to obtain that much shorter. So, I'll just leave you with the accompanying music:

 

yj_wyw6Xrq4

 

 

It was an odd thing, receiving a Soul Crystal directly rather than having to get one through connections, theft, or the hands of the fallen. It had only happened once before, when he had aided in defeating the vengeful king of the tonberries, and received his Scholar stone as his requested "knowledge." Considering the rarity and power of the things, the last thing the Dunesfolk had expected was being freely handed another one. And yet here Gogonji was, in possession of the crystallized memories of an ancient Warrior. Given unto him by an ape of a man named Curious Gorge.

 

There was a lot of words that had come rumbling out of the mountain of a Roegadyn, some of it surprisingly eloquent for a brutish hulk such as him. Words about controlling one's inner beast, and how the Lalafell's great rage was something that needed to be tempered and controlled. Ha, he had no idea how finely tempered Gogonji's rage was. It was like a well-honed blade deep within his breast, ready to be wielded against both the murderers of his people as well as those that refused to aid in the aftermath. He merely needed a plan of attack and the strength to see it through.

 

If that wasn't laughable enough, the fool had muttered aloud about how he had lost himself to something similar in the recent past. That he would compare his bemoaning of a way of life simply fading into obscurity to the razing of Doma and the death of hundreds - not to mention the displacement of hundreds more - was almost comically pathetic. He even went so far as to proclaim that he'd prove his new methods of teaching through "helping" Gogonji, like the Lalafell was a broken wagon wheel that needed mending. The eldest Gegenji child had entertained the thought of striking the fool down to show the yalms of difference between them, but had dismissed it with a shake of his head. He was still formulating his plans, and couldn't risk them over a brief, violent moment of self-indulgence.

 

And so he indulged himself in a different manner, locked away once more in his frigid little cabin with naught but his thoughts and the flitting form of Ezra to keep him company. He had taken to leaving the Rouser with his Scholar stone on at all times, for both the company and the ready access to a tactical mind not unlike his own. He only turned it off in times such as these, when he had a new stone to attune to through the original Awakener. The last time had been with another relatively new stone - collected through the usual means - that he had hunted down after his attunement to the Black Mage crystal. The Summoner crystal had yet to get its own Rouser due to the costs of construction, but already provided ample access to more destructive mathemagical formulae than the ones he had become so accustomed to.

 

And now a method to possibly weaponize the very fury that welled up within him? To bring that tempered blade of anger within his breast and make it manifest? Such thoughts added a certain level of swiftness to his movements as he adjusted the dials for his newest acquisition, goading it to life in short order. Without hesitation, he pressed his fingers against the familiar cold smoothness of the Awakener and plunged into the memories of the soul within.

 

"-rward, continue charging forward!"

 

Gogonji was in already in motion, his muscled mass pounding across the rocky terrain. A few arrows found purchase against his leathery hide, but that only fed his rage. The wordless bellow that he hadn't even realized he was making cut short as he brought his axe 'round in a murderous arc. The archer, to his credit, had enough wherewithal to retreat from the Roegadyn's approach, but his bow now lay sundered on the ground between them. And what was an archer without his bow?

 

He was good as dead, that's what, and the Miqo'te knew it well enough as he retreated as quickly has his skittish feline feet could carry him. Gogonji wasn't about to let him escape that easily, however, and burst into hot pursuit. His opponent's bronze eyes flit back towards him as the Roe's leather-bound feet crunched against the loose assortment of dirt and rock, and quickly started trying to dart and weave around the various outcroppings and obstacles. The cat was agile, Gogonji granted him that much, but he only needed to slip up once and the Warrior's axe would be slaked in blood once more. The Hellsguard found himself grinning at the thought of it.

 

All around him, combat continued to roar. His kinsmen against a tribe of Seekers that had overstepped their boundaries. The young, scar-less Nunh had proudly claimed this stretch of mountain as his, and Gogonji and his well-weathered clan were more than willing to refute that claim. The fleeing Tia was likely silently damning his patriarch for his foolish pride. Or, at least, he should be.

 

The chase rounded a bend, and the aforementioned smooth-skinned Miqo'te stood before him atop a boulder. Of course he was atop a boulder, he was thought himself above everyone else, after all. The weaponless Archer was scampering that way, apparently to seek protection from his leader. What a foolish thought, since Gogonji would simply crush his way through the Nunh to get to him if he had to. And yet, something nagged at his mind.

 

"... -bviously an ambush. Miqo'te archers are likely positioned here and here and..."

An arrow caught him in the shoulder with a solid thunk, and the Hellsguard's red eyes flitted briefly towards the source of the attack. A good dozen female Miqo'te sprouted from the rocks like weeds, their bows drawn and leveled at him. It was only the Nunh's raised hand that kept them from loosing the rest of the arrows. The first had been a warning shot, a show of the Seeker's supposed superiority over the Warrior. Emphasis on supposed, he thought with a grin.

 

"Ngraaaaaaaah!" Gogonji roared as he continued his rush, his target changed from the weaponless Tia to his smirking leader. The Seeker let out an almost dismissive sigh and dropped his arm, and the arrows flew. Some struck naught but stone, while others managed to be deflected by the amalgam of leather and metal the Hellsguard wore. Many, however, found purchase and sunk deep into Roegadyn flesh. And yet the Warrior would not stop.

 

The Nunh's eyes widened in alarm and he screamed at his tribe to reload and fire again, and they did with practiced precision. More arrows came and more decorated his arms, legs, and body. And yet the Warrior would not stop.

 

The male Seeker was looking worried now that the Roegadyn was mere fulms away now and turned to retreat from his perch, but it was too late. With a grunt, Gogonji hurled his axe at the cat and caught the would-be escapee in the shoulder and sent him spinning. The female Miqo'te didn't need orders now, firing wildly to protect their foolish Nunh. The hurried nocking and firing meant many of the arrows missed their mark, but a few still managed to strike true. And yet the Warrior would not stop.

 

A bounding leap brought the Hellsguard up onto the rock with the Nunh even as he righted himself and clutched at the gaping wound in his shoulder. The axe had landed with a clatter somewhere beyond the boulder, too far to worry about reclaiming, but the Warrior didn't need it. Thick, muscled fingers wrapped around the Seeker's neck and he was lifted off the ground and held aloft like a victory flag. He flailed and scratched and kicked as best he could as his jugular was crushed under the unrelenting grip. And the arrows continued to find purchase.

 

And yet...

 

Gogonji...

 

would not...

 

The Dunesfolk's hand jerked away from the Awakener, his eyes wide and his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He had been through a half-dozen of these now, but he had never encountered such a vivid account of the soul's death. He could still feel the phantom pains where the last arrows had caught the Hellsguard in the neck. The Warrior had died with the suffocated Nunh still held tight in his hand, bearing more arrows than a quiver in his flesh. Gogonji had heard tales of great generals in Doma who died standing on the battlefield, but he had never imagined such things were actually possible.

 

Was this the strength of one's Inner Beast?

 

And what of that brief thought just before the ambush? The memories were quickly fading into obscurity, but the Lalafell was certain he had encountered thoughts that were neither his nor that of the Hellsguard Warrior. Acting on a hunch, he rolled up his left sleeve to check on the Rouser there. Just as he had guessed, the Scholar gem was still alight. In his rush to tap into the knowledge encased in his newest Crystal, he had forgotten to turn the device off.

 

He had used two stones in conjunction before, but only after attuning to them and locking away the memories deep within his subconscious. While he had originally suppressed the soul of the Scholar, the flood of memories of the newest stone had jarred the mental cage loose for the briefest of moments. Long enough for the ancient Nymian to intrude, albeit briefly, on the battle. At the very least, it proved Gogonji's concerns about having the Rousers on when attuning to a new stone. He would have to be extra cautious in the future to avoid any additional bleeding of memories.

 

Gogonji was to be the master of these Soul Crystals, not the other way around. They would be the vehicle with which he would execute his plan. A plan that became more and more clear in the Dunesfolk's mind with each passing sun...

[Gegenji]

Special thanks for Sounsyy for being the inspiration for this bit! I wanted to have Gogonji get a White Mage Soul Crystal, but I hadn't the foggiest idea how to go about doing it!

 

Would he supplicate the Elementals? Doesn't sound like him. Would he murder a Padjal? Well, he did almost kill a thaumaturge-in-training... but I wanted to avoid having him straight up kill anyone quite yet.

 

And then Lore-sempai solved all the problems. Let's take a moment to thank Lore-Sempai. Thank you, Lore-Sempai.

 

Anyway, considering where this scene takes place, there was really only one song to play while writing it:

f4oSpmgIdt8

 

 

(... Current Soul Crystal count: Scholar, Paladin, Firedancer, Ninja, Black Mage, Summoner, Warrior, Bard, White Mage. Still Monk and Dragoon left to go.)

 

 

The air was heavy, thick with the earthy scent of decay and mildew and knowledge lost. If one took in a deep enough breath through their nose, they might even catch a whiff of a faint coppery smell of dried blood. This was a place where death had not happened just once, but twice. This was an Ampadoran keep.

 

"The hell happened here?" questioned a burly Highlander who wore what mishmash of plate armor he had on less for protection and more to show off his toned and scarred chest. A side-effect from his short stint on the Bloodsands, a career cut short due to a rather violent conversation between him and a mouthy Ul'dahn noble who had made a snide remark about the Ala Mighan refugees. He had won the fight, but lost the war when the noble and his family engineered a match that left his left arm severed just above the elbow. At least his right could hold his axe well enough.

 

That was when Gogon had found him.

 

"This used to be a haven for cultists. Some adventurers came through and cleared it out," answered a scruffy-looking Seeker, testing the string of his bow. He used to be someone - a Nunh of a small splinter group he had managed to wrest from the main tribe when all his challenges for control failed. Yet, it wasn't even a moon before one of the Tias that had come with him had usurped him from his position and ousted him from the clan. He sought to reclaim some measure of respect by joining the God's Bow, but was forever stymied in getting any sort of upward mobility.

 

That was where Gogon had found him.

 

"They sure did a half-assed job," the axeman retorted, kicking at one of the overgrown vines that lined the doorway ahead of them. One of the larger vines behind them reacted to the stimulus by slamming viciously down against the cracked stone floor. While the cultists may have been routed, they had been replaced by a multitude of vicious beasts and plants. The ochu that had once guarded the doorway lay crumpled, shredded, and burnt at the Highlander's feet.

 

"I can only hope that the relics within haven't been further damaged," intoned an Elezen female, her dark skin tinged red by the burning light of her Ifrit Egi. She was a seeker of knowledge, a finder of things that had once been buried. One such venture had resulted in unearthing Allagan relics that resulted in her fledgling skill at Summoning minor Primal aspects. She had ventured into another of the Ampadoran ruins and was quite knowledgeable of the layout of their ruins.

 

That was why Gogon had found her.

 

The Dunesfolk was sure they had names, but he cared little as his fingers traced the mathemagical formulae in his tome. Like the book, they were little more than tools at his disposal. Why learn the specific make of the hammer if all you needed it for was to drive in a nail? All that mattered what he had actually come here for, the reason he had assembled this ragtag crew for a venture into the dank ruins of the keep. And that reason was a Soul Crystal.

 

Obtaining new ones was becoming constantly more difficult as he taxed all manner of resources. He had been lucky enough to pick up one new one easily enough from a musician who was hanging up his traveler's boots and harp to settle down with his new family. However, seeking the coveted gift of Succor to complete his arcane quartet wasn't going to be so simple. Such a gift came only from the Elementals, and their blessings lay squarely with the Padjal.

 

Or, at least, they did so now. Magic of both White and Black were much more prevalent during the War of the Magi, so one might be better suited to finding the relics of such time within the ruins of that era. After all, he had obtained his very first from within the ruins of the Wanderer's Palace - gifted to him by the freed Tonberries after their King had been laid low. While Gogonji wasn't foolish enough to believe that he would be gifted another here, there was still the chance that one simply awaited discovery.

 

But why such the emphasis on yet another magic Crystal? Had someone known the Lalafell's plans well enough to ask such a question, he would've scoffed at it. It was such an obvious thing - Garleans suffered an inability to utilize aether and cast magic, so any that he could bring to bear was one more advantage in his plan to return a thousandfold the suffering they had brought onto his home and family.

 

... And then he probably would have had the nosy individual killed. His plans were becoming clearer and clearer with each bit of information gleaned from study and research and journeys into the minds locked within prisons of crystal. Each seemed to guide him, point out another blatantly obvious aspect that someone of his intelligence shouldn't have missed. With a plan of attack so close to completion, the last thing he needed was some nobody who caught a whiff of his strategy possibly leaking the information to the enemy.

 

What enemy? The filthy Garleans, the Ul'dahn moneygrubbers who might try to turn it into profit, the Limsan savages who might try to relieve him of his hard-earned artifacts, and the oppressive Gridanians who kept the locations of all these ruins under heavy lock and key. The brutish Ala Mihgans who might jump the gun in their zeal to avenge their fallen homeland, and even the remaining few Domans since it was his own that had passed on the secrets of Ninjutsu to Garlemald. No, no one could know of his plan until it was perfect and already underway.

 

No one.

 

"Hold up, something ahead," the Miqo'te hissed, bringing the small band to a stop and pulling Gogonji from his thoughts. He had shut his tome at some point, his stubby fingers gripping the spine and digging into the pliant leather of its cover. With a small exhalation, he lessened his death grip on the book and flipped it back open to be at the ready. A tool was no use if it broke, so it behooved him to keep these simpletons on their feet until he had what he came for.

 

Peering around the armored sabatons of their towering front-man, the Lalafell peered ahead through the gloom to see what the archer had spotted. Something furry seemed to be hunched over what looked like a pile of red cloth. Its back was to them and it seemed to be preoccupied with something outside their line of sight. The only hints as to what it might be was the occasional sickening crack that echoed down the hallway.

 

They weren't able to get too close, however. If the light clanking of metal on stone wasn't enough, their Twelve-be-damned sham of a God's Bow managed to find the driest section of vegetation to step on just as they entered the room. The beast whirled around at the sharp sound, its long fingers still wrapped around the neck of a still-twitching condor. The ape-like creature positively reeked of the Void as it tossed its most recent victim aside, the bird drained of all its aether.

 

"FRESH AETHER," it warbled, one side of its mouth hiking up into a sick caricature of a grin. And then its form started to... blur, becoming harder and harder to see. Within moments it was gone altogether, which spurred the Highlander's angry rush into the center of the room. The rest of the group trailed in behind as the one-armed Hyur's irate gaze snapped to and fro across the room.

 

"Shite, where did it go?" he snarled, as if one of the other three with him somehow magically had the answer. His grip was tight on his axe, one of its blades edges dragging across the stone with each sharp movement. More than once did he almost swing at the Seeker as the latter sniffed his way around the chamber. "Did it just piss on off?"

 

"Maybe," the twice-dethroned Nunh responded curtly, an arrow nocked in his bow. "I don't see it anywh--" His report was caught short as a crackling blast of red energy caught him in the shoulder and sent him to spinning. "Menphina's tits, there! Over there!"

 

It was faint, but the dim sunlight trickling in through the cracks in the walls and ceiling deflected subtly off of... something that had alit itself atop a statue of a robed Elezen clasping something to her breast. A sound of cracking stone, and the concealed form of the beast bounded off its perch and towards the Miqo'te. The head of the statue snapped off from the violent launch, it falling one way even as the rest of the sculpture toppled over in the other. The crash was ear-rending, but there were much more dire concerns beyond simple hurt eardrums.

 

The beast's cloak of invisibility evaporated like a morning fog as its long fingers grabbed hold of the gesticulating Seeker by the neck and began to squeeze. Its captive flailed and kicked to force himself free from the monster's clutches, but its grip was like iron. Even as the Miqo'te rasped out a call for help, the Highlander immediately rushed forward to assist. The garbled cries were quickly reduced to gagged gasps for air as the Hyur's axe lopped the monster's hand off at the wrist. A hand that, unfortunately for the Seeker, remained clutched tightly around its victim's crushed windpipe.

 

As the beast fled, the archer scratched and yanked and pulled at his most unwelcome necklace as it continued to strangle him. Yet it seemed locked in place, unwilling to budge even the slightest ilm. He would have gasped for help, if he had the air in his lungs to do so, but his rescuer was already chasing after the retreating beast in his awakened blood-lust. By the time the Elezen's Egi got there to burn the appendage away, the Miqo'te had already crumpled to the ground - cracking his head against the stone floor in his breathless collapse. Glancing about, the Summoner drew the runes for a Physick to help try and urge her companion back into wakefulness.

 

"It's no good. Tmesis! He requires your expertise!" the Duskwight snapped, referring to Gogon by the false name he had given them. He might have felt bad about them remembering his name whilst he hadn't the foggiest recollection of theirs. His attentions weren't on her, though, nor was it on the beast or any other of the living things in the room. His violet gaze was instead on the headless statue as it lay sprawled out sideways mere fulms from him. Clutched in its grasp was a crystal of milky white. What he had come for, his prize.

 

"Wake the fuck up, Oan!" the Highlander roared as he swung his axe horizontally in a vicious arc, the beast hopping away dextrously to avoid the metallic bite of his blade. "Ain't got time fer ya ta daydream about swiving yer sister or whatever the hells you're doing over there!"

 

The Dunesfolk's eyes snapped up at that, burning with an irrational level of hatred at the dismissive comment about the deceased Nininya. A clearer head would have realized it was just the seriousness of the situation, that he would not have known that the middle Gegenji child had perished along with the rest of her family. However, such an belligerent oaf of questionable intelligence making such a statement put Gogon in anything but a level frame of mind.

 

Gogonji snapped his hand out like a whip, a portion of his gathered aether crackling out in a shape not unlike a bolt of lightning. The blast only just grazed the axeman's cheek and slammed into the retreating beast, sending it stumbling backwards into a beam of sunlight pouring in through a sizable crack about. The furry thing seemed to smoke a little under the light, hissing violently and lurching back out of it.

 

"The light! Get it into the light!" the Summoner snapped, immediately seeking to take advantage of the situation. Her Egi responded instantly, slashing viciously at the beast with its flaming talons to cut its retreat short. While she continued to tend to the fallen Miqo'te, her familiar and the Highlander worked in tandem to drive the beast back into the beam of light.

 

Across the room, Gogon wrenched the Soul Crystal from the statue's stony fingers and tucked it away into the depths of his jacket.  With that task done, he turned his attentions to the battle at hand. Between the fatally unlucky Miqo'te, the snobbish Elezen, and the Highlander that was already sporting a new aetherically-added scar, the Lalafell seemed content enough to just cut his losses here and escape on his own. With the beast distracted, it would be easy enough to slip away with his prize.

 

"<You can't do that, Go-nii!>" That obnoxious, yet familiar voice lanced through his head again as he glanced towards the doorway. "<You have to help them! You need to!>"

 

Gogonji's eyes flitted about wildly. From the door and his easy escape to the crumpled Seeker and the Duskwight that continued to shout orders even as she sunk healing aether into her comrade. From the flaming fragments of the Ifrit Egi as the beast's claws dispersed it back into nothingness to the one-armed Hyur as he backhanded said creature across the face with the flat of his axe. All the while, that voice kept haranguing him.

 

"<Help them!>"

 

Why? They were all insufferable twits only here to help him get his hands on the very crystal that was tucked into his jacket. He didn't need them anymore.

 

"<They need you!>"

 

What use would they be? They wouldn't fit into his plans! The Seeker was permanently too big for his britches, the Highlander short-fused and short-sighted, and the Duskwight little more than an overbearing history nerd. Keeping them around would be more of a hindrance than a help. It would be better if they just died here.

 

"<Go-nii!>"

 

The next few moments were concise, calculated. Tapping into the Rouser that housed his Scholar crystal, he shorthanded a formula and Ezra burst into existence with a chime and a flash of light. Another segment of his stored aether was forcibly directed into the crumpled Seeker and he gasped as fresh air worked its way into his lungs. The last bit was quickly shaped into a shimmering dome of protective energy dropped over the Highlander.

 

"Andienna, summon your Garuda Egi - its winds can force the beast back into the light! Erwin, it's going to attack from your right flank - use the statue behind you as cover! Pa'Nito, Ezra is coming your way - get up as soon as you can and lay down some suppressive fire with Andienna!"

 

Maybe it was the confidence in his voice, or the panic of the situation, but the rest of the group moved as Gogonji directed. Nito was already getting back onto his feet as another burst of healing energy from the Lalafell's Fairy returned strength to his wiry form. Erwin ducked behind the aforementioned sculpture as the beast's claws raked through the space he had just occupied, its talons biting into stone instead of flesh. It failed attack was further punished as arrows and bolts of aetheric energy rained down upon its furry physique. The sudden change in tactics sent the creature stumbling again, mere ilms from entering the pillar of light.

 

It put up a valiant effort in its attempts to move away, the sunlight burning its shoulders and rump, but it was like the beast was fighting a well-oiled machine now. The axeman moved to physically block it from moving anywhere but towards the light, and any damage done to the Highlander was quickly mended through a tandem effort of Gogonji and Ezra. Getting some attacks in alone was difficult, as archer, Summoner, and Egi all pelted it from afar with arrows and arcane blasts.

 

As the beast was forced back into the light, it wailed and covered its empty eyes with one arm as the other made a wide arc. Erwin ducked back a step to avoid it, thinking it another slash, but its true purpose was soon revealed. With a groan, the pile of red cloth shifted and began to rise - separating into a squad of emaciated cultists in red robes. No sooner were they on their feet than they rushed at Gogonji with arms outstretched.

 

"Oan!" Erwin roared, this time in alarm rather than in anger, too caught up in restraining the furry beast to move to assist. Both Nito and Andienna changed targets as soon as the new threat presented themselves but, if the animated cultists felt the sting of the bolts and arrows, they didn't show it. They were mere fulms away from the Lalafell when he made a snap decision, shoving a hand up his sleeve and activating both the Black Mage and Summoner Soul Crystals. He had never gone to three before, and the initial flood of knowledge sent him staggering even as the crimson horde bore down on him.

 

"Tmesis! Move!" the Duskwight demanded, as if her words were enough to shock him into action. Instead, the Lalafell caught himself as he warred with the three souls forcing their way through his mind. Battle upon battle flashed through his mind, many from the War of the Magi and quite a few older. The first cultist's bony hand latched down on Gogonji's head as his violet eyes snapped open.

 

"EVERYONE DOWN! NOW!"

 

It started as a pin-prick of light, everything else seeming to slow to a crawl as it sparked into existence. And then, impossibly fast, it began to balloon outwards into a sphere of crackling crimson and violet. It seemed to almost lazily overtake the cultists, dissolving them away like salt in water. The few statues that were still standing crumpled under the blast, fragmenting into smaller bits that themselves evaporated into dust. The other three adventurers had dropped to their bellies at the command, the searing heat of the ball liable to set both clothing and hair alight. The Garuda Egi was not so quick on the uptake and was engulfed, as was the beast as it saw an opportunity for escape and leaped from the pillar of light directly into the expanding sphere.

 

And then, with a roar and a clap like thunder, it was over. Only the four adventurers remained, their flesh still sizzling and tingling from the aetheric might of the strange burst of energy. The three non-Lalafells remained flat against the ground for a moment, either afraid to stand or still trying to process what happened, but soon clambered slowly to their feet. As they surveyed the aftermath, it was the Elezen who voiced the question on all their minds.

 

"What... the hell... was that?"

 

"Mathemagically augmented coalescence of fire and shadow-aspected aether manifested from a combination of personal and extraneous sources," Gogonji responded in a weak exhalation. He had never felt both so powerful and yet so drained at the same time, and his mind felt like it was trying to expand through his skull. Wearily, he reached up his sleeve again and switched off the two Rousers. While that helped with the skull-splitting headache some, he still felt like he could sleep for a week straight.

 

"... What?" Erwin and Nito asked in unison.

 

"Big. Damn. Fireball."

 

"Oh," the Seeker breathed.

 

"Well, why didn't ya just say so?" queried the Highlander, belting out a raspy laugh.

[Gegenji]

Been a while since I posted on this, huh? Actually, does anyone actually read this little bit here? Well, I hope you are because I'd like to make a note about something mentioned in this bit.

 

The Thaliak pilgrimage Jancis ran was delightful and amazing as always. Gogonji just happens to be a bit of a slightly-twisted grump, and his opinions in no way correspond to my feelings about the event. So, um, keep that in mind!

 

Also, I apparently can't let my characters have nice things. ... You'll see.

 

Music selection for the latter part of this story (you'll know when):

pvJOp97OtAE

 

 

 

Gogonji grumbled silently to himself as his Chocobo left the crystal-laden wastes of Mor Dhona and returned to the frigid grip of Coerthas, the white bird's talons crunching on the equally white snow under her feet. In his mind, he replayed the events leading to and surrounding the pilgrimage he had attended that sun. He had commissioned another Rouser for the Ampadoran Soul Crystal he had acquired in his last venture out from the Highlands, after spending many suns more manipulating the market to fund the acquisition of its component parts. Of course, on arrival, they sprung a "price increase" on him. With this being the - what, fourth, fifth? - of these things he had asked of them, they had gotten cocky with the exclusive deal he had with them.

 

The fools had tried to obfuscate things with him. They couldn't cite price of materials since the Lalafell provided those himself, so they fell back on labor costs and the increased value of their personnel. Something to do with the Magitek knockoffs they were providing for the adventuring populous. So what extra gil he had made in his wheeling and dealings ended up snatched away along with the rest. A potentially filling meal at the cafe recently opened above Rowena's workshop was lost, and Gogonji was left with little more than ire and bile to fill his belly.

 

And that's when he had stumbled across them: a crowd making their way just outside the gates of the Toll. More than eager to try to shunt the cutthroat practices of the Ironworks from his mind, the Dunesfolk had gone to investigate. What he had found was a rather pedestrian celebratory effort for one of the few of the Twelve he could possibly put stock into - Thaliak, the Scholar. Of course, it was hard for one to believe in any sort of protective deity figure when these supposed "Gods" so readily allowed his family and home to be put to the torch. He had been of mind to just press on through and return home, but he had gotten... sidetracked.

 

Perhaps it was his innate curiosity or his interest of the search for knowledge in general, but the green-haired Lalafell found himself embedded with the rest of the rabble as they made their way through the murky Tangle and up the crystalline path to the Rathefrost. All along the way, he was subjected to the ramblings of the masses and the shouted platitudes of the bell-ringer. While the truisms were just that - things that seemed evident enough to Gogonji - he had been expecting something more intellectual or profound. His grumblings to such were met with dismissal by his "peers" - and more than one openly pointed out that he could leave if he so desired.

 

On the one hand, the eldest of the Gegenji children was tempted to leave before his already low expectations were shattered. On the other, he didn't want to give the fools the satisfaction of "driving him off." And so Gogonji remained among them as they approached the great crystalline tree that sprouted from the cliff, and the stone that so openly displayed the symbol of the Scholar. It was the latter that drew his attention, and he had spent a long moment observing it before the crowd settled down and the celebration began...

 

And what a slipshod thing it was. Even dismissing the meandering marriage proposal that would've been a better fit for a pilgrimage for Menphina, there had been very little actually intellectual presentations. A children's fable, another tale whose track was left to the devices of the loudest of the crowd, and even a completely nonsensical musical piece involving laughable pantomime and Moogles. Perhaps the only thing worse about it was the pair of songs that touched his heart a little too deeply than he preferred - a song done in honor of a lost friend and a trio-told tale of battle-worn heroes returning home.

 

Gogonji looked over his shoulder to the saddlebag strapped tight to his white-feathered ride. Within it was a book that he had procured at the celebration's completion - Valley of the Mammets or some-such. Obviously not a highly technical read from his glance over the first couple pages. Though, it might not be so bad to relax with a book that wasn't about war-torn battlefields, lost civilizations, or a technical breakdown of Allegan and Garlean technologies. Perhaps in front of the fire with a pot of tea, freshly brewed by Ezra...

 

No, there's no time for that, the eldest Gegenji child corrected himself silently as he shook his head and returned his violet gaze to the road ahead. As childish as it was, he had imitated the titular character in the last tale presented to the crowd and made a prayer before Thaliak's stone. To provide him with the knowledge and wisdom needed to seek revenge for his family and his home. He had no time to waste on idly pleasantries - there was too much ready to be set into motion to be undone by dalliance. He had said as much to that obnoxious pink-haired girl.

 

She had at first decried his lack of faith in the Twelve, fearing "curses" of all things. Then she had made inane shouts over the rest of the crowd during the story - to rob the old man, to burn down the shack the character came across. And yet, she had also approached him as he stared out at the wreckage of the Agrias and the corpse of Midgardsormr entwined around it. She brought him blessings from the leader of the celebration, the blessings of Thaliak. She spoke with him with a childish frankness and openness that reminded too much of Chachanji.

 

Yes, Chachanji would've liked her - he had told her as much. Both were childish dunces filled with too much energy for their own good and got caught up far too easily in fairy tales. Gogonji found his thin lips curling upward in a smile despite himself as he recalled how reverently his younger brother would listen to the yarns he'd spin. He too would pipe up with the oddest suggestions when polled for where to go next in the story. Maybe that was why the pink-haired Lalafell bothered him so much, not to mention all her talk of her "young hero" boyfriend.

 

Still, he found himself realizing as Annelace trudged up the rocky path towards his shack, the outing had not been all that bad. Pedestrian and rather low-brow, yes, but there had been a simple entertainment to it. It had been... nice... to talk and match wits with the attendees. They took his dour disposition and his grumbling in stride, had not minded his presence among them. The pink-haired one had even wished him luck in his ventures... provided no one she knew got hurt by them.

 

Perhaps... perhaps he could alter the plan some. After all, that ragtag bunch he had delved the Amporan ruins hadn't been so bad to be around either. Hells, the Highlander was even now traveling back to Little Ala Migho at his own offering to hunt down information on the fading Monk arts for the Lalafell. Maybe he wouldn't have to go to such extremes to create the opening needed to strike a the heart of the Garlean hydra. He could go over the formulas again, calculate a different plan of attack...

 

Gogonji was still musing such things as he approached the door, saddlebag slung over his shoulder. His sharp eyes caught the discrepancy almost immediately - the door had been forced open, and violently so. The saddlebag's strap slipped from his grasp, leaving the now-forgotten sack to crunch quietly into the snow. In its place was the Lalafell's tome, which he flipped open with practiced ease with one hand as the other slowly pushed the door open. It creaked, far too loudly for his ears, and spilled the fading light from the outside into the murky depths within.

 

It was disturbingly peaceful within. All the books still on their shelves and all shelves in their proper places, no sign of someone tearing through in search of something. Of course, that only tightened the phantom grip on the Lalafell's heart - that meant they knew exactly what they were here for. And there was only a handful of folk who knew where the shack was and what lay within, for he had kept the place secret. Secret up until...

 

Gogonji's expression darkened. So who was it, then? Erwin, back early from his "goodwill" trip - if he had even left at all? The forever-failing Pa'Nito seeking to make another grab at power, this time using the Lalafell's hard work and brilliance? Or, perhaps...

 

The Awakener was active, he could hear the telltale hum of the machine even before he rounded the corner into the main room. A guttering, dying flame lit the fireplace, what few logs had been tossed in for light all but consumed by this point - meaning the figure hunched over the Awakener had been here for some time; perhaps having broken in not long after he had left for Mor Dhona. The Titan Egi that had procured the forceful entry hovered protectively at his master's flank, while the Elezen herself sat entranced in front of Gogonji's prototype, fingers splayed across its central casing. The stone within was not that of the Summoner, however, but of a different art. Its symbol marked both the defeat of a certain enemy, and the gaining of the beast's power to turn against its kin - the Dragoon.

 

"Adienna," Gogonji hissed, his fingers already resting on the set of runes he was all but certain he'd need. The lady Elezen's gaze snapped to him - eyes wide and expression ragged. Had she spent the whole time attuning to the Dragoon stone? And what had she seen? Was it just an influx of knowledge, or did she possess the spark needed to tap fully into the soul?

 

"Tmesis...!" she rasped in return, making the Lalafell at least a little grateful he had possessed enough wherewithal to withhold his true name from these backstabbers. Her long fingers remained firmly pressed against the central casing of the Awakener, as if she was afraid of the knowledge within would slip away from her the moment she let go. Which was certainly true, and even more evidence that she had been tampering with it for quite some time now. "Stay away, you can't take this from me! ... Titan!"

 

The Egi burst into motion, launching at the Lalafell with a rocky fist. It was only barely that Gogonji managed to stumble behind a bookcase as the earthen summon sundered the floorboards with a sickening crack. The force of the impact knocked the Dunesfolk off his feet and he crashed into both the floor and bookcase, a wheeling hand smacking painfully into one of the shelves and rewarding him with little more than a few books tumbling down about him. He had no time to deal with the sharp pains, though, as Adienna's tiny bouncer moved to engage him again.

 

"The knowledge here, it could change the war, Oan! Thousands upon thousands of Dragoons, with cycles upon cycles of knowledge engraved in their minds!" Adienna barked, perhaps trying to convince herself of the reasoning behind her treachery as much as to the eldest Gegenji child. "Do you know what you've been hiding here in this deplorable little shack of yours!?"

 

Gogonji only barely heard her words, since her Egi was a much more pressing threat. The first attack had been a surprise, but the beast itself was still quite dangerous even without such an advantage. He was too slow, only barely escaping the heavy strikes due to his home turf advantage. Turf that was currently being torn apart piece by piece under rocky fists. He needed his own advantage, and he needed it fast.

 

"We could finally drive back that Twelves-be-damned Horde once and for all!" the Elezen continued, her gaze returning lovingly to the Awakener and the Crystal within it. "We... I... I'd be a hero! My House's name would be elevated to the highest echelons of society!"

 

A flick of the switch up a sleeve and the Ninja Crystal flickered to life, filling the Lalafell's mind with the evasive and deadly tactics of his homeland. Coupled with his already-active Scholar Crystal, the two souls seemed to entwine and speak amongst each other, devising a plan to remove this assailant and her earthen bodyguard. It all flooded into Gogonji's hate-addled mind, goading him into what had to be done. A voice cried out in the back of it, a familiar voice he had heard plenty enough from this sun... but it was ignored. When the Egi came around the corner to continue its assault, its quarry was gone.

 

"You wouldn't understand!" Adienna was caught in her own little tirade now, the irony lost on the Lalafell in the swirl of ancient knowledge and present anger. "To be chided and hated due to a mistake your fool of a grandfather made in cycles past! This could solve everything! EVERYTHING!"

 

A well-aimed writing quill caught her in the webbing between index and middle finger, finally forcing the Elezen to withdraw that hand from the machine. She shook her hand sharply to try and dislodge the implement as blood began to seep out around it, but it was stuck fast. Still unwilling to fully break contact with the device, however, Adienna instead recalled the Egi to her side to both remove the offending quill and bodily protect her from her unseen assailant.

 

That was all the time Gogonji needed, however. With both her and her elemental distracted, she was wide open for attack. Another quill whistled through the air, this time catching the Elezen in her elegant neck. There was too much muscle there for it to bite too deeply, but it was only a closing maneuver. Trailing behind the writing implement was the Lalafell himself, battered training sword held in his grip like a katana. As the quill struck her neck, the blade sunk into her side.

 

"Family!?" Gogonji snapped even as he forced the blade in deeper. "Don't you dare speak to me of family! You haven't the faintest inkling of what you speak! This machine has a much greater purpose than your foolish climb up the ladder! You have no right to touch it!"

 

As if to emphasize his point, he yanked the blade free from its fleshy scabbard, ignoring the blood that poured so freely from the open wound. Raising the weapon over his head, the Lalafell next attacked her hand, the cheap blade biting down to the bone of her forearm before lodging fast. It was enough, though, to finally get Adienna to finally relinquish her hold on the Awakener. A forceful kick sent her stumbling to the floor, bashing her shoulder against her own Egi as it moved to protect her from the sudden assault. One hand clutching the injured arm, she curled up protectively.

 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she wailed, all arrogance and pride gone from her voice now. "Forgive me! I... I didn't mean it!"

 

"Of course you did," Gogonji intoned darkly in an unsettlingly even tone, whirling past her guardian with a Ninja's agility to lay hands on his blade once more. "You... Eorzeans only care for your own little nations. The only time you care about anyone else is when they can help you. What happens anywhere else doesn't matter if it doesn't affect you."

 

He quickly sidestepped another rocky punch, the fist coming dangerously close to its master's prone form. With a sharp yank, Gogonji ripped the blade free from the Elezen's arm - eliciting another primal yowl of pain. He was unphased, even as a voice screamed at him from within his mind. A small green-haired child hammering against the wall of anger he had erected around himself with tiny fists, crying out for his older brother to stop. Stop before it was too late.

 

"I'll change that, though," the Dunesfolk snarled, spinning the blade around in his grasp. "I'll bring them to your doorstep. All of you. And you can all burn as my home did. And you will all either aid me in casting down the Garlean Empire..."

 

Gogonji thrust the blade into her exposed neck. The Titan Egi that had been rushing in for another attack lost cohesion and splintered into a mess of dirt and stone that crashed into the Lalafell. One stone caught him squarely in the temple, sending a rivulet of blood down the side of the his face. The glowering Doman didn't seem to notice. He simply twisted the blade vindictively.

 

"... Or die in the process."

[Gegenji]

Shorter Preface - and relatively shorter overall post - today! It should be noted that today's chapter follows this post made on the Bulletin Board, which - in turn - was wrought from an IG RP conversation! Gogon's starting to move, and if folks want to interact with him, feel free to let me know!

 

And now for today's music selection:

i6uIsvSMeXk

 

 

 

Gogonji had been surprised when the nosy girl had returned - he had mostly set her on the task to try to disparage her and show whoever was holding her leash that he would not be so easily duped again. On the off-chance she managed to get hold of the documents, then he would be in that much better a position to account for any variables in his plan. What he hadn't expected was her stealing a prototype Magitek unit and marching the damnable thing to Fallgourd. The Garleans weren't going to just let that lie - hells, the guards around the edges of the town pitched a fit when the metallic behemoth had marched its way in. And yet, perhaps there was a bright side to all of this, a way to bend this surprise to his favor.

 

First and foremost was getting it away from the Cork, which turned out to be a simple enough task. All it took was Pa'Nito, already a member of the God's Bow, to show up in uniform with "orders" to take the device away from the potentially endangered Gridanian citizenry and to Cid at the Ironworks for study. An air of authority, the right garb, and waving around papers that looked official enough in the subsequent chaos, and the Seeker was in the driver's seat. Then it was simply a matter of traveling to Mor Dhona, skirting through the icy edges of Coerthas to avoid the reach of the Castrum there. Such a detour took just long enough for Gogonji to "happen" to arrive to air his grievances with the price hike from the last commission when the Miqo'te brought the hulking machine to the Ironworks.

 

While obviously requiring research for the good of Eorzea, such a hefty piece of Garlean technology - experimental no less! - was also worth a pretty coin. The Ironworks was making a killing off of their replica Magitek gear anyroad, so why not spend some to bolster the Gridanian coffers? And so, along with the praise and esteem for getting such an obviously anti-Eorzean weapon to those who could best handle it, Pa'Nito also got himself a generous cut of the sale. The rest went to Gogonji's own war chest, though it was quickly laundered and put to use - the materials for several more Rousers soon to be in his possession.

 

So, what was the aftermath of all this? The Garleans were short a weapon designed to deal with Eorzean magicks, and would rightfully be upset with the seemingly unwarranted assault on their Castrum in the Shroud. The Gridanians were now aware that at least one such weapon existed and was currently undergoing study at its "rightful" place of the Ironworks, and left to draw the obvious conclusions as for what such a device was intended for. Such increased tensions would have both sides eying the other while Gogonji made use of his windfall to accelerate his own plans to compensate. Not to mention the Ironworks "regular" hopefully being able to strike up some conversation on the various details of the machine in case he should ever encounter the second one - if it wasn't scrapped entirely due to its existence being leaked.

 

Gogonji grinned darkly as he returned to the Cork after getting in contact with his usual channels over the needed Rouser components. He couldn't buy it all at once, of course, since suddenly coming into such a large amount of gil would be curious enough. However, his calculations called for - at most - perhaps a couple covert motions by the Garleans to either recover or destroy their stolen machine. Efforts that most likely be deflected by the Crystal Braves and possibly the Hero of Light himself. And even if they did succeed, that was more or less a return to status quo with increased tensions... plenty of time to turn his liquified assets into all the Rousers he needed.

 

All that remained was tending to Annunu's wounds. Not that Gogonji particularly cared that she was so injured - he had noted her preexisting injuries the sun he sent her out on this mission - but Pa'Nito had put forth the rather reasonable explanation of "tending to her injuries" for her stopover in Fallgourd. Not to mention that he still needed to get the rest of the intel off of her, something he couldn't have done with everyone panicking over the arrival of the Magitek on their doorstep. And so, dressed in the garb of one of the Conjurer's Guild, the green-haired Lalafell exited his own room and entered the one where Annunu had been confined to bed rest. It was almost amusing how much one could do if they simply looked like they belonged somewhere.

 

The room itself was dark, the blinds pulled shut to allow its occupant to rest and recover her strength after her harrowing "black ops" ordeal. Even in the gloom, the medical supplies needed for more plebeian healing methods stood out on the stand by the bed itself. Medical gauze, bottles of disinfectant, even a bone needle and some surgical suture to sew closed any gregarious cuts she might have suffered. It wouldn't do to have such a patriot succumb to her wounds before the healers could get to her, right?

 

The other notable detail in the room was Annunu's pink twin-tails, which stood out almost as much - if not more so - than the assortment of assembled medical supplies in the dimly lit room. Pink, just like that girl that reminded Gogonji far too much of his fallen younger brother. This one, too, seemed far too interested in his "well-being" and sticking her nose where it generally didn't belong. While she had performed his request of her well enough, from all appearances, he'd be a fool to so easily welcome her into his circle. After all, who's to say that she herself couldn't be a Garlean spy - purposely injured to lend some credence to her cover story?

 

Well, he would not be fooled so easily. He had only stated that he might begin to trust her, and that was only after he had the information she retrieved verified by a third party. A third party that, while he also did not fully trust, he still valued far more than some random pink-haired upstart that he "just so happened" to meet on a pilgrimage to Thaliak. And "just so happened" to be able to find him at the Cork after Andienna's betrayal. And now the Castrum "just so happened" to have an experimental weapon that she "just so happened" to escape with.

 

Far, far too many coincidences for the Doman's liking. Still, like the buzzing of an annoying fly, the muted sounds of a voice in the back of his mind kept calling out to him. That perhaps she was honestly worried about him, that she truly had wanted to make sure he was okay given his icy behavior at the pilgrimage. That all these injuries she had incurred on top of the originals was proof that she wanted to ally herself with him.

 

Gogonji nearly laughed aloud at that word - allies. Pa'Nito, Erwin, and the rabble he was having them quietly gather under his banner were no "allies." That implied a semblance of equality, that he actually cared about their well-being. Which couldn't be further from the truth; they were merely tools. Tools to orchestrate his revenge on Garlemald, and wake up the foolish "Eorzean Alliance" to the necessity of it in the process.

 

Or have them all slaughter each other down to the last Man, it mattered little to him.

 

Still, this particular tool might still have its uses. If she was indeed a spy for either the Eorzeans or the Garleans, he could suss it out and gather information from them whilst obfuscating what got returned to them. All the while, he could make use of her apparent skill to gather more information on the other Castrums nestled about Eorzea. If she had indeed broken into one, she could likely break into another. Though, for her sake, hopefully without drawing as much attention to her actions as she had here.

 

He had no compulsions against discarding troublesome tools.

 

Still, such a verdict had not been drawn as of yet. So, with the drawing of his tome from the depths of the hempen robe, the Dunesfolk traced out the healing runes inscribed within. Healing aether - once a metallic silver in cycles long past, now tainted with a corroded red hue - flowed over the female Lalafell's bandaged form. Erasing bruises, re-knitting flesh, and mending bone. She had been asleep when he had entered - or at least feigning to - but it would hard to do either as his aether did its work.

 

"Welcome back, child..."

[Gegenji]

Things are starting to take shape! There's still a bit of ways to go, but I think the tipping point is not much further. What tipping point? Well... you'll see.

 

I flipped through a bunch of different songs trying to find one good to write to. Ultimately I settled on this:

NpCCYadZCNQ

 

 

Not very far from the Bobbing Cork at all was a small restaurant and bar, seated a stone's throw from the walls that protected Fallgourd from the Ixali incursions just beyond. If the place had a name, Gogonji never bothered to ask for it - referring to it even in the missive that resulted in this meeting as "the meal just within the skin of the Gourd." Obnoxiously obscure, yes, but the Doman had taken to being overly discrete with disclosing his itinerary after what happened in his Coerthas hideaway. Which made Annunu's apparent ease at finding him at the Cork afterward all the more suspicious and troubling.

 

Gogonji shook his head, unwilling to let that unreadable Lalafell creep into his thoughts again with her flat tones and expressions. He had sent her off to gather more information just as a linkpearl chimed to let him know the veracity of her last findings, and so he would deal with her once she returned. What mattered now was the conversation currently going on in front of him.

 

"... and the cell in Hawthorne just gained two more members - both Keepers. They're undergoing background checks as we speak, as per your orders," Pa'Nito droned on. While the Seeker lacked proper leadership material himself, he had a knack for finding those who, like himself, were discontent with their lot in life. The disparaged and downtrodden, those left on the frayed edges of Nymeia's tapestries. Just the type of tools Gogonji needed. "If they clear, that will bolster their numbers to..."

 

He paused to flip through his notes.

 

"Sixteen," the Dunesfolk finished for him, a finger tapping idly on his upper arm. "Enough for two units of eight, or four strike squads of four apiece." He turned to the Miqo'te and gave him a curt nod of approval. "Should they clear, redirect any further applicants to one of the smaller groups."

 

"Right-o." Pa'Nito tucked his quill back into his hat and his notes into one of the many pockets laced throughout his jacket. "That's all I've got for ya, then."

 

"Erwin?"

 

The one-armed Highlander set down his tankard of ale with a contented sigh, the remaining drink sloshing about noisily as cup met table. His only hand freed from the mug's handle, he pulled a small pouch from his belt and tossed it playfully across the tabletop. The hide sack skipped once, twice, before grinding to a halt in front of the green-haired Lalafell.

 

"Along with that," Erwin added with a sweep of his hand before scooping up his tankard again, "I've got a half-dozen more boys 'n girls chomping at the bit ta remind the Garleans o' the pride'a Ala Mhigo."

 

Gogonji paused in his untying of the the twine about the neck of the pouch.

 

"And what, exactly, did you tell them?"

 

"Same thing you told me, a'course," the Highlander laughed raucously, his tone tinged with drink. "How the rest'a Eorzea's too wrapped in their own 'problems' ta realize the big honking one right in fronna their faces. That Garlemald's just biding its time a'fore it strikes again, 'n we need ta deal wit 'em a'fore that happens. What, was that wrong'a me?"

 

"I merely feared you might... embellish things," the Doman responded neatly, too easily recalling when the Hyur claimed the fireball he cast in the ruins was "as big as Dalamund" over their victory meal. He had been drinking then, too. Gogonji was hard-pressed to find a time when the man wasn't drinking outside of combat. And he figured that was only because Erwin hadn't quite figured out how to handle both an axe and a flask in one hand quite yet. At least he seemed to keep enough of his wits about him to not do anything overly stupid. Most of the time.

 

There were still times when the Highlander slipped up and let his anger get the best of him, of course, but those were easily enough attributed to his drunkenness and his hotblooded nature. Gogonji knew of every one as well, since he kept close tabs on both his "commanders," if he was willing to call them such. There would be no repeat of the Andienna Incident under his watch.

 

"It's fine, it's fine!" Erwin assured him with another laugh and a dismissive wave of his mug - sending the drink sloshing about again. "E'ry good story needs sumthin' catchy to it. Otherwise, who's gonna listen, eh?"

 

"Hrmph," was Gogonji's only reply as he returned his attentions to the sack. Pulling it open after a couple more seconds on the ties, and he was rewarded with the telltale glimmer of crystal as light pierced its leathery depths. Within this bag lay the crystallized knowledge of a Fist of Rhaglr, one of the most frightening units of what was once Eorzea's greatest military power. It had taken betrayal from within for Garlemald to lay the city-state low - something Gogonji was far too familiar with - so there was much knowledge to be had from it.

 

That was for later, though.

 

"Well, you know the procedures." The Lalafell didn't look up as he plucked the crystal from its resting place and palmed it deftly into a hidden pocket. The bag itself didn't look like it had anything sketchy in or on it, but one could never be too careful. "Should they meet the requirements, direct them to the Bluefog cell."

 

"You got it, Oan," the Highlander affirmed with another jostle of his mug before taking a long pull of it. "Man, y'know, it's hard ta believe. We're actually gonna do this, ain't we? We're gonna finally take it to the Garleans. Jus'... jus' like Operation Art Con."

 

"Archon."

 

"Yeah, that," Erwin nodded. "But better."

 

"I wouldn't go that far," Pa'Nito interjected, kicking his feet up onto the table. "We ain't got the backing of the Grand Companies like the Warrior of Light did." He glanced over expectantly at Gogonji. "Unless there's something you're not telling us, Tmesis."

 

"The three nations will not act unless they're directly jeopardized," the Lalafell stated flatly, a bit of indignation seeping into his tone. "Operation Archon was an example of that, and so too with the recent assault on Ishgard. They each only sent a paltry amount of soldiers apiece, and only after realizing that letting Ishgard fall would allow Garlemald a deeper foothold into Eorzean lands. And yet they still will not act to deal with the issue of Garlemald itself, content to return to their own political quabbles."

 

"Ya mean like th' whole imprisonment of th' Flame General 'n whatnot?" Erwin queried over the lip of his tankard.

 

"A fair example, yes, but I also mean the lack of cooperation between the nations themselves." Gogonji folded his arms neatly over his chest. "The Eorzean Alliance is  a misnomer, for they are only the most tenuous of allies. It is up to us, to Khamja, to truly deal with the threat. Or, if not that, bring it enough of it to the forefront that the 'Alliance' will have no choice but to properly band together once more and aid in our endeavor."

 

"So, either way, Garlemald gets th' kick in th' pants it so rightly deserves," the Highlander chortled. "I like it."

 

"Not to mention the accolades we'll receive for dealing with them," Pa'Nito added. "I'm finally looking at a promotion thanks to that experimental Magitek armor. You'd figure it'd take a bit less than revealing an anti-magic weapon to move ahead in the world."

 

The Miqo'te shrugged and sighed as he tilted backward in his seat.

 

"Congratulations on your impending promotion, then," interjected the green-haired Lalafell. "It is well deserved."

 

"Here, here!" Erwin chimed, waving that tankard about again. It was a good thing it was near empty, or he would've been sharing its contents with everyone at the table. "I'll drink to that, 'n you should too! Drinks all around!"

 

"Well, I have a couple other matters to attend to," Gogonji corrected as he hopped out of his seat. He paused just long enough to dust off and straighten the sleeves of his jacket before continuing. "So I'll leave the two of you to your drinks."

 

"Aw, stick around, Oan," Erwin bemoaned, smacking his mug against the table for emphasis. "It'll be a blast!"

 

"No rest for the weary, I'm afraid. You'll just have to drink more in my stead."

 

"Ha! That I can do!"

 

The Highlander was in the middle of waving down someone to bring fresh drinks for both himself and Pa'Nito when Gogonji left the establishment. The sky was thick with clouds, and a faint rumble in the distance warned of rain soon to come. Violet eyes gaze up at the overcast sky, and then to the figure leaning against the wall just outside the reach of the swinging door.

 

The Sea Wolf was small for a Roegadyn, though he still towered over the wee Dunesfolk in spite of that. He was not just small in size, but in musculature as well - looking much akin to the "Midlander" equivalent to his brethren's "Highlander." The well-maintained Limsan flintlock at his hip, however, seemed to serve as deterrence enough against accosting him for his deficiencies. Still, he looked rather uncomfortable in Gridanian garb over his usual seaworthy attire. To the point that he had been adamant about keeping the eye-patch and bandana on.

 

It made for an odd ensemble, to be sure. The fact that he was trying so hard to look cool and aloof despite his constant glances through the window towards the other two didn't help matters either. Definitely signs of someone fresh into a position of power and trying desperately to make a good impression.

 

"I was wondering when you were going to join us, Aergoeya," Gogonji commented idly as the door clicked shut behind him. "Will you be joining the others for drinks? They might like to meet their newest compatriot."

 

"... Maybe. In a bit. If'n I feel like it," Aer responded, pausing briefly before each segment as he thought up the next. "Yer wantin' yer report first though, aye?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Well, as ya figgered, there's plenty'a us not content to jus' harryin' Garlean ships when they come inta our waters," the Roegadyn stated with a shrug. "Not ta mention that Castrum already sitting pretty as you please just north'a Costa. I'm pretty sure I ain't alone in wanting to sail on in there 'n take anythin' that ain't bolted down. 'n bring a crowbar for the stuff that is."

 

"Numbers, Aerygoeya."

 

"I was gettin' ta that. I ain't got quite enough to properly crew a ship yet, but a bit more word'a mouth 'n I should be able to put together somethin'." He was being evasive, garnering a stern look from the Lalafell. "Look, ya don't want me jus' grabbin' any ol' swabby who wants in so it's takin' some time! 'n I got plenty'a those. Tons."

 

Gogonji sighed inwardly. He had figured that dealing with Limsan pirates would be a sticking point in his plan, and his predictions seemed to have been accurate. He had been lucky enough to grab hold of this up-and-coming young ship's captain, but his brashness, posturing, and overall lack of experience was continually causing problems. If Annunu didn't pick Castrum Occidens on her own, the Doman might send her that way next to counteract inexperience with added information.

 

"And the others?"

 

"W-well, they're th'... shadier elements, y'know?" Another excuse, he was obviously uncomfortable with getting in contact with those acting against Merlwyb's wishes. "It's gonna take some work ta get them on our side. If at all."

 

"Just keep me informed," the eldest Gegenji child stated flatly, his tone implying that not doing so would be hazardous to the young Roe's health. "If you cannot sway the other captains, then build up your own crew to compensate. If you cannot build up  your own crew, then I will build it up for you."

 

"Hey! I can pick me own crew, akay?" Aer interjected indignantly, bristling at the vaguest hintings that he might not be worthy of his position. "Even wit yer crazy restrictions. No problems. Could do it in me sleep."

 

"See that you do." Gogonji let that statement hang in the air for a moment, backed by a peal of thunder, before turning back towards the door. "Now come, I should introduce you to the other two ere I leave. I have spoken briefly to them of you, but I believe proper introductions are necessary."

[Gegenji]

Been a couple weeks! Gogon's been quietly amassing his forces, bringing the discontent under his banner. However, an incident at the Bobbing Cork has set things into motion! Things are going to come to a head, and quickly. Soon things will begin... very soon.

 

Please look forward to it!

 

Oh, and have some musics:

_aM3rxj9l_k

 

 

The refreshing of his cup of tea was greatly appreciated, the heated drink helping to chase away the chill of the air around him. Gogonji had spent quite a bit of time in Coerthas, albeit less so after the assault on his cabin hideaway, but the chill always seemed to find a way to seep its way uncomfortably into his bones. However, the dour Lalafell had little choice on where to hole up now that the Bobbing Cork had been compromised. He would have to make do with this cup of tea, provided by this little hole-in-the-wall tavern beneath the shadow of the Observatorium.

 

Still, the one thing the tea couldn't chase away was the gnawing feeling of dread and worry deep within his gut. That Miqo'te in the stylish hat had known much. Too much. There had been flaws in her story she tried to spin to him to steal into his good graces, most notably the idea that he had forged the pair of cactaur earrings - the pair he had split when he had left home, leaving one in the care of his younger brother as a memento. Still, the fact that she had known that he had done such a thing was a troubling bit of knowledge.

 

How did she know that? And he had heard her mention of how he taught little Chachanji about a bit of healing after an accident. No one should have known about that. No one. And yet, it still spilled from her lips so carefree before Annunu had interceded on his behalf.

 

He paused mid-sip as a thought occurred to him: had... had the Garleans been watching over his family for that long? The Gegenjis had certainly cemented themselves as providers of high-quality weaponry to the people of Garlemald, as could be seen by the number of them who came by for swords and spears and armor during the occupation. Yet, to go so far as to spy on the family itself? Were they really that fearful - that paranoid - of a single family of arms dealers?

 

Or had they planned that far ahead to raze Doma? Gogonji's blood boiled at the thought as it crossed his mind. Stringing along a subjugated people, using them for their labor and resources just to turn around an discard them into the flames when they were no longer needed? Could Garlemald truly be that inhuman? His grip tightened on the handle of his teacup, the twitches of rage transferred into the erratic sloshing of the tea within.

 

However the Garleans came about it, they knew much - far too much. Were they watching him even now? Gogonji's violet eyes flitted covertly about the small tavern room. Every other patron was suspicious - a potential Garlean in disguise that had tailed him from his flight from Fallgourd. How many had been in here when he had arrived... and how many had arrived after?

 

Why were they here? Were they just grabbing a bite or a drink? Coming off a shift within the Observatorium or about to go on one? Or were they here, watching him, ready to relay any tidbit of information to the Garleans... to the enemy? Not enough information, not nearly enough information.

 

Gogonji couldn't risk it. His plans were too far along now to have them disrupted by a leak in information. He'd have to move up the deadline, he'd have to. Lest Garlemald gather even more information on him and his plot. He would've liked to have the cell's numbers swelled a bit more, but he could still make do with what he had.

 

He'd have to.

 

First, though, he'd have to escape this chilly tavern, filled with possible Garlean spies. The green-haired Lalafell set his teacup down as gently and nonchalantly as he could, reaching into a pocket for his coin purse. Everything had to look normal, they couldn't know that he knew. He set a few gil coins down on the tabletop, payment and tip for the unfinished drink.

 

Should he stay and finish it off, to help maintain the illusion? No no, there was no time. Every second wasted was a second that Garlemald could possibly learn more of his plans. They had to be put into motion before then. Gogonji hopped out of his chair and swaggered his way to the door, practically exuding a forced air of indifference.

 

His eyes, though, they were trained on all the other patrons. How many turned their attentions onto him as he pushed open the door into the chilly Coerthas night? How many had never left him? How many feigned their indifference, acting as if they weren't watching him? Oh but he knew, he knew their games.

 

This was his knowledge, and he'd make good use of it.

 

He almost didn't feel the snow as he trudged out on foot into the Highlands. He couldn't get a Chocobo, the Chocobokeep might tip them off. He'd wait until he was well outside the gates before calling for Annelace, she'd get him where he needed to go. One of his few allies in a sea of suspicion, a heart as pure as her white feathers. He'd had her since coming to Eorzea, she wouldn't betray him.

 

... Would she?

 

He shook his head. No no no, she was just a bird. And he always checked for any sort of tracer whenever he groomed her, anyway - he wouldn't let anyone else do it, lest they try and sneak one on. This was just another part of the Garlean's plan - trying to turn him against his own mount, against what few allies he had. He wouldn't let them.

 

As if to cement his beliefs, Annelace was quick to heed his call, settling down expectantly into the snow to make mounting easier for her rider. Something Gogonji was quick to do, ready to be away from this icy land of traitors and spies. He glanced around suspiciously into the snowy night around him - eyes straining for any suspicious movement. Hints of those who sought to tail him.

 

But where would he go? They were everywhere. He had to get to his Commanders, had to tell them to gather their forces and be ready to move. He'd held off on passing out linkshells, lest they fall into the hands of the enemy. Now, though, now that caution made this all the more difficult. Gogonji not only had to find a place where he could safely contact them, he needed somewhere for them to meet.

 

Revenant's Toll.

 

The answer sung out to the Doman like the alluring voice of the Siren. People of all sorts crowded there, adventurers and refugees and other riffraff. He and his could lose themselves amongst them and he could set the final steps of his plan into motion. That merchant woman had just opened a cafe above where she sold her knock-off equipment not too long ago, hadn't she? They could meet there, it made perfect sense.

 

And, while he was there, he could pick up his last Rouser - the one for his newly obtained Monk Soul Stone. Then he'd have it, all the power he needed to bring to bear to make Garlemald regret what they did. For oppressing a people they had planned from the start to set to the flame. In fact, once he set things in motion, the Lalafell found himself vaguely hoping that they would get some inkling of his plans - the writing on the wall discovered too late to make a difference. Far, far too late.

 

As Annelace streaked through the evening, a speck of white lost against an endless sea of white, Gogonji withdrew paper and pen from her saddlebags. He had letters to write, letters to send. By Moogle, not by the hands of Man. He couldn't trust these messages in the hands of Men. Not at this critical juncture.

 

All the while, wrapped up in his sealed off room in his mind, Gogonji could feel as if something was banging on the door. Something vaguely familiar, something he had dealt with before. A tiny fist pounding against his asylum, his shelter. He might even be able to make out a voice that sought to pierce through and reach him...

 

No, no time to think about it. No time to dwell on it. The Garlean shadows were grasping at his coattails. He had to act before they found purchase and ruined everything he had worked for.

 

 

So much to write.

 

 

So much to do.

 

 

So much to set into motion.

 

 

So little time...

[Gegenji]

One more post after this one before things... truly begin. As always, I feel a bit iffy with bits of this, but I'm not sure how much of it is my own worry about my own skill and how much is actually... I dunno, just written poorly?

 

Also, apologies to Howl if I misrepresented Annunu in any way during this little bit. I always get nervous when trying to write for other people - hence why I try to keep what they say or do brief... or have an actual interaction between them for reference.

 

I might actually have this arc done by Heavensward! Let's... hope it turns out at least decently well.

 

This section's music is:

 

 

The cafe above Rowena's House of Splendors was a relatively new addition to the ever-expanding mass that was Revenant's Toll. Yet, it had garnered plenty of attention in its short existence - though whether this was a concerted effort by Rowena herself or just a happenstance was anyone's guess - and already touted a not insignificant number of patrons who came either for the food or the exquisite view of the fledgling town and the crystalline structures beyond its walls. The din of the customers, mixed with the ever-present background noise of the continued construction on the Toll, allowed much conversation to easily go unnoticed even from one's neighboring table.

 

Even so, Gogonji was never one to be content with such mundane and questionable precautions. He had ensured that his table was separated from the rest, tucked away in a corner away from the prying eyes and burning ears that had no place intruding on his dealings. A place meant purely for private conversation, to discuss matters of personal import that were not intended to be put on display in front of the unwashed masses. And, considering the dark expression painted clearly on the Doman's features as he eyed his Commanders, he considered these matters quite important indeed.

 

"We are short on time, so I will be equally brief," the Dunesfolk stated flatly, laying his map out flat on the table and revealing the litany of shorthand and marks that decorated its worn surface. Numbers and calculations and notes all vying for position over topography symbols and place names, making the whole thing an almost indecipherable mess of pen-strokes. Amongst all the conflicting scribblings, however, were four symbols placed on four specific points on the map that stood out in solid relief amongst the rest of the chaos.

 

On the edge of Gyr Albania - the Eorzean symbol for flame.

 

Deep within the Twelveswood - the symbol for earth.

 

Near the Garlean seaboard - water.

 

And the final location, the Castrum nestled just west of the Toll itself, was marked with the symbol of wind.

 

"How long until your cells are amassed and ready to move?" Gogonji demanded in a low yet insistent tone, his violet gaze turning to the Highlander first. "Erwin?"

 

"Gatherin' at Lil' Ala Mihgo as we speak, like ya wanted," Erwin responded with a broad grin, leaning forward over the table with his lone arm to get a better look at the map. His inability to decipher any of it was briefly displayed on his battle-ravaged features, his limited grasp of the written word being sorely tested in handling such a mess of shorthand from such a suboptimal angle. He ultimately decided to deal with it by simply ignoring it entirely and turning his full attentions back on the leader of Khamja. "If we wait fer all th' stragglers? A week, tops."

 

Gogonji frowned as the Highlander settled back more comfortably into his seat. With no clue how close the Garlean spies were on his heels, the Lalafell was of mind to set things in motion as quickly as possible to prevent any chance of interception or interference. And yet rushing things overly much would only serve to further hinder the plans, so - as much as he would like all his people moving in a sun's time - he was left with little choice but to settle for a slightly more lenient time frame.

 

"Three suns."

 

Though not much more lenient.

 

"Three suns!?" Aerygoeya repeated in alarm, looking up from idly checking his flintlock.

 

"You will wait three suns time, then on the fourth you will gear up your men and move out by sundown at the absolute latest," Gogonji clarified in the bluntest of tones, drawing a line from Little Ala Mihgo to the fire symbol with one Lalafellan finger and tapping on it twice. "Those who cannot be there in that stretch of time are not worth waiting for." His violet eyes snapped to the Roegadyn. "Is there a problem?"

 

"What?" the Sea Wolf was immediately taken aback, as expected, nearly tipping his creaking chair over backward in the process. "No! 'Course not. Could do it in two. In my sleep!"

 

"I will hold you to that, then," the Lalafell responded curtly, garnering a nervous swallow from the ship's captain as he tapped impatiently on the water symbol. "Gather what crew and ships you can here, and on the fourth day you will set sail and assault both ship and stronghold along the coast. Flying the colors I have given you. Understood?"

 

"Y-yeah. S'fine. Clear as crystal."

 

His gaze flitted to the last of the three Commanders sitting at the table, his finger sliding across the map to rest atop the symbol of earth. "And you, Pa'Nito? Will you and yours be able to strike here in four sun's time?"

 

The Miqo'te peered across the table at the map and the position the Lalafell had marked, before responding with a sigh and a grandiose shrug of his shoulders.

 

"I don't like it, but I can manage it," he stated succinctly. "At least a decent number will already be wearing the proper colors, so that won't be a problem. And the information gathered by your..." His feline eyes glanced to the form of Annunu, who stood vigilantly at Gogonji's flank. "... little Nymeian Lily over there should make dealing with that particular location simple enough."

 

"Her name..." Gogonji snapped, causing the Seeker's tail to puff up in alarm at the sudden harshness. "Is Annunu. And she is as much a Commander as the rest of you. And, as such, will receive the same level of respect. Is that clear?"

 

"Aw, don't be shy now, Oan," Erwin guffawed, grinning over his tankard that he had somehow obtained in the interim. "Ain't nothing wrong if'n ya fancy--" The look Gogonji shot him to shut down that line of thinking could've melted Darksteel. Suddenly his tankard of ale was quite a bit more interesting a focus for his attentions. "Aha... ha... hum."

 

"She will assault the final position, here," the eldest Gegenji child continued, pressing a finger firmly into the wind symbol. "Also by end of the fourth sun," he emphasized as he looked over his shoulder towards the female Lalafell in question, who gave a stoic nod. If any of the jabs from Pa'Nito and Erwin had bothered her, her doll-like expression gave no hintings of it. As unreadable as ever. "Any questions?"

 

"I... I have one," Aerygoeya offered, almost timidly in tone before his ego quickly hardened it. "I mean, I'm sure I can guess why easily 'nuff, but I wanna make sure the others know and--"

 

"Out with it."

 

"What's with th' dressin' up?" the Sea Wolf queried. "Flyin' the Maelstrom's colors, wearin' their uniforms. Seems unnecessary t'me. I mean, I'll do it no problem but..."

 

"Oh, but it is absolutely necessary," Gogonji corrected. "For it won't seem as if it was just a series of coincidental raids, but instead a coordinated assault to recover lost or tactically vital territory by the Eorzean Alliance and the Crystal Braves."

 

"And passing the blame onto them as well," Pa'Nito conjectured, looking a mite worried. He was obviously in it for personal glory, to taste what had been stolen from him twice before. The magitek incident had whet his appetite somewhat, and he didn't seem too keen on losing that gained ground so shortly after obtaining it. His fears needed assuaging.

 

"Yes, but also the glory," the green-haired Lalafell stated as he started rolling up the map once more, its role in the meeting completed. "The Order of the Twin Adder ousting the Garleans out of the Twelveswood. The Immortal Flames finally pushing in to reclaim Ala Mihgo. The Maelstrom further putting a stranglehold on Garlean shipping. It will empower the common folk, show that the Eorzean Alliance truly can push Garlemald out of their lands once and for all. Do it well enough, and you might even inspire the Grand Companies to bring the fight straight to the Garlean homeland itself in retaliation for all the wrongs they have committed."

 

"'n really show'em what happens when they push Eorzeans too far," Erwin finished for him, slamming his tankard down onto the table. "Gyahaha. I like it."

 

"And what riches and glory will be piled on those who led the charge? To whom opened the doors to an Eorzea truly freed from Garlemald's grasp?" Gogonji continued, turning back towards Pa'Nito and Aerygoeya to further drive the point home. The concern in the Seeker's eyes had faded, the Lalafell noted quickly, likely replaced with eager dreams of adoration and many a Miqo'te female seeking his attentions - of a respect he obviously felt long overdue. "All it requires that first, crucial step. A step that should have been made already, but has been hindered by politics and squabbling."

 

"And we..." He punctuated his point by slapping the rolled up map into an upturned palm. "Khamja will be the ones that push them into making it. Whether they like it or not."

 

~*~

 

"I still do not trust them," Annunu finally spoke after the other Commanders had departed. She had spoken of her concerns before, when she had returned with the information on Aerygoeya's main targets. She had been weary and sullen then, and had since been ordered to rest in preparation for the upcoming operation. And yet this issue continued to gnaw at her, much to Gogonji's annoyance. He had hoped his words and a night's rest would have have also put such concerns to rest as well.

 

"As I said before, they are but tools," the green-haired Dunesfolk intoned. He considered her a tool as well, of course - he had told her as such and she seemed content enough with it. She was a tool that knew and understood that she was a tool, and made sure to make herself useful to keep from being discarded. Which was perhaps why he felt just that little more comfortable speaking with her. "Screws to be put to Garlemald to bring forth the results I desire."

 

She gave a simple nod, though how satisfied she was by the answer was hard to tell. Just as when she had first appeared before him at the Bobbing Cork, Annunu remained a difficult individual to read - a trait that continued to vex Gogonji. The one time she had showed anything resembling honest concern and emotion was when speaking of his own well-being, but he would be a fool not to think it possibly a way in which to endear herself to him. And yet, his "eyes" had confirmed her stealthy assaults on the Castrums beyond the first, his contacts had revealed the truth in her estrangement with Chuta and the death of her father. If this was a Garlean bluff, then the rabbit hole of her deception was quite deep indeed.

 

And yet, some small part of him genuinely wanted to believe that it wasn't a bluff; that there was another whose situation somewhat mirrored his own. She had said that, like him, all she had left to live for was the goal Khamja was striving for. That she would serve and protect him, aid him in achieving this vengeance on the nation that so brazenly took his family and home from him. And he wanted to believe it.

 

"After all," he continued, "remember that I spoke only of the 'positives.' I spoke naught of the conflict that will arise from sinking Eorzea and Garlemald back into bitter war. Of the true likelihood of a ramshackle 'organization' like the Eorzean Alliance to actually withstand a concerted Garlean effort, should one be fully brought to bear."

 

What the Alliance had managed before, when the Warrior of Light and his hodgepodge band had overcome Gaius, had been little more than dealing with a mere fraction of Garlemald's power. A single hound that had escaped its leash. There were many more hounds that awaited in their pen, ready to pounce should they too be loosed from their cages. How many that might be roused by this act, however, was the real question. And yet, at the same time, it was a question whose answer mattered little - as long as attention was drawn.

 

For, after all, what better way to bypass the hounds than to bait them with fresh meat?

 

"Not only that, but where I would be in all this was also kept from them." A lie, at least somewhat. Despite his hotheadedness and brash behavior, Gogonji felt it prudent to at least let Erwin in on his hand in things. Which was perhaps why he had been so quick to back Pa'Nito's claims about the nature of his relationship with Annunu. At least the Highlander still had enough wherewithal to drown out any potential chance at leaking information with alcohol.

 

His Eyes, too, were at least vaguely aware that he would be going to the same Castrum as Annunu. The one overseeing it would be joining them personally, in fact, while the rest tailed the other Commanders to ensure they did as they were ordered. A shadowy second set of Doman sub-Commanders ready to make up for any faults, and violently so if needed. For it would be foolish to put overmuch trust in any one of them given the scope of his plans.

 

... As much as that niggling little bit of him told him it would be nice to believe in them. If even for just a little bit. A tiny mote in his mind that spoke in a voice that seemed almost familiar.

[Gegenji]

Here it is. The moment that came into my mind months ago, back when I started thinking about Gogonji and Chachanji's relationship. It was the original idea of this scene that spurred the entire story into existence, from what led up to it and what will follow. It's not the same, of course, having adapted and shifted due to the flow of the story and the interactions between Gogon, Chachan, and those who were generous enough to have them as a part of their characters' lives. In fact, I still have the snippets of original idea from a little back and forth I had with Roen early in my time at the RPC, and I might even include them in a separate little post after this just to show how things shifted and changed over time.

 

As always, I have some issues with this bit. It's a big moment - the final meeting between Chachan and Gogon. And I spent days trying to figure out how it would happen, what would be said, how it would flow. This is... what I managed, at least, and it still seems... off somehow. Maybe because I'm trying to get into the heads of both characters simultaneously.

 

Or maybe a part of me is screaming how bad and cliche it all is. Or maybe I'm just being a worry-wort as usual. Regardless, I hope it's at least enough to get the situation across... and be at least a mildly enjoyable read.

 

To start things off, the music as usual. Since this scene - or the barest skeleton of it - has been sitting in my head for a while now, a few songs have come and gone for what would best fit the scene. Even now, I'm not sure if this one works completely but... it'll do for now. I'll probably hear something better later and swap it out...

 

We'll see, I suppose.

-fKp9exxdDI

 

 

Fate is an odd thing.

 

Perched over her loom, the Spinner weaves many different threads together in ways that may oftentimes seem strange or even haphazard at the time. People, places, and things coming together in ways one couldn't possibly understand or predict, and these meetings make sense only once Nymeia has finished spinning that particular tapestry. And yet, even without Nymeia's lengthy sight, there are sometimes threads that one can't help but expect to entwine once again down the line. This was one such meeting.

 

Like many other such meetings, it was an event that seemed to happen purely by chance. Gogonji just so happened to be heading to check on his eyes at the Castrum Centri - the impending start of his grand operation making him nervous, restless, and eager to ensure that every little detail was in place. And so, he had retrieved Annelace from the Chocobokeep's stables, and was in the middle of leading her to the Toll's western gate. Towards the Fogfens and the Garlean encampment that sat like an overripe boil on the other end of it. He would have just ridden her through the throngs of unwashed masses, but the last thing he wanted to do was draw unnecessary attention to himself so close to operation start.

 

So ironic, then, that his slower going would result in catching the strangest of attentions. Someone who just so happened to be wrapping up a sort of mini vacation, far away from his Free Company after the sudden end of a relationship. Someone who only just finished the project set upon him by his father in part for his sudden exodus from their original home, and in part for his lodging in their new home at the Toll. Had he taken but a minute or two longer or finished ahead of schedule, and Chachanji might not have seen the white-feathered chocobo and, by extension, its owner as he stepped out of the Garlond Ironworks.

 

And yet, in retrospect, it seemed like it couldn't happen any other way.

 

"... G-Go-nii?" The childish nickname stumbled out of the young Free Paladin's mouth without thinking, evoked by the sudden appearance of his older brother right in front of him. He had expected to hear about his whereabouts from Leanne's various contacts, expected to have time to ready himself and prepare for finally meeting his brother after so many cycles. Nymeia wasn't quite so kind.

 

If Gogonji heard the sudden gasp, he paid it little heed - simply dismissing it as another figment of his imagination, another attempt of that niggling little feeling in the back of his mind to dissuade him from his revenge. Instead, he continued maneuvering through the crowds with Annelace's reins wrapped tightly about his right hand and his thoughts firmly on the task at hand. Troop numbers, equipment, patrol routes, strengths, weaknesses - all the information that had been gathered either by him or for him being mulled over as he moved with an unwavering single-mindedness towards the western gate. This left Chachanji at a strange crossroads.

 

Should he go back into the Ironworks and tell his father? The man had been gruff enough at the return of his youngest to his doorstep those scant suns ago, immediately setting the boy to task making the plates and other components for the vastly popular Magitek-inspired Garlond armor and weapons. Even if he got to the family head in time to bring him to his brother, what would come of it? Perhaps another argument, like the one that had caused Gogonji's original departure. Chachanji couldn't risk this good fortune by having their father drive the elder brother away again. He stepped down one of the steps.

 

What about Nininya or his mother, then? They would certainly react better to seeing the eldest Gegenji child after so long apart, and could serve as a buffer for their father once he returned home. And yet, that also meant making a mad dash back to the house to look for them. Gogonji could be long gone before then, leaving Chachanji just as empty-handed as before. He took another two steps.

 

Calling for a friend over a linkpearl? Getting Avenger from the Chocobokeep? Similar problems - they would take time Chachanji wasn't entirely sure he had to spare. And, while he didn't feel at all ready to deal with this sudden meeting alone, he also knew that he had little choice if he wanted to have the meeting at all. He either approached Gogonji now or risk losing him again. He was in the crowd now, pushing towards the western gate.

 

What would he say? What would he do? How would his older brother react? Leanne had said that Gogonji thought him and the rest of his family dead, after all. A myriad of questions all ran through his panicked mind as the little Lalafell forced his way through the crowd.

 

And yet, despite the endless questions - the doubts and the fears that dominated his thoughts - there was one thought that rung crystal clear in Chachanji's mind. That he had to get his brother's attention. He had to say something, anything. And so, as he slipped the tumultuous grasp of the Toll's citizenship and stumbled out the western gate, little Chachan shouted the only thing he could think of.

 

"GO-NII! WAIT!"

 

And that was enough. The older Gegenji froze in the middle of mounting his snowy-feathered bird, his foot slipping free of the saddle's rung. A nervous laugh bubbled out of Chachanji's throat as he padded is way past the guardhouse and down the slope a ways towards his older brother. Despite his arms still hurting from the hundreds of hammer-falls he had performed under the watchful gaze of his father, the little Doman waved in greeting. And wondered what to say next.

 

Gogonji remained still, his violet gaze affixed upon the saddle cinched firmly onto Annelace's back. His grip on one of the saddlebags he was using as leverage tightened, his already pale knuckles coloring to match his Chocobo's feathers. The words that he muttered came out at little more than a whisper.

 

"How dare you..."

 

"A-ah?" Chachan murmured as he drew up alongside brother and bird. "D-did ya say somethin', G-G..." It felt weird speaking to him for the first time in cycles. "Go-nii."

 

It was only Warren's intense training - and his numerous appearances at the Grindstone as part of said training - that caused Chachanji to reflexively jerk back at the faint clicking sound, dodging the bite of the blade that suddenly slashed out at him shortly after. He staggered, in surprise of his own reaction as well as the sudden assault upon him, and fell rather unceremoniously on his backside. When his eyes opened from the initial shock of impact, the youngest Gegenji child found the point of the blade set neatly at his throat. And at the other end was the eldest, a murderous glare burning through the spectacles affixed to his face.

 

"How dare you!" Gogonji repeated, his tone steeped in venom as he took a step forward. Chachan was forced to scrabble back a few ilms to avoid getting his neck punctured. "Not enough to act like you know my brother, is it!? You have the gall to try pretending to be him!?"

 

"P-pretendin'? What do ya--"

 

"Silence!" Chachanji was forced to abandon his questioning as he dove to the side, lest his head be removed from his shoulders. The blade came to rest at Gogonji's side, tip lightly grazing the dirt road at their feet. With his free hand, the elder brother pointed accusingly at the younger; his head tilted at a disturbing angle. "Filthy Garlean, how low are you willing to stoop?"

 

"I-I'm not a Garlean!" Chachan pleaded, Leanne's words flitting briefly through his mind once more. "I-it's me! Chacha--"

 

"Enough of the lies!" Gogonji lunged forward again, thrusting at the other Lalafell's chest. Again, it was the training that put Chachan's always-handy smithing hammer in the way to deflect the blade aside. The hefty tool, as large as his torso, had been made in the image of the one their father used, and grabbed the older Gegenji child's attention. Even his out-of-practice smith's eye could recognize the style of the hammer, as well as identify the obvious difference in craftsmanship, and that just incensed him further.

 

"You can't stop me! You won't stop me!" the older Doman Lalafell screeched in rage, slashing viciously with each statement. "You will not stop me!"

 

"I'm not stoppin' nothin'!" Chachanji wailed in response, the wild attacks keeping him solely on the defensive. Ducking and weaving and blocking with his hammer in a desperate attempt to keep that surprisingly skilled blade from catching him in someplace vital. "I don't even know what yer doin'!"

 

"You'd like me to believe that, wouldn't you!?"

 

Something was wrong, something that nagged at Gogonji's thoughts like an irritating bug bite.

 

"You'd like me to believe that my brother survived!"

 

Ever since he laid eyes on this... this doppelganger... it had been bothering him. Perhaps even before then, back when that Miqo'te confronted him at the Bobbing Cork. It was hard to say.

 

"That he just happened to be here in Mor Dhona with the rest of the refugees this whole time!"

 

What he could say was that there were too many inconsistencies. If the Garlean spies knew about the earring and the hammer and how he taught little Chachanji a little bit of Arcanima, then how were they still so far off on so many other things? Why give him a stupid hodgepodge Eorzean accent when he could speak the language clearly enough thanks to the Garlean occupation? Why have him carry about a shoddy knockoff of their father's hammer when it would only raise further questions?

 

"Just so happened to be there as I left the town!"

 

And the hair. Chachanji's hair was certainly fluffy and messy like on this fake, they'd gotten that much right. However, it had always been straight green like his own - not this... oddball green-and-white number that vaguely reminded him of a tree in winter. Did they half-ass the dye job due to time constraints?

 

"And just happened to recognize me after over fifteen cycles apart!"

 

They had gotten the proper eye color, the freckles, and even the face was disturbingly close to matching Gogonji's own - if he were to shave off his facial hair. So why all the bizarre and obvious differences after having so many other aspects spot on? Was it just a matter of Garlean arrogance and pride, trying to be fancy with these... these "liberties" in how an older Chachanji might look like? But such things wouldn't make any good tactical sense!

 

Unless...

 

"... Of course I recognized ya," Chachanji murmured as he let his hammer fall to his side, his free hand rising to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Yer me brother, Go-nii..."

 

Unless it's...

 

The blade slipped from Gogonji's grasp and clattered noisily against the ground as he stumbled back, as if he had been struck, his violet gaze affixed on the other pair of orbs that so nearly matched his own. Eyes that still held that childish adoration he remembered far too well, mixed with confusion and sadness. That horrible kicked puppy look that brought to mind the time when his little brother had dropped that axe on his head, and Gogonji first made use of his Arcanima. Only this time directed fully at him.

 

Unless it's really him...

 

No.

"No."

 

He couldn't be alive, Gogonji told himself as a familiar tension seemed to build in the back of his skull. After all, if he was, then what was the point of everything he had done up to this point? From the Garleans he slaughtered against the backdrop of a razed Doma, to the formation of Khamja to amass a force to strike at Garlemald, to even the twisting of his research to more violent ends. It had all been done under the belief, the fact that the Garleans had taken his family from him. It was because of that truth that he had lied and cheated and killed as he had, all in the name of divine retribution for that single, inexcusable act. It was to be an eye for an eye, blood for blood; they had taken away his everything, so he would take away theirs.

 

He's dead.

"He's dead."

 

Even now, his Commanders were mobilizing their respective Khamjan soldiers, readying them to march under the guise of the Eorzean Alliance. Their simultaneous attacks would incite the warmongering Garleans to retaliate and engulf the continent in bloody war once again. An affair Gogonji knew would cause heavy losses on both sides - even amongst his own men, who were to continue to fight and fan the flames - but that had all been easily dismissed as being necessary steps in Garlemald's comeuppance. For Khamja, the Eorzean Alliance, and even his Commanders were naught but tools to bring about that needed vengeance he had so deeply longed for. So much time and energy and money had been spent bringing things to this, the great tipping point.

 

They're all dead.

"They're all dead."

 

So much had been done, so much was about to be done, that even considering that it could all be built off false pretenses was ludicrous. It was an impossibility, it had to be. Because without such obvious justification, without the burning light of justice as his back, then would he be naught but a bloodthirsty madman? A murderer who was about to condemn hundreds upon thousands of people to their deaths for slights that did not exist? One who was so far gone as to lash out at the very person he had suffered all this for!?

 

"By Garlean hands."

 

The other Lalafell was approaching him again, the one that claimed to be Gogonji's dead brother. The brother whom he had told stories of heroism just before turning off the lights, who he had heard speak of wanting to help and save people as he swung a branch like a sword in their backyard. Such a dim-witted, caring individual wouldn't be able to understand what his older brother had done for him, what was going to happen in his name. So, even if Gogonji was foolish enough to believe that he was really who he said he was, everything the older Lalafell had set into motion would ensure that Chachanji would still be lost him regardless. For who would want an older brother so willing to send thousands to their deaths, let alone someone as tenderhearted as his little brother?

 

The tension in the back of his mind snapped, and it all came to him in strange, simple clarity. It was so obvious: it truly was nothing more than a failed Garlean trick. The discrepancies in the disguise were merely failings on the part of Garlemald, errors in their disguises that his keen mind had caught so very easily despite his willingness to believe his brother's survival. He certainly wouldn't have drawn steel and attacked his brother - the one he had done everything for - and ensured that he could never again return to his family. He would've been able to tell the difference.

 

Besides, they were gone. Returned to the aether. And he would join them soon enough, steeped heavily in the blood of all those that had allowed their deaths to happen. He would rejoin them then.

 

And then they would be together.

 

"By your hands!"

 

A practiced motion - just two clicks - and the knowledge flooded forth from the Rousers. Arcanima and Black Magic, jostling with ancient Paladin knowledge and memories already in his mind to the point that he felt his skull might crack from the pressure. He wouldn't need it all for very long, though. Just long enough to show those foolish Garleans that he would not be so easily tricked. He would make an example of this spy, this fool who dared approach him under the guise of his lost brother, to any others who happened to be watching from afar.

 

The second casting of the "Big Damn Fireball" - Gogonji had never bothered to name it, content to just remain aware of its potency - was just as violent as the first, deep within the Ampadoran ruins. Part of the slope melted away like the the morning mists as the brilliant orange and indigo blast engulfed it, its hues reflected in Gogonji's lenses. And just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone; leaving only the hissing smoke and missing cliff side to mark its passing. Gogonji's hands remained thrust out in front of him for a few seconds before weakly dropping to his sides. That same drained feeling as before, mixed with that heady combination of elation and power.

 

And mingled in with all that was a small sense of pride. Pride that he had so handily rebuked the Garleans and their tricks at every turn. Pride that he had, at least in some small way, avenged his brother by removing the fool who tried so hard to pose as him. And pride that, in a matter of suns, he would fully avenge Chachanji along with the rest of his family. He just had to make sure it all went according to plan. For them.

 

Still woozy after that headache-inducing rush of power and knowledge, Gogonji stumbled to where Annelace had retreated to during the sudden combat. A few weary, soft words beckoned the white-feathered Chocobo out from her hiding spot. A few shaky, careful motions had the eldest Gegenji child up and into her saddle, and a few more had them both in motion. Off to Castrum Centri, as originally planned.

 

All that was left to mark his passing was the bite taken out from the cliff side - still smoking slightly from the sudden landscaping - and a scroll. A scroll that had come loose in all the thrashing and slashing and the backlash of the fireball. An errand wind seemed eager to help clear up that remnant, however, sending the rolled up parchment skittering towards the cliff edge. It teetered there, seeming hesitant to make the drop, before a second gust sent it careening downwards.

 

The scroll clattered and bounced and spun in its descent, smacking against stone and knocking loose the bits of gravel and dirt unlucky enough to be in its path. It landed with a surprisingly solid thunk on a patch of green, shortly followed by a rain of debris. Said patch groaned and shifted, the battered head that it was attached to turning up just enough to see the speck of white fading into the miasma of the Fogfens. An arm, cut and bruised from the sudden fall, nonetheless tried to reach out towards the retreating form of Gogonji and Annelace.

 

"G-Go-nii..."

 

And then darkness came.

[Gegenji]

THIS POST IS ALL OOC STUFF!

 

The following is what I had as a sort of "rough draft" back when I first started on this story path for Gogon. A lot of things changed, as you'll see. Gogon was more... openly arrogant, more melodramatic and dismissive. And a lot less paranoid and off-kilter than he ended up. He recognizes his brother and doesn't seem to care at all about him, which really didn't fit with the development of their relationship in their youth. It definitely hits the "corrupted WoL" angle I was originally going for a bit better, though, I think. Even considering the cheesy villanous line I included.

 

There are some other minor differences as well. Gogon had his Fairy out - which still had the "default" name of Lily instead of Ezra. Chachan still had his mispronunciation and slang thing going strong here, though. Even if he didn't have the cutesy nickname for his older brother.

 

"I... returned home recently," Gogo admitted quietly. "To Doma."

 

Chachanji blinked, the violet eyes he shared with his brother clouded with confusion. Perhaps sensing his younger brother's silent prodding for clarification, Gogonji turned to face Chacha more fully. His own eyes, glimmering like amethysts, were alight with an inner fire. The intensity of his elder brother's stare set the boy back a step.

 

"I finally thought I had the proof I needed to convince Father," Gogonji explained. "I had studied and practiced and guided many a battle through tactics and wit. I had descended on the remnant knowledge of Nym and scoured what I could from its cobwebbed stores. I caught the first ship back home that I could, treatises and theories clutched to my chest with ink still wet."

 

The older of the two paused for a beat, before continuing in a lower tone.

 

"I saw it happen. I saw the city engulfed in all-consuming flame." Gogonji's eyes dropped to his hands, held open in front of him. Those small hands balled tightly into fists. The next words were spat, as if coated in venom. "And I could do nothing."

 

"So go see Papa 'n Mama 'n Nin!" Chachanji pressed, gesticulating and pointing back towards the city in the distance. "They're here! Safe! In Mor Dhona!"

 

"It's not ABOUT that anymore.." Again Gogonji trailed off, though this time he raised a hand to his head, his fingers brushing lightly against his temple. His burning eyes grew hazy, as if lost in a thick fog. Chachanji reached out to his brother, to catch him should he fall. Yet, just as quickly as the weakness seemed to come, it left again. "... I see. You should understand, then. It's not about HAVING this knowledge anymore, it's about USING it."

 

"What...?" His brother's words continued to press Chachanji deeper into a vast pool of confusion. He spoke with an unwavering confidence that the younger brother failed to understand. He had not spoke of his desire to use the arms and armor rather than sell them until long after Gogonji's departure. Maybe he had learned of Chacha's exploits through some manner or another?

 

"So I head to the Castrum Centri, to finally put my plans into action."

 

Then it clicked.

 

"Yer gonna attack th' Garleans."

 

"No." Gogonji's words were as cold as the Coerthas winds. "I mean to annihilate them."

 

"But... but...!" The words flowed out of Chacha's mouth in a jumbled panic. "Yer just one lala! 'N... 'n... what if th' Garleans think it's the Alliance attackin'!?"

 

"They'll see it as an excuse to counterattack, an excuse they need... an excuse they want." The words that followed caused a shiver to run down Chachanji's spine. "And in that fog of war will my opportunity arise." He drew his tome from his side and flipped it open with a practiced ease, tapping at the formulae within for emphasis. "I have foreseen it."

 

"But... but...!" Chacha was like a skipping record, though his voiced complaints were of a different sort this turn on the vinyl. "How can ya be sure? Are ya really willin' ta throw th' Alliance under th' chocobo cart fer yer plans!?"

 

"My calculations do not lie."

 

"But ya could cause th' death of hundreds! Thousands!" Chacha exclaimed. "On both sides!"

 

"Acceptable losses."

 

"Acceptab--" Chachanji started repeating before the weight of the words hit him like a falling goobbue. "Ya... ya can't mean that."

 

"I can." Gogonji looked up from his tome, his glare steely and unwavering. "And do."

 

"Well... well... well..." Chachanji looked about panickedly, trying to think of something - anything - he could do. "What if I go tell sumbuddy? I could be back in town right quick!"

 

"With the immobile mass that is the Alliance? By the time they stop arguing semantics with each other, it would already be too late. And the Garleans would not pass up a chance to expand their empire, and they are too blind to imagine they could be defeated by a lone lalafell from a destroyed city." Gogonji snapped his book shut with an air of finality. "You, my dear brother, are a non-factor."

 

Gogonji turned then, starting to walk away. Towards Castrum Centri. To descend Eorzea into war once again in order to exact his twisted plan of revenge. Chachanji had to do something, so he leapt on the first thing that came to mind, as usual.

 

"Oh... oh yeah?" he countered weakly, slipping his blade from its scabbard with a sharp hiss. "Well what if this 'nuhn-facter' strikes you down here!?"

 

And with that challenge, Chachanji rushed his brother.

 

...

 

"Hmph, I see you've gained some skill with a blade. Too bad it means nothing."

 

Gogonji whirled suddenly, bashing aside Chachanji's sword with his book, and bringing his own tempered blade to point at his younger brother's throat. Among the numerous strange, silvery bands strapped up his arms, the soul crystals in to of them flared to brilliant light - the Paladin and the Scholar. Using two soul crystals at once? Was such a thing possible!?

 

"You don't GET it, Chacha!" Gogonji snapped, with more feeling than Chachanji ever heard - even counting the overheard fight with their father. "You build yourself on hopes and dreams! They are intangible, unmeasureable, USELESS. It's knowledge that brings power. Through these crystals I gain knowledge, through manipulation of the Echo do I learn still more! It is with this knowledge that I will confront the Garleans for the razing of Doma. And it is with this knowledge that I will throw them all DOWN."

 

"... Gogo... what's happened to you...?"

 

"I heard, I felt, I thought." He stated simply. His piece said, he glanced briefly to his Fairy. "Come, Lily, we're leaving."

 

With those enigmatic words, the older Gegenji brother turned sharply on his heel and walked away. The Fairy spared the younger brother a worried glance before flitting after her master, leaving the younger to stand aghast in the middle of Fogfens. Alone, Chachanji slumped to his knees.

 

 

I'll say that there's parts of it I like... better than what I ended up with? But I had a hard time rationalizing them with the changes that had come over Gogon over the course of his story. Maybe I'll be able to adapt some of it back in later... but we'll have to see about that.

 

Other than that, though, the next part of this is the event. With map in hand, Chachan is going to reach out to his friends, to aid in stopping this operation before it starts. I'm going to be working with a sort of "flex time" here. In the story, it's within the next day or two, but the actual date of the event will be a bit further away than than in real time. Once I have the thread up, though, I will link to it here - and vice versa.

 

And then we will see what becomes of Gogonji's plan.

 

EDIT: And the event thread is up!

[Gegenji]

What? More!?

 

Yeah. While the lead-up to and the event itself is over, there's still bits and pieces of aftermath to deal with. A lot of it will be occurring over IG RP and such, but there'll still be bits of story I'd like to just hammer out on my lonesome. I hope no one minds. :blush:

 

Oh, it should be noted that there's a lot of other stuff spinning off from this event! Like Artemis' dealings with the drained Soul Crystals, and what happened after John used his powers to try and help Gogonji. Not to mention Annunu. Please give them a look too!

 

For now, something that actually stems from yesterday's RP with John. I hope you enjoy.

 

And, as always, some music.

oWTC7P1Dprw

 

I was actually listening to this for most of my RP with John. It was very... eerie and atmospheric. I hope you like. :lol:

 

 

 

He had been defeated.

 

Somehow, someone got wind of his plan and brought together a ragtag bunch of ruffians that came together and systematically unraveled everything he had built towards. All in the span of a few bells, everything his had worked and bled for had been dashed. His Commanders were intercepted and incarcerated, their underlings laid low or set to flight, and even his Eyes - established as a fail-safe against his Commanders' failures - had been overcome. In the case of that braggart Aerygoeya, he hadn't even made it out of his initial staging point - stopped before he could even truly begin.

 

If that had been all, however, he might have recovered. After all, they were mainly to serve as distractions and reignite the simmering flame between the Eorzean Alliance and Garlemald, to draw eyes away from his true objective. As long as he had succeeded in his infiltration into Castrum Centri, he could have snuck aboard the supply airship as it retreated and struck at the heart of that despicable nation. For killing his family and razing his home, he would take from them their Emperor and their capital. That had been the plan, kept close to his breast in fear it would be discovered.

 

Overambitious? Very. Ultimately fatalistic? Quite likely. And yet, when the various threads wove together into a plan of attack - the possibility of him dying seemed so... insignificant in the light of divine retribution.

 

Somehow, she had changed that.

 

Originally considered little more than a hard-to-read nuisance and possible Garlean plant, the Lalafell known as Annunu Nunu had remained steadfast at his side since she appeared before him at the Bobbing Cork. For some unfathomable reason, she refused to leave him; going so far as to give up on everything she had - including a potential marriage, if the proposal at the pilgrimage for Thaliak was to be believed - in order to do so. All to be little more than his weapon to be used in his bloody campaign of revenge against the nation of Garlemald, and she seemed content with that.

 

But slowly, Gogonji began to realize that he didn't. He had no logical reason to make her the fourth Commander, to alter his plan to have her accompany him on an other-wise one-man mission with the rest of his unit serving as a distraction, yet he did. When she referred to herself as a tool the sun prior to the operation - on the very ledge they had first met, those many moons ago - he had felt a strange pang of regret. He had - for a reason that continued to elude him - felt inclined to give her his true name, rather than the monicker he had been using for so long. And yet it still bothered him when she called him "Master" Gogonji.

 

And that was why, rather than simply abandoning her when that aforementioned bad of miscreants burst into Castrum Centri to pursue him, he ordered her to retreat and rejoin him. And, when she did - battered and bloody, dragging herself across the cold floor of the Castrum to return to him - that a sudden fear welled inside of him. A fear that built into a rage not unlike what he had experienced in Doma, when he had seen all that he had lost. And yet this was different - he could do something here, he could save her.

 

And in his fury, in his upwelling of rage and emotion, his hold on that metaphysical prison in his own mind began to weaken. In his desperate battle against the eight arrayed against him, he pushed himself to a limit he had only done twice before, and then - goaded by the voices that were not his own - he went far beyond it.  And, within seconds, the cage burst.

 

Memories, ambitions, and desires - all encountered piecemeal before - erupted from the dark part of his mind like a tidal wave. It swept him up and engulfed him, drowning him in thoughts not his own. And it was all he could do as he watched as the spirits of the Soul Crystals - the ten ancient heroes that refused to be forgotten - moved his body like a puppet, spoke through his mouth like he was some Garlean radio transmitter. But without the familiarity of the body they housed, and without Gogonji's will forcing them to work together, they conflicted and clashed and fought for control of the Lalafell's body to overcome the threat before them. And, divided, they fell.

 

And, in that brief moment before unconsciousness, Gogonji's mind was wholly his again, if only for a moment. He saw his brother, weeping and casting the same spell he had taught him all those cycles ago - even using the made up words he had added for flair - to mend his broken form. He saw Annunu, desperate to get any sign of life out of him, to ensure that he had not passed on and left her behind. And those who had fought to stop him, now sought to save him. It was with those thoughts that he fell into the blackness.

 

And now, as he slumbered, the same mental fortitude that he had used to confine the ancient thoughts and memories within the darkest part of his mind was now being used to wall himself away from the turbulent chaos within his own head. The awakened soul fragments - absorbed into him somehow during that final clash - raged outside his mental barrier, clashing against each other just as much as against his own psyche. Like before, they sought to overwhelm him, to consume him, to become him. To walk again upon Hydaelyn in a new vessel, and to affect the world through more than just the passing of knowledge through crystal.

 

Gogonji, however, refused to submit. The outermost shell of his barrier was wrought of the memory of that moment he had lost himself to them in the Castrum, bolstered by the fear and a stubborn refusal to let such a thing happen again. Behind it, reinforcing it, was his promise to Annunu and his brother - the brother he had so surely thought lost to him - that he wouldn't lose to these ancient souls. And, mixed with that, was every moment when Annunu quietly pleaded for him to to survive - to live. And Gogonji refused to deny her.

 

Bell upon bell upon bell since his fall, the soul fragments assailed his mental bastion. All energy gained from slumber was redirected solely in maintaining that barrier, maintaining his own identity against the conflicting egos. Every bell felt like an eternity, each passing second a chance he might slip and they'd overrun his defenses.

 

It was no help, then, when he felt another enter his mind. He had felt it so many times before - artificially through the use of his Wakener and its derivative Rousers - that he recognized it almost instantly. A Miqo'te - and an Arcanist at that - delving into his mind through some unknown method. His name was John. And his intent, unlike the raging fragments, was benign... and foolish.

 

Gogonji himself had spent much time being able to withstand and reject just two or three fragments' worth of memories. John, however, was diving into a vicious swirl of ten - and was quickly engulfed as the Lalafell had been at the Castrum. He drowned and flailed against the sights, sounds, and sensations before colliding against Gogonji's mental wall. And the Lalafell was left with but moments to make a decision.

 

Should he let the Miqo'te in? He would be safe inside the barrier, if none of the soul fragments slipped in with him. However, that would leave him just as trapped as Gogonji - worse so since it was in a mind not his own.

 

Should he just let John drown, then? It seemed the easy answer - it would require no effort of his own. And, perhaps, the soul fragments would move to latch on to the Miqo'te's form over his, freeing him from this torment.

 

And yet, before he fell under the onslaught, John had called for help. And one of the names he called for was Chachanji - his brother. He had used whatever power he had to dive into Gogonji's mind on behalf of his younger brother, and was going to lose himself because of it. And Gogonji refused.

 

With a statement that was both defiance against the soul fragments and a message for John to take with him, Gogonji forced the Miqo'te back out of his mind and into his own body. The fragments only then noticed the new arrival amidst their chaos - the new opportunity - but it was too late. The link was severed, and they were again left only each other and the Lalafell's psyche to assail. And yet, something was off...

 

"How astute." The voice came from within the barrier, within his safety zone. "And prudent."

 

Gogonji shifted in his sleep as his turned his mental attentions onto the intruder, seeking to expel it back out beyond his barrier and into the whirling chaos beyond. And yet, something about the fragment gave him pause, and he found himself in the Scholar's war room. It was all grayed out - the other members of the council naught but detail-less shadows, save for one. And despite never seeing it before, Gogonji knew it to be the Scholar.

 

"How'd you get in?" Gogonji demanded immediately, taking a step forward and scattering the figures scattered across the great map.

 

"How did I?" the Scholar echoed, turning the question back on him. Despite having asked the question, Gogonji already knew the answer: "When I ejected John."

 

"Correct." the Scholar affirmed with a nod. It was no surprise that a master tactician would be the first to notice and act upon a moment of weakness. That brief instant when Gogonji gathered energy to expel John, he had left himself open. It was then that the Scholar had breached his defenses while the rest feuded beyond it. "That was quite the snap judgment - saving that man from the madness and using him as a courier simultaneously."

 

"It was the best option," Gogonji countered flatly as he defiantly folded his arms over his chest. If the Scholar was offended by the Lalafell's curtness, he didn't show it. Instead he continued to gaze at the Doman, seeming to be looking at him and through him at the same time. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before the Scholar spoke again, the other fragments raging noisily against the barrier just beyond the mental landscape.

 

"You have learned much of tactics. Both on your own and through... my crystal." The Scholar seemed uncomfortable for but a moment, as if unwilling to admit that his presence in the world had dwindled to no more than a hunk of solidified aether. "Your value of knowledge of all sorts, in fact, is noteworthy. As is your mind, for even managing to hold so stalwartly against so many threats."

 

"Your point?"

 

The Nymian's lip curled upward slightly.

 

"My point?" he echoed. "Since breaching your defenses, I have been perusing your memories, as you did to me with your strange device. The world out there..." The fragment hesitated again. "... is not mine. Nym has fallen, its people warped into alien forms, and the world beyond it is just as foreign to me."

 

The Scholar folded his hands behind his back, taking a couple steps towards the window of this mind-wrought chamber. Beyond it was naught but an image of the distant past, like a painting had been set in place of it. Like the fragment had said, what was truly beyond was nothing like what the Nymian remembered or knew.

 

"But you... you sought the knowledge of my people. To adapt and use in your era. The history of my people lives on in you and those like you. Through that knowledge, we endure." The Scholar turned his head towards the Lalafell. "And so, I shall give it to you."

 

"Give what?" Gogonji pressed, looking both wary and yet intrigued by the fragment's words.

"My knowledge, my memories, all that is left of me," the Nymian explained. "Who I am... who I was... no longer exists. And so, like your fellow Scholar said - I will leave things to the future. To you."

 

The chamber began to flicker and distort. The image beyond the window darkened and dissolved away, followed by the window and the wall around it. The table, the shadowy figures, everything fell apart like a sand dune under a harsh wind until all that remained was the floating forms of the Scholar and Gegenji. The former held up a hand, fragments swirling about it to form a glowing sphere. Within its glassy surface, images of the Nymian's life appeared and faded away on eternal loop.

 

"All I ask is a single favor. A boon to be given before I commit myself to nothingness."

 

Gogonji was hesitant. Was it a trick? A ploy to get him to lower his defenses and consume him? The Scholar noted the Lalafell's reluctance and chuckled.

 

"You are wary," he stated. "However, there is naught to gain from my seeking to overcome you. Your knowledge would be lost - for I have not your... ability - and I would be left to fend against the other fragments on my lonesome. A dire position indeed. And, even if I somehow overcame them all, I would be in a body not my own in a world not my own."

 

"Ability?" Gogonji queried. "... the Echo?"

 

The Nymian didn't answer. Instead, he turned fully to face Gogonji, that sphere of memories and knowledge floating in the space between his hands. It hovered in front of him like a fortune teller divining the future through her crystal ball. The Scholar's expression was firm as he spoke again.

 

"It would be prudent, then, to ensure my knowledge lives on. So I cast my lot with you. However..." His tone was grim. "Should you fall here, both our combined knowledge and experience would be lost - to whoever wins that free-for-all raging outside your walls. It is upon you to either destroy them... or win them over, and have them join you as I have... in order to fully overcome this ordeal."

 

"You sound confident I'll accept your... 'you'," Gogonji snapped, canting his head to one side.

 

"Do you reject it?"

 

Gogonji was silent for a moment before answering.

 

"... You requested a favor of me," he stated. "Speak it and perhaps I will honor it."

 

"In the War of the Magi, one of those lost in the bloody conflict was my wife," the Scholar intoned even as his form began to flicker and sink into the sphere. "In solemn remembrance of her, I gave her name to another."

 

The sphere floated lazily towards Gogonji, stopping a short distance from his chest. It waited, patiently, seeming to stare up at the Lalafell expectantly. The Doman stared at it in turn, saying and doing nothing for the longest time. Until, finally, he unfolded his arms and held a hand out to rest upon the essence of the ancient Nymian.

 

"Take care of Ezra."

 

The sphere flared brilliantly, and a warmth shot up Gogonji's arm. The knowledge that he had taken so forcefully before using the Rousers was there again, at his fingertips. And yet, it was different. It didn't feel stolen or forced. It felt like knowledge he had gained himself, garnered from fuzzy memories that felt more like his own than they had ever felt before. He knew they weren't truly his, but they didn't feel quite so foreign anymore either.

 

And, above Gogonji's sleeping form, a pinprick of light appeared as if from nowhere. It swelled and grew and spun above the Medical Ward's bed until, with a gentle pop, it burst open. And from within, a small winged form unfurled and opened her eyes. She looked about, she chimed in confusion, and then... Ezra swooped down to check on her Master.

[Gegenji]

Another segment brought to mind after some wonderful RP recently with Howl (as Annunu) and Virara.

 

I'll be completely honest - I'm not entirely sure how (or if) Gogon will overcome or appease all ten fragments latched onto his soul. Scholar seemed simple enough - it was the only one he actually learned properly instead of siphoning the knowledge from the get-go using his Wakener or one of the Rousers. Not to mention I feel Scholar still resonates best as the job most fitting for Gogon.

 

As for the rest? No clue. However, after the discussion had on the docks in Mist near Coralhaus... this one just came to me. It seemed appropriate, given the circumstances, and I can only hope that the ideas for how to handle the rest of them come to me just as clearly.

 

Though, I wonder if overcoming two soul fragments in a week (albeit barely) might be going a bit too quick. It just seemed too perfect an opportunity to pass up on. And, hopefully, helps lay some mental groundwork on how to go about dealing with the others.

 

Either way, as always, I hope those who read this enjoy it. And, also as always, I have a musical piece picked out for it:

KNnhMxuE4AA

 

 

It wasn't until after the Medical Ward fell to silence, after Gogonji drifted off to slumber, that he noticed a difference in the swirl of memories and voices in his mind. Much like when the Scholar had slipped through the brief gap in his mental wards, it seemed like one of the fragments had relented in its continued mental onslaught. Which one, he couldn't say without risking diving into that turbulent mass of chaos within his own head, but the slight reduction in the noise and pressure was still noticeable enough. Any relief was welcome, though to be complacent would be folly.

 

As such, Gogonji's first move was to examine his mental sanctuary, seeking to reveal the possible intruder. However, naught was with him but his own musings of the day's events - of the slow walk down to the docks, of his denial of Annunu... of An's request for punishment for her believed failings, and their lengthy discussion of motives and wants with the tall, purple-haired Plainsfolk. If one of the fragments had breached his barrier, if at all, then they had hidden themselves well. And if not, what was with the feeling of reduced stress on his mind?

 

The answer came, perhaps not all that surprisingly, when he put his whole focus back on the whirlwind of fragments as he slumbered. One of them had retreated to the outer edge of the swirling chaos, moving almost lazily outside the rest of the madness. Was it merely biding its time until its companions broke through the mental walls, or waiting for something else? As if to answer him, the fragment lurched forward through the jumbled whirlwind to stop patiently against his barrier. A small pool of calm in a raging river.

 

"... or win them over, and have them join you as I have..."

 

The Scholar's words bubbled to the surface - perhaps as a final effort of his fading independence, or perhaps just coming to mind as prudent thoughts tended to do. Whichever the reason, it seemed this particular fragment had suddenly become a lot less hostile and aggressive. If anything, it seemed... submissive. If there was a chance at appeasing the thing, now seemed the best time to try - if it was not just a ploy to breech his defenses.

 

Like with John suns before, Gogonji acted upon this fragment. Rather than try forcing it out - which the Lalafell knew was impossible, since it was latched onto his soul like some sort of metaphysical leech - he snagged it and pulled it into his sanctuary. Within this mind-scape, the fragment took on a shape of dark violets. And knelt before him, the mental plane around him coalescing into a place far too familiar to the Dunesfolk. And, when it spoke, it spoke in a language that too was far too familiar.

 

 

It had observed the conversation with Virara, Gogonji noted with a cant of his head, the motion mirrored in the world of the living. Or perhaps the topics of discussion had resonated with its memories, and brought it out of its aimless fury. Whatever the case, the Ninja now knelt before him and awaited his answer.

 

the Lalafell stated flatly, responding in Doman even though he knew language irrelevant here.

 

 

Gogonji commented.

 

<No!> The response was emphatic, immediate, honest. The Ninja had risen slightly from his kneel in his adamant refusal, but seemed to catch himself and returned to his former position. He was quiet for a moment before uttering:

 

He hesitated again, continuing only once assured that Gogonji had nothing to add.

the Ninja explained, wall scrolls appearing and then unfurling on the walls around them - the memories of the battles drawn upon them in elegant strokes.

 

<Our homeland.>

 

<... Our homeland...> the fragment echoed, giving a small nod of agreement at the abrupt correction. He was silent for a long moment, turning to look away from the Lalafell. <... submitted. They sided with the enemy and brought with them the knowledge of our ninjitsu.>

 

<... And did you go with them?>

 

The word wasn't shouted this time, but had just as much intensity behind it.

 

The Ninja rose to his feet again, moving with agile grace towards the last wall scroll, which hung unopened on the wall behind him. He rested a hand upon it, hesitant to reveal the image within. Gogonji made no move to follow, simply watching as the Doman spirit gathered its thoughts and its composure.

 

<... when the time came... I could not draw steel against the clan I had been born into.> The crimson string holding the scroll closed dissolved away and the rice paper tumbled down to reveal the image emblazoned upon it. The figure - the same shown prominently in all the other scrolls - lay in a pool of blood, surrounded by other Ninjas engaged in battle.

 

The Ninja turned to face Gogonji once more.

 

It was a statement more than a question.

 

<... Yes.> The Doman spirit dropped to a knee again.

 

Gogonji's tone was firm, level.

 

The Ninja remained kneeling, his gaze fixed on the tatami beneath them.

 

The spirit looked up at the Lalafell, his dark eyes burning with intensity. All around them, the scrolls slowly began to furl back up in unison - tying themselves off with crimson string - as the reed walls and tatami floor dissolved away into blackness. Until there was but Gogonji and the Ninja, encircled by floating scrolls. All shut but one - the one behind him that so elegantly captured the moment of his fall. The moment of his failure.

 

<... Then it is a penance I accept gladly.>

 

The sealed scrolls all burst simultaneously into violet flame, the rice paper charring black before dissolving away. Even after the scrolls were gone, the fires remained - purple beacons against the darkness. Only the open scroll remained unlit, the backdrop for the kneeling Doman spirit. Both waiting on the words of the Lalafell standing before them.

 

<... Very well.> Gogonji nodded, holding out a hand to the kneeling form prostrated before him.

 

The flame started at the bottom of the open scroll, violet fingers of flame crawling up its length to the top. As it burned, the other flames drew closer - bypassing Gogonji entirely to encircle the kneeling form of the Ninja. Once the open scroll had too been consumed, its flame joined the rest. The amethyst motes circled around the Doman spirit, spinning faster and faster as they drew closer until they engulfed his kneeling form. Several small violet flames became a single lilac-hued bonfire.

 

And that bonfire became a glimmering sphere - images from the scrolls flitting across its surface. Gogonji reached out for that sphere, and - like before - it flared and a strange warmth raced up his fingertips and through his arm. Again, memories and knowledge that had been stolen before now gifted themselves willingly into his mind and soul - without need of mechanical motivation. And along with them, a single word - echoing emphatically into the darkness.

 

"Arigatou."

[Gegenji]

Heavensward! :lol:

 

A little over a week spent getting both Gegenji brothers up to 60. Gogon, as always, is going to be slowly worked towards capping everything, but that has those two squared away for the most part on the PvE side of things. What better time than a bit of a catchup on the RP side? This bit's events are tied to other posts here and here. It also is meant to be a bit of an overview of what Gogonji has and is currently dealing with right now in regards to the soul fragments.

 

He still has quite the ways to go. And, as mentioned in those links, the world of Hydaelyn certainly isn't going to wait around for him. How he deals with it, and what comes of it? Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?

 

I have no real set music for this one. It kind of came to me spur of the moment, so I just sort of flit through YouTube songs while writing. I'll just put one of them here and hope you enjoy.

A2qrWLCqDPA

 

 

 

It was a struggle - it was always a struggle in Gogonji's waking hours. And sometimes even when he slumbered. Memories and identities seeking to force themselves upon him, to subvert his very being and replace it with their own. Broken, fragmented, and amidst others in a whirlpool of existential fury and chaos, the essences of the Soul Crystals seemed to want nothing more than another taste of that brief in the Castrum. To once again be able to affect the world that had long since forgotten them through the green-haired Lalafell.

 

There were moments, though, moments when something called to the fragments and wakened them from their blind rage and scrambling for mental domination. The link between Gogonji and his original Scholar crystal had called to the Nymian tactician first and foremost, making the Scholar his first. His passion to avenge his homeland from the machinations of the Garleans had roused the Ninja and brought him into subservience. And, in what was a break in the trend, it had been Chachanji's friend Virara that had called to the lady Monk and seek to teach rather than subvert. In all cases, some sort of resonance was needed to break the fragment free, to make them open to discussion and possible compliance.

 

Until that point was reached again, Gogonji had no choice but to wall himself against them like he had for what felt like moons now. Enshroud himself in his own memories like a great mental cocoon to maintain his identify and his control. Any flash of emotion, any lapse in focus, could be the foothold to bring the undesirables clambering over his walls and casting his consciousness to the aether. This made any motion he made, any words he spoke, slow and deliberate - guarding himself before each movement and each utterance. To the uniformed, he might seem mentally handicapped... and perhaps that is what one could term him - he was working under a great handicap to function anywhere close to normal.

 

Oddly enough, while the fragments were the source of his problems - they were also part of the solution. Not only were the three he had properly "bonded" with no longer harassing him alongside the other seven, but they provided other assistance as well. Focusing exercises, meditations, aligning his chakra, all skills wrought from now-fuzzy memories in a desperate attempt to grasp for any extra resources to shore up his mental defenses. It was not enough to permanently push back the remaining fragments until he was ready to deal with them, but it allowed him to commit more energy to other tasks.

 

Before the acquiescence of the Scholar, Gogonji sought to keep himself asleep as much as possible - a sort of self-induced coma to focus every last scrap of energy on fighting a one-man mental war against ten. It was only his stubborn will, his prior experience and training with the Rousers, and perhaps that flicker of an Echo of his that had kept his mind from utterly collapsing under the strain... but only barely. He had been completely reliant on An and the nurses to tend to his corporeal form while he dealt with the incorporeal.

 

However, that crucible had also served to hone his mental defenses to their absolute limit. In doing so, even one fragment relenting meant resources freed. While he still spent most of his time in slumber due to the strain, Gogonji could quietly put aside some energy for other things. It had been that wellspring of meager scraps that had allowed him - again with assistance by An - to be brought down to Mist's dock. Which had resulted in meeting with Virara the first time outside of a combat situation, and their discussion had been the impetus that roused the Ninja.

 

And with the purple-haired Lalafell's physical imbalance having called to the Monk, that was a near-third fewer entities hammering at his mental walls. This meant a lot more energy that could be spent elsewhere. While before he was restricted to his bed in the Medical Ward or moving about with someone to prop him up like some hobbled elder, he now could again interact with the world of the living - albeit in his slow, calculated manner. He had made a few slow trips down to the docks again on his lonesome, aided by a walking stick he was able to acquire by request from the Still Shore's medical staff. And despite the twitches of his limbs - the continued attempt by the chaotic mental whirlpool to again tug at his puppet strings - there was a liberating feeling of being able to mostly move under his own power once again.

 

But what to do with himself? While he himself felt his assault against the Garleans felt justified - albeit slightly less so upon discovering that his family was alive and well - he would certainly still be considered an enemy of the state to those aware of the undertakings. And, given the number his brother had amassed in order to put a stop to his plans, it was obvious that his carefully concealed plans had certainly been leaked to a reasonable degree. How much so, he was uncertain, but it had been enough for An to offer herself up to take the fall. He had wanted to refute her plan, deny her, but he had been in no place to make such demands nor enforce them.

 

All he could do was acquiesce to her plan and bade her to return to him, as he always did. As he recovered his strength, he had sought to help her and guide her - minimizing the losses that she would certainly undergo in this fool's errand of hers - though his knowledge of the Ul'dahn legal system was tenuous at best. So, he was genuinely surprised by the lady Lalafell's cunning when she made herself seem less desirable by spreading rumors of her lost fortune - to dissuade his concerns about her being taken as a bride in return for the dropping of the charges. Yet, coin was still king in the Jewel, and someone divested of it would have little power.

 

And so, when he learned of the guilty verdict - and this "security review" - he had sought to learn more. Keeping the news article with him, he had inquired to the best of his limited abilities on the various personages mentioned within. Of An's current location, of the whereabouts of her once-beau Chuta Allfriend, and - most importantly - what he could learn of the head of this security unit, Elyas Rosewater. The surveillance that the lady Lalafell had noted during their rare outings, and her mentions of those aligned against her... it had all left a bad taste in his mouth. And, partially recovered as he was, he was not about to take such things sitting down.

 

He trusted An's knowledge, her skill, her capability. However, Gogonji simply did not like the idea of an unknown enemy with unknown resources and unknown motives. The tactician in him - both himself and the remnants of the Nymian Scholar - saw the inherent dangers of such things. So, while he might not do much more than gather information through what limited means he had left to him, it would still help piece together the larger picture and whatever machinations were unfolding. Then, should he be required to move to ensure An's safe return, he would be able to do so.

 

And Twelve help this Rosewater fellow if he should try anything underhanded or untoward.

[Gegenji]

Eesh, it's been almost a MONTH since I last posted something here. Judge has joined the Gegenji brothers at 60 and I've made a clear point of kicking Alexander until he coughs up my loots the past couple weeks. Gathering glamours and gear and other such things eat up quite a bit of time.

 

And I'm trying to hunt down RP in all that, too. How hectic. Fortunately, I've managed here and there... and it turns out that an RP with Chachan served as the impetus for this current segment! Things are a little less... structured in my story plans at this point, as one might be able to tell, and so I don't rightly know how much longer Gogon will be dealing with these fragments. Or if/when he'll overcome them... and what will ultimately become of him. The mystery's part of the fun, though, right?

 

For now, enjoy something a little more... laid back. With music to match.

mcnSws8hUtQ

 

 

 

"S-so, u-um... h-here, Go-nii!"

 

Gogonji stared down at the small crystal sphere his brother had more or less forced into his hand after a stuttered introduction he only caught snippets of, interrupting his seaside reading at the Mist docks. A linkpearl - the method of access to a linkshell and all other individuals who had similarly tuned pearls. He was not unfamiliar with the technology, having used a lesser known facet of it - the ability to record, as demonstrated in the Garlean propaganda tactics several cycles back - when dealing with that contemptible upstart Rosewater. He had even thought to utilize them in his four-pronged assault on the various Garlean footholds in Eorzea, but had discarded the notion for fear of a pearl falling into the wrong hands and intel being leaked to the undesirables. Conversely, it had meant that he did not know his plan had all but crumbled until Chachanji and his companions confronted him atop the Castrum Centri.

 

"J-just keep that wit ya, akay?" his younger sibling intoned, fidgeting as if he had some small creature loose in his shirt and causing a small symphony of creaks from the boards beneath his booted feet. The constant motion drew the elder's violet eyes back to his brother, peering over the rim of his glasses at his restless sibling. Chachanji's own purple orbs met briefly with Gogonji's, then were forced away towards the water as he scratched bashfully at that floofy mass of emerald hair. "Th-that way we can... y'know, keep in touch."

 

He still hadn't quite gotten used to it, even though he had to ultimately come to grips with it in Mor Dhona. The little sprout that would follow him around aimlessly draped in chocobo-themed pajamas and begging for hero stories, now a teenager laden with muscle not unlike their Father. On the cusp of adulthood, and yet still very much the overly-cheery, awkward little boy that Gogonji remembered. He didn't remember the kid being quite so nervous and worried as he seemed to be these suns, but the time apart had changed both of them quite a bit. And yet the sibling bond between them still remained, which the elder brother found rather... comforting.

 

"I... see..." Gogonji murmured vaguely, setting the pearl on the coaster next to his still-steaming cup of tea. His fingers wrapped neatly around the handle and the older Gegenji brother brought the hot drink to his lips, pausing only briefly to see if his younger sibling had anything further to press upon him before taking a long sip. He had been about to partake of the tea before continuing with his reading, but the hurried entry by little Chachanji had suitably distracted him from that. Still very much like the boy he remembered, bursting in with whatever idea was fresh in his mind. Though, they used to be about hero stories and imagined adventures over much more tangible concerns such as these.

 

It was easy to read exactly what bothered Chachanji, even without having spent as much time with the boy as Gogonji had. He wanted a method in which to remain in contact with his older sibling, should they be apart again for an undefined length of time - to avoid the cycles of silence and uncertainty wrought from when the elder brother had left home. The idea of being beholden to such a small object sickened Gogonji to some degree - preferring to have complete and utter control over who could speak to him and when, if possible - but he had to admit the merits of the linkpearl. After all, if he and his brother had possessed such ready communication betwixt them, he might have been better informed on the razing of Doma and the wellbeing of his family. While it still might not have prevented his desire to see Garlemald punished for the atrocities they committed against his homeland, he might not have chosen so bloody a path to walk to achieve it.

 

What was done was done, however, Gogonji mused as his free hand found its way into the fluffy mass of his brother's hair to give it an approving ruffle as he took another sip of tea. The younger gave out a familiar little happy squeak, squeezing one eye shut even as his lips curled up in a little timid smile. Chachanji still fidgeted about beneath his brother's hand, but they were more happy wiggles than nervous twitches - like a pup that was being scratched in just the right spot. It had been a long time since he had done such things, and there was a warm remembrance in the action and its familiar result. Even if that mop of jade now seemed to be sporting a snowy cap of white atop it.

 

"Thank you, Chan," Gogonji said simply, returning the free hand to rest around the side of his tea cup as his gaze moved back to the linkpearl. "I will... keep it close. I would return... to my reading, now."

 

He was answered with an eager nod from an eager younger sibling, Chachanji's hands clasped submissively in front of him as he did so. He hesitated but a moment afterward to ensure everything was okay before leaving his older brother to his own devices as he padded his way up towards Mist proper. Gogonji watched him go, his free hand dropping from the side of the teacup to rest atop the closed book in his lap. It was a dusty, aged thing - procured from a merchant in Hawker's Alley in Limsa - that delved into various manners of magical theory. Most notably, the evolution of Arcanima from the Nymian arts, which were believed to come from techniques far older - perhaps from the magical practices of the ancient Allagan themselves.

 

With the fewer fragments assailing him than when he first overloaded the Rousers - down to six now from the original ten, after his meeting with Rosewater had brought the ancient Sultansworn fragment to his side - the lengthy down-times were spent less on keeping them at bay and more seeking to decipher ways to deal with them. He had learned soon enough that a sort of stimulus was needed to wake them from their mindless fury, to bring them "to the table" so to speak and ready to deal with the dour Lalafell on more civilized terms. Before, he could only hope that something would catch their interest and allow him the reprieve that went along with it. Now, he more actively sought the means to induce such moments of clarity.

 

The fragment of the Summoner was his current goal, as could easily be guessed by his reading material. Considering the similarity of its magic to arcanima he originally started with and the Scholastic arts he progressed to, it seemed the most logical soul to seek parlay with in his first active attempts to do so. First, however, he had to find a way to rouse it from the whirling chaos of memories and rage that still continued to batter itself against his mental defenses. That required delving into the history of the Summoning arts, in hopes that - if the history itself didn't catch the fragment's attentions - the Doman Lalafell might find something that would garner its interest. So far, the best option seemed to be to find himself a Primal, the ancient enemy of the Allagan Summoners - but Gogonji was neither of mind nor of form to go for that particular route.

 

And so Gogonji read and mused and theorized. Perhaps just finding someone capable of Summoning might be enough to garner the fragment's attentions - hunting down someone who had bathed enough in Primal aether to form an Egi was likely to be much less dangerous than seeking audience with the Primal itself. He would need to re-establish whatever lines of communication he could after the fall of Khamja, or perhaps find himself some new ones, and see if he could find himself any current practitioners of the ancient Art. In the meantime, perhaps he could speak with that one Hyur woman he had met at the Still Shore - Sasha, if he recalled her name correctly - and see if she might be in possession of some useful reading material on the subject. Even if it wasn't enough to rouse the fragment from its madness, the theories and formulae were inherently interesting in and of themselves - and he wouldn't be overly adverse to being able to converse with someone who had at least a passing knowledge in mathemagical combat theorems, even if her choice of husband was highly questionable.

[Gegenji]

I'm still here, I'm still here! :lol:

 

Got a bit of a lengthy one this time. Had a couple events that I was-slash-am a part of and thought a nice story bit would nestle well right in-between. That and give the other side of the apparent mental-case I had Gogon doing during the Runestone on Sunday. So you can all see he isn't totally crazy!

 

... just possibly mostly...

 

This one likely has the most references to other players in it too. It opens with talk of Leanne and Annunu in a remembrance bit, and leads into all the folks Gogon interacted with at the Runestone. We got Jana, Shoshopu, Artemis, and (though unnamed) Edgar. There were others there, like the other Summoner with the Carbuncle, the Jana "fans", and Shopu's hubby... but this piece was getting pretty wordy as it was.

 

Anyway, I feel the ending is a bit... jarring? But hopefully the whole thing is still enjoyable. And it segues into the IC dungeon delve that Gogon is doing with Sasha (another player name-drop, oh my)! What comes of that, we'll have to see.

 

Until then, musics!

 

M3hFN8UrBPw

 

 

 

Soup instead of tea, heading from Revenant's Toll instead of ultimately towards it, and in simple transit rather than frantic escape from a seemingly compromised position. While the circumstances were quite different for his return to this little tavern in the Observatorium - which Gogonji recalled was egregiously named the Full Ewer only yalms away from the establishment - it all still brought a flood of memories to the fore. Of the Miqo'te who knew far too much, of his wary doubts on the unreadable Annunu, and of a time where he was swiftly moving the pieces into place to carve that bloody swath of vengeance in the name of his fallen family and homeland. Memories of a time before the confrontation, the conflict, the collapse, and - most alliteratively appropriate, desired or not - the consequences.

 

It could have been worse, all things considered. The elder Gegenji brother could have perished in that battle; wholly vanquished while still clinging to the misguided belief that he was bringing divine retribution for the believed loss of his family. His tale could have been brought abruptly to an end there in the Castrum, finding the vengeful Lalafell from Doma in a coffin rather than a medical cot. A fall followed by a - likely sparsely attended, he noted dourly as he spooned another helping of soup into his mouth - funeral instead of a lengthy recovery.

 

Conversely, Gogonji could have succeeded, making his way into the heart of Garlemald and razing its capital in karmic retaliation for Doma. Again, his story could have ended there - in a blaze of glory rather than a hollow defeat in the Castrum - or he could have returned to Annunu and Khamja, ready to continue bringing the long-needed punishment to the Garlean people that the "Eorzean Alliance" refused to bring. The organization would have forced them into having to retreat as refugees, as they had to both to Gogonji's own people. And the Lalafell would have remained blissfully unaware of the the complete and utter terror it was to watch one's body be overtaken and puppeted against their will.

 

Even just recalling that moment sent a horrified shiver down the Doman's spine, forcing him to return his spoon to the bowl lest he drop it. It would be far from exaggeration to describe it as the source of the majority of his current troubles: the lengthy time spent bedridden to keep the wailing fragments at bay, the inability to have played a larger role in An's plans to deal with the fallout of Khamja, and the time wasted seeking to somehow appease these phantom remnants so that he could return to some degree of normalcy. Even Gogonji's current journey to Ishgard, though originally for other reasons, had also been tainted by the all-consuming issue of the soul fragments.

 

Everything seemed to have been going well enough - his postulated hypothesis being that the Summoner fragment would be roused from the whirling pool of madness by seeing their ancient Allagan art being used for glorified arcane slap-fights at the brutish display known as the Runestone. The first visit had proved fruitless at first - with not a single practitioner of Summoning participating - but the elder Gegenji brother had fallen into conversation with one who had been merely spectating. Not only was he able to garner some valuable information on the true origin of modern day Arcanima, the meeting of this Jana led to a seemingly chance encounter with the wielder of the Leviathan-egi Shoshopu Shopu. And from that, a chance to see two Summoners face off against each other for simple bloodsport - a scene most certainly to rouse the Summoner fragment from its blind fury.

 

And it was almost all for naught - only one of them, Jana, was present in the lineup for the following Runestone. Yet Nymeia seemed to also desire a Summoner's duel, bringing to the competition a fledgling Summoner out to prove her worth with little more than her Ifrit-egi and her stalwart Carbuncle. The Spinner's wishes continued to align with the elder Gegenji brother as both defeated their opponents in the first round, leading to the two of them paired against each other. Even the arrival of a self-proscribed pioneer and "fellow connoisseur of Allagan history" to watch and provide unneeded commentary on the match failed to hinder the progress of the experiment. Even better, Jana's mighty Titan-egi was ultimately trumped by the twice-degraded echo of egi-summons: the lowly Carbuncle.

 

A little jostling - both outward and inward - was enough to see the experiment bear fruit, and the Summoner fragment stirring itself from the whirlpool of hate within his being. However, rather than some ancient Allagan practitioner insulted by the devolution of their art to arcane cockfighting, Gogonji found himself dealing with a much more recent phantom - one he remembered far too well. In the mental plane, the Lalafell was forced to trade words with the Elezen woman slain by his own hand - the Ishgardian Summoner, Andienna.

 

"You," Gogonji had hissed silently as Jana discussed the art of Summoning to two eager spectators out in the land of the living, his astral form crossing its arms across his chest. "I should have known."

 

"And yet you didn't," the Elezen snapped back just as harshly, her tone as icy as the winds of her homeland. "And here I stand."

 

"Astute," the Lalafell murmured with a complete and utter lack of amusement or joy. "And again you interject yourself, giving rise to additional problems."

"'Additional problems'?" she echoed, looking aghast. "You killed me."

 

"You attacked me with your egi and sought to steal my work," Gogonji snapped back. "It was clearly in self-defense. Or is your memory that spotty, fragment?"

"Fragment?" she repeated, a look of confusion crossing her angular features, and garnering a sharp bark of laughter from the Lalafell.

 

"What, did you think you're some vengeful spirit set to haunt me for my misdeeds?" He waved a hand dismissively in front of his face before lowering it back to rest upon the opposite arm again. "At best, you're merely a slipshod entity wrought of lingering memories wrought from your soul crystal."

 

"You lie!"

 

"Do I?" the Doman pressed, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Search your memories... how much of your life can you recall? Do you even remember our delve into the ruins of Amdapor? Our meeting before that? Or anything before that at all?"

 

"Of course I do!" Andienna snarled back, taking a half-step back on the mental plane. Despite her adamant claim, or perhaps because of it, Gogonji took no small amount of enjoyment in watching the Elezen's furious glare twist into inward reflection and then confusion before settling into a look of dawning horror. "W-what did you do to me!?"

 

"Which you?" Gogonji asked coyly.

 

"Pray be frank with me!" she hissed, her tone mixed with both fury and grief. She took a step towards him, gesturing wildly and emphatically. "What have you done!?"

 

"What reason do I have to explain myself to you?" he snapped back just as darkly, canting his head to the side - a move mirrored by his real self as the conversation between Jana and the "connoisseur" continued apace, oblivious to this second one inside the Lalafell's mind. "You, who betrayed me. You, who sought to take my work from me. You, who tried to silence me for your own ambitions!"

 

"M-me!?" she scoffed, her fear feeding her anger and righteous indignation like dry wood to a flame. "You were holding a tool that could end a thousand-year war! You were hoarding knowledge that could change things! Not just for me, but for all of Ishgard! All of Eorzea!"

 

"Perhaps I was," Gogonji responded, his tone starting dangerously low and building as he continued to speak. "Yet I had other purposes for it. A family, a nation to avenge for the atrocities committed upon them. An act that demanded retaliation. You had your war, but I also had mine!"

 

"Perhaps, but..."

 

"But nothing!" the Lalafell snapped, cutting off her argument before it could even being. "You can sputter and whine all you want about how 'unfair' things were for you, convince yourself that your treachery was a necessity. And yet! The soul crystals I laboriously gathered, the Awakener and Rousers I bled time and gil into the design and development of, the one-man war against the Garleans who razed my nation to the ground as a mere example to the rest of the world? That..."

 

Gogonji had unconsciously thrust her back out of his safe zone within his mind, casting her back into the roiling chaos of the other fragments. His words, however, still flowed - over physical lips rather than astral - and interrupted the conversation still being held by the pair of Miqo'te. The capper to an unseen and unheard argument, interjecting itself into a completely unrelated converasion.

 

"That... was MINE."

 

The outburst had led to questions and proddings, and Jana blindly assuming she had any clue of what was going on. Meanwhile, the interloper - whose name was never given to the Lalafell - continued his abrasive attempts to endear himself to the both of them. It capped with the male Miqo'te seeking Gogonji's name, blatantly acting as if he was anywhere on the Doman's level. And so he had rejected the Summoner and distanced himself from the noise. He had another nuisance to deal with, and he couldn't manage that with the mindless yapping of a pair of Miqo'te.

 

And so, overlooking the shallow river - away from the Wash and the Runestone continuing unabated therein - Gogonji sought out the phantom of Andienna within his mind again. Tossed back into the madness, she had been drowning and floundering in it like he had when they first assailed him. The Lalafell entertained the thought of leaving her to brave the chaos for a while longer, before realizing it would hinder his work more than it would help. She could be lost to it again, and he'd have to rouse her from it again - if would even be possible at that point. The risks too heavily outweighed the rewards, and he yanked the Elezen back to the sanctuary in his mind to further match wits with the fragment.

 

"Wh-what... what was that?" Andienna gasped, her icy temperament thawed by her more cognizant return to the whirling chaos. "Memories... desires... hate... all swirling and crashing like a horrible storm wrought by Halone herself."

 

"The aftermath," Gogonji stated curtly. "Of my crusade. Of the Wakener."

 

"That..." The Elezen caught herself, her icy wall rebuilding itself before she spoke again. "Well, serves you right. Hoarding all that knowledge for yourself, now you seek shelter from it."

 

"I can always throw you back."

 

"You wouldn't," she snapped, though there was a nervous tone there. "You need me. Otherwise you would have left me there to drown."

 

"Perhaps I should have," the Lalafell scoffed. "I do not 'need' you. I simply want that chaos out there gone. And since I cannot simply eject you since that would - while immensely enjoyable - be unnecessarily wasteful, I am forced to... negotiate."

 

"Negotiate?" Andienna repeated, a wry curl rising on her lip. Gogonji didn't like the looks of it, and his expression made that apparent. Which only seemed to further elate her.

 

"None of the fragments have been... overly willing... to give themselves up to me and be properly... melded."

 

"Gee, I wonder why."

 

"However," Gogonji continued, emphasizing the word to show his disdain for her unneeded commentary. "After some... discussion... I have managed to get them to agree. In return for... compensation." He paused momentarily, waiting for more snarky asides or useless parroting of the last word before continuing with a circular wave of his hand. "Usually a promise of some sort... or a task."

 

"And you follow through on them?" the Elezen asked skeptically, blurring her grin somewhat behind a long-fingered hand. "I can't see you of all people taking orders."

 

That garnered a dry, rasping sort of laugh from the Lalafell. "It's usually... things I would do anyway. Or minor nuisances." He began counting off on his fingers, as if he were reciting a grocery list rather than vows given to the coalesced remnants of ancient warriors. "Take care of my Fairy, avenge Doma, help a pugilist, and ensure a too-big-for-his-smallclothes Sultansworn gets knocked down a few pegs."

 

"And then you... 'meld'?"

 

"Essentially," Gogonji shrugged. "I gain bits of your knowledge... and memories... and you cease to exist." He waved a hand dismissively. "All that remains is fuzzy memories and vague knowledge, as if you were little more than a book I read once. Nowhere near the level of... synchronicity I had with the Rousers... but I suppose that's to be expected."

 

"Now hold on," Andienna interjected, motioning to herself. "So by 'melding' I... die?"

 

"You were never alive to begin with," the Doman corrected coldly, discussing such a grim matter as if he were teaching a math class. "The Awakener provided a sort of... artificial jolt to the crystallized aether in the soul crystals that provided a mere semblance of consciousness. Enough for me to utilize the knowledge and skill, and resulting in you..." He paused, making a wandering motion with his hand. "... Fragments, afterward."

 

"I would still, by your words, 'cease to exist'!" the Elezen refuted angrily. "Why would I want to even consider something like that?"

 

"Because the 'actual' you is gone; returned to the aether," Gogon stated matter-of-factually as he leaned forward, clasping his hands behind his back - a motion again mirrored in the land of the living. "All that's left of you is in here." He tapped on his head lightly with a finger. "If I die, or lose myself to the madness beyond these walls, then that is lost - permanently. By joining with me, you at least ensure something of you endures, since the soul crystals themselves are drained and dead."

 

"And what's to keep me from just overcoming you here?" Andienna sneered, motioning widely to the astral space. "Within the 'safety' of your walls?"

 

"If you could manage it, considering I held ten of you fragments at bay..." the Lalafell intoned as he leaned back again, "what would you have at the end of it? A body that is not yours, and only what few choice memories that made up the soul crystal you were birthed from." He shook his head, as if this should all be obvious. "Not to mention, then it would be you who would have to hold off that chaos out there. Do you think you could handle it?"

 

"W-who's to say I can't?"

 

"I can throw you back out there and we could see."

 

"No!" she snapped immediately, before catching herself and seeking to regain her haughty demeanor. "I mean... I have nothing to prove here. You're trying to convince me, are you not?"

 

"Have I not?"

 

"Not... not fully, no," the Elezen stated. For a moment, her icy glare melted into something more... forlorn. "I'm... all that's left, then?"

 

"Other than what frozen bits remain in what you left of my shack."

 

Andienna winced at the Lalafell's terse frankness, but continued. "And my family... knows naught? I... I think I kept my arts a secret from them. I can't recall. I know I... failed them in seeking to become a Dragoon, so I sought other methods."

 

A shrug was all she received, earning Gogonji another icy glare.

 

"The memories I still have... would you bring that to them?" she asked, surprisingly earnestly. "Along with what remains of my body? I... would wish to be properly remembered... an interred."

 

"Is that what you ask of me?"

 

There was a brief silence between them. Andienna stood silently, eyes closed in thought as she weighed her answer. Gogonji remained gruffly steadfast, waiting for the response he felt he knew was coming.

 

"... Yes."

 

"Then I shall do it," the Lalafell assured her in his own, indifferent way, holding out a hand expectantly. Andienna looked at the hand, then up at him, eyebrow raised. The two stood awkwardly like that in the astral landscape before Gogonji irritably murmured: "Well?"

 

"Well what?"

 

"I have agreed to your task, now give yourself unto me."

 

"What? No!" the Elezen snapped. "Not until you've done the task! Do you expect me to just fade into nothingness on a simple promise that you'll do what I've asked? Once you've seen my body to my House in Ishgard, then you will have my... err... me...-ness."

 

"That is not how this works."

 

"Well, this is how it's going to work if you want this!" She tapped at her head in a mockery of Gogon's own motion earlier. "Now, let's get going, already. Unless you have more self-righteous banter to fling my way."

 

"FINE," Gogonji snapped - his words again crossing the gap from astral landscape to the real world. It was then that he had stormed his way back through the Runestone, running across Jana and the others again. His brief query on the fastest route to Ishgard led into a most obnoxious of conversations as Artemis - another Elezen, which failed to be a shock to the Lalafell - sought to capitalize on this to garner his services again. Annoyingly persistent, she had still made the almost-valid point of having a guardian to protect him on his journey. While he did not feel he needed such things, at the very least he could use it as impetus to gain access to some of Andienna's promised knowledge and silence the living Elezen at the same time.

"I thought you didn't need my help," the fragment had commented with a wry grin, much to Gogonji's frustration. However, she relented, giving him enough knowledge to summon the Garuda-egi with the aid of the proper formula. Bringing forth the echo of the wind primal had only brought more questions - and the attentions - leading to talks of a full group gathering up to head on out on a trip north. A trip Gogonji would have rather made alone, and further irritated by how much Andienna seemed to be enjoying it.

 

In the end, he had whittled the group down to just himself, Jana, and the overly insistent Artemis. Fortunately, the former only desired to go as far as the Toll and the eldest Gegenji child lost the latter in the hustle and bustle of the fledgling city. Alone he had escaped out the gate and towards the snowy fields of Coerthas. Which brought him here to the Full Ewer, seeking to enjoy his soup as the other patrons nervously eyes the Garuda-egi sitting boredly on the other side of the table.

 

That was another problem - Andienna had somehow managed to taint the egi summoning, imprinting herself on the wind-elemented summon itself. So, the Lalafell was stuck dealing with the impatient fragment within and the impatient egi without. He would have just unsummoned it, as he had threatened back at the Runestone, but the assault by the pack of wolves that saw Annelace as a rather sizable meal had cemented the necessity of its presence. So, it was just something Gogonji would have to deal with for the time being.

 

... Not that he had to enjoy it.

 

"Hey," he called out, waving down one of the servers of the Ewer. "Do you... know where I could... obtain a small... wagon or such... that I could lash to... my chocobo?"

 

The glare from the Garuda-egi was withering, as was the outcry from the Summoner fragment in his head. To have her corporeal form lugged around like a merchant's wares - it was inexcusable! At least, until Gogonji offered the alternative of just lashing the body with corpse with rope and dragging it bodily all the way to Ishgard. After all, neither he nor Annelace were of enough physical strength to carry the body of an adult Elezen woman otherwise. Unless, of course, she wanted to wait for whatever red tape would be involved to send out someone to fetch her remains.

 

In the end, after another angry look from the egi, Andienna acquiesced to the original plan and a tiny, battered vegetable wagon was obtained and tied to Annelace. The barest of thanks given for the meal and the wagon, along with the proper coinage, and Gogonji set off again to complete this task set upon him. First to the ruins of his shack, then on to Ishgard. Both to be done with this nagging fragment, and to await the start of a much more interesting venture - to seek the knowledge of the Great Gubal Library, as offered by one Sasha Rochester and her supposed band of bodyguards.

 

Perhaps things would end up enjoyable after all.

[Gegenji]

Oof. Feeling a bit iffy about this one. Coming off of a lengthy Skype event and not one but two fun IG RP sessions with the grumpy Doman, I felt another little update of events was in order.

 

However, when I sat down to work on it, it sort of turned into more of a sibling moment between Chachan and Gogon. The events at the Library, and Tailfeather, and then the hot springs all ended up as more of an... afterthought. However, I know if I started trying to fiddling with it some more, I might never get it posted.

 

So... I'll put what I managed thus far, and either roll with what I put and leave the specific details of the events only in the minds of the participants (the most likely)... or come back to it later and edit in some clearer bits as my mind congeals them into some manner of prose. Either or.

 

Well, regardless, have some music!

yDza9gjqM2o

 

 

"Wh-whaddya mean ya were rejected!?" Chachan yelped, slamming his gloved hands on top of the kotatsu and leaning so far forward his elder brother half-expected him to clamber onto it. "Y-ya didn't say nothin' wrong in th' interview! I was there!"

 

Gogonji remained unmoved by his brother's outburst, curling his more delicate fingers around the handle of his teacup and lifting it neatly off the saucer held in his other hand. He swirled the contents about idly, staring down at the emerald-green liquid within as the steam curled up to lick at the lenses of his glasses. The older Lalafell exhaled through his nose and then took a long sip of his tea, doing his best to ignore the worried pout his younger brother had going full force across the heated table.

 

"Of course... I didn't," Gogon agreed, setting both cup and saucer back down atop the kotatsu with minimal clatter. His lip curled up slightly in a sort of self-degrading sneer. "Still, I suppose... they don't see me... worth the risk. Their loss."

 

"R-risk?" the floofier-haired of the two echoed in confusion. "O-oh, th' whole Chem-Jar thing, right?"

 

"Khamja."

 

"'s what I said. A-anyroad, ya got abbey-solved'a all that, didn't ya?"

 

"Absolved," Gogonji corrected again flatly, seeming unfettered by his younger sibling's stumbling over the more complex Eorzean words. "And... to a degree, yes. The Flames... had been informed... of my plans. So An... moved to have... the record cleaned."

 

"An? Oh, Ms. Annunu? So she was that Chair-Blossom Social-light?" Gogonji wasn't entire sure if Chachanji wasn't doing this on purpose now. "S-still, that means... yer akay ta join, right?"

 

"Not according... to your... 'superiors,'" the older Dunesfolk stated without any measure of mirth in his words, his gaze turning to Ezra. The little Fairy was flitting about his younger brother's open hearth, tending to the stew-pot dangling over the hot coals. The boy had been keeping water and a variety of flowers in a covered dish above it, using the Doman-style cooking implement to provide fragrance rather than food. Gogonji had decided to use it for its intended purpose for once this sun. "However... as I said, it is... their loss."

 

Gogonji had initially held no interest in joining the Still Shore at all. Even before the incident at the Castrum, he had never been one to enjoy being beholden to someone else. It had only been after bells of begging and pleading by his younger kin that he even bothered to even approach the recruitment office, and the boy being behind him the whole way keeping him from simply walking away from the door once there. His reasons for his methods were his own, and he was not of a sort to share such things with the lecherous old Lalafell that served as the Sea's "quality control." It was for his brother sake that he remained as civil as he had, considering what he had to put up with.

 

"S-so, what're we gonna do now?"

 

"'We'?" Gogonji echoed, raising a brow even as he raised the teacup to his lips again.

 

"W-well, yeah, if'n Coralhaus won't take ya... th-then we hafta find somewhere else, right?" Chachanji stated, putting on a blatantly forced smile. Gogonji's eyes narrowed as he observed the younger Gegenji. It was fairly clear that the boy did not enjoy the idea of leaving these... people... for some reason or another. And yet, he did not want to abandon his older brother either - the conflict fairly visible in the violet eyes they shared and upon his freckled features. "I-I'm sure we can... f-find somewhere that'll take us both..."

 

"No." Gogonji set his teacup down firmly, snapping the boy's attention to it before up at his older brother's stern expression. "You... will remain here."

 

"B-but!" The boy leaned forward in protest, but his elder brother's hand found his fluffy mass of hair and rested itself upon it. It was a familiar, familial thing and quieted little Chachan quickly - as Gogonji knew it would. Some things never changed: the boy's chick-like eagerness to stay with him, and the little things that would calm him down.

 

"If they... cannot realize... the gold slipping through their fingers, then that... is on them," Gogonji explained, motioning to himself with his other hand before spreading it out to motion to the miniature smithy that was Chachanji's room. "You have... much established here; I would not... have you lose that." The image of the tall, purple-haired Lalafell with the misaligned chakra flitted through the older Gegenji's mind - the one similar to An, yet not quite the same. "Nor... those who you have... found here."

 

"B-but-but-but!" Chachan urged, his pleading little more than a soft whimper at this point under his brother's hand. "Wh-what 'bout you? I-I don't think they'll let ya stay in th' Medical Ward ferever!"

 

"Nor... do I plan to." Gogonji shook his head, removing his hand from atop his brother's fluffy mass of green and white hair and returning it to the handle of his teacup. "This is... your home, not mine. They made that... perfectly clear."

 

"S-so where will ya go?"

 

The elder of the two let out a dry, coughing sort of laugh, though one slightly more warm than the usual ones he plugged into conversation where he felt it fit. He raised the teacup to his lips, speaking just before taking another drought of its contents. "I have... managed... on my own... for nigh-on six cycles now. I... can manage."

 

"B-but yer not on yer own anymore, Go-nii!" the younger Gegenji insisted, the pout on his freckled face deepening with worry. "Y-ya could at least move back in wit Papa'n 'em."

 

"No." The word came sharp, like the lash of a whip, unbidden from the mustachioed Lalafell's lips over the rim of the teacup. The harshness sent the younger sibling stumbling back a bit on his own cushion, looking at the older in surprise and alarm. Gogonji closed his eyes to silently calm himself, and opened those violet orbs again after setting the piece of fine china back on its saucer; while he had meant his disinterest in such a plan, the tone in which it had been presented was unnecessary. "I will not... return to Father."

 

"But Go-nii..." came the immediate plea, as Gogonji knew it would. And he was ready with his counterpoint. Albeit worded much less harshly than the last.

 

"I have... a place," he explained, almost more as a teacher to a student than one sibling to another. "It requires... repairs... but I have lived... comfortably... in it for many a cycle. I will... return there." The elder Gegenji child saw his younger kin ready to argue further, and was quick to intercept it. "Not to mention... I am merely... a linkpearl away... no?"

 

Chachanji froze mid-argument at that point, finger curling before the hand and its twin returned themselves to his apron-covered lap.

 

"I-I 'spose that's true..." he admitted, though he still didn't sound too happy with that fact. "I-I can... come'n visit, right?"

 

"I would not... turn away... my own brother."

 

"'n-n I can bring me frands along too?" Chachanji pressed eagerly, starting to lean forward again. Gogonji could already see it in the boy's eyes - the teenager was likely imagining something like childish sleepovers or story-time sessions. The older Lalafell could easily see the little Dunesfolk laid out on the carpet of his shack with a whole retinue of little companions, all eager to hear him tell a story. It was equal parts degrading... and intriguing. After all, they would be seeking him out above all others for knowledge and entertainment.

 

"We... shall see," was Gogonji's settlement, turning his attentions back to the open hearth as Ezra chimed like Eorzea's friendliest kitchen timer. "Let us speak on it... later... after we have eaten."

 

"Akay!" the younger Gegenji answered with an contended nod, likely thinking this was all but settled. And, considering Gogonji's own thoughts on the matter, he wasn't entirely wrong. The latter watched with indifferent eyes as Chachanji hopped up to his feet. "I'mma go get some bowls from th' kitchen! I'll be right back!"

 

If Gogonji would have said anything in opposition, the boy wouldn't have heard it. He was out the door and down the hall in an instant, eager to share a meal with his elder brother. So instead, the older Dunesfolk simply returned his gaze to Ezra as she dutifully stirred at the pot, visions coming to mind of his little shack that sat nestled away in the endless white of Coerthas. It was a return to the colder climes, but its position couldn't be better. After all, not only was it nearer to the Library - should he not be of willingness to used the aetheryte within its depths - but it was also closer to the rest of Dravania as well.

 

The images in his mind shifted - to a different woman with an eyepatch than the young purple-haired companion of Chachanji's. A dark-haired Roegadyn woman he had met in Tailfeather on his return trip from the Library, glaring daggers into the crystal-clear waters of the river for some manner of inner clarity. For a fried chocobo wing and some bread, he had given her some his wisdom and knowledge instead. And, in the process, also started the first stages of what might prove to be a most interesting experiment. One that the unwitting subject rightfully felt she owed him for starting.

 

"Knowledge for knowledge" indeed.

 

In addition, it seemed the Serpent-Summoner and her companion were also seeking his subject. He had, in his inebriation during their conversations at the Bronze Lake springs, made mention of Tailfeather as where he had last seen her. Yet, had forgone clearly mentioning that she had left to seek chaotic locales as a point of meditation. If she remained in contact with him -and not so much with them - he could serve as quite the go-between for both parties. Proffering his knowledge for more knowledge in return, or more favors to be called upon at a later date.

 

Slowly but surely, Gogonji's web of contacts and information would begin to spin outward again. He had been long-stymied by the loss of his network as Khamja crumbled around him. He had put feelers out here and there as his condition allowed him, but had managed little. Now he was starting to move into a position where he could pursue this goal much more actively. To gather, control, and profit off of knowledge.

 

And all the while, the dour-faced Doman had another project that was already beginning to form in his mind well before his conversation with the one called War Siren. A proper stimulus had indeed been enough to rouse the Summoner fragment from its madness, even if the results had been questionable. Gogonji had been musing for a while on while one to seek next - and it seemed Nymeia herself had saw it fit to provide him the answer in the form of a very interesting book discovered in the depths of the Great Gubal Library.

 

A book that, quite literally, followed the Dunesfolk back out from that vast archive of knowledge, and set him on this next path. He had delved into the history of Nym, and even still sought more information on the mathemagical skills of the ancient Allagan. So, it only followed that the next fragment on the Lalafell's list be of another great aetheric power - one of the two that had ended with the world under malms of water. Through the journal that was supposedly penned by Shattoto herself - if the name on its weathered cover was to be believed - Gogonji would seek the might of the Mcachi.

 

And, while he was not wholly certain he could easily grasp such an alternate aetheric casting method from his own without the aid of his long-destroyed Rousers, Gogonji's conversation with the Hellsguard had brought to mind other ideas. Ideas that would benefit greatly from both the ancient Journal and what memories he could reclaim from the Mcachian fragment. It would be quite the experiment, one either on par or even far beyond the one he had set War Siren upon. The potential for new knowledge in the coming moons was staggering.

 

Gogonji could feel his mouth watering, and not just at the prospect of Ezra's stew.

[Gegenji]

Another long overdue update on the egotistical grump. He's had a couple meetings and a multi-day Skype adventure up in the Sea of Clouds, so there's plenty to pull from. And yet, I still feel this was a bit short. Hm.

 

Well, this is building up to two different climaxes in either case. One, most obviously, is the (hopefully final) confrontation with Rosewater and ending that lingering thorn in his side. The other, more surprisingly, is an emotional confrontation with his own younger brother. For, while Gogonji has declared How Things Will Be... it seems his younger brother isn't quite so willing to obey his elder as he once was. Both should be interesting encounters indeed.

 

And again, I find myself floundering for fitting music considering the change in tones through this little update piece. Ultimately, I decided to go for something nerdy and found me some Touhous to listen to while writing it. Might not wholly fit, unfortunately, but it's something. And I'm always open for song suggestions - if folks feel like there's a tune that might better fit one of the posted segments (or Gogon in general).

 

4KSXb3_ndkU

 

 

 

Gogonji's thoughts were relatively light as he poured over the tomes he had procured from the depths of the Great Gubal Library. It had required some more of his aetheric reserves, but he had made a couple uses of that aetheryte the self-important frog had provided since his initial delve to search for other texts relating to his current topic of research. Treatises on the nature of aether itself and its distribution, both within and without of the corporeal form, were scattered amongst codices that seemed to have more formulas than words. Along with them were swaths of parchment, all laden with further calculations and symbols, with several more cast aside as little more than crumbled balls to be later collected and burned.

 

Not just to be rid of them, but to also obliterate any unnecessary evidence of the task he was working on. That and perhaps add a little bit of extra warmth to the chilly little shack squirreled away in the perpetual winter of Coerthas. The repairs on the place had long since completed, but the place still held a nasty chill that seemed quite unwilling to be chased away. The memories of what had occurred here with equally stubborn.

 

He had developed the Awakener here, a device meant to aid in the transfer of information in order to ultimately turn a profit off it in a bid to prove his business plan to his stubborn father. Its hulking frame had necessitated the development of a smaller, more risky mobile version in the Rouser that in and of itself was another massive drain on his financial resources. Awakener and Rouser, technology both that he had willingly weaponized in his bloody vengeance against the Garleans after the Razing of Doma. Technology that had turned one of his few allies traitor and had ultimately saddled him with literal ghosts of the past he had yet to fully shake off. And yet here he was again, continuing on in spite of that - in defiance of it - and, from all accounts, making some very solid progress in recovering from it all.

 

He had just returned from his meeting with Annunu up at the restaurant that overlooked the Toll, where he partook of much more than just the local food and drink. They had discussed the situation as it had progressed with that insufferable thorn Rosewater, and their plans to both cast him into tainted obscurity and ultimately remove him from the picture altogether. The lady Lalafell had seemed quite eager for the latter part, seemingly looking forward to the sun where she brought the underhanded Sultansworn to Gogonji for the punishment of his choosing. An ultimately final punishment, to be sure.

 

And for good reason, of course. The fool had thought himself better than he was, seeking to match wits against the elder Gegenji brother - and going so far as to try to manipulate An and use her as a tool for his own means. Perhaps that was the bit that irked the Doman the most, though he wasn't entirely sure why; the Hyur's unabashed attempts to use his An as a means of acquiescence and now as a mere toy to be used at his whim for whatever wish crossed his inferior mind. In their meeting at the Cork suns prior, the Plainsfolk girl had spoken of the paltry odds and ends he had tasked her to do. He had even had taken her to bed, which had caused an irrational flare of anger in the back of the Dunesfolk's mind.

 

He hadn't had his way with her like Gogonji had assumed in silent horror, as she clarified in their most recent meeting, but the idea of him tainting her in that way had still sat like a burning coal in his stomach since their last meeting. To the point that his mouth had bypassed his reason momentarily and he had offered to take her to bed instead, to which she had been surprisingly accommodating towards. However, due to the nature of their plans, it had to be something that could only take place after this next - and possibly penultimate - phase in their plans. And Gogonji found himself rather looking forward to what came after that, perhaps moreso than the removal of Rosewater himself.

 

And not just the possible coupling - though he found himself rather intrigued by the idea, as primal and base as such an act was - but more what would the conclusion of this plan ultimately meant. With Rosewater finally removed like the blighted boil he was, both An and himself would be wholly and utterly absolved of the weights of their deeds with Khamja. Free to live their lives as they so chose, unshackled by the fallout of the Castrum assaults - save for the fragments that still needed dealing with within the jade-haired Lalafell's mind. And, if the stirrings he was noticing as he delved into the aetheric studies was any indication, Gogonji might be taking another step soon in dealing with that particular obstacle as well.

 

That was not to say things had not been without complication, he noted as he looked over the formula he had just written before screwing his face into a look of absolute displeasure and crumpling it up into a ball in his frustration. Rosewater had deemed it prudent to gift Annunu with a necklace that was almost some manner of explosive collar to keep her obedient and pliable. As much as he hated the fools at the Ironworks for seeking to price gouge him and take his discoveries for their own, he also had been forced to admit that their general knowledge of magiteknology exceeded his own. And so, along with picking up a few books to seek to counter that imbalance, he had urged the lady Plainsfolk to have them take a look at the piece of jewelry and either disarm it or devise some manner of signal jammer to keep that insufferable Paladin from activating it. They had failed on the former, and so it was in their best interests to seek to deliver on the latter.

 

Gogonji's troubles weren't solely dominated by Rosewater and his indiscretions, however. There had been another: a tool he had sought to use to protect his younger brother in his absences - which would be much lengthier considering his rejection by Coral, another minor sore spot to his ego - had decided to turn on him and break the promise she had made. The one called Virara had been meant to aid and protect Chachanji on his little pseudo-heroic adventures, keep him safe and hale, and perhaps ultimately serve him as An had before their relationship had developed. However, she had decided that her little "training sessions" to fight her "Master" were far more important than the task Gogonji had magnanimously bequeathed to her, and thus had fled her duties - but not without leaving the younger Gegenji hobbled and recuperating from the falls he had taken because of her. The Coral staff had managed to tend to him well enough, but the older brother has still applied a bit of healing of his own to ensure the boy recovered cleanly as he had the tale recounted to him.

 

However, the other side of the equation had to be dealt with, Gogonji reminisced as he dipped his quill in the inkwell to begin his formulae anew. Despite the blustering and threats by not only one of the Coral's grunts but its leader itself, he had gone to see Virara taken to task for her indiscretions up in the Sea of Clouds where she had fled. It was not as simple a venture as he would have liked, since he was hindered not only by a need to resolve the conflict peaceably - more in deference to his younger brother than the murderous intent of the Free Company's head - but also by the Miqo'te Jana who had attached herself to his mission during the course of the arguments. And he was laden still-further when he found himself on the same airship as the hunter-songbird and her entourage that one of Coral's own had sent after Virara - despite Renzhen's constant outpourings about allowing her members their freedom to go where they will. Hypocrisy aside, Gogonji could only hope that the Au Ra's aggressive protection of her own extended to his younger brother as well - to do what the purple-haired Lalafell apparently would not.

 

And he found the aforementioned Lalafell, after bypassing one self-appointed guardian and bandying words with the two feathered Beast Tribesmen that served as another. Virara proved to not only be unapologetic for her transgressions, but adamantly against returning to the position as stated - twisting her own promise to him to her own ends. She had obviously thought her Master more important than the task Gogonji had given her, making her all but useless as a defensive tool since she would so willingly let the younger Gegenji come to harm again and again if it furthered her own base objectives. And so he had willingly annulled the promise between them and set forth another - since she was such a troubling entity, she would be forever barred from any interaction at all with his brother. He would find another to keep watch over his brother, from both the troubles the young Dunesfolk would get himself into - and from Virara herself.

 

Gogonji was still working on the latter, seeking a proper tool to fill the void left by that obviously defective one. This was his own brother, his own blood, after all and he would have nothing but the best. In the meantime, he had set Erwin to keep at least somewhat of an eye on the boy. It got the one-armed drunkard out his hair, and put him towards doing something actually useful. It might've evolved into a more permanent arrangement if he didn't half-expect the Highlander to drink himself into a stupor and let little Chachanji wander into danger while he was sleeping it off.

 

He refused to have anything close to a repeat of past events, to entrust Chachanji to someone who would so willingly see him harmed for their own agenda. The protector he would set in Virara's place would need to be strong like her, yes, but also several degrees more obedient. One that would do as they were told and properly take care of his younger brother, at the cost of their life if necessary, rather than leaving him to further their own unnecessary goals. Or, at the very least, not act in blatant contradiction of their role by injuring the boy in the process of attending to whatever inconsequential issue they needed handling.

 

The older Gegenji shook his head and pulled another piece of parchment from the sheaf of them set on the corner of his desk, clearing his head so that he would be ready to again seek to crack this code he had set before himself. He stalwartly reminded himself that things were continuing apace, and that was all that mattered. The Virara issue had been all but handled for the most part and the Rosewater situation would see itself wrapped up in a matter of moons at most. All that remained was this task he had started upon and dealing with the remainder of the fragments - one hopefully aiding in the other - and he could finally return to some degree of normalcy again. With An at his side.

 

That latter part had popped into his mind unintentionally, but Gogonji still found himself wondering which thought he enjoyed more.